WASHINGTON IRVING
THE ALHAMBRA and
WOLFERTS ROOST
and MISCELLANEOUS
By WASHINGTON IRVING
f
R. F. FENNO & COMPANY: PUB
LISHERS : 9 & ii E. SIXTEENTH
STREET : NEW YORK CITY : 1900
IOSG
DEDICATION.
TO DAVID WILKIE, ESQ., R.A.
MY DEAR Sm : You may remember that, in the course ot the
rambles we once took together about some of the old cities of
Spain, particularly Toledo and Seville, we frequently remarked
the mixture of the Saracenic with the Gothic, remaining from
the time of the Moors, and were more than once struck with
incidents and scenes in the streets, that brought to mind pas
sages in the "Arabian Nights." You then urged me to write
something illustrative of these peculiarities ; ' ' something in the
Haroun Alraschid style," that should have a dash of that Ara
bian spice which pervades every thing in Spain. I call this to
mind to show you that you are, in some degree, responsible for
the present work; in which I have given a few "Arabesque"
sketches and tales, taken from the life, or founded on Hocal tra
ditions, and mostly struck off during a residence in one of the
most legendary and Morisco-Spanish places of the Peninsula.
I inscribe this work to you, as a memorial of the pleasant
scenes we have witnessed together, in that land of adventure,
and as a testimony of an esteem for your worth, which can
only be exceeded by admiration of your talents.
Your Mend and fellow traveller,
THE AUTHOR,
434920
THE ALHAMBRA.
CCOTTEKTS,
MM
1)EDICATIOW I
THE JOURNEY , 7
GOVERNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA 80
INTERIOR OP THE ALHAMBRA - SX
THE Towim ou- CoteARES SB
REFLECTIONS ON THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IN SPAIN 82
THE HOUSEHOLD 35
THE TRUANT 88
THE AUTHOR'S CHAMBER 41
THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT , 45
INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBRA a , 46
THE BALCONY. 49
THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON 54
A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS 57
THE COURT OF LIONS . , , 68
BOABDIL EL CHICO 67
MOMENTOS OF BOABDIL 70
THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS 75
HE HOUSE OF THE WEATHERCOCK 74
fiEGHND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER 75
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES 89
LOCAL TRADITIONS 108
LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY 109
VISITORS OF THE ALHAMBRA 126
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL; OR, THE PILGRIM OF LOVE 180
LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA; OR, THE PAGE AND THE GER-FALCOH. 156
THE VETERAN 168
THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY 170
GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER 178
LEGEND OF THE Two DISCREET STATUES , 189
MAHAMAD ABEN ALAHMAR, THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA , 208
JUSEF ABUL HAGIAS, THE FINISHER o THE Ar.mifBBi , 309
THE ALHAMBRA.
A SERIES OF TALES AND SKETCHES OF THE
MOORS AND SPANIARDS.
THE JOURNEY.
IN the spring of 1829, the author of this work, whom curiosity
had brought into Spain, made a rambling expedition from Se
ville to Granada, in company with a friend, a member of the
Russian embassy at Madrid. Accident had thrown us together
from distant regions of the globe, and a similarity of taste led
us to wander together among the romantic mountains of An
dalusia. Should these pages meet his eye, wherever thrown,
by the duties of his station, whether mingling in the pageantry
of courts or meditating on the truer glories of nature, may they
recall the scenes of our adventurous companionship, and with
them the remembrance of one, in whom neither time nor dis<
tance will obliterate the recoUection of his gentleness and
worth.
And here, before setting forth, let me indulge in a few previ
ous remarks on Spanish scenery and Spanish travelling.
Many are apt to picture Spain in their imaginations as a soft
southern region decked out with all the luxuriant charms of
voluptuous Italy. On the contrary, though there are excep
tions in some of the maritime provinces, yet, for the greater
part, it is a stern, melancholy country, with rugged mountains
and long, naked, sweeping plains, destitute of trees, and inva
riably silent and lonesome, partaking of the savage and solitary
character of Africa. What adds to this silence and loneliness,
is the absence of singing birds, a natural consequence of the
want of groves and hedges. The vulture and the eagle are seen
wheeling about the mountain, cliffs and soaring over the p
6 THE ALUAMBRA.
and groups of 'sfcy'imstards: stall* about the heaths, but th
myriads of smaller birds; which 'animate the whole face of
other countri6s,:ccre:ip;et>witii in bufcfew provinces of Spain, and
in them chiefly ainong ' the orchards and gardens which sur
round the habitations of man.
In the exterior provinces, the traveller occasionally traverses
great tracts cultivated with grain as far as the eye can reach,
waving at times with verdure, at other times naked and sun
burnt; but he looks round in vain for the hand that has tilled
the soil : at length he perceives some village perched on a steep
hill, or rugged crag, with mouldering battlements and ruined
watch-tower ; a strong-hold, in old times, against civil war or
Moorish inroad ; for the custom among the peasantry of congre
gating together for mutual protection, is still kept up in most
parts of Spain, in consequence of the marauding of roving free
booters.
But though a great part of Spain is deficient in the garniture
of groves and forests, and the softer charms of ornamental cul
tivation, yet its scenery has something of a high and lofty char
acter to compensate the want. It partakes something of the
attributes of its people, and I think that I better understand
the proud, hardy, frugal and abstemious Spaniard, his manly
defiance of hardships, and contempt of effeminate indulgences,
since I have seen the country he inhabits.
There is something, too, in the sternly simple features of the
Spanish landscape, that impresses on the soul a feeling of sub
limity. The immense plains of the Castiles and La Mancha,
extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from
their very nakedness and immensity, and have something of
the solemn grandeur of the ocean. In ranging over these
boundless wastes, the eye catches sight, here and there, of a
straggling herd of cattle attended by a lonely herdsman, mo
tionless as a statue, with his long slender pike tapering up like
a lance into the air ; or beholds a long train of mules slowly
moving along the waste like a train of camels in the desert, or
a single herdsman, armed with blunderbuss and stiletto, and
prowling over the plain. Thus, the country, the habits, the
very looks of the people, have something of the Arabian char
acter. The general insecurity of the country is evinced in the
universal use of weapons. The herdsman in the field, the shep
herd in the plain has his musket and his knife. The wealthy
villager rarely ventures to the market-town without his trabu-
cho, and, perhaps, a servant on foot with a blunderbuss on
THE JOURNEY. Q
his shoulder; and the most petty journey is undertaken with
the preparations of a warlike enterprise.
The dangers of the road produce, also, a mode of travelling,
resembling, on a diminutive scale, the caravans of the East.
The arrierors or carriers, congregate in troops, and set off in
large and well-armed trains on appointed days, while individual
travellers swell their number and contribute to their strength.
In this primitive way is the commerce of the country carried
on. The muleteer is the general medium of traffic, and the
legitimate wanderer of the land, traversing the Peninsula from
the Pyrenees and the Asturias, to the Alpuxarras, the Serrania
de Ronda, and even to the gates of Gibraltar. He lives frugally
and hardily; his alforjas (or saddle-bags), of coarse cloth, hold
his scanty stock of provisions ; a leathern bottle hanging at his
saddle-bow, contains wine or water for a supply across barren
mountains and thirsty plains ; a mule cloth spread upon the
ground is his bed at night, and his pack-saddle is his pillow.
His low but clear-limbed and sinewy form betokens strength ;
his complexion is dark and sun-burnt; his eye resolute, but
quiet in its expression, except when kindled by sudden emo
tion; his demeanour is frank, manly, and courteous, and he
never passes you without a grave salutation " Dios guarda a
listed I" " Yay usted con Dios caballero !" " God guard you !"
"God be with you ! cavalier !"
As these men have often their whole fortune at stake upon
the burden of their mules, they have their weapons at hand,
slung to their saddles, and ready to be snatched down for des
perate defence. But their united numbers render them secure
against petty bands of marauders, and the solitary bandalero,
armed to the teeth, and mounted on his Andalusian steed,
hovers about them, like a pirate about a merchant convoy,
without daring to make an assault.
The Spanish muleteer has an inexhaustible stock of songs
and ballads, with which to beguile his incessant way-faring.
The airs are rude and simple, consisting of but few inflexions.
These he chants forth with a loud voice, and long drawling
cadence, seated sideways on his mule, who seems to listen with
infinite gravity, and to keep time with his paces, to the tune.
The couplets thus chanted are often old traditional romances
about the Moors ; or some legend of a saint ; or some love ditty ;
or, what is still more frequent, some ballad about a bold contra-
bandista, or hardy bandalero ; for the smuggler and the robber
are poetical heroes among the common people of Spain. Often
10 THE ALHAMBRA.
the song of the muleteer is composed at the instant, and relates
to some local scene, or some incident of the journey. This tal
ent of singing and improvising is frequent in Spain, and is said
to have been inherited from the Moors. There is something
wildly pleasing in listening to these ditties among the rude and
lonely scenes they illustrate, accompanied as they are, by the
occasional jingle of the mule-bell.
It has a most picturesque effect, also, to meet a train of mule
teers in some mountain pass. First you hear the bells of the
leading mules, breaking with their simple melody the stillness
of the airy height ; or, perhaps, the voice of the muleteer ad
monishing some tardy or wandering animal, or chanting, at
the full stretch of his lungs, some traditionary ballad. At
length you see the mules slowly winding along the cragged
defile, sometimes descending precipitous cliffs, so as to present
themselves in full relief against the sky, sometimes toiling up
the deep arid chasms below you. As they approach, you descry
their gay decorations of worsted tufts, tassels, and saddle
cloths ; while, as they pass by, the ever ready trabucho, slung
behind their packs and saddles, gives a hint of the insecurity
of the road.
The ancient kingdom of Granada, into which we are about
to penetrate, is one of the most mountainous regions of Spain.
Vast sierras or chains of mountains, destitute of shrub or tree,
and mottled with variegated marbles and granites, elevate their
sun-burnt summits against a deep blue sky, yet in their rugged
bosoms lie engulfed the most verdant and fertile valley, where
the desert and the garden strive for mastery, and the very rock,
as it were, compelled to yield the fig, the orange, and the cit-
ron, and to blossom with the myrtle and the rose.
In the wild passes of these mountains, the sight of walled
towns and villages built like eagles' nests among the cliffs, and
surrounded by Moorish battlements, or of ruined watch-towers
perched on lofty peaks, carry the mind back to the chivalrous
days of Christian and Moslem warfare, and to the romantic
struggle for the conquest of Granada. In traversing their lofty
Sierras, the traveller is often obliged to alight and lead his horse
up and down the steep and jagged ascents and descents, resem
bling the broken steps of a staircase. Sometimes the road
winds along dizzy precipices, without parapet to guard him
from the gulfs below, and then will plunge down steep and
dark and dangerous deck' vities. Sometimes it struggles through
rugged barrancos, or ravines, worn by water torrents; the ob-
'THE JOURNEY. H
scure paths of the Contrabandista, while ever and anon, thg
ominous cross, the memento of robbery and murder, erected
on a mound of stones at some lonely part of the road, admon
ishes the traveller that he is among the haunts of banditti;
perhaps, at that very moment, under the eye of some lurking
bandalero. Sometimes, in winding through the narrow valleys,
he is startled by a horse bellowing, and beholds above him, on
some green fold of the mountain side, a herd of fierce Andalu-
sian bulls, destined for the combat of the arena. There is
something awful in the contemplation of these terrific animals,
clothed with tremendous strength, and ranging their native
pastures, in untamed wildness : strangers almost to the face of
man. They know no one but the solitary herdsman who attends
upon them, and even he at times dares not venture to approach
them. The low bellowings of these bulls, and their menacing
aspect as they look down from their rocky height, give addi
tional wildness to the savage scenery around.
I have been betrayed unconsciously into a longer disquisition
than I had intended on the several features of Spanish travel
ling ; but there is a romance about all the recollections of the
Peninsula that is dear to the imagination.
It was on the first of May that my companion and myself
set forth from Seville, on our route to Granada. We had made
all due preparations for the nature of our journey, which lay
through mountainous regions where the roads are little better
than mere mule paths, and too frequently beset by robbers.
The most valuable part of our luggage had been forwarded by
the arrieros ; we retained merely clothing and necessaries for
the journey, and money for the expenses of the road, with a
sufficient surplus of the latter to satisfy the expectations of
robbers, should we be assailed, and to save ourselves from the
rough treatment that awaits the too wary and emptyhanded
traveller. A couple of stout hired steeds were provided for
ourselves, and a third for our scanty luggage, and for the
conveyance of a sturdy Biscayan lad of about twenty years of
age, who was to guide us through the perplexed mazes of the
mountain roads, to take care of our horses, to act occasionally
as our valet, and at all times as our guard ; for he had a for
midable trabucho, or carbine, to defend us from rateros, or
solitary footpads, about which weapon he made much vain
glorious boast, though, to the discredit of his generalship, I
must say that it generally hung unloaded behind his saddle.
He was, however, a faithful, cheery, kind-hearted creature, full
12 THE ALIIAMBRA.
at saws and proverbs as that miracle of squires, the renowned
Sancho himself, whose name we bestowed upon him ; and, like
a true Spaniard, though treated by us with companionable
familiarity, he never for a moment in his utmost hilarity over
stepped the bounds of respectful decorum.
Thus equipped and attended, we set out on our journey witfc
a genuine disposition to be pleased: with such a disposition,
what a country is Spain for a traveller, where the most miser-
able inn is as full of adventure as an enchanted castle, and
every meal is in itself, an achievement ! Let others repine at
the lack of turnpike roads and sumptuous hotels, and all the
elaborate comforts of a country cultivated into tameness and
common-place, but give me the rude mountain scramble, the
roving haphazard way-faring, the frank, hospitable, though
half wild manners, that give such a true game flavour to
romantic Spain!
Our first evening's entertainment had a relish of the kind.
We arrived after sunset at a little town among the hills, after
a fatiguing journey over a wide houseless plain, where we had
been repeatedly drenched with showers. In the inn were
quartered a party of Miguelistas, who were patrolling the
country in pursuit of robbers. The appearance of foreigners
like ourselves was unusual in this remote town. Mine host with
two or three old gossipping comrades in brown cloaks studied
our passports in the corner of the posada, while an Alguazil
took notes by the dun light of a lamp. The passports were in
foreign languages and perplexed them, but our Squire Sancho
assisted them in their studies, and magnified our important
with the grandiloquence of a Spaniard. In the mean time the
magnificent distribution of a few cigars had won the hearts of
all around us. In a little while the whole community seemed
put in agitation to make us welcome. The Corregidor himself
waited upon us, and a great rush-bottomed armed chair was
ostentatiously bolstered into our room by our landlady, for
the accommodation of that important personage. The com
mander of the patrol took supper with us : a surly, talking,
laughing, swaggering Andaluz, who had made a campaign in
South America, and recounted his exploits in love and war
with much pomp of praise and vehemence of gesticulation, and
mysterious rolling of the eye. He told us he had a list of all
the robbers in the country, and meant to ferret out every
mother's son of them ; he offered us at the same time some of
his soldiers as an escort. "One is enough to prc' 3t you.
THE JOURNEY. 13
Signers ; the robbers know me, and know my men ; the sight
of one is enough to spread terror through a whole sierra."
We thanked him for his offer, but assured him, in his own
strain, that with the protection of our redoubtable Squire
Sancho, we were not afraid of all the ladrones of Andalusia.
While we were supping with our Andalusian friend, we
heard the notes of a guitar and the click of castanets, and
presently, a chorus of voices, singing a popular air. In fact,
mine host had gathered together the amateur singers and
musicians and the rustic belles of the neighbourhood, and on
going forth, the court-yard of the inn presented a scene of
true Spanish festivity. We took our seats with mine host and
hostess and the commander of the patrol, under the archway
of the court. The guitar passed from hand to hand, but a
jovial shoemaker was the Orpheus of the place. He was a
pleasant looking fellow with huge black whiskers and a
roguish eye. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows; he
touched the guitar with masterly skill, and sang little amorous
ditties with an expressive leer at the women, with whom he
was evidently a favourite. He afterwards danced a fandango
with a buxom Andalusian damsel, to the great delight of the
spectators. But none of the females present could compare
with mine host's pretty daughter Josefa, who had slipped
away and made her toilette for the occasion, and had adorned
her head with roses ; and also distinguished herself in a bolero
with a handsome young dragoon. We had ordered our host
to let wine and refreshments circulate freely among the
company, yet, though there was a motley assemblage of
soldiers, muleteers and villagers, no one exceeded the bounds
of sober enjoyment. The scene was a study for a painter : the
picturesque group of dancers; the troopers in their half mili-
pary dresses, the peasantry wrapped in their brown cloaks,
nor must I omit to mention the old meagre Alguazil in a short
black cloak, who took no notice of any thing going on, but
sat in a corner diligently writing by the dim light of a huge
copper lamp that might have figured in the days of Don
Quixote.
I am not writing a regular narrative, and do not pretend to
give the varied events of several days' rambling over bill and
dale, and moor and mountain. We travelled in true contra-
Dandista style, taking every thing, rough and smooth, as we
found it. and mingling wifh all classes and conditions in a
<abon"i coir ^ ^ hi- It is the true way to trave)
14 TUB ALHAMBRA.
In Spam. Knowing the scanty larders of the inns, and the
naked tracts of country the traveller has often to traverse, we
had taken care, on starting, to have the alforjas, or saddle
bags, of our Squire well stocked with cold provisions, and his
beta, or leathern bottle, which was of portly dimensions, filled
to the neck with choice Valdepenas wine. As this was a
munition for our campaign more important than even his
trabucho, we exhorted him to have an eye to it, and I will do
him the justice to say that his namesake, the trencher-loving
Sancho himself, could not excel him as a provident purveyor.
Though the alforjas and beta were repeatedly and vigorously
assailed throughout the journey, they appeared to have a
miraculous property of being never empty; for our vigilant
Squire took care to sack every thing that remained from our
evening repasts at the inns, to supply our next day's luncheon.
What luxurious noontide repasts have we made on the
green sward by the side of a brook or fountain under a shady
tree, and then what delicious siestas on our cloaks spread out
on the herbage!
"We paused one day at noon, for a repast of the kind. It
was in a pleasant little green meadow, surrounded by hills
covered with oh' ve trees. Our cloaks were spread on the grass
under an elm tree, by the side of a babbling rivulet : our horses
were tethered where they might crop the herbage, and Sancho
produced his alforjas with an air of triumph. They contained
the contributions of four days' journeying, hut had been sig
nally enriched by the foraging of the previous evening, in a
plenteous inn at Antequera. Our Squire drew forth the
heterogeneous contents one by one, and they seemed to have
no end. First came forth a shoulder of roasted kid, very little
the worse for wear, then an entire partridge, then a great
morsel of salted codfish wrapped in paper, then the residue of
a ham, then the hah* of a pullet, together with several rolls of
bread and a rabble rout of oranges, figs, raisins, and walnuts.
His beta also had been recruited with some excellent wine of
Malaga. At every fresh apparition from his larder, he could
enjoy our ludicrous surprise, throwing himself back on the
grass and shouting with laughter.
Nothing pleased this simple-hearted varlet more than to be
compared, for his devotion to the trencher, to the renowned
squire of Don Quixote. He was well versed in the history of
the Don, and, like most of the common people of Spain, he
firmly believed it to be a true history.
TEE JOURNEY. ~ 15
"All that, however, happened a long time ago, Signer," said
fte to me, one day, with an inquiring look.
' ' A very long time, " was the reply.
" I dare say, more than a thousand years?" still looking
dubiously.
" I dare say? not less."
The squire was satisfied.
As we were making our repast above described, and divert
ing ourselves with the simple drollery of our squire, a solitary
beggar approached us, who had almost the look of a pilgrim.
He was evidently very old, with a gray beard, and supported
himself on a staff, yet age had not borne him down ; he was
tall and erect, and had the wreck of a fine form. He wore
a round Andalusian hat, a sheepskin jacket, and leathern
breeches, gaiters, and sandals. His dress, though old and
patched, was decent, his demeanour manly, and he addressed
us with that grave courtesy that is to be remarked in the low
est Spaniard. We were in a favourable mood for such a
visitor, and in a freak of capricious charity gave him some
silver, a loaf of fine wheaten bread, and a goblet of our choice
wine of Malaga. He received them thankfully, but without
any grovelling tribute of gratitude. Tasting the wine, he held
it up to the light, with a slight beam of surprise in his eye?
then quaffing it off at a draught: " It is many years," said he,
"since I have tasted such wine. It is a cordial to an old man's
heart." Then looking at the beautiful wheaten loaf: " Bendita
Bea tal pan !" (blessed be such bread !) So saying, he put it in
his wallet. We urged him to eat it on the spot. "No,
Bignors," replied he, "the wine I had to drink, or leave; but
the bread I must take home to share with my family. "
Our man Sancho sought our eye, and reading permission
there, gave the old man some of the ample fragments of our
repast; on condition, however, that he should sit down and
make a meal. He accordingly took his seat at some little dis
tance from us, and began to eat, slowly, and with a sobriety
and decorum that would have become a hidalgo. There was
altogether a measured manner and a quiet self-possession about
the old man, that made me think he had seen better days ; his
language, too, though simple, had occasionally something pic
turesque and almost poetical in the phraseology. I set him
flown for some broken-down cavalier. I was mistaken, it was
nothing but the innate courtesy of a Spaniard, and the poetical
iurn of thought and language often to be found in the lowest
16 THE ALUAMBUA.
classes of this clear- witted people. For fifty years, he told us,
he had been a shepherd, but now he was out of employ, and
destitute. "When I was a young man," said ho, "nothing
could harm or trouble me. I was always well, always gay ;
but now I am seventy-nine years of age, and a beggar, and
my heart begins to fail me."
Still he was not a regular mendicant, it was not until
Decently that want had driven him to this degradation, and he
gave a touching picture of the struggle between hunger and
pride, when abject destitution first came upon him. He was
returning from Malaga, without money; he had not tasted
food for some time, and was crossing one of the great plains of
Spain, where there were but few habitations. When almost
dead with hunger, he applied at the door of a venta, or country
inn. "Perdona usted per Dios hermano!" (excuse us, brother,
for God's sake !) was the reply ; the usual mode in Spain of
refusing a beggar. "I turned away," said he, "with shame
greater than my hunger, for my heart was yet too proud. I
came to a river with high banks and deep rapid current, and
felt tempted to throw myself in; what should such an old
worthless wretched man as I live for! But when I was on
the brink of the current, I thought on the blessed Virgin, and
turned away. I travelled on until I saw a country-seat, at a
little distance from the road, and entered the outer gate of the
court-yard. The door was shut, but there were two young
signoras at a window. I approached, and begged : ' Perdona
usted per Dios hermano ! ' (excuse us, brother, for God's sake !)
and the window closed. I crept out of the court-yard; but
hunger overcame me, and my heart gave way. I thought my
hour was at hand. So I laid myself down at the gate, com
mended myself to the holy Virgin, and covered my head to die.
In a little while afterwards, the master of the house came
home. Seeing me lying at his gate, he uncovered my head,
had pity on my gray hairs, took me into his house, and gave
me food. So, Signers, you see that we should always put con-
fidence in the protection of the Virgin."
The old man was on his way to his native place Archidona,
which was close by the summit of a steep and rugged mountain.
He pointed to the ruins of its old Moorish castle. That castle,
he said, was inhabited by a Moorish king at the time of the
wars of Granada. Queen Isabella invaded it with a great
army, but the king looked down from his castle among the
clouds, and laughed her to scorn. Upon this, the Virgin
THE JOURNEY. 17
appeared to the queen, and guided her and her army up a mys
terious path of the mountain, which had never before been
known. When the Moor saw her coming, he was astonished,
and springing with his horse from a precipice, was dashed to
pieces. The marks of his horse's hoofs, said the old man, are
to be seen on the margin of the rock to this day. And see.
Signors, yonder is the road by which the queen and her armj
mounted, you see it like a riband up the mountain side ; but
the miracle is, that, though it can be seen at a distance, when
you come near, it disappears. The ideal road to which he
pointed, was evidently a sandy ravine of the mountain, which
looked narrow and defined at a distance, but became broad and
indistinct on an approach. As the old man's heart warmed
with wine and wassail, he went on to tell us a story of the
buried treasure left under the earth by the Moorish king. His
own house was next to the foundations of the castle. The
curate and notary dreamt three times of the treasure, and
went to work at the place pointed out in their dreams. His
own son-in-law heard the sound of their pick-axes and spades
at night. What they found nobody knows ; they became sud
denly rich, but kept their own secret. Thus the old man frad
once been next door to fortune, but was doomed never to get
under the same roof.
I have remarked that the stories of treasure buried by the
Moors, which prevail throughout Spain, are most current
among the poorest people. It is thus kind nature consoles
with shadows for the lack of substantials. The thirsty man
dreams of fountains and roaring streams, the hungry man of
ideal banquets, and the poor man of heaps of hidden gold;
nothing certainly is more magnificent than the imagination of
a beggar.
The last travelling sketch which I shall give is a curious
scene at the little city of Loxa. This was a famous belligerent
frontier post, in the time of the Moors, and repulsed Ferdinand
from its walls. It was the strong-hold of old Ah' Atar, the
father-in-law of Boabdil, when that fiery veteran sallied forth
with his son-in-law, on that disastrous inroad, that ended in
the death of the chieftain, and the capture of the monarch.
Loxa is wildly situated in a broken mountain pass, on the
banks of the Xenil, among rocks and groves, and meadows
and gardens. The people seem still to retain the bold fiery
spirit of the olden time. Our inn was suited to the place. It
was kept by a young, handsome, Andalusian widow,
18 THE ALHAMBRA.
trim busquina of black silk fringed with bugles, set off th
play of a graceful form, and round pliant limbs. Her step wai
firm and elastic, her dark eye was full of fire, and the coquetr j
of her air and varied ornaments of her person showed that
she was accustomed to be admired.
She was well matched by a brother, nearly about her own
age; they were perfect models of the Andalusian majo and
maja. He was tall, vigorous, and well formed, with a clear,
olive complexion, a dark beaming eye, and curling, chestnut
whiskers, that met under his chin. He was gallantly dressed
in a short green velvet jacket, fitted to his shape, profusely
decorated with silver buttons, with a white handkerchief in
each pocket. He had breeches of the same, with rows of but
tons from the hips to the knees ; a pink silk handkerchief round
his neck, gathered through a ring, on the bosom of a neatly
plaited shirt; a sash round the waist to match; bottinas or
spatterdashes of the finest russet leather, elegantly worked and
open at the calves to show his stockings, and russet shoes set
ting off a well-shaped foot.
As he was standing at the door, a horseman rode up and
entered into low and earnest conversation with him. He was
dressed in similar style, and almost with equal finery. A man
about thirty, square built, with strong Roman features, hand
some, though slightly pitted with the small-pox, with a free,
bold and somewhat daring air. His powerful black horse wag
decorated with tassels and fanciful trappings, and a couple of
broad-mouthed blunderbusses hung behind the saddle. He had
the air of those contrabandistas that I have seen in the moun
tains of Honda, and, evidently, had a good understanding with
the brother of mine hostess ; nay, if I mistake not, he was a
favourite admirer of the widow. In fact, the whole inn and its
inmates had something of a contrabandista aspect, and the
blunderbuss stood in a corner beside the guitar. The horseman
I have mentioned, passed his evening in the posada, and sang
several bold mountain romances with great spirit.
As we were at supper, two poor Asturians put in in distress,
begging food and a night's lodging. They had been waylaid by
robbers as they came from a fair among the mountains, robbed
of a horse, which carried all their stock in trade, stripped of
their money and most of their apparel, beaten for having
offered resistance, and left almost naked in the road. My com
panion, with a prompt generosity, natural to him, ordered them
TEE JOURNEY. 19
i supper and a bed, and gave them a supply of money to help
them forward towards their home.
As the evening advanced, the dramatis personae thickened.
A large man, about sixty years of age, of powerful frame, came
strolling in, to gossip with mine hostess. He was dressed in
the ordinary Andalusian costume, but had a huge sabre tucked
under his arm, wore large moustaches and had something of a
lofty swaggering air. Every one seemed to regard him with
great deference.
Our man, Sancho, whispered to us that he was Don Ventura
Rodriguez, the hero and champion of Loxa, famous for his
prowess and the strength of his arm. In the time of the French
invasion, he surprised six troopers who were asleep. He first
secured their horses, then attacked them with his sabre ; killed
some, and took the rest prisoners. For this exploit, the king
allows him a peceta, (the fifth of a duro, or dollar,) per day,
and has dignified him with the title of Don.
I was amused to notice his swelling language and demeanour.
He was evidently a thorough Andalusian, boastful as he was
brave. His sabre was always in his hand, or under his arm.
He carries it always about with him as a child does a doll, calls
it his Santa Teresa, and says, that when he draws it, " tembla
la tierra !" (the earth trembles !)
I sat until a late hour listening to the varied themes of this
motley group, who mingled together 'with the unreserve of a
Spanish posada. We had contrabandista songs, stories of rob
bers, guerilla exploits, and Moorish legends. The last one from
our handsome landlady, who gave a poetical account of the
infiernos, or infernal regions of Loxa dark caverns, in which
subterraneous streams and waterfalls make a mysterious sound.
The common people say they are money coiners, shut up there
from the !time of the Moors, and that the Moorish kings kept
their treasures in these caverns.
Were it the purport of this work, I could fill its pages with
the incidents and scenes of our rambling expedition, but other
themes invite me. Journeying in this manner, we at length
emerged from the mountains, and entered upon the beautiful
Vega of Granada. Here we took our last mid-day's repast
tinder a grove of olive trees, on the borders of a rivulet, with
the old Moorish capital in the distance, dominated by the ruddy
towers of the Alhambra, while far above it the snowy summits
l>f the Sierra Nevada shone like silver. The day was without
20 THE ALHAMBRA.
a cloud, and the heat of the sun tempered by cool breezes from
the mountains; after our repast, wo spread our cloaks and im>k
our last siesta, lulled by the humming of bees among the 1 low
ers, and the notes of the ring doves from the neighbouring
olive trees. When the sultry hours were past, we resumed
our journey, and after passing between hedges of aloes and
Indian figs, and through a wilderness of gardens, arrived about
sunset at the gates of Granada.
GOVEKNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA.
To the traveller imbued with a feeling for the historical and
poetical, the Alhambra of Granada is as much an object of
veneration as is the Caaba, or sacred house of Mecca, to all true
Moslem pilgrims. How many legends and traditions, true and
fabulous, how many songs and romances, Spanish and Arabian,
of love and war and chivalry, are associated with this romantic
pile ! The reader may judge, therefore, of our delight, when,
shortly after our arrival in Granada, the governor of Alhambra
gave us permission to occupy his vacant apartments in the
Moorish palace. My companion was soon summoned away by
the duties of his station, but I remained for several months
spell-bound in the old enchanted pile. The following papers
are the result of my reveries and researches, during that deli
cious thraldom. If they have the power of imparting any of
the witching charms of the place to the imagination of the
reader, he will not repine at lingering with me for a season in
the legendary halls of the Alhambra.
THE Alhambra is an ancient fortress or castellated palace of
the Moorish kings of Granada, where they held dominion over
this their boasted terrestrial paradise, and made their last
stand for empire in Spain. The palace occupies bu+ a portion
of the fortress, the walls of which, studded with towers, stretch
irregularly round the whole crest of a lofty hill that overlooks
the city, and forms a spire of the Sierra Nevada or Snowy
Mountain.
In the time of the Moors, the fortress was capable of contain
ing an army of forty thousand men within its preincts, and
served occasionally as a strong-hold of the sovere>x*w VI*T"'US|;
GOVERNMENT OF THE ALHAMBRA. 21
their rebellious subjects. After the kingdom had passed into
the hands of the Christians, the Alhambra continued a royal
demesne, and was occasionally inhabited by the Castilian
monarchs. The Emperor Charles V. began a sumptuous
palace within its walls, but was deterred from completing it by
repeated shocks of earthquakes. The last royal residents were
Philip V. and his beautiful Queen Elizabetta, of Parma, early/
in the eighteenth century.
Great preparations were made for their reception. The
palace and gardens were placed in a state of repair ; and a new
suite of apartments erected, and decorated by artists brought
from Italy. The sojourn of the sovereigns was transient;
and, after their departure, the palace once more became deso
late. Still the place was maintained with some military state.
The governor held it immediately from the crown : its jurisdic
tion extended down into the suburbs of the city, and was
independent of the captain general of Granada. A consider
able garrison was kept up ; the governor had his apartments
in the old Moorish palace, and never descended into Granada
without some military parade. The fortress, in fact, was a
little town of itself, having several streets of houses within its
walls, together with a Franciscan convent and a parochial
church.
The desertion of the court, however, was a fatal blow to the
Alhambra. Its beautiful walls became desolate, and some of
them fell to ruin ; the gardens were destroyed, and the foun
tains ceased to play. By degrees the dwellings became filled
up with a loose and lawless population ; contrabandistas, who
availed themselves of its independent jurisdiction, to carry on
a wide and daring course of smuggling, and thieves and rogues
of all sorts, who made this their place of refuge, from whence
they might depredate upon Granada and its vicinity. The
strong arm of government at length interposed. The whole
community was thoroughly sifted; none were suffered to
remain but such as were of honest character and had legiti
mate right to a residence ; the greater part of the houses were
demolished, and a mere hamlet left, with the parochial church
and the Franciscan convent.
During the recent troubles in Spain, 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. With that enlightened taste which has
ever distinguished the French nation in their conauests, than
32 THE ALHAMBRA.
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 pn>
tected 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 scarcely tenable.
Since that time, the military importance of the post is at an
end. The garrison is a handful of invalid soldiers, whose prin
cipal duty is to guard some of the outer towers, which serve,
occasionally, as a prison of state ; and the governor, abandon-
in g the lofty hill of the Alhambra, resides in the centre oi
Granada, for the more convenient despatch of his official
duties. I cannot conclude this brief notice of the state of the
fortress, without bearing testimony to the honourable erertions
of its present commander, Don Francisco de Salis Serna, who
is tasking all the limited resources at his command, to put the
palace in a state of repair; and by his judicious precautions
has for some time arrested its too certain decay. Had his
predecessors discharged the duties of their station with equal
fidelity, the Alhambra might yet have remained in almost its
pristine beauty ; were government to second him with means
equal to his zeal, this edifice might still be preserved to adorn
the land, and to attract the curious and enlightened of every
clime, for many generations.
INTEKIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA.
THE Alhambra has been so often and so minutely described
by travellers, that a mere sketch will probably be sufficient
for the reader to refresh his recollection ; I will give, therefore,
a brief account of our visit to it the morning after our arrival
in Granada.
Leavingjour posada of La Espada, we traversed the renowned
square of the Vivarrambla, once the scene of Moorish jousta
and tournaments, now a crowded market place. From thenc
we proceeded along the Zacatin. the main street of what was
OP THE ALHAMBRA. ^
the great Baaaar, in the time of the Moors, where the small
shops and narrow alleys still retain their Oriental character.
Crossing an open place in front of the palace of the captain-
general, we ascended a confined and winding street, the name
of which reminded us of the chivalric days of Granada. It is
called the Calle, or street of the Gomeres: from a Moorish
family, famous in chronicle and song. This street led up to a
mansion gateway of Grecian architecture, built by Charles V.,
forming the entrance to the domains of the Alhambra.
At the gate were two or three ragged and superannuated
soldiers, dozing on a stone bench, the successors of the Zegris
and the Abencerrages ; while a taU, meagre varlet, whose
rusty brown cloak was, evidently, intended to conceal the
ragged state of his nether garments, was lounging in the sun
shine, and gossipping with an ancient sentinel, on duty. He
joined us as we entered the gate, and offered his services to
showed us the fortress.
I have a traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni, and did not
altogether like the garb of the applicant :
" You are well acquainted with the place, I presume?"
" Ninguno mas pues, sefior, soy hijo de la Alhambra."
(Nobody better in fact, sir, I am a son of the Alhambra.)
The common Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way of
expressing themselves "A son of the Alhambra:" the appel
lation caught me at once ; the very tattered garb of my new
acquaintance assumed a dignity in my eyes. It was emble
matic of the features of the place, and became the progeny of a
ruin.
I put some further questions to him, and found his title was
legitimate. His family had lived in the fortress from genera
tion to generation ever since the time of the conquest. His
name was Mateo Ximenes. "Then, perhaps," said I, "you
may be a descendant from the great Cardinal Ximenes."
"Dios sabe! God knows, sefior. It may be so. We are the
oldest family in the Alhambra. Viejos Cristianos, old Chris
tians, without any taint of Moor or Jew. I know we belong to
some great family or other, but I forget who. My father
knows all about it. He has the coat of arms hanging up in
his cottage, up in the fortress." There is never a Spaniard,
however poor, but has some claim to high pedigree. The first
title of this ragged worthy, however, had completely captivated
me, so I gladly accepted the services of the "son of the Al
hambra."
24 THE ALHAMBRA.
We now found ourselves in a deep narrow ravine, filled with
beautiful groves, with a steep avenue and various foot-paths
winding through it, bordered with stone seats and ornamented
with fountains. To our left, we beheld the towers of the Al-
hambra beetling above us ; to our right, on the opposite side of
the ravine, we were equally dominated by rival towers on a
rocky eminence. These, we were told, were the Torres Vert
mejos, or Vermilion towers, so called from their ruddy hue.
No one knows their origin. They are of a date much anterior
to the Alhambra. Some suppose them to have been built by
the Romans ; others, by some wandering colony of Phoenicians.
Ascending the steep and shady avenue, we arrived at tho foot
of a huge square Moorish tower, forming a kind of barbican,
through which passed the main entrance to the fortress.
Within the barbican was another group of veteran invalids,
one mounting guard at the portal, while the rest, wrapped in
their tattered cloaks, slept on the stone benches. This portal
is called the Gate of Justice, from the tribunal held within its
porch during the Moslem domination, for the immediate trial
of petty causes ; a custom common to the Oriental nations, and
occasionally alluded to in the sacred Scriptures.
The great vestibule, or porch of the gate, is formed by an
immense Arabian arch of the horseshoe form, which springs
to half the height of the tower. On the key-stone of this arch
is engraven a gigantic hand. Within the vestibule, on the
key-stone of the portal, is engraven, in like manner, a gigantic
key. Those who pretend to some knowledge of Mahometan
svmbols, affirm, that the hand is the emblem of doctrine, and
the key, of faith ; the latter, they add, was emblazoned on the
standard of the Moslems when they subdued Andalusia, in op
position to the Christian emblem of the cross. A different ex
planation, however, was given by the legitimate "son of the
Alhambra," and one more in unison with the notions of the
common people, who attach something of mystery and magic
to everything Moorish, and have all kinds of superstitions
con-nected with this old Moslem fortress.
According to Mateo, it was a tradition handed down from
the oldest inhabitants, and which he had from his father and
grandfather, that the hand and key were magical devices on
which the fate of the Alhambra depended. The Moorish long
who built it was a great magician, and, as some believed, had
sold himself to the devil, and had laid the whole fortress under
\ majev? apell. Bj this means it had remained standing for
INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 25
several hundred years, in defiance of storms and earthquakes,
while almost all the other buildings of the Moors had fallen to
ruin and disappeared. The 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. ,
Notwithstanding this ominous prediction, we ventured to
pass through the spell-bound gateway, feeling some little as
surance against magic art in the protection of the Virgin, a
statue of whom we observed above the portal.
After passing through the Barbican, we ascended a narrow
lane, winding between walls, and came on an open esplanade
within the fortress, called the Plaza de los Algibes, or Place of
the Cisterns, from great reservoirs which undermine it, cut in
the living rock by the Moors, for the supply of the fortress.
Here, also, is a well of immense depth, furnishing the purest
and coldest of water, another monument of the delicate taste
of the Moors, who were indefatigable in their exertions to ob
tain that element in its crystal purity.
In front of this esplanade is the splendid pile, commenced by
Charles V., intended, it is said, to eclipse the residence of the
Moslem kings. With all its grandeur and architectural merit,
it appeared to us like an arrogant intrusion, and passing by it
we entered a simple unostentatious portal, opening into the in
terior of the Moorish palace.
The transition was almost magical ; it seemed as if we were
at once transported into other times and another realm, and
were treading the scenes of Arabian story. We found our
selves in a great court paved with white marble and decorated
at each end with light Moorish peristyles. It is called the
court of the Alberca. In the centre was an immense basin, or
fish-pool, a hundred and thirty feet in length, by thirty in
breadth, stocked with gold-fish, and bordered by hedges of
roses. At the upper end of this court, rose the great tower of
Comares.
From the lower end, we passed through a Moorish arch-way
into the renowned Court of Lions. There is no part of the edi
fice that gives us a more complete idea of its original beauty
nd magnificence than this ; for none 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 diar
mond drops, and the twelve lions which support them, cast
26 THE ALHAMBRA.
forth their crystal streams as in the days ot Boabdil. T
court is laid out in flower beds, and surrounded by light Ara
bian arcades of open filigree work, supported by slender pil
lars of white marble. The architecture, like that of all the
other parts of the palace, is characterized by elegance, rather
than grandeur, bespeaking a delicate and graceful taste, and &
disposition to indolent enjoyment. When we look 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 earth
quakes, the violence of war, and the quiet, though no less
baneful, pilf erings of the tasteful traveller. It is almost suffi
cient to excuse the popular tradition, that the whole is pro
tected by a magic charm.
On one side of the court, a portal richly adorned opens into
a lofty hall paved with white marble, and called the Hall of
the two Sisters. A cupola or lantern admits a tempered light
from above, and a free circulation of air. The lower part of
the walls is incrusted with beautiful Moorish tiles, on some of
which are emblazoned the escutcheons of the Moorish mon-
archs : the upper part is faced with the fine stucco work in
vented at Damascus, consisting of large plates cast in moulds
and artfully joined, so as to have the appearance of having
been laboriously sculptured by the hand into light relievos and
fanciful arabesques, intermingled with texts of the Koran, and
poetical inscriptions in Arabian and Celtic characters. These
decorations of the walls and cupolas are richly gilded, and the
Interstices panelled with lapis lazuli and other brilliant and en
during colours. On each side of the wall are recesses for otto
mans and arches. Above an inner porch, is a balcony which
communicated with the women's apartment. The latticed bal
conies still remain, from whence the dark-eyed beauties of the
harem might gaze unseen upon the entertainments of the hall
below.
It is impossible to contemplate this once favourite abode of
Oriental manners, without feeling the early associations of
Arabian romance, and almost expecting to see the white arm
of some mysterious princess beckoning from the balcony, or
some dark eye sparkling through the lattice. The abode of
beauty is here, as if it had been inhabited but yesterday but
where are the Zoraydas and Linderaxas !
On the opposite side of the court of Lions, is the hall of the
Abencerrages, so called from the gallant cavaliers of that
INTERIOR OF THE ALHAMBRA. 27
illustrious line, who were here perfidiously massacred. There
are some who doubt the whole truth of this story, but our
humble attendant, Mateo, pointed out the very wicket of the
portal through which they are said to have been introduced,
one by one, and the white marble fountain in the centre of the
hall, where they were beheaded. He showed us also certain
broad ruddy stains in the pavement, traces of their blood,
which, according to popular belief, can never be effaced.
Finding we listened to him with easy faith, he added, that
there was often heard at night, in the Court of the Lions, a
low confused sound, resembling the murmurings of a multi
tude; with now and then a faint tinkling, like the distant
clank of chains. These noises are probably produced by the
bubbling currents and tinkling falls of water, conducted under
the pavement through pipes and channels to supply the foun^
tains ; but according to the legend of the son of the Alhambra,
they are made by the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages,
who nightly haunt the scene of their suffering, and invoke the
vengeance of Heaven on their destroyer.
From the Court of Lions, we retraced our steps through the
court of the Alberca, or great fish-pool, crossing which, we pro-
ceeded to the tower of Comares, so called from the name of
the Arabian architect. It is of massive strength, and lofty
height, domineering over the rest of the edifice, and overhang'
ing the steep hill-side, which descends abruptly to the banks of
the Darro. A Moorish archway admitted us into a vast and
lofty hall, which occupies the interior of the tower, and was
the grand audience chamber of the Moslem monarchs, thence
called the hall of Ambassadors. It still bears the traces of
past magnificence. The walls are richly stuccoed and dec
orated with arabesques, the vaulted ceilings of cedar wood,
almost lost in obscurity from its height, still gleam with rich
gilding and the brilliant tints of the Arabian pencil. On three
Bides of the saloon are deep windows, cut through the im
mense thickness of the walls, the balconies of which look
down upon the verdant valley of the Darro, the streets and
convents of the Albaycin, and command a prospect of the dis
tant Vega. I might go on to describe the other delightful
apartments of this side of the palace ; the Tocador or tilet of
the Queen, an open belvedere tn the summit of the tower,
where the Moorish sultanas enjoyed the pure breezes from the
mountain and the prospect of the surrounding paradise. The
secluded little patio or garden of Lindaraxa, with its alabaster
28 THE ALHAMBRA.
fountain, its thickets of roses and myrtles, of citrons and
oranges. The cool halls and grottoes of the baths, where the
glare and heat of day are tempered into a self -mysterious light
and a pervading freshness. But I appear to dwell minutely
on these scenes. My object is merely to give the reader a gen
eral introduction into an abode, where, if disposed, he may
linger and loiter with me through the remainder of this work,
gradually becoming familiar with all its beauties.
An abundant supply of water, brought from the mountains
by old Moorish aqueducts, circulates throughout the palace,
supplying its baths and fish-pools, sparkling in jets within its
halls, or murmuring in channels along the marble pavements.
When it has paid its tribute to the royal pile, and visited its
gardens and pastures, it flows down the long avenue leading
to the city, tinkling in rills, gushing in fountains, and main
taining a perpetual verdure in those groves that embower and
beautify the whole hill of the Alhambra.
Those, only, who have sojourned in the ardent climates of
the South, can appreciate the delights of an abode combining
the breezy coolness of the mountain with the freshness and
verdure of the valley.
While the city below pants with the noon-tide heat, and the
parched Vega trembles to the eye, the delicate airs from the
Sierra Nevada play through the lofty halls, bringing with
them the sweetness of the surrounding gardens. Every thing
invites to that indolent repose, the bliss of Southern climes;
and while the half -shut eye looks out from shaded balconies
upon the glittering landscape, the ear is lulled by the rustling
of groves, and the murmur of running streams.
THE TOWER OF COMAEES.
THE reader has had a sketch of the interior of the Alhambra,
and may be desirous of a general idea of its vicinity. The
morning is serene and lovely; the sun has not gained suffi
cient power to destroy the freshness of the night; we will
mount to the summit of the tower of Comares, and take a
biixTs-eye view of Granada and its environs.
Come, then, worthy reader and comrade, follow my steps
into this vestibule ornamented with rich tracery, which opens
to the hall of Ambassadors. We will not enter the hall, how-
THE TOWER OF COM ARES. 20
ever, but turn to the left, to this small door, opening in the
wall. Have a care! here are steep winding steps and but
scanty light. Yet, up this narrow, obscure and winding stair
case, the pi-oud monarchs of Granada and their queens have
often ascended to the battlements of the tower to watch the
approach of Christian armies ; or to gaze on the battles in the
Vega. At length we are upon the terraced roof, and may take
breath for a moment, while we cast a general eye over the
splendid panorama of city and country, of rocky mountain,
verdant valley and fertile plain ; of castle, cathedral, Moorish
towers and Gothic domes, crumbling ruins and blooming
groves.
Let us approach the battlements and cast our eyes imme
diately below. See, on this side we have the whole plan of
the Alhambra laid open to us, and can look down into its
courts and gardens. At the foot of the tower is the Court of
the Alberca with its great tank or fish-pool bordered with
flowers; and yonder is the Court of Lions, with its famous
fountain, and its light Moorish arcades; and in the centre of
the pile is the little garden of Lindaraxa, buried in the heart
of the building, with its roses and citrons and shrubbery of
emerald green.
That belt of battlements studded with square towers, strag
gling round the whole brow of the hill, is the outer boundary
of the fortress. Some of the towers, you may perceive, are in
ruins, and their massive fragments are buried among vines,
fig-trees and aloes.
Let us look on this northern side of the tower. It is a giddy
height; the very foundations of the tower rise above the
groves of the steep hill-side. And see, a long fissure in the
massive walls shows that the tower has been rent by some of
the earthquakes, which from time to time have thrown Grana
da into consternation ; and which, sooner or later, must reduce
this crumbling pile to a mere mass of ruin. The deep narrow
glen below us, which gradually widens as it opens from the
mountains, is the valley of the Darro ; you see the little river
winding its way under embowered terraces, and among or
chards and flower gardens. It is a stream famous in old times
for yielding gold, and its sands are still sifted, occasionally, in
search of the precious ore.
Some of those white pavilions which here and there gleam
from among groves and vineyards, were rustic retreats of the
Moors, to enjoy the refreshment oj their gardens.
30 THE ALHAMBRA.
The airy palace with its tall white towers and long arcades,
which breast yon mountain, among pompous groves and hang
ing gardens, is the Generalise, a summer palace of the Moor
ish kings, to which they resorted during the sultry months,
to enjoy a still more breezy region than that of the Alhambra.
The naked summit of the height above it, where you behold
some shapeless ruins, is the Silla del Moro, or seat of the Moor;
so called from having been a retreat of the unfortunate Boab-
dil, during the time of an insurrection, where he seated himself
and looked down mournfully upon his rebellious city.
A murmuring sound of water now and then rises from the
valley. It is from the aqueduct of yon Moorish mill nearly at
the foot of the hill. The avenue of trees beyond, is the Ala-
meda along the bank of the Darro, a favourite resort in even
ings, and a rendezvous of lovers in the summer nights, when
the guitar may be heard at a late hour from the benches along
its walks. At present there are but a few loitering monks to
be seen there, and a group of water carriers from the fountain
of Avellanos.
You start ! 'Tis nothing but a hawk we have frightened
from his nest. This old tower is a complete brooding-place for
vagrant birds. The swallow and martlet abound in every
chink and cranny, and circle about it the whole day long ;
while at night, when all other birds have gone to rest, the mop
ing owl comes out of its lurking place, and utters its boding
cry from the battlements. See how the hawk we have dis
lodged sweeps away below us, skimming over the tops of the
trees, and sailing up to ruins above the Generaliffe.
Let us leave this side of the tower and turn our eyes to the
west. Here you behold in the distance a range of mountains
bounding the Vega, the ancient barrier between Moslem Grana
da and the land of the Christians. Among the heights you
may still discern warrior towns, whose gray walls and battle
ments seem of a piece with the rocks on which they are built ;
while here and there is a solitary atalaya or watch-tower,
mounted on some lofty point, and looking down as if it were
from the sky, into the valleys on either side. It was down the
defiles of these mountains, by the pass of Lope, that the Chris
tian armios descended into the Vega. It was round the base
of yon gray and naked mountain, almost insulated from the
rest, and stretching its bald rocky promontory into the bosom
of the plain, that the invading squadrons would come bxirsting
into view, with flaunting banners and the clangour of drums
THE TOWER OF COMARES. 81
and trumpets. How changed is the scene? instead of the
glittering line of mailed warriors, we behold the patient train
of the toilful muleteer, slowly moving along the skirts of the
mountain.
Behind that promontory, is the eventful bridge of Pinos,
renowned for many a bloody strife between Moors and Chris
tians ; but still more renowned as being the place Avhere Co-
Iambus was overtaken and called back by the messenger of
Queen Isabella, just as he was departing in despair to carry
his project of discovery to the court of France.
Behold another place famous in the history of the discoverer:
yon line of walls and towers, gleaming in the morning sun in
the very centre of the Vega ; the city of Santa Fe, built by the
Catholic sovereigns during the siege of Granada, after a con
flagration had destroyed their camp. It was to these walls
that Columbus was called back by the heroic queen, and within
them the treaty was concluded that led to the discovery of the
Western World.
Here, towards the south, the eye revels on the luxuriant
beauties of the Vega ; a blooming wilderness of grove and gar
den, and teeming orchards; with the Xenil winding through
it in silver links and feeding innumerable rills, conducted
through ancient Moorish channels, which maintain the land
scape in perpetual verdure. Here are the beloved bowers and
gardens, and rural retreats for which the Moors fought with
such desperate valour. The very farm-houses and hovels
which are now inhabited by the boors, retain traces of ara
besques and other tasteful decorations, which show them to
have been elegant residences in the days of the Moslems.
Beyond the embowered region of the Vega you behold, to
the south, a line of arid hills down which a long train of mules
is slowly moving. It was from the summit of one of those
hills that the unfortunate Boabdil cast back his last look upon
Granada and gave vent to the agony of his soul. It is the spot
famous in song and story, ' ' The last sigh of the Moor. "
Now raise your eyes to the snowy summit of yon pile of
mountains, shining like a white summer cloud on the blue sky.
It is the Sierra Nevada, the pride and delight of Granada ; the
source of her cooling breezes and perpetual verdure, of her
gushing fountains and perennial streams. It is this glorious
pile of mountains that gives to Granada that combination of
delights so rare in a southern city. The fresh vegetation, and
the temperate airs of a northern climate, with the vivifying
82 THE ALUAMBRA.
ardour of a tropical sun, and the cloudless azure of a soutnera
sky. It is this aerial treasury of snow, which, inciting in
proportion to the increase of the summer heat, sends down
rivulets and streams through every glen and gorge of the Al-
puxarras, diffusing emerald verdure and fertility throughout a
chain of happy and sequestered valleys.
These mountains may well be called the glory of Granada.
They dominate the whole extent of Andalusia, and may b
seen from its most distant parts. The muleteer hails them as
he views their frosty peaks from the sultry level of the plain ;
and the Spanish mariner on the deck of his bark, far, far off,
on the bosom of the blue Mediterranean, watches them with a
pensive eye, thinks of delightful Granada, and chants in low
voice some old romance about the Moors.
But enough, the sun is high above the mountains, and is
pouring his full fervour upon our heads. Already the terraced
roof of the town is hot beneath our feet, let us abandon it, and
descend and refresh ourselves under the arcades by the foun
tain of the Lions.
REFLECTIONS
ON THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IN SPAIN.
ONE of my favourite resorts is the balcony of the central
window of the Hall of Ambassadors, in the lofty tower of
Comares. I have just been seated there, enjoying the close of
a long brilliant day. The sun, as he sank behind the purple
mountains of Alhama, sent a stream of effulgence up the val
ley of the Darro, that spread a melancholy pomp over the
ruddy towers of the Alhambra, while the Vega, covered with
a slight sultry vapour that caught the setting ray, seemed
spread out in the distance like a golden sea. Not a breath of
air disturbed the stillness of the hour, and though the faint
Bound of music and merriment now and then arose from the
gardens of the Darro, it but rendered more impressive the
monumental silence of the pile which overshadowed me. It
was one of those hours and scenes in which memory asserts an
almost magical power, and, like the evening sun beaming on
these mouldering towers, sends back her retrospective rays to
light up the glories of the past.
REFLECTIONS. 33
As I sat watching the effect of the declining daylight upon
this Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration of the light,
elegant and voluptuous character prevalent throughout its
internal architecture, and to contrast it with the grand but
gloomy solemnity of the Gothic edifices, reared by the Spanish
conquerors. The very architecture thus bespeaks the opposite
and irreconcilable natures of the two warlike people, who so
long battled here for the mastery of the Peninsula. By de
grees I fell into a course of musing upon the singular features
of the Arabian or Morisco Spaniards, whose whole existence is
as a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the most
anomalous yet splendid episodes in history. Potent and dura
ble 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,
they seemed to have all the impetus of the first rush of tha
torrent. Their course of conquest from the rock of Gibraltar
to the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and brilliant as the
Moslem victories of Syria and Egypt. Nay, had they not
been checked on the plains of Tours, all France, all Europe,
might have been overrun with the same facility as the empires
of the east, and the crescent might at this day 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 principles of conquest, and sought to establish in
Spain a peaceful 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
embellish it with every thing that could administer to the
happiness of man. Laying the foundations of their power in
a system of wise and equitable laws, diligently cultivating the
arts and sciences, and promoting agriculture, manufactures,
and commerce, they gradually formed an empire unrivalled
for its prosperity, by any of the empires of Christendom ; and
diligently drawing round them the graces and refinements
that marked the Arabian empire in the east at the time of its
greatest civilization, they diffused the light of oriental know
ledge through the western regions of benighted Europe.
The cities of Arabian Spain became the resort of Christian
34 THE ALHAMBRA.
artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful arts. The uni
versities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and Granada were sought
by the pale student from other lands, to acquaint himself with
the sciences of the Arabs, and the treasured lore of antiquity ;
the lovers of the gay sciences resorted to Cordova and Gra
nada, to imbibe the poetry and music of the east ; and the
steel-clad warriors of the north hastened thither, to accom
plish themselves in the graceful exercises and courteous usages
of chivalry.
If the Moslem monuments in Spain; if the Mosque of Cor
dova, the Alcazar of Seville and the Alhambra of Granada,
still bear inscriptions fondly boasting of the power and per
manency of their dominion, can the boast be derided as arro
gant and vain? Generation after generation, century after
century had passed away, and still they maintained pos
session of the land. A period had elapsed longer than that
which has passed since England was subjugated by the Nor
man conqueror ; and the descendants of Musa and Tarik might
as little anticipate being driven into exile, across the same
straits traversed by their triumphant ancestors, as the de
scendants of Hollo and William and their victorious peers 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 permanent root in the soil it em
bellished. Severed from all their neighbours of the west by
impassable barriers of faith and manners, and separated by
seas and deserts from their kindred of the east, they were an
isolated people. Their whole existence was a prolonged though
gallant and chivalric struggle for a foot-hold in a usurped land.
They were the outposts and frontiers of Islainism. The pen
insula was the great battle ground where the Gothic con
querors of the north and the Moslem conquerors of the east,
met and strove for mastery ; and the fiery courage of the Arab
was at length subdued by the obstinate and persevering valour
of the Goth.
Never was the annihilation of a people more complete than
that of the Morisco Spaniards. Where are they ? Ask the
shores of Barbary and its desert places. The exiled remnant
of their once powerful empire disappeared among the bar
barians of Africa, and ceased to be a nation. They have not
even left a distinct name behind them, though for nearly eight
centuries they were a distinct people. The home of their
adoption and of their occupation for ages refuses to acknow-
THE HOUSEHOLD. 35
ledge them but as invaders and usurpers. A few broken
monuments are all that remain to bear witness to their power
and dominion, as solitary rocks left far in the interior bear
testimony to the extent of some vast inundation. Such is the
Alhambra. 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 HOUSEHOLD.
IT is time that I give some idea of my domestic arrangements
in this singular residence. The royal palace of the Alhambra
Is intrusted to the care of a good old maiden dame called Dona
Antonia Molina, but who, according to Spanish custom, goes
by the more neighbourly appellation of Tia Antonia (Aunt An
tonia). She maintains the Moorish halls and gardens in order,
and shows them to strangers ; in consideration of which, she is
allowed all the perquisites received from visitors and all the
produce of the gardens, excepting that she is expected to pay
an occasional tribute of fruits and flowers to the governor.
Her residence is in a corner of the palace, and her family con
sists of a nephew and niece, the children of two different broth
ers. The nephew, Manuel Molina, is a young man of sterling
worth and Spanish gravity. He has served in the armies both
in Spain and the West Indies, but is now studying medicine in
hopes of one day or other becoming physician to the for
tress, a post worth at least a hundred and forty dollars a year.
As to the niece, she is a plump little black-eyed Andalusian
damsel named Dolores, but who from her bright looks and.
cheerful disposition merits a merrier name. She is the declared
heiress of all her aunt's possessions, consisting of certain ruin
ous tenements in the fortress, yielding a revenue of about ono
hundred and fifty dollars. I had not been long in the Alham
bra before I discovered that a quiet courtship was going on be
tween the discreet Manuel and his bright-eyed cousin, and that
nothing was wanting to enable them to join their hands and
expectations, but that he should receive his doctor's diploma,
and purchase a dispensation from the pope, on account of their
consanguinity.
36 THE ALHAMBRA.
With the good dame Antonia I have made a treaty, accord-
ing to which, she furnishes me with board and lodging, while
the merry-hearted little Dolores keeps my apartment in order
and officiates as handmaid at meal times. I have also at my
command a tall, stuttering, yellow-haired lad named Pepe,
who works in the garden, and would fain have acted as valet,
but in this he was forestalled by Mateo Ximenes, " The son of
the Alhambra." This alert and officious wight has managed,
somehow or other, to stick by me, ever since I first encountered
him at the outer gate of the fortress, and to weave himself into
all my plans, until he has fairly appointed and installed him
self my valet, cicerone, guide, guard, and historio-graphic
squire; and I have been obliged to improve the state of his
wardrobe, that he may not disgrace his various functions, BO
that he has cast off his old brown mantle, as a snake does his
akin, and now figures about the fortress with a smart Andalu-
sian hat and jacket, to his infinite satisfaction and the great
astonishment of his comrades. The chief fault of honest Mateo
is an over-anxiety to be useful. Conscious of having foisted
himself into my employ, and that my simple and quiet habits
render his situation a sinecure, he is at his wit's end to devise
modes of making himself important to my welfare. I am in a
manner the victim of his officiousness ; I cannot put my foot
over the threshold of the palace to stroll about the fortress, but
he is at my elbow to explain every thing I see, and if I venture
to ramble among the surrounding hills, he insists upon attend
ing me as a guard, though I vehemently suspect he would be
more apt to trust to the length of his legs than the strength of
his arms in case of attack. After all, however, the poor fellow
is at times an amusing companion; he is simple-minded and of
infinite good humour, with the loquacity and gossip of a village
barber, and knows all the small talk of the place and its envi
rons; but what he chiefly values himself on is his stock of local
information, having the most marvellous stories to relate of
every tower, and vault and gateway of the fortress, in all of
which he places the most implicit faith.
Most of these he has derived, according to his own account,
from his grandfather, a little legendary tailor, who lived to the
age of nearly a hundred years, during which he made but two
migrations beyond the precincts of the fortress. His shop, for
the greater part of a century, was the resort of a knot of vener
able gossips, where they would pass half the night talking abou*
Did times and the wonderful events and hidden secrets of tbe>
THE HOUSEHOLD. 37
place. The whole living, moving, thinking and acting of this
little historical tailor, had thus been bounded by the walls ol
the Alhambra ; within them he had been born, within them he
lived, breathed and had his being, within them he died and
was buried. Fortunately for posterity his traditionary lor
died not with him. The authentic Mateo, when an urchin,
used to be an attentive listener to the narratives of his grand
father and of the gossip group assembled round the shop board,
and is thus possessed of a stock of valuable knowledge concern
ing the Alhambra, not to be found in the books, and well
worthy the attention of every curious traveller.
Such are the personages that contribute to my domestic com'
forts in the Alhambra, and I question whether any of the po
tentates, Moslem or Christian, who have preceded me in the
palace, have been waited upon with greater fidelity or enjoyed
a serener sway.
When I rise in the morning, Pepe, the stuttering lad, from
the gardens, brings me a tribute of fresh culled flowers, which
are afterwards arranged in vases by the skilful hand of Dolores,
who takes no small pride in the decorations of my chamber.
My meals are made wherever caprice dictates, sometimes in
one of the Moorish halls, sometimes under the arcades of the
Court of Lions, surrounded by flowers and fountains; and
when I walk out I am conducted by the assiduous Mateo to the
most romantic retreats of the mountains and delicious haunts
of the adjacent valleys, not one of which but is the scene of
some wonderful tale.
Though fond of passing the greater part of my day alone, yet
I occasionally repair in the evenings to the little domestic cir
cle of Dona Antonia. This is generally held in an old Moorish
chamber, that serves for kitchen as well as hall, a rude fire
place having been made in one corner, the smoke from which
has discoloured the walls and almost obliterated the ancient
arabesques. A window with a balcony overhanging the bal
cony of the Darro, lets in the cool evening breeze, and here I
take my frugal supper of fruit and milk, and mingle with the
conversation of the family. There is a natural talent, or mother
wit, as it is called, about the Spaniards, which renders them
intellectual and agreeable companions, whatever may be their
condition in life, or however imperfect may have been their
education ; add to this, they are never vulgar ; nature has en
dowed them with an inherent dignity of spirit. The good Tia
Antonia is a woman of strong and intelligent, though unculti-
38 TEE ALHAMBRA.
vated mind, and the bright-eyed Dolores, though she has read
but three or four books in the whole course of her life, has an
engaging mixture of naivete and good sense, and often sur
prises me by the pungency of her artless sallies. Sometimes
the nephew entertains us by reading some old comedy of Cal-
deron or Lope de Vega, to which he is evidently prompted by
a desire to improve as well as amuse his cousin Dolores, though
to his great mortification the little damsel generally f alls asleep
before the first act is completed. Sometimes Tia Antonia has
a little bevy of humble friends and dependants, the inhabitants
of the adjacent hamlet, or the wives of the invalid soldiers.
These look up to her with great deference as the custodian of
the palace, and pay their court to her by bringing the news of
the place, or the rumours that may have straggled up from
Granada. In listening to the evening gossipings, I have picked
up many curious facts, illustrative of the manners of the people
and the peculiarities of the neighbourhood.
These are simple details of simple pleasures ; it is the nature
of the place alone that gives them interest and importance. I
tread haunted ground and am surrounded by romantic asso-
iations. From earliest boyhood, when, on the banks of the
Hudson, I first pored over the pages of an old Spanish story
about the wars of Granada, that city has ever been a subject
of my waking dreams, and often have I trod in fancy the
romantic halls of the Alhambra. Behold for once a day-dream
realized ; yet I can scarcely credit my senses or believe that I
do indeed inhabit the palace of Boabdil, and look down from
its balconies upon chivalric Granada. As I loiter through the
oriental chambers, and hear the murmuring of fountains and
the song of the nightingale : as I inhale the odour of the rose
and feel the influence of the balmy climate, I am almost
tempted to fancy myself in the Paradise of Mahomet, and that
the plump little Dolores is one of the bright-eyed Houris, des
tined to administer to the happiness of true believers.
THE TRUANT.
SINCE writing the foregoing pages, we have had a scene of
petty tribulation in the Alhambra which has thrown a cloud
over the sunny countenance of Dolores. This little damsel has
THE TRUANT. g0
a female passion for pets of all kinds, from the superabundant
kindness of her disposition. One of the ruined courts of the
Alhambra is thronged with her favourites. A stately peacock
and his hen seem to hold regal sway here, over pompous tur
keys, querulous guinea fowls, and a rabble rout of common
cocks and hens. The great delight of Dolores, however, has
for some time past been centred in a youthful pair of pigeons,
who have lately entered into the holy state of wedlock, and
who have even supplanted a tortoise shell cat and kitten in her
affections.
As a tenement for them to commence housekeeping she had
fitted up a small chamber adjacent to the kitchen, the window
of which looked into one of the quiet Moorish courts. Here
they lived in happy ignorance of any world beyond the court
and its sunny roofs. In vain they aspired to soar above the
battlements, or to mount to the summit of the towers. Their
virtuous union was at length crowned by two spotless and
milk white eggs, to the great joy of their cherishing little mis
tress. Nothing could be more praiseworthy than the conduct
of the young married folks on this interesting occasion. They
took turns to sit upon the nest until the eggs were hatched,
and while their callow progeny required warmth and shelter.
While one thus stayed at home, the other foraged abroad for
food, and brought home abundant supplies.
This scene of conjugal felicity has suddenly met with a re
verse. Early this morning, as Dolores was feeding the male
pigeon, she took a fancy to give him a peep at the great world.
Opening a window, therefore, which looks down upon the val
ley of the Darro, she launched him at once beyond the walls of
the Alhaaibra. For the first time in his life the astonished
bird had to try the full vigour of his wings. He swept down
into the valley, and then rising upwards with a surge, soared
almost to the clouds. Never before had he risen to such a
height or experienced such delight in flying, and like a young
spendthrift, just come to his estate, he seemed giddy with
excess of liberty, and with the boundless field of action sud
denly opened to him. For the whole day he has been circling
about in capricious nights, from tower to tower and from tree
to tree. Every attempt has been made in vain to lure him
back, by scattering grain upon the roofs ; he seems to have lost
all thought of home, of his tender helpmate and his callow
young. To add to the anxiety of Dolores, he has been joined
by two palomas ladrones or robber pigeons, whose instinct it
40 THE ALHAMBRA.
is to entice wandering pigeons to their own dove-cotes. The
fugitive, like many other thoughtless youths on their first
launching upon the world, seems quite fascinated with theso
knowing, but graceless, companions, who have undertaken to
show him life and introduce him to society. He has been
soaring with them over all the roofs and steeples of Granada .
A thunder shower has passed over the city, but he has not
ought his home ; night has closed in, and still he comes not.
To deepen the pathos of the affair, the female pigeon, after
remaining several hours on the nest without being relieved, nt
length went forth to seek her recreant mate ; but stayed away
so long that the young ones perished for want of the warmth
and shelter of the parent bosom.
At a late hour in the evening, word was brought to Dolores
that the truant bird had been seen upon the towers of the Gen-
eraliffe. Now, it so happens that the Administrador of that
ancient palace has likewise a dove-cote, among the inmates ol
which are said to be two or three of these inveigling birds, tho
terror of all neighbouring pigeon fanciers. Dolores immedi
ately concluded that the two feathered sharpers who had been
seen with her fugitive, were these bloods of the Generaliffe. A
council of war was forthwith held in the chamber of Tia An-
tonia. The Generaliffe is a distinct jurisdiction from tho
Alhambra, and of course some punctilio, if not jealousy, exists
between their custodians. It was determined, therefore, to
send Pepe, the stuttering lad of the gardens, as ambassador to
the Administrador, requesting that if such fugitive should be
found in his dominions, he might be given up as a subject of
the Alhambra. Pepe departed, accordingly, on his diplomatic
expedition, through the moonlit groves and avenues, but
returned in an hour with the afflicting intelligence that no
such bird was to be found in the dove-cote of the Generaliffe.
The Administrador, however, pledged his sovereign word, that
if such vagrant should appear there, even at midnight, ho
should instantly be arrested and sent back prisoner to his littl
black-eyed mistress.
Thus stands this melancholy affair, which has occasioned
much distress throughout the palace, and has sent the incon^
solable Dolores to a sleepless pillow.
" Sorrow endureth for a night," says the proverb, "but joy
ariseth in the morning." The first object that met my eyes on
leaving my room this morning was Dolores with the truant
pigeon in her hand, and her eyes sparkling with joy. He bad
THE AUTHORS CHAMBER. 41
appeared at an early hour on the battlements, hovering shyly
about from roof to roof, but at length entered the window and
surrendered himself prisoner. He gained little credit, how
ever, by his return, for the ravenous manner in which he
devoured the food set before him, showed that, like the prodi
gal son, he had been driven home by sheer famine. Dolores
upbraided him for his faithless conduct, calling him all manner
of vagrant names, though wornan-like, she fondled him at the
same time to her bosom and covered him with kisses. I ob
served, however, that she had taken care to clip his wings to
prevent all future soarings ; a precaution which I mention for
the benefit of all those who have truant wives or wandering
husbands. More than one valuable moral might be drawn
from the story of Dolores and her pigeon.
THE AUTHOR'S CHAMBER.
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
Vvas in front of the palace, looking forth upon the esplanade.
The farther end communiated with a cluster of little chambers,
partly Moorish, partly modern, inhabited by Tia Antonia and
her family. These terminated in a large room which serves
the good old dame for parlour, kitchen, and hall of audience.
Et had boasted of some splendour in the time of the Moors, but
a fire-place had been built in one corner, the smoke from which
had discoloured the walls, nearly obliterated the ornaments,
and spread a sombre tint over the whole. From these gloomy
apartments, a narrow blind corridor and a dark winding'
Btaircase led down an angle of the tower of Comares ; groping
down which, and opening a small door at the bottom, you are
suddenly dazzled by emerging into the brilliant antechamber
of the hall of ambassadors, with the fountain of the court of
the Alberca sparkling before you.
I was dissatisfied with being lodged in a modern and frontier
apartment of the palace, and longed to ensconce myself in the
Very heart of the building.
As I was rambling one day about the Moorish halls, I found,
to. a remote gallery^ a doorjwhich I had not before noticed,
42 THE ALHAMBRA.
communicating apparently with an extensive apartment,
locked up from the public. Here then was a mystery. Here
was the haunted wing of the castle. I procured the key, how
ever, without difficulty. The door opened to a range of vacant
chambers of European architecture; though built over a
Moorish arcade, along the little garden of Lindaraxa. There
were two lofty rooms, the ceilings of which were of deep panel
work of cedar, richly and skilfully carved with fruits and
flowers, intermingled with grotesque masks or faces; but
broken in many places. The walls had evidently, in ancient
times, been hung with damask, but were now naked, and
scrawled over with the insignificant names of aspiring travel
lers ; the windows, which were dismantled and open to wind
and weather, looked into the garden of Lindaraxa, and the
orange and citron trees flung their branches into the chambers.
Beyond these rooms were two saloons, less lofty, looking also
into the garden. In the compartments of the panelled ceiling
were baskets of fruit and garlands of flowers, painted by no
mean hand, and in tolerable preservation. The walls had also
been painted in fresco in the Italian style, but the paintings
were nearly obliterated. The windows were in the same
shattered state as in the other chambers.
This fanciful suite of rooms terminated in an open gallery
with balustrades, which ran at right angles along another 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 this retired little garden,
that awakened an interest in its history. I found, on inquiry,
that it was an apartment fitted up by Italian artists, in the
early part of the last century, at the time when Philip V. and
the beautiful Elizabetta 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, though now
walled up, opened to the delightful belvedere, originally a
mirador of the Moorish sultanas, but fitted up as a boudoir for
the fair Elizabetta, 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
Generaliffe, and its embowered terraces; under another win
dow played the alabaster fountain of the garden of Lindaraxa.
That garden carried my thoughts still farther back, to the
period of another rei^n of bcautj", to the days of the
THE AUTHOR'S CHAMBER. 43
sultanas. "How beauteous is this garden!" says an Arabic
inscription, "where the flowers of the earth vie with the stars
of heaven ! what can compare with the vase of yon alabaster
fountain filled with crystal water? Nothing but the moon i
her fulness, shining in the midst of an unclouded sky !"
Centuries had elapsed, yet how much of this scene of appa
rently fragile beauty remained ! The garden of Lindaraxa was
still adorned with flowers; the fountain still presented its
crystal mirror : it is true, the alabaster had lost its whiteness,
and the basin beneath, overrun with weeds, had become the
nestling place of the lizard; but there was something in the
very decay that enhanced the interest of the scene, speaking,
as it did, of that mutability which is the irrevocable lot of man
and all his works. The desolation, too, of these chambers, once
the abode of the proud and elegant Elizabetta, had a more
touching charm for me than if I had beheld them in their
pristine splendour, glittering with the pageantry of a court I
determined at once to take up my quarters in this apartment.
My determination excited great surprise in the family ; who
could not imagine any rational inducement for the choice of
so solitary, remote and forlorn an apartment. The good Tia
Antonia considered it highly dangerous. The neighbourhood,
she said, was infested by vagrants; the caverns of the adjacent
hills swarmed with gipsies ; the palace was ruinous and easy
to be entered in many parts; and the rumour of a stranger
quartered alone in one of the ruined apartments, out of the
hearing of the rest of the inhabitants, might tempt unwelcome
visitors in the night, especially as foreigners are always sup
posed to be well stocked with money. Dolores represented the
frightful loneliness of the place; nothing but bats and owls
flitting about ; then there were a fox and a wild cat that kept
about the vaults and roamed about at night.
I was not to be diverted from my humour, so calling in
the assistance of a carpenter, and the ever officious Mateo
Ximenes, the doors and windows were soon placed in a state
of tolerable security.
With all these precautions, I must confess the first night I
passed in these quarters was inexpressibly dreary. I was
escorted by the whole family to my chamber, and there taking
leave of me, and retiring along the waste antechamber and
echoing galleries, reminded me of those hobgoblin stories,
where the hero is left to accomplish the adventure of a
ha.imted house.
44 THE ALHAMBRA.
Soon the thoughts of the fair Elizabetta and the beauties ol
her court, who had once graced these chambers, now by a per
version of fancy added to the gloom. Here was the scene of
their transient gaiety and loveliness ; here were the very traces
of their elegance and enjoyment ; but what and where were
they? Dust and ashes! tenants of the tomb! phantoms of tho
memory I
A vague and indescribable awe was creeping over me. 1
would fain have ascribed it to the thoughts of robbers, awakened
by the evening's conversation, but I felt that it was something
more unusual and absurd. In a word, the long buried impres
sions of the nursery were reviving and asserting their power
over my imagination. Every thing began to be affected by
the workings of my mind. The whispering of the wind among
the citron trees beneath my window had something' sinister. I
cast my eyes into the garden of Lindaraxa ; the groves present
ed a gulf of shadows; the thickets had indistinct and ghastly
shapes. I was glad to close the window ; but my chamber it/
self became infected. A bat had found its way in, and flitted
about my head and athwart my solitary lamp ; the grotesque
faces carved in the cedar ceiling seemed to mope and mow at
me.
Rousing myself, and half smiling at this temporary weak'
ness, I resolved to brave it, and, taking lamp in hand, sallied
forth to make a tour of the ancient palace. Notwithstanding
every mental exertion, the task was a severe one. The rays
of my lamp extended to but a limited distance around me ; I
walked as it were in a mere halo of light, and all beyond
was thick darkness. The vaulted corridors were as caverns;
the vaults of the halls were lost in gloom; what unseen foe
might not be lurking before or behind me; my own shadow
playing about the walls, and the echoes of my own footsteps
disturbed me.
In this excited state, as I was traversing the great Hall of
Ambassadors, there were added real sounds to these conjectural
fancies. Low moans and indistinct ejaculations seemed to rise
as it were from beneath my feet ; I paused and listened. They
then appeared to resound from without the tower. Sometimes
they resembled the howlings of an animal, at others they were
stifled shrieks, mingled with articulate ravings. The thrilling
effect of these sounds in that still hour and singular place, de
stroyed all inclination to continue my lonely perambulation.
I returned to my chamber with more alacrity than I had sallied
THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT. 45
forth, and drew my breath more freely when once more within
its walls, and the door bolted behind me.
When I awoke in the morning, with the sun shining in at my
window, and lighting up every part of the building with it?
cheerful and truth-telling beams, I could scarcely recall thv
shadows and fancies conjured up by the gloom of the preceding
night ; or believe that the scenes around me, so naked and ap
parent, could have been clothed with such imaginary horrors.
Still the dismal bowlings and ejaculations I had heard were
not ideal; but they were soon accounted for, by my handmaid
Dolores ; being the ravings of a poor maniac, a brother of her
aunt, who was subject to violent paroxysms, during which he
was confined in ^ vaulted room beneath the Hall of Ambas 1
sadors.
THE ALHAMBRA BY MOONLIGHT.
I HAVE given a picture of my apartment on my first taking
possession of it; a few evenings have produced a thorough
change in the scene and in my feelings. The moon, which then
was invisible, has gradually gained upon the nights, and now
rolls in full splendour above the towers, pouring a flood of
tempered light into every court and hall. The garden beneath
my window is gently lighted up ; the orange and citron trees
are tipped with silver; the fountain sparkles in the moon
beams, and even the blush of the rose is faintly visible.
I have sat for hours at my window inhaling the sweetness of
the garden, and musing on the chequered features of those
whose history is dimly shadowed out in the elegant memorials
around. Sometimes I have issued forth at midnight when every
thing was quiet, and have wandered over the whole building..
-Who can do justice to a moonlight night in such a climate,
and in such a place ! The temperature of an Andalusian mid
night, in summer, is perfectly ethereal. We seem lifted up
into a purer atmosphere ; there is a serenity of soul, a buoyancy
of spirits, an elasticity of frame that render 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 w@ather stain disappears ; the mar
ble resumes its original whiteness ; the long colonnades brighten
in the moon beams ; the halls are illuminated with a soften-" *
46 THE ALHAMBRA.
fadiance, until the whole edifice reminds one of the enchanted
palace of an Arabian tale.
At such time I have ascended to the little pavilion, called the
Queen's Toilette, to enjoy its varied and extensive prospect.
To the right, the snowy summits of the Sierra Nevada would
gleam like silver clouds against the darker firmament, and all
the outlines of the mountain would be softened, yet delicately
defined. My delight, however, would be to lean over the para
pet of the tocador, and gaze down upon Granada, spread out
like a map below me : all buried in deep repose, and its white
palaces and convents sleeping as it were in the moonshine.
Sometimes I would hear the faint sounds of castanets from
some party of dancers lingering in the Alameda ; at other times
I have heard the dubious tones of a guitar, and the notes of a
single voice rising from some solitary street, and have pictured
to myself some youthful cavalier serenading his lady's window ;
a gallant custom of former days, but now sadly on the decline
except in the remote towns and villages of Spain.
Such are the scenes that have detained me for many an hour
loitering about the courts and balconies of the castle, enjoying
that mixture of reverie and sensation which steal away exist
ence in a southern climate and it has been almost morning be
fore I have retired to my bed, and been lulled to sleep by the
falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa.
INHABITANTS OF THE ALHAMBEA.
I MATE often observed that the more proudly a mansion has
been tenanted in the day of its prosperity, the humbler are its
inhabitants in the day of its decline, and that the palace of the
king commonly ends in being the nestling place of tLc oeggar.
The Alhambra is in a rapid state of similar transition:
whenever a tower falls to decay, it is seized upon by some
tatterdemalion family, who become joint tenants with the
bats and owls of its gilded halls, and hang their rags, those
standards of poverty, out of its windows and loop-holes.
I have amused myself with remarking some of the motley
characters that have thus usurped the ancient abode of
royalty, and who seem as if piqced here to give a farcir-nJ
termination to the drama *i pride. One of tnese
INHABITANTS OF TEE ALHAMBRA. 47
even bears the mockery of a royal title. It is a little old
woman named Maria Antonia Sabonea, but who goes by
the appellation of la Reyna Cuquina, or the cockle queen.
She is small enough to be a fairy, and a fairy she may be
for aught I can find out, for no one seems to know her
origin. Her habitation is a kind of closet under the outer
-aircase of the palace, and she sits in the cool stone corri
dor plying her needle and singing from morning till nighty
i'dth a ready joke for every one that passes, for though
one of the poorest, she is one of the merriest little women
breathing. Her great merit is a gift for story -telling ; having,
I verily believe, as many stories at her command as the inex
haustible Scheherezade of the thousand and one nights. Some
of these I have heard her relate in the evening terfatlias of
Doiia Antonia, at which she is occasionally an humble attend
ant.
That there must be some fairy gift about this mysterious
little old woman, would appear from her extraordinary luck,
since, notwithstanding her being very little, very ugly, and
very poor, she has had, according to her own account, five
husbands and a half; reckoning as a half, one, a young
dragoon who died during courtship.
A rival personage to this little fairy queen is a portly old
fellow with a bottle nose, who goes about in a rusty garb,
with a cocked hat of oil skin and a red cockade. He is one of
the legitimate sons of the Alhambra, and has lived here all
his life, filling various offices ; such as Deputy Alguazil, sexton
of the parochial church, and marker of a fives court estab
lished at the foot of one of the towers. He is as poor as a rat,
but as proud as he is ragged, boasting of his descent from the
illustrious house of Aguilar, from which sprang Gonsalvo of
Cordova, the Grand Captain. Nay, he actually bears the name
of Alonzo de Aguilar, so renowned in the history of the con
quest, though the graceless wags of the fortress have given
him the title of el Padre Santo, or the Holy Father, the usual
appellation of the pope, which I had thought too sacred in the
eyes of true catholics to be thus ludicrously applied. It is a
whimsical caprice of fortune, to present in the grotesque
person of this tatterdemalion a namesake and descendant
of the proud Alonzo de Aguilar, the mirror of Andalusian
ehivalry, leading an almost mendicant existence about this
once haughty fortress, which his ancestor aided to reduce;
yet such might have been the lot of the descendants of Aga-
48 TUJi AL11AMBHA.
meinnon and Achilles, had they lingered about the ruins of
Troy.
Of this motley community I find the family of my gossiping
squire Mateo Ximenes to form, from their numbers at least, a
very important part. His boast of being a son of the Alhambra
is not unfounded. This family has inhabited the fortress ever
since the time of the conquest, handing down a hereditary
poverty from father to son, not one of them having ever been
known to be worth a marevedi. His father, by trade a riband
weaver, and who succeeded the historical tailor as the head of
the family, is now near seventy years of age, and lives in a
hovel of reeds and plaster, built by his own hands, just above
the iron gate. The furniture consists of a crazy bed, a table,
and two or three chairs; a wooden chest, containing his
clothes, and the archives of his family; that is to say, a
few papers concerning old law-suits which he cannot read;
but the pride of his heart is a blazon of the arms of the family,
brilliantly coloured and suspended in a frame against the wall,
clearly demonstrating by its quarterings the various noble
houses with which this poverty-stricken brood claim affinity.
As to Mateo himself, he has done his utmost to perpetuate
his line ; having a wife, and a numerous progeny who inhabit
an almost dismantled hovel in the hamlet. How they manage
to subsist, He only who sees into all mysteries can tell the
subsistence of a Spanish family of the kind is always a riddle
to me ; yet they do subsist, and, what is more, appear to enjoy
their existence. The wife takes her holyday stroll in the Paseo
of Granada, with a child in her arms, and half a dozen at her
heels, and the eldest daughter, now verging into womanhood,
dresses her hair with flowers, and dances gaily to the cas
tanets.
There are two classes of people to whom life seems one long
holyday, the very rich and the very poor; one because they
need do nothing, the other because they have nothing to do ;
but there are none who understand the art of doing nothing
and living upon nothing better than the poor classes of Spain.
Climate does one half and temperament the rest. Give a
Spaniard the shade in summer, and the sun in winter, a little
bread, garlic, oil and garbanzos, an old brown cloak and a
guitar, and let the world roll on as it pleases. Talk of poverty,
with him it has no disgrace. It sits upon him with a gran-
dioso style, like his ragged cloak. He is a hidalgo even when
in rags.
THE BALCONY. 4g
The "Sons of the Alhambra" are an eminent illustration o!
this practical philosophy. As the Moors imagined that the
celestial paradise hung over this favoured spot, so I am in
clined, at times, to fancy that a gleam of the golden age stiU
lingers about this ragged community. They possess nothing,
they do nothing, they care for nothing. Yet, though ap
parently idle all the week, they are as observant of all holy-
days and saints' days as the most laborious artisan. Thej
attend all fetes and dancings in Granada and its vicinity s
tight bon-fires on the hills on St. John's eve, and have lately
danced away the moonlight nights, on the harvest home of
a small field of wheat within the precincts of the fortress.
Before concluding these remarks I must mention one of the
amusements of the place which has particularly struck me. I
had repeatedly observed a long, lean fellow perched on the top
of one of the towers manoeuvring two or three fishing rods, as
though he was angling for the stars. I was for some time per
plexed by the evolutions of this aerial fisherman, and my per
plexity increased on observing others employed in like manner,
on different parts of the battlements and bastions ; it was not
until I consulted Mateo Ximenes that I solved the mystery.
It seems that the pure and airy situation of this fortress has
rendered it, like the castle of Macbeth, a prolific breeding-place
for swallows and martlets, who sport about its towers in
myriads, with the holyday glee of urchins just let loose
from school. To entrap these birds in their giddy circlings,
with hooks baited with flies, is one of the favourite amuse'
ments of the ragged "Sons of Wie Alhambra," who, with the
good-for-nothing ingenuity of arrant idlers, have thus invented
the an of angling in the sky.
THE BALCONY.
IN the Hall of Ambassadors, at the central window, there is
a balcony of which I have already made mention. It projects
like a cage from the face of the tower, high in mid-air, above
the tops of the trees that grow on the steep hill-side. It an
swers me as a kind of observatory, where I often take my seat
to consider, not merely the heavens above, but the "earth
beneath." Beside the magnificent prospect which it commands,
of mountain, valley, and Vega, there is a busy little scene of
60 THE ALHAMBRA.
human life laid open to inspection immediately below. At th
foot of the hill is an alameda or public walk, which, though not
so fashionable as the more modern and splendid paseo of tho
Xenil, still boasts a varied and picturesque concourse, especially
on holydays and Sundays. Hither resort the small gentry of
the suburbs, together with priests and friars who walk for appe
1 tite and digestion ; majos and majas, the beaux and belles of the
lower classes in their Andalusian dresses ; swagging contraban-
distas, and sometimes half -muffled and mysterious loungers of
the higher ranks, on some silent assignation.
It is a moving picture of Spanish life which I delight to
study ; and as the naturalist has his microscope to assist him
in his curious investigations, so I have a small pocket telescope
which brings the countenances of the motley groups so close as
almost at times to make me think I can divine their conversa
tion by the play and expression of their features. I am thus,
in a manner, an invisible observer, and without quitting my
solitude, can throw myself in an instant into the midst of
society a rare advantage to one of somewhat shy and quiet
habits.
Then there is a considerable suburb lying below the Alham-
bra, filling the narrow gorge of tb valley, and extending up
the opposite hill of the Albaycit- Many of the houses are
built in the Moorish style, round patios or courts cooled by
fountains and open to the sky ; and as the inhabitants pass
much of their time in these courts and on the terraced roofs
during the summer season, it follows that many a glance at
their domestic Me may be obtained by an aerial spectator like
myself, who can look down on them from the clouds.
I enjoy, in some degree, the advantages of the student in the
famous old Spanish story, who beheld all Madrid unroofed for
his inspection ; and my gossipping squire Mateo Ximenes offi
ciates occasionally as my Asmodeus, to give me anecdotes of
the different mansions and their inhabitants.
I prefer, however, to form conjectural histories for myself;
and thus can sit up aloft for hours, weaving from casual inci
dents and indications that pass under my eye, the whole tissue
of schemes, intrigues and occupations, carrying on by certain
of the busy mortals below us. There is scarce a pretty face or
striking figure that I daily see, about which I have not thus
gradually framed a dramatic story; though some of my
characters will occassionafly act in direct opposition to the
part assigned them, and disconcert my whole drama.
THE BALCONY. 51
A few days since as I was reconnoitring with my glass the
streets of the Albaycin, I beheld the procession of a novice
about to take the veil ; and remarked various circumstances
that excited the strongest sympathy in the fate of the youth
ful being thus about to be consigned to a living tomb. I ascer
tained, to my satisfaction, that she was beautiful ; and, by the
paleness of her cheek, that she was a victim, rather than a
votary. She was arrayed in bridal garments, and decked
'with a chaplet of white flowers ; but her heart evidently re
volted at this mockery of a spiritual union, and yearned after
its earthly loves. A tall stern-looking man walked near her
in the procession ; it was evidently the tyrannical father, who,
from some bigoted or sordid motive, had compelled this sacrifice.
Amidst the crowd was a dark, handsome youth, in Andalusian
garb, who seemed to fix on her an eye of agony. It was doubt
less the secret lover from whom she was for ever to be sepa
rated. My indignation rose as I noted the malignant exulta
tion painted in the countenances of the attendant monks and
friars. The procession arrived at the chapel of the convent ; the
sun gleamed for the last time upon the chaplet of the poor novice
as she crossed the fatal threshold and disappeared from sight.
The throng poured in with cowl and cross and minstrelsy. The
lover paused for a moment at the door; I could understand
the tumult of his feelings, but he mastered them and entered.
There was a long interval I pictured to myself the scene pass-
ing within. The poor novice despoiled of her transient finery
clothed in the conventual garb; the bridal chaplet taken
from her brow; her beautiful head shorn of its long silken
tresses I heard her murmur the irrevocable vow I saw her
extended on her bier ; the death pall spread over ; the funeral
service performed that proclaimed her dead to the world ; her
sighs were drowned in the wailing anthem of the nuns and the
sepulchral tones of the organ the father looked, unmoved,
'without a tear the lover no my fancy refused to portray
the anguish of the lover there the picture remained a blank.
The ceremony was over : the crowd again issued forth to be-
hold the day and mingle in the joyous stir of life but the
victim with her bridal chaplet was no longer there the door of
the convent closed that secured her from the world for ever.
I saw the father and the lover issue forth they were in ear
nest conversation the young man was violent in his gestures,
the wall of a house intervened and shut them from my
62 THE ALHAMBEA.
Thftt evening I noticed a solitary light twinkling from a re-
taote lattice of the convent. There, said I, the unhappy novice
Bits weeping in her cell, while her lover paces the street belo\t
In unavailing anguish.
- The officious Mateo interrupted my meditations and de-
Btroved, in an instant, the cobweb tissue of my fancy. With
his usual zeal he had gathered facts concerning the scene that
had interested me. The heroine of my romance was neither
young nor handsome she had no lover she had entered the
convent of her own free will, as a respectable asylum, and was
one of the cheerf ulest residents within its walls !
I felt at first half vexed with the nun for being thus happy
in her cell, in contradiction to all the rules of romance ; but
diverted my spleen by watching, for a day or two, the pretty
coquetries of a dark-eyed brunette, who, from the covert of a
balcony shrouded with flowering shrubs and a silken awning,
was carrying on a mysterious correspondence with a hand
some, dark, well- whiskered cavalier in the street beneath hor
window. Sometimes I saw him at an early hour, stealing
forth, wrapped to the eyes in a mantle. Sometimes he loitered
at the corner, in various disguises, apparently waiting for a
private signal to slip into the bower. Then there was a tink
ling of a guitar at night, and a lantern shifted from place to
place in the balcony. I imagined another romantic intrigue like
that of Almaviva, but was again disconcerted in all my suppo
sitions by being informed that the supposed lover was the
husband of the lady, and a noted contrabandist^ and that all
his mysterious signs and movements had doubtless some smug
gling scheme in view.
Scarce had the gray dawn streaked the sky and the earliest
ck crowed from the cottages of the hill-side, when the
suburbs gave sign of reviving animation ; for the fresh hours
of dawning are precious in the summer season in a sultry
climate. All are anxious to get the start of the sun in the
business of the day. The muleteer drives forth his loaded
train for the journey ; the traveller slings his carbine behind
hie saddle and mounts his steed at the gate of the hostel. The
brown peasant urges his loitering donkeys, laden with pan
niers of sunny fruit and fresh dewy vegetables ; for already
the thrifty housewives are hastening to the market.
The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, topping the
transparent foliage of the groves. The matin bells resound
melodiously through the pure bright air, announcing the hom
THE BALCONY. 53
of devotion. The muleteer halts his burdened animals before
the chapel, thrusts his staff through his belt behind, and
enters with hat in hand, smoothing his coal black hair, to
hear a mass and put up a prayer for a prosperous wayfaring
across the Sierra.
And now steals forth with fairy foot the gentle Sedk>ra, in
trim busquina ; with restless fan in hand and dark eye flash
ing from beneath her gracefully folded mantilla. She seeks
some well frequented church to offer up her orisons ; but the
nicely adjusted dress; the dainty shoe and cobweb stocking;
the raven tresses scrupulously braided, the fresh plucked rose
that gleams among them like a gem, show that earth divide*
with heaven the empire of her thoughts.
As the morning advances, the din of labour augments on
every side ; the streets are thronged with man and steed, and
beast of burden ; the universal movement produces a hum and
murmur like the surges of the ocean. As the sun ascends to
his meridian the hum and bustle gradually decline; at the
height of noon there is a pause ; the panting city sinks into
lassitude, and for several hours there is a general repose.
The windows are closed ; the curtains drawn ; the inhabitants
retired into the coolest recesses of their mansions. The full-
fed monk snores in his dormitory. The brawny porter lies
stretched on the pavement beside his burden. The peasant
and the labourer sleep beneath the trees of the Alameda,
lulled by the sultry chirping of the locust. The streets are
deserted except by the water carrier, who refreshes the ear by
proclaiming the merits of his sparkling beverage, "Colder
than mountain snow."
As the sun declines, there is again a gradual reviving, and
when the vesper bell rings out his sinking knell, all nature
seems to rejoice that the tyrant of the day has fallen.
Now begins the bustle of enjoyment. The citizens pour
forth to breathe the evening air, and revel away the brief
twilight in the walks and gardens of the Darro and the Xenil.
As the night closes, the motley scene assumes new features,
light after light gradually twinkles forth ; here a taper from
a balconied window ; there a votive lamp before the image of
a saint. Thus by degrees the city emerges from the pervading
gloom, and sparkles with scattered lights like the starry
firmament. Now break forth from court, and garden, and
street, and lane, the tinkling of innumerable guitars and the
clicking of castanets, blending at_ this lofty height, in a faint
54 THE ALHAMBRA
and general concert. "Enjoy the moment," is the creed of
the gay and amorous Andalusian, and at no time does he
practise it more zealously than in the balmy nights of sum
mer, wooing his mistress with the dance, the love ditty and
the passionate serenade.
I was seated one evening in the balcony enjoying the light
breeze that came rustling along the side of the hill among the
tree-tops, when my humble historiographer, Mateo, who was
at my elbow, pointed out a spacious house in an obscure street
of the Albaycin, about which he related, as nearly as I can
recollect, the following anecdote.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON.
THERE was once upon a time a poor mason, or bricklayer, in
Granada, who kept all the saints' days and holydays, and saint
Monday into the bargain, and yet, with all his devotion, he
grew poorer and poorer, and could scarcely earn bread for his
numerous family. One night he was roused from his first
sleep by a knocking at his door. He opened it and beheld
before him a tall, meagre, cadaverous-looking priest. "Hark
ye, honest friend," said the stranger, "I have observed that
you are a good Christian, and one to be trusted; will you
undertake a job this very night?"
"With all my heart, Sefior Padre, on condition that I am
paid accordingly."
"That you shall be, but you must suffer yourself to be
blindfolded."
To this the mason made no objection ; so being hoodwinked,
he was led by the priest through various rough lanes and
winding passages until they stopped before the portal of a
house. The priest then applied a key, turned a creaking lock
and opened what sounded like a ponderous door. They en
tered, the door was closed and bolted, and the mason was
conducted through an echoing corridor and spacious hall, to
an interior part of the building. Here the bandage was re
moved from his eyes, and he found himself in a patio, or
court, dimly lighted by a single lamp.
In the centre was a dry basin of an old Moorish fountain,
under which the priest requested him to form a small vault,
bricks and mortar being at lymd for the purpose. He accord
THE ADVENTURE OF THE MASON. 55
ingly worked all night, but without finishing the job. Just
before daybreak the priest put a piece of gold into his hand,
and having again blindfolded him, conducted him back to his
dwelling.
"Are you willing,'' said he, "to return and complete your
work?"
" Gladly, Senor Padre, provided I am as well paid."
"Well, then, to-morrow at midnight I will call again."
He did so, and the vault was completed. " Now," said the
priest, ' ' you must help me to bring forth the bodies that are to
be buried in this vault."
The poor mason's hair rose on his head at these words ; he
followed the priest with trembling steps, into a retired cham
ber of the mansion, expecting to behold some ghastly spectacle
of death, but was relieved, on perceiving three or four portly
jars standing in one corner. They were evidently full of
money, and it was with great labour that he and the priest
carried them forth and consigned them to their tomb. The
vault was then closed, the pavement replaced and all traces
of the work obliterated.
The mason was again hoodwinked and led forth by a route
different from that by which he had come. After they had
wandered for a long time through a perplexed maze of lanes
and alleys, they halted. The priest then put two pieces of gold
into his hand. "Wait here," said he, "until you hear the
cathedral bell toll for matins. If you presume to uncover
your eyes before that time, evil will befall you." So saying
he departed.
The mason waited faithfully, amusing himself by weighing
the gold pieces in his hand and clinking them against each
other. The moment the cathedral bell rung its matin peal, he
uncovered his eyes and found himself on the banks of the
jXenil ; from whence he made the best of his way home, and
revelled with his family for a whole fortnight on the profits of
his two nights' work, after which he was as poor as ever.
He continued to work a little and pray a good deal, and
keep holydays and saints' days from year to year, while his
family grew up as gaunt and ragged as a crew of gipsies.
As he was seated one morning at the door of his hovel, he
was accosted by a rich old curmudgeon who was noted for
owning many houses and being a griping landlord.
The man of money eyed him for a moment, from beneath a
pair of shagged eyebrows^
56 THE AL1IAMBKA.
" I am told, friend, that you are very poor."
" There is no denying the fact, Senor; it speaks for itself."
" I presume, then, you will be glad of a job, and will work
cheap."
"As cheap, my master, as any mason in Granada."
" That's what I want. I have an old house fallen to decay,
that costs me more money than it is worth to keep it in repair,
for nobody will live in it ; so I must contrive to patch it up
and keep it together at as small expense as possible."
The mason was accordingly conducted to a huge deserted
house that seemed going to ruin. Passing through several
empty halls and chambers, he entered an inner court, where
his eye was caught by an old Moorish fountain.
He paused for a moment. "It seems," said he, " as if I had
been in this place before; but it is like a dream. Pray who
occupied this house formerly?"
"A pest upon him!" cried the landlord. "It was an old
miserly priest, who cared for nobody but himself. He was
said to be immensely rich, and, having no relations, it was
thought he would leave all his treasure to the church. He
died suddenly, and the priests and friars thronged to take
possession of his wealth, but nothing could they find but a few
ducats in a leathern purse. The worst luck has fallen on
me ; for since his death, the old fellow continues to occupy my
house without paying rent, and there's no taking the law of a
dead man. The people pretend to hear at night the clinking
of gold all night long in the chamber where the old priest slept,
as if he were counting over his money, and sometimes a groan
ing and moaning about the court. Whether true or false
these stories have brought a bad name on my house, and not a
tenant will remain in it."
"Enough," said the mason sturdily "Let me live in your
house rent free until some better tenant presents, and I will
engage to put it in repair and quiet the troubled spirits that
disturb it. I am a good Christian and a poor man, and am not
to be daunted by the devil himself, even though he come in the
shape of a big bag of money."
The offer of the honest mason was gladly accepted; he
moved with his family into the house, and fulfilled all his en
gagements. By little and little he restored it to its former
state. The clinking of gold was no longer heard at night in
the chamber of the defunct priest, but began to be heard by
day in the pocket of the living mason. In a word, he in-
A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 57
creased rapidly in wealth, to the admiration of all his neigh
bours, and became one of the richest men in Granada. He
gave large sums to the church, by way, no doubt, of satisfying
his conscience, and never revealed the secret of his wealth
until on his deathbed, to his son and heir.
A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS.
I FREQUENTLY amuse myself towards the close of the day,
when the heat has subsided, with taking long rambles about
the neighbouring hills and the deep umbrageous valleys,
accompanied by my historiographer Squire Mateo, to whose
passion for gossiping, I, on such occasions, give the most un-
boundrng license ; and there is scarce a rock or ruin, or broken
fountain, or lonely glen, about which he has not some mar
vellous story ; or, above all, some golden legend ; for never was
poor devil so munificent in dispensing hidden treasures.
A few evenings since we took a long stroll of the kind, in
which Mateo was more than usually communicative. It was
towards sunset that we sallied forth from the great Gate of
Justice, and ascending an alley of trees, Mateo paused under a
clump of fig and pomegranate trees at the foot of a huge ruined
tower, called the Tower of the Seven Vaults, (de los siete
euelos.) Here, pointing to a low archway at the foundation of
the tower, he informed me, in an under tone, was the lurking-
place of a monstrous sprite or hobgoblin called the Belludo,
which had infested the tower ever since the time of the Moors ;
guarding, it is supposed, the treasures of a Moorish king.
Sometimes it issues forth in the dead of the night, and scourg
the avenues of the Alhambra and the streets of Granada in
the shape of a headless horse, pursued by six dogs, with
terrific yells and howlings.
' ' But have you ever met with it yourself, Mateo, in any of
your rambles?"
"No, sefior; but my grandfather, the tailor, knew several
persons who had seen it ; for it went about much more in his
time than at present : sometimes in one shape, sometimes in
another. Every body in Granada has heard of the Belludo,
for the old women and nurses frighten the children with it
trhen they cry. Some say it is the spirit of a cruel Moorish
58 THE ALHAMBRA.
king, who killed his six sons, and buried them in these vaults,
and that they hunt him at nights in revenge."
Mateo went on to tell many particulars about this redoubt
able hobgoblin, which has, in fact, been time ut of mind a
favourite theme of nursery tale and popular tradition in Gra
nada, and is mentioned in some of the antiquated guide-books.
When he had finished, we passed on, skirting the fruitful
orchards of the Generaliffe ; among the trees of which two oi
three nightingales were pouring forth a rich strain of melody.
Behind these orchards we passed a number of Moorish tanks,
with a door cut into the rocky bosom of the hill, but closed up.
These tanks Mateo informed me were favourite bathing-places
of himself and his comrades in boyhood, until frightened away
by a story of a hideous Moor, who used to issue forth from the
door in the rock to entrap unwary bathers.
Leaving these haunted tanks behind us, we pursued our
ramble up a solitary mule-path that wound among the bills,
and soon found ourselves amidst wild and melancholy moun
tains, destitute of trees, and here and there tinted with scanty
verdure. Every thing within sight was severe and sterile, and
it was scarcely possible to realize the idea that but a short dis
tance behind us was the Generaliffe, with its blooming or
chards and terraced gardens, and that we were in the vicinity
of delicious Granada, that city of groves and fountains. But
such is the nature of Spain wild and stern the moment it
escapes from cultivation, the desert and the garden are ever
side by side.
The narrow defile up which we were passing is called,
according to Mateo, el Barranco de la Tinaja, or the ravine of
the jar.
"And why so, Mateo?" inquired I.
"Because, sefior, a jar full of Moorish gold was found her*
in old times." The brain of poor Mateo is continually run
ning upon these golden legends.
"But what is the meaning of the cross I see yonder upon
a heap of stones in that narrow part of the ravine?"
"Oh I that's nothing a muleteer was murdered there some
years since."
"So then, Mateo, you have robbers and murderers even at
the gates of the Alhambra."
"Not at present, sefior that was, formerly, when there
used to be many loose fellows about the fortress; but they've
all been weeded out. Not but that the gipsies, who live in
A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 89
caves in the hill-sides just out of the fortress, are, many of
them, fit for any thing; but we haw had no murder about
here for a long time past. The man who murdered the mule
teer was hanged in the fortress."
Our path continued up the barranco, with a bold, rugged
height to our left, called the Silla del Moro, or chair of the
Moor; from a tradition that the unfortunate Boabdil fled
thither during a popular insurrection, and remained all day
seated on the rocky summit, looking mournfully down upon
his factious city.
We at length arrived on the highest part of the promon
tory above Granada, called the Mountain of the Sun. The
evening was approaching; the setting sun just gilded the lof
tiest heights. Here and there a solitary shepherd might be
descried driving his flock down the declivities to be folded for
the night, or a muleteer and his lagging animals threading
some mountain path, to arrive at the city gates before night
fall.
Presently the deep tones of the cathedral bell came swell
ing up the defiles, proclaiming the hour of Oracion, or prayer.
The note was responded to from the belfry of every church;
and from the sweet bells of the convents among the moun
tains. The shepherd paused on the fold of the hill, the mule
teer in the midst of the road; each took off his hat, and
remained motionless for a time, murmuring his evening
prayer. There is always something solemn and pleasing in
this custom ; by which, at a melodious signal, every human
being throughout the land, recites, at the same moment, a
tribute of thanks to God for the mercies of the day. It
diffuses a transient sanctity over the land, and the sight of the
sun sinking in all his glory, adds not a little to the solemnity
of the scene. In the present instance, the effect was height
ened by the wild and lonely nature of the place. We were on
the naked and broken summit of the haunted Mountain of the
Sun, where ruined tanks and cisterns, and the mouldering
foundations of extensive buildings, spoke of former populous-
ness, but where all was now silent and desolate.
As we were wandering among these traces of old times,
Mateo pointed out to me a circular pit, that seemed to pene
trate deep into the bosom of the mountain. It was evidently
a deep well, dug by the indefatigable Moors, to obtain their
favourite element in its greatest purity. Mateo, however, had
a different story, and much more to his humour. This was,
60 THE ALHAMBRA.
according to tradition, an entrance to the subterranean cav
erns of the mountain, in which Boabdil and his court lay
bound in magic spell ; and from whence they sallied forth at
night, at allotted times, to revisit their ancient abodes.
The deepening twilight, which in this climate is of such
short duration, admonished us to leave this haunted ground.
As we descended the mountain defiles, there was no longer
herdsman or muleteer to be seen, nor any thing to be hear J
but our own footsteps and the lonely chirping of the cricket.
The shadows of the valleys grew deeper and deeper, until all
was dark around us. The lofty summit of the Sierra Nevada
alone retained a lingering gleam of day-light, its snowy peaka
glaring against the dark blue firmament; and seeming close
to us, from the extreme purity of the atmosphere.
"How near the Sierra looks this evening !" said Mateo, "it
seems as if you could touch it with your hand, and yet il;
is many long leagues off." While he was speaking a star ap
peared over the snowy summit of the mountain, the only on*
yet visible in the heavens, and so pure, so large, so bright
and beautiful as to call forth ejaculations of delight from
honest Mateo.
" Que lucero hermoso! que claro y limpio es! no pueda ser
lucero mas brillante !"
(What a beautiful star ! how clear and lucid ! no star could
be more brilliant !)
I have often remarked this sensibility of the common people
of Spain to the charms of natural objects. The lustre of a star
the beauty or fragrance of a flower the crystal purity of a
fountain, will inspire them with a kind of poetical delight
and then what euphonious words their magnificent language
affords, with which to give utterance to their transports !
"But what lights are those, Mateo, which I see twinkling
along the Sierra Nevada, just below the snowy region, and
which might be taken for stars, only that they are ruddy and
against the dark side of the mountain?"
"Those, Senor, are fires made by the men who gather snow
and ice for the supply of Granada. They go up every after
noon with mules and asses, and take turns, some to rest and
warm themselves by the fires, while others fill their panniers
with ice. They then set off down the mountain, so as to reach
the gates of Granada before sunrise. That Sierra Nevada.
Sefior, is a lump of ice in the middle of Andalusia, to keep it
all cool in summer."
A RAMBLE AMONG THE HILLS. 61
It was now completely dark ; we were passing through the
barranco where stood the cross of the murdered muleteer,
when I beheld a number of lights moving at a distance and ap-
parently advancing up the ravine. On nearer approach they
proved to be torches borne by a train of uncouth figures ar
rayed in black ; it would have been a procession dreary enough
at any time, but was peculiarly so in this wild and solitary
place.
Mateo drew near, and told me in a low voice that it was a
funeral train bearing a corpse to the burying ground among
the hills.
As the procession passed by, the lugubrious light of the
torches, falling on the rugged features and funereal weeds of
the attendants, had the most fantastic effect, but was perfectly
ghastly as it revealed the countenance of the corpse, which,
according to Spanish custom, was borne uncovered on an open
bier. I remained for some time gazing after the dreary train
as it wound up the dark defile of the mountain. It put me
in mind of the old story of a procession of demons, bearing the
body of a sinner up the crater of Stromboli.
"Ah, Senor," cried Mateo, "I could tell you a story of a pro
cession once seen among these mountains but then you would
laugh at me, and say it was one of the legacies of my grand
father the tailor."
" By no means, Mateo. There is nothing I relish more than
ft marvellous tale."
"Well, Senor, it is about one of those very men we have
been talking of, who gather snow on the Sierra Nevada. You
must know that a great many years since, in my grandfather's
time, there was an old fellow, Tio Nicolo by name, who had
filled the panniers of his mules with snow and ice, and was
returning down the mountain. Being very drowsy, he
mounted upon the mule, and, soon falling asleep, went with
his head nodding and bobbing about from side to side, white
his sure-footed old mule stepped along the edge of precipices,
and down steep and broken barrancos just as safe and steady
as if it had been on plain ground. At length Tio Nicolo awoke,
and gazed about him, and rubbed his eyes and in good truth
he had reason the moon shone almost as bright as day, and
he saw the city below him, as plain as your hand, and shining
with its white buildings like a silver platter in the moonshine ;
but lord ! Senor ! it was nothing like the city he left a few
hours before. Instead of the cathedral with its great dome
62 THE ALHAMBRA.
and turrets, and the churches with their spires, and the con
vents with their pinnacles all surmounted with the blessed
cross, he saw nothing but Moorish mosques, and minarets,
and cupolas, all topped off with glittering crescents, such as
you see on the Barbary flags. Well, Sefior, as you may sup
pose, Tio Nicolo was mightily puzzled at all this, but while he
was gazing down upon the city, a great army came marching
up the mountain ; winding along the ravines, sometimes in the
moonshine, sometimes in the shade. As it drew nigh, he saw
that there were horse and foot, all in Moorish armour. Tio
Nicolo tried to scramble out of their way, but his old mule
stood stock still and refused to budge, trembling at the same
time like a leaf for dumb beasts, Senor, are just as much
frightened at such things as human beings. Well, Sefior, the
hobgoblin army came marching by; there were men that
seemed to blow trumpets, and others to beat drums and strike
cymbals, yet never a sound did they make ; they all moved on
without the least noise, just as I have seen painted armies
move across the stage in the theatre of Granada, and all
looked as pale as death. At last in the rear of the army,
between two black Moorish horsemen, rode the grand inquisi
tor of Granada, on a mule as white as snow. Tio Nicolo won
dered to see him in such company; for the inquisitor was
famous for his hatred of Moors, and indeed of all kinds of
infidels, Jews and heretics, and used to hunt them out with
fire and scourge however, Tio Nicolo felt himself safe, now
that there was a priest of such sanctity at hand. So, making
the sign of the cross, he called out for his benediction, when
hombre ! he received a blow that sent him and his old mule
over the edge of a steep bank, down which they rolled, head
over heels, to the bottom. Tio Nicolo did not come to his
senses until long after sunrise, when he found himself at the
bottom of a deep ravine, his mule grazing beside him, and his
panniers of snow completely melted. He crawled back to
Granada sorely bruised and battered, and was glad to find the
city looking as usual, with Christian churches and crosses.
When he told the story of his night's adventure, every one
laughed at him: some said he had dreamt it all, as he dozed
;>n his mule, others thought it all a fabrication of his own.
But what was strange, Senor, and made people afterwards
think more seriously of the matter, was, that the grand in
quisitor died within the year. I have often heard my grand
father, the tailor, say that there was more meant by that
THE COURT OF LIONS. 63
hobgoblin army bearing off the resemblance of the priest, than
folks dared to surmise. "
"Then you would insinuate, friend Mateo, that there is a
kind of Moorish limbo, or purgatory, in the bowels of these
mountains; to which the padre inquisitor was borne off."
" God forbid Senor I know nothing of the matter I only
relate what I heard from my grandfather."
By the time Mateo had finished the tale which I have more
succinctly related, and which was interlarded with many
comments, and spun out with minute details, we reached the
gate of the Alhambra.
THE COUKt OF LIONS.
THE peculiar charm of this old dreamy palace, is its power
of calling up vague reveries and picturings of the past, and
thus clothing naked realities with the illusions of the memory
and the imagination. As I delight to walk in these "vain
shadows," I am prone to seek those parts of the Alhambra
which are most favourable to this phantasmagoria of the
mind ; and none are more so than the Court of Lions and its
surrounding halls. Here the hand of time has fallen the
lightest, and the traces of Moorish elegance and splendour
exist in almost their original brilliancy. Earthquakes have
shaken the foundations of this pile, and rent its rudest towers,
yet see not one of those slender columns has been displaced,
not an arch of that light and fragile colonnade has given way,
and all the fairy fretwork of these domes, apparently as un
substantial as the crystal fabrics of a morning's frost, yet exist
after the lapse of centuries, almost as fresh as if from the hand
of the Moslem artist.
I write in the midst of these mementos of the past, in the
fresh hour of early morning, in the fated hall of the Abencer-
rages. The blood-stained fountain, the legendary monument
of their massacre, is before me ; the lofty jet almost casts its
dew upon my paper. How difficult to reconcile the ancient
tale of violence and blood, with the gentle and peaceful scene
around. Every thing here appears calculated to inspire kind
and happy feelings, for every thing is delicate and beautiful.
The very light falls tenderlv from above, through the lautero
64 THE ALHAMBRA.
of a dome tinted and wrought as if by fairy hands. Through
the ample and fretted arch of the portal, I behold the Court of
Lions, with brilliant sunshine gleaming along its colonnades
and sparkling in its fountains. The lively swallow dives into
the court, and then surging upwards, darts away twittering
over the roof ; the busy bee toils humming among the flower
beds, and painted butterflies hover from plant to plant, and
flutter up, and sport with each other in the sunny air. 1
needs but a slight exertion of the fancy to picture some pen
sive beauty of the harem, loitering in these secluded haunts of
oriental luxury.
He, however, who would behold this scene under an aspect
more in unison with its fortunes, let him come when the
shadows of evening temper the brightness of the court, and
throw a gloom into the surrounding halls, then nothing can
be more serenely melancholy, or more in harmony with the
tale of departed grandeur.
At such times I am apt to seek the Hall of Justice, whose
deep shadowy arcades extend across the upper end of the
court. Here were performed, in presence of Ferdinand and
Isabella, and their triumphant court, the pompous ceremonies
of high mass, on taking possession of the Alhambra. The very
cross is still to be seen upon the wall, where the altar was
erected, and where officiated the grand cardinal of Spain, and
others of the highest religious dignitaries of the land.
I picture to myself the scene when this place was filled with
the conquering host, that mixture of mitred prelate, and shorn
monk, and steel-clad knight, and silken courtier : when crosses'
and croziers and religious standards were mingled with proud
armorial ensigns and the banners of the haughty chiefs of
Spain, and flaunted in triumph through these Moslem halls.
1 picture to myself Columbus, the future discoverer of a world,
taking his modest stand in a remote corner, the humble and
neglected spectator of the pageant. I see in imagination the
Catholic sovereigns prostrating themselves before the altar
and pouring forth thanks for their victory, while the vaults
resound with sacred minstrelsy and the deep-toned Te Deum.
The transient illusion is over the pageant melts from the
fancy monarch, priest, and warrior return into oblivion, with
the poor Moslems over whom they exulted. The hall of their
triumph is waste and desolate. The bat flits about its twilight
vaults, and the owl hoots from the neighbouring tower oi
Comares. The Court of_tfce Lions has also its share of supec>
SEE COURT OF LIONS. 65
natural legends. I have already mentioned the belief in the
murmuring of voices and clanking of chains, made at night
by the spirits of the murdered Abencerrages. Mateo Ximenes,
a few evening since, at one of the gatherings in Dame An-
tonia's apartment, related a fact which happened within the
knowledge of his grandfather, the legendary tailor. There
was an invalid soldier, who had charge of the Alhambra, to
show it to strangers. As he was one evening about twilight
passing through the Court of Lions, he heard footsteps in the
Hall of the Abencerrages. Supposing some loungers to be
lingering there, he advanced to attend upon them, when, to his
astonishment, he beheld four Moors richly dressed, with gilded
cuirasses and scimitars, and poniards glittering with precious
stones. They were walking to and fro with solemn pace, but
paused and beckoned to him. The old soldier, however, took
to flight; and could never afterwards be prevailed upon to
enter the Alhambra. Thus it is that men sometimes turn
their backs upon fortune ; for it is the firm opinion of Mateo
that the Moors intended to reveal the place where their treas
ures lay buried. A successor to the invalid soldier was more
knowing ; he came to the Alhambra poor, but at the end of a
year went off to Malaga, bought horses, set up a carriage, and
still lives there, one of the richest as well as oldest men of the
place : all which, Mateo sagely surmises, was in consequence of
his finding out the golden secret of these phantom Moors.
On entering the Court of the Lions, a few evenings since, 1
was startled at beholding a turbaned Moor quietly seated near
the fountain. It seemed, for a moment, as if one of the stories
of Mateo Ximenes were realized, and some ancient inhabitant
f the Alhambra had broken the spell of centuries, and become
visible. It proved, however, to be a mere ordinary mortal ; a
native of Tetuan in Barbary, who had a shop in the Zacatin of
Granada, where he sold rhubarb, trinkets, and perfumes. As
he spoke Spanish fluently, I was enabled to hold conversation
with him, and found him shrewd and intelligent. He told me
that he came up the hill occasionally in the summer, to pass a
part of the <iay in the Alhambra, which reminded him of the
old palaces in Barbary, which were built and adorned in simi
lar style, though with less magnificence.
As we walked about the palace he pointed out several of the
Arabic inscriptions, as possessing much poetic beauty.
" Ah! Seiior," said he, " when the Moors held Granada, they
wrere a gayer people than they are now-a-days. They thought
66 THE AlHAMBRA.
only of love, of music, and of poetry. They made stanaaa
upon every occasion, and set them all tc music. He who could
make the best verses, and shp who had the most tuneful voice,
might be sure of favour and preferment. In those days, if
any one asked for bread the reply was, 'Make me a couplet;'
and the poorest beggar, if he begged in rhyme, would often b*
rewarded with a piece of gold."
"And is the popular feeling for poetry," said I, "entirely
lost among you?"
"By no means, Seller: the people of Barbary, even those of
the lower classes, still make couplets, and good ones too, as in
the old time, but talent is not rewarded as it was then : the
rich prefer the jingle of their gold to the sound of poetry or
music."
As he was talking, his eye caught one of the inscriptions
that foretold perpetuity to the power and glory of the Moslem
monarchs, the masters of the pile. He shook his head and
shrugged feis shoulders as he interpreted it. "Such might
have been the case," said he; "the Moslems might still have
been reigning in the Alhambra, had not Boabdil been a trai
tor, and given up his capitol to the Christians. The Spanish
monarchs would never have been able to conquer it by open
force."
I endeavoured to vindicate the memory of the unlucky Bo
abdil from this aspersion, and to show that the dissensions
which led to the downfall of the Moorish throne, originated in
the cruelty of his tiger-hearted father; but the Moor would
admit of no palliation.
"Abul Hassan," said he, "might have been cruel, but he
was brave, vigilant, and patriotic. Had he been properly
seconded, Granada would still have been ours; but his son
Boabdil thwarted his plans, crippled his power, sowed treason
in his palace, and dissension in his camp. May the curse of
God light upon him for his treachery." With these words the
Moor left the Alhambra.
The indignation of my turbaned companion agrees with an
anecdote related by a friend, who, in the course of a tour in
Barbary, had an interview with the pasha of Tetuan. The
Moorish governor was particular in his inquiries about the soil,
the climate and resources of Spain, and especially concerning
the favoured regions of Andalusia, the delights of Granada
and the remains of its royal palace. The replies awakened all
those fond recollections, so deeply cherished by the Moors, o
BOABDIL EL CHICO. Q' t
the power and splendour of their ancient empire in Spain*
Turning to his Moslem attendants, the pasha stroked his
beard, and broke forth in passionate lamentations that such a
sceptre should have fallen from the sway of true believers.
He consoled himself, however, with the persuasion, tliat the
power and prosperity of the Spanish nation were on the de
cline , that a time would come when the Moors would recon*
quer their rightful domains ; and that the day was, perhaps,
not far distant, when Mohammedan worship would again be
offered up in the mosque of Cordova, and a Mohammedan
prince sit on his throne in the Alhambra.
Such is the general aspiration and belief among the Moors of
Barbary ; who consider Spain, and especially Andalusia, their
rightful heritage, of which they have been despoiled by
treachery and violence. These ideas are fostered and per
petuated by the descendants of the exiled Moors of Granada,
scattered among the cities of Barbary. Several of these reside
in Tetuan, preserving their ancient names, such as Paez, and
Medina, and refraining from intermarriage with any families
who cannot claim the same high origin. Their vaunted lineage
is regarded with a degree of popular deference rarely shown in
Mohammedan communities to any hereditary distinction ex
cept in the royal line.
These families, it is said, continue to sigh after the terres
trial paradise of their ancestors, and to put up prayers in their
mosques on Fridays, imploring Allah to hasten the time when
Granada shall be restored to the faithful ; an event to which
they look forward as fondly and confidently as did the Chris
tian crusaders to the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. Nay, it
is added, that some of them retain the ancient maps and deeds
of the estates and gardens of then- ancestors at Granada, and
even the keys of the houses; holding them as evidences of
their hereditary claims, to be produced at the anticipated day
of restoration.
BOABDIL EL CHICO.
HT conversation with the Moor in the CotiMi of Lions set me
to musing on the singular fate ct Boabdil. Never was sur
name more applicable than that bestowed upon him by his
Bublects. of ' El Zoaoybi." on* ' ' tb/- unlucky. " His misfortunes
68 THE ALUAMBRA.
began almost in his cradle. In his tender youth he was impris
oned and menaced with death by an inhuman father, and only
escaped through a mother's stratagem ; in after years his life
was imbittered and repeatedly endangered by the hostilities of
a usurping uncle; his reign was distracted by external inva
sions and internal feuds ; he was alternately the foe, the pris
oner, the friend, and always the dupe of Ferdinand, until
conquered and dethroned by the mingled craft and force of
that perfidious monarch. An exile from his native land, he
took refuge with one of the princes of Africa, and fell ob-
ecurely in battle fighting in the cause of a stranger. His mis
fortunes ceased not with his death. If Boabdil cherished a
desire to leave an honourable name on the historic page, how
cruelly has he been defrauded of his hopes ! Who is there that
has turned the least attention to the romantic history of the
Moorish domination in Spain, without kindling with indigna
tion at the alleged atrocities of Boabdil? Who has not been
touched with the woes of his lovely and gentle queen, subjected
by him to a trial of life and death, on a false charge of infidel
ity? Who has not been shocked by the alleged murder of his
sister and her two children, in a transport of passion? Who
has not felt his blood boil at the inhuman massacre of the gal
lant Abencerrages, thirty-six of whom, it is affirmed, he caused
to be beheaded in the Court of the Lions? All these Charges
have been reiterated in various forms ; they have passed into
ballads, dramas, and romances, until they have taken too
thorough possession of the public mind to be eradicated.
There is not a foreigner of education that visits the Alhanv
bra, but asks for the fountain where the Abencerrages were
beheaded ; and gazes with horror at the grated gallery where
the queen is said to have been confined ; not a peasant of the
Vega or the Sierra, but sings the story in rude couplets to the
accompaniment of his guitar, while his hearers learn to exe
crate the very name of Boabdil.
Never, however, was name more foully and unjustly slan
dered. I have examined all the authentic chronicles and
letters written by Spanish authors contemporary with Boab
dil ; some of whom were in the confidence of the Catholic sove
reigns, and actually present in the camp throughout the war ;
I have examined all the Arabian authorities I could get access
to through the medium of translation, and can find nothing to
Justify these dark and hateful accusations.
The whole of these tales may be traced to a work commonly
BOABDIL EL CHICO. QQ
ealled "The Civil Wars of Granada," containing a pretended
history of the feuds of the Zegries and Abencerrages during
the last struggle of the Moorish empire. This work appeared
originally in Spanish, and professed to be translated from the
Arabic by one Gines Perez de Hita, an inhabitant of Murcia.
It has since passed into various languages, and Florian has
taken from it much of the fable of his Gonsalvo of Cordova.
It has, in a great measure, usurped the authority of real his
tory, and is currently believed by the people, and especially
the peasantry of Granada. The whole of it, however, is a mass
of fiction, mingled with a few disfigured truths, which give it
an air of veracity. It bears internal evidence of its falsity, the
manners and customs of the Moors being extravagantly mis
represented in it, and scenes depicted totally incompatible
with their habits and their faith, and which never could have
been recorded by a Mahometan writer.
I confess there seems to me something almost criminal in the
wilful perversions of this work. Great latitude is undoubtedly
to be allowed to romantic fiction, but there are limits which it
must not pass, and the names of the distinguished dead, which
belong to history, are no more to be calumniated than those of
the illustrious living. One would have thought, too, that the
unfortunate Boabdil had suffered enough for his justifiable
hostility to Spaniards, by being stripped of his kingdom, with
out having his name thus wantonly traduced and rendered a
bye- word and a theme of infamy in his native land, and in the
very mansion of his fathers !
It is not intended hereby to affirm that the transactions im
puted to Boabdil are totally without historic foundation, but
as far as they can be traced, they appear to have been the arts
of his father, Abul Hassan, who is represented, by both Chris
tian and Arabian chroniclers, as being of a cruel and ferocious
nature. It was he who put to death the cavaliers of the illus
trious line of the Abencerrages, upon suspicion of their being
engaged in a conspiracy to dispossess him of his throne.
The story of the accusation of the queen of Boabdil, and of
her confinement in one of the towers, may also be traced to an
incident in the life of his tiger-hearted father. Abul Hassan,
in his advanced age, married a beautiful Christian captive of
noble descent, who took the Moorish appellation of Zorayda.
by whom he had two sons. She was of an ambitious spirit,
and anxious that her children should succeed to the crown.
For this purpose she worked upon the suspicious temper of the
70 TEE ALHAMLJIA.
king; inflaming him with jealousies of his children hy his
other wives and concubines, whom she accused of plotting
against his throne and life. Some of them were slain by th*
ferocious father. Ayxa la Horra, the virtuous mother of Bo-
abdil, who had once been his cherished favourite, became
likewise the object of his suspicion. He confined her and her
son in the tower of Comares, and would have sacrificed Boab-
dil to his fury, but that his tender mother lowered him from
the tower, in the night, by means of the scarfs of herself and
her attendants, and thus enabled him to escape to Guadix.
Such is the only shadow of a foundation that I can find for
the story of the accused and captive queen; and in this it
appeal's that Boabdil was the persecuted instead of the per
secutor.
Throughout the whole of his brief, turbulent, and disastrous
reign, Boabdil gives evidences of a mild and amiable character.
He in the first instance won the hearts of the people by his
affable and gracious manners; he was always peaceable, and
never inflicted any severity of punishment upon those who
occasionally rebelled against him. He was personally brave,
but he wanted moral courage, and in times of difficulty and
perplexity, was wavering and irresolute. This feebleness of
spirit hastened his downfall, while it deprived him of that
heroic grace which would have given a grandeur and dignity
to his fate, and rendered him worthy of closing the splendid
drama of the Moslem domination in Spain.
MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL.
WHILE my mind was still warm with the subject of the un
fortunate Boabdil, I set forth to trace the m^tnentos connected
with his story, which yet exist in this scene of his sovereignty
and his misfortunes. In the picture gallery of the Palace of the
Generalise, hangs his portrait. The face is mild, handsome and
somewhat melancholy, with a fair complexion and yellow hair; v -
if it be a true representation of the man, he may have been
wavering and uncertain, but there is nothing of cruelty or un-
kindness in his aspect.
I next visited the dungeon wherein he was confined in his
youthful days, when his cruel father meditated his destruction.
MEMENTOS OF BOABDIL. 71
It is a vaulted room in the tower of Comares, under the Hall ol
Ambassadors. A similar room, separated by a narrow passage,
was the prison of his mother, the virtuous Ayxa la Horra.
The walls are of prodigious thickness, and the small windows
secured by iron bars. A narrow stone gallery, with a low par
apet, extends round three sides of the tower just below the
windows, but at a considerable height from the ground. From
this gallery, it is presumed, the queen lowered her son with the
scarfs of herself and her female attendants, during the dark
ness of night, to the hillside, at the foot of which waited a do
mestic with a fleet steed to bear the prince to the mountains.
As I paced this gallery, my imagination pictured the anxious
queen leaning over the parapet, and listening, with the throb-
bings of a mother's heart, to the last echo of the horse's hoofs,
as her son scoured along the narrow valley of the Darro.
My next search was for the gate by which Boabdil departed
from the Alhambra, when about to surrender his capital.
With the melancholy caprice of a broken spirit, he requested
of the Catholic monarchs that no one afterwards might be per
mitted to pass through this gate. His prayer, according to an
cient chronicles, was complied with, through the sympathy of
Isabella, and the gate walled up. For some time I inquired in
vain for such a portal ; at length my humble attendant, Mateo,
learned among the old residents of the fortress, that a ruinous
gateway still existed, by which, according to tradition, the
Moorish king had left the fortress, but which had never been
opened within the memory of the oldest inhabitant.
He conducted me to the spot. The gateway is in the centre
of what was once an immense tower, called la Torre de los
Siete Suelos, or, the Tower of the Seven Moors. It is a place
famous in the superstitious stories of the neighbourhood, for
being the scene of strange apparitions and Moorish enchant
ments.
This once redoubtable tower is now a mere wreck, having
been blown up with gunpowder, by the French, when they
abandoned the fortress. Great masses of the wall lie scattered
about, buried in the luxuriant herbage, or overshadowed by
vines and fig-trees. The arch of the gateway, though rent by
the shock, still remains ; but the last wish of poor Boabdil has
been again, though unintentionally, fulfilled, for the portal has
been closed up by loose stones gathered from the ruins, and re
mains impassable.
following up the route of the Moslem monarch as it remains
72 THE ALHAMBRA.
on record, I crossed on horseback the hill of Les Martyrs, keep
ing along the garden of the convent of the same name, and
thence down a rugged ravine, beset by thickets of aloes and
Indian figs, and lined by caves and hovels swarming with gip-
eies. It was the road taken by Boabdil to avoid passing
through the city. The descent was so steep and broken that I,
was obliged to dismount and lead my horse.
Emerging from the ravine, and passing by the Puerta do los
Molinos, (the Gate of the Mills,) I issued forth upon the public
promenade, called the Prado, and pursuing the course of the
Xenil, arrived at a small Moorish mosque, now converted into
the chapel, or hermitage of San Sebastian. A tablet on the
wall relates that on this spot Boabdil surrendered the keys of
Granada to the Castilian sovereigns.
From thence I rode slowly across the Vega to a village where
the family and household of the unhappy king had awaited
him; for he had sent them forward on the preceding night from
the Alhambra, that his mother and wife might not participate
in his personal humiliation, or be exposed to the gaze of the
conquerors.
Following on in the route of the melancholy band of royal
xiles, I arrived at the foot of a chain of barren and dreary
heights, forming the skirt of the Alpuxarra mountains. From
the summit of one of these, the unfortunate Boabdil took his
last look at Granada. It bears a name expressive of his sor
rowsLa Cuesta de las Lagrimas, (the Hill of Tears.) Beyond
it a sandy road winds across a rugged cheerless waste, doubly
dismal to the unhappy monarch, as it led to exile ; behind, in
the distance, lies the " enamelled Vega," with the Xenil shining
among its bowers, and Granada beyond.
I spurred my horse to the summit of a rock, where Boabdil
uttered his last sorrowful exclamation, as he turned his eyes
from taking their farewell gaze. It is still denominated el ul
timo suspiro del Moro, (the last sigh of the Moor.) Who can
wonder at his anguish at being expelled from such a kingdom
and such an abode? With the Alhambra he seemed to be
yielding up all the honours of his line, and all the glories and
delights of life.
It was here, too, that his affliction was imbittered by the re
proach of his mother Ayxa, who had so often assisted him in
times of peril, and had vainly sought to instil into him her own
resolute spirit. " You do well/ said she, " to weep as a woman
over what you could not defend as a man !" A speech that
THE TOWER OP LAS INFANTAS. 73
savours more of the pride of the princess, than the tenderness
of the mother.
When this anecdote was related to Charles V., by Bishop
Guevara, the emperor joined in the expression of scorn at the
weakness of the wavering Boabdil. "Had I been he, or he
been I," said the haughty potentate, "I would rather have
made this Alhambra my sepulchre, than have lived without a
kingdom in the Alpuxarra.
How easy it is for them in power and prosperity to preach
heroism to the vanquished ! How little can they understand
that lif e itself may rise in value with the unfortunate, when
nought but lif e remains.
THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS.
IN an evening's stroll up a narrow glen, overshadowed by
fig-trees, pomegranates, and myrtles, that divides the land of
the fortress from those of the G-eneraliffe, I was struck with
the romantic appearance of a Moorish tower in the outer wall
of the Alhambra, that rose high above the tree-tops, and
caught the ruddy rays of the setting sun. A solitary window,
at a great height, commanded a view of the glen, and as I was
regarding it a young female looked out, with her head adorned
with flowers. She was evidently superior to the usual class of
people that inhabit the old towers of the fortress; and this
sudden and picturesque glimpse of her, reminded me of the
descriptions of captive beauties in fairy tales. The fanciful
associations of my mind were increased on being informed by
my attendant, Mateo, that this was the tower of the princesses,
(la Torre de las Infantas,) so called from having been, accord
ing to tradition, the residence of the daughters of the Moorish
kings. I have since visited the tower. It is not generally
shown to strangers, though well worthy attention, for the
interior is equal for beauty of architecture and delicacy of
ornament, to any part of the palace. The elegance of its cen
tral hall with its marble fountain, its lofty arches and richly
fretted dome; the arabesques and stucco work of the small,
but well-proportioned chambers, though injured by time and
neglect, all accord with the story of its being anciently the
abode of royal beaut} *-
74 THE ALUAMBRA.
The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase of
the Alhambra, and frequents the evening tertulias of Darao
Antonia, tells some fanciful traditions about three Moorish
princesses who were once shut up in this tower by their father,
a tyrant king of Granada, and were only permitted to ride out
at night about the hills, when no one was permitted to come ii;
their way, under pain of death. They still, according to her
account, may be seen occasionally when the moon is in the
full, riding in lonely places along the mountain side, on pal
freys richly caparisoned, and sparkling with jewels, but they
vanish on being spoken to.
But before I relate any thing farther respecting these prin'
cesses, the reader may be anxious to know something about
the fair inhabitant of the tower with her head drest with
flowers, who looked out from the lofty window. She proved
to be the newly married spouse of the worthy adjutant of
invalids; who, though well stricken in years, had had tbd
courage to take to his bosom a young and buxom Andalusian
damsel. May the good old cavalier be happy in his choice,
and find the tower of the Princesses a more secure residence
for female beauty than it seems to have proved in the time of
toe Moslems, if we may believe the following legend.
THE HOUSE OF THE WEATHEBCOCK.
ON the brow of the lofty hill of the Albaycin, the highest
part of the city of Granada, stand the remains of what was
once a royal palace, founded shortly after the conquest of
Spain by the Arabs. It is now converted into a manufactory,
and has fallen into such obscurity that it cost me much trouble
to find it, notwithstanding that I had the assistance of the
sagacious and all-knowing Mateo Ximenes. This edifice still
bears the name by which it has been known for centuries,
namely, la Casa del Gallo de Viento ; that is, the House of the
Weathercock.
It was so called from a bronze figure of a warrior on horse
back, armed with shield and spear, erected on one of its tur
rets, and turning with every wind ; bearing an Arabic motto
tfhich, translated into Spanish, was as follows:
THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 7fl
Dici el Sabio Aben Habuz
Que asi se defieiide el Anduluz.
In this way, says Aben Habuz the wise,
The Andulusian his foe defies.
This Aben Habuz was a captain who served in the invading
army of Taric, and was left as alcayde of Granada. He ia
supposed to have intended this warlike effigy as a perpetual
memorial to the Moorish inhabitants, that surrounded as they
were by foes, and subject to sudden invasion, their safety
depended upon being always ready for the field.
Other traditions, however, give a different account of this
Aben Habuz and his palace, and affirm that his bronze horse
man was originally a talisman of great virtue, though in aftei
ages it lost its magic properties and degenerated into a weath
ercock. The following are the traditions alluded to.
THE LEGEND OF THE AEABIAN ASTEOLOGEBc
IN old times, many hundred years ago, there was a Moorish
king named Aben Habuz, who reigned over the kingdom of
Granada. He was a retired conqueror, that is to say, one
who, having in his more youthful days led a life of constant
foray and depredation, now that he was grown old and super
annuated, " languished for repose," and desired nothing more
than to live at peace with all the world, to husband his laurels,
and to enjoy in quiet the possessions he had wrested from his
neighbours.
It so happened, however, that this most reasonable and
pacific old monarch had young rivals to deal with princes full
of his early passion for fame and fighting, and who had some
scores to settle which he had run up with their fathers ; he
had also some turbulent and discontented districts of his own
territories among the Alpuxarra mountains, which, during
the days of his vigour, he had treated with a high hand ; and
Avhich, now that he languished for repose, were prone to rise
in rebellion and to threaten to march to Granada and drive
him. from his throne. To make the matter worse, as Granada
is surrounded by wild and craggy mountains which hide the
approach of an enemy, the unfortunate Aben Habuz was kept
in a constant state of vigilance and alarm, not knowing irt
what quarter hostilities might break out,
76 THE ALHAUBRA.
It was in vain that he built watch-towers on the mountains
and stationed guards at every pass, with orders to make fire*
by night, and smoke by day, on the approach of an enemy
His alert foes would baffle every precaution, and come break
ing out of some unthought-of defile, ravage his lands beneath
his very nose, and then make off with prisoners and booty to
the mountains. Was ever peaceable and retired conqueror in
a more uncomfortable predicament 1
While the pacific Aben Habuz was harassed by these per
plexities and molestations, an ancient Arabian physician ar
rived at his court. His gray beard descended to his girdle,
and he had every mark of extreme age, yet he had travelled
almost the whole way from Egypt on foot, with no other aid
than a staff marked with hieroglyphics. His fame had pre
ceded him. His name was Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub ; he was
said to have lived ever since the days of Mahomet, and to be
the son of Abu Ayub, the last of the companions of the prophet.
He had, when a child, followed the conquering army of Amru
into Egypt, where he had remained many years studying the
iark sciences, and particularly magic, among the Egyptian
priests. It was moreover said that he had found out the secret
of prolonging life, by means of which he had arrived to the
great ags of upwards of two centuries ; though, as he did not
discover the secret until well stricken in years, he could only
perpetuate his gray hairs and wrinkles.
This wonderful old man was very honourably entertained
by the king; who, like most superannuated monarchs, began
to take physicians into great favour. He would have assigned
him an apartment in his palace, but the astrologer preferred a
cave in the side of the bill, which rises above the city of Gran
ada, being the same on which the Alhambra has since been
built. He caused the cave to be enlarged so as to form a
spacious and lofty hall with a circular hole at the top, through
which, as through a well, he could see the heavens and behold
the stars even at mid-day. The wall of this hall were covered
with Egyptian hieroglyphics, with cabalistic symbols, and with
the figures of the stars in their signs. This hall he furnished
vrith many implements, fabricated under his direction by cun-
tiing artificers of Granada, but the occult properties of which
were only known to himself. In a little while the sage Ibra
him became the bosom counsellor of the king, to whom he ap*
plied tor advice in every emergency. Aben Habuz was once
inveighing against the injustice of his neighbours, and bewail
THE LEGEND OF TEE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 77
ing the restless vigilance he had to observe to guard
against their invasions ; when he had finished, the astrologer
remained silent for a moment, and then replied, "Know,
king, that when I was in Egypt I beheld a great marvel devised
by a pagan priestess of old. On a mountain above the city of
Borsa, and overlooking the great valley of the Nile, was a
figure of a ram, and above it a figure of a cock, both of molten
brass and turning upon a pivot. Whenever the country was
threatened with invasion, the ram would turn in the direction
of the enemy and the cock would crow ; upon this the inhabi
tants of the city knew of the danger, and of the quarter from
which it was approaching, and could take timely notice to
guard against it."
"God is great!'" exclaimed the pacific Aben Habuz ; "what
a treasure would be such a ram to keep an eye upon these
mountains around me, and then such a cock to crow in time of
danger! Allah Achbar! how securely I might sleep in my
palace with such sentinels on the top !"
" Listen, O king," continued the astrologer gravely. "When
the victorious Amru (God's peace be upon him !) conquered the
city of Borsa, this talisman was destroyed ; but I was present,
and examined it, and studied its secret and mystery, and can
make one of like, and even of greater virtues."
" O wise son of Abu Ayub," cried Aben Habuz, "better were
such a talisman than all the watch-towers on the hills, and
sentinels upon the borders. Give me such a safeguard, and
the riches of my treasury are at thy command."
The astrologer immediately set to work to gratify the wishes
of the monarch ; shutting himself up in his astrological hall,
and exerting the necromantic arts he had learnt in Egypt, he
summoned to his assistance the spirits and demons of the Nile.
iPy his command they transported to his presence a mummy
from a sepulchral chamber in the centre of one of the Pyra
mids. It was the mummy of the priest who had aided by
magic art in rearing that stupendous pile.
The astrologer opened the outer cases of the mummy, and
unfolded its many wrappers. On the breast of the corpse was
a book written in Chaldaic characters. He seized it with
trembling hand, then returning the mummy to its case,
ordered the demons to transport it again to its dark and silent
sepulchre in the Pyramid, there to await the final day of resur
rection and judgment.
This book, say the traditions, .was. the book of knowledge
78 TUB ALHAMBRA.
given by God to Adam after his fall. It had been handed
down from generation to generation, to King Solomon the
Wise, and by the aid of the wonderful secrets in magic and art
revealed in it, he had built the temple of Jerusalem. How it
had come into the possession of the builder of the Pyramids,
He only knows who knows all things.
Instructed by this mystic volume, and aided by the genii
which it subjected to his command, the astrologer soon erected
a great tower upon the top of the palace of Aben Habuz, which
stood on the brow of the hill of the Albaycin. The tower was
built of stones brought from Egypt, and taken, it is said, from
one of the Pyramids. In the upper part of the tower was a
circular hall, with windows looking toward every point of the
compass, and before each window was a table, on which was
arranged, as on a chess-board, a mimic army of horse and foot,
with the effigy of the potentate that ruled in that direction ; all
carved of wood. To each of these tables there was a small
lance, no bigger than a bodkin, on which were engraved certain
mysterious Chaldaic characters. This hall was kept constantly
closed by a gate of brass with a great lock of steel, the key of
which was in possession of the king.
On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of a Moorish
horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a shield on one arm, and his
lance elevated perpendicularly. The face of this horseman
was towards the city, as if keeping guard over it ; but if any
foe were at hand, the figure would turn in that direction and
would level the lance as if for action.
When this talisman was finished, Aben Habuz was all impa
tient to try its virtues ; and longed as ardently for an invasion
us he had ever sighed after repose. His desire was soon grati
fied. Tidings were brought early one morning, by the sentinel
appointed to watch the tower, that the face of the brazen horse
man was turned towards the mountains of Elvira, and that his
lance pointed directly against the pass of Lope.
" Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms, and all Gran
ada be put on the alert," said Aben Habuz.
"O king," said the astrologer, "let not your city be dis
quieted, nor your warriors called to arms ; we need no aid of
force to deliver you from your enemies. Dismiss your attend
ants and let us proceed alone to the secret hall ot the tower."
The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase of the tower,
leaning on the arm of the still more ancient Ibrahim Ebn Abu
Ayub. They unlocked the brazen door and entered. The
THE &SGSND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 79
window thai looked towards the pass of Lope was open. "In
this direction," said the astrologer, "lies the danger approach,
O king, and behold the mystery of the table. "
King Aben Habuz approached the seeming chess-board, on
which were arranged the small wooden effigies ; when lo ! they
were all in motion. The horses pranced and curveted, the
warriors brandished their weapons, and there was a faint
sound of drums and trumpets, and a clang of arms and neigh
ing of steeds, but all no louder, nor more distinct, than the
hum of the bee or summer-fly in the drowsy ear of him who
lies at noon-tide in the shade.
"Behold, O king," said the astrologer, "a proof that thy en
emies are even now in the field. The/ must be advancing
through yonder mountains by the pass of Lope. Would you
produce a panic and confusion amongst them, and cause them
to abandon their enterprise and retreat without loss of life,
strike these effigies with the butt end of this magic lance ; but
would you cause bloody feud and carnage aiaong them, strike
with the point."
A livid streak passed across the countenance of the pacific
Aben Habuz ; he seized the mimic lance with trembling eager
ness, and tottered towards the table ; his gray beard wagged
with chuckling exultation. "Son of Abu Ayub," exclaimed
he, " I think we will have a little blood !"
So saving he thrust the magic lance into some of the pigmy
effigies, and belaboured others with the butt end ; upon which
the former fell, as dead, upon the board, and the rest turning
upon each other, began, pell-mell, a chance-medley fight.
It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay the hand of
the most pacific of monarchs, and prevent him from absolutely
exterminating his foes. At length he prevailed upon him IK)
leave the tower, and to send out scouts to the mountains by
the pass of Lope.
They returned with the intelligence that a Christian army
had advanced through the heart of the Sierra, almost withia
sight of Granada, when a dissension having broken out among
them, they had turned their weapons against each other, and
after much slaughter, had retreated over the border.
Aben Habuz was transported with joy on thus proving the
efficacy of the talisman. "At length," said he, "I shall leaa
a life of tranquillity, and have all my enemies in my power.
Oh ! wise son of Abu Ayub, what can I bestow on thee in re-
ward for such a blessing 2"
80 THE ALHAMBRA.
"The wants erf an old man and a philosopher, king, are
few and simple grant me but the means of fitting up my cave
as a suitable hermitage, and I am content. "
" How noble is the moderation of the truly wise !" exclaimed
Aben Habuz, secretly pleased at the cheapness of the recom
pense. He summoned his treasurer, and bade him dispense
whatever sums might be required by Ibrahim to complete and
furnish his hermitage.
The astrologer now gave orders to have various chambers
hewn out of the solid rock, so as to form ranges of apartments
connected with his astrological hall. These he caused to be
furnished with luxurious ottomans and divans ; and the walls
to be hung with the richest silks of Damascus. " I am an old
man," said he, "and cam no longer rest my bones on stone
couches; and these damp walls require covering."
He also had baths constructed and provided with all kinds of
perfumery and aromatic oils; "for a bath," said he, "is neces
sary to counteract the rigidity of age, and to restore freshneas
and suppleness to the frame withered by study. "
He caused the apartments to be hung with innumerable silver
and crystal lamps, which he filled with a fragrant oil prepared
according to a receipt discovered by him in the tombs of Egypt.
This oil was perpetual in its nature, and diffused a soft radi
ance like the tempered light of day. "The light of the sun,"
said he, " is too garish and violent for the eyes of an old man;
and the light of the lamp is more congenial to the studies of a
philosopher."
The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned at the sums
daily demanded to fit up this hermitage, and he carried his
complaints to the king. The royal word, however, was given
Aben Habuz shrugged his shoulders. "We must have pa
tience," said he; "this old man has taken his idea of a philo
sophic retreat from the interior of the Pyramids and the vast
ruins of Egypt ; but all things have an end, and so will the
furnishing of his cavern."
The king was in the right ; the hermitage was at length com
plete, and formed a sumptuous subterranean palace. "I am
now content," said Ibrahim Ebn Abu Aynb, to the treasurer-,
" I will shut myself up in my cell and devote my time to study.
I desire nothing more, nothing, except a trifling solace to
amuse me at the intervals of mental labour."
" Oh 1 wise Ibrahim, ask what thou wilt; I am bound to fur
nish all that is necessary for thj>_ solitude."
THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 81
"I would fain have then a few dancing women," said the
philosopher.
"Dancing women!" echoed the treasurer with surprise.
"Dancing women," replied the sage, gravely: "a few will
suffice ; for I am an old man and a philosopher, of simple hab
its and easily satisfied. Let them, however, be young'jand fair
to look upon for the sight of youth and beauty is refreshing
f .o old age."
While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Ayub passed his time
thus sagely in his hermitage, the pacific Aben Habuz carried
on furious campaigns in effigy in his tower. It was a glorious
thing for an old man like himself, of quiet habits, to have war
made easy, and to be enabled to amuse himself in his chamber
by brushing away whole armies like so many swarms of flies.
For a time he rioted in the indulgence of his humours, and
^ven taunted and insulted his neighbours to induce them to
make incursions ; but by degrees they grew wary from repeated
disasters, until no one ventured to invade his territories. For
many months the bronze horseman remained on the peace
establishment with his lance elevated in the air, and the
worthy old monarch began to repine at the want of his ac>
customed sport, and to grow peevish at his monotonous tran
quillity.
At length^ one day, the talismanic horseman veered suddenly
round, and, lowering his lance, made a dead point towards the
mountains of Guadix. Aben Habuz hastened to his tower, but
the magic table in that direction remained quiet not a single
warrior was in motion. Perplexed at the circumstance, he sent
forth a troop of horse to scour the mountains and reconnoitre.
They returned after three days' absence. Rodovan, the captain
of the troop, addressed the king: "We have searched every
mountain pass," said he, "but riot a helm or spear was stirring.
All that we have found in the course of our foray was a Chris
tian damsel of surpassing beauty, sleeping at noon-tide beside
a fountain, whom we have brought away captive. "
"A damsel of surpassing beauty!" exclaimed Aben Habuz,
his eyes gleaming with animation: " let her be conducted into
my presence." "Pardon me, O king !" replied Rodovan, "but
our warfare at present is scanty ; and yields but little harvest.
I had hoped this chance gleaning would have been allowed for
my services."
" Chance gleaning!" cried Aben Habuz. " What! a damsel
of surpassing- beauty! By the head of m^ father! it is the
82 THE ALJTAMBRA.
Choice fruits of -warfare, only to be garnered up into the roya
keeping. Let the damsel be brought hither instantly."
The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted into his
presence. She was arrayed in the Gothic style, with all the
luxury of ornament that had prevailed among the Gothic
Spaniards at the time of the Arabian conquest. Pearls of
dazzling whiteness were entwined with her raven tresses ; and
jewels sparkled on her forehead, rivalling the lustre of her
eyes. Around her neck was a golden chain, to which was
suspended a silver lyre which hung by her side.
The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were like sparks of fire
on the withered, yet combustible breast of Aben Habuz, and
set it in a flame. The swimming voluptuousness of her gait
made his senses reel. "Fairest of women," cried he, with
rapture, " who and what art thou?"-
" The daughter of one of the Gothic princes who lately ruled
over this land. The armies of my father have been destroyed
as if by magic among these mountains, he has been driven into
exile, and his daughter is a slave."
" Be comforted, beautiful princess thou art no longer a
slave, but a sovereign ; turn thine eyes graciously upon Aben
Habuz, and reign over him and his dominions."
"Beware, O king," whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub;
" this may be some spirit conjured up by the magicians of the
Goths, and sent for thy undoing. Or it may be one of those
'northern sorceresses, who assume the most seducing forms to
beguile the unwary. Methinks I read witchcraft in her eye,
and sorcery hi every movement. Let my sovereign beware
this must be the enemy pointed out by the talisman." "Son
of Abu Ayub," replied the king, " you are a wise man and a
conjuror, I grant but you are little versed in the ways of
woman. In the knowledge of the sex, I will yield to no man;
no, not to the wise Solomon himself, notwithstanding the
number of his wives and his concubines. As to this damsel,
I see much comfort in her for my old days, even such comfort
as David, the father of Solomon, found in the society of
Abishag the Shunamite."
" Hearken, king," rejoined the astrologer, suddenly chang
ing his tone "I have given thee many triumphs over thy
enemies, and by means of my talisman, yet thou hast never
given me share of the spoils ; grant me this one stray captive
to solace me in my retirement, and I am content."
"What I" cried Aben Habuz. "more women! hast thou act
THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. 83
already dancing women to solace thee what more wouldst
thou desire."
"Dancing women, have I, it is true; but I have none that
sing; and music is a balm to old age. This captive, I perceive,
beareth a silver lyre, and must be skilled in minstrelsy. Give
her to me, I pray thee, to soothe my senses after the toil of
study."
The ire of the pacific monarch was kindled, and he loaded
the philosopher with reproaches. The latter retired indig
nantly to his hermitage; but ere he departed, he again
warned the monarch to beware of his beautiful captive.
Where, in fact, is the old man in love that will listen to coun
sel? Aben Habuz had felt the full power of the witchery of
tho eye, and the sorcery of movement, and the more he gazed,
the more he was enamoured.
He resigned himself to the full sway of his passions. His
only study, was how to render himself amiable in the eyes of
the Gothic beauty. He had not youth, it is true, to recom
mend him, but then he had riches ; and when a lover is no
longer young, he becomes generous. The Zacatin of Granada
was ransacked for the most precious merchandise of the East.
Silks, jewels, precious gems and exquisite perfumes, all that
Asia and Africa yielded of rich and rare, were lavished upon
the princess. She received all as her due, and regarded them
with the indifference of one accustomed to magnificence. All
kinds of spectacles and festivities were devised for her enter
tainment; minstrelsy, dancing, tournaments, bull-fights.
Granada, for a time, was a scene of perpetual pageant. The
Gothic princess seemed to take a delight in causing expense,
as if she sought to drain the treasures of the monarch. There
were no bounds to her caprice, or to the extravagance of her
ideas. Yet, notwithstanding all this munificence, the vener-
' able Aben Habuz could not flatter himself that he had made
any impression on her heart. She never frowned on him, it is
true, but she had a singular way of baffling his tender ad
vances. Whenever he began to plead his passion, she struck
her silver lyre. There was a mystic charm in the sound : on
hearing of it, an irresistible drowsiness seized upon the super
annuated lover, he fell asleep, and only woke when the tempo
rary fumes of passion had evaporated. Still the dream of love
had a bewitching power over his senses ; so he continued to
dream on ; while all Granada scoffed at his infatuation, and
croaned at the treasures lavished for a song.
84 TEE ALHAMBRA.
At tength a danger burst over the head of Aben
against which his talisman yielded him no warning. A re
bellion broke out in the very heart of his capital, headed by
the bold Rodovan. Aben Habuz was, for a time, besieged in
his palace, and it was not without the greatest difficulty that
he repelled his assailants and quelled the insurrection.
He now felt himself compelled once more to resort to the
assistance of the astrologer. He found him still shut up in his
hermitage, chewing the cud of resentment. "O wise son of
Abu Ayub," said he, "what thou hast foretold, has, in some
sort, come to pass. This Gothic princess has brought trouble
and danger upon me."
" Is the king then disposed to put her away from him?" said
the astrologer with animation.
"Sooner would I part with my kingdom!" replied Abeu
Habuz.
" What then is the need of disturbing me in my philosoph
ical retirement?" said the astrologer, peevishly.
" Be not angry, O sagest of philosophers. I would fain have
one more exertion of thy magic art. Devise some means by
which I may be secure from internal treason, as well as out
ward war some safe retreat, where I may take refuge and be
at peace."
The astrologer ruminated for a moment, and a subtle gleam
shone from his eye under his busy eyebrows.
"Thou hast heard, no doubt, O king," said he, "of the
palace and garden of Irem, whereof mention is made in that
chapter of the Koran entitled ' the dawn of day.' "
"I have heard of that garden, marvellous things are
related of it by the pilgrims who visit Mecca, but I have
thought them wild fables, such as those are prone to tell who
visit remote regions."
" Listen, O king, and thou shalt know the mystery of that
garden. In my younger days I was in Arabia the Happy,
tending my father's camels. One of them strayed away from
the rest, and was lost. I searched for it for several days about
the deserts of Aden, until wearied and faint, I laid myself
down and slept under a palm tree by the side of a scanty well
When I awoke, I found myself at the gate of a city. I entered
and beheld noble streets and squares and market places, but
all were silent and without an inhabitant. I wandered on
until I came to a sumptuous palace, with a garden adorned
with fountains and fish-ponds; and groves and flowers; and
THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. g5
orchards laden with delicious fruit ; but still no one was to be
seen. Upon which, appalled at this loneliness, I hastened to
depart, and, after issuing forth at the gate of the city, I turned
to look upon the place, but it was no longer to be seen, nothing
but the silent desert extended before my eyes.
" In the neighbourhood I met with an aged dervise, learned
in the traditions and secrets of the land, and related to him
what had befallen me. ' This, ' said he, ' is the far-famed gar
den of Irem, one of the wonders of the desert. It only appears
at times to some wanderer like thyself, gladdening him. with
the sight of towers and palaces, and garden walls overhung
with richly laden fruit trees, and then vanishes, leaving
nothing but a lonely desert. And this is the story of it: In
old times, when this country was inhabited by the Addiles,
king Sheddad, the son of Ad, the great grandson of Noah,
founded here a splendid city. When it was finished, and he
saw its grandeur, his heart was puffed up with pride and arro
gance, and he determined to build a royal palace, with gardens
that should rival all that was related in the Koran of the celes
tial paradise. But the curse of heaven fell upon him for his
presumption. He and his subjects were swept from the earth,
and his splendid city, and palace, and garden, were laid under
a perpetual spell, that hides them from the human sight, ex
cepting that they are seen at intervals ; by way of keeping his
sin in perpetual remembrance.'
"This story, O king, and the wonders I had seen, ever dwell
in my mind, and, in after years, when I had been in Egypt
and made myself master of all kinds of magic spells, I deter
mined to return and visit the garden of Irem. I did so, and
found it revealed to my instructed sight. I took possession of
the palace of Sheddad, and passed several days in his mock
paradise. The genii who watch ever the place, were obedient
to my magic power, and revealed to me the spells by which
fche whole garden had been, as it were, conjured into existence,
and by which it was rendered invisible. Such spells, O king,
are within the scope of my art. What sayest thou? Wouldst
thou have a palace and garden like those of Irem, filled with
all manner of delights, but hidden from the eyes of mortals?"
" O wise son of Abu Ayub," exclaimed Aben Habuz, trem
bling with eagerness " Contrive me such a paradise, and ask
any reward, even to the half of my kingdom."
"Alas," replied the other, " thou knowest I am an old man,
a philosopher, and easily satisfied ; all the reward I ask, is
86 TEE ALEAMBRA.
the first beast of burden, with its load, that shall enter the
magic portal of the palace."
The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a stipulation, and
the astrologer began his work. On the summit of the hill im
mediately above his subterranean hermitage he caused a great
gateway or barbican to be erected ; opening through the centre
of a strong tower. There was an outer vestibule or porch with
a lofty arch, and within it a portal secured by massive gates
On the key-stone of the portal the astrologer, with his own
1 hand, wrought the figure of a huge key, and on the key-stone
of the outer arch of the vestibule, which was loftier than that
of the portal, he carved a gigantic hand. These were potent
talismans, over which he repeated many sentences in an un
known tongue.
When this gateway ^as finished, he shut himself up for two
days in his astrological hall, engaged in secret incantations;
on the third he ascended the hill, and passed the whole day on
its summit. At a late hour of the night, he came down and
presented himself before Aben Habuz. " At length, O king,"
said he, "my labour is accomplished. On the summit of the
hill stands one of the most delectable palaces that ever the
head of man devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains
sumptuous halls and galleries, delicious gardens, cool fountains
and fragrant baths; in a word, the whole mountain is con
verted into a paradise. Like the garden of Irem, it is pro
tected by a mighty charm, which hides it from the view and
search of mortals, excepting such as possess the secret of its
talismans."
"Enough," cried Aben Habuz, joyfully; " to-morrow morn
ing, bright and early, we will ascend and take possession."
The happy monarch scarcely slept that night. Scarcely had
the rays of the sun begun to play about the snowy summit of
the Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his steed, and accom
panied only by a few chosen attendants, ascended a steep and
narrow road leading up the hill. Beside him on a white pal
frey, rode the Gothic princess, her dress sparkling with jewels,
while round her neck was suspended her silver lyre. The
astrologer walked on the other side of the king, assisting his
steps with his hieroglyphic staff, for he never mounted steed of
any kind.
Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the promised palace
brightening above him, and the embowered terraces of its gar
dens stretching along the heights, but as yet, nothing of the
THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN ASTROLOGER. $7
fcind was to be descried. "' That is the mystery and safeguard
of the place," said the astrologer, "nothing can be discerned
until you have passed the spell-bound gateway, and been put
in possession of the place."
As they approached the gateway, the astrologer paused, and
pointed out to the king the mystic hand and key carved upon
the portal and the arch. "These," said he, "are the talismans
which guard the entrance to this paradise. Until yonder hand
shall reach down and seize that key, neither mortal power, nor
magic artifice, can prevail against the lord of this mountain."
While Aben Habuz was gazing with open mouth and silent'
wonder at these mystic talismans, the palfrey of the princess
proceeded on, and bore her in at the portal, to the very centre
of the barbican.
"Behold," cried the astrologer, "my promised reward!
the first animal with its burden, that should enter the magic
gateway."
Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a pleasantry of
the ancient man ; but when he found him to be in earnest, his
gray beard trembled with indignation.
"Son of Abu Ayub," said he, sternly, " what equivocation is
this? Thou knowest the meaning of my promise, the first
beast of burden, with its load, that should enter this portal.
Take the strongest mule in my stables, load it with the most
precious things of my treasury, and it is thine. ; but dare not to
raise thy thoughts to her, who is the delight of my heart."
"What need I of wealth," cried the astrologer, scornfully;
"have I not the book of knowledge of Solomon the Wise,
and through it, the command of the secret treasures of the
earth? The princess is mine by right; thy royal word is
pledged; I claim her as my own."
The princess sat upon her palfrey, in the prid<9 of youth
and beauty, and a light smile of scorn curled her rosy lip, at
this dispute between two gray beards for her charms. The
wrath of the monarch got the better of his discretion. ' ' Base
son of the desert," cried he, " thou mayest be master of many
arts, but know me for thy master and presume not to juggle
with thy king."
" My master !" echoed the astrologer, " my king ! The mon
arch of a mole-hill to claim sway over him who possesses the
talismans of Solomon. Farewell, Aben Habuz ; reign over thy
petty kingdom, and revel in thy paradise of fools for me, ?
will laugh at thee in my philosophic retirement."
88 THE ALUAMBRA.
So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey, smote the
earth with his staff, and sank with the Gothic princess through
the centre of the barbican. The earth closed over them, and
no trace remained of the opening by which they had descended.
Aben Habuz was struck dumb for a time with astonishment.
Recovering himself he ordered a thousand workmen to dig
with pickaxe and spade into the ground where the astrologer
had di appeared. They digged and digged, but in vain ; the
flinty bosom of the hill resisted their implements; or if they
did penetrate a li ttle way, the earth filled in again as fast aa
they threw it out. Aben Habuz sought the mouth of the cav
ern at the foot of the hill, leading to the subterranean palace
of the astrologer, but it was no where to be found : where once
had been an entrance, was now a solid surface of primeval
rock. With the disappearance of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub
ceased the benefit of his talismans. The bronze horseman re
mained fixed with his face turned toward the hill, and his spear
pointed to the spot where the astrologer had descended, as
if there still lurked the deadliest foe of Aben Habuz. From
time to time the sound of music and the tones of a female voice
jould be faintly heard from the bosom of the hill, and a peasant
one day brought word to the king, that in the preceding night
he had found a fissure in the rock, by which he had crept ir
until he looked down into a subterranean hall, in which sa
flie astrologer on a magnificent divan, slumbering and nodding
to the silver lyre of the princess, which seemed to hold a magic
Bway over his senses.
Aben Habuz sought for the fissure in the rock, but it was
again closed. He renewed the attempt to unearth his rival,
but all in vain. The spell of the hand and key was too potent
to be counteracted by human power. As to the summit of the
mountain, the site of the promised palace and garden, it re
mained a naked waste: either the boasted Elysium was hidden
from sight by enchantment, or was a mere fable of the astrolo
ger. The world charitably supposed the latter, and some used
to call the place " the king's folly," while others named it " the
fool's Paradise."
To add to the chagrin of Aben Habuz, the neighbours, whom
he had defied and taunted, and cut up at his leisure, while
master of the talismanic horseman, finding him no longer pro
tected by magic spell, made inroads into his territories from
all sides, and the remainder of the life of the most pacific oi
monarch*, "^aa a tissue of turmoils.
LI- GEM) OF TU& THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 89
At length, Aben Habuz died and was buried. Ages have
since rolled away. The Alhambra has been built on the event
ful mountain, and in some measure realizes the fabled delights
of the garden of Irem. The spell-bound gateway still exists,
protected, no doubt, by the mystic hand and key, and now
forms the gate of justice, the grand entrance to the fortress.
Under that gateway, it is said, the old astrologer remains in'
his subterranean hall ; nodding on his divan, lulled by the sil
ver lyre of the princess.
The old invalid sentinels, who mount guard at the gate, hear
the strains occasionally in the summer nights, and, yielding to
their soporific power, doze quietly at their posts. Nay, so
drowsy an influence pervades the place, that even those who
wabch by day, may generally be seen nodding on the stone
benches of the barbican, or sleeping- under the neighbouring
trees ; so that it is, in fact, the drowsiest military post in all
Christendom. All this, say the legends, will endure; from
age to age tne princess will remain captive to the astrologer,
and the astrologer bound up in magic slumber by the princess,
until the last day ; unless the mystic hand shall grasp the fated
key, and dispel the whole charm of this enchanted mountain.
LEGEND OF THE THEEE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSEa
IN old times there reigned a Moorish king in Granada, whose
name was Mohamed, to which his subjects added the appella
tion of el Haygari, or " the left-handed." Some say he was so
called, on account of his being really more expert with his sin
ister, than his dexter hand ; others, because he was prone to
take everything by the wrong end ; or, in other words, to mar
wherever he meddled. Certain it is, either through misfortune
or mismanagement, he was continually in trouble. Thrice was
he driven from his throne, and on one occasion barely escaped
to Africa with his life, in the disguise of a fisherman. Still he
was as brave as he was blundering, and, though left-handed,
wielded his scimitar to such purpose, that he each time re
established Mmself upon his throne, by dint of hard fighting.
Instead, however, of learning wisdom from adversity, he
hardened his neck, and stiffened his left-arm in wilfulne c 3.
evils of a public nature which he thus brought upon hin>
90 TUE ALUAMBRA.
self and his kingdom, may be learned by those who will delve
into the Arabian annals of Granada ; the present legend deals
but with his domestic policy.
As this Mohamed was one day riding forth, with a train of
his courtiers, by the foot of the mountain of Elvira, he met a
band of horsemen returning from a foray into the land of the
Christians. They were conducting a long string of mules laden
with spoil, and many captives of both sexes, among whom, the
monarch was struck with the appearance of a beautiful damsel
richly attired, who sat weeping, on a low palfrey, and heeded
not the consoling words of a duenna, who rode beside her.
The monarch was struck with her beauty, and on inquiring
of the captain of the troop, found that she was the daughter of
the alcayde of a frontier fortress that had been surprised and
sacked in the course of the foray.
Mohamed claimed her as his royal share of the booty, and
had her conveyed to his harem in the Alhambra. There every
thing was devised to soothe her melancholy, and the monarch,
more and more enamoured, sought to make her his queen.
The Spanish maid at first repulsed his addresses. He was
an infidel he was the open foe of her country what was
worse, he was stricken in years !
The monarch finding his assiduities of no avail, determined
to enlist in his favour the duenna, who had been captured with
the lady. She was an Andalusian by birth, whose Christian
name is forgotten, being mentioned in Moorish legends, by no
other appellation than that of the discreet Cadiga and dis
creet, in truth she was, as her whole history makes evident.
No sooner had the Moorish king held a little private conversa
tion with her, than she saw at once the cogency of his reason
ing, and undertook his cause with her young mistress.
" Go to, now!" cried she; "what is there in all this to weep
and wail about? Is it not better to be mistreis of this beautiful
palace with all its gardens and fountains, than to be shut up
within your father's old frontier tower? As to this Mohamed
being an infidel what is that to the purpose? You marry him
not his religion. And if he is waxing a little old, the soone/
will you be a widow and mistress of yourself. At any rate you
are in his power and must either be a queen or a slave.
When in the hands of a robber, it is better to sell one's mer-
chandies for a fair price, than to have it taken by main force."
The arguments of the discreet Cadiga prevailed. The Span
ish lady dried her tears and became the spouse of Mohamed
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 91
the left-handed. She even conformed in appearance to the
faith of her royal husband, and her discreet duenna immedi
ately became a zealous convert to the Moslem doctrines; it
was then the latter received the Arabian name of Cadiga, and
was permitted to remain in the confidential employ of her
mistress.
In due process of time, the Moorish king was made the
proud and happy father of three lovely daughters, all born at
a birth. He could have wished they had been sons, but con
soled himself with the idea that three daughters at a birth,
were pretty well for a man somewhat stricken in years, and
left-handed.
As usual with all Moslem monarchs, he summoned his
astrologers on this happy event. They cast the nativities of
the three princesses, and shook their heads. "Daughters,
O king," said they, "are always precarious property; but
these will most need your watchfulness when they arrive at a
marriageable age. At that time gather them under your
wing, and trust them to no other guardianship."
Mohamed the left-handed was acknowledged by his courtiers
to be a wise king, and was certainly so considered by himself.
The prediction of the astrologers caused him but little disquiet,
trusting to his ingenuity to guard his daughters and outwit
the fates.
The threefold birth was the last matrimonial trophy of the
monarch; his queen bore him no more children, and died
within a few years, bequeathing her infant daughters to his
love, and to the fidelity of the discreet Cadiga.
Many years had yet to elapse before the princessei would
arrive at that period of danger, the marriageable age. "It is
good, however, to be cautious in time," said the shrewd mon
arch ; so he determined to have them reared in the royal castle
of Salobrena. This was a sumptuous palace, incrusted as it
were in a powerful Moorish fortress, on the summit of a hill
that overlooks the Mediterranean sea.
It was a royal retreat, in which the Moslem monarchs shut
up such of their relations as might endanger their safety;
allowing them all kinds of luxuries and amusements, in the
midst of which they passed their lives in voluptuous indolence.
Here the princesses remained, immured from the world, but
surrounded by enjoyments; and attended by female slaves
who anticipated their wishes. They had delightful gardens
for their recreation, filled with the rarest fruits and flowers,
92 THE ALHAMBRA
with aromatic groves and perfumed baths. On three sides tb
tastle looked down upon a rich valley, enamelled with all
kinds of culture, and bounded by the lofty Alpuxarra moun
tains ; on the other side it overlooked the broad sunny sea.
In this delicious abode, in a propitious climate and under
a cloudless sky, the three princesses grew up into wondrous
beauty; but, though all reared alike, they gave early tokens
of diversity of character. Their names were Zayda, Zorayda,
and Zorahayda ; and such was the order of seniority, for there
had been precisely three minutes between their births.
Zayda, the eldest, was of an intrepid spirit, and took the
lead of her sisters in every thing, as she had done in entering
first into the world. She was curious and inquisitive, and
fond of getting at the bottom of things.
Zorayda had a great feeling for beauty, which was the
reason, no doubt, of her delighting to regard her own image
in a mirror or a fountain, and of her fondness for flowers and
jewels, and other tasteful ornaments.
As to Zorahayda, the youngest, she was soft and timid, and
extremely sensitive, with a vast deal of disposable tenderness,
as was evident from her number of pet flowers, and pet birds,
and pet animals, all of which she cherished with the fondest
care. Her amusements, too, were of a gentle nature, and
mixed up with musing and reverie. She would sit for hours
in a balcony gazing on the sparkling stars of a summer night;
or on the sea when lit up by the moon, and at such times the
song of a fisherman faintly heard from the beach, or the notes
of an arrafia or Moorish flute from some gliding bark, sufficed
to elevate her feelings into ecstasy. The least uproar of the
elements, however, filled her with dismay, and a clap of thun
der was enough to throw her into a swoon,.
Years moved on serenely, and Cadiga, to whom the prin
cesses were confided, was faithful to her trust and attended
them with unremitting care.
The castle of Salobrefia, as has been said, was built upon a
hill on the sea coast. One of the exterior walls straggled down
the profile of the hill, until it reached a jutting rock overhang
ing the sea, with a narrow sandy beach at its foot, laved by
the rippling billows. A small watch tower on this rock had
been fitted up as a* pavilion, with latticed windows to admit
the sea breeze. Here the princesses used to pass the sultry
hours of mid-day.
The curious Zayda was one day seated at one of the windows
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 93
of the pavilion, as her sisters, reclined on ottomans, were tak
ing the siesta, or noon-tide slumber. Her attention had been
attracted to a galley, which came coasting along, with meas
ured strokes of the oar. As it drew near, she observed that it
was filled with armed men. The galley anchored at the foot
of the tower : a number of Moorish soldiers landed on the nar
row beach, conducting several Christian prisoners. The curi
ous Zayda awakened her sisters, and all three peeped cau
tiously through the close jalousies of the lattice, which
screened them from sight. Among the prisoners were three
Spanish cavaliers, richly dressed. They were in the flower of
youth, and of noble presence, and the lofty manner in which
they carried themselves, though loaded with chains and sur
rounded with enemies, bespoke the grandeur of their souls.
The princesses gazed with intense and breathless interest.
Cooped up as they had been in this castle among female at
tendants, seeing nothing of the male sex but black slaves, or
the rude fishermen of the sea coast, it is not to be wondered
at, that the appearance of three gallant cavaliers in the pride
of youth and manly beauty should produce some commotion
in their bosoms.
"Did ever nobler being tread the earth, than that cavalier in
crimson?" cried Zayda, the eldest of the sisters. "See how
proudly he bears himself, as though all around him were his
slaves !"
"But notice that one in green," exclaimed Zorayda; "what
grace ! what elegance ! what spirit !"
The gentle Zorahayda said nothing, but she secretly gave
preference to the cavalier in green.
The princesses remained gazing until the prisoners were out
of sight ; then heaving long-drawn sighs, they turned round,
looked at each other for a moment, and sat down musing and
pensive on their ottomans.
The discreet Cadiga found them in this situation; they re
lated to her what they had seen, and even the withered heart
of the duenna was warmed. "Poor youths!" exclaimed she,
" I'll warrant their captivity makes many a fair and high-born
lady's heart ache in their native land ! Ah, my children, you
have little idea of the life these cavaliers lead in their own
country. Such prankling at tournaments! such devotion to
the ladies ! such courting and serenading !"
The curiosity of Zayda was fully aroused. She was in
satiable in her inquiries, and drew from the duenna the most
94 TEE ALHAMBRA.
animated pictures of the scenes of her youthful days and
native land. The beautiful Zorayda bridled up, and slyly re
garded herself in a mirror, when the theme turned upon the
charms of the Spanish ladies ; while Zorahayda suppressed a
struggling sigh at the mention of moonlight serenades.
Every day the curious Zayda renewed her inquiries; and
every day the sage duenna repeated her stories, which were
listened to with unmoved interest, though frequent sighs, bj
her gentle auditors. The discreet old woman at length awak
ened to the mischief she might be doing. She had been ac
customed to think of the princesses only as children, but they
had imperceptibly ripened beneath her eye, and now bloomed
before her three lovely damsels of the marriageable age. It is
time, thought the duenna, to give notice to the king.
Mohamed the left-handed was seated one morning on a
divan in one of the court halls of the Alhambra, when a noble
arrived from the fortress of Salobrena, with a message from
the sage Cadiga, congratulating him on the anniversary of his
daughters' birth-day. The slave at the same time presented a
delicate little basket decorated with flowers, within which, on
a couch of vine and fig leaves, lay a peach, an apricot, and a
nectarine, with their bloom and down, and dewy sweetness
upon them, and all in the early stage of tempting ripeness.
The monarch was versed in the oriental language of fruits and
flowers, and readily divined the meaning of this emblematical
offering.
"So," said he, "the critical period pointed out by the as
trologers is arrived. My daughters are at a marriageable age.
What is to be done? They are shut up from the eyes of men,
they are under the eye of the discreet Cadiga all very good
but still they are not under my own eye, as was prescribed by
the astrologers. ' I must gather them under my wing, and
trust to no other guardianship.' "
So saying, he ordered that a tower of the Alhambra should
be prepared for their reception, and departed at the head of
his guards for the fortress of Salobrena, to conduct them home
in person.
About three years had elapsed since Mohamed had beheld
bis daughters, and he could scarcely credit his eyes at the
wonderful change which that small space of time had made in
their appearance. During the interval they had passed thnt
wondrous boundary line in. female life, which separates the
crude, unformed, and thQu^htlcs3,jgirl from the blooming,
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 9."
blushing, meditative woman. It is like passing from the flat,
bleak, uninteresting plains of La Mancha to the voluptuous
valleys and swelling hills of Andalusia.
Zayda was tall and finely formed, with a lofty demeanour
and a penetrating eye. She entered with a stately and decided
step, and made a profound reverence to Mohamed, treating
him more as her sovereign than her father. Zorayda was of
the middle height, with an alluring look and swimming gait,
and a sparkling beauty heightened by the assistance of the
toilette. She approached her father with a smile, kissed his
hand, and saluted him with several stanzas from a popular
Arabian poet, with which the monarch was delighted. Zora-
hayda was shy and timid ; smaller than her sisters, and with
a beauty of that tender, beseeching kind which looks for fond
ness and protection. She was little fitted to command like
her elder sister, or to dazzle like the second ; but was rather
formed to creep to the bosom of manly affection, to nestle
within it, and be content. She drew near her father with a
timid and almost faltering step, and would have taken his
hand to kiss, but on looking up into his face, and seeing it
beaming with a paternal smile, the tenderness of her nature
broke forth, and she threw herself upon his neck.
Mohamed, the left-handed, surveyed his blooming daughters
with mingled pride and perplexity; for while he exulted in
their charms, he bethought himself of the prediction of the
astrologers. "Three daughters! three daughters !" muttered
he, repeatedly to himself, "and all of a marriageable age!
Here's tempting hesperian fruit, that requires a dragoa watch !"
He prepared for his return to Granada, by sending heralds
before him, commanding every one to keep out of the road by
which he was to pass, and that all doors and windows should
be closed at the approach of the princesses. This done, he set
forth escorted by a troop of black horsemen of hideous aspect,
and clad in shining armour.
The princesses rode beside the king, closely veiled, on beauti
ful white palfreys, with velvet caparisons embroidered with
gold, and sweeping the ground ; the bits and stirrups were of
gold, and the silken bridles adorned with pearls and precious
stones. The palfreys were covered with little silver bells that
made the most musical tinkling as they ambled gently along.
Wo to the unlucky wight, however, who lingered in the way
when he heard the tinkling of these bellsthe guards were or
dered to cut him down without mercy*.
96 TUB ALUAMBRA.
The cavalcade was drawing near to Granada, when it over
took, on the banks of the river Xenil, a small body of Moorish
soldiers, with a convoy of prisoners. It was too late for the
soldiers to get out of the way, so they threw themselves on
their faces on the earth, ordering their captives to do the like.
Among the prisoners, were the three identical cavaliers whom
the princesses had seen from the pavilion. They either did
not understand, or were too haughty to obey the order, and
remained standing and gazing upon the cavalcade as it ap
proached.
The ire of the monarch was kindled at this flagrant defiance
of his orders, and he determined to punish it with his own
hand. Drawing his scimitar and pressing forward, he was
about to deal a left-handed blow, that would have been fatal
to at least one of the gazers, when the princesses crowded
round him, and implored mercy for the prisoners; even the
timid Zorahayda forgot her shyness and became eloquent in
their behalf. Mohamed paused, with uplifted scimitar, when
the captain of the guard threw himself at his feet. " Let not
your majesty," said he, "do a deed that may cause great
scandal throughout the kingdom. These are three brave and
noble Spanish knights who have been taken in battle, fighting
like lions ; they are of high birth, and may bring great ran
soms."
"Enough," said the king; "I will spare their lives, but
punish their audacity let them be taken to the Vermilion
towers and put to hard labour."
Mohamed was making one of his usual left-handed blunders.
In the tumult and agitation of this blustering scene, the veils
of the three princesses had been thrown back, and the radi
ance of their beauty revealed; and in prolonging the parley,
the king had given that beauty time to have its full effect.
In those days, people fell in love much more suddenly than
at present, as all ancient stories make manifest; it is not
a matter of wonder, therefore, that the hearts of the three
cavaliers were completely captivated; especially as grati
tude was added to their admiration: it is a little singular,
however, though no less certain, that each of them was
enraptured with a several beauty. As to the princesses,
they were more than ever struck with the noble demeanour
of the captives, and cherished in their hearts all that they
had heard of their valour and noble lineage.
The cavalcade resumed its march; the three princesses
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 97
rode pensively along on their tinkling palfreys, now and
then stealing a glance behind in search of the Christian
captives, and the latter were conducted to their allotted
prison in the Vermilion towers.
The residence provided for the princesses, was one of the
most dainty that fancy could devise. It was in a tower
somewhat apart from the main palace of the Alhambra,
though connected with it by the main wall that encircled
the whole summit of the hill. On one side it looked into
the interior of the fortress, and had at its foot a small gar
den filled with the rarest flowers. On the other side it over
looked a deep embowered ravine, that separated the grounds
of the Alhambra from those of the Generaliffe. The interior-
of the tower was divided into small fairy apartments, beauti
fully ornamented in the light Arabian style, surrounding a
lofty hall, the vaulted roof of which rose almost to the summit
of the tower. The walls and ceiling of the hall were adorned
with arabesques and fret-work sparkling with gold, and with
brilliant pencilling. In the centre of the marble pavement,
was an alabaster fountain, set round with aromatic shrubs
and flowers, and throwing up a jet of water that cooled the
whole edifice and had a lulling sound. Round the hall were
suspended cages of gold and silver wire, containing singing
birds of the finest plumage or sweetest note.
The princesses having been represented as always cheerful
when in the castle of Salobrefia, the king had expected to
see them enraptured with the Alhambra. To his surprise,
however, they began to pine, and grew green and melancholy,
and dissatisfied with every thing around them. The flowers
yielded them no fragrance; the song of the nightingale dis
turbed their night's rest, and they were out of all patience
with the alabaster fountain, with its eternal drop, drop, and
splash, splash, from morning till night, and from night till
morning.
The king, who was somewhat of a testy, tyrannical old man,
took this at first in high dudgeon; but he reflected that his
daughters had arrived at an age when the female mind
expands and its desires augment. "They are no longer
children," said he to himself; "they are women grown, and
require suitable objects to interest them." He put in requisi
tion, therefore, all the dress makers, and the jewellers, and
the artificers in gold and silver throughout the Zacatin of
Granada, and the princesses were overwhelmed with robes
98 THK ALHAMBRA.
of silk, and of tissue and of brocade, and cachemire shawls,
aaid necklaces of pearls, and diamonds, and rings, and brace
lets, and anklets, and all manner of precious things.
All, however, was of no avail. The princesses continued
pale and languid in the midst of their finery, and looked like
tliroe blighted rose buds, drooping from one stalk. The king
was at his wit's end. He had in general a laudable confidence
in his own judgment, and never took advice. "The whims
and caprices of three marriageable damsels, however, are
sufficient," said he, "to puzzle the shrewdest head." So, for
once in his life, he called in the aid of counsel.
The person to whom he applied was the experienced duenna.
" Cadiga," said the king, " I know you to be one of the most
discreet women in the whole world, as well as one of the most
trustworthy; for these reasons, I have always continued you
about the persons of my daughters. Fathers cannot be too
wary in whom they repose such confidence. I now wish you
to find out the secret malady that is preying upon the prin
cesses, and to devise some means of restoring them to health
and cheerfulness."
Cadiga promised implicit obedience. In fact, she knew
more of the malady of the princesses than they did them
selves. Shutting herself up with them, however, she endea
voured to insinuate herself into their confidence.
"My dear children, what is the reason you are so dismal
and downcast, in so beautiful a place, where you have every
thing that heart can wish?"
The princesses looked vacantly round the apartment, and
sighed.
"What more, then, would you have? Shall I get you the
i/onderful parrot that talks all languages, and is the delight of
'iranada?"
' ' Odious ! ' ' exclaimed the princess Zayda. ' ' A horrid scream
ing bird that chatters words without ideas! One must be
without brains to tolerate such a pest."
"Shall I send for a monkey from the rock of Gibraltar, to
divert you with his antics?"
"A monkey! faugh 1" cried Zorayda, "the detestable mimic
of man. I hate the nauseous animal."
"What say you to the famous black singer, Casern, from
the royal harem in Morocco. They say he has a voice as fine
as a woman's."
"I am terrified at the sight of these black slaves." said the
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 99
delicate Zorahayda; "besides, I have lost all relish for
music."
"Ah, my child, you would not say so," replied the old
woman, slyly, "had you heard the music I heard last even
ing, from the three Spanish cavaliers whom we met on our
journey. But bless me, children! what is the matter that
you blush so, and are in such a flutter ?"
"Nothing, nothing, good mother, pray proceed."
"Well as I was passing by the Vermilion towers, last
evening, I saw the three cavaliers resting after their day's
labour. One was playing on the guitar so gracefully, and
the others sang by turns and they did it in such style, that
the very guards seemed like statues or men enchanted. Allah
forgive me, I could not help being moved at hearing the songs
of my native country. And then to see three such noble and
handsome yoviths in chains and slavery."
Here the kind-hearted old woman could not restrain her tears.
" Perhaps, mother, you could manage to procure us a sight
of these cavaliers," said Zayda.
"I think," said Zorayda, "a little music would be quite
reviving."
The timid Zorahayda said nothing, but threw her arms
round the neck of Cadiga.
"Mercy on me!" exclaimed the discreet old woman; "what
are you talking of, my children ? Your father would be the
death of us all, if he heard of such a thing. To be sure, these
cavaliers are evidently well-bred and high-minded youths but
what of that ! they are the enemies of our faith, and you must
not even think of them, but with abhorrence."
There is an admirable intrepidity in the female will, particu
larly about the marriageable age, which is not to be deterred
by dangers and prohibitions. The princesses hung round their
old duenna, and coaxed and entreated, and declared that a re
fusal would break their hearts. What could she do? She was
certainly the most discreet old woman in the whole world, and
one of the most faithful servants to the king but was she to
see three beautiful princesses break their hearts for the mere
tinkling of a guitar? Beside, though she had been so long
among the Moors, and changed her faith, in imitation of her
mistress, like a trusty follower, yet she was a Spaniard born,
and had the lingerings of Christianity in her heart. So she set
about to contrive how the wishes of the princesses might be
graufied.
] TllK
The Christian captives confined in the Vermilion towers,
were under the charge of a big-whiskered, broad-shouldered
renegado, called Hussein Baba, who was reported to have a
most itching palm. She went to him, privately, and slipping
a broad piece of gold into his hand, " Hussein Baba," said she,
"my mistresses, the three princesses, who are shut up in the
.tower, and in sad want of amusement, have heard of the musi
cal talents of the three Spanish cavaliers, and are desirous of
hearing a specimen of their skill. I am sure you are too kind-
hearted to refuse them so innocent a gratification."
" What, and to have my head set grinning over the gate of
my own tower for that would be the reward, if the king
should discover it."
"No danger of any thing of the kind; the affair may be
managed so that the whim of the princesses may be gratified,
and their father be never the wiser. You know the deep ra
vine outside of the walls, that passes immediately below the
tower. Put the three Christians to work there, and at the in
tervals of their labour let them play and sing, as if for their
own recreation. In this way, the princesses will be able to hear
them from the windows of the tower, and you may be sure of
their paying well for your compliance."
As the good old woman concluded her harangue, she kindly
pressed the rough hand of the renegado, and left within it an
other piece of gold.
Her eloquence was irresistible. The very next day the three
cavaliers were put to work in the ravine. During the noon
tide heat when their fellow labourer were sleeping in the
shade, and the guard nodded drowsily at his post, they seated
themselves among the herbage at the foot of the tower, and
sang a Spanish roundelay to the accompaniment of the guitar.
The glen was deep, the tower was high, but their voices rose
distinctly in the stillness of the summer noon. The princesses
listened from their balcony ; they had been taught the Spanish
language by their duenna, and were moved by the tenderness
of the song.
The discreet Cadiga, on the contrary, was terribly shocked.
" Allah preserve us," cried she, "they are singing a love ditty
addressed to yourselves, did ever mortal hear of such audac
ity? I will run to the slave master and have them soundly
bastinadoed."
" What, bastinado such gallant cavaliers, and for singing so
Charmingly?" The three beautiful princesses were filled with
LEGEND OF THE THREE UK A UTTFUL PRINCESSES. 101
horror at the idea. With all her virtuous indignation, the good
old woman was of a placable nature and onsily appeased. Be
side, the music seemed to have a 'bwiie&cialv effect 'Upon her
young mistresses. A rosy bloom had .already, corno . to their
cheeks, and their eyes began to sparkle.' . -She mad.e-.KO' further
objection, therefore, to the amorous ditty of the cavaliers.
When it was finished, the princesses remained silent for a
time; at length Zorayda took up a lute, and with a sweet,
though faint and trembling voice, warbled a little Arabian air,
the burden of which was, "The rose is concealed among her
leaves, but she listens with delight to the song of the nightin
gale."
From this time forward the cavaliers worked almost daily in
the ravine. The considerate Hussein Baba became more and
more indulgent, and daily more prone to sleep at his post.
For some time a vague intercourse was kept up by popular
songs and romances ; which in some measure responded to each
other, and breathed the feelings of the parties. By degrees
the princesses showed themselves at the balcony, when thc^
could do so without being perceived by the guards. They con
versed with the cavaliers also by means of flowers, with the
.symbolical language of which they were mutually acquainted :
the difficulties of their intercourse added to its charms, and
strengthened the passion they had so singularly conceived ; for
love delights to struggle with difficulties, and thrives the most
hardily on the scantiest soil.
The change effected in the looks and spirits of the princesses
by this secret intercourse, surprised and gratified the left-
handed king; but no one was more elated than the discreet
Cadiga, who considered it all owing to her able manage
ment.
At length there was an interruption in this telegraphic cor
respondence, for several days the cavaliers ceased to make
their appearance in the glen. The three beautiful princesses
looked out from the tower in vain. In vain they stretched
their swan -like necks from the balcony; in vain they sang like
captive nightingales in their cage ; nothing was to be seen of
their Christian lovers, not a note responded from the groves.
The discreet Cadiga sallied forth in quest of intelligence, and
soon returned with a face full of trouble. " Ah, my children !"
cried she, ' ' I saw what all this would come to, but you woul 1
have your way; you may now hang up your lutes on the v.- : -.
lows. The Spanish cavaliers are ransomed by their families;
102 THE ALHAMBRA.
they arc down in Granada, and preparing to return to their
natives country v " .
The three beaUtiM" princesses were in despair at the tidings
Th? air Zayda was indignant at the slight put upon them, ic
' thus dese'rted vfithdut a parting word. Zoraydu rung hei
hands and cried, and looked in the glass, and wiped away her
teal's, and cried afresh. The gentle Zorahayda leaned over tha
balcony, and wept in silence, and her tears fell drop by drop,
among the flowers of the bank where the faithless cavaliers
had so often been seated.
The discreet Cadiga did all in her power to soothe their sor
row. " Take comfort, my children," said she, " this is nothing
when you are used to it. This is the way of the world. Ah,
when you are as old as I am, you will know how to value these
men. I'll warrant these cavaliers have their loves among the
Spanish beauties of Cordova and Seville, and will soon be sere
nading under their balconies, and thinking no more of the
Moorish beauties in the Alhambra. Take comfort, therefore,
my children, and drive them from your hearts."
The comforting words of the discreet Cadiga only redoubled
the distress of the princesses, and for two days they continued
inconsolable. On the morning of the third, the good old woman
entered their apartment all ruffling with indignation.
"Who would have believed such insolence in mortal man?"
exclaimed she, as soon as she could find words to express her
self; "but I am rightly served for having connived at this de
ception of your worthy father never talk more to me of your
Spanish cavaliers."
"Why, what has happened, good Cadiga?" exclaimed the
princesses, in breathless anxiety.
"What has happened? treason has happened! or what is
almost as bad, treason has been proposed and to me the
( aithfulest of subjects the trustiest ot iuennas yes, my chil
drenthe Spanish cavaliers have dared to tamper with me;
that I should persuade you to fly with them to Cordova, and
become their wives."
Hero the excellent old woman covered her face with hei
hands, and gave way to a violent burst of grief and indigna
tion.
The three beautiful princesses turned pale and red. and trem
bled, and looked down ; and cast shy looks at each other, but
said nothing: meantime, the old woman sat rocking backward
and forward in violent agitation, and now and then breaking
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 103
out into exclamations-- "That ever I should live to be so in
sulted I, the faithfulest of servants !"
At length the eldest princess, who had most spirit, and always
took the lead, approached her, and /aying her hand upon her
shoulder "Well, mother," said she, "supposing we were will
ing to fly with these Christian cavaliers is such a thing pos-
sible?"
The good old woman paused suddenly in her grief, and look
ing up "Possible!" echoed she, "to be sure it is possible.
Have not the cavaliers already bribed Hussein Baba, the rene-
gado captain of the guard, and arranged the whole plan? But
then to think of deceiving your father your father, who haa
placed such confidence in me?"
Here the worthy old woman gave way to a fresh burst of
grief, and began again to rock backwards and forwards, and to
wring her hands.
"But our father has never placed any confidence in us," said
the eldest princess; "but has trusted to bolts and bars, an<?
treated us as captives."
"Why, that is true enough," replied the old woman, again
pausing in her grief "He has indeed treated you most unrea
sonably. Keeping you shut up here to waste your bloom in a
moping old tower, like roses left to wither in a flower jar. But
then to fly from your native land."
' 'And is not the land we fly to, the native land of our mother :
where we shall live in freedom ? and shall we not each have
youthful husband in exchange for a severe old father?"
"Why, that again is all very true and your father, I must
confess, is rather tyrannical. But what then" relapsing into
her grief "would you leave me behind to bear the brunt of
his vengeance?"
"By no means, my good Cadiga. Cannot you fly with us?"
"Very true, my child, and to tell the truth, when 1 talked
the matter over with Hussein Baba, he promised to take care
of me if I would accompany you in your flight : but then, be
think you, my children ; are you willing to renounce the faith
of your father?"
"The Christian faith was the original faith of our mother,'
said the eldest princess ; "I am ready to embrace it ; and so 1
am sure are my sisters."
"Right again!" exclaimed the old woman, brightening up.
"It was the original faith of your mother; and bitterly did she
lament, on her death-bed, that she had renounced it. I pron>
104 THE ALHAMBRA.
Ised her then to take care of your souls, and I am rejoiced to
see that they are now in a fair way to be saved. Yes, my chil
dren; I too was born a Christian and have always been a
Christian in my heart; and am resolved to return to the faith.
I have talked on the subject with Hussein Baba, who is a Span
iard by birth, and comes from a place not far from my native
town. He is equally anxious to see his own country and to be
reconciled to the church, and the cavaliers have promised that
if we are disposed to become man and wife on returning to our
native land, they will provide for uo handsomely."
In a word, it appeared that this extremely discreet and provi
dent old woman had consulted with the cavaliers and the rene-
gado, and had concerted the whole plan of escape. The eldest
princess immediately assented to it, and her example as usual
determined the conduct of her sisters. It is true, the youngest
hesitated, for she was gentle and timid of soul, and there was
a struggle in her bosom between filial feeling and youthful
passion. The latter however, as usual, gained the victory, and
with silent tears and stifled sighs she prepared herself for
flight.
The rugged hill on which the Alhambra is built was in old
times perforated with subterranean passages, cut through the
rock, and leading from the fortress to various parts of the city,
and to distant sally-ports on the banks of the Darro and the
Xenil. They had been constructed at different times, by the
Moorish kings, as means of escape from sudden insurrection, or
of secretly issuing forth on private enterprises. Many of them
are now entirely lost, while others remain, partly choked up
with rubbish, and partly walled up monuments of the jealous
precautions and warlike stratagems of the Moorish government.
By one of these passages, Hussein Baba had undertaken to
conduct the princesses to a sally-port beyond the walls of the
city, where the cavaliers were to be ready with fleet steeds to
bear them all over the borders.
The appointed night arrived. The tower of the princesses
had been locked up as usual, and the Alhambra was buried in
deep sleep. Towards midnight the discreet Cadiga listened
from a balcony of a window that looked into the garden,
Hussein Baba, the renegade, was already below, and gave the
appointed signal. The duenna fastened the end of a ladder of
ropes to the balcony, lowered it into the garden, and descended.
The two eldest princesses f oDowed her with beating hearts ; but
when it came to the turn of the youngest princess, Zorahayda,
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 1Q5
she hesitated and trembled. Several times she ventured a deli
cate little foot upon the ladder, and as often drew it back;
while her poor little heart fluttered more and more the longer
she delayed. She cast a wistful look back into the silken cham
ber ; she had lived in it, to be sure, like a bird in a cage, but
within it she was secure who could not tell what dangers
might beset her should she flutter forth into the wide world \
Now she bethought her of her gallant Christian lover, and her
little foot was instantly upon the ladder, and anon she thought
of her father, and shrunk back. But fruitless is the attempt to
describe the conflict in the bosom of one so young, and tender,
and loving, but so timid and so ignorant of the world. In vain
her sisters implored, the duenna scolded, and the renegado
blasphemed beneath the balcony. The gentle little Moorish
maid stood doubting and wavering on the verge of elopement ;
tempted by the sweetness of the sin, but terrified at its perils.
Every moment increased the danger of discovery. A distant
tramp was heard. "The patrols are walking the rounds," cried
the renegado; "if we linger longer we perish princess, de
scend instantly, or we leave you. "
Zorahayda was for a moment in fearful agitation, then loos
ening the ladder of ropes, with desperate resolution she flung
it from the balcony.
"It is decided, " cried she, "flight is now out of my power 1
Allah guide and bless ye, my dear sisters 1"
The two eldest princesses were shocked at the thoughts of
leaving her behind, and would fain have lingered, but the
patrol was advancing; the renegado was furious, and they
were hurried away to the subterraneous passage. They groped
their way through a fearful labyrinth cut through the heart of
the mountain, and succeeded in reaching, undiscovered, an
iron gate that opened outside of the walls. The Spanish cav
aliers were waiting to receive them, disguised as Moorish sol
diers of the guard commanded by the renegado.
The lover of Zorahayda was frantic when he learned that she
had refused to leave the tower ; but there was no time to waste
in lamentations. The two princesses were placed behind their
lovers ; the discreet Cadiga mounted behind the renegado, and
all set off at a round pace in the direction of the pass of Lope,
which leads through the mountains towards Cordova.
They had not proceeded far when they heard the noise of
drums and trumpets from the battlements of the Alhambra.
u Our flight is discovered," said the renegado. "We have fleet
106 THE ALHAMBRA.
steeds, the night is dark, and we may distance all pursuit, 1
replied the cavaliers.
They put spurs to their horses and scoured across the Vega.
They attained to the foot of the mountain of Elvira, which
stretches like a promontory into the plain. The renegado
paused and listened. "As yet," said he, " there is no one on
our traces, we shall make good our escape to the mountains. 1 '
While he spoke a ball of fire sprang up in a light blaze on the
top of the watch-tower of the Alhambra.
" Confusion!" cried the renegado, "that fire will put all the
guards of the passes on the alert. Away, away, spur like mad ;
there is no time to be lost. "
Away they dashed the clattering of their horses' hoofs
echoed from rock to rock as they swept along the road that
skirts the rocky mountain of Elvira. As they galloped on,
they beheld that the ball of fire of the Alhambra was answered
in every direction; light after light blazed on the atalayas or
watch-towers of the mountains.
"Forward! forward!" cried the renegado, with many an
oath "to the bridge! to the bridge! before the alarm has
reached there."
They doubled the promontory of the mountain, and arrived
in sight of the famous Puente del Pinos, that crosses a rushing
stream often dyed with Christian and Moslem blood. To their
confusion the tower on the bridge blazed with lights and glit
tered with armed men. The renegado pulled up his steed, rose
in his stirrups and looked about him for a moment, then beck
oning to the cavaliers he struck off from the road, skirted the
river for some distance, and dashed into its waters. The cav
aliers called upon the princesses to cling to them, and did the
same. They were borne for some distance down the rapid
current, the surges roared round them, but the beautiful prin
cesses clung to their Christian knights and never uttered a
complaint. The cavaliers attained the opposite bank in safety,
and were conducted by the renegado, by rude and unfre
quented paths, and wild barrancos through the heart of the
mountains, so as to avoid all the regular passes. In a word,
they succeeded in reaching the ancient city of Cordova ; when
their restoration to their country and friends was celebrated
with great rejoicings, for they were of the noblest families.
The beautiful princesses were forthwith received into the
bosom of the church, and after being in all due form made
regular Christians, were rendered happy lovers.
LEGEND OF THE THREE BEAUTIFUL PRINCESSES. 107
In our hurry to make good the escape of the princesses
across the river and up the mountains, we forgot to mention
the fate of the discreet Cadiga. She had clung like a cat to
Hussein Baba, in the scamper across the Vega, screaming at
every bound and drawing many an oath from the whiskered
renegade ; but when he prepared to plunge his steed into the
river her terror knew no bounds.
"Grasp me not so tightly, "cried Hussein Baba; "hold on by
my belt, and fear nothing."
She held firmly with both hands by the leathern belt that
girded the broad-backed renegado ; but when he halted with
the cavaliers to take breath on the mountain summit, the
duenna was no longer to be seen.
"What has become of Cadiga?" cried the princesses in
alarm.
"I know not," replied the renegado. "My belt came loose
in the midst of the river, and Cadiga was swept with it down
the stream. The will of Allah be done! but it was an em
broidered belt and of great price !"
There was no time to waste in idle reports, yet bitterly did
the princesses bewail the loss of their faithful and .discreet
counsellor. That excellent old woman, however, did not lose
more than half of her nine lives in the stream. A fisherman
who was drawing his nets some distance down the stream,
brought her to land and was not a little astonished at his
miraculous draught. What farther became of the discreet
Cadiga, the legend does not mention. Certain it is, that she
evinced her discretion in never venturing within the reach of
Mohamed the left-handed.
Almost as little is known of the conduct of that sagacious
monarch, when he discovered the escape of his daughters and
the deceit practised upon him by the most faithful of servants.
It was the only instance in which he had called in the aid of
counsel, and he was never afterwards known to be guilty of a
similar weakness. He took good care, however, to guard his
remaining daughter; who had no disposition to elope. It is
thought, indeed, that she secretly repented having remained
behind. Now and then she was seen leaning on the battle
ments of the tower and looking mournfully towards the moun
tains, in the direction of Cordova ; and sometimes the notes of
ier lute were heard accompanying plaintive ditties, in which
she was said to lament the loss of her sisters and her lover, and
to bewail her solitary life. She died young, and, according to
108 THE ALHAMBRA.
popular rumour, was buried in a vault beneath the tower, and
her untimely fate has given rise to more than one traditionary
fable.
LOCAL TRADITIONS.
THE common people of Spain have an oriental passion foi
story -telling and are fond of the marvellous. They will gather
round the doors of their cottages on summer evenings, or in
the great cavernous chimney corners of their ventas in the
winter, and listen with insatiable delight to miraculous legends
of saints, perilous adventures of travellers, and daring exploits
of robbers and contrabandistas. The wild and solitary natur
of a great part of Spain; the imperfect state of knowledge;
the scantiness of general topics of conversation, and the ro
mantic, adventurous life that every one leads hi a land where
travelling is yet in its primitive state, all contribute to cherish
this love of oral narration, and to produce a strong expression
of the extravagant and wonderful. There is no theme, how
ever, more prevalent or popular than that of treasures buried
by the Moors. It pervades the whole country. In traversing
the wild Sierras, the scenes of ancient prey and exploit, you
cannot see a Moorish atalaya or watch-tower perched among
the cliffs, or beetling above its rock-built village, but your
muleteer, on being closely questioned, will suspend the smok
ing of his cigarillo to tell some tale of Moslem gold buried be
neath its foundations ; nor is there a ruined alcazar in a city,
but has its golden tradition, handed down, from generation to
generation, among the poor people of the neighbourhood.
These, like most popular fictions, have had some ground
work in fact. During the wars between Moor and Christian,
which distracted the country for centuries, towns and castles
were liable frequently and suddenly to change owners ; and the
inhabitants, during sieges and assaults, were fain to bury their
money and jewels in the earth, or hide them in vaults and wells,
as is often done at the present day in the despotic and belliger
ent countries of the East. At the time of the expulsion of the
Moors, also, many of them concealed their most precious
offsets, hoping that their exile would be but temporary, and
that they would be enabled to return and retrieve their treas
ures at some future day. It is certain that, from time to
time, hoards of gold and silver coin have been accidentally
digged up, after a lapse of centuries, from among the ruins
LEGEND OF THE MOORb LEGAOf 109
of Moorish fortresses and habitations, and it requires but a
few facts of the kind to give birth to a thousand fictions.
The stories thus originating have generally something of an
oriental tinge, and are marked with that mixture of the Arabic
and Gothic which seems to me to characterize everything in
Spain ; and especially in its southern provinces. The hidden
wealth is always laid under magic spell, and secured by charm
and talisman. Sometimes it is guarded by uncouth monsters,
or fiery dragons ; sometimes by enchanted Moors, who sit by it
in armour, with drawn swords, but motionless as statues,
maintaining a sleepless watch for ages.
The Alhambra, of course, from the peculiar circumstances of
its history, is a strong hold for popular fictions of the kind,
and curious reliques, dug up from time to tune, have contrib
uted to strengthen them. At one tune, an earthen vessel was
found, containing Moorish coins and the skeleton of a cock,
which, according to the opinion of shrewd inspectors, must
tave been buried alive. At another time, a vessel was digged
up, containing a great scarabseus, or beetle, of baked clay, cov
ered with Arabic inscriptions, which was pronounced a pro
digious amulet of occult virtues. In this way the wits of the
ragged brood who inhabit the Alhambra have been set wool
gathering, until there is not a hall, or tower, or vault, of the
old fortress that has not been made the scene of some marvel
lous tradition.
I have already given brief notices of some related to me by
the authentic Mateo Ximenes, and now subjoin one wrought
out from various particulars gathered among the gossips of the
fortress.
LEGEND OF THE MOOE'S LEGACY.
JUBT within the fortress of IJie Alhambra, in front of the
royal palace, is a broad open esplanade, called the place or
square of the cisterns, (la, plaza de los algibes,) so called from
being undermined by reservoirs of water, hidden from sight,
&nd which have existed from the time of the Moors. At one
corner of this esplanade is a Moorish well, cut through the liv
ing rock to a great depth, the water of which is cold as ice and
clear as crystal. The wells made by the Moors are always in
110 TEE ALHAMBRA.
repute, for it is well known what pains they took to penetratt
to the purest and sweetest springs and fountains. The one we
are speaking of is famous throughout Granada, insomuch that
the water-carriers, some bearing great water-jars on thcil
shoulders, others driving asses before them, laden with earthen
vessels, are ascending and descending the steep woody avenues
of the Alhambra from early dawn until a late hour of the night.
Fountains and wells, ever since the scriptural days, have
been noted gossiping places in hot climates, and at the well in
question there is a kind of perpetual club kept up during the
live-long day, by the invalids, old women, and other curious,
do-nothing folk of the fortress, who sit here on the stone
benches under an awning spread over the well to shelter the
toll-gatherer from the sun, and dawdle over tho gossip of the
fortress, and question any water-carrier that arrives about the
news of the city, and make loag comments on everything they
aear and see. Not an hour of tne day but loitering housewives
and idle maid-servants may oe seen, lingering with pitcher on
head or in hand, to hear the Aast of the endless tattle of these
worthies.
Among the water-carriers who once resorted to this well
there was a sturdy, strong-backed, bandy-legged little fellow,
named Pedro Gil, but called Peregil for shortness. Being a
water-carrier, he was a Gallego, or native of Gallicia, of
course. Nature seems to have formed races of men as she has
of animals for different kinds of drudgery. In France the shoe
blacks are all Savoyards, the porters of hotels all Swiss, and in
the days of hoops and hair powder in England, no man could
give the regular swing to a sedan chair, but a bog-trotting
Irishman. So in Spain the carriers of water and bearers of
burdens are all sturdy little natives of Galhcia. No man says,
" get me a porter," but, " call a Gallego."
To return from this digression. Peregil the Gallego had
begun business with merely a great earthen jar, which he car
ried upon his shoulder ; by degrees he rose in the world, and
was enabled to purchase an assistant of a correspondent class
of animals, being a stout shaggy-haired donkey. On each side
of this his long-eared aid-de-camp, in a kind of pannier, were
slung his water-jars covered with fig leaves to protect them from
the sun. There was not a more industrious water-carrier in all
Granada, nor one more merry withal. The streets rang with his
cheerful voice as he trudgea after his donkey, singing forth the
usual summer note that resounds through the Spanish towns;
LEGEND OF THE MOOS' if ZEGACY. Ill
" quien quiere agua agua mas fria que la nieve. Who wants
water water colder than snow who wants water from the
well of the Alhambra cold as ice and clear as crystal ? " When
he served a customer with a sparkling glass, it was always
with a pleasant word that caused a smile, and if, perchance, it
was a comely dame, or dimpling damsel, it was always with a
sly leer and a compliment to her beauty that was irresistible.
Thus Peregil the Gallego was noted throughout all Granada for
being one of the civilest, pleasantest, and happiest of mortals.
Yet it is not he who sings loudest and jokes most that has the
lightest heart. Under all this air of merriment, honest Peregil
had his cares and troubles. He had a large family of ragged
children to support, who were hungry and clamorous as a
nest of young swallows, and beset him with their outcries for
food whenever he came home of an evening. He had a help
mate too who was anything but a help to him. She had been
a village beauty before marriage, noted for her skill in dancing
the bolero and rattling the castanets, and she still retained her
early propensities, spending the hard earnings of honest Pere
gil in frippery, and laying the very donkey under requisition
for junketing parties into the country on Sundays, and saints'
days, and those innumerable holydays which are rather more
numerous in Spain than the days of the week. With all this
she was a little of a slattern, something more of a lie-a-bed,
and, above all, a gossip of the first water ; neglecting house,
household and everything else, to loiter slip-shod in the houses
of her gossip neighbours.
He, however, who tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,
accommodates the yoke of matrimony to the submissive neck.
Peregil bore all the heavy dispensations of wife and children
with as meek a spirit as his donkey bore the water-jars ; and,
however he might shake his ears in private, never ventured to
question the household virtues of his slattern spouse.
He loved his children too, even as an owl loves its owlets,
seeing in them his own image multiplied and perpetuated, for
they were a sturdy, long-backed, bandy-legged little brood.
The great pleasure of honest Peregil was, whenever he could
afford himself a scanty holyday and had a handful of marave-
dies to spare, to take the whole litter forth with him, some in
his arms, some tugging at his skirts, and some trudging at his
heels, and to treat them to a gambol among the orchards of the
Vega, while his wife was dancing with her holyday friends in
the Angosturas of the Darro.
THE AL1IAMB3A.
It was a late hour one summer night, and most of the water
carriers had desisted from their toils. The day had been ua
commonly sultry; the night was one of those delicious moon
lights, which tempt the inhabitants of those southern climes to
indemnify themselves for the heat and inaction of the day, by
lingering in the open air and enjoying its tempered sweetness
Until after midnight. Customers for water were therefore
still abroad. Peregil, like a considerate, painstaking little
father, thought of his hungry children. "One more journey
to the well," said he to himself, "to earn a good Sunday's
puchcro for the little ones." So saying, he trudged rapidly up
the steep avenue of the Alhambra, singing as he went, and
now and then bestowing a hearty thwack with a cudgel on
the flanks of his donkey, either by way of cadence to the song,
or refreshment to the animal ; for dry blows serve in lieu for
provender hi Spain, for all beasts of burden.
When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by every one
except a solitary stranger in Moorish garb, seated on the stone
bench in the moonlight. Peregil paused at first, and regarded
him with surprise, not unmixed with awe, but the Moor feebly
beckoned him to approach.
"I am faint and ill," said he; "aid me to return to the city,
and I will pay thee double what thou couldst gain by thy jars
of water."
The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched with
compassion at the appeal of the stranger. "God forbid," said
he, " that I should ask fee or reward for doing a common act
of humanity."
He accordingly helped the Moor on his donkey, and set off
slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem being so weak that it
was necessary to hold him on the animal to keep him from
falling to the earth.
When they entered the city, the water-carrier demanded
whither he should conduct him. "Alas!" said the Moor,
faintly, " I have neither home nor habitation. I am a stranger
in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this night beneath thy
roof, and thou shall be amply repaid. "
Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled with
an infidel guest, but he was too humane to refuse a night'a
shelter to a fellow being in so forlorn a plight ; so he conducted
the Moor to his dwelling. The children, who had sallied forth,
open-mouthed as usual, on hearing the tramp of the donkey,
Tan back with affright; when they beheld the turbaned
LEGEND OF THE MOOR'S LEGACY.
Stranger, and hid themselves behind their mother. The lattei
stepped forth intrepidly, like a ruffling hen before her brood,
when a vagrant dog approaches.
"What infidel companion," cried she, "is this you have
brought home at this late hour, to draw upon us the eyes of
the Inquisition?"
"Be quiet, wife," replied the Gallego, "here is a poor sick
stranger, without friend or home: wouldst thou turn him forth
to perish in the streets?"
The wife would still have remonstrated, for, though she
lived in a hovel, she was a furious stickler for the credit of her
house; the little water-carrier, however, for once was stiff-
necked, and refused to bend beneath the yoke. He assisted
the poor Moslem to alight, and spread a mat and a sheepskin
for him, on the ground, in the coolest part of the house ; being
the only kind of bed that his poverty afforded.
In a little while the Moor was seized with violent convul
sions, which defied all the ministering skill of the simple
water-carrier. The eye of the poor patient acknowledged his
kindness. During an interval of his fits he called him to his
bide, and addressing him in alow voice; "My end," said he.
"I fear is at hand. If I die I bequeath you this box as a re
ward for your charity." So saying, he opened his albornoz, or
cloak, and showed a small box of sandal wood, strapped round
his body.
"God grant, my friend," replied the worthy little Gallego,
" that you may live many years to enjoy your treasure, what
ever it may be."
The Moor shook his head ; he laid his hand upon the box,
and would have said something more concerning it, but his
convulsions returned with increased violence, and in a little
Trtnle he expired.
Ths water-carrier's wife was now as one distracted. " This
comes," said she, "of your foolish good nature, always run
ning into scrapes to oblige others. Wkat will become of us
when this corpse is found in our house? We shall be sent to
prison as murderers ; and if we escape with our li ves, shall be
ruined by notaries and alguazils. " o^\^&-^JL\
Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost repented
himself of having done a good deed. At length a thought
struck him. " It is not yet day," said he. "I can convey the
dead body out of the city and bury it in the sands on the banks
of the Xenil. No one saw the Moor enter our dwelling, and no
114 TEE ALHAMBRA.
one will know any thing of his death." So said, so done. Th
wife aided him : they rolled the body of the unfortunate Mos
lem in the mat on which he had expired, laid it across the ass,
and Mattias set out with it for the banks of the river.
As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the water-
carrier a barber, named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of the most
prying, tattling, mischief -making, of his gossip tribe. He was
a weasel-faced, spider-legged varlet, supple and insinuating;
the famous Barber of Seville could not surpass him for his uni
versal knowledge of the affairs of others, and he had no more
power of retention than a sieve. It was said that he slept with
but one eye at a time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that,
even in his sleep, he might see and hear all that was going on.
Certain it is, he was a sort of scandalous chronicle for the
quidnuncs of Granada, and had more customers than all the
rest of his fraternity.
This meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an unusual
hour of night, and the exclamations of his wife and children.
His head was instantly popped out of a little window which
served him as a lookout, and he saw his neighbour assist a man
in a Moorish garb into his dwelling. This was so strange an
occurrence that Pedrillo Pedrugo slept not a wink that night
every five minutes he was at his loop-hole, watching the lights
that gleamed through the chinks of his neighbour's door, and
before daylight he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donkey
unusually laden.
The inquisitive barber was in a fidget; he slipped on his
clothes, and, stealing forth silently, followed the water-carrier
at a distance, until he saw him dig a hole in the sandy bank
of the Xenil, and bury something that had the appearance of
a dead body.
The barber hied him home and fidgeted about his shop, set
ting everything upside down, until sunrise. He then took a
basin under his arm, and sallied forth to the house of his daily
customer, the Alcalde.
The Alcalde was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated him in
a chair, threw a napkin round his neck, put a basin of hot
water under his chin, and began to mollify his beard with his
fingers.
"Strange doings," said Pedrugo, who played barber and
newsmonger at the same time. "Strange doings! Robbery,
and murder, and burial, all in one night !"
" Hey? how! What is it you soy?" cried tlie Alcalde.
LEQhND OF TEE MOOR'S LEGACY.
"I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap over the
nose and mouth of the dignitary, for a Spanish barber disdains
to employ a brush; "I say that Peregil the Gallego has robbed
and murdered a Moorish Mussulman, and buried him this
blessed night, maldita sea la noche, accursed be the night
for the same !"
"But how do you know all this?" demanded the Alcalde.
" Be patient, Sefior, and you shall hear all about it," replied
Pedrillo, taking him by the nose and sliding a razor over his
cheek. He then recounted all that he had seen, going through
both operations at the same time, shaving his beard, washing
his chin, and wiping him dry with a dirty napkin, while he
was robbing, murdering, and burying the Moslem.
Now it so happened that this Alcalde was one of the most
overbearing, and at the same time most griping and corrupt
curmudgeons in all Granada. It could not be denied, however,
that he set a high value upon justice, for he sold it at its weight
in gold. He presumed the case in point to be one of murder
and robbery ; doubtless there must be rich spoil ; how was it to
be secured into the legitimate hands of the law? for as to
merely entrapping the delinquent that would be feeding the
gallows: but entrapping the booty that would be enriching
the judge ; and such, according to his creed, was the great end
of justice. So thinking, he summoned to his presence his
trustiest alguazil ; a gaunt, hungry-looking varlet, clad, accord
ing to the custom of his order, in the ancient Spanish garb .
broad black beaver, turned up at the sides; a quaint ruff, a
small black cloak dangling from his shoulders; rusty black
under-clothes that set off his spare wiry form; while in his
hand he bore a slender white wand, the dreaded insignia of his
office. Such was the legal bloodhound of the ancient Spanish
breed, that he put upon the traces of the unlucky water-car
rier; and such was his speed and certainty that he was upon
the haunches of poor Peregil before he had returned to his
dwelling, and brought both him and his donkey before the dis
penser of justice.
The Alcalde bent upon him one of his most terrific frowns.
"Hark ye, culprit," roared he in a voice that made the knees
of the little Gallego smite together, " Hark, ye culprit 1 there is
no need of denying thy guilt : everything is known to me. A
gallows is the proper reward for the crime thou hast commit
ted, but I am merciful, and readily listen to reason. The man
that has been murdered in thy house was a Moor, an infidel,
116 THE ALUAMBRA.
the enemy of our faith. It was doubtless in a fit of religioin
zeal that thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore ;
render up the property of which thou hast robbed him, and wo
will hush the matter up."
The poor water-carrier called upon all the saints to witness
his innocence; alas! not one of them appeared, and if there
had, the Alcalde would have disbelieved the whole kalendar.
The water-carrier related the whole story of the dying Moor
with the straightforward simplicity of truth, but it was all in
vain: "Wilt thou persist in saying," demanded the judge,
' that this Moslem had neither gold nor jewels, which were the
object of thy cupidity?"
"As I hope to be saved, your worship," replied the water-
carrier, "he had nothing but a small box of sandal wood, which
ho bequeathed to me in reward of my services."
"A box of sandal wood! a box of sandal wood!" exclaimed
the Alcalde, his eyes sparkling at the idea of precious jewels,
"and where is this box? where have you concealed it?"
"An' it please your grace," replied the water-carrier, "it is
In one of the panniers of my mule, and heartily at the service
of your worship."
He had hardly spoken the words when the keen alguazil
darted off and reappeared in an instant with the mysterious
box of sandal wood. The Alcalde opened it with an eager and
trembling hand ; all pressed forward to gaze upon the treasures
it was expected to contain; when, to their disappointment,
nothing appeared within but a parchment scroll, covered with
Arabic characters, and an end of a waxen taper !
When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction of a
prisoner, justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impartial. The
Alcalde, having recovered from his disappointment and found
there was really no booty in the case, now listened dispassion
ately to the explanation of the water-carrier, which was cor
roborated by the testimony of his wife. Being convinced,
therefore, of his innocence, he discharged him from arrest ; nay
more, he permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, the box
of sandal wood and its contents, as the well-merited reward of
Ms humanity ; but he retained his donkey in payment of cost
and charges.
Behold the unfortunate little Gallego reduced once more to
the necessity of being his own water-carrier, and trudging up
to the well of the Alhambra with a great earthen jar upon his
ihoulder. As he toiled up the hill in the heat of a summer noon
LEGEND OF TSE MOOR'S LEGACY. 117
his usual good-humour forsook him. "Dog of an Alcalde!"
would he cry, "to rob a poor man of the means of his subsist
enceof the best friend he had in the world !" And then, at
the remembrance of the beloved companion of his labours, all
the kindness of his nature would break forth. "Ah, donkey
of my heart !" would he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone,
and wiping the sweat from his brow, "Ah, donkey of my heart!
I warrant me thou thinkest of thy old master! I warrant me
thou missest the water jars poor beast !"
To add to his afflictions his wife received him, on his return
home, with whimperings and repinings; she had clearly the
vantage-ground of him, having warned him not to commit the
egregious act of hospitality that had brought on him all these
misfortunes, and like a knowing woman, she took every occa
sion to throw her superior sagacity in his teeth. If ever her
children lacked food, or needed a new garment, she would an
swer with a sneer, " Go to your father; he's heir to king Chico
of the Alhambra. Ask him to help you out of the Moor's strong
box."
Was ever poor mortal more soundly punished, fw having
done a good action ! The unlucky Peregil was grieved in flesh
and spirit, but still he bore meekly with the railings of his
spouse. At length one evening, when, after a hot day's toil,
she taunted him in the usual manner, he lost all patience. He
did not venture to retort upon her, but his eye rested upon
the box of sandal wood, which lay on a shelf with lid half
open, as if laughing hi mockery of his vexation. Seizing it up
he dashed it with indignation on the floor. "Unlucky was
the day that I ever set eyes on thee," he cried, "or sheltered
thy master beneath my roof."
As the box struck the floor the lid flew wide open, and the
parchment scroll rolled forth. Peregil sat regarding the scroll
for some time in moody silence. At length rallying his ideas,
" Who knows," thought he, "but this writing may be of some
importance, as the Moor seems to have guarded it with such
care." Picking it up, therefore, he put it in his bosom, and
the next morning, as he was crying water through the streets,
he stopped at the shop of a Moor, a native of Tangiers, who
sold trinkets and perfumery in the Zacatin, and asked him to
explain the contents.
The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his beard
and smiled. "This manuscript," said he, "is a form of incan
tation for the recoverv of hidden treasure, that is under the
118 THE! ALHAMBRA.
power of enchantment. It is said to have such virtue that the
strongest bolts and bars, nay the adamantine rock itself will
yield before it."
"Bah! "cried the little Gallego, "what is all that to me? I
am no enchanter, and know nothing of buried treasure." So
saying he shouldered his water- jar, left the scroll in the hands
of the Moor, and trudged forward on his daily rounds.
That evening, however, as he rested himself about twilight
at the well of the Alhambra, he found a number of gossips as
sembled at the place, and their conversation, as is not unusuai
at that shadowy hour, turned upon old tales and traditions of
a supernatural nature. Being all poor as rats, they dwelt with
peculiar fondness upon the popular theme of enchanted riches
left by the Moors in various parts of the Alhambra. Above
all, they concurred in the belief that there were great treasures
buried deep in the earth under the tower of the Seven Floors.
These stories made an unusual impression on the mind of
honest Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper into his
thoughts as he returned alone down the darkling avenues.
' ' If, after all, there should be treasure hid beneath that tower
and if the scroll I left with the Moor should enable me to get
at it !" In the sudden ecstasy of the thought he had well nigh
let fall his water-jar.
That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely get a
wink of sleep for the thoughts that were bewildering his brain.
In the morning, bright and early, he repaired to the shop of
the Moor, and told him all that was passing in his mind.
"You can read Arabic," said he, "suppose we go together to
the tower and try the effect of the charm ; if it fails we are no
worse off than before, but if it succeeds we will share equally
all the treasure we may discover."
"Hold," replied the Moslem, "this writing is not sufficient
of itself; it must be read at midnight, by the light of a taper
singularly compounded and prepared, the ingredients of which
are not within my reach. Without such taper the scroll is of
no avail."
"Say no more!" cried the little Gallego. "I have such a
taper at hand and will bring it here in a moment." So saying
he hastened home, and soon returned with the end of a yellow
wax taper that he had found in the box of sandal wood.
The Moor felt it, and smelt to it. " Here are rare and costly
perfumes," said he, " combined with this yellow wax. This is
the kind of taper specified in the scroll. While this burns, the
LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. H9
strongest walls and most secret caverns will remain open ; woe
to him, however, who lingers within until it be extinguished.
He will remain enchanted with the treasure."
It was now agreed between them to try the charm that very
night. At a late hour, therefore, when nothing was stirring
but bats and owls, they ascended the woody hill of the Alham-
bra, and approached that awful tower, shrouded by trees and
tendered formidable by so many traditionary tales.
By the light of a lantern, they groped their way through
bushes, and over fallen stones, to the door of a vault beneath
the tower. With fear and trembling they descended a flight
of steps cut into the rock. It led to an empty chamber, damp
and drear, from which another flight of steps led to a deeper
vault. In this way they descended four several flights, lead
ing into as many vaults, one below the other, but the floor of
the fourth was solid, and though, according to tradition, there
remained three vaults still below, it was said to be impossible
to penetrate farther, the residue being shut up by strong en
chantment. The air of this vault was damp and chilly, and
had an earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth any rays.
They paused here for a time in breathless suspense, until they
faintly heard the clock of the watch tower strike midnight;
upon this they lit the waxen taper, which diffused an odour
ef myrrh, and frankincense, and storax.
The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had scarce
finished, when there was a noise as of subterraneous thunder.
The earth shook, and the floor yawning open disclosed a flight
of steps. Trembling with awe they descended, and by the
light of the lantern found themselves in another vault, covered
with Arabic inscriptions. In the centre stood a great chest,
secured with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an
enchanted Moor in armour, but motionless as a statue, being
controlled by the power of the incantation. Before the chest
were several jars filled with gold and silver and precious
Stones. In the largest of these they thrust their arms up to
the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth hands-full of broad
yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and ornaments of
the same precious metal, while occasionally a necklace of
oriental pearl would stick to their fingers. Still they trembled
and breathed short while cramming their pockets with the
spoils ; and cast many a fearful glance at the two enchanted
Moors, who sat grim and motionless, glaring upon them with
unwinking eyes. At length, struck with a sudden panic at
120 THE AL11AMBRA.
some fancied noise, they both rushed up the staircase, tumbled
over one another into the upper apartment, overturned and
extinguished the waxen taper, and the pavement again closed
with a thundering sound.
Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had
groped their way out of the tower, and beheld the stars shin
ing through the trees. Then seating themselves upon the\
grass, they divided the spoil, determining to content them 1
selves for the present with this mere skimming of the jars,
but to return on some future night and drain them to the bot
tom. To make sure of each other's good faith, also, they
divided the talismans between them, one retaining the scroll
and the other the taper; this done, they set off with light
hearts and well lined pockets for Granada.
As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd Moor
whispered a word of counsel in the ear of the simple little
water-carrier.
"Friend Peregil," said he, "all this affair must be kept a
profound secret until we have secured the treasure and con
veyed it out of harm's way. If a whisper of it gets to the ear
of the Alcalde we are undone !"
"Certainly!" replied the Gallego; "nothing can be more
tame."
"Friend Peregil," said the Moor, "you are a discreet man,
and I make no doubt can keep a secret; but you have a
wife"
"She shall not know a word of it!" replied the little water-
carrier sturdily.
"Enough," said the Moor, "I depend upon thy discretion
and thy promise."
Never was promise more positive and sincere; but alas!
what man can keep a secret from his wife? Certainly not
such a one as Peregil the water-carrier, who was one of the
most loving and tractable of husbands. On his return home
he found his wife moping in a corner.
" Mighty well !" cried she, as he entered; "you've come at
last; after rambling about until this hour of the night. I
Bonder you have not brought home another Moor as a house
mate." Then bursting into tears she began to wring her
hands and smite her breast. "Unhappy woman that I am!"
exclaimed she, ' ' what will become of me I My house stripped
and plundered by lawyers and alguazils ; my husband a do-no-
good that no longer brings home bread for his family, but
LEGEND OF THE MOORS LEGACY. 121
goes rambling about, day and night, with infidel Moors. Oh,
my children! my children! what will become of us-, we shall
all have tu beg in the streets*."
Honest f eregil was so moved by the distress of his spouse,
that he could not help whimpering also. His heart was as full
as his pocket, and not to be restrained. Thrusting his hand,
into the latter ne hauled forth three or four broad gold pieces
and slipped them into her bosom. The poor woman stared
with astonishment, and could not understand the meaning of
this golden shoiver. Before she could recover her surprise,
the little Gallego drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it
before her, capering with exultation, his mouth distended
from ear to ear.
"Holy Virgin protect us!" exclaimed the wife. "What
hast thou been doing, Peregil? Surely thou hast not been
committing murder and robbery 1"
The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman than it
became a certainty with her. She saw a prison and a gallows
n the distance, and. a little bandy-legged Gallego dangling
pendant from it; and, overcome by the horrors conjured up
by her imagination, fell into violent hysterics.
What could the poor man do? He had no other means of
pacifying his wife and dispelling the phantoms of her fancy,
than by relating the whole story of his good fortune. This,
however, he did not do until he had exacted from her the
most solemn promise to keep it a profound secret from every
living being.
To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung her
arms round the neck of her husband, and almost strangled
him with her caresses. "Now, wife!" exclaimed the little
man with honest exultation, "what say you now to the Moor's
legacy? Henceforth never abuse me for helping a fellow crea
ture in distress."
The honest Gallego retired to his sheepskin mat, and slept as
soundly as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife. She emptied
fche whole contents of his pockets upon the mat, and sat all
night counting gold pieces of Arabic coin, trying on necklaces
and ear-rings, and fancying the figure she should one day
make when permitted to enjoy her riches.
On the following morning the honest Gallego took a broad
golden coin, and repaired with it to a jeweller's shop in the
Zacatin to offer it for sale ; pretending to have found it among
the ruins of the Alhambra.. The jeweller saw that it had an
122 TffB ALHAMBRA.
Arabic inscription and was of the purest gold ; he offered,
however, but a third of its value, with which the water-carrier
was perfectly content. Peregil now bought new clothes for
his little flock, and all kinds of toys, together with ample pro
visions for a hearty meal, and returning to his dwelling set
all his children dancing around him, while he capered in the
midst, the happiest of fathers.
The wife of the water-carrier kept her promise of secrecy
with surprising strictness. For a whole day and a half she
went about with a look of mystery and a heart swelling almost
to bursting, yet she held her peace, though surrounded by her
gossips. It is true she could not help giving herself a few airs,
apologized for her ragged dress, and talked of ordering a new
basquina all trimmed with gold lace and bugles, and a new
lace mantilla. She threw out hints of her husband's intention
of leaving off his trade of water- carrying, as it did not alto
gether agree with bis health. In fact she thought they should
all retire to the country for the summer, that the children
might have the benefit of the mountain air, for there was no
living in the city in this sultry season.
The neighbours stared at each other, and thought the poor
woman had lost her wits, and her airs and graces and
elegant pretensions were the theme of universal scoffing
and merriment among her friends, the moment her back was
turned.
If she restrained herself abroad, however, she indemnified
herself at home, and, putting a string of rich oriental pearls
round her neck, Moorish bracelets on her arms ; an aigrette of
diamonds on her head, sailed backwards and forwards in her
slattern rags about the room, now and then stopping to rdmiro
herself in a piece of broken mirror. Nay, in the impulse of
ler simple vanity, she could not resist on one occasion show-
ng herself at the window, to enjoy the effect of her finery on
the passers by.
As the fates would have it, Pedrillo Pedrugo, the meddle
some barber, was at this moment sitting idly in his shop on
the opposite side of the street, when his ever watchful eye
caught the sparkle of a diamond. In an instant he was at his
loop-hole, reconnoitring the slattern spouse of the water-car
rier, decorated with the splendour of an eastern bride. No
sooner had he taken an accurate inventory of her ornaments
than he posted off with all speed to the Alcalde. In a little
while the hungry alguazil was again on the scent, and befor<
LEGEND OF TEE MOOR'S LEGACY. 123
the day was over, the unfortunate Peregil was again dragged
into the presence of the judge.
"How is this, villain!" cried the Alcalde in a furious voice.
"You told me that the infidel who died in your house left
nothing behind but an empty coffer, and now I hear of your
wife flaunting in her rags decked out with pearls and dia
monds. Wretch, that thou art! prepare to render up the
spoils of thy miserable victim, and to swing on the gallows
that is already tired of waiting for thee."
The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made a full
relation of the marvellous manner in which he had gained his
wealth. The Alcalde, the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber
listened with greedy ears to this Arabian tale of enchanted
treasure. The alguazil was despatched to bring the Moor who
had assisted in the incantation. The Moslem entered half fright
ened out of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the harpies
of the law. When he beheld the water-carrier standing with
sheepish look and downcast countenance, he comprehended
the whole matter. "Miserable animal," said he, as he passed
near him, "did I not warn thee against babbling to thy
wife?"
The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his cok
league ; but the Alcalde affected to be slow of belief , and tkrow
out menaces of imprisonment and rigorous investigation.
"Softly, good Sefior Alcalde," said the Mussulman, who by
this time had recovered his usual shrewdness and self-posses
sion. "Let us not mar fortune's favours in the scramble foi
them. Nobody knows any thing of this matter but ourselves;
let us keep the secret. There is wealth enough in the cave to
enrich us all. Promise a fair division, and all shall be pro-
duced ; refuse, and the cave shall remain for ever closed. "
The Alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The latter was
an old fox in his profession. "Promise any thing," said he,
"untO you get possession of the treasure. You may then seize
upon the whole, and if he and his accomplice dare to murmur,
threaten them with the faggot and the stake as infidels and
sorcerers."
The Alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his brow and
turning to the Moor, "This is a strange story," said he, "and
may be true, but I must have ocular proof of it. This very
night you must repeat the incantation in my presence. If
there be really such treasure, we will share it amicably between
us, and say nothing further of the matter; if ye have deceived
J24 TJ1S ALHAMBRz.
me, expect no mercy at my hands. In the mean time yov.
must remain in custody."
The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to these
conditions, satisfied that the event would prove the truth of
their words.
Towards midnight the Alcalde sallied forth secretly, attended
by the alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all strongly armed
They conducted the Moor and the water-carrier as [prisoners,
and were provided Avith the stout donkey of the latter, to beai
off the expected treasure. They arrived at the tower without
being observed, and tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended
into the fourth vault of the tower.
The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted,
and the Moor read the form of incantation. The earth trembled
as before, and the pavement opened with a thundering sound,
disclosing the narrow flight of steps. The Alcalde, the alguazil,
and the barber were struck aghast, and could not summon
courage to descend. The Moor and the water-carrier entered
the lower vault and found the two Moors seated as before, silent
and motionless. They removed two of the great jars filled with
golden coin and precious stones. The water-carrier bore them
up one by one upon his shoulders, but though a strong,
backed little man, and accustomed to carry burdens, he
staggered beneath their weight, and found, when slung on
each side of his donkey, they were as much as the animal could
bear.
"Let us be content for the present," said the Moor; "here is
as much treasure as we can carry off without being perceived,
and enough to make us all wealthy to our heart's desire."
"Is there more treasure remaining behind?" demanded the
Alcalde.
"The greatest prize of all," said the Moor; "a huge coffer,
bound with bands of steel, and filled with pearls and precious
stone*."
"Let us have up the coffer by all means," cried the grasping
Alcalde.
"I will descend for no more," said the Moor, doggedly.
" Enough is enough for a reasonable man ; more is superfluous."
' And I, "said the water-carrier, "will bring up nc further
burthen to break the back of my poor donkey."
Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vain, the
Alcalde turned to his two adherents. "Aid me," said he, "to
bring up the coffer, and its contents shall be divided between
LEGEND OP THE MOOR'S LEGACY. l^>
us." So saying he descended the steps, followed, with trenv
bling reluctance, by the alguazil and the barber.
No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed than ho
extinguished the yellow taper: the pavement closed with its
Usual crash, and the three worthies remained buried in its
womb.
He then hastened up the different flights of steps, nor stopped
until in the open air. The little water-carrier followed him as
fast as his short legs would permit.
"What hast thou done?" cried Peregil, as soon as he could
recover breath. ' ' The Alcalde and the other two are shut up
in the vault!"
"It is the will of Allah!" said the Moor, devoutly.
"And will you not release them?" demanded the Gallego.
"Allah forbid !" replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. "It
is written in the book of fate that they shall remain enchanted
until some future adventurer shall come to break the charm.
The will of God be done !" So saying he hurled the end of the
waxen taper far among the gloomy thickets of the glen.
There was now no remedy ; so the Moor and the water-carrier
proceeded with the richly -laden donkey towards the city : not
could honest Peregil refrain from hugging and kissing his long-
eared fellow-labourer, thus restored to him from the clutches of
the law; and, in fact, it is doubtful which gave the simple-
hearted little man most joy at the moment, the gaining of the
treasure or the recovery of the donkey.
The two partners in good luck divided their spoil amicably
and fairly, excepting that the Moor, who had a little taste for
trinketry, made out to get into his heap the most of the pearls
and precious stones, and other baubles, but then he always
gave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent jewels of massy gold
four times the size, with which the latter was heartily content.
They took care not to linger within reach of accidents, but
made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other countries.
The Moor returned into Africa, to his native city of Tetuan,
and the Gallego, with his wife, his children and his donkey,
made the best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the ad
monition and tuition of his wife, he became a personage of some
consequence, for she made the little man array his long body
and short legs in doublet and hose, with a feather in his hat
and a sword by his side ; and, laying aside the familiar appella
tion of Peregil, assume the more sonorous title of Don Pedro
Gil. His progeny grew up a thriving and merry-hearted,
126 THE ALHAMBRA.
though short and bandy-legged generation ; while the Senora
Gil, be-fringed, be-laced, and be-tasselled from her head to her
heels, with glittering rings on every finger, became a model of
slattern fashion and finery.
As to the Alcalde, and his adjuncts, they remained shut up
under the great tower of the Seven Floors, and there they re
main spell-bound at the present day. Whenever there shall be
a lack in Spain of pimping barbers, sharking alguazils, ai>d
corrupt Alcaldes, they may be sought after ; but if they hav
to wait until such time for their deliverance, there is danger o*
their enchantment enduring until doomsday.
VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA.
IT is now nearly three months since I took up my abode in
the Alhambra, during which time the progress of the season
has wrought many changes. When I first arrived every thing
was in the freshness of May ; the f oliage of the trees was still
tender and transparent ; the pomegranate had not yet shed its
brilliant crimson blossoms ; the orchards of the Xenil and the
Darro were in full bloom ; the rocks were hung with wild flow
ers, and Granada seemed completely surrounded by a wilder
ness of roses, among which innumerable nightingales sang, not
merely in the night, but all day long.
The advance of summer has withered the rose and silenced
the nightingale, and the distant country begins to look parched
and sunburnt ; though a perennial verdure reigns immediately
round the city, and in the deep narrow valleys at the foot of
the snow-capped mountains.
The Alhambra possesses retreats graduated to the heat of the
weather, among which the most peculiar is the almost subter
ranean apartment of the baths. This still retains its ancient
oriental character, though stamped with the touching traces
of decline. At the entrance, opening into a small court for
merly adorned with flowers, is a hall, moderate in size, but
light and graceful in architecture. It is overlooked by a small
gallery supported by marble pillars and moresco arches. An
alabaster fountain in the centre of the pavement still throws up
a jet of water to cool the place. On each side are deep alcoves
with raised platforms, where the bathers after their ablution*
VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBRA. 127
reclined on luxurious cushions, soothed to voluptuous repose
by the fragrance of the perfumed air and the notes of soft
music from the gallery. Beyond this hall are the interior
chambers, still more private and retired, where no light is
admitted but through small apertures in the vaulted ceil
ings. Here was the sanctum sanctorum of female privacy,
where the beauties of the harem indulged in the luxury of
the baths. A soft mysterious light reigns through the place,
the broken baths are still there, and traces of ancient elegance.
The prevailing silence and obscurity have made this a fa
vourite resort of bats, who nestle during the day in the dark
nooks and corners, and, on being disturbed, flit mysteriously
about the twilight chambers, heightening in an indescribable
degree their air of desertion and decay.
In this cool and elegant though dilapidated retreat, which
has the freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I have of late passed
the sultry hours of the day; emerging toward sunset, and
bathing, or rather swimming, at night in the great reservoir
of the main court. In this way I have been enabled in a mea
sure to counteract the relaxing and enervating influence of the
climate.
My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, is at an end : I
was roused from it lately by the report of fire-arms, which
reverberated among the towers as if the castle had been taken
by surprise. On sallying forth I found an old cavalier with a
number of domestics in possession of the hall of ambassadors.
He was an ancient Count, who had come up from his palace in
Granada to pass a short time in the Alhambra for the benefit
of purer air, and who, being a veteran and inveterate sports
man, was endeavouring to get an appetite for his breakfast by
shooting at swallows from the balconies. It was a harmless
amusement, for though, by the alertness of his attendants in
loading his pieces, he was enabled to keep up a brisk fire, I
could not accuse him of the death of a single swallow. Nay,
the bird themselves seemed to enjoy the sport, and to deride
his want of skill, skimming in circles close to the balconies,
and twittering as they darted by.
The arrival of this old gentleman has in some measure
changed the aspect of affairs, but has likewise afforded matter
for agreeable speculation. We have tacitly shared the empire
between us, like the last kings of Granada, excepting that we
maintain a most amicable alliance. He reigns absolute over
the Court of the Lions and its adjacentijialls, while I maintain
128 TlIE ALII AMUR A.
peaceful possession of the region of the baths and the little
garden of Lindaraxa. We take our meals together under the
arcades of the court, where the fountains cool the air, and
bubbling rills run along the channels of the marble pavement.
In the evening, a domestic circle gathers about the worthy
old cavalier. The countess comes up from the city, with a
favourite daughter about sixteen years of age. Then there
are the official dependents of the Count, his chaplain, his law
yer, his secretary, his steward, and others officers and agents
of his extensive possessions. Thus he holds a kind of domestic
court, where every person seeks to contribute to his amuse
ment, without sacrificing his own pleasure or self-respect. In
fact, whatever may be said of Spanish pride, it certainly does
not enter into social or domestic Me. Among no people are
the relations between kindred more cordial, or between supe
rior and dependent more frank and genial; in these respects
there still remains, in the provincial life of Spain, much of
the vaunted simplicity of the olden times.
The most interesting member of this family group, however,
is the daughter of the Count, the charming though almost infan
tile little Carmen. Her form has not yet attained its maturity,
but has already the exquisite symmetry and pliant grace so
prevalent in this country. Her blue eyes, fair complexion,
and light hair are unusual in Andalusia, and give a mildness
and gentleness to her demeanour, in contrast to the usual fire
of Spanish beauty, but in perfect unison with the guileless and
confiding innocence of her manners. She has, however, all the
innate aptness and versatility of her fascinating country
women, and sings, dances, and plays the guitar and other
instruments to admiration. A few days after taking up his
residence in the Alhambra, the Count gave a domestic fete on
his saint's day, assembling round him the members of his
family and household, while several old servants came from
his distant possessions to pay their reverence to him, and par
take of the good cheer.
This patriarchal spirit which characterized the Spanish no
bility in the days of their opulence has declined with their
fortunes ; but some who, like the Count, still retain their an
cient family possessions, keep up a little of the ancient system,
and have their estates overrun and almost eaten up by genera
tions of idle retainers* According to this magnificent old
Spanish system, in which the national pride and generosity
bore equal parts, a superannuated servant was never turned
VISITORS TO THE ALHAMBEA. ^Q
off, but became a charge for the rest of his days; nay, his
children, and his children's children, and often their relations,
to the right and left, became gradually entailed upon the
family. Hence the huge palaces of the Spanish nobility,
which have such an air of empty ostentation from the great
ness of their size compared with the mediocrity and scanti
ness of their furniture, were absolutely required in the golden
days of Spain by the patriarchal habits of their possessors.
They were little better than vast barracks for the hereditary
generations of hangers-on that battened at the expense of a
Spanish noble. The worthy Count, who has estates in various
parts of the kingdom, assures me that some of them barely
feed the hordes of dependents nestled upon them ; who con
sider themselves entitled to be maintained upon the place, rent
free, because their forefathers have been so for generations.
The domestic fete of the Count broke in upon the usual still
lif e of the Alhambra. Music and laughter resounded through
its late silent halls ; there were groups of the guests amusing
themselves about the galleries and gardens, and officious ser
vants from town hurrying through the courts, bearing viands
to the ancient kitchen, which was again alive with the tread of
cooks and scullions, and blazed with unwonted fires.
The feast, for a Spanish set dinner is literally a feast, was
laid in the beautiful morescohall called "la sala de las dos Her-
manas," (the saloon of the two sisters;) the table groaned with
abundance, and a joyous conviviality prevailed round the
board ; for though the Spaniards are generally an abstemious
people, they are complete revellers at a banquet.
For my own part, there was something peculiarly interest
ing in thus sitting at a feast, in the royal halls of the Alham
bra, given by the representative of one of its most renowned
conquerors; for the venerable Count, though unwarlike him
self, is the lineal descendant and representative of the " Great
Captain," the illustrious Gonsalvo of Cordova, whose sword
he guards in the archives of his palace at Granada.
The banquet ended, the company adjourned to the hall of
ambassadors. Here every one contributed to the general
amusement by exerting some peculiar talent ; singing, impro
vising, telling wonderful tales, or dancing to that all-pervad
ing talisman of Spanish pleasure, the guitar.
The life and charm of the whole assemblage, however, was
the gifted little Carmen. She took her part in two or three
scenes from Spanish comedies, exhibiting a charming drar
130 ? HB ALEAMBRA.
matic talent ; she gave imitations of the popular Italian sing
ers, with singular and whimsical felicity, and a rare quality ol
voice; she imitated the dialects, dances and ballads of the
gipsies and the neighbouring peasantry, but did every thing
with a facility, a neatness, a grace, and an all-pervading pret-
tiness, that were perfectly fascinating. The great charm of
her performances, however, was their being free from all pre
tension or ambition of display. She seemed unconscious ot
the extent of her own talents, and in fact is accustomed only
to exert them casually, like a child, for the amusement of the
domestic circle. Her observation and tact must be remark
ably quick, for her life is passed in the bosom of her family,
and she can only have had casual and transient glances at
the various characters and traits, brought out impromptu in
moments of domestic hilarity, like the one in question. It is
pleasing to see the fondness and admiration with which every
one of the household regards her: she is never spoken of, even
by the domestics, by any other appellation than that of La
Nina, "the child," an appellation which thus applied has
something peculiarly kind and endearing in the Spanish lan
guage.
Never shall I think of the Alhambra without remembering
the lovely little Carmen sporting in happy and innocent girl
hood in its marble halls ; dancing to the sound of the Moorish
castanets, or mingling the silver warbling of her voice with
the music of the fountains.
On this festive occasion several curious and amusing legends
and traditions were told; many of which have escaped my
memory ; but of those that most struck me, I will endeavour
to shape forth gome entertainment for the reader.
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL;
OR,
THE PILGRIM OF LOVE.
THERE was once a Moorish King of Granada who had but
one son, whom he named Ahmed, to which his courtiers added
the surname of al Kamel, or the perfect, from the indubitable
signs of super-excellence which they perceived in him in his
very infancy. The astrologers countenanced them in theii
LEGEND OF PRINCE AI1MED AL RAVEL. 131
foresight, predicting every thing in his favour that could
make a perfect prince and a prosperous sovereign. One cloud
only rested upon his destiny, and even that was of a roseate
hue. He would be of an amorous temperament, and run great
perils from the tender passion. If, however, he could be kept
from the allurements of love until of mature age, these dan
gers would be averted, and his life thereafter be one uninter
rupted course of felicity.
To prevent all danger of the kind, the king wisely deter
mined to rear the prince in a seclusion, where he should never
see a female face nor hear even the name of love. For this
purpose he built a beautiful palace on the brow of a hill above
the Alhambra, hi the midst of delightful gardens, but sur
rounded by lofty walls ; being, in fact, the same palace known
at the present day by the name of the Generaliffe. In this
palace the youthful prince was shut up and entrusted to the
guardianship and instruction of Ebon Bonabbon, one of the
wisest and dryest of Arabian sages, who had passed the great
est part of his lif e in Egypt, studying hieroglyphics and mak
ing researches among the tombs and pyramids, and who saw
more charms in an Egyptian mummy than in the most tempt
ing of living beauties. The sage was ordered to instruct the
prince in all kinds of knowledge but one he is to be kept
Utterly ignorant of love "use every precaution for the pur
pose you may think proper," said the king, "but remember,
oh Ebon Bonabbon, if my son learns aught of that forbidden
knowledge, while under your care, your head shall answer for
it." A withered smile came over the dry visage of the wise
Bonabbon at the menace. "Let your majesty's heart be as
easy about your son as mine is about my head. Am I a man
likely to give lessons in the idle passion?"
Under the vigilant care of the philosopher, the prince grew
' up in the seclusion of the palace and its gardens. He had
black slaves to attend upon him hideous mutes, who knew
nothing of love, or if they did, had not words to communicate
it. His mental endowments were the peculiar care of Ebon
Bonabbon, who sought to initiate him into the abstruse lore of
Egypt, but in this the prince made little progress, and it was
soon evident that he had no turn for philosophy.
He was, however, amazingly ductile for a youthful prince ;
ready to follow any advice and always guided by the last coun
cillor. He suppressed his yawns, and listened patiently to the
long and learned discourses of Ebon Bonabbon, frop^ which he
132 THE ALUAMBRA.
imbibed a smattering of various kinds of knowledge, and thus
happily attained his twentieth year, a miracle of princely wis-
dom, but totally ignorant of love.
About this time, however, a change came over the conduct
of the prince. He completely abandoned his studies and took
to strolling about the gardens and musing by the side of the
Fountains. He had been taught a little music among his van
i>us accomplishments ; it now engrossed a great part of his
time, and a turn for poetry became apparent. The sage Ebon
Bonabbon took the alarm, and endeavoured to work these idle
humours out of him by a severe course of algebra; but the
prince turned from it with distaste. " I cannot endure alge
bra," said he; " it is an abomination to me. I want something
tkat speaks more to the heart."
The sage Ebon Bonabbon shook his dry head at the words.
" Here's an end to philosophy," thought he. " The prince has
discovered he has a heart !" He now kept anxious watch upon
his pupil, and saw that the latent tenderness of his nature
was in activity, and only wanted an object. He wandered
about the gardens of the Generaliffe in an intoxication of
feelings of which he knew not the cause. Sometimes ho
would sit plunged in a delicious reverie ; then he would seize
his lute and draw from it the most touching notes, and
then throw it aside, and break forth into sighs and ejacula
tions.
By degrees this loving disposition began to extend to inani
mate objects ; he had his favourite flowers which he cherished
with tender; assiduity then he became attached to various
trees, and there was one in particular, of a graceful form and
drooping foliage, on which he lavished his amorous devo
tion, carving his name on its bark, hanging garlands on its
branches, and singing couplets in its praise, to the accompani
ment of his lute.
The sage Ebon Bonabbon was alarmed at this excited state
of his pupil. He saw him on the very brink of forbidden
knowledge the least hint might reveal to him the fatal secret.
Trembling for the safety of the prince, and the security of
his own head, he hastened to draw him from the seductions
of the garden, and shut him up in the highest tower of
the Generaliffe. It contained beautiful apartments, and com
manded an almost boundless prospect, but was elevated far
above that atmosphere of sweats and those witching bowers s* 1
dangerous to the feelings of the too susceptible Ahmed.
LEGENb OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 133
What was to be done, however, to reconcile him to this
restraint and to beguile the tedious hours? He had exhausted
almost all kinds of agreeable knowledge; and algebra was
not to be mentioned. Fortunately Ebon Bonabbon had been
instructed, when in Egypt, in the language of birds, by a
Jewish Eabbin, who had received it in lineal transmission
from Solomon the wise, who had been taught it by the Queen
of Sheba. At the very mention of such a study the eyes of
the prince sparkled with animation, and he applied himself
to it with such avidity, that he soon became as great an adept
as his master.
The tower of the Generaliffe was no longer a solitude ; he
nad companions at hand with whom he could converse. The
first acquaintance ne formed was with a hawk who had built
his nest in a crevice of the lofty battlements, from whence ho
soared far and wide in quest of prey. The prince, however,
found little to like or esteem in him. He was a mere pirate
of the air, swaggering and boastful, whose talk was all about
rapine, and carnage, and desperate exploits.
His next acquaintance was an owl, a mighty wise-looking
bird, with a large head and staring eyes, who sat blinking
and goggling ah 1 day in a hole in the wall, but roamed forth at
night. He had great pretensions to wisdom ; talked something
of astrology and the moon, and hinted at the dark sciences,
but he was grievously given to metaphysics, and the prince
found his prosings were more ponderous than those of the
sage Ebon Bonabbon.
Then there was a bat, that hung all day by his heels in the
iark corner of a vault, but sallied out in a slip-shod style at
twilight. He, however, had but twilight ideas on all subjects,
derided things of which he had taken but an imperfect view,
and seemed to take delight in nothing.
Beside these there was a swallow, with whom the prince
was at first much taken. He was a smart talker, but restless,
bustling, and for ever on the wing; seldom remaining long
enough for any contiuued conversation. He turned out in the
end to be a mere smatterer, who did but skim over the surface
of things, pretending to know every thing, but knowing noth
ing thoroughly.
These were the only feathered associates with whom the
prince had any opportunity of exercising his newly acquired
Language ; the tower was too high for any other birds to fre
quent it. He soon grew wRrv of his new acquaintances
134 THE ALHAMBRA.
whose conversation spake so little to the head and nothing to
the heart ; and gradually relapsed into his loneliness. A win
ter passed away, spring opened with all its bloom, and
verdure, and breathing sweetness, and the happy time arrived
for birds to pair and build their nests. Suddenly, as it were,
a universal burst of song and melody broke forth from the
groves and gardens of the Generaliffe, and reached the prince
in the solitude of his tower. From every side he heard the
same universal theme love love love chaunted forth and
responded to in every variety of note and tone. The prince
listened in silence and perplexity. "What can be this love,"
thought he, " of which the world seems so full, and of which I
know nothing?" He applied for information to his friend the
hawk. The ruffian bird answered in a tone of scorn, 1 "You
must apply," said he, " to the vulgar, peaceable birds of earth,
who are made for the prey of us princes of the air. My trade
is war, and fighting my delight. In a word, I am a warrior,
and know nothing of this thing called love."
The prince turned from him with disgust, and sought the
owl in his retreat. "This is a bird," said he, "of peaceful
habits, and may be able to solve my question." So he asked
the owl to tell him what was this love about which all the birds
in the groves below were singing.
Upon this the owl put on a look of offended dignity. " My
nights," said he, " are taken up in study and research, and my
days in ruminating in myself upon all that I have learnt. As
to these singing birds of whom you talk, I never listen to them.
I despise them and their themes. Allah be praised, I cannot
sing. In a word, I am a philosopher, and know nothing of
this thing called love."
The prince now repaired to the vault where his friend the
oat was hanging by the heels, and propounded the same ques-
,tion. The bat wrinkled up his nose into a most snappish ex
pression. "Why do you disturb me in my morning's nap
with such an idle question," said he peevishly. "I only fly
by twilight when all birds are asleep, and never trouble myself
with their concerns. I am neither bird nor beast, and I thank
heaven for it. I have found out the villainy of the whole of
them, and hate them, one and all. In a word, I am a mis
anthrope, and know nothing of this thing called love."
As a last resort, the prince was now sought the swallow, and
stopped him just as he was circling about the summit of the
tower. The swallow as usual was in a prodigious hurry, and
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 135
had scarce time to make a reply. " Upon my word,* said he,
" I have so much public business to attend to, and so many
pursuits to follow, that I have had no time to think on the
subject. I have every day a thousand visits to pay ; a thou
sand affairs of importance to examine into, that leave me not 3
moment of leisure for these little sing-song matters. In a
word, I am a citizen of the world. I know nothing of this
thing called love." So saying, the swallow dived into the
valley and was out of sight in a moment.
The prince remained disappointed and perplexed, but with
his curiosity still more piqued by the difficulty of gratifying it.
While in this mood his ancient guardian entered the tower.
The prince advanced eagerly to meet him. " Oh sage Ebon
Bonabbon," cried he, " thou hast revealed to me much of the
wisdom of the earth, but there is one thing of which I remain
in utter ignorance, and would fain be informed."
"My prince has but to make the inquiry, and every thing
within the limited range of his servant's intellect is at his com
mand."
"Tell me then, oh most profound of sages, what is the na
ture of this thing called love?"
The sage Ebon Bonabbon was struck as with a thunderbolt.
He trembled and turned pale, and felt as if his head sat but
loosely on his shoulders.
" What could suggest such a question to my prince? where
could he have learnt so idle a word?"
The prince led him to the window of the tower. " Listen,
oh Ebon Bonabbon !" said he. The sage listened. The night
ingale sat in a thicket below the tower singing to his paramour,
the rose ; from every blossomed spray and tufted grove arose
a strain of melody, and love love love, was still the unvary
ing theme. "Allah Achbar! God is great!" exclaimed the
wise Bonabbon. ' ' Who shall pretend to keep this secret from
the hearts of men when even the birds of the air conspire to
betray it?"
Then turning to Ahmed, " Oh my prince," cried he, "shut
thine ears to these seductive strains. Close thy mind against
this dangerous knowledge. Know that this love is the cause
of half the ills of wretched mortality. It is this which pro
duces bitterness of strife between brethren and friends ; which
causes treacherous murder and desolating war. Care and sor
row, weary days and sleepless nights, are its attendants. It
withers the bloom and blights the joys of youth, and brings
136 TUB ALHAMBRA.
on the ills and griefs of premature old age. Allah preserve
thee, my prince, in total ignorance of this thing called love !"
The sage Ebon Bonabbon hastily retired, leaving the prince
plunged in still deeper perplexity. It was in vain he at
tempt ed to dismiss the subject from his mind; it still con
tinued uppermost in his thoughts, and teased and exhausted
him with vain conjectures. " Surely, " said he to himself as
he listened to the tuneful strains of the birds, "there is no
sorrow in these notes : every thing seems tenderness and joy.
If love be a cause of such wretchedness and strife, why are
not those birds drooping in solitude, or tearing each other in
pieces, instead of fluttering cheerfully about the groves, or
sporting with each other among the flowers?"
He lay one morning on his couch meditating on this in
explicable matter. The window of his chamber was open to
admit the soft morning breeze which came laden with the pcv-
fume of orange blossoms from the valley of the Darro. Tiio
voice of the nightingale was faintly heard, still chanting tho
wonted theme. As the prince was listening and sighing, there
was a sudden rushing noise in the air; a beautiful dove, pur
sued by a hawk, darted in at the window and fell panting en
the floor; while the pursuer, balked of his prey, soared oS. to
the mountains.
The prince took up the gasping bird, smoothed its feathers,
and nestled it in his bosom. When he had soothed it by bis
caresses he put it in a golden cage, and offered it, with his
own hands, the whitest and finest of wheat and the purest of
water. The bird, however, refused food, and sat drooping and
pining, and uttering piteous moans.
"What aileth thee?" said Ahmed. "Hastthou not every
thing thy heart can wish?"
"Alas, no!" replied the dove, " am I not separated from tho
partner of my heart and that too in the happy spring-time
the very season of love?"
"Of love!" echoed Ahmed. "I pray thee, my pretty bird,
canst thou then tell me what is love?"
" Too well can I, my prince. It is the torment of one, the
felicity of two, the strife and enmity of three. It is a charm
which draws two beings together, and unites them by delicious
sympathies, making it happiness to be with each other, but
misery to be apart. Is there no being to whom you are drawn
by these ties of tender affection?"
"I like my old teac^r. Fbon Bonabbon, better than any
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 137
other being ; but he is often tedious, and I occasionally feel
myself happier without his society."
"That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak of love, the
great mystery and principle of life ; the intoxicating revel of
youth ; the sober delight of age. Look forth my prince, and
behold how at this blest season all nature is full of love. Every
created being has its mate ; the most insignificant bird sings to
its paramour ; the very beetle woos its lady beetle in the dust,
and yon butterflies which you see fluttering high above the
tower and toying in the air are happy in each other's love.
Alas, my prince ! hast thou spent so many of the precious days
of youth without knowing any thing of love ! Is there no gen
tle being of another sex ; no beautiful princess, or lovely damsel
who has ensnared your heart, and filled your bosom with a
soft tumult of pleasing pains and tender wishes?"
" I begin to understand !" said the prince sighing. " Such a
tumult I have more than once experienced without knowing
the cause ; and where should I seek for an object such as you
describe in this dismal solitude?"
A little further conversation ensued, and the first amatory
lesson of the prince was complete.
"Alas!" said he, "if love be indeed such a delight, and its
interruption such a misery, Allah forbid that I should mar the
joy of any of its votaries." He opened the cage, took out the
dove, and, having fondly kissed it, carried it to the window.
" Go, happy bird," said he, " rejoice with the partner of thy
heart in the days of youth and spring-time. Why should I
make thee a fellow prisoner in this dreary tower, where love
can never enter?"
The dove flapped its wings in rapture, gave one vault into
the air, and then swooped downward on whistling wings to
the blooming bowers of the Darro.
The prince followed him with his eyes, and then gave way to
bitter repining. The singing of the birds which once delighted
him now added to his bitterness. Love! love! lovel! Alas,
poor youth, he now understood the strain.
His eyes flashed fire when next he beheld the sage Bonab-
bon. "Why hast thou kept me in this abject ignorance?"
cried he. "Why has the great mystery and principle of life
been withheld from me, in which I find the meanest insect is
so learned? Behold all nature is in a revel of delight. Every
created being rejoices with its mate. This this is the love
about which I have sought instruction ; why am I alone d&-
138 THE ALHAHBRA.
barred its enjoyment? why hast so much of my youth been
wasted without a knowledge of its rapture?"
The sage Bonabbon saw that all further reserve was use
less, for the prince had acquired the dangerous and forbidden
knowledge. He revealed to him, therefore, the predictions
of the astrologers, and the precautions that had been taken
in his education to avert the threatened evils. "And now,
my prince," added he, "my life is in your hands. Let the
king your father discover that you have learned the passion
of love while under my guardianship, and my head must an
swer for it."
The prince was as reasonable as most young men of his age,
and easily listened to the remonstrances of his tutor, since
nothing pleaded against them. Beside, he really was at
tached to the sage Bonabbon, and being as yet but theoreti
cally acquainted with the passion of love, he consented to
confine the knowledge of it to his own bosom, rather than
endanger the head of the philosopher. His discretion was
doomed, however, to be put to still further proofs. A few
mornings afterwards, as he was i-uminating on the battle
ments of the tower, the dove which had been released by him
came hovering in the air, and alighted fearlessly upon his
shoulder.
The prince fondled it to his breast. " Happy bird," said he,
" who can fly, as it were, with the wings of the morning to
the uttermost parts of the earth. Where hast thou been since
we parted?"
"In a far country, my prince; from whence I bring you
tidings in reward for my liberty. In the wide compass of my
flight, which extends over plain and mountain, as I was soar
ing in the air, I beheld below me a delightful garden with all
kinds of fruits and flowers. It was in a green meadow on
the banks of a meandering stream, and in the centre of the
garden was a stately palace. I alighted in one of the bowers
to repose after my weary flight ; on the green bank below me
was a youthful princess in the very sweetness and bloom of
her years. She was surrounded by female attendants, young
like herself, who decked her with garlands and coronets of
flowers ; but no flower of field or garden could compare with
her for loveliness. Here, however, she bloomed in secret, for
the garden was surrounded by high walls, and no mortal man
vvas permitted to enter. When I beheld this beauteous maid
thus young, and innocent, and unspotted by the world, I
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL, 13g
thought, here is the being formed by heaven to inspire my
prince with love."
The description was as a spark of fire to the combustible
heart of Ahmed ; all the latent amorousness of his tempera
ment had at once found an object, and he conceived an
immeasurable passion for the princess. He wrote a letter
couched in the most impassioned language, breathing his fer
vent devotion, but bewailing the unhappy thraldom of his per-,
son, which prevented him from seeking her out, and throwing
himself at her feet. He added couplets of the most tender
and moving eloquence, for he was a poet by nature and in
spired by love. He addressed his letter, "To the unknown
beauty, from the captive prince Ahmed," then perfuming it
with musk and roses, he gave it to the dove.
"Away, trustiest of messengers," said he. " Fly over moun
tain, and valley, and river, and plain ; rest not in bower nor
set foot on earth, until thou hast given this letter to the mis
tress of my heart. "
The dove soared high in air, and taking his course darted
away in one undeviating direction. The prince followed hirn
with his eye until he was a mere speck on a cloud, and grad
ually disappeared behind a mountain.
Day after day he watched for the return of the messenger
of love ; but he watched in vain. He began to accuse him of
forgetfulness, when towards sunset, one evening, the faithful
bird fluttered into his apartment, and, falling at his feet, ex
pired. The arrow of some wanton archer had pierced his
breast, yet he had struggled with the lingerings of life to exe
cute his mission. As the prince bent with grief over this
gentle martyr to fidelity, he beheld a chain of pearls round
his neck, attached to which, beneath his wing, was a small
enamelled picture. It represented a lovely princess in the
very flower of her years. It was, doubtless, the unknown
beauty of the garden : but who and where was she how had
she received his letter and was this picture sent as a token
of an approval of his passion? Unfortunately, the death of
the faithful dove left every thing in mystery and doubt.
The prince gazed on the picture tUl his eyes swam with
tears. He pressed it to his h'ps and to his heart ; he sat for
hours contemplating it in an almost agony of tenderness.
"Beautiful image!" said he. "Alas, thou art but an image.
Yet thy dewy eyes beam tenderly- upon me ; those rosy lips
look as though they would speak encouragement. Vain faa-
140 THE ALHAMBRA.
cies ' Have they not looked the same on some more happy
rival? But where in this wide world shall I hope to find the
original? Who knows what mountains, what realms may
separate us? What adverse chance may intervene? Perhaps
now, even now, lovers may be crowding around her, while I
sit here, a prisoner in a tower, wasting my time in adoration
of a painted shadow."
The resolution of prince Ahmed was taken. "I will fly from
this palace," said he, "which has become an odious prison, and,
a pilgrim of love, will seek this unknown princess throughout
the world."
To escape from the cower in the day, when every one was
awake, might be a difficult matter; but at night the palace
was slightly guarded, for no one apprehended any attempt of
the kind from the prince, who had always been so passive in
his captivity. How was he to guide himself, however, in his
darkling flight, being ignorant of the country? He bethought
biTn of the owl, who was accustomed to roam at night, and
must know every by-lane and secret pass. Seeking him in his
hermitage, he questioned him touching his knowledge of the
land. Upon this the owl put on a mighty self-important look.
" You must know, prince," said he, "that we owls are of
a very ancient and extensive family, though rather fallen to
decay, and possess ruinous castles and palaces in all parts of
Spain. There is scarcely a tower of the mountains, or fortress
of the plains, or an old citadel of a city but has some brother,
or uncle, or cousin quartered in it; and in going the rounds
to visit these my numerous kindred I have pryed into every
nook and corner, and made myself acquainted with every
secret of the land. "
The prince was overjoyed to find the owl so deeply versed
in topography, and now informed him, in confidence, of hid
tender passion and his intended elopement, urging him to be
his companion and counsellor.
"Go to!" said the owl, with a look of displeasure. "Am I
a bird to engage in a love affair; I whose whole time is devoted
to meditation and the moon!"
"Be not offended, most solemn owl!" replied the prince.
"Abstract thyself for a time from meditation and the moon,
and aid me in my flight, and thou shalt have whatever heart
can wish."
"I have that already," said the owl. "A few mice are suffi
cient for my frugal table, and this hole in the wall is spacioua
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. HI
enough for my studies, and what more does a philosopher like
myself desire?"
"Bethink thee, most wise owl, that while moping in thy cell
and gazing at the moon all thy talents are lost to the world. I
shall one day be a sovereign prince, and may advance thee to
some post of honour and dignity."
The owl, though a philosopher and above the ordinary
wants of life, was not above ambition, so he was finally pre
vailed upon to elope with the prince, and be his guide and
llontor in his pilgrimage.
The plans of a lover are promptly executed. The prince col
lected all his jewels, and concealed them about his person as
travelling funds. That very night he lowered himself by his
scarf from a balcony of the tower, clambered over the outer
walls of the Generaliffe, and, guided by the owl, made good his
escape before morning to the mountains.
He now held a council with his Mentor as to his future
course.
" Might I advise," said the owl, "I would recommend you
k, repair to Seville. You must know that many years since I
was on a visit to an uncle, an owl of great dignity and power,
who lived in a ruined wing of the Alcazar of that place. In
my hoverings at night over the city, I frequently remarked a
light burning in a lonely tower. At length I alighted on the
battlements, and found it to proceed from the lamp of an Ara
bian magician. He was surrounded by his magic books, and
on his shoulder was perched his familiar, an ancient raven,
who had come with him from Egypt. I became acquainted
with that raven, and owe to him a great part of the know
ledge I possess. The magician is since dead, but the raven
still inhabits the tower, for these birds are of wonderful long
life. I would advise you, O prince, to seek that raven, for
he is a soothsayer and a conjuror, and deals in the black art,
for which all ravens, and especially those of Egypt, are re
nowned."
The prince was struck with the wisdom of this advice, and
accordingly bent his course towards Seville. He travelled
only in the night, to accommodate his companion, and lay by
during ihe day in some dark cavern or mouldering watch-
to wer^er; the owl knew every hiding hole of the kind in the
country, and had a most antiquarian taste for ruins.
At length, one morning at day -break, they reached the city
of Seville, where the owl, who hated the glare and bustle of
148 TI1K ALHAMBRA.
crowded streets, halted without the gate, and took up nil
quarters in a hollow troe.
The prince entered the gate, and readily found the magic
tower, which rose above the houses of the city as a palm-tree
rises above the shrubs of the desert. It was, in fact, the same
tower known at the present day as the Giralda, the famous
Moorish tower of Seville.
The prince ascended by a great winding staircase to the
summit of the tower, where he found the cabalistic raven, an
old, mysterious, gray-headed bird, ragged in feather, with a
film over one eye that gave him the glare of a spectre. He
was perched on one leg, with his head turned on one side, and
poring with his remaining eye on a diagram described on the
pavement.
The prince approached him with the awe and reverence
naturally inspired by his venerable appearance and super
natural wisdom. " Pardon me, most ancient and darkly wise
raven," exclaimed he, "if for a moment I interrupt those
studies which are the wonder of the world. You behold before
you a votary of love, who would fain seek counsel how to ob
tain the object of his passion."
"In other words," said the raven, with a significant look,
" you seek to try my skill in palmistry. Come, show me your
hand, and let me decipher the mysterious lines of fortune."
"Excuse me," said the prince, " I come not to pry into the
decrees of fate, which are hidden by Allah from the eyes of
mortals. I am a pilgrim of love, and seek but to find a clue to
the object of my pilgrimage."
"And can you be at any loss for an object in amorous
Andalusia?" said the old raven, leering upon him with his
single eye. "Above all, can you be at a loss in wanton Seville,
where black-eyed damsels dance the zambra under every
orange grove?"
The prince blushed, and was somewhat shocked at hearing
an old bird, with one foot in the grave, talk thus loosely.
" Believe me," said he gravely, "I am on none such light and
vagrant errand as thou dost insinuate. The black-eyed dam
sels of Andalusia who dance among the orange groves of the
Guadalquiver, are as naught to me. I seek one unknown but
immaculate beauty, the original of this picture, and I beseech
thee, most potent raven, if it be within the scope of thy know
ledge, or the reach of thy art, inform me where she may b
found."
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 143
The gray-headed raven was rebuked by the gravity of the
prince. "What know I," replied he dryly, "of youth and
beauty? My visits are to the old and withered, not the young
and fair. The harbinger of fate am I, who croak bodings of
death from the chimney top, and flap my wings at the sick
man's window. You must seek elsewhere for tidings of your
unknown beauty."
"And where ara I to seek, if not among the sons of wisdom,
versed in the book of destiny? A royal prince am I, fated by
the stars, and sent on a mysterious enterprise, on which may
hang the destiny of empires."
When the raven heard that it was a matter of vast moment,
In which the stars took interest, he changed his tone and
manner, and listened with profound attention to the story of
the prince. When it was concluded, he replied, "Touching
this princess, I can give thee no information of myself, for my
flight is not among gardens or around ladies' bowers; but hie
thee to Cordova, seek the palm-tree of the great Abderahman,
which stands in the court of the principal mosque ; at the foot
of it you will find a great traveller, who has visited all coun
tries and courts, and been a favourite with queens and prin
cesses. He will give you tidings of the object of your
search. "
"Many thanks for this precious information," said the
prince. "Farewell, most venerable conjuror."
"Farewell, pilgrim of love," said the raven dryly, and again
fell to pondering on the diagram.
The prince sallied forth from Seville, sought his fellow-
traveller the owl, who was still dozing in the hollow tree, and
ret off for Cordova.
He approached it along hanging gardens, and orange and
citron groves overlooking the fair valley of the Guadalquiver.
When arrived at its gates, the owl flew up to a dark hole in
the wall, and the prince proceeded in quest of the palm-tree
planted in days of yore by the great Abderahman. It stood in
the midst of the great court of the Mosque, towering from
amidst orange and cypress trees. Dervises and Faquirs were
seated in groups under the cloisters of the court, and many of
the faithful were performing their ablutions at the fountains,
before entering the Mosque.
At the foot of the palm-tree was a crowd listening to the
words of one who appeared to be talking with great volubility.
This, said the prince to himself, must be the great trayeller
144 2~" ALUAXlSliA.
who is to give me tidings of the unknown princess. He
mingled in the crowd, but was astonished to perceive that
they were all listening to a parrot, who, with his bright green
coat, pragmatical eye, and consequential topknot, had the air
of a bird on excellent terms with himself.
"How is this," said the prince to one of the bystanders,
' that so many grave persons can be delighted with the garrul
ity of a chattering bird?"
" You know not of whom you speak," said the other; "this
parrot is a descendant of the famous parrot of Persia, renowned
for his story-telling talent. He has all the learning of the East
at the tip of his tongue, and can quote poetry as fast as he can
talk. He has visited various foreign courts, where he has been
considered an oracle of erudition. He has been a universal
favourite also with the fair sex, who have a vast admiration
for erudite parrots that can quote poetry."
"Enough," said the prince, "I will have some private talk
with this distinguished traveller."
He sought a private interview, and expounded the nature of
his errand. He had scarcely mentioned it when the parrot
burst into a fit of dry rickety laughter, that absolutely brought
tears in his eyes. " Excuse my mirth," said he, " but the mere
mention of love always sets me laughing."
The prince was shocked at this ill-timed merriment. " Is
not love," said he, "the great mystery of nature, the secret
principle of life, the universal bond of sympathy?"
' ' A fig's end !" cried the parrot, interrupting him. ' ' Pry'thee
where hast thou learnt this sentimental jargon? Trust me,
love is quite out of vogue ; one never hears of it in the company
of wits and people of refinement."
The prince sighed as he recalled the different language of his
friend the dove. But this parrot, thought he, has lived about
court ; he affects the wit and the fine gentleman ; he knowa
nothing of the thing called love.
Unwilling to provoke any more ridicule of the sentiment
which filled his heart, he now directed his inquiries to the
immediate purport of his visit.
"Tell me, "said he, "most accomplished parrot, thou who
hast every where been admitted to the most secret bowers of
beauty, hast thou in the course of thy travels met with the
original of this portrait?"
The parrot took the picture in his claw, turned his head from
side to side, and examined it curiouslv with either eye. " Upon
LS!GK2fD OF PRINCE AHMED AL RAMEL. 145
my honour," said he, "a very pretty face; very pretty. But
then one sees so many pretty women in one's travels that one
can hardly but hold bless me ! now I look at it again sure
enough, this is the princess Aldegonda: how could I forget one
that is so prodigious a favourite with me?"
" The princess Aldegonda!" echoed the prince, "and where is
she to be found?"
"Softly softly," said the parrot, "easier to be found than
gained. She is the only daughter of the Christian king who
reigns at Toledo, and is shut up from the world until her
seventeenth birth-day, on account of some prediction of those
meddlesome fellows, the astrologers. You'll not get a sight of
her, no mortal man can see her. I was admitted to her pres
ence to entertain her, and I assure you, on the word of a parrot
who has seen the world, I have conversed with much silh'e?
princesses in my time."
"A word in confidence, my dear parrot," said the prince.
' I am heir to a kingdom, and shall one day sit upon a throne.
I see that you are a bird of parts and understood the word.
Help me to gain possession of this princess and I will advance
you to some distinguished post about court."
" With all my heart," said the parrot ; " but let it be a sine-
cure if possible, for we wits have a great dislike to labour."
Arrangements were promptly made ; the prince sallied forth
from Cordova through the same gate by which he had entered ;
called the owl down from the hole in the wall, introduced him
to his new travelling companion as a brother scavant, and away
they set off on their journey.
They travelled much more slowly than accorded with the
impatience of the prince, but the parrot was accustomed to
high life, and did not like to be disturbed early in the morning.
The owl, on tjie other hand, was for sleeping at mid-day, and
lost a great deal of time by his long siestas. His antiquarian
taste also was in the way ; for he insisted on pausing and in
specting every ruin, and had long legendary tales to tell about
every old tower and castle in the country. The prince had
supposed that he and the parrot, being both birds of learning,
could delight in each other's society, but never had he been
more mistaken. They were eternally bickering. The one was
a wit, the other a philosopher. The parrot quoted poetry, was
critical on new readings, and eloquent on small points of eru
dition; the owl treated all such knowledge as trifling, and
relished nothing but metaphysics. Then the parrot would sing
146 THE ALHAMBRA.
songs and repeat bon mots, and crack jokes upon his solemn
neighbour, and laugh outrageously at his own wit ; all which
the owl considered a grievous invasion of his dignity, and
would scowl, and sulk, and swell, and sit silent for a whole day
together.
The prince heeded not the wranglings of his companions,
being wrapped up in the dreams of his own fancy, and the
contemplation of the portrait of the beautiful princess. In this
way they journeyed through the stern passes of the Sierra Mo-
rena, across the sunburnt plains of La Mancha and Castile, and
along the banks of the " Golden Tagus," which winds its wizard
mazes over one-half of Spain and Portugal. At length, they
came in sight of a strong city with walls and towers, built on
a rocky promontory, round the foot of which the Tagus circled
with brawling violence.
"Behold," exclaimed the owl, "the ancient and renowned
city of Toledo ; a city famous for its antiquities. Behold those
venerable domes and towers, hoary with time, and clothed
with legendary grandeur ; in which so many of my ancestors
have meditated "
" Pish," cried the parrot, interrupting his solemn antiquarian
rapture, "what have we to do with antiquities, and legends,
and your ancestors? Behold, what is more to the purpose, be
hold the abode of youth and "beauty, behold, at length, oh
prince, the abode of your long sought princess."
The prince looked in the direction indicated by the parrot,
and behold, in a delightful green meadow on the banks of tho
Tagus, a stately palace rising from amidst the bowers of a
delicious garden. It was just such a place as had been de
scribed by the dove as the residence of the original of the pic
ture. He gazed at it with a throbbing heart: " Perhaps at
this moment," thought he, "the beautiful princess is sporting
beneath those shady bowers, or pacing with delicate step those
stately terraces, or reposing beneath those lofty roofs !" As he
looked more narrowly, he perceived that the walls of the gar
den wore of great height, so as to defy access, while numbers
of armed guards patrolled around them.
The prince turned to the parrot. " Oh most accomplished of
birds," said he, "thou hast the gift of human speech. Hio
thee to yon garden; seek the idol of my sorl. and tell her that
prince Ahmed, a pilgrim of love, and guided by the stars, has
arrived in quest of her on the flowery banks of the Tagus."
The parrot, proud of hi embassy, flew away to the garden
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 147
mounted above its lofty walls, and, after soaring for a time
over the lawns and groves, alighted on the balcony of a
pavilion that overhung the river. Here, looking in at the
casement, he beheld the princess reclining on a couch, with he*
eyes fixed on a paper, while tears gently stole after each othen
down her pallid cheek.
Pluming his wings for a moment, adjusting his bright green
coat, and elevating his topknot, the parrot perched himself
beside her with a gallant air ; then assuming a tenderness of
tone,
"Dry thy tears, most beautiful of princesses," said he, "I
come to bring solace to thy heart."
The princess was startled on hearing a voice, but turning
and seeing nothing but a little green-coated bird bobbing and
bowing before her: "Alas! what solace canst thou yield,"
said she, " seeing thou art but a parrot?"
The parrot was nettled at the question. " I have consoled
many beautiful ladies in my time, " said he ; " but let that pass.
At present, I come ambassador from a royal prince. Know
that Ahmed, the prince of Granada, has arrived in quest of
thee, and is encamped even now on the flowery banks of the
Tagus."
The eyes of the beautiful princess sparkled at these words,
even brighter than the diamonds in her coronet. " O sweetest
of parrots," cried she, "joyful indeed are thy tidings; for I
was faint, and weary, and sick almost unto death, with doubt
of the constancy of Ahmed. Hie thee back, and tell him that
the words of his letter are engraven in my heart, and his
poetry has been the food of my soul. Tell him, however, that
he must prepare to prove his love by force of arms ; to-morrow
is my seventeenth birth-day, when the king, my father, holds
a great tournament ; several princes are to enter the lists, and
my hand is to be the prize of the victor."
The parrot again took wing, and, rustling through the groves,
flew back to where the prince awaited his return. The rapture
of Ahmed on finding the original of his adored portrait, and
finding her kind and true, can only be conceived by those
favoured mortals, who have had the good fortune to realize day
drearas, and turn shadows into substance. Still there was one
thing that alloyed his transport, this impending tournament.
In fact, the banks of the Tagus were already glittering with
arms, and resounding with trumpets of the various knights,
Vho wi^Jr; proud retinues were Drancing on towards Toledo to
148 2!fl ALHAMURA.
attend the ceremonial. The same star that had controlled thft
destiny of the prince, had governed that of the princess, and
until her seventeenth birth-day, she had been shut up from
the world, to guard her from the tender passion. The fame of
her charms, however, had been enhanced, rather than obscured
by this seclusion. Several powerful princes had contended for
her alliance, and her father, who was a king of wondrous
shrewdness, to avoid making enemies by showing partiality,
had referred them to the arbitrament of arms. Among tho
rival candidates, were several renowned for strength and
prowess. What a predicament for the unfortunate Ahmed,
unprovided as he was with weapons, and unskilled in the exer
cises of chivalry. "Luckless prince that I am!" said he, "to
have been brought up in seclusion, under the eye of a philoso
pher! of what avail are algebra and philosophy in affairs of
love ! alas, Ebon Bonabbon, why hast thou neglected to instruct
me in the management of arms?" Upon this the owl broke
silence prefacing his harangue with a pious ejaculation, for he
was a devout Mussulman:
"Allah Achbar! 'God is great,'" exclaimed he, "in his
hands are all secret things, he alone governs the destiny of
princes ! Know, O prince, that this land is full of mysteries,
hidden from all but those who, like myself, can grope after
knowledge in the dark. Know that in the neighbouring moun
tains there is a cave, and in that cave there is an iron table,
ajnd on that table lies a suit of magic armour, and beside that
table stands a spell-bound steed, which have been shut up there
for many generations."
The prince stared with wonder, while the owl blinking his
huge round eyes and erecting his horns proceeded :
"Many years since, I accompanied my father to these parts
on a tour of his estates, and we sojourned in that cave, and
thus became I acquainted with the mystery. It is a tradition
in our family, which I have heard from my grandfather when
I was yet but a very little owlet, that this armour belonged to
a Moorish magician, who took refuge in this cavern when
Toledo was captured by the Christians, and died here, leaving
his steed and weapons under a mystic spell, never to be used
but by a Moslem, and by him only from sunrise to mid-day.
In that interval, whoever uses them, will overthrow every
opponent."
" Enough, let us seek this cave," exclaimed Ahmed.
Guided by his legendarv Mentor, the prince found the
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 149
cavcm, which was in one of the wildest recesses of those rocky
cliffs which rose around Toledo ; none but the mousing eye of
an owl or an antiquary could have discovered the entrance to
it. A sepulchral lamp of everlasting oil shed a solemn light
through the place. On an iron table in the centre of the
cavern lay the magic armour, against it leaned the lance, and
beside it stood an Arabian steed, caparisoned for the field, but
motionless as a statue. The armour was bright and unsullied,
as it had gleamed in days of old; the steed in as good con
dition as if just from the pasture, and when Ahmed laid his
hand upon his neck, he pawed the ground and gave a loud
neigh of joy that shook the walls of the cavern. Thus pro
vided with horse to ride and weapon to wear, the prince de
termined to defy the field at the impending tourney.
The eventful morning arrived. The lists for the combat
were prepared in the Vega or plain just below the cliff -built
walls of Toledo. Here were erected stages and galleries for
the spectators, covered with rich tapestry and sheltered from
the sun by silken awnings. All the beauties of the land were
assembled in those galleries, while below pranced plumed
knights with their pages and esquires, among whom figured
conspicuously the princes who were to contend in the tourney.
All the beauties of the land, however, were eclipsed, when the
princess Aldegonda appeared in the royal pavilion, and for
the first time broke forth upon the gaze of an admiring world.
A murmur of wonder ran through the crowd at her transcend-
ant loveliness ; and the princes who were candidates for her
hand merely on the faith of her reported charms, now felt ten
fold ardour for the conflict.
The princess, however, had a troubled look. The colour
came and went from her cheek, and her eye wandered with a
restless and unsatisfied expression over the plumed throng of
knights. The trumpets were about sounding for the encounter
when a herald announced the arrival of a stranger knight, and
Ahmed rode into the field. A steeled helmet studded with
gems rose above his turban; his cuirass was embossed with
gold ; his scimitar and dagger were of the workmanship of
Fay, and flamed with precious stones. A round shield was at
his shoulder, and in his hand he bore the lance of charmed
virtue. The caparison of his Arabian was richly embroidered,
arid swept the ground; and the proud animal pranced and
snuffed the air, and neighed with joy at once more beholding
tho array of arms. The lofty and graceful demeanour of the
150 THE ALHAMBRA.
prince struck every eye, and when his appellation w an
nouKced, " The pilgrim of love," a universal flutter and agita
tion prevailed amongst the fair dames in the galleries.
When Ahmed presented himself at the lists, however, thej
were closed against him ; none but princes, he was told, were
admitted to the contest. He declared his name and rank. Still
worse, he was a Moslem, and could not engage in a tourney
where the hand of a Christian princess was the prize.
The rival princes surrounded him with haughty and men'
acing aspects, and one of insolent demeanour and Herculean
frame sneered at his light and youthful form, and scoft'ed at
his amorous appellation. The ire of the prince was roused ; he
defied his rival to the encounter. They took distance, wheeled,
and charged ; at the first touch of the magic lance the brawny
scoffer was tilted from his saddle. Here the prince would have
paused, but alas ! he had to deal with a demoniac horse and
armor: once in action, nothing could control them. The
Arabian steed charged into the thickest of the throng: the
lance overturned every thing that presented; the gentle prince
was carried pell-mell about the field, strewing it with high and
low, gentle and simple, and grieving at his own involuntary
exploits. The king stormed and raged at this outrage on his
subjects and his guests. He ordered out all his guards they
were unhorsed as fast as they came up. The king threw off his
robes, grasped buckler and lance, and rode forth to awe the
stranger with the presence of majesty itself. Alas, majesty
fared no better than the vulgar; the steed and lance were no
respecters of persons; to the dismay of Ahmed, he was borne
full tilt against the king, and in a moment the royal heels were
in the air, and the crown was rolling in the dust.
At this moment the sun reached the meridian; the magic
pell resumed its power. The Arabian steed scoured across the
plain, leaped the barrier, plunged into the Tagus, swam its
raging current, bore the prince, breathless and amazed, to the
cavern, and resumed his station like a statue beside the iron
table. The prince dismounted right gladly, and replaced the
armor, to abide the further decrees of fate. Then seating him
self in the cavern, he ruminated on the desperate state to
which this bedeviled [steed and armor had reduced him.
Never should he dare to show his face at Toledo, after inflict
ing such disgrace upon its chivalry, and such an outrage on
its king. "What, too, would the princess think of so rude and
riotous an achievement! Full of anxiety, he sent forth hii
winged messengers to gather tidings. The parrot resorted to
all the public places and crowded resorts of the city, and
soon returned with a world of gossip. All Toledo was in con
sternation. The princess had been borne off senseless to the
palace ; the tournament had ended in confusion ; every one was
talking of the sudden apparition, prodigious exploits, and
strange disappearance of the Moslem knight. Some pro
nounced him a Moorish magician ; others thought him a demon
who had assumed a human shape ; while others related tradi
tions of enchanted warriors hidden in the caves of the moun
tains, and thought it might be one of these, who had made a
sudden irruption from his den. All agreed that no mere ordi
nary mortal could have wrought such wonders, or unhorsed
such accomplished and stalwart Christian warriors.
The owl flew forth at night, and hovered about the dusky
city, perching on the roofs and chimneys. He then wheeled
his flight up to the royal palace, which stood on the rocky
summit of Toledo, and went prowling about its terraces and
battlements, eaves-dropping at every cranny, and glaring in
with his big goggling eyes at every window where there was a
light, so as to throw two or three maids of honour into fits. It
was not until the gray dawn began to peer above the moun
tains that he returned from his mousing expedition, and re
lated to the prince what he had seen.
" As I was prying about one of the loftiest towers of the pal
ace," said he, "I beheld through a casement a beautiful prin
cess. She was reclining on a couch, with attendants and phy
sicians around her, but she would none of their ministry and
relief. When they retired, I beheld her draw forth a letter
from her bosom, and read, and kiss it, and give way to loud
lamentations; at which, philosopher as I am, I could not but
be greatly moved."
The tender heart of Ahmed was distressed at these tidings.
" Too true were thy words, oh sage Ebon Bonabbon !" cried he.
"Care and sorrow, and sleepless nights are the lot of lovers.
Allah preserve the princess from the blighting influence of this
thing called love."
Further intelligence from Toledo corroborated the report of
the owl. The city was a prey to uneasiness and alarm. The
princess was conveyed to the highest tower of the palace, everj
avenue to which was strongly guarded. In the mean time, a
devouring melancholy had seized upon her, of which no one
could divine the cause. S.he refused food, and turned a deaf
152 THE ALI1AMBRA.
ear to every consolation. The most skilful physicians had es
sayed their art in vain ; it was thought some magic spell had
been practised upon her, and the king made proclamation, de
claring that whoever should effect her cure, should receive the
richest jewel in the royal treasury.
When the owl, who was dozing in a corner, heard of this
proclamation, he rolled his large eyes and looked more mys
terious than ever.
"Allah Achbar!" exclaimed he. "Happy the man that
shall effect that cure, should he but know what to choose from
the royal treasury."
"What mean you, most reverend owl?" said Ahmed.
' Hearken, prince, to what I shall relate. We owls, you
must know, are a learned body, and much given to dark and
dusty research. During my late prowling at night about the
domes and turrets of Toledo, I discovered a college of antiqua
rian owls, who hold their meetings in a great vaulted tower
where the royal treasure is deposited. Here they were discuss
ing the forms and inscriptions, and designs of ancient gems and
jewels, and of golden and silver vessels, heaped up in the trea
sury, the fashion of every country and age : but mostly they
were interested about certain reliques and talismans, that have
remained in the treasury since the time of Roderick the Goth.
Among these, was a box of shittim wood, secured by bands of
steel of oriental workmanship, and inscribed with mystic
characters known only to the learned few. This box and its
inscription had occupied the college for several sessions, and
had caused much long and grave dispute. At the tune of my
visit, a very ancient owl, who had recently arrived from Egypt,
was seated on the lid of the box lecturing upon the inscription,
and proved from it, that the coffer contained the silken carpet
of the throne of Solomon the wise : which doubtless had been
brought to Toledo by the Jews, who took refuge there after the
downfall of Jerusalem."
When the owl had concluded his antiquarian harangue, the
prince remained for a time absorbed in thought. "I have
heard," said he, "from the sage Ebon Bonabbon, of the won
derful properties of that talisman, which disappeared at the
fall of Jerusalem, and was supposed to be lost to mankind.
Doubtless it remains a sealed mystery to the Christians of
Toledo. If I can get possession of that carpet, my fortune is
secure."
The next day the prince laid aside his rich attire, and ar-
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 153
rayed himself in the simple garb of an Arab of the desert. He
dyed his complexion to a tawny hue, and no one could have
recognized in him the splendid warrior who had caused such
admiration and dismay at the tournament. With staff in
hand and scrip by his side, and a small pastoral reed, he re
paired to Toledo, and presenting himself at the gate of the
royal palace, announced himself as a candidate for the reward
offered for the cure of the princess, The guards would have
driven him away with blows : ' ' What can a vagrant Arab like
thyself pretend to do," said they, "in a case where the most
learned of the land have failed?" The king, however, over
heard the tumult, and ordered the Arab to be brought into his
presence.
"Most potent king," said Ahmed, " you behold before you a
Bedouin Arab, the greater part of whose life has been passed
in the solitudes of the desert. Those solitudes, it is well
known, are the haunts of demons and evil spirits, who beset
us poor shepherds in our lonely watchings, enter into and pos
sess our flocks and herds, and sometimes render even the
patient camel furious. Against these, our countercharm is
music ; and we have legendary airs handed down from genera
tion to generation, that we chant and pipe to cast forth these
evil spirits. I am of a gifted line, and possess this power in its
fullest force. If it be any evil influence of the kind that holds
a spell over thy daughter, I pledge my head to free her from
its sway."
The king, who was a man of understanding, and knew the
wonderful secrets possessed by the Arabs, was inspired with
hope by the confident language of the prince. He conducted
him immediately to the lofty tower secured by several doors,
in the summit of which was the chamber of the princess. The
windows opened upon a terrace with balustrades, commanding
a view over Toledo and all the surrounding country. The win
dows were darkened, for the princess lay within, a prey to a
devouring grief that refused all alleviation.
The prince seated himself on the terrace, and performed sev
eral wild Arabian airs on his pastoral pipe, which he had learnt
from his attendants in the Generaliffe at Granada. The prin
cess continued insensible, and the doctors, who were present,
shook their heads, and smiled with incredibility and contempt.
At length the prince laid aside the reed, and to a simple melody
chanted the amatory verses of the letter which had declared
his passion.
164 THE ALIIAMBRA.
The princess recognized the strain. A fluttering joy stole to
her heart ; she raised her head and listened ; tears rushed to
her eyee and streamed down her cheeks ; her bosom rose and
fell with a tumult of emotions. She would have asked for the
minstrel te be brought into her presence, but maiden coyness
held her silent. The king read her wishes, and at his com
mand Ahmed was conducted into the chamber. The lovers
were discreet : they but exchanged glances, yet those glances
spoke volumes. Never was triumph of music more complete.
The rose had returned to the soft cheek of the princess, the
freshness to her lip, and the dewy light to her languishing eye.
All the physicians present stared at each other with aston
ishment. The king regarded the Arab minstrel with admira
tion, mixt with awe. "Wonderful youth," exclaimed he,
"thou shalt henceforth be the first physician of my court,
and no other prescription will I take but thy melody. For the
present, receive thy reward, the most precious jewel in my
treasury."
"O king," replied Ahmed, " I care not for silver, or gold, or
precious stones. One relique hast thou in thy treasury, handed
down from the Moslems who once owned Toledo. A box of
sandal wood containing a silken carpet. Give me that box,
and I am content."
All present were surprised at the moderation of the Arab,
and still more, when the box of sandal wood was brought and
the carpet drawn forth. It was of fine green silk, covered
with Hebrew and Chaldaic characters. The court physicians
looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and smiled at
the simplicity of this new practitioner, who could be content
with so paltry a fee.
" This carpet," said the prince, " once covered the throne of
Solomon the wise ; it is worthy of being placed beneath the feet
of beauty. "
So saying, he spread it on the terrace beneath an ottoman
that had been brought forth for the princess; then seating
himself at her feet,
"Who," said he, "shall counteract what is written in the
book of fate? Behold the prediction of the astrologers verified.
Know, oh king, that your daughter and I have long loved each
other in secret. Behold in me the pilgrim of love."
These words were scarcely from his lips, when the carpet
rose in the air, bearing off the prince and princess. The king
ftnd the physicians gazed after it with open mouths and strain-
LEGEND OF PRINCE AHMED AL KAMEL. 355
ing eyes, until it became a little speck on the white bosom of a
cloud, and then disappeared in the blue vault of heaven.
The king in a rage summoned his treasurer. " How is this,"
said he, ' ' that thou hast suffered an infidel to get possession ol
such a talisman?"
"Alas! sire, we knew not its nature, nor could we decipher
the inscription of the box. If it be indeed the carpet of the
throne of the wise Solomon, it is possessed of magic power,
and can transport its owner from place to place through the
air."
The king assembled a mighty army, and set off for Granada
in pursuit of the fugitives. His march was long and toilsome.
Encamping in the Vega, he sent a herald to demand restitu
tion of his daughter. The king himself came forth with all
his court to meet him. In the king, he beheld the Arab min
strel, for Ahmed had succeeded to the throne on the death ol
his father, and the beautiful Aldegonda was his Sultana.
The Christian king was easily pacified, when he found that
his daughter was suffered to continue in her faith : not that he
was particularly pious ; but religion is always a point of pride
and etiquette with princes. Instead of bloody battles, there
was a succession of feasts and rejoicings ; after which, the king
returned well pleased to Toledo, and the youthful couple con
tinued to reign as happily as wisely, in the Alhambra.
It is proper to add, that the owl and the parrot had severally
followed the prince by easy stages to Granada: the former
travelling by night, and stopping at the various hereditary
possessions of his family ; the latter figuring in the gay circles
of every town and city on his route.
Ahmed gratefully requited the services which they had ren
dered him on his pilgrimage. He appointed the owl his prime
minister ; the parrot his master of ceremonies. It is needles?
to say that never was a realm more sagely administered, or 9
court conducted with more exact punctilio.
THE ALHAMBRA.
THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA -
OR,
THE PAGE AND THE GER-FALCON.
FOR some time after the surrender of Granada by the Moors,
that delightful city was a frequent and favourite residence of
the Spanish sovereigns, until they were frightened away by
successive shocks of earthquakes, which toppled down various
.houses and made the old Moslem towers rock to their, founda
tion.
Many, many years then rolled away, during which Granada
was rarely honoured by a royal guest. The palaces of the
nobility remained silent and shut up ; and the Alhambra, like
a slighted boauty, sat in mournful desolation among her
neglected gardens. The tower of the Infantas, once the resi
dence of the three beautiful Moorish princesses, partook of the
general desolation ; and the spider spun her web athwart the
gilded vault, and bats and owls nestled in those chambers that
had been graced by the presence of Zayda, Zorayda, and Zora-
hayda. The neglect of the tower may partly have been owing
to some superstitious notions of the neighbours. It was
rumoured that the spirit of the youtliful Zorahayda, who had
perished in that tower, was often seen by moonlight, seated
beside the fountain in the hall, or moaning about the battle
ments, and that the notes of her silver lute would be heard at
midnight by wayfarers passing along the glen.
At length the city of Granada was once more enli vened by
the royal presence. All the world knows that Philip V. was
the first Bourbon that swayed the Spanish sceptre. All the
wx>rld knows that he married, in second nuptials, Elizabetta or
Isabella, (for they are the same,) the beautiful princess of Par
ma; and all the world knows, that by this chain of contingen
cies, a French prince and an Italian princess were seated to
gether on the Spanish throne. For the reception of this illustri
ous pair, the Alhambra was repaired and fitted up with all pos
sible expedition. The arrival of the court changed the whole
aspect of the lately deserted place. The clangour of drum and
trumpet, the tramp of steed about the avenues and outer
THE LEGEND OF THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 157
court, the glitter of arms and display of banners about barbi
can and battlement, recalled the ancient and warlike glories of
the fortress. A softer spirit, however, reigned within the royal
palace. There was the rustling of robes, and the cautious
tread and murmuring voice of reverential courtiers about the
antechambers ; a loitering of pages and maids of honour about
the gardens, and the sound of music stealing from open case
ments.
Among those who attended in the train of the monarchs, was
a favourite page of the queen, named Kuyz de Alarcon. To
say that he was a favourite page of the queen, was at once to
speak his eulogiuni, for every one in the suite of the stately
Elizabetta was chosen for grace, and beauty, and accomplish
ments. He was just turned of eighteen, light and little of
form, and graceful as a young Antinous. To the queen he was
all deference and respect, yet he was at heart a roguish strip
ling, petted and spoiled by the ladies about the court, and
experienced in the ways of women far beyond his years.
This loitering page was one morning rambling about the
groves of the Generaliffe, which overlook the grounds of the
Alhambra. He had taken with him for his amusement, a
favourite ger-f alcon of the queen. In the course of his rambles,
seeing a bird rising from a thicket, he unhooded the hawk and
let him fly. The falcon towered high in the air, made a swoop
at his quarry, but missing it, soared away regardless of the calls
of the page. The latter followed the truant bird with his eye
in its capricious flight, until he saw it alight upon the battle
ments of a remote and lonely tower, in the outer wall of the
Alhambra, built on the edge of a ravine that separated the
royal fortress from the grounds of the Generalise. It was, in
fact, the " tower of the Princesses."
The page descended into the ravine, and approached the
tower, but it had no entrance from the glen, and its lofty height
rendered any attempt to scale it fruitless. Seeking one of the
gates of the fortress, therefore, he made a wide circuit to that
side of the tower facing within the walls. A small garden en
closed by a trellis- work of reeds overhung with myrtle lay before
the tower. Opening a wicket, the page passed between beds oi
flowers and thickets of roses to the door. It was closed and
bolted. A crevice in the door gave him a peep into the interior.
There was a small Moorish hall with fretted walls, light mar-
ble columns, and an alabaster fountain surrounded with flow
era. In the centre hung^a. gilt cage containing a singing bird;
158 THE ALHAMBRA.
beneath it, on a ohair, lay a tortoise-shell cat among reels of
silk and other articles of female labour, and a guitar, decorated
with ribands, leaned against the fountain.
Ruyz de Alarcon was struck with these traces of female
taste and elegance in a lonely, and, as he had supposed,
deserted tower. They reminded him of the tales of enchanted
halls, current in the Alhambra; and the tortoise-shell cat
might be some spell-bound princess.
He knocked gently at the door, a beautiful face peeped out
from a little window above, but was instantly withdrawn. He
waited, expecting that the door would be opened; but he
waited in vain: no footstep was to be heard within, all was
silent. Had his senses deceived him, or was this beautiful ap
parition the fairy of the tower? He knocked again, and more
loudly. After a little while, the beaming face once more
peeped forth : it was that of a blooming damsel of fifteen.
The page immediately doffed his plumed bonnet, and
entreated in the most courteous accents to be permitted to
ascend the tower in pursuit of his falcon.
" I dare not open the door, Senor," replied the little damsel,
blushing; " my aunt has forbidden it."
"I do beseech you, fair maid; it is the favourite falcon of
the queen; I dare not return to the palace without it."
"Are you, then, one of the cavaliers of the court?"
" I am, fair maid ; but I shall lose the queen's favour and my
place if I lose this hawk."
"Santa Maria! It is against you cavaliers of the court that
my aunt has charged me especially to bar the door."
"Against wicked cavaliers, doubtless; but I am none of
those, but a simple, harmless page, who will be ruined and
undone if you deny me this small request."
The heart of the little damsel was touched by the distress of
the page. It was a thousand pities he should be ruined for the
want of so trifling a boon. Surely, too, he could not be one of
those dangerous beings whom her aunt had described as a spe
cies of cannibal, ever on the prowl to make prey of thought
less damsels ; he was gentle and modest, and stood so entreat-
ingly with cap in hand, and looked so charming. The sly page
saw that the garrison began to waver, and redoubled his
entreaties in such moving terms, that it was not in the nature
of mortal maiden to deny him ; so, the blushing little warder
of the tower descended and opened the door with a trembling
band ; and if the page had been charmed by a mere glimpse of
THE LEGEND OF THE UOSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 159
her countenance from the window, he was ravished by the
full-length portrait now revealed to him.
Her Andalusian bodice and trim basquina set off the round
but delicate symmetry of her form, which was as yet scarce
verging into womanhood. Her glossy hair was parted on her
forehead with scrupulous exactness, and decorated with a
fresh plucked rose, according to the universal custom of the
country.
It is true, her complexion was tinged by the ardour of a
southern sun, but it served to give richness to the mantling
bloom of her cheek, and to heighten the lustre of her melting
eyes.
Ruyz de Alarcon beheld all this with a single glance, for it
became him not to tarry ; he merely murmured his acknow
ledgments, and then bounded lightly up the spiral staircase in
quest of his falcon. He soon returned with the truant bird
upon his fist. The damsel, in the mean time, had seated her
self by the fountain in the hall, and was winding silk ; but in
her agitation she let fall the reel upon the pavement. The
page sprang, picked it up, then dropping gracefully on one
knee, presented it to her, but, seizing the hand extended to
receive it, imprinted on it a kiss more fervent and devout
than he had ever imprinted on the fair hand of his sovereign.
"Ave Maria! Sefior!" exclaimed the damsel, blushing still
deeper with confusion and surprise, for never before had she
receive such a salutation.
The modest page made a thousand apologies, assuring her it
was the way, at court, of expressing the most profound hom
age and respect.
Her anger, if anger she felt, was easily pacified; but her
agitation and embarrassment continued, and she sat blushing
deeper and deeper, with her eyes cast down upon her work,
entangling the silk which she attempted to wind.
The cunning page saw the confusion in the opposite camp,
and would fain have profited by it, but the fine speeches he
would have uttered died upon his lips ; his attempts at gal
lantry were awkward and ineffectual : and, to his surprise, the
adroit page who had figured Avith such grace and effrontery
among the most knowing and experienced ladies of the court,
found himself awed and abashed in the presence of a simple
damsel of fifteen.
In fact, the artless maiden, in her own modesty and inno
cence, had guardians more effectual than the bolts and bars
160 T1IK M.11AUBRA.
prescribed by her vigilant aunt. Still, where ie the female
bosom proof against the first whisperings of love? The little
damsel, with all her artlessness, instinctively comprehended all
that the faltering tongue of the page failed to express, and her
heart was fluttered at beholding, for the first time, a lover at
her feet and such a lover !
The diffidence of the page, though genuine, was short-lived,
and he was recovering his usual ease and confidence, when a
shrill voice was heard at a distance.
"My aunt is returning from mass!" cried the damsel in
affright. "I pray you, Senor, depart."
" Not until you grant me that rose from your hair as a re
membrance."
She hastily untwisted the rose from her raven locks. "Take
it," cried she, agitated and blushing, "but pray begone."
The page took the rose, and at the same time covered with
kisses the fair hand that gave it. Then placing the flower in
his bonnet, and taking the falcon upon his fist, he bounded off
through the garden, bearing away with him the heart of the
gentle Jacinta.
When the vigilant aunt arrived at the tower, she remarked
the agitation of her niece, and an air of confusion in the hall ;
but a word of explanation sufficed. "A ger-ialcon had pur
sued his prey into the hall."
" Mercy on us! To think of a falcon flying into the tower.
Did ever one hear of so saucy a hawk? Why, the very bird in
the cage is not safe."
The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of
ancient spinsters. She had a becoming terror and distrust of
what she denominated "the opposite sex," which had gradu
ally increased through a long life of celibacy. Not that the
good lady had ever suffered from their wiles ; nature having
sot up a safeguard in her face, that forbade all trespass upon
her premises ; but ladies who have least cause to fear for them
selves, are most ready to keep a watch over their more tempt
ing neighbours. The niece was the orphan of an officer who
had fallen in the wars. She had been educated in a convent,
and had recently been transferred from her sacred asylum to
the immediate guardianship of her aunt; under whoso over
shadowing care she vegetated in obscurity, like an opening
rose blooming beneath a briar. Nor, indeed, is this comparison
entirely accidental, for to tell the truth her fresh and dawnir-o?
beauty had caught the pjublir. eye, even in her seclusion, auu.
THE LEGEXD OF THE ROSE OF THE ALRAMBRA. IQ]
with that poetical turn common to the people of Andalusia,
the peasantry of the neighbourhood had given her the appella<
tion of " The Eose of the Alhambra."
The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch over hen
tempting little niece as long as the court continued at Granada,
and flattered herself that her vigilance had been successful. It
is true, the good lady was now and then discomposed by the
tinkling of guitars, and chanting of love ditties from the moon
lit groves beneath the tower, but she would exhort her niece
to shut her ears against such idle minstrelsy, assuring her
that it was one of the arts of the opposite sex, by which simple
maids were often lured to their undoing ; alas, what chance
with a simple maid has a dry lecture against a moonlight
serenade !
At length king Philip cut short his sojourn at Granada, and
suddenly departed with all his train. The vigilant Fredegonda
watched the royal pageant as it issued forth from the gate of
Justice, and descended the great avenue leading to the city.
When the last banner disappeared from her sight, she re
turned exulting to her tower, for all her cares were over. To
her surprise, a light Arabian steed pawed the ground at the
wicket gate of the garden to her horror she saw through the
thickets of roses, a youth, in gaily embroidered dress, at the
feet of her niece. At the sound of her footsteps he gave a
tender adieu, bounded lightly over the barrier of reeds and
myrtles, sprang upon his horse, and was out of sight in an in-*
stant.
The tender Jacinta in the agony of her grief lost all thought
of her aunt's displeasure. Throwing herself into her arms, she
broke forth into sobs and tears.
"Ay di mi!" cried she, "he is gone! he is gone! and I shall
never see him more."
"Gone! who is gone? what youth is this I saw at your feet?"
"A queen's page, aunt, who came to bid me farewell."
"A queen's page, child," echoed the vigilant Fredegonda
faintly, " and when did you become acquainted with a queen's
page?"
" The morning that the ger-falcon flew into the tower. It
was the queen's ger-falcon, and he came in pursuit of it."
"Ah, silly, silly girl! know that there are no ger-falcons
half so dangerous as these prankling pages, and it is precisely
such simple birds as thee that they pounce upon."
The aunt was at first indi<?rr.nt at learning that, in despite
ALBAMBRA.
of hor boasted vigilance, a tender intercourse had been carriea
on by the youthful lovers, almost beneath her eye ; but when
she found that her simple-hearted niece, though thus exposed,
without the protection of bolt or bar, to all the machinations
of the opposite sex, had come forth unsinged from the fiery
ordeal, she consoled herself with the persuasion that it was
owing to the chaste and cautious maxims in which she had, aa
it were, steeped her to the very lips.
While the aunt laid this soothing unction to her pride, the
niece treasured up the oft-repeated vows of fidelity of the page.
But what is the love of restless, roving man? a vagrant stream
that dallies for a time with each flower upon its banks, then
passes on and leaves them all in tears.
Days, weeks, months elapsed, and nothing more was heard
of the page. The pomegranate ripened, the vine yielded up its
fruit, the autumnal rains descended in torrents from the
mountains ; the Sierra Nevada became covered with a snowy
mantle, and wintry blasts howled through the halls of the Al-
hambra : still he came not. The winter passed away. Again
the genial spring burst forth with song, and blossoms, and
balmy zephyr; the snows melted from the mountains, until
none remained, but on the lofty summit of the Nevada, glisten
ing through the sultry summer air: still nothing was heard of
the forgetful page.
In the mean time, the poor little Jacinta grew pale and
thoughtful. Her former occupations and amusements were
abandoned; her silk lay entangled, her guitar unstrung, her
flowers were neglected, the notes of her bird unheeded, and
her eyes, once so bright, were dimmed with secret weeping.
If any solitude could be devised to foster the passion of a love
lorn damsel, it would be such a place as the Alhambra, where
every thing seems disposed to produce tender and romantic
reveries. It is a very Paradise for lovers ; how hard then to be
alone in such a Paradise; and not merely alone, but for
saken.
41 Alas, silly child!" would the staid and immaculate Frede-
gonda say, when she found her niece in one of her desponding
moods, "did I not warn thee against the wiles and deceptions
of these men? What couldst thou expect, too, from one of a
haughty and aspiring family, thou, an orphan, the descendant
of a fallen and impoverished line; be assured, if the youth
were true, his father, who is one of the proudest nobles about
the court, would prohibit bis union with one so humble and
THE LEGEND OP THE ROSE Of THE ALHAMBRA 103
portionless as thou. Pluck up thy resolution, therefore, and
drive these idle notions from thy mind."
The words of the immaculate Fredegonda only served to in
crease the melancholy of her niece, but she sought to indulge
it in private. At a late hour one midsummer night, after her
aunt had retired to rest, she remained alone in the hall of the
tower, seated beside the alabaster fountain. It was here that
the faithless page had first knelt and kissed her hand, it was
here that he had often vowed eternal fidelity. The poor little
damsel's heart was overladen with sad and tender recollections,
her tears began to flow, and slowly fell, drop by drop, into the
fountain. By degrees the crystal water became agitated, and,
bubble bubble bubble, boiled up, and was tossed about until
a female figure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly rose to
view.
Jacinta was so frightened, that she fled from the hall, and
did not venture to return. The next morning, she related
what she had seen to her aunt, but the good lady treated it as
a fantasy of her troubled mind, or supposed she had fallen
asleep and dreamt beside the fountain. "Thou hast been
thinking of the story of the three Moorish princesses that once
inhabited the tower," continued she, "and it has entered into
thy dreams."
"What story, aunt? I know nothing of it."
"Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, Zayda,
Zorayda, and Zorahayda, who were confined in this tower by
the king their father, and agreed to fly with three Christian
cavaliers. The first two accomplished their escape, but the
third failed in resolution and remained, and it is said died in
this tower."
" I now recollect to have heard of it," said Jacinta, "and to
have wept over the fate of the gentle Zorahayda."
" Thou mayst well weep over her fate," continued the aunt,
"for the lover of Zorahayda was thy ancestor. He long be
moaned his Moorish love, but time cured him of his grief, and
he married a Spanish lady, from whom thou art descended."
Jacinta ruminated upon these words. ' ' That what I have
seen is no fantasy of the brain," said she to herself, "I am con
fident. If indeed it be the sprite of the gentle Zorahayda,
which I have heard lingers about this tower, of what should I
ke afraid? I'll watch by the fountain to-night, perhaps the
visit will be repeated."
Towards midnight, when every thing was quiet, she again
164 THE ALIIAMBRA.
took her seat in the hall. As the bell on the distant watch
tower of the Alhambra struck the midnight hour, the fountain
was again agitated, and bubble bubble bubble, it tossed
about the waters until the Moorish female again rose to view.
She was young and beautiful ; her dress was rich with jewels,
and in her hand she held a silver lute. Jacinta trembled and
was faint, but was reassured by the soft and plaintive voice
of the apparition, and the sweet expression of her pale melan
choly countenance.
"Daughter of Mortality," said she, " what aileth chee? Why
do thy tears trouble my fountain, and thy sighs and plaints
disturb the quiet watches of the night?"
" I weep because of the faithlessness of man; and I bemoan
tny solitary and forsaken state."
"Take comfort, thy sorrows may yet have an end. Thou
beholdest a Moorish princess, who, like thee, was unhappy in
her love. A Christian knight, thy ancestor, won my heart,
and would have borne me to his native land, and to the bosom
of his church. I was a convert in my heart, but I lacked cour
age equal to my faith, and lingered till too late. For this, the
evil genii are permitted to have power over me, and I remain
enchanted in this tower, until some pure Christian will deign
to break the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task?"
" I will 1" replied the damsel, trembling.
" Come hither, then, and fear not: dip thy hand in the foun
tain, sprinkle the water over me, and baptize me after the
manner of thy faith ; so shall the enchantment be dispelled,
and my troubled spirit have repose."
The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped her hand
in the fountain, collected water in the palm, and sprinkled it
over the pale face of the phantom.
The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She dropped her
silver lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white arms upon
her bosom, and melted from sight, so that it seemed merely as
'i a shower of dewdrops had fallen into the fountain.
Jacinta retired from the hall, filled with awe and wonder.
Bhe scarcely closed her eyes that night, but when she awoke
fct daybreak out of a troubled slumber, the whole appeared to
her like a distempered dream. On descending into the hall,
however, the truth of the vision was established; for, beside
Ihe fountain she beheld the silver lute glittering in the morn-
bg sunshine.
She hastened to her aunt, related all that had befallen her
THE LEGEND OF THK KOHK OF THE, ALHAMBRA. 166
and called her to behold the lute as a testimonial of the reality
of her story. If the good lady had any lingering doubts, they
were removed when Jacinta touched the instrument, for sh
drew forth such ravishing tones as to thaw even the frigid
bosom of the immaculate Fredegonda, that region of eternal
winter, into a genial flow. Nothing but supernatural melody
could have produced such an effect.
The extraordinary power of the lute became every day more
and more apparent. The wayfarer passing by the tower waa
detained, and, as it were, spell-bound, in breathless ecstasy.
The very birds gathered in the neighbouring trees, and, hush
ing their own strains, listened in charmed silence. Rumour
soon spread the news abroad. The inhabitants of Granada
thronged to the Alhambra, to catch a few notes of the
transcendent music that floated about the tower of Las In
fantas.
The lovely little minstrel was at length drawn forth from
her retreat. The rich and powerful of the land contended who
should entertain and do honour to her ; or rather, who should
secure the charms of her lute, to draw fashionable throngs to
their saloons. Wherever she went, her vigilant aunt kept a
dragon-watch at her elbow, awing the throngs of impassioned
admirers who hung in raptures on her strains. The report
of her wonderful powers spread from city to city: Malaga,
Seville, Cordova, all became successively mad on the theme;
nothing was talked of throughout Andalusia, but the beauti
ful minstrel of the Alhambra. How could it be otherwise
among a people so musical and gallant as the Andalusians,
when the lute was magical in its powers, and the minstrel
inspired by love.
While all Andalusia was thus music-mad, a different mood
prevailed at the court of Spain. Philip V., as is well known,
was a miserable hypochondriac, and subject to all kinds of
fancies. Sometimes he would keep to his bed for weeks
together, groaning under imaginary complaints. At other
times he would insist upon abdicating his throne, to the
great annoyance of his royal spouse, who had a strong relish
for the splendours of a court and the glories of a crown, and
guided the sceptre of her imbecile lord with an expert and
steady hand.
Nothing was found to be so eflBcacious in dispelling the
royal megrims as the powers of music; the queen took
care, therefore, to have t*> V*>t nAT-formers, both vocal and
166 THE ALEAMBRA.
instrumental, at hand, and retained the famous Italian singei
Farinelli about the court as a kind of royal physician.
At the moment we treat of, however, a freak had come ovei
the mind of this sapient and illustrious Bourbon, that sur^
passed all former vagaries. After a long spell of imaginary
illness, which set all the strains of Farinelli, and the consul
tations of a whole orchestra of court fiddlers, at defiance, the
monarch fairly, in idea, gave up the ghost, and considered
himself absolutely dead.
This would have been harmless enough, and even convenient
both to his queen and courtiers, had he been content to remain
in the quietude befitting a dead man ; but, to their annoyance,
he insisted upon having the funeral ceremonies performed
over him, and, to their inexpressible perplexity, began to
grow impatient, and to revile bitterly at them for negli
gence and disrespect in leaving him unburied. What was to
be done? To disobey the king's positive commands was
monstrous in the eyes ot the obsequious courtiers of a punc
tilious court, but to obey him, and bury him alive, would be
downright regicide !
In the midst of this fearful dilemma, a rumour reached the
court of the female minstrel, who was turning the brains of all
Andalusia. The queen despatched missives in all haste, to
Bummon her to St. Udefonso, where the court at that time
resided.
Within a few days, as the queen with her maids of honour
was walking in those stately gardens, intended, with their
avenues, and terraces, and fountains, to eclipse the glories of
Versailles, the far-famed minstrel was conducted into her
presence. The imperial Elizabetta gazed with surprise at the
youthful and unpretending appearance of the little being that
had set the world madding. She was in her picturesque
lAndalusian dress; her silver lute was in her hand, and she
Stood with modest and downcast eyes, but with a simplicity
and freshness of beauty that still bespoke her "The Rose of
the Alhambra."
As usual, she was accompanied by the ever vigilant Frede
gonda, who gave the whole history of her parentage and
descent to the inquiring queen. If the stately Elizabetta
had been interested by the appearance of Jacinta, bhe wa
3till more pleased when she learnt that she was of a meri
torious, though impoverished line, and that her father had
gravely fallen in the srvice of the crcwn. "If thy powers
THE LEGEND OP THE ROSE OF THE ALHAMBRA. 167
equal their renown," said she, "and thou canst cast forth this
evil spirit that possesses thy sovereign, thy fortune shall
henceforth be my care, and honours and wealth attend thee."
Impatient to make trial of her skill, she led the way at once
to the apartment of the moody monarch. Jacinta followed
with downcast eyes through files of guards and crowds of
courtiers. They arrived at length at a great chamber hung in
black. The windows were closed, to exclude the light of day ;
a number of yellow wax tapers, in silver sconces, diffused a
lugubrious light, and dimly revealed the figures of mutes in
mourning dresses, and courtiers, who glided about with noise
less step and woe-begone visage. On the midst of a funeral
bed or bier, his hands folded on his breast, and the tip of his
nose just visible, lay extended this would-be-buried monarch.
The queen entered the chamber in silence, and, pointing to a
footstool in an obscure comer, beckoned to Jacinta to sit down
and commence.
At first she touched her lute with a faltering hand, but
gathering confidence and animation as she proceeded, drew
forth such soft, aerial harmony, that all present could scarce
believe it mortal. As to the monarch, who had already con
sidered himself in the world of spirits, he set it down for some
angelic melody, or the music of the spheres. By degrees the
theme was varied, and the voice of the minstrel accompanied
the instrument* She poured forth one of the legendary bal
lads treating of the ancient glories of the Alhambra, and the
achievements of the Moors. Her whole soul entered into the
theme, for with the recollections of the Albambra was associ
ated the story of her love ; the funereal chamber resounded
with the animating strain. It entered into the gloomy heart
of the monarch. He raised his head and gazed around ; he sat
up on his couch ; his eye began to kindle ; at length, leaping
upon the floor, he called for sword and buckler.
The triumph of music, or rather of the enchanted lute, was
complete ; the demon of melancholy was cast forth ; and, as it
were, a dead man brought to life. The windows of the apart
ment were thrown open ; the 'glorious effulgence of Spanish
sunshine burst into the late lugubrious chamber; all eyes
sought the lovely enchantress, but the lute had fallen from her
hand ; she had sunk upon the earth, and the next moment was
clasped to the bosom of Ruyz de Alarcon.
The nuptials of the happy couple were shortly after celebrated
vith great splendour, but hold. I hear the reader ask how did
163 THE ALHAMBRA.
Ruyz de Alarcon account for his long neglect? Oh, that waa
all owing to the opposition of a proud pragmatical old father,
besides, young people, who really like one another, soon come
to an amicable understanding, and bury all past grievances
whenever they meet.
But how was the proud pragmatical old father reconciled to
the match?
Oh, his scruples were easily overruled by a word or two from
the queen, especially as dignities and rewards were showered
upon the blooming favourite of royalty. Besides, the lute of
Jacinta, you know, possessed a magic power, and could con
trol the most stubborn head and hardest heart.
And what became of the enchanted lute?
Oh, that is the most curious matter of all, and plainly proves
the truth of all the story. That lute remained for some time
in the family, but was purloined and carried off, as was sup
posed, by the great singer Farinelli, in pure jealousy. At his
death it passed into other hands in Italy, who were ignorant of
its mystic powers, and melting down the silver, transferred tha
strings to an old Cremona fiddle. The strings still retain some
thing of their magic virtues. A word in the reader's ear, but
let it go no further, that fiddle is now bewitching the whole
world, it is the fiddle of Paganini !
THE VETERAN.
AMONG the curious acquaintances I have made in my rambles
about the fortress, is a brave and battered old Colonel of In
valids, who is nestled like a hawk in one of the Moorish towers.
His history, which he is fond of telling, is a tissue of those
adventures, mishaps, and vicissitudes that render the life of
almost every Spaniard of note as varied and whimsical as tho
pages of Gil Bias.
He was in America at twelve years of age, and reckons
among the most signal and fortunate events of his lif e, his hav
ing seen General Washington. Since then he has taken a part
in all the wars of his country; he can speak experimentally of
most of the prisons and dungeons of the Peninsula, has been
lamed of one leg, crippled in his hand, and so cut up and car
bonadoed, that he is a kind of walking monument of th*
troubles of Spain, on which there is a scar for every battle and!
THE VETERAN. 169
broil, as every year was notched upon the tree of Robinson
Crusoe. The greatest misfortune of the brave old cavalier,
however, appears to have been his having commanded at
Malaga during a time of peril and confusion, and been made a
general by the inhabitants to protect them from the invasion
of the French.
This has entailed upon him a number of just claims upou
government that I fear will employ him until his dying day in
writing and printing petitions and memorials, to the great dis
quiet of his mind, exhaustion of his purse, and penance of his
friends ; not one of whom can visit him without having to listen
to a mortal document of half an hour in length, and to carry
away half a dozen pamphlets in his pocket. This, however,
is the case throughout Spain : every where you meet with some
worthy wight brooding in a corner, and nursing up some pet
grievance and cherished wrong. Beside, a Spaniard who has
a lawsuit, or a claim upon government, may be considered as
furnished with employment for the remainder of his life.
I visited the veteran in his quarters in the upper part of the
Tprre del Vino, or Wine Tower. His room was small but snug,
and commanded a beautiful view of the Vega. It was arranged
with a soldier's precision. Three muskets and a brace of pistols,
all bright and shining, were suspended against the wall, with a
eabre and a cane hanging side by side, and above these two
cocked hats, one for parade, and one for ordinary use. A small
shelf, containing some half dozen books, formed his library,
one of which, a little old mouldy volume of philosophical
maxims, was his favourite reading. This he thumbed and
pondered over day by day ; applying every maxim to his own
particular case, provided it had a little tinge of wholesome bit
terness, and treated of the injustice of the world.
Yet he is social and kind-hearted, and, provided he can be
diverted from his wrongs and his philosophy, is an entertain
ing companion. I like these old weather-beaten sons of fortune,
and enjoy their rough campaigning anecdotes. In the course
of my visit to the one in question, I learnt some curious facts
about an old military commander of the fortress, who seems to
have resembled him in some respects, and to have had similar
fortunes in the wars. These particulars have been augmented
by inquiries among some of the old inhabitants of the place,
particularly the father of Mateo Ximenes, of whose traditional
stories the worthy I am about to introduce to the reader is a
favourite hero.
170 THE AL11AMBRA.
THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY.
In former times there ruled, as governor of the Alhambra, a
doughty old cavalier, who, from having lost one arm in the
ware, was commonly known by the name of El Gobemador
Manco, or the one-armed governor. He in fact prided himseli
upon being an old soldier, wore his mustachios curled up to his
eyes, a pair of campaigning boots, and a toledo as long as a spit,
with his pocket handkerchief in the basket-hilt.
He was, moreover, exceedingly proud and punctilious, and
tenacious of all his privileges and dignities. Under his sway,
the immunities of the Alhambra, as a royal residence and do
main, were rigidly exacted. No one was permitted to enter
the fortress with fire-arms, or even with a sword or staff, unless
he were of a certain rank, and every horseman was obliged to
dismount at the gate and lead his horse by the bridle. Now,
as the hill of the Alhambra rises from the very midst of the
city of Granada, being, as it were, an excrescence of the capi
tal, it must at all times be somewhat irksome to the captain-
general who commands the province, to have thus an imperiuna
in iraperio, a petty independent post, in the very core of his
domains. It was rendered the more galling in the present
instance, from the irritable jealousy of the old governor, that
took fire on the least question of authority and jurisdiction,
and from the loose vagrant character of the people that had
gradually nestled themselves within the fortress as in a sanctu
ary, and from thence carried on a system of roguery and dep
redation at the expense of the honest inhabitants of the city.
Thus there was a perpetual feud and heart-burning between
the captain-general and the governor; the more virulent on
the part of the latter, inasmuch as the smallest of two neigh
bouring potentates is always the most captious about his dignity.
The stately palace of the captain-general stood in the Plaza
Nueva, immediately at the foot of the hill of the Alhambra,
and here was always a bustle and parade of guards, and domes
tics, and city functionaries. A beetling bastion of the fortress
overlooked the palace and the public square in front of it ; and
on this bastion the old governor would occasionally strut back-
Wards and forwards, with his toledo girded by his side, keeping
THE GOVERNOR AND T1IE NOTARY. 171
a wary eye down upon his rival, like a hawk reconnoitring hia
quarry from his nest in a dry tree.
Whenever he descended into the city, it was in grand
parade, on horseback, surrounded by his guards, or in his
state coach, an ancient and unwieldy Spanish edifice of carved
timber and gilt leather, drawn by eight mules, with running
footmen, outriders, and lacqueys, on which occasions he nat
tered himself he impressed every beholder with awe and ad
miration as vicegerent of the king, though the wits of Gra
nada, particularly those who loitered about the palace of the
captain-general, were apt to sneer at his petty parade, and, in
allusion to the vagrant character of his subjects, to greet him
with the appellation of " the King of the beggars."
One of the most fruitful sources of dispute between these
two doughty rivals, was the right claimed by the governor
to have all things passed free of duty through the city, that
were intended for the use of himself or his garrison. By de
grees, this privilege had given rise to extensive smuggling. A
nest of contrabandistas took up their abode in the hovels of
the fortress and the numerous caves in its vicinity, and drove
a thriving business under the connivance of the soldiers of
the garrison.
The vigilance of the captain-general was aroused. He con
sulted his legal adviser and factotum, a shrewd, meddlesome
Escribano or notary, who rejoiced in an opportunity of per
plexing the old potentate of the Alhambra, and involving him
in a maze of legal subtilities. He advised the captain -general
to insist upon the right of examining every convoy passing
through the gates of his city, and he penned a long letter for
him, in vindication of the right. Governor Manco was a
straight-forward, cut-and-thrust old soldier, who hated an
Escribano worse than the devil, and this one in particular,
worse than all other Escribanoes.
"What!" said he, curling up his mustachios fiercely, " does
the captain-general set his man of the pen to practise con
fusions upon me? I'll let him see that an old soldier is not to
be baffled by schoolcraft."
He seized his pen, and scrawled a short letter in a crabbed
hand, in which, without deigning to enter into argument, he
insisted on the right of transit free of search, and denounced
vengeance on any custom-house officer who should lay his un
hallowed hand on any convoy protected by the flag of tb/
Alhambra.
172 THE ALHAMBRA.
While this question was agitated between the two pragmati
cal potentates, it so happened that a mule laden with supplier
for the f ortres ; arrived one day at the gate of Xenil, by which
it was to traverse a suburb of the city on its way to th
Alhambra. The convoy was headed by a testy old corporal,
who had long served under the governor, and was a man aftei
his own heart ; as trusty and staunch as an old toledo blade.
As they approached the gate of the city, the corporal placed
the banner of the Alhambra on the pack saddle of the mule,
and, drawing himself up to a perfect perpendicular, advanced
with his head dressed to the front, but with the wary side
glance of a cur passing through hostile grounds, and ready for
a snap and a snarl.
" Who goes there?" said the sentinel at the gate.
"Soldier of the Alhambra," said the corporal, without turn*
ing his head.
" What have you in charge?"
"Provisions for the garrison."
" Proceed."
The corporal marched straight forward, followed by the
convoy, but had not advanced many paces, before a posse of
custom-house officer rushed out of a small toll-house.
"Hallo there I" cried the leader: "Muleteer, halt and open
those packages."
The corporal wheeled round, and drew himself up in battle
array. "Respect the flag of the Alhambra," said he; "these
things are for the governor."
"A fig for the governor, and a fig for his flag. Muleteer,
halt, I say."
" Stop the convoy at your peril !" cried the corporal, cocking
bis musket. " Muleteer, proceed."
The muleteer gave his beast a hearty thwack, the custom
house officer sprang forward, and seized the halter; where
upon the corporal levelled his piece and shot him dead.
The street was immediately in an uproar. The old corporal
was seized, and after undergoing sundry kicks and cuffs, and
cudgellings, which are generally given impromptu, by the
mob in Spain, as a foretaste of the after penalties of the law,
he was loaded with irons, and conducted to the city prison;
while his comrades were permitted to proceed with the convoy,
after it had been well rummaged, to the Alhambra.
The old governor was in a towering passion, when he heard
of this insult to his flag and capture of his corporal. For a
THE GOVERNOR AND THE NOTARY. 173
time he stormed about the Moorish halls, and vapoured about
the bastions, and looked down fire and sword upon the palace
of the captain-general. Having vented the first ebullition of
his wrath, he despatched a message demanding the surrender
of the corporal, as to him alone belonged the right of sitting
in judgment on the offences of those under his command.
The captain-general, aided by the pen of the delighted Escri-
bano, replied at great length, arguing that as the offence had
been committed within the walls of Ms city, and against one
of his civil officers, it was clearly within his proper jurisdic
tion. The governor rejoined by a repetition of his demand ;
the captain general gave a sur-re joinder of still greater length,
artd legal acumen ; the governor became hotter and more per
emptory in his demands, and the captain-general cooler and
more copious in his replies ; until the old lion-hearted soldier
absolutely roared with fury, at being thus entangled in the
meshes of legal controversy.
While the subtle Escribano was thus amusing himself at the
expense of the governor, he was conducting the trial of the
corporal ; who, mewed up in a narrow dungeon of the prison,
had merely a small grated window at which to show his iron-
bound visage, and receive the consolations of his friends; a
mountain of written testimony was diligently heaped up, ac<
cording to Spanish form, by the indefatigable Escribano ; the
corporal was completely overwhelmed by it. He was con
victed of murder, and sentenced to be hanged.
It was in vain the governor sent down remonstrance and
menace from the Alhambra. The fatal day was at hand, and
the corporal was put in capilla, that is to say, in the chapel of
the prison; as is always done with culprits the day before
execution, that they may meditate on their approaching end,
and repent them of their sins.
Seeing things drawing to an extremity, the old governor
determined to attend to the affair in person. For this purpose
he ordered out his carriage of state, and, surrounded by his
guards, rumbled down the avenue of the Alhambra into the
city. Driving to the house of the Escribano, he summoned
him to the portal.
The eye of the old governor gleamed like a coal at beholding
the smirking man of the law advancing with an air of exul
tation.
"What is this I hear," cried he, "that you are about to put
to death one of my soldiers?"
174 THE ALUAMBRA.
"All according to law, all in strict form of justice," said
the self -sufficient Escribano, chuckling and rubbing his hands.
"I can show your excellency the written testimony in the
case."
" Fetch it hither," said the governor.
The Escribano bustled into his office, delighted with having
another opportunity of displaying his ingenuity at the expense
of the hard-headed veteran. He returned with a satchel full
of papers, and began to read a long deposition with profes
sional volubility. By this time, a crowd had collected, listen
ing with outstretched necks and gaping mouths.
"Pry'thee man, get into the carriage out of this pestilent
throng, that I may the better hear thee," said the governor.
The Escribano entered the carriage, when, in a twinkling,
the door was closed, the coachman smacked his whip, mules,
carriage, guards, and all dashed off at a thundering rate, leav
ing the crowd in gaping wonderment, nor did the governor
pause until he had lodged his prey in one of the strongest
dungeons of the Alhambra.
He then sent down a flag of truce in military style, propos
ing a cartel or exchange of prisoners, the corporal for the
notary. The pride of the captain -general was piqued, he re
turned a contemptuous refusal, and forthwith caused a gal
lows, tall and strong, to be erected in the centre of the Plaza
Neuva, for the execution of the corporal.
"O ho! is that the game?" said Governor Manco: he gave
orders, and immediately a gibbet was reared on the verge of
the great beetling bastion that overlooked the Plaza. " Now,"
said he, in a message to the captain-general, ' ' hang my soldier
when you please ; but at the same time that he is swung off in
the square, look up to see your Escribano dangling against the
sky."
The captain-general was inflexible ; troops were paraded in
the square ; the drums beat ; the bell tolled ; an immense mul
titude of amateurs had collected to behold the execution; on
the other hand, the governor paraded his garrison on the bas
tion, and tolled the funeral dirge of the notary from the Torre
de la Campana, or tower of the bell.
The notary's wife pressed through the crowd with a whole
progeny of little embryo Escribanoes at her heels, and throw
ing herself at the feet of the captain-general, implored him not
to sacrifice the life of her husband, and the welfare of herself
and her numerous little ones to a point of pride; "for you
GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 175
!mow the old governor too well," said she, "to doubt that he
will put his threat in execution if you hang the soldier."
The captain-general was overpowered by her tears and lam
entations, and the clamours of her callow brood. The corporal
was sent up to the Alhambra under a guard, in his gallows
garb, like a hooded friar ; but with head erect and a face of
iron. The Escribano was demanded in exchange, according to
the cartel. The once bustling and self-sufficient man of the
law was drawn forth from his dungeon, more dead than alive.
All his flippancy and conceit had evaporated; his hair, it is
said, had nearly turned gray with affright, and he had a down
cast, dogged look, as if he still felt the halter round his neck.
The old governor stuck his one arm a-kimbo, and for a mo
ment surveyed him with an iron smile. "Henceforth, my
friend, "said he, "moderate your zeal in hurrying others to
the gallows; be not too certain of your own safety, even
though you should have the law on your side ; and, above all,
take care how you play off your schoolcraft another time upon
an old soldier."
GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER.
WHEN Governor Manco, or the one-armed, kept up a show of
military state in the Alhambra, he became nettled at the re
proaches continually cast upon his fortress of being a nestling
place of rogues and contrabandistas. On a sudden, the old
potentate determined on reform, and setting vigorously to
work, ejected whole nests of vagabonds out of the fortress,
and the gypsy caves with which the surrounding hills are
honey-combed. He sent out soldiers, also, to patrol the
avenues and footpaths, with orders to take up all suspicious
persons.
One bright summer morning, a patrol consisting of the testy
old corporal who had distinguished himself in the affair of
the notary, a trumpeter and two privates were seated under
the garden wall of the Generaliffe, beside the road which leads
down from the mountain of the Sun, when they heard the
tramp of a horse, and a male voice singing in rough, though
not unmusical tones, an old Castilian campaigning &*&.
Presently they beheld a sturdy* sun-burnt fellow clan m tto
176 Tllti ALlLAMmtA.
Pigged garb of a foot-soldier, leading a powerful Arabian
horse caparisoned in the ancient Morisco fashion.
Astonished at the sight of a strange soldier, descending,
steed in hand, from that solitary mountain, the corporal
stepped forth and challenged him.
"Who goes there?"
" A friend. "
"Who, and what are you?"
"A poor soldier, just from the wars, with a cracked crown
and empty purse for a reward."
By this time they were enabled to view him more narrowly.
He had a black patch across his forehead, which, with a griz
zled beard, added to a certain dare-devil cast of countenance,
while a slight squint threw into the whole an occasional gleam
of roguish good-humour.
Having answered the questions of the patrol, the soldier
seemed to consider himself entitled to make others in return.
"May I ask," said he, " what city is this which I see at the
foot of the hill?"
"What city!" cried the trumpeter; "come, that's too bad.
Here's a fellow lurking about the mountain of the Sun, and
demands the name of the great city of Granada."
"Granada! Madre de Dios! can it be possible!"
" Perhaps not 1" rejoined the trumpeter, "and perhaps you
have no idea that yonder are the towers of the Alhambra?"
" Son of a trumpet," replied the stranger, "do not trifle with
me ; if this be indeed the Alhambra, I have some strange mat
ters to reveal to the governor."
"You will have an opportunity," said the corporal, " for we
mean to take you before him."
By this time the trumpeter had seized the bridle of the steed,
the two privates had each secured an arm of the soldier, the
corporal put himself in front, gave the word, "forward,
march !" and away they marched for the Alhambra.
The sight of a ragged foot-soldier and a fine Arabian horse
brought in captive by the patrol, attracted the attention of all
the idlers of the fortress, and of those gossip groups that gen
erally assemble about wells and fountains at early dawn. The
wheel of the cistern paused in its rotations ; the slipshod ser
vant-maid stood gaping with pitcher in hand, as the corporal
passed by with his prize. A motley train gradually gathered
in the rear of the escort. Knowing nods, and winks, and con
jectures passed from one to another. It is a deserter, said
GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 177
one; a contrabandista, said another; a bandalero, said a third,
until it was affirmed that a captain of a desperate band A
robbers had been captured by the prowess of the corporal and
his patrol. "Well, well," said the old crones one to another,
" captain or not, let him get out of the grasp of old Governor
Manco if he can, though he is but one-handed."
Governor Manco was seated in one of the inner haHs of th?
Alhambra, taking his morning's cup of chocolate in company
with his confessor, a fat Franciscan friar from the neighbour
ing convent. A demure, dark-eyed damsel of Malaga, the
daughter of his housekeeper, was attending upon him.
The world hinted that the damsel, who, with all her demure-
ness, was a sly, buxom baggage, had found out a soft spot
in the iron heart of the old governor, and held complete con
trol over him, but let that pass; the domestic affairs of these
mighty potentates of the earth should not be too narrowly
scrutinized.
When word was brought that a suspicious stranger had
been taken lurking about the fortress, and was actually in the
outer court, in durance of the corporal, waiting the pleasure
of his excellency, the pride and stateliness of office swelled the
bosom of the governor. Giving back his chocolate cup into
the hands of the demure damsel, he called for his basket-hilted
sword, girded it to his side, twirled up his mustachios, took
his seat in a large high-backed chair, assumed a bitter and for
bidding aspect, and ordered the prisoner into his presence.
The soldier was brought in, still closely pinioned by his cap
tors, and guarded by the corporal. He maintained, however,
a resolute, self-confident air, and returned the sharp, scruti
nizing look of the governor with an easy squint, which by no
means pleased the punctilious old potentate.
"Well, culprit!" said the governor, after he had regarded
him for a moment in silence, " what have you to say for your
self? who are you?"
"A soldier, just from the wars, who has brought away
nothing but scars and bruises."
"A soldier? humph! a foot-soldier by your garb. I under
stand you have a fine Arabian horse. I presume you brought
him too from the wars, beside your scars and bruises."
"May it please your excellency, I have something strange
to tell about that horse. Indeed, I have one of the most won
derful things to relate something too that concerns the secu
rity of this fortress, indeed, of all Granada. But it is a matter
178 THE ALliAXBRA.
to be imparted only to your private ear, or in presence of such
only as are in your confidence."
The governor considered for a moment, and then directed the
corporal and his men to withdraw, but to post themselves out
side of the door, and be ready at call. " This holy friar," said
he, "is my confessor, you may say anything in his presence-
land this damsel," nodding towards the handmaid, who had
loitered with an air of great curiosity, " tliis damsel is of great
secrecy and discretion, and to be trusted with any thing."
The soldier gave a glance between a squint and a leer at tho
demure handmaid. "lam perfectly willing, " said he, "that
the damsel should remain."
When all the rest had withdrawn, the soldier commenced
his story. He was a fluent, smooth-tongued varlet, and had a
command of language above his apparent rank.
" May it please your excellency," said he, "I am, as I before
observed, a soldier, and have seen some hard service, but my
term of enlistment being expired, I was discharged not long
since from the army at Valladolid, and set out on foot for my
native village in Andalusia. Yesterday evening the sun went
down as I was traversing a great dry plain of old Castile."
"Hold I" cried the governor, "what is this you say? Old
Castile is some two or three hundred miles from this."
"Even so," replied the soldier, coolly, "I told your excel
lency I had strange things to relate but not more strange
than true as your excellency will find, if you will deign me a
patient hearing."
" Proceed, culprit," said the governor, twirling up his mus-
tachios.
"As the sun went down," continued the soldier, " I cast my
eyes about in search of some quarters for the night, but far as
my sight could reach, there were no signs of habitation. I saw-
that I should have to make my bed on the naked plain, with
my knapsack for a pillow ; but your excellency is an old sol
dier, and knows that to one who has been in the wars, such a
night's lodging is no great hardship."
The governor nodded assent, as he drew his pocket-handker
chief out of the basket-hilt of his sword, to drive away a fly
that buzzed about his nose.
"Well, to make a long story short," continued the soldier,
" I trudged forward for several miles, until I came to a bridge
over a deep ravine, through which ran a little thread of water,
almost dried up by the summer heat. At one end of the bridge
GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 179
wat. a Moorish tower, tlie upper part all in ruins, but a vault
in the foundations quite entire. Here, thinks I, is a good place
to make a halt. So I went down to the stream, took a hearty
drink, for the water was pure and sweet, and I was parched
with thirst, then opening my wallet, I took out an onion and
a few crusts, which were all my provisions, and seating myself
on a stone on the margin of the stream, began to make my
supper ; intending afterwards to quarter myself for the night
in the vault of the tower, and capital quarters they would have
Hjeen for a campaigner just from the wars, as your excellency,
who is an old soldier, may suppose."
"I have put up gladly with worse in my time," said the
governor, returning his pocket-handkerchief into the hilt of
his sword.
"While I was quietly crunching my crust," pursued the
soldier, ' ' I heard something stir within the vault ; I listened :
it was the tramp of a horse. By and by a man came forth
from a door in the foundation of the tower, close by the
water's edge, leading a powerful horse by the bridle. I could
not well make out what he was by the starlight. It had a
suspicious look to be lurking among the ruins of a tower in
that wild solitary place. He might be a mere wayfarer like
myself ; he might be a contrabandista ; he might be a banda-
lero! What of that, thank heaven and my poverty, I had
nothing to lose, so I sat still and crunched my crusts.
"He led his horse to the water close by where I was sitting,
so that I had a fair opportunity of reconnoitring him. To my
surprise, he was dressed in a Moorish garb, with a cuirass of
steel, and a polished skullcap, that I distinguished by the re
flection of the stars upon it. His horse, too, was harnessed in
the Morisco fashion, with great shovel stirrups. He led him,
as I said, to the side of the stream, into which the animal
plunged his head almost to the eyes, and drank until I thought
he would have burst.
" 'Comrade,' said I, 'your steed drinks well; it's a good sign
when a horse plunges his muzzle bravely into the water.'
"'He may well drink,' said the stranger, speaking with a
Moorish accent; 'it is a good year since he had his last
draught.'
" 'By Santiago,' said I, 'that beats even the camels that I
have seen in Africa. But come, you seem to be something of
a soldier, won't you sit down, and take part of a soldier's fare?'
-In fact, I felt the want of a companion in this lonely place,
180 THE ALHAMBRA
and was willing to put up with an infidel. Besides, as you*
excellency well knows, a soldier is never very particular about
the faith of his company, and soldiers of all countries are com
rades on peaceable ground."
The governor again nodded assent.
''Well, as I was saying, I invited him to share my supper,
guch as it was, for I could not do less in common hospitality.
"'I have no time to pause for meat or drink,' said he, '1
have a long journey to make before morning.'
" ' In which direction? ' said I.
" ' Andalusia,' said he.
" ' Exactly my route,' said I. ' So as you won't stop and eat
with me, perhaps you'll let me mount and ride with you. 1
see your horse is of a powerful frame : I'll warrant he'll carry
double.'
"'Agreed,' said the trtfoper; and it would not have been
civil and soldierlike to refuse, especially as I had offered to
ehare my supper with him. So up he mounted, and up I
mounted behind him.
" ' Hold fast,' said he, 'my steed goes like the wind.'
" ' Never fear me,' said I, and so off we set.
" From a walk the horse soon passed to a trot, from a trot to
a gallop, and from a gallop to a harum-scarum scamper. It
seemed as if rocks, trees, houses, everything, flew hurry-scurry
behind us.
" ' What town is this? ' said I.
" 'Segovia,' said he; and before the words were out of his
mouth, the towers of Segovia were out of sight. We swept up
the Guadarama mountains, and down by the Escurial ; and we
skirted the walls of Madrid, and we scoured away across the
plains of La Mancha. In this way we went up hill and down
dale, by towns and cities all buried in deep sleep, and across
mountains, and plains, and rivers, just glimmering in the star'
light.
" To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your excel
lency, the trooper suddenly pulled up on the side of a moun
tain. ' Here we are,' said he, ' at the end of our journey.'
"I looked about but could see no signs of habitation: noth
ing but the mouth of a cavern: while I looked, I saw multitudes
of people in Moorish dresses, some on horseback, some on foot,
arriving as if borne by the wind from all points of the compass,
and hurrying into the mouth of the cavern like bees into a
hive. Before I could ask a cfuestion, the trooper struck his
GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIEk.
long Moorish spurs into the horse's flanks, and dashed in with
the throng. We passed along a steep winding way that de*
scended into the very bowels of the mountain. As we pushed;
on, a light began to glimmer up by little and little, like thi
first glimmerings of day, but what caused it, I could not difl*
cover. It grew stronger and stronger, and enabled me to see
everything around. I now noticed as we passed along, great,
:averns opening to the right and left, like halls in an arsenal.
In some there were shields, and helmets, and cuirasses, and
lances, and scimitars hanging against the walls; in others,
there were great heaps of warlike munitions and camp equi
page lying 'upon the ground.
"It would have done your excellency's heart good, being an
old soldier, to have seen such grand provision for war. Then
in other caverns there were long rows of horsemen, armed to
the teeth, with lances raised and banners unfurled, all ready
for the field ; but they all sat motionless in their saddles like
so many statues. In other halls, were warriors sleeping on the
ground beside their horses, and foot soldiers in groups, ready
to fall into the ranks. All were in old-fashioned Moorish
dresses and armour.
"Well, your excellency, to cut a long story short, we at
length entered an immense cavern, or I might say palace, of
grotto work, the walls of which seemed to be veined with gold
and silver, and to sparkle with diamonds and sapphires, and
all kinds of precious stones. At the upper end sat a Moorish
king on a golden throne, with his nobles on each side, and a
guard of African blacks with drawn scimitars. All the crowd
that continued to flock in, and amounted to thousands and
thousands, passed one by one before his throne, each paying
homage as he passed. Some of the multitude were dressed in
magnificent robes, without stain or blemish, and sparkling
with jewels ; others in burnished and enamelled armour while
others were in mouldered and mildewed garments, and in
armour all battered and dinted, and covered with rust.
"I had hitherto held my tongue, for your excellency weQ
knows, it is not for a soldier to ask many questions when on
duty, but I could keep silence no longer.
" 'Pr'ythee, comrade,' said I, 'what is the meaning of all
this?'
" 'This,' said the trooper, ' is a great and powerful mystery.
Know, O Christian, that you see before you the court and
army of Boabdil, the last king of Granada.'
182 TEE ALHAMBRA.
" ' What is this you tell me ! ' cried I. ' Boabdu and hia
court were exiled from the land hundreds of years agone, and
all died in Africa.'
" 'So it is recorded in your lying chronicles,' replied the
Moor, 'but know that Boabdil and the warriors who made
the last struggle for Granada were all shut up in this moun
tain by powerful enchantment. As to the king and army that
marched forth from Granada at the tune of the surrender,
they were a mere phantom train, or spirits and demons per.
mitted to assume those shapes to deceive the Christian sove
reigns. And furthermore let me tell you, friend, that all Spain
is a country under the power of enchantment. There is not a
mountain-cave, not a lonely watch-tower in the plains, nor
ruined castle on the hills, but has some spell-bound warriors
sleeping from age to age within its vaults, until the sins are
expiated for which Allah permitted the dominion to pass for a
time out of the hands of the faithful. Once every year, on the
eve of St. John, they are released from enchantment from sun
set to sunrise, and permitted to repair here to pay homage to
their sovereign ; and the crowds which you beheld swarming
into the cavern are Moslem warriors from their haunts in all
parts of Spain; for my own part, you saw the ruined tower of
the bridge hi old Castile, where I have now wintered and sum
mered for many hundred years, and where I must be back
%gain by day -break. As to the battalions of horse and foot
irtu'ch you beheld drawn up in array in the neighbouring cav
erns, they are the spell-bound warriors of Granada. It is
Written in the book of fate, that when the enchantment is
broken, Boabdil will descend from the mountains at the head
f this army, resume his throne in the Alhambra and his sway
f Granada, and gathering together the enchanted warriors
from all parts of Spain, will reconquer the peninsula, and re
store it to Moslem rule.'
" 'And when shall this happen?' said I.
"'Allah alone knows. We had hoped the day of deliver
ance was at hand ; but there reigns at present a vigilant gov
ernor in Alhambra, a staunch old soldier, the same called
Governor Manco ; while such a warrior holds command of the
my outpost, and stands ready to check the first irruption
from the mountain, I fear Boabdil and his soldiery must be
content to rest upon their arms.' "
Here the governor raised himself somewhat perpendicularly,
adjusted his sword, and twirled up his mustachios.
GOVERNOR MANGO AND THE SOLDIER. 183
" To make a long story short, and not to fatigue your excel
lency, the trooper having given me this account, dismounted
from his steed.
" ' Tarry here,' said he, ' and guard my steed, while I go and
bow the knee to Boabdil.' So saying, he strode away among
the throng that pressed forward to the throne.
"What's to be done? thought I, when thus left to myself.
Shall I wait here until this infidel returns to whisk me off on
his goblin steed, the Lord knows where? or shall I make the
most of my time, and beat a retreat from this hobgoblin com
munity? A soldier's mind is soon made up, as your excellency
well knows. As to the horse, he belonged to an avowed enemy
of the faith and the realm, and was a fair prize according to
the rules of war. So hoisting myself from the crupper into
the saddle, I turned the reins, struck the Moorish stirrups
into the sides of the steed, and put him to make the best of his
way out of the passage by which we had entered. As we
scoured by the halls where the Moslem horsemen sat in
motionless battalions, I thought I heard the clang of armour,
and a hollow murmur of voices. I gave the steed another
taste of the stirrups, and doubled my speed. There was now a
sound behind me like a rushing blast ; I heard the clatter of a
thousand hoofs ; a countless throng overtook me ; I was borne
along in the press, and hurled forth from the mouth of the
cavern, while thousands of shadowy forms were swept off in
every direction by the four winds of heaven.
"In the whirl and confusion of the scene, I was thrown
from the saddle, and fell senseless to the earth. When I came
to myself I was lying on the brow of a hill, with the Arabian
steed standing beside me, for in falling my arm had slipped
within the bridle, which, I presume, prevented his whisking
off to old Castile.
"Your excellency may easily judge of my surprise on look*
ing round, to behold hedges of aloes and Indian figs, and other
proofs of a southern climate, and see a great city below me
with towers and palaces, and a grand cathedral. I descended
the hill cautiously, leading my steed, for I was afraid to
mount him again, lest he should play me some slippery trick.
As I descended, I met with your patrol, who let me into the
secret that it was Granada that lay before me : and that I was
actually under the walls of the Alhambra, the fortress of the
redoubted Governor Manco, the terror of all enchanted Mos
lems. When I heard this. I determined at once to seek yom
184 TH& ALHAMBRA.
excellency, to inform you of all that I had seen, and to warn
you of the perils that surround and undermine you, that you
may take measures in time to guard your fortress, and the
kingdom itself, from this intestine army that lurks in the very
bowels of the land."
"And pr'ythee, friend, you who are a veteran campaigner,
and have seen so much service," said the governor, "how
would you advise me to go about to prevent this evil?"
"It is not for an humble private of the ranks," said the
soldier modestly, "to pretend to instruct a commander of
your excellency's sagacity; but it appears to me that your
excellency might cause all the caves and entrances into the
mountain to be walled up with solid mason-work, so that
Boabdil and his army might be completely oorked up in their
subterranean habitation. If the good father too," added the
soldier, reverently bowing to the friar, and devoutly crossing
himself, "would consecrate the barricadoes with his blessing,
and put up a few crosses and reliques, and images of saints, I
think they might withstand all the power of infidel enchant
ments."
" They doubtless would be of great avail," said the friar.
The governor now placed his arm a-kimbo, with his hand
resting on the hilt of his toledo, fixed his eye upon the soldier,
and gently wagging his head from one side to the other:
"So, friend," said he, " then you really suppose I am to be
gulled with this cock-and-bull story about enchanted moun
tains, and enchanted Moors. Hark ye, culprit ! not another
word. An old soldier you may be, but you'll find you have
an old soldier to deal with ; and one not easily outgeneralled.
Ho! guard there! put this fellow in irons."
The demure handmaid would have put in a word in favour
of the prisoner, but the governor silenced her with a look.
As they were pinioning the soldier, one of the guards felt
something of bulk in his pocket, and drawing it forth, found a
long leathern purse that appeared to be well filled. Holding it
by one corner, he turned out the contents on the table before
the governor, and never did freebooter's bag make more gor
geous delivery. Out tumbled rings and jewels, and rosaries of
pearls, and sparkling diamond crosses, and a profusion of an-
eient golden coin, some of which fell jingling to the floor, and
rolled away to the uttermost parts of the chamber.
For a time the functions of justice were suspended : there
was a universal scramble after the glittering fugitives. The
GOVERNOR MANCO AND TUE SOLDIER. 185
governor alone, who was imbued with true Spanish pride,
maintained his stately decorum, though his eye betrayed a
little anxiety until the last coin and jewel was restored to the
sack.
The friar was not so calm ; his whole face glowed like a fur
nace, and his eyes twinkled and flashed at sight of the rosaries
and crosses.
" Sacrilegious wretch that thou art," exclaimed he, "what
church or sanctuary hast thou been plundering of these sacred
reliques?"
"Neither one nor the other, holy father. If they be sacrile
gious spoils, they must have been taken in times long past by
the infidel trooper I have mentioned. I was just going to tell
his excellency, when he interrupted me, that, on taking pos
session of the trooper's horse, I unhooked a leathern sack which
hung at the saddle bow, and which, I presume, contained the
plunder of his campaignings in days of old, when the Moors
overran the country."
"Mighty well, at present you will make up your mind to
take up your quarters in a chamber of the Vermilion towers,
Which, though not under a magic spell, will hold you as safe as
any cave of your enchanted Moors."
"Tour excellency will do as you think proper," said the pri
soner coolly. ' ' I shall be thankful to your excellency for any
accommodation in the fortress. A soldier who has been in the
wars, as your excellency well knows, is not particular about
his lodgings ; and provided I have a snug dungeon and regular
rations, I shall manage to make myself comfortable. I would
only entreat, that while your excellency is so careful about me,
you would have an eye to your fortress, and think on the hint
I dropped about stopping up the entrances to the moun
tain."
Here ended the scene. The prisoner was conducted to a
strong dungeon in the Vermilion towers, the Arabian steed
was led to his excellency's stable, and the trooper's sack was
deposited in his excellency's strong box. To the latter, it is
true, the friar made some demur, questioning whether the
sacred reliques, which were evidently sacrilegious spoils, should
not be placed in custody of the church; but as the governor
was peremptory on the subject, and was absolute lord in the
Alhambra, the friar discreetly dropped the discussion, but de
termined to convey intelligence of the fact to the church dig
nitaries in Granada, ~
186 THE ALHAMBRA.
To explain these prompt and rigid measures on the part ot
old Governor Manco, it is proper to observe, that about this
time the Alpuxarra mountains in the neighbourhood of Gra
nada were terribly infected by a gang of robbers, under the
command of a daring chief named Manuel Borasco, who were
accustomed to prowl about the country, and even to enter the
city in various disguises to gain intelligence of the departure
of convoys of merchandise, or travellers with well-lined purses,
whom they took care to waylay in distant and solitary passes
of their road. These repeated and daring outrages had awak
ened the attention of government, and the commanders of the
various posts had received instructions to be on the alert, and
to take up all suspicious stragglers. Governor Manco was par
ticularly zealous, in consequence of the various stigmas that
had been cast upon his fortress, and he now doubted not that
he had entrapped some formidable desperado of this gang.
In the mean time the story took wind, and became the talk
not merely of the fortress, but of the whole city of Granada.
It was said that the noted robber, Manuel Borasco, the terror
of the Alpuxarras, had fallen into the clutches of old Governor
Manco, and been cooped up by him in a dungeon of the Ver
milion towers, and every one who had been robbed by him
flocked to recognize the marauder. The Vermilion towers, as
is well known, stand apart from the Alhambra, on a sister hill
separated from the main fortress by the ravine, down which
passes the main avenue. There were no outer walls, but a sen
tinel patrolled before the tower. The window of the chamber
in which the soldier was confined was strongly grated, and
looked upon a small esplanade. Here the good folks of Gra
nada repaired to gaze at him, as they would at a laughing
hyena grinning through the cage of a menagerie. Nobody,
however, recognized him for Manuel Borasco, for that terrible
robber was noted for a ferocious physiognomy, and had by no
means the good-humoured squint of the prisoner. Visitors
came not merely from the city, but from all parts of the coun
try, but nobody knew him, and there began to be doubts in the
minds of the common people, whether there might not be some
truth in his story. That Boabdil and his army were shut up in
the mountain, was an old tradition which many of the ancient
inhabitants had heard from their fathers. Numbers went up
to the mountain of the Sun, or rather of St. Elena, in search of
the cave mentioned by the soldier ; and saw and peeped into
the deep dark pit, descending, no one knows how far, into the
GOVERNOR MAN CO AND THE SOLDIER. 187
mountain, and which remains there to this day, the fabled en
trance to the subterranean abode of Boabdil.
By degrees, the soldier became popular with the common
people. A freebooter of the mountains is by no means the op
probrious character in Spain that a robber is in any other coun
try ; on the contrary, he is a kind of chivalrous personage in
the eyes of the lower classes. There is always a disposition,
also, to cavil at the conduct of those in command, and many
began to murmur at the high-handed measures of old Governor
Manco, and to look upon the prisoner in the light of a martyr.
The soldier, moreover, was a merry, waggish fellow, that
had a joke for every one who came near his window, and a
soft speech for every female. He had procured an old gui
tar also, and would sit by his window and sing ballads and
love-ditties to the delight of the women of the neighbour
hood, who would assemble on the esplanade in the evenings,
and dance boleros to his music. Having trimmed off his
rough beard, his sunburnt face found favour in the eyes of
the fair, and the demure handmaid of the governor declared
that his squint was perfectly irresistible. This kind-hearted
damsel had, from the first, evinced a deep sympathy in his
fortunes, and having in vain tried to mollify the governor,
had set to work privately to mitigate the rigour of his dis
pensations. Every day she brought the prisoner some crumbs
of comfort which had fallen from the governor's table, or
been abstracted from his larder, together with, now and then,
a consoling bottle of choice Val de Peiias, or rich Malaga.
While this petty treason was going on in the very centre of
the old governor's citadel, a storm of open war was brewing up
among his external foes. The circumstance of a bag of gold
and jewels having been found upon the person of the supposed
robber, had been reported with many exaggerations in Gra
nada. A question of territorial jurisdiction was immediately
started by the governor's inveterate rival, the captain-general.
He insisted that the prisoner had been captured without the pre
cincts of the Alhambra, and within the rules of his authority.
He demanded his body, therefore, and the spolia opima taken
with him. Due information having been carried likewise by
the friar to the grand Inquisitor, of the crosses, and the rosa
ries, and other reliques contained in the bag, he claimed the cul
prit, as having been guilty of sacrilege, and insisted that his
plunder was due to the church, and his body to the next Auto
c(a Fe. The feuds ran high; the governor was furious, and
1S8 TUB ALHAMBRA.
eworo, rather than surrender his captive, he would hang him
up within the Alhambra, as a spy caught within the purlieus
of the fortress.
The captain-general threatened to send a body of soldiers to
transfer the prisoner from the Vermilion towers to the city.
The grand Inquisitor was equally bent upon despatching a
number of the familiars of the holy office. Word was brought
late at night to the governor, of these machinations. "Let
them come," said he, "they'll find me beforehand with them.
He must rise bright and early who would take in an old sol
dier." He accordingly issued orders to have the prisoner re
moved at daybreak to the Donjon Keep within the walls of tho
Alhambra: "And d'ye hear, child," said he to his demuro
handmaid, "tap at my door, and wake me before cock-crow-
ing, that I may see to the matter myself."
The day dawned, the cock crowed, but nobody tapped at the
door of the governor. The sun rose high above the mountain-
tops, and glittered in at his casement ere the governor was
awakened from his morning dreams by his veteran corporal,
who stood before him with terror stamped upon his iron
visage.
"He's off I he's gone!" cried the corporal, gasping for breath.
"Who's off? who's gone?"
" The soldier the robber the devil, for aught I know. His
dungeon is empty, but the door locked. No one knows how
he has escaped out of it. "
" Who saw him last?"
"Your handmaid, she brought him his supper."
"Let her be called instantly."
Here was new matter of confusion. The chamber of the
demure damsel was likewise empty; her bed had not been
slept in ; she had doubtless gone off with the culprit, as she
had appeared, for some days past, to have frequent conversa
tions with him.
This was wounding the old governor in a tender part, but he
had scarce time to wince at it, when new misfortunes broko
Upon his view. On going into his cabinet, he found his strong
box open, the leathern purse of the trooper extracted, and with
it a couple of corpulent bags of doubloons.
But how, and which way had the fugitives escaped? A
peasant who lived in a cottage by the road-side leading up
into the Sierra, declared that he had heard the tramp of a
powerful steed, just before daybreak, passing up into the
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 189
mountains. He had looked out at his casement, and could
just distinguish a horseman, with a female seated before him.
"Search the stables," cried Governor Manco. The stables
were searched; all the horses were in their stalls, excepting
the Arabian steed. In his place was a stout cudgel tied to
the manger, and on it a label bearing these words, " A gift to
Governor Manco, from an old soldier."
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES.
THERE lived once, in a waste apartment of the Alhambra, a
merry little fellow named Lope Sanchez, who worked in the
gardens, and was as brisk and blithe as a grasshopper, singing
all day long. He was the life and soul of the fortress ; when
his work was over, he would sit on one of the- stone benches of
the esplanade and strum his guitar, and sing long ditties about
the Cid, and Bernardo del Carpio, and Fernando del Pulgar,
and other Spanish heroes, for the amusement of the old sol
diers of the fortress, or would strike up a merrier tune, and set
the girls dancing boleros and fandangos.
Like most little men, Lope Sanchez had a strapping buxom
dame for a wife, who could almost have put him in her pocket ;
but he lacked the usual poor man's lot, instead of ten chil
dren he had but one. This was a little black-eyed girl, about
twelve years of age, named Sanchica, who was as merry as
himself, and the delight of his heart. She played about him
as he worked in the gardens, danced to his guitar as he sat in
the shade, and ran as wild as a young fawn about the groves,
and alleys, and ruined halls of the Alhambra.
It was now the eve of the blessed St. John, and the holyday-
loving gossips of the Alhambra, men, women, and children,
went up at sight to the mountain of the Sun, which rises
above the Generaliffe, to keep their midsummer vigil on its
level summit. It was a bright moonlight night, and all the
mountains were gray and silvery, and the city, with its domes
and spires, lay in shadows below, and the Vega was like a
fairy land, with haunted streams gleaming among its dusky
groves. On the highest part of the mountain they lit up a
bale fire, according to an old custom of the country handed
down from the Moors. The inhabitants of the surrounding
190 THE ALHAMBRA.
country were keeping a similar vigil, and bale fires here and
there in the Vega, and along the folds of the mountains, blazed
up palely in the moonlight.
The evening was gaily passed in dancing to the guitar of
Lope Sanchez, who was never so joyous as when on a holiday
revel of the kind. While the dance was going on, the little
Sanchica with some of her playmates sported among the ruins
of an old Moorish fort that crowns the mountain, when, in
gathering pebbles in the fosse, she found a small hand, curi
ously carved of jet, the fingers closed, and the thumb firmly
clasped upon them. Overjoyed with her good fortune, she
ran to her mother with her prize. It immediately became a
subject of sage speculation, and was eyed by some with super
stitious distrust. "Throw it away," said one, " it is Moorish,
depend upon it there's mischief and witchcraft in it." " By
no means," said another, "you may sell it for something to
the jewellers of the Zacatin." In the midst of this discussion
an old tawny soldier drew near, who had served in Africa, and
was as swarthy as a Moor. He examined the hand with a
knowing look. "I have seen things of this kind," said he,
" among the Moors of Barbary. It is of great value to guard
against the evil eye, and all kinds of spells and enchantments.
I give you joy, friend Lope, this bodes good luck to your
child."
Upon hearing this, the wife of Lope Sanchez tied the little
hand of jet to a riband, and hung it round the neck of her
daughter.
The sight of this talisman called up all the favourite super
stitions about the Moors. The dance was neglected, and they
sat in groups on the ground, telling old legendary tales handed
down from their ancestors. Some of their stories turned upon
the wonders of the very mountain upon which they were
seated, which is a famous hobgoblin region.
One ancient crone gave a long account of the subterranean
palace in the bowels of that mountain, where Boabdil and all
his Moslem court are said to remain enchanted. "Among
yonder ruins," said she, pointing to some crumbling walls and
mounds of earth on a distant part of the mountain, ' ' there is
a deep black pit that goes down, down into the very heart of
the mountain. For all the money in Granada, I would not
look down into it. Once upon a time, a poor man of the Al-
hambra, who tended goats upon this mountain, scrambled
down into that pit after a. kid that had fallen in. He came out
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUE8. 191
again, all wild and staring, and told such things of what he
had seen, that every one thought his brain was turned. He
raved for a day or two about hobgoblin Moors that had pur
sued him in the cavern, and could hardly be persuaded to
drive his goats up again to the mountain. He did so at last,
but, poor man, he never came down again. The neighbours
found his goats browsing about the Moorish ruins, and his hat
and mantle lying near the mouth of the pit, but he was never
more heard of."
The little Sanchica listened with breathless attention to thi
story. She was of a curious nature, and felt immediately a
great hankering to peep into this dangerous pit. Stealing
away from her companions, she sought the distant ruins, and
after groping for some time among them, came to a small
hollow or basin, near the brow of the mountain, where it
swept steeply down into the valley of the Darro. In the
centre of this basin yawned the mouth of the pit. Sanchica
ventured to the verge and peeped in. All was black as pitch,
and gave an idea of immeasurable depth. Her blood ran cold
she drew back then peeped again then would have run
away then took another peep the very horror of the thing
was delightful to her. At length she rolled a large stone, and
pushed it over the brink. For some time it fell in silence;
then struck some rocky projection with a violent crash, then
rebounded from side to side, rumbling and tumbling, with a
noise like thunder, then made a final splash into water, far,
f .ar below, and all was again silent.
The silence, however, did not long continue. It seemed as
H something had been awakened within this dreary abyss. A
murmuring sound gradually rose out of the pit like the hum
and buzz of a bee-hive. It grew louder and louder ; there was
the confusion of voices as of a distant multitude, together with
the faint din of arms, clash of cymbals, and clangour of trum
pets, as if some army were marshalling for battle in the very
bowels of the mountain.
The child drew off with silent awe, and hastened back to
the place where she had left her parents and their companions.
All were gone. The bale fire was expiring, and its last wreath
of smoke curling up in the moonshine. The distant fires that
had blazed along the mountains and in the Vega were all ex
tinguished ; every thing seemed to have sunk to repose. San
chica called her parents and some of her companions by name,
but received no reply. Sh raojlown the side of the mountain,
192 THE ALHAMBRA.
and by the gardens of the Generaliffe, until she arrived In th*
alley of trees leading to the Alhambra, where she seated hersel)
on a bench of a woody recess to recover breath. The bell from
the watch-tower of the Alhambra told midnight. Tkere was
a deep tranquillity, as if all nature slept ; excepting the low
tinkling sound of an unseen stream that ran under the covert
of the bushes. The breathing sweetness of the atmosphere
was lulling her to sleep, when her eye was caught by some
thing glittering at a distance, and to her surprise, she beheld a
long cavalcade of Moorish warriors pouring down the moun
tain side, and along the leafy avenues. Some were armed
with lances and shields ; others with scimitars and battle-axes,
and with polished cuirasses that flashed in the moon-beams.
Their horses pranced proudly, and champed upon the bit, but
their tramp caused no more sound than if they had been shod
with felt, and the riders were all as pale as death. Among
them rode a beautiful lady with a crowned head and long
golden locks entwined with pearls. The housings of her
palfrey were of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, and
swept the earth ; but she rode all disconsolate, with eyes ever
fixed upon the ground.
Then succeeded a train of courtiers magnificently arrayed in
robes and turbans of divers colours, and amidst these, on a
cream-coloured charger, rode king Boabdil el Chico, in a royal
mantle covered with jewels, and a crown sparkling with
diamonds. The little Sanchica knew him by his yellow beard,
and his resemblance to his portrait, which she had often seen
in the picture gallery of the Generaliffe. She gazed in wonder
and admiration at this royal pageant as it passed glistening
among the trees, but though she knew these monarchs, and
courtiers, and warriors, so pale and silent, were out of the
common course of nature, and things of magic or enchant
ment, yet she looked on with a bold heart, such courage did
she derive from the mystic talisman of the hand which was
suspended about her neck.
The cavalcade having passed by, she rose and followed. It
continued on to the great gate of Justice, which stood wide
open; the old invalid sentinels on duty, lay on the stone
benches of the Barbican, buried in profound and apparently
charmed sleep, and the phantom pageant swept noiselessly by
them with flaunting banner and triumphant state. Sanchica
would have followed, but, to her surprise, she beheld an open
ing in the earth within tho Barbican, leading down
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 193
the foundations of the tower. She entered for a little distance,
and was encouraged to proceed by finding steps rudely hewn
in the rock, and a vaulted passage here and there lit up by a
silver lamp, which, while it gave light, diffused likewise a
grateful fragrance. Venturing on, she came at last to a great
hall wrought out of the heart of the mountain, magnificently
furnished in the Moorish style, and lighted up by silver and
crystal lamps. Here on an ottoman sat an old man in Moorish
dress, with a long white beard, nodding and dozing, with a
staff in his hand, which seemed ever to be slipping from hia
grasp ; while at a little distance, sat a beautiful lady in ancient
Spanish dress, with a coronet all sparkling with diamonds,
and her hair entwined with pearls, who was softly playing on
a silver lyre. The little Sanchica now recollected a story sh
had heard among the old people of the Alhambra, concerning
a Gothic princess confined in the centre of the mountain by
an old Arabian magician, whom she kept bound up in magio
sleep by the power of music.
The lady paused with surprise, at seeing a mortal in that
enchanted hall. "Is it the eve of the blessed St. John?" said
she.
"It is," replied Sanchica.
" Then for one night the magic charm is suspended. Come
hither, child, and fear not, I am a Christian like thyself,
though bound here by enchantment. Touch my fetters with
the talisman that hangs about thy neck, and for this night I
shall be free."
So saying, she opened her robes and displayed a broad
golden band round her waist, and a golden chain that fastened
her to the ground. The child hesitated not to apply the little
hand of jet to the golden band, and immediately the chain fell
to the earth. At the sound the old man awoke, and began to
rub his eyes, but the lady ran her fingers over the chords of
the lyre, and again he fell into a slumber and began to nod, and
his staff to falter in his hand. "Now," said the lady, " touch
his staff with the talismanic hand of jet." The child did so, and
it fell from his grasp, and he sank in a deep sleep on the otto-
man. The lady gently laid the silver lyre on the ottoman lean
ing it against the head of the sleeping magician, then touching
the chords until they vibrated in his ear, "O potent spirit
of harmony," said she, "continue thus to hold his senses
in thraldom till the return of day." "Now follow me, my
mld," continued she. V,and thou shalt behold the Alhambra aa
194 TIIK ALHAMBRA.
it was in the days of its glory, for thou hast a magic talisman
that reveals all enchantments." Sanchica followed the lady in
silence. They passed up through the entrance of the cavern
into the Barbican of the gate of Justice, and thence to the
Plaza de las Algibes, or esplanade within the fortress. This
was all filled with Moorish soldiery, horse and foot, marshalled
in squadrons, with banners displayed. There were royal
guards also at the portal, and rows of African blacks with
drawn scimitars. No one spoke a word, and Sanchica passed
on fearlessly after her conductor. Her astonishment increased
on entering the royal palace, in which she had been reared.
The broad moonshine lit up all the halls, and courts, and
gardens, almost as brightly as if it were day ; but revealed a
far different scene from that to which she was accustomed.
The walls of the apartments were no longer stained and rent by
time. Instead of cobwebs, they were now hung with rich silka
of Damascus, and the gildings and arabesque paintings were
restored to their original brilliancy and freshness. The halls,
instead of being naked and unfurnished, were set out with
divans and ottomans of the rarest stuffs, embroidered with
pearls, and studded with precious gems, and all the fountains
in the courts and gardens were playing.
The kitchens were again in full operation ; cooks were busied
preparing shadowy dishes, and roasting and boiling the phan
toms of pullets and partridges ; servants were hurrying to and
fro with silver dishes heaped up with dainties, and arranging
a delicious banquet. The Court of Lions was thronged with
guards, and courtiers, and alfaquis, as in the old times of the
Moors ; and at the upper end in the saloon of judgment, sat
Boabdil on his throne, surrounded by his court, and swaying a
shadowy sceptre for the night.
Notwithstanding all this throng and seeming bustle, not a
voice or footstep was to be heard ; nothing interrupted the mid
night silence but the plashing of the fountains. The little
Sanchica followed her conductress in mute amazement about
the palace, until they came to a portal opening to the vaulted
passages beneath the great tower of Comares. On each side of
the portal sat the figure of a nymph, wrought out of alabaster.
Their heads were turned aside, and their regards fixed upon the
same spot within the vault. The enchanted lady paused, and
beckoned the child to her. " Here," said she, "is a great se
cret, which I will reveal to thee in reward for thy faith and
courage. These discreet statues watch over a mighty treasure
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 195
hidden in old times by a Moorish king. Tell thy father to
search the spot on which their eyes are fixed, and he will find
what will make him richer than any man in Granada. Thy
innocent hands alone, however, gifted as thou art also with the
talisman, can remove the treasure. Bid thy father use it
discreetly, and devote a part of it to the performance of
daily masses for my deliverance from this unholy enchant
ment."
When the lady had spoken these words, she led the child
onward to the little garden of Lindaraxa, which is hard by the
vault of the statues. The moon trembled upon the waters of
the solitary fountain in the centre of the garden, and shed a
tender light upon the orange and citron trees. The beautiful
lady plucked a branch of myrtle and wreathed it round the
head of the child. "Let this be a memento," said she, "of
what I have revealed to thee, and a testimonial of its truth.
My hour is come. I must return to the enchanted hall; follow
me not, lest evil befall thee ; farewell, remember what I have
said, and have masses performed for my deliverance." So say
ing, the lady entered a dark passage leading beneath the tow
ers of Comares, and was no longer to be seen.
The faint crowing of a cock was now heard from the cottages
below the Alhambra, in the valley of the Darro, and a pale
streak of light began to appear above the eastern mountains.
A. slight wind arose ; there was a sound like the rustling of dry
leaves through the courts and corridors, and door after door
shut to with a jarring sound. Sanchica returned to the scenes
ghe had so lately beheld thronged with the shadowy multitude,
but Boabdil and his phantom court were gone.
The moon shone into empty halls and galleries, stripped of
their transient splendour, stained and dilapidated by time, and
hung with cobwebs; the bat flitted about in the uncertain
light, and the frog croaked from the fish-pond.
Sanchica now made the best of her way to a remote staircase
that led up to the humble apartment occupied by her family.
The door as usual was open, for Lope Sanchez was too poor to
need bolt or bar : she crept quietly to her pallet, and, putting
the myrtle wreath beneath her pillow, soon fell asleep.
In the morning she related all that had befallen her to her
father. Lope Sanchez, however, treated the whole as a mere
dream, and laughed at the child for her credulity. He went
forth to his customary labours in the garden, but had not been
there long when his little daughter came running to him almost
196 THE ALI1AMBRA.
breathless. "Father! father !" cried she, "behold the myrtle
wreath which the Moorish lady bound round my head."
Lope Sanchez gazed with astonishment, for the stalk of the
myrtle was of pure gold, and every leaf was a sparkling emer
ald 1 Being not much accustomed to precious stones, he was
ignorant of the real value of the wreath, but he saw enough to
convince him that it was something more substantial than the
stuff that dreams are generally made of, and that at any rate
the child had dreamt to some purpose. His first care was to
enjoin the most absolute secrecy upon his daughter ; in this
respect, however, he was secure, for she had discretion far be
yond her years or sex. He then repaired to the vault where
stood the statues of the two alabaster nymphs. He remarked
that their heads were turned from the portal, and that the re
gards of each were fixed upon the same point in the interior of
the building. Lope Sanchez could not but admire this most
discreet contrivance for guarding a secret. He drew a line
from the eyes of the statues to the point of regard, made a pri
vate mark on the wall, and then retired.
All day, however, the mind of Lope Sanchez was distracted
with a thousand cares. He could not help hovering within
distant view of the two statues, and became nervous from the
dread that the golden secret might be discovered. Every foot
step that approached the place, made him tremble. He would
have given any thing could he but turn the heads of the statues,
forgetting that they had looked precisely in the same direction
for some hundreds of years, without any person being the
wiser. "A plague upon them," he would say to himself,
"they'll betray all. Did ever mortal hear of such a mode
of guarding a secret !" Then, on hearing any one advance, he
would steal off, as though his very lurking near the place
would awaken suspicions. Then he would return cautiously,
and peep from a distance to see if every thing was secure, but
the sight of the statues would again call forth his indigna
tion. "Aye, there they stand," would he say, "always look
ing, and looking, and looking, just where they should not
Confound them ! they are just like all their sex ; if they have
not tongues to tattle with, they'll be sure to do it with their
eyes !"
At length, to his relief, the long anxious day drew to a close.
The sound of footsteps was no longer heard in the echoing
halls of the Alhambra; the last stranger passed the threshold,
the great portal was barred apd bolted, and the bat, and the
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STA2 UES. 107
frog, and the hooting owl gradually resumed their nightly
vocations in the deserted palace.
Lope Sanchez waited, however, until the night was far ad
vanced, before he ventured with his little daughter to the hall
of the two nymphs. He found them looking as knowingly and
mysteriously as ever, at the secret place o deposit. "By your
leaves, gentle ladies," thought Lope Sanchez as he passed be
tween them, "I will relieve you from this charge that must
have set so heavy in your minds for the last two or three cen
turies." He accordingly went to work at the part of the wall
which he had marked, and in a little while laid open a con
cealed recess, in which stood two great jars of porcelain. He
attempted to draw them forth, but they were immovable until
touched by the innocent hand of his little daughter. With her
aid he dislodged them from their niche, and found to his great
joy, that they were filled with pieces of Moorish gold, mingled
with jewels and precious stones. Before daylight he managed
to convey them to his chamber, and left the two guardian
statues with their eyes still fixed on the vacant wall.
Lope Sanchez had thus on a sudden become a rich man, but
riches, as usual, brought a world of cares, to which he had
hitherto been a stranger. How was he to convey away his
wealth with safety? How was he even to enter upon the en
joyment of it without awakening suspicion? Now too, for the
first time in his life, the dread of robbers entered into his mind.
He looked with terror at the insecurity of his habitation,
and went to work to barricade the doors and windows ; yet
after all his precautions, he could not sleep soundly. His
usual gaiety was at an end ; he had no longer a joke or a song
for his neighbours, and, in short, became the most miserable
animal in the Alhambra. His old comrades remarked this
alteration; pitied him heartily, and began to desert him r
thinking he must be falling into want, and in danger of look-
Ing to them for assistance ; little did they suspect that his only
calamity was riches.
The wife of Lope Sanchez shared his anxiety; but then she
had ghostly comfort. We ought before this to have men
tioned, that Lope being rather a light, inconsiderate little man,
his wife was accustomed, in all grave matters, to seek the
counsel and ministry of her confessor, Fray Simon, a sturdy,
broad-shouldered, blue-bearded, bullet-headed friar of the
neighbouring convent of San Francisco, who was, in fact, the
Spiritual comforter of half the erood wives of the neighbour-
198 THE ALUAMBRA.
hood. He was, moreover, in great esteem among divers
sisterhoods of nuns, who requited him for his ghostly services
by frequent presents of those little dainties and nicknacks
manufactured in convents, such as delicate confections, sweet
biscuits, and bottles of spiced cordials, found to be marvellous
restoratives after fasts and vigils.
Fray Simon thrived in the exercise of his functions. Hie
oily skin glistened in the sunshine as he toiled up the hill of the
Alhambra on a sultry day. Yet notwithstanding his sleek
condition, the knotted rope round his waist showed the au
sterity of his self -discipline ; the multitude doffed their caps to
him as a mirror of piety, and even the dogs scented the odour
of sanctity that exhaled from his garments, and howled from
their kennels as he passed.
Such was Fray Simon, the spiritual counsellor of the comely
wife of Lope Sanchez, and as the father confessor is the
domestic confidant of women in humble life in Spain, he was
soon made acquainted, in great secrecy, with the story of the
hidden treasure.
The friar opened eyes and mouth, and crossed himself a
dozen times at the news. After a moment's pause, " Daughter
of my soul !" said he, " know that thy husband has committed
a double sin, a sin against both state and church ! The trea
sure he has thus seized upon for himself, being found in the
royal domains, belongs of course to the crown ; but being in
fidel wealth, rescued, as it were, from the very fangs of Satan,
should be devoted to the church. Still, however, the matter
may be accommodated. Bring hither the myrtle wreath."
When the good father beheld it, his eyes twinkled more than
over, with admiration of the size and beauty of the emeralds.
"This," said he, "being the first fruits of this discovery,
^hould be dedicated to pious purposes. I will hang it up as
{a votive offering before the image of San Francisco in our
chapel, and will earnestly pray to him, this very night, that
your husband be permitted to remain in quiet possession of
your wealth."
The good dame was delighted to make her peace with
heaven at so cheap a rate, and the friar, putting the wreath
under his mantle, departed with saintly steps towards his con
vent.
When Lope Sanchez came home, his wife told him what had
passed. He was excessively provoked, for he lacked his wife'*
devotion, and had for ome tune groaned in secret at tho
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 199
domestic visitations of the friar. " "Woman, " said he, "what
hast thou done ! Thou hast put every thing at hazard by thy
tattling."
"What!" cried the good woman, "would you forbid my
disburthening my conscience to my confessor?"
" No, wife! confess as many of your own sins as you please;
but as to this money -digging, it is a sin of my own, and my
conscience is very easy under the weight of it."
' There was no use, however, in complaining ; the secret was
told, and, like water spilled on the sand, was not again to be
gathered. Their only chance was, that the friar would be dis
creet.
The next day, while Lope Sanchez was abroad, there was an
humble knocking at the door, and Fray Simon entered with
meek and demure countenance.
"Daughter," said he, "I have prayed earnestly to San
Francisco, and he has heard my prayer. In the dead of the
night the saint appeared to me in a dream, but with a frowning
aspect. "Why, "said he, "dost thou pray to me to dispense
with this treasure of the Gentiles, when thou seest the pov
erty of my chapel? Go to the house of Lope Sanchez, crave
in my name a portion of the Moorish gold to furnish two
candlesticks for the main altar, and let him possess the residue
in peace. ' "
When the good woman heard of this vision, she crossed her
self with awe, and going to the secret place where Lope had
hid the treasure, she filled a great leathern purse with pieces
of Moorish gold, and gave it to the friar. The pious monk be
stowed upon her in return, benedictions enough, if paid by
heaven, to enrich her race to the latest posterity ; then slip
ping the purse into the sleeve of his habit, he folded his hands
upon his breast, and departed with an air of humble thankful
ness.
When Lope Sanchez heard of this second donation to the
church, he had well nigh lost his senses. " Unfortunate man,"
cried he, "what will become of me? I shall be robbed by
piecemeal ; I shall be ruined and brought to beggary !"
It was with the utmost difficulty that his wife could pacify
him by reminding him of the countless wealth that yet re
mained ; and how considerate it was for San Francisco to rest
contented with so very small a portion.
Unluckily, Fray Simon had a number of poor relations to be
provided for, not to mention _gome half dozen sturdy, bullet-
200 THE ALHAMBRA.
headed orphan children and destitute foundlings, that he had
taken under his care. He repeated his visits, therefore, from
day to day, with salutations on behalf of Saint Dominick, Saint
Andrew, Saint James, until poor Lope was driven to despair,
and found that, unless he got out of the reach of this holy friar,
he should have to make peace offerings to every saint in the
kalendar. He determined, therefore, to pack up his remaining
wealth, beat a secret retreat in the night, and make off to
another part of the kingdom.
Full of his project, he bought a stout mule for the purpose,
and tethered it in a gloomy vault, underneath the tower of the
Seven Floors. The very place from whence the Bellado, or
goblin horse without a head, is said to issue forth at midnight
and to scour the streets of Granada, pursued by a pack of hell
hounds. Lope Sanchez had little faith in the story, but availed
himself of the dread occasioned by it, knowing that no one
would be likely to pry into the subterranean stable of the phan
tom steed. He sent off his family in the course of the day, with
orders to wait for him at a distant village of the Vega. As the
night advanced, he conveyed his treasure to the vault under
the tower, and having loaded his mule, he led it forth, and
cautiously descended the dusky avenue.
Honest Lope had taken his measures with the utmost secrecy,
imparting them to no one but the faithful wife of his bosom.
By some miraculous revelation, however, they became known
to Fray Simon ; the zealous Mar beheld these infidel treasures
on the point of slipping for ever out of his grasp, and deter
mined to have one more dash at them for the benefit of the
church and San Francisco. Accordingly, when the bells had
rung for animas, and all the Alhambra was quiet, he stole out
of his convent, and, descending through the gate of Justice,
concealed himself among the thickets of roses and laurels that
border the great avenue. Here he remained, counting the
quarters of hours as they were sounded on the bell of the
watch-tower, and listening to the dreary hootings of owls, and
the distant barking of dogs from the gipsy caverns.
At length, he heard the tramp of hoofs, and, through the
gloom of the overshadowing trees, imperfectly beheld a steed
descending the avenue. The sturdy friar chuckled at the idea
of the knowing turn he was about to serve honest Lope. Tuck
ing up the skirts of his habit, and wriggling like a cat watching
a mouse, he waited until his prey was directly before him,
When darting forth from his leafy eovert, and putting one hand
LEGEND OF THE TWO DISCREET STATUES. 2Q1
on tne shoulder, and the other on the crupper, he made a vault
that would not have disgraced the most experienced master of
equitation, and alighted well forked astride the steed. ' ' Aha !'
said the sturdy friar, ' ' we shall now see who best understands
the game."
He had scarce uttered the words, when the mule began to
kick and rear and plunge, and then set off at full speed down
the hill. The friar attempted to check him, but in vain. He
bounded from rock to rock, and bush to bush ; the friar's habit
was torn to ribands, and fluttered in the wind ; his shaven poll
received many a hard knock from the branches of the trees,
and many a scratch from the brambles. To add to his terror
and distress, he found a pack of seven hounds in full cry at his
heels, and perceived, too late, that he was actually mounted
upon the terrible Bellado !
Away they went, according to the ancient phrase, "pull
devil, pull friar," down the great avenue, across the Plaza
Nueva, along the Zacatin, around the Vivarambla, never did
huntsman and hound make a more furious run, or more infer
nal uproar.
In vain did the friar invoke every saint in the kalendar, and
the holy virgin into the bargain ; every time he mentioned a
name of the kind, it was like a fresh application of the spur,
and made the Bellado bound as high as a house. Through the
remainder of the night was the unlucky Fray Simon carried
hither and thither and whither he would not, until every bone
in his body ached, and he suffered a loss of leather too grievous
to be mentioned. At length, the crowing of a cock gave the
signal of returning day. At the sound, the goblin steed wheeled
about, and galloped back for his tower. Again he scoured the
Vivarambla, the Zacatin, the Plaza Nueva, and the avenue of
fountains, the seven dogs yelling and barking, and leaping up,
and snapping at the heels of the terrified friar. The first streak
of day had just appeared as they reached the tower ; here the
goblin steed kicked up his heels, sent the friar a somerset
through the air, plunged into the dark vault followed by the
Infernal pack, and a profound silence succeeded to the late
deafening clamour.
Was ever so diabolical a trick played off upon holy friar?
A peasant going to his labours at early dawn, found the unfor
tunate Fray Simon lying under a fig-tree at the foot of the
tower, but so bruised and bedeviled, that he could neither
ipeak nor move. He was conveyed with all care and tender
202 THE ALHAMBRA.
ness to his cell, and the story went that he had been waylaid
and maltreated by robbers. A day or two elapsed before he
recovered the use of his limbs : he consoled himself in the mean
time, with the thoughts that though the mule with the treasure
had escaped him, he had previously had some rare pickings at
the infidel spoils. His first care on being able to use his limbs,
was to search beneath his pallet, where he had secreted the
myrtle wreath and the leathern pouches of gold, extracted from
the piety of dame Sanchez. What was his dismay at finding
the wreath, in effect, but a withered branch of myrtle, and tb.3
leathern pouches filled with sand and gravel !
Fray Simon, with all his chagrin, had the discretion to hold
his tongue, for to betray the secret might draw on him the
ridicule of the public, and the punishment of his superior ; it
was not until many years afterwards, on his death-bed, that he
revealed to his confessor his nocturnal ride on the Bellado.
Nothing was heard of Lope Sanchez for a long time after his
disappearance from the Alhambra. His memory was always
cherished as that of a merry companion, though it was feared,
from the care and melancholy showed in his conduct shortly
before his mysterious departure, that poverty and distress had
driven him to some extremity. Some years afterwards, one of
his old companions, an invalid soldier, being at Malaga, was
knocked down and nearly run over by a coach and six. The
carriage stopped; an old gentleman, magnificently dressed,
with a bag- wig and sword, stepped out to assist the poor in
valid. What was the astonishment of the latter to behold in
this grand cavalier, his old friend Lope Sanchez, who was actu
ally celebrating the marriage of his daughter Sanchica, with
one of the first grandees in the land.
The carriage contained the bridal party. There was dame
Sanchez now grown as round as a barrel, and dressed out with
feathers and jewels, and necklaces of pearls, and necklaces of
diamonds, and rings on every finger, and altogether a finery of
apparel that had not been seen since the days of Queen Sheba.
The little Sanchica had now grown to be a woman, and for
grace and beauty might have been mistaken for a duchess, if
not a princess outright. The bridegroom sat beside her, rather
a withered, spindle-shanked little man, but this only proved
him to be of the true blue blood, a legitimate Spanish grandee
being rarely above three cubits in stature. The match had been
of the mother's making.
Riches had not spoiled the heart of honest Lope, He kept
MAHAMAD ABEX ALAHNAR. 203
bis old comrade with him for several days ; feasted him like
a king, took Mm to plays and bull-fights, and at length sent
him away rejoicing, with a big bag of money for himself, and
another to be distributed among his ancient messmates of the
Alhambra.
Lope always gave out that a rich brother had died in
America, and left him heir to a copper mine, but the shrewd
gossips of the Alhambra insist that his wealth was all derived
from his having discovered the secret guarded by the two
marble nymphs of the Alhambra. It is remarked, that these
very discreet statues continue even unto the present day with
their eyes fixed most significantly on the same part of the
wall, which leads many to suppose there is still some hidden
treasure remaining there, well worthy the attention of the
enterprising traveller. Though others, and particularly all
female visitors, regard them with great complacency, as last
ing monuments of the fact, that women can keep a secret.
MA HAM AD ABEN ALAHMAR:
THE FOUNDER OF THE ALHAMBRA.
HAVING dealt so freely in the marvellous legends of the
Alhambra, I feel as if bound to give the reader a few facts
concerning its sober history, or rather the history of those
magnificent princes, its founder and finisher, to whom Eu
rope is indebted for so beautiful and romantic an oriental
monument. To attain these facts, I descended from this re
gion of fancy and fiction, where everything is liable to take an
imaginative tint, and carried my researches among the dusty
tomes of the old Jesuit's library in the university. Thifl once
boasted repository of erudition is now a mere shadow of its
former self, having been stripped of its manuscripts and rarest
works by the French, while masters of Granada. Still it con
tains, among many ponderous tomes of polemics of the Jesuit
fathers, several curious tracts of Spanish literature, and above
all, a number of those antiquated, dusty, parchment-bound
chronicles, for which I have a peculiar veneration.
In this old library I have passed many delightful hours of
quiet, undisturbed, literary foraging, for the keys of the doors
204 THE ALHAMBRA.
and bookcases were kindly entrusted to me, and I was left
alone to rummage at my leisure a rare indulgence in thosn
sanctuaries of learning, which too often tantalize the thirsty
student with the sight of sealed fountains of knowledge.
In the course of these visits I gleaned the following particu
lars concerning the historical characters in question.
The Moors of Granada regarded the Alhambra as a miracle
of art, and had a tradition that the king who founded it dealt
in magic, or at least was deeply versed in alchymy, by means
of which, he procured the immense sums of gold expended in
its election. A brief view oi' his reign will show the real secret
of his wealth.
The name of this monarch, as inscribed on the walls of some
of the apartments, was Aben Abd'allah (i.e. the father of
Abdallah), but he is commonly known in Moorish history as
Mahamad Aben Alahmar (or Mahamad son of Alahmar), or
simply Aben Alahmar, for the sake of brevity.
He was born in Arjona, in the year of the Hegira, 591, of the
Christian era, 1195, of the noble family of the Beni Nasar, or
children of Nasar, and no expense was spared by his parents
to fit him for the high station to which the opulence and
dignity of his family entitled him. The Saracens of Spain
were greatly advanced in civilization. Every principal city
was a seat of learning and the arts, so that it was easy to com
mand the most enlightened instructors for a youth of rank
and fortune. Aben Alahmar, when he arrived at manly years,
was appointed Alcayde or governor of Arjona and Jaen, and
gained great popularity by his benignity and justice. Some
years afterwards, 011 the death of Aben Hud, the Moorish
power of Spain was broken into factions, and many places
declared for Mahamad Aben Alahmar. Being of a sanguine
spirit and lofty ambition, he seized upon the occasion, made a
circuit through the country, and was every where received
with acclamation. It was in the year 1238 that he entered
Granada amidst the enthusiastic shouts of the multitude. He
was proclaimed king with every demonstration of joy, and
goon became the head of the Moslems in Spain, being the first
of the illustrious line of Beni Nasar that had sat upon the
throne.
His reign was such as to render him a blessing to his sub
jects. He gave the command of his various cities to such as
had distinguished themselves by valour and prudence, and
who seemed most acceptable to tfre people. He organized a
MAHAMAD ABEN ALAHMAR. 203
vigilant police, and established rigid rules for the administra
tion of justice. The poor and the distressed always found
ready admission to his presence, and he attended personally
to their assistance and redress. He erected hospitals for th
blind, the aged, and infirm, and all those incapable of labour,
and visited them frequently, not on set days, with pomp and
form, so as to give time for every thing to be put in order and
every abuse concealed, but suddenly and unexpectedly, in
forming himself by actual observation and close inquiry 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 the
youth. He established butcheries and public ovens, that the
people might be furnished with wholesome provisions at just
and regular prices. 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 beau
tiful city, its gates were thronged with commerce, and its
warehouses filled with the luxuries and merchandize of every
clime and country.
While Mahamad Aben Alahmar was ruling his fair domains
thus wisely and prosperously, he was suddenly menaced by
the horrors of war. The Christians at that time, profiting
by the dismemberment of the Moslem power, were rapidly
regaining their ancient territories. James the Conqueror had
subjected all Valentia, and Ferdinand the Saint was carrying
his victorious armies into Andalusia. The latter invested the
city of Jaen, and swore not to raise his camp until he had
gained possession of the place. Mahamad Aben Alahmar was
conscious of the insufficiency of his means to carry on a war
with the potent sovereign of Castile. Taking a sudden resolu
tion, 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 Mahamad, 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.
King Ferdinand was touched by this instance of confiding
faith, and determined not to be outdone in generosity. He
raised his late rival from the earth and embraced him as a
206 THE ALHAMBRA.
friend, nor would he accept the wealth he offered, but received
him as a vassal, leaving him sovereign of his dominions, 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 Mahamad was called upon for
his military services, to aid king Ferdinand in his famous siege
of Seville. The Moorish king sallied forth with five hundred
chosen horsemen of Granada, than whom none in the world
knew better how to manage the steed or wield the lance. It
was a melancholy and humiliating service, however, for they
had to draw the sword against their brethren of the faith.
Mahamad gained a melancholy distinction by his prowess in this
renowned conquest, but more true honour by the humanity
which he prevailed upon Ferdinand to introduce into the usages
of war. When in 1248, the famous city of Seville surrendered to
the Castilian monarch, Mahamad returned sad and full of care
to his dominions. He saw the gathering ills that menaced the
Moslem cause, and uttered an ejaculation often used by him
in moments of anxiety and trouble: "How straitened and
wretched would be our life, if our hope were not so spacious
and extensive."*
When the melancholy conqueror approached his beloved
Granada, the people thronged forth to see him with impatient
joy, for they loved him as a benefactor. They had erected
arches of triumph in honour of his martial exploits, and wher
ever he passed he was hailed with acclamations, as El Galib,
or the conqueror ; Mahamad shook his head when he heard the
appellation, "Wa le Galib iU Aid," exclaimed he: (there is no
conqueror but God !) From that time forward, he adopted this
exclamation as a motto. He inscribed it on an oblique band
across his escutcheon, and it continued to be the motto of his
descendants.
Mahamad had purchased peace by submission to the Chris
tian yoke, but he knew that where the elements were so dis
cordant, 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 sum
mer," he unproved the present interval of tranquillity by for
tifying his dominions and replenishing his arsenals, and by
* " Que angoste y miserabile seria mestra via*, sino fuera tan dilatada j eepacia
ueetra eeperanzal"
HAH AM AD ABBN ALAHMAR. 207
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 natural
fertility of the soil twofold by his protection, making the lonely
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 ofl
their productions. He, moreover, caused the mines of gold
and silver, and other metals found in the mountainous regions
of his dominions, to be diligently worked, and was the first
king of Granada who struck money of gold and silver with his
name, taking great care that the coins should be skillfully exe
cuted.
It was about this time, towards the middle of the thirteenth
century, and just after his return from the siege of Seville,
that he commenced the splendid palace of the Alhanibra:
superintending the building of it in person, mingling frequently
among the artists and workmen, and directing their labours.
Though thus magnificent in his works, and great in his enter
prises, he was simple in his person, and moderate in his enjoy
ments. His dress was not merely void of splendour, but so
plain as not to distinguish him from his subjects. His harem
boasted but few beauties, and these he visited but seldom,
though they were entertained with great magnificence. His
wives were daughters of the principal nobles, and were treated
by him as friends and rational companions ; what is more, he
managed to make them li ve as friends with one another.
He passed much of his time in his gardens ; especially in
those of the Alhambra, which he had stored with the rarest
plants, and the most beautiful and aromatic flowers. Here he
delighted himself in reading histories, or in causing them to be
i-ead and 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.
As he had frankly and voluntarily offered himself a tributary
vassal to Ferdinand, so he always remained loyal to his word,
giving him repeated proofs of fidelity and attachment. When
that renowned monarch died in Seville, in 1254, Mahamad Aben
Alahmar sent ambassadors to condole with his successor,
Alonzo X. , and with them a gallant train of a hundred Moorish
cavali3rs of distinguished rank, who were to attend, each bear
ing a lighted taper round the v oyal bier, during the funeral
208 THE AL11AMBRA.
ceremonies. This grand testimonial 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
the hundred Moorish knights repaired from Granada to Seville,
and took their stations with lighted tapers in the centre of the
sumptuous cathedral round the cenotaph of the illustrious de
ceased.
Mahamad Aben Alahmar retained his faculties and 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 of his territories. As the army sallied
forth from Granada, one of the principal adalides or guides,
who rode in the advance, accidentally broke his lance against
the arch of the gate. The counsellors of the king, alarmed by
this circumstance, which was considered an evil omen, en
treated him to return. Their supplications were in vain. The
king persisted, and at noon-tide the omen, say the Moorish
chroniclers, was fatally fulfilled. Mahamad was suddenly
struck with illness, and had nearly fallen from his horse. He
was placed on a litter, and borne back towards Granada, but
his illness increased to such a degree, that they were obliged to
pitch his tent in the Vega. His physicians were filled with
consternation, not knowing what remedy to prescribe. In a
few hours he died vomiting blood, and in violent convulsions.
The Castilian prince, Don Philip, brother of Alonzo X., was 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 patriot prince, who founded the
Alhambra, whose name remains emblazoned among its most
delicate and graceful ornaments, and whose memory is calcu
lated to inspire the loftiest associations in those who tread these
fading scenes of his magnificence and glory. Though his un
dertakings were vast, and his expenditures immense, yet his
treasury was always full ; and this seeming contradiction gave
rise to the story that he was versed in magic art and possessed
of the secret for transmuting baser metals into gold.
Those who have attended to his domestic policy, as here set
forth, will easily understand the natural magic and simpte
alchymy which made his ample treasury to overflow.
JUSEF ABUL EAQ1AS. g09
JUSEF ABUL HAGIAS:
THE FINISHER OF THE ALHAMBRA.
BENEATH the governor's apartment in the Alhambra is tiiw
royal Mosque, where the Moorish monarchs performed their
private devotions. Though consecrated as a Catholic chapel,
it still bears traces of its Moslem origin ; the Saracenic columns
with their gilded capitals, and the latticed gallery for the
females of the harem, may yet be seen, and the escutcheons of
the Moorish kings are mingled on the walls with those of the
Castilian sovereigns.
In this consecrated place perished the illustrious Jusef Abu]
Hagias, the high-minded prince who completed the Alhambra,
and who, for his virtues and endowments, deserves almost
equal renown with its magnanimous founder. It is with pleas
ure I draw forth from the obscurity in which it has too long
remained, the name of another of those princes of a departed
and almost forgotten race, who reigned hi elegance and splen
dour in Andalusia, when all Europe was in comparative bar
barism.
Jusef Abul Hagias (or, as it is sometimes written, Haxis)
ascended the throne of Granada in the year 1333, and his per
sonal appearance and mental qualities were such as to win all
hearts, and to awaken anticipations of a beneficent and pros
perous reign. He was of a noble presence and great bodily
strength, united to manly beauty. His complexion was ex
ceeding fair, and, according to the Arabian chroniclers, he
heightened the gravity and majesty of his appearance by suf
fering his beard to grow to a dignified length, and dyeing it
black. He had an excellent memory, well stored with science
and erudition; he was of a lively genius, and accounted the
best poet of his time, and his manners wene gentle, affable, and
urbane.
Jusef possessed the courage common to all generous spirits,
but his genius was more calculated for peace than war, and,
though obliged to take up arms repeatedly in his time, he was
generally unfortunate. He carried the benignity of his nature
into warfare, prohibiting all wanton cruelty, and enjoining
mercy and protection towards women and children, the aged
210 THE ALHAMBRA.
and infirm, and all friars and persons of holy and recluse life.
Among other ill-starred enterprises, he undertook a great cam
paign in conjunction with the king of Morocco, against the
kings of Castile and Portugal, but was defeated in the memor
able battle of Salado ; a disastrous reverse which had nearly
proved a death blow to the Moslem power in Spain.
Jusef obtained a long truce after this defeat, during which
time he devoted himself to the instruction of his people and the
improvement of their morals and manners. For this purpose
he established schools in all the villages, with simple and uni
form systems of education ; he obliged every hamlet of more
than twelve houses to have a Mosque, and prohibited various
abuses and indecorums, that had been introduced into the cere
monies of religion, and the festivals and public amusements of
the people. He attended vigilantly to the police of the city,
establishing nocturnal guards and patrols, and superintending
all municipal concerns.
His attention was also directed towards finishing the great
architectural works commenced by his predecessors, and erect-
ing others on his own plans. The Alhambra, which had been
founded by the good Aben Alahmar, was now completed.
Jusef constructed the beautiful gate of Justice, forming the
grand entrance to the fortress, which he finished in 1348. He
likewise adorned many of the courts and halls of the palace, as
maybe seen by the inscriptions on the walls, in which his name
repeatedly occurs. He built also the noble Alcazar, or citadel
of Malaga ; now unfortunately a mere mass of crumbHng ruins,
but which probably exhibited in its interior similar elegance
and magnificence with the Alhambra.
The genius of a sovereign stamps a character upon his time.
Ihe nobles of Granada, imitating the elegant and graceful taste
of Jusef, soon filled the city of Granada with magnificent pal
aces ; the halls of which were paved in Mosaic, the walls and
ceilings wrought in fret-work, and delicately gilded and painted
with azure, vermilion, and other brilliant colours, or minutely
inlaid with cedar and other precious woods ; specimens of which
have survived in all their lustre the lapse of several centuries.
Many of the houses had fountains, which threw up jets of
water to refresh and cool the air. They had lofty towers also,
of wood or stone, curiously carved and ornamented, and cov
ered with plates of metal that glittered in the sun. Such was
the refined and delicate taste in architecture that prevailed
among this elegant people : insomuch, that to use the beautiful
JUSEF ABUL HAGIA8.
simile of an Arabian writer, "Granada, in the days of Jusef,
was as a silver vase filled with emeralds and jacinths."
One anecdote will be sufficient to show the magnanimity of
this generous prince. The long truce which had succeeded the
battle of Salado was at an end, and every effort of Jusef t
renew it was in vain. His deadly foe, Alfonso XI. of Castile,
. ( took the field with great force, and laid siege to Gibraltar.
Jusef 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 suddenly fallen a victim to the plague.
Instead of manifesting exultation on the occasion, Jusef called
to mind the great qualities of the deceased, and was touched
with a noble 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 1"
The Spanish chroniclers themselves bear witness to this mag
nanimity. According to their accounts, the Moorish cavaliers
partook of the sentiment of their king, and put on mourning
for the death of Alfonso. Even those of Gibraltar, who had
been so closely invested, when they knew that the hostile mon
arch lay dead in his camp, determined among themselves that
no hostile movement should be made against the Christians.
The day on which the camp was broken up, and the army
departed, bearing the corpse of Alfonso, the Moors issued in
multitudes from Gibraltar, and stood mute and melancholy,
watching the mournful pageant. The same reverence for the
deceased was observed by all the Moorish commanders on the
frontiers, who suffered the runeral train to pass in safety,
bearing the corpse of the Christian sovereign from Gibraltar to
Beville.*
Jusef did not long survive the enemy he had so generously
deplored. In the year 1354, as he was one day praying in the
royal mosque of the Alhambra, a maniac rushed suddenly
from behind, and plunged a dagger in his side. The cries of
the king brought his guards and courtiers to his assistance.
They found him weltering in his blood, and in convulsions.
He was borne to the royal apartments, but expired almost im-
* " Y los Mores quo estaban en Ja villa y Castillo de Gibraltar despues que sopteron
que el Key Don Alonzo era muerto, ordenaron entresl que ninffuno non fuesse
osado de faaer nlngun movimlento contra los Chrlstlanos, nln mover pelear contra
ellos, estovieron todos quedos y dezian entre elloB que aquel dia muriera im nobll
rey y gran principe del mundol"
TEE
mediately. The murderer was cut to pieces, and his Ihndi
fcurnt in public, to gratify the fury of the populace.
The body of the king was interred iu a superb sepulchre of
u'hite 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;
sharp sword of the Moslems; a valiant standard-bearer among
the most potent monarchs," etc.
The mosque still remains, which once resounded with the
iying cries of Jusef, but the monument which recorded hia
virtues has long since disappeared. His name, however, re
mains inscribed among the ornaments of the Alhambra, and
will be perpetuated in connection with this renowned pile,
*iuvh it was his pride and delight to beautify.
OLFERT'S ROOST,
AND
BY
WASHINGTON IRVING,
WOLFERT'S EOOST AND MISCELLANIES.
CONTENTS.
MM
CHRONICLE OF WOLFERT'S ROOST 11
SLEEPY HOLLOW 25
BIRDS OF SPRING 35
RECOLLECTIONS or THE ALHAMBRA 40
A BENCERRAGE 43
ENCHANTED ISLAND 53
ADELANTADO OF TH SEVEN CITHS 55
NATIONAL NOMENCLATURE 69
DESULTORY THOUGHTS ON CRITICISM 74
SPANISH ROMANCE 78
LEGEND OF DON MUNIO SANCHO DK HINOJOSA. 81
COMMUNIPAW 86
CONSPIRACY OF THE COCKED HATS 93
LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW 98
BERMUDAS, THB 109
PELAYO AND THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER 119
KNIGHT OF MALTA 127
LEGEND OF THE EMQULPHED CONTENT 143
COUKT YAM HORN 148
WOLFERT'S ROOST
AND
MISCELLANIES.
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERT'S ROOST.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.
SIR : I have observed that as a man advances in life, he is
subject to a kind of plethora of the mind, doubtless occasioned
by the vast accumulation of wisdom and experience upon the
brain. Hence he is apt to become narrative and admonitory, that
is to say, fond of telling long stories, and of doling out advice, to
the small profit and great annoyance of his friends. As I have
a great horror of becoming the oracle, or, more technically speak
ing, the " bore," of the domestic circle, and would much rather
bestow my wisdom and tediousness upon the world at large, I
have always sought to ease off this surcharge of the intellect
by means of my pen, and hence have inflicted divers gossiping
volumes upon the patience of the public. I am tired, however,
of writing volumes ; they do not afford exactly the relief I re
quire ; there is too much preparation, arrangement, and parade,
in this set form of coming before the public. I am growing too
indolent and unambitious for any thing that requires labor or
display. I have thought, therefore, of securing to myself a
snug corner in some periodical work where I might, as it were,
loll at my ease in my elbow-chair, and chat sociably with the
public, as with an old friend, on any chance subject that might
pop into my brain.
In looking around, for this purpose, upon the various excel
lent periodicals with which our country abounds, my eye was
struck by the title of your work " THE KNICKERBOCKER." My
heart leaped at the sight.
6 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER, Sir, was one of my earliest and
most valued friends, and the recollection of him is associated
with some of the pleasantest scenes of my youthful days.
To explain this, and to show how I came into possession of
sundry of his posthumous works, which I have from time to
time given to the world, permit me to relate a few particulars
of our early intercourse. I give them with the more confi
dence, as I know the interest you take in that departed worthy,
whose name and effigy are stamped upon your title-page, and
as they will be found important to the better understanding and
relishing divers communications I may have to make to you.
My first acquaintance with that great and good man, for
such I may venture to call him, now that the lapse of some
thirty years has shrouded his name with venerable antiquity,
and the popular voice has elevated him to the rank of the
classic historians of yore, my first acquaintance with him was
formed on the banks of the Hudson, not far from the wizard
region of Sleepy Hollow. He had come there in the course of
his researches among the Dutch neighborhoods for materials
for his immortal history. For this purpose, he was ransacking
the archives of one of the most ancient and historical man
sions in the country. It was a lowly edifice, built in the time
of the Dutch dynasty, and stood on a green bank, over
shadowed by trees, from which it peeped forth upon the Great
Tappan Zee, so famous among early Dutch navigators. A
bright pure spring welled up at the foot of the green bank ; a
wild brook came babbling down a neighboring ravine, and
threw itself iuto a little woody cove, in front of the mansion. It
was indeed as quiet and sheltered a nook as the heart of man
could require, in which to take refuge from the cares and
troubles of the world ; and as such, it had been chosen in old
times, by Wolf ert Acker, one of the privy councillors of the re
nowned Peter Stuyvesant.
This worthy but ill-starred man had led a weary and worried
life, throughout the stormy reign of the chivalric Peter, being
one of those unlucky wights with whom the world is ever at
variance, and who are kept in a continual fume and fret, by the
wickedness of mankind. At the time of the subjugation of
the province by the English, he retired hither in high dudgeon ;
with the bitter determination to bury himself from the world,
and live here in peace and quietness for the remainder of his
days. In token of this fixed resolution, he inscribed over his
door the favorite Dutch motto, "Lust in Bust," (pleasure in
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERT'S BOOST. 7
repose.) The mansion was thence called " Wolfert's Rust "
Wolfert's Eest ; but in process of time, the name was vitiated
into Wolfert's Eoost, probably from its quaint cock-loft look,
or from its having a weather-cock perched on every gable.
This name it continued to bear, long after the unlucky Wolfert
was driven forth once more upon a wrangling world, by the
tongue of a termagant wife ; for it passed into a proverb
through the neighborhood, and has been handed down by tra
dition, that the cock of the Boost was the most hen-pecked bird
in the country.
This primitive and historical mansion has since passed
through many changes and trials, which it may be my lot
hereafter to notice. At the time of the sojourn of Diedrich
Knickerbocker it was in possession of the gallant family of the
Van Tassels, who have figured so conspicuously in his writings.
What appears to have given it peculiar value, in his eyes, was
the rich treasury of historical facts here secretly hoarded up,
like buried gold ; for it is said that Wolfert Acker, when he re
treated from New Amsterdam, carried off with him many of
the records and journals of the province, pertaining to the
Dutch dynasty ; swearing that they should never fall into the
hands of the English. These, like the lost books of Livy, had
baffled the research of former historians ; but these did I find
the indefatigable Diedrich diligently deciphering. He was
already a sage in years and experience, I but an idle stripling;
yet he did not despise my youth and ignorance, but took me
kindly by the hand, and led me gently into those paths of local
and traditional lore which he was so fond of exploring. I sat
with him in his little chamber at the Eoost, and watched the
antiquarian patience and perseverance with which he deciphered
those venerable Dutch documents, worse than Herculanean
manuscripts. I sat with him by the spring, at the foot of the
green bank, and listened to his heroic tales about the wor
thies of the olden time, the paladins of New Amsterdam. I
accompanied him in his legendary researches about Tarrytown
and Sing-Sing, and explored with him the spell-bound recesses
of Sleepy Hollow. I was present at many of his conferences
with the good old Dutch burghers and their wives, from whom
he derived many of those marvellous facts not laid down in
books or records, and which give such superior value and
authenticity to his history, over all others that have been writ
ten concerning the New Netherlands.
But let me check my proneness to dilate upon this favorite
8 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
theme; I may recur to it hereafter. Suffice it to say, the inti
macy thus formed, continued for a considerable time ; and in
company with the worthy Diedrich, I visited many of the
places celebrated by his pen. The currents of our lives at
length diverged. He remained at home to complete his mighty
work, while a vagrant fancy led me to wander about the world.
Many, many years elapsed, before I returned to the parent soil.
In the interim, the venerable historian of the New Netherlands
had been gathered to his fathers, but his name had risen to
renown. His native city, that city in which he so much
delighted, had decreed all manner of costly honors to his
memory. I found his effigy imprinted upon new-year cakes,
and devoured with eager relish by holiday urchins; a great
oyster-house bore the name of ' ' Knickerbocker Hall ;" and I
narrowly escaped the pleasure of being run over by a Knicker
bocker omnibus !
Proud of having associated with a man who had achieved
such greatness, I now recalled our early intimacy with tenfold
pleasure, and sought to revisit the scenes we had trodden to
gether. The most important of these was the mansion of the
Van Tassels, the Roost of the unfortunate Wolfert. Tune,
which changes all things, is but slow in its operations upon a
Dutchman's dwelling. I found the venerable and quaint little
edifice much as I had seen it during the sojourn of Diedrich.
There stood his elbow-chair in the corner of the room he had
occupied; the old-fashioned Dutch writing-desk at which he
had pored over the chronicles of the Manhattoes ; there was
the old wooden chest, with the archives left by Wolfert Acker,
many of which, however, had been fired off as wadding from
the long duck gun of the Van Tassels. The scene around the
mansion was still the same ; the green bank ; the spring beside
which I had listened to the legendary narratives of the histo
rian ; the wild brook babbling down to the woody cove, and the
overshadowing locust trees, half shutting out the prospect of
the great Tappan Zee.
As I looked round upon the scene, my heart yearned at the
recollection of my departed friend, and I wistfully eyed the
mansion which he had inhabited, and which was fast moulder
ing to decay. The thought struck me to arrest the desolating
hand of Time; to rescue the historic pile from utter ruin, and
to make it the closing scene of my wanderings ; a quiet home,
where I might enjoy "lust in rust" for the remainder of my
days. It is true, the fate of the unlucky Wolfert passed across
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERT8 ROOST. 9
my mind ; but I consoled myself with the reflection that I was
a bachelor, and that I had no termagant wife to dispute the
sovereignty of the Roost with me.
I have become possessor of the Roost ! I have repaired and
renovated it with religious care, in the genuine Dutch style,
and have adorned and illustrated it with sundry reliques of the
glorious days of the New Netherlands. A venerable weather
cock, of portly Dutch dimensions, which once battled with the
wind on the top of the Stadt-House of New Amsterdam, in the
time of Peter Stuyvesant, now erects its crest on the gable end
of my edifice ; a gilded horse in full gallop, once the weather
cock of the great Vander Heyden Palace of Albany, now glit
ters in the sunshine, and veers with every breeze, on the peaked
turret over my portal ; my sanctum sanctorum is the chamber
once honored by the illustrious Diedrich, and it is from his
elbow-chair, and his identical old Dutch writing-desk, that I
pen this rambling epistle.
Here, then, have I set up my rest, surrounded by the recol
lections of early days, and the mementoes of the historian of
the Manhattoes, with that glorious river before me, which
flows with such majesty through his works, and which has
ever been to me a river of delight.
I thank God I was born on the banks of the Hudson! I
think it an invaluable advantage to be born and brought up in
the neighborhood of some grand and noble object in nature ; a
river, a lake, or a mountain. We make a friendship with it,
we in a manner ally ourselves to it for lif e. It remains an
object of our pride and affections, a rallying point, to caU us
home again after all our wanderings. " The things which we
have learned in our childhood," says an old writer, " grow up
with our souls, and unite themselves to it." So it is with the
scenes among which we have passed our early days ; they in
fluence the whole course of our thoughts and feelings ; and I
fancy I can trace much of what is good and pleasant in my
own heterogeneous compound to my early companionship with
this glorious river. In the warmth of my youthful enthusiasm,
I used to clothe it with moral attributes, and almost to give it a
soul. I admired its frank, bold, honest character; its noble
sincerity and perfect truth. Here was no specious, smiling
surface, covering the dangerous sand-bar or perfidious rock;
but a stream deep as it was broad, and bearing with honorable
faith the bark that trusted to its waves. I gloried in its simple,
quiet, majestic, epic flow; ever straight forward. Once, in-
10 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
deed, it turns aside for a moment, forced from its course by
opposing mountains, but it struggles bravely through them,
and immediately resumes its straightforward march. Behold,
thought I, an emblem of a good man's course through life;
ever simple, open, and direct; or if, overpowered by adverse
circumstances, he deviate into error, it is but momentary ; he
soon recovers his onward and honorable career, and continues
it to the end of his pilgrimage.
Excuse this rhapsody, into which I have been betrayed by a
revival of early f eelings. The Hudson is, in a manner, my first
<ind last love ; and after all my wanderings and seeming infi
delities, I return to it with a heart-felt preference over all the
other rivers in the world. I seem to catch new life as I bathe
in its ample billows and inhale the pure breezes of its hills. It
is true, the romance of youth is past, that once spread illusions
over every scene. I can no longer picture an Arcadia in every
green valley ; nor a fairy land among the distant mountains ;
nor a peerless beauty in every villa gleaming among the trees ;
but though the illusions of youth have faded from the land
scape, the recollections of departed years and departed pleas
ures shed over it the mellow charm of evening sunshine.
Permit me, then, Mr. Editor, through the medium of your
work, to hold occasional discourse from my retreat with the
busy world I have abandoned. I have much to say about what
I have seen, heard, felt, and thought through the course of a
varied and rambling life, and some lucubrations that have long
been encumbering my portfolio; together with divers remi
niscences of the venerable historian of the New Netherlands,
that may not be unacceptable to those who have taken an
interest in his writings, and are desirous of any thing that may
cast a light back upon our early history. Let your readers
rest assured of one thing, that, though retired from the world,
I am not disgusted with it ; and that if in my communings
with it I do not prove very wise, I trust I shall at least prove
very good-natured.
Which is all at present, from
Yours, etc.,
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.
WORTHY SIR: In a preceding communication, I have given
you some brief notice of Wolfert's Roost, the mansion where I
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERFS ROOST. H
first had the good fortune to become acquainted with the ven
erable historian of the New Netherlands. As this ancient edi
fice is likely to be the place whence I shall date many of my
lucubrations, and as it is really a very remarkable little pile,
intimately connected with all the great epochs of our local and
national history, I have thought it but right to give some
farther particulars concerning it. Fortunately, in rummaging
a ponderous Dutch chest of drawers, which serves as the
archives of the Roost, and in which are preserved many
inedited manuscripts of Mr. KNICKERBOCKER, together with the
precious records of New- Amsterdam, brought hither by Wolf ert
Acker at the downfall of the Dutch dynasty, as has been
already mentioned, I found in one corner, among dried pump
kin-seeds, bunches of thyme, and pennyroyal, and crumbs of
new-year cakes, a manuscript, carefully wrapped up in the
fragment of an old parchment deed, but much blotted, and the
ink grown foxy by time, which, on inspection, I discovered to
be a faithful chronicle of the Roost. The hand-writing, and
certain internal evidences, leave no doubt in my mind, that it
is a genuine production of the venerable historian of the New-
Netherlands, written, very probably, during his residence at
the Roost, in gratitude for the hospitality of its proprietor.
As such, I submit it for publication. As the entire chronicle is
too long for the pages of your Magazine, and as it contains
many minute particulars, which might prove tedious to the
general reader, I have abbreviated and occasionally omitted
some of its details ; but may hereafter furnish them separately,
should they seem to be required by the curiosity of an enlight
ened and document-hunting public.
Respectfully yours,
t GEOFFREY CRAYON.
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERT'S ROOST.
FOUND AMONG THE PAPERS OF THE LATE DIEDRICH KNICKER
BOCKER.
ABOUT five-and-twenty miles from the ancient and renowned
city of Manhattan, formerly called New- Amsterdam, and vul
garly called New- York, on the eastern bank of that expansion
of the Hudson, known among Dutch mariners of yore, a the
12 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
Tappan Zee, being in fact the great Mediterranean Soa of the
New-Netherlands, stands a little old-fashioned stone mansion,
all made up of gable-ends, and as full of angles and corners as
an old cocked hat. Though but of small dimensions, yet, like
many small people, it is of mighty spirit, and values itself
greatly on its antiquity, being one of the oldest edifices, for its
size, in the whole country. It claims to be an ancient seat of
empire, I may rather say an empire in itself, and like all em
pires, great and small, has had its grand historical epochs. In
speaking of this doughty and valorous little pile, I shall call it
by its usual appellation of " The Roost;" though that is a name
given to it in modern days, since it became the abode of the
white man.
Its origin, in truth, dates far back in that remote region com
monly called the fabulous age, in which vulgar fact becomes
mystified, and tinted up with delectable fiction. The eastern
shore of the Tappan Sea was inhabited in those days by an
unsophisticated race, existing in all the simplicity of nature ;
that is to say, they lived by hunting and fishing, and recreated
themselves occasionally with a little tomahawking and scalp
ing. Each stream that flows down from the hills into the
Hudson, had its petty sachem, who ruled over a hand's-breadth
of forest on either side, and had his seat of government at ite
mouth. The chieftain who ruled at the Roost, was not merely
a great warrior, but a medicine-man, or prophet, or conjurer,
for they all mean the same thing, in Indian parlance. Of his
fighting propensities, evidences still remain, in various arrow
heads of flint, and stone battle-axes, occasionally digged up
about the Roost : of his wizard powers, we have a token in a
spring which wells up at the foot of the bank, on the very
margin of the river, which, it is said, was gifted by him with
rejuvenating powers, something like the renowned Fountain of
Youth in the Floridas, so anxiously but vainly sought after by
the veteran Ponce de Leon. This story, however, is stoutly
contradicted by an old Dutch matter-of-fact tradition, which
declares that the spring in question was smuggled over from
Holland in a churn, by Femmetie Van Slocum, wife of Goosen
Garret Van Slocum, one of the first settlers, and that she took
it up by night, unknown to her husband, from beside their
farm-house near Rotterdam; being sure she should find no
water equal to it in the new country and she was right.
The wizard sachem had a great passion for discussing terri
torial questions, and settling boundary lines ; this kept him ia
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERT'S ROOST. 13
continual feud with the neighboring sachems, each of whom
stood up stoutly for his hand-breadth of territory ; so that there
is not a petty stream nor ragged hill in the neighborhood, that
has not been the subject of long talks and hard battles. The
sachem, however, as has been observed, was a medicine-man,
as well as warrior, and vindicated his claims by arts as well as
arms ; so that, by dint of a little hard fighting here, and hocus-
pocus there, he managed to extend his boundary-line from field
to field and stream to stream, until he found himself in legiti
mate possession of that region of hills and valleys, bright
fountains and limpid brooks, locked in by the mazy windings
of the Neperan and the Pocantico.*
This last-mentioned stream, or rather the valley through
which it flows, was the most difficult of all his acquisitions. It
lay half way to the strong-hold of the redoubtable sachem of
Sing-Sing, and was claimed by him as an integral part of his
domains. Many were the sharp conflicts between the rival
chieftains for the sovereignty of this valley, and many the
ambuscades, surprisals, and deadly onslaughts that took place
among its fastnesses, of which it grieves me much that I can
not furnish the details for the gratification of those gentle but
bloody-minded readers of both sexes, who delight in the romance
of the tomahawk and scalping-knife. Suffice it to say that the
wizard chieftain was at length victorious, though his victory is
attributed in Indian tradition to a great medicine or charm by
which he laid the sachem of Sing-Sing and his warriors asleep
among the rocks and recesses of the valley, where they remain
asleep to the present day with their bows and war-clubs beside
them. This was the origin of that potent and drowsy spell
which still prevails over the valley of the Pocantico, and which
has gained it the well-merited appellation of Sleepy Hollow.
Often, in secluded and quiet parts of that valley, where the
stream is overhung by dark woods and rocks, the ploughman,
*As EVERY one may not recognize these boundaries by their original Indian
names, it may be well to observe, that the Neperan is that beautiful stream, vul,
garly called the Saw-Mill River, which, after winding gracefully for many miles
through a lovely valley, shrouded by groves, and dotted by Dutch farm-houses,
empties itself into the Hudson, at the ancient dorp of Yonkers. The Pocantico is
that hitherto nameless brook, that, rising among woody hills, winds in many a
wizard maze through the sequestered haunts of Sleepy Hollow. We owe it to the
indefatigable researches of Mr. KNICKERBOCKER, that those beautiful streams are
rescued from modern common-place, and reinvested with their ancient Indian
names. The correctness of the venerable historian may be ascertained, by refer
ence to the records of the original Indian grants to the Herr Frederick Philipsen,
preserved in the county clerk's office, at White Plains.
14 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
on some calm and sunny day as he shouts to his oxen, is sur
prised at hearing faint shouts from the hill-sides in reply;
being, it is said, the spell-bound warriors, who half start from
their rorV y couches and grasp their weapons, but sink to sleep
again.
The conquest of the Pocantico was the last triumph of the
wizard sachem. Notwithstanding all his medicine and charms,
he fell in battle in attempting to extend his boundary line to
the east so as to take in the little wild valley of the Sprain,
and his grave is still shown near the banks of that pastoral
stream. He left, however, a great empire to his successors,
extending along the Tappan Zee, from Yonkers quite to Sleepy
Hollow ; all which delectable region, if every one had his right,
would still acknowledge allegiance to the lord of the Roost
whoever he might be.*
The wizard sachem was succeeded by a line of chiefs, of
whom nothing remarkable remains on record. The last who
makes any figure in history is the one who ruled here at the
time of the discovery of the country by the white man. This
sachem is said to have been a renowned trencherman, who
maintained almost as potent a sway by dint of good feeding as
his warlike predecessor had done by hard fighting. He dili
gently cultivated the growth of oysters along the aquatic
borders of his territories, and founded those great oyster-beds
which yet exist along the shores of the Tappan Zee. Did any
dispute occur between him and a neighboring sachem, he in
vited him and all his principal sages and fighting-men to a
solemn banquet, and seldom failed of feeding them into terms.
Enormous heaps of oyster-shells, which encumber the lofty
banks of the river, remain as monuments of his gastronomical
victories, and have been occasionally adduced through mistake
by amateur geologists from town, as additional proofs of the
deluge. Modern investigators, who are making such indefati
gable researches into our early history, have even affirmed that
this sachem was the very individual on whom Master Hendrick
Hudson and his mate, Robert Juet, made that sage and
* In recording the contest for the sovereignty of Sleepy Hollow, I have called
one gachem by the modern name of his castle or strong-hold, viz. : Sing-Sing. This,
I would observe for the sake of historical exactness, is a corruption of the old
Indian name, O-sin-sing, or rather O-sin-gong; that is to say, a place where any
thing may be had for a song a great recommendation for a market town. The
modern and melodious alteration of the name to Sing-Sing is said to have been
made in compliment to an eminent Methodist singing-master, who first introduced
into the neighborhood the art of simymj through the nose. D. K.
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERTS ROOST. 15
astounding experiment so gravely recorded by the latter in his
narrative of the voyage: "Our master and his mate deter
mined to try some of the cheefe men of the country whether
they had any treacherie in them. So they took them down
into the cabin and gave them so much wine and aqua vitae
that they were all very merrie ; one of them had his wife with
him, which sate so modestly as any of our countrywomen
would do in a strange place. In the end one of them was
drunke ; and that was strange to them, for they could not tell
how to take it."*
How far Master Hendrick Hudson and his worthy mate car
ried their experiment with the sachem's wife is not recorded,
neither does the curious Robert Juet make any mention of the
after-consequences of this grand moral test; tradition, how
ever, affirms that the sachem on landing gave his modest
spouse a hearty rib-roasting, according to the connubial disci
pline of the aboriginals ; it farther affirms that he remained a
hard drinker to the day of his death, trading away all his
lands, acre by acre, for aqua vitse ; by which means the Roost
and all its domains, from Yonkers to Sleepy Hollow, came, in
the regular course of trade and by right of purchase, into the
possession of the Dutchmen.
Never has a territorial right in these new countries been
more legitimately and tradefully established ; yet, I grieve to
say, the worthy government of the New Netherlands was not
suffered to enjoy this grand acquisition unmolested ; for, in the
year 1654, the losel Yankees of Connecticut those swapping,
bargaining, squatting enemies of the Manhattoes made a
daring inroad into this neighborhood and founded a colony
called Westchester, or, as the ancient Dutch records term it,
Vest Dorp, in the right of one Thomas Pell, who pretended to
have purchased the whole surrounding country of the Indians,
1 and stood ready to argue their claims before any tribunal of
Christendom.
This happened during the chivalrous reign of Peter Stuyve-
sant, and it roused the ire of that gunpowder old hero ; who,
without waiting to discuss claims and titles, pounced at once
upon the nest of nefarious squatters, carried off twenty-five of
them in chains to the Manhattoes, nor did he stay his hand,
nor give rest to his wooden leg, until he had driven every
Yankee back into the bounds of Connecticut, or obliged him
* See Juet's Journal. Purchas Pilgrim.
16 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
to acknowledge allegiance to their High Mightinesses. He
then established certain out-posts, far in the Indian country,
to keep an eye over these debateable lands; one of these
border-holds was the Roost, being accessible from New Amster
dam by water, and easily kept supplied. The Yankees, how
ever, had too great a hankering after this delectable region to
give it up entirely. Some remained and swore allegiance to
the Manhattoes ; but, while they kept this open semblance of
fealty, they went to work secretly and vigorously to inter
marry and multiply, and by these nefarious means, artfully
propagated themselves into possession of a wide tract of those
open, arable parts of Westchester county, lying along the
Sound, where their descendants may be found at the present
day ; while the mountainous regions along the Hudson, with
the valleys of the Neperan and the Pocantico, are tenaciously
held by the lineal descendants of the Copperheads.
THE chronicle of the venerable Diedrich here goes on to relate
how that, shortly after the above-mentioned events, the whole
province of the New Netherlands was subjugated by the
British ; how that Wolf ert Acker, one of the wrangling coun
cillors of Peter Stuyvesant, retired in dudgeon to this fastness
in the wilderness, determining to enjoy "lust in rust" for the
remainder of his days, whence the place first received its name
of Wolfert's Roost. As these and sundry other matters have
been laid before the public in a preceding article, I shall pass
them over, and resume foe chronicle where it treats of matters
not hitherto recorded:
LIKE many men who retire from a worrying world, says
DIEDRICH KNICKERBOCKER, to enjoy quiet in the country, Wol-
fert Acker soon found himself up to the ears in trouble. He
had a termagant wife at home, and there was what is profanely
called "the deuce to pay," abroad. The recent irruption of
the Yankees into the bounds of the New Netherlands, had left
behind it a doleful pestilence, such as is apt to follow the steps
of invading armies. This was the deadly plague of witchcraft,
which had long been prevalent to the eastward. The malady
broke out at Vest Dorp, and threatened to spread throughout
the country. The Dutch burghers along the Hudson, from
Yonkers to Sleepy Hollow, hastened to nail horse-shoes to their
doors, which have ever been found of sovereign virtue to repel
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERTS ROOST. 17
this awful visitation. This is the origin of the horse-shoes
which may still be seen nailed to the doors of barns and farm
houses, in various parts of this sage and sober-thoughted
region.
The evil, however, bore hard upon the Roost; partly, per
haps, from its having in old times been subject to supernatural
influences, during the sway of the Wizard Sachem; but it has
always, in fact, been considered a fated mansion. The unlucky
Yv'olfert had no rest day nor night. When the weather was
quiet all over the country, the wind would howl and whistle
round his roof ; witches would ride and whirl upon his weather
cocks, and scream down his chimneys. His cows gave bloody
milk, and his horses broke bounds, and scampered into the
woods. There were not wanting evil tongues to whisper that
Woli'ert's termagant wife had some tampering with the enemy ;
and that she even attended a witches' Sabbath in Sleepy Hol
low ; nay, a neighbor, who lived hard by, declared that he saw
her harnessing a rampant broom-stick, and about to ride to the
meeting; though others presume it was merely flourished in
the course of one of her curtain lectures, to give energy and
emphasis to a period. Certain it is, that Wolfert Acker nailed
a horse-shoe to the front door, during one of her nocturnal
excursions, to prevent her return; but as she re-entered the
house without any difficulty, it is probable she was not so
much of a witch as she was represented.*
After the time of Wolfert Acker, a long interval elapses,
about which but little is known. It is hoped, however, that
the antiquarian researches so diligently making in every part
* HISTORICAL NOTE. The annexed extracts from the early colonial records, re
late to the Irruption of witchcraft into Westchester county, as mentioned in the
chronicle:
' JI:LY 7, 1670. Katharine Harryson, accused of witchcraft on complaint of Tho-
'.n.as Hunt and Edward Waters, in behalf of the town, who pray that she may be
driven from the town of Westchester. The woman appears before the council.
.... She was a native of England, and had lived a year in Weathersfleld, Con
necticut, where she had been tried for witchcraft, found guilty by the jury, ac
quitted by the bench, and released out of prison, upon condition she would remove.
Affair adjourned.
" AUGUST 24. Affair taken up again, when, being heard at large, it was referred
to the general court of assize. Woman ordered to give security for good behavior,"
etc.
In another place is the following entry :
" Order given for Katharine Harryson, charged with witchcraft, to leave Weet-
chester, as the inhabitants are uneasy at her residing there, and she is ordered t
SCO Off."
18 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
of this new country, may yet throw some light upon what may
be termed the Dark Ages of the Roost.
The next period at which we find this venerable and eventful
pile rising to importance, and resuming its old belligerent char
acter, is during the revolutionary war. It was at that time
owned by Jacob Van Tassel, or Van Texel, as the name was
originally spelled, after the place in Holland which gave birth
to this heroic line. He was strong-built, long-limbed, and as
stout in soul as in body ; a fit successor to the warrior sachem
of yore, and, like him, delighting in extravagant enterprises
and hardy deeds of arms. But, before I enter upon the ex
ploits of this worthy cock of the Roost, it is fitting I should
throw some light upon the state of the mansion, and of the
surrounding country, at the time.
The situation of the Roost is in the very heart of what was
the debateable ground between the American and British lines,
during the war. The British held possession of the city of New
York, and the island of Manhattan on which it stands. The
Americans drew up toward the Highlands, holding their head
quarters at Peekskill. The intervening country, from Croton
River to Spiting Devil Creek, was the debateable land, subject
to be harried by friend and foe, like the Scottish borders of
yore. It is a rugged country, with a line of rocky hills extend
ing through it, like a back bone, sending ribs on either side ;
but among these rude hills are beautiful winding valleys, like
those watered by the Pocantico and the Neperan. In the fast
nesses of these hills, and along these valleys, exist a race of
hard-headed, hard-handed, stout-hearted Dutchmen, descend
ants of the primitive Nederlanders. Most of these were strong
whigs throughout the war, and have ever remained obstinately
attached to the soil, and neither to be fought nor bought out of
their paternal acres. Others were tones, and adherents to the
'old kingly rule; some of whom took refuge within the British
(lines, joined the royal bands of refugees, a name odious to the
American ear, and occasionally returned to harass their an
cient neighbors.
In a little while, this debateable land was overrun by preda
tory bands from either side; sacking hen-roosts, plundering
farm-houses, and driving off cattle. Hence arose those two
great orders of border chivalry, the Skinners and the Cow
boys, famous in the heroic annals of Westchestor county. The
former fought, or rather marauded, under the American, the
latter under the British banner} but both, in the hurry of their
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFEET'S BOOST. 19
military ardor, were apt to err on the safe side, and rob friend
as well as foe. Neither of them stopped to ask the politics of
horse or cow, which they drove into captivity ; nor, when they
wrung the neck of a rooster, did they trouble their heads to
ascertain whether he were crowing for Congress or King
George.
While this marauding system prevailed on shore, the Great
Tappan Sea, which washes this belligerent region, was domi
neered over by British frigates and other vessels of war, an
chored here and there, to keep an eye upon the river, and
maintain a communication between the various military posts.
Stout galleys, also, armed with eighteen- pounders, and navi
gated with sails and oars, cruised about like hawks, ready to
pounce upon their prey.
All these were eyed with bitter hostility by the Dutch yeo
manry along shore, who were indignant at seeing their great
Mediterranean ploughed by hostile prows ; and would occasion-
ally throw up a mud breast- work on a point or promontory,
mount an old iron field-piece, and fire away at the enemy,
though the greatest harm was apt to happen to themselves
from the bursting of their ordnance ; nay, there was scare* a
Dutchman along the river that would hesitate to fire with his
long duck gun at any British cruiser that came within reach,
as he had been accustomed to fire at water-fowl.
I have been thus particular in my account of the times and
neighborhood, that the reader might the more readily com
prehend the surrounding dangers in this the Heroic Age of the
Roost.
It was commanded at the time, as I have already observed,
by the stout Jacob Van Tassel. As I wish to be extremely
accurate in this part of my chronicle, I beg that this Jacob
Van Tassel of the Roost may not be confounded with another
Jacob Van Tassel, commonly known in border story by the
name of "Clump-footed Jake, "a noted tory, and one of the
refugee band of Spiting Devil. On the contrary, he of the
Roost was a patriot of the first water, and, if we may take his
own word for granted, a thorn in the side of the enemy. As
the Roost, from its lonely situation on the water's edge, might
be liable to attack, he took measures for defence. On a row
of hooks above his fire-place, reposed his great piece of ord'
nance, ready charged and primed for action. This was a
duck, or rather goose-gun, of unparalleled longitude, with
which it was said he could kill a wild goose, though half-waj
20 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
across the Tappan Sea. Indeed, there are as many wonders
told of this renowned gun, as of the enchanted weapons of the
heroes of classic story.
In different parts of the stone walls of his mansion, he had
made loop-holes, through which he might fire upon an assail
ant. His wife was stout-hearted as himself, and could load as
fast as he could fire ; and then he had an ancient and redoubtable
sister, Nochie Van Wurmer, a match, as he said, for the stout
est man in the country. Thus garrisoned, the little Roost was
fit to stand a siege, and Jacob Van Tassel was the man to defend
it to the last charge of powder.
He was, as I have already hinted, of pugnacious propensities ;
and, not content with being a patriot at home, and fighting for
the security of his own fireside, he extended his thoughts
abroad, and entered into a confederacy with certain of the
bold, hard-riding lads of Tarrytown, Petticoat Lane, and Sleepy
Hollow, who formed a kind of Holy Brotherhood, scouring the
country to clear it of Skinner and Cow-boy, and all other bor
der vermin. The Roost was one of their rallying points. Did
a band of marauders from Manhattan island come sweeping
through the neighborhood, and driving off cattle, the stout
Jacob and his compeers were soon clattering at their heels, and
fortunate did the rogues esteem themselves if they could but
get a part of their booty across the lines, or escape themselves
without a rough handling. Should the mosstroopers succeed
in passing with their cavalgada, with thundering tramp and
dusty whirlwind, across Kingsbridge, the Holy Brotherhood of
the Roost would rein up at that perilous pass, and, wheeling
about, would indemnify themselves by foraging the refugee
region of Morrisania.
When at home at the Roost, the stout Jacob was not idle ;
but was prone to carry on a petty warfare of his own, for his
private recreation and refreshment. Did he ever chance to
espy, from his look-out place, a hostile ship or galley anchored
or becalmed near shore, he would uike down his long goose-gun
from the hooks over the fire-place, sally out alone, and lurk
along shore, dodging behind rocks and trees, and watching for
hours together, like a veteran mouser intent on a rat-hole. So
sure as a boat put off for shore, and came within shot, bang!
went the great goose-gun; a shower of slugs and buck-shot
whistled about the ears of the enemy, and before the boat could
reach the shore, Jacob had scuttled up some woody ravine, and
left no trace behind.
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERTS ROOST. 21
About this time, the Roost experienced a vast accession of
warlike importance, in being made one of the stations of the
water-guard. This was a kind of aquatic corps of observation,
composed of long, sharp, canoe-shaped boats, technically called
whale-boats, that lay lightly on the water, and could be rowed
with great rapidity. They were manned by resolute fellows,
skilled at pulling an oar, or handling a musket. These lurked
about in nooks and bays, and behind those long promontories
which run out into the Tappan Sea, keeping a look-out, to give
notice of the approach or movements of hostile ships. They
roved about in pairs; sometimes at night, with muffled oars,
gliding like spectres about frigates and guard-ships riding at
anchor, cutting off any boats that made for shore, and keeping
the enemy in constant uneasiness. These musquito-cruisers
generally kept aloof by day, so that their harboring places
might not be discovered, but would pull quietly along, under
shadow of the shore, at night, to take up their quarters at the
Boost. Hither, at such time, would also repair the hard-riding
lads of the hills, to hold secret councils of war with the "ocean
chivalry;" and in these nocturnal meetings were concerted
many of those daring forays, by land and water, that resounded
throughout the border.
THE chronicle here goes on to recount divers wonderful
stories of the wars of the Roost, from which it would seem,
that this little warrior nest carried the terror of its arms into
every sea, from Spiting Devil Creek to Antony's Nose ; that it
even bearded the stout island of Manhattan, invading it at
night, penetrating to its centre, and burning down the famous
Delancey house, the conflagration of which makes such a blaze
in revolutionary history. Nay more, in their extravagant dar
ing, these cocks of the Roost meditated a nocturnal descent
upon New York itself, to swoop upon the British commanders,
Howe and Clinton, by surprise, bear them off captive, and per
haps put a triumphant close to the war !
All these and many similar exploits are recorded by the
worthy Diedrich, with his usual minuteness and enthusiasm,
whenever the deeds in arms of his kindred Dutchmen are in
question ; but though most of these warlike stories rest upon
the best of all authority, that of the warriors themselves, and
though many of them are still current among the revolutionary
patriarchs of this heroic neighborhood, yet I dare not expose
22 TOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
them to the incredulity of a tamer and loss chivalric age.
Suffice it to say, the frequent gatherings at the Roost, and
the hardy projects set on foot there, at length drew on it the
fiery indignation of the enemy ; and this was quickened by the
conduct of the stout Jacob Van Tassel ; with whose valorous
achievements we resume the course of the chronicle.
THIS doughty Dutchman, continues the sage DIEDRICII
KNICKERBOCKER, was not content with taking a share in all the
magnanimous enterprises concocted at the Roost, but still con
tinued his petty warfare along shore. A series of exploits at
length raised his confidence in his prowess to such a height,
that he began to think himself and his goose-gun a match for
any thing. Unluckily, in the course of one of his prowlings,
he descried a British transport aground, not far from shore,
with her stern swung toward the land, within point-blank shot.
The temptation was too great to be resisted; bang! as usual,
went the great goose-gun, shivering the cabin windows, and
driving all hands forward. Bang! bang! the shots were
repeated. The reports brought several sharp-shooters of the
neighborhood to the spot ; before the transport could bring a
gun to bear, or land a boat, to take revenge, she was soundly
peppered, and the coast evacuated. This was the last of
Jacob's triumphs. He fared like some heroic spider, that has
unwittingly ensnared a hornet, to his immortal glory, perhaps,
but to the utter ruin of his web.
It was not long after this, during the absence of Jacob Van
Tassel on one of his forays, and when no one was in garrison
but his stout-hearted spouse, his redoubtable sister, Nochie Van
Wurmer, and a strapping negro wench, called Dinah, that an
armed vessel came to anchor off the Roost, and a boat full of
men pulled to shore. The garrison flew to arms, that is to say,
to mops, broom-sticks, shovels, tongs, and all kinds of domestic
weapons; for, unluckily, the great piece of ordnance, the
goose-gun, was absent with its owner. Above all, a vigorous
defence was made with that most potent of female weapons,
the tongue. Never did invaded hen-roost make a more vocifer
ous outcry. It was all in vain. The house was sacked and
plundered, fire was set to each corner, and in a few momenta
its blaze shed a baleful light far over the Tappan Sea. The
invaders then pounced upon the blooming Laney Van Tassel, the
beauty of the Roost, and endeavored to boor her off to the boat.
A CHRONICLE OF WOLFERTS ROOST. 23
But here was the real tug of war. The mother, the aunt, and
the strapping negro wench, all flew to the rescue. The struggle
continue*! down to the very water's edge; when a voice from
the armed vessel at anchor, ordered the spoilers to let go their
hold; they relinquished their prize, jumped into their boats,
and pulled off, and the heroine of the Roost escaped with a
mere rumpling of the feathers.
THE fear of tiring my readers, who may not take such an
interest as myself in these heroic themes, induces me to close
here my extracts from this precious chronicle of the venerable
Diedrich. Suffice it briefly to say, that shortly after the
catastrophe of the Roost, Jacob Van Tassel, hi the course
of one of his forays, fell into the hands of the British ; was
sent prisoner to New York, and was detained in captivity for
the greater part of the war. In the mean tune, the Roost
remained a melancholy ruin ; its stone walls and brick chim
neys alone standing, blackened by fire, and the resort of bats
and owlets. It was not until the return of peace, when this
belligerent neighborhood once more resumed its quiet agricul
tural pursuits, that the stout Jacob sought the scene of his tri
umphs and disasters-, rebuilt the Roost, and reared again on
high its glittering weather-cocks.
Does any one want further particulars of the fortunes of
this e veil tf id little pile? Let him go to the fountain-head, and
drink deep of historic truth. Reader! the stout Jacob Van
Tassel still lives, a venerable, gray-headed patriarch of the rev
olution, now in his ninety-fifth year! He sits by his fireside,
in the ancient city of the Manhattoes, and passes the long win
ter evenings, surrounded by his children, and grand-children,
and great-grand-children, all listening to his tales of the border
wars, and the heroic days of the Roost. His great goose-gun,
too, is still in existence, having been preserved for many
years in a hollow tree, and passed from hand to hand among
the Dutch burghers, as a precious relique of the revolution.
It is now actually in possession of a contemporary of the stout
Jacob, one almost las equal in years, who treasures it up at his
house hi the Boworia of New- Amsterdam, hard by the ancient
rural retreat of iho chivalric Peter Stuyvesant. I am not
without hopes of one day seeing this formidable piece of
ordinance restored to its proper station in the arsenal of the
Roosi.
24 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
Before closing this historic document, I cannot but advert to
certain notions and traditions concerning the venerable pile in
question. Old-time edifices are apt to gather odd fancies and
superstitions about them, as they do moss and weather-stains ;
and this is in a neighborhood a little given to old-fashioned
notions, and who look upon the Roost as somewhat of a fated
mansion. A lonely, rambling, down-hill lane leads to it, over
hung with trees, with a wild brook dashing along, and crossing
and re-crossing it. This lane I found some of the good people
of the neighborhood shy of treading at night ; why, I could not
for a long time ascertain ; until I learned that one or two of the
rovers of the Tappan Sea, shot by the stout Jacob during the
war, had been buried hereabout, in unconsecrated ground.
Another local superstition is of a less gloomy kind, and one
which I confess I am somewhat disposed to cherish. The Tap-
pan Sea, in front of the Roost, is about three miles wide, bor
dered by a lofty line of waving and rocky hills. Often, in the
still twilight of a summer evening, when the sea is like glass,
with the opposite hills throwing their purple shadows hah*
across it, a low sound is heard, as of the steady, vigorous pull
of oars, far out in the middle of the stream, though not a boat
is to be descried. This I should have been apt to ascribe to
some boat rowed along under the shadows of the western
shore, for sounds are conveyed to a great distance by water, at
such quiet hours, and I can distinctly hear the baying of the
watch-dogs at night, from the farms on the sides of the opposite
mountains. The ancient traditionists of the neighborhood,
however, religiously ascribed these sounds to a judgment upon
one Rumbout Van Dam, of Spiting Devil, who danced and
drank late one Saturday night, at a Dutch quilting frolic, at
Kakiat, and set off alone for home in his boat, on the verge of
Sunday morning ; swearing he would not land till he reached
Spiting Devil, if it took him a month of Sundays. He was
never seen afterward, but is often heard plying his oars across
the Tappan Sea, a Flying Dutchman on a small scale, suited to
the size of his cruising-ground ; being doomed to ply between
Kakiat and Spiting Devil till the day of judgment, but never
to reach the land.
There is one room in the mansion which almost overhangs
the river, and is reputed to be haunted by the ghost of a
young lady who died of love and green apples. I have been
awakened at night by the sound of oars and the tinkling of
guitars beneath the window j and seeing a boat loitering in the
SLEEPT HOLLOW. 25
moonlight, have "been tempted to believe it the Flying Dutch
man of Spiting Devil, and to try whether a silver bullet might
not put an end to his unhappy cruisings ; but, happening to
recollect that there was a living young lady in the haunted
room, who might be terrified by the report of fire-arms, I have
refrained from pulling trigger.
As to the enchanted fountain, said to have been gifted by the
wizard sachem with supernatural powers, it still wells up at the
foot of the bank, on the margin of the river, and goes by the
name of the Indian spring; but I have my doubts as to its
rejuvenating powers, for though I have drank oft and copi
ously of it, I cannot boast that I find myself growing younger.
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
SLEEPY HOLLOW.
BY GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT.
HAVING pitched my tent, probably for the remainder of my
days, in the neighborhood of Sleepy Hollow, I am tempted to
give some few particulars concerning that spell-bound region ;
especially as it has risen to historic importance under the pen
of my revered friend and master, the sage historian of the New
Netherlands. Beside, I find the very existence of the place has
been held in question by many; who, judging from its odd
name and from the odd stories current among the vulgar con
cerning it, have rashly deemed the whole to be a fanciful crea
tion, like the Lubber Land of mariners. I must confess there
is some apparent cause for doubt, in consequence of the color
ing given by the worthy Diedrich to his descriptions of the
Hollow ; who, in this instance, has departed a little from his
usually sober if not severe style ; beguiled, very probably, by
his predilection for the haunts of his youth, and by a certain
lurking taint of romance whenever any thing connected with
the Dutch was to be described. I shall endeavor to make up
for this amiable error on the part of my venerable and vener
ated friend by presenting the reader with a more precise and
statistical account of the Hollow ; though I am not sure that I
shall not be prone to lapso in the end into the very error I am
speaking of, so potent is the witchery of the theme.
I believe it was the very peculiarity of its name and the idee
26 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
of something mystic and dreamy connected with it that first
led me in my boyish ramblings into Sleepy Hollow. The
character of the valley seemed to answer to the name ; the
slumber of past ages apparently reigned over it ; it had not
awakened to the stir of improvement which had put all the rest
of the world in a bustle. Here reigned good, old long-forgotten
fashions; the men were in home-spun garbs, evidently the
product of their own farms and the manufacture of their own
wives ; the women were in primitive short gowns and petticoats,
with the venerable sun-bonnets of Holland origin. The lower
part of the valley was cut up into small farms, each consisting
of a little meadow and corn-field; an orchard of sprawling,
gnarled apple-trees, and a garden, where the rose, the marigold,
and the hollyhock were permitted to skirt the domains of the
capacious cabbage, the aspiring pea, and the portly pumpkin.
Each had its prolific little mansion teeming with children ; with
an old hat nailed against the wall for the housekeeping wren;
a motherly hen, under a coop on the grass-plot, clucking to
keep around her a brood of vagrant chickens ; a cool, stone
well, with the moss-covered bucket suspended to the long bal
ancing-pole, according to the antediluvian, idea of hydraulics ;
and its spinning-wheel humming "within doors, the patriarchal
music of home manufacture.
The Hollow at that time was inhabited by families which
had existed there from the earliest times, and which, by fre
quent intermarriage, had become so interwoven, as to make a
kind of natural commonwealth. As the families had grown
larger the farms had grown smaller; every new generation
requiring a new subdivision, and few thinking of swarming
from the native hive. In this way that happy golden mean
had been produced, so much extolled by the poets, in which
there was no gold and very little silver. One thing which
doubtless contributed to keep up this amiable mean was a
general repugnance to sordid labor. The sage inhabitants of
Sleepy Hollow had read in their Bible, which was the only
book they studied, that labor was originally inflicted upon man
as a punishment of sin ; they regarded it, therefore, with pious
abhorrence, and never humiliated themselves to it but in cases
of extremity. There seemed, in fact, to be a league and
covenant against it throughout the Hollow as against a common
enemy. Was any one compelled by dire necessity to repair
his house, mend his fences, build a barn, or get in a harvest,
he considered it a great evil that entitled him to call in the
SLEEPY HOLLOW. 27
assistance of his friends. He accordingly proclaimed a ' bee,'
or rustic gathering, whereupon all his neighbors hurried to his
ai t like faithful allies ; attacked the task with the desperate
energy of lazy men eager to overcome a job ; and, when it was
f/jcomplished, fell to eating and drinking, fiddling and danc-
iag for very joy that so great an amount of labor had been van
quished with so little sweating of the brow.
Yet, let it not be supposed that this worthy community was
v/ithout its periods of arduous activity. Let but a flock of
wild pigeons fly across the valley and all Sleepy Hollow was
wide awake in an instant. The pigeon season had arrived !
Every gun and net was forthwith in requisition. The flail was
thrown down on the barn floor ; the spade rusted in the garden ;
the plough stood idle in the furrow ; every one was to the hill
side and stubble-field at daybreak to shoot or entrap the
pigeons in their periodical migrations.
So, likewise, let but the word be given that the shad were
ascending the Hudson, and the worthies of the Hollow were to
be seen launched in boats upon the river setting great stakes,
and stretching their nets like gigantic spider-webs half across
the stream to the great annoyance of navigators. Such are the
wise provisions of Nature, by which she equalizes rural affairs.
A laggard at the plough is often extremely industrious with
the fowling-piece and fishing-net ; and, whenever a man is an
indifferent farmer, he is apt to be a first-rate sportsman. For
catching shad and wild pigeons there were none throughout
the country tc> compare with the lads of Sleepy Hollow.
As I have observed, it was the dreamy nature of the name
that first beguiled me in the holiday rovings of boyhood into
this sequestered region. I shunned, however, the populous
parts of the Hollow, and sought its retired haunts far in the
foldings of the hills, where the Pocantico " winds its wizard
stream " sometimes silently and darkly through solemn wood
lands ; sometimes sparkling between grassy borders in fresh,
green meadows ; sometimes stealing along the feet of rugged
heights under the balancing sprays of beech and chestnut
trees. A thousand crystal springs, with which this neighbor
hood abounds, sent down from the hill-sides their whimpering
rills, as if to pay tribute to the Pocantico. In this stream I
first essayed my unskilful hand at angling. I loved to loiter
along it with rod in hand, watching my float as it whirled
amid the eddies or drifted into dark holes under twisted roots
sunken logs, where the largest fish are apt to lurk. I
28 WOLFERTS ROOS'f AND MISCELLANIES.
delighted to follow it into the brown recesses of the woods ; to
throw by my fishing-gear and sit upon rocks beneath towering
oaks and clambering grape-vines; bathe my feet in the cool
current, and listen to the summer breeze playing among the
tree-tops. My boyish fancy clothed all nature around me with
ideal charms, and peopled it with the fairy beings I had read
pf in poetry and fable. Here it was I gave full scope to my
'incipient habit of day-dreaming, and to a certain propensity,
to weave up and tint sober realities with my own whims and
imaginings, which has sometimes made life a little too much
like an Arabian tale to me, and this "working-day world"
rather like a region of romance.
The great gathering-place of Sleepy Hollow in those days was
the church. It stood outside of the Hollow, near the great
highway, on a green bank shaded by trees, with the Pocantico
sweeping round it and emptying itself into a spacious mill-
pond. At that time the Sleepy Hollow church was the only
place of worship for a wide neighborhood. It was a venerable
edifice, partly of stone and partly of brick, the latter having
been brought from Holland in the early days of the province,
before the arts in the New Netherlands could aspire to such a
fabrication. On a stone above the porch were inscribed the
names of the founders, Frederick Filipsen, a mighty patroon of
the olden time, who reigned over a wide extent of this neigh
borhood and held his seat of power at Yonkers ; and his wife,
Katrina Van Courtlandt, of the no less potent line of the Van
Courtlandts of Croton, who lorded it over a great part of the
Highlands.
The capacious pulpit, with its wide-spreading sounding-
board, were likewise early importations from Holland ; as also
the communion-table, of massive form and curious fabric.
The same might be said of a weather-cock perched on top of
the belfry, and which was considered orthodox in all windy
matters, until a small pragmatical rival was set up on the other
end of the church above the chancel. This latter bore, and
still bears, the initials of Frederick Filipsen, and assumed great
airs in consequence. The usual contradiction ensued that
always exists among church weather-cocks, which can never
be brought to agree as to the point from which the wind blows,
having doubtless acquired, from their position, the Christian
propensity to schism and controversy.
Behind the church, and sloping up a gentle acclivity, was its
capacious burying-ground, in which slept the earliest fathers
SLEEPY HOLLOW. 29
of this rural neighborhood. Here were tombstones of the
rudest sculpture; on which were inscribed, in Dutch, the
names and virtues of many of the first settlers, with their
portraitures curiously carved in similitude of cherubs. Long
rows of grave-stones, side by side, of similar names, but various
dates, showed that generation after generation of the same
families had followed each other and been garnered together in
this last gathering- place of kindred.
Let me speak of this quiet grave-yard with all due rever
ence, for I owe it amends for the heedlessness of my boyish
days. I blush to acknowledge the thoughtless frolic with
which, in company with other whipsters, I have sported within
its sacred bounds during the intervals of worship; chasing
butterflies, plucking wild flowers, or vying with each other
who could leap over the tallest tomb-stones, until checked by
the stern voice of the sexton.
The congregation was, in those days, of a really rural char
acter. City fashions were as yet unknown, or unregarded, by
the country people of the neighborhood. Steam-boats had not
as yet confounded town with country. A weekly market-boat
from Tarrytown, the "Farmers' Daughter," navigated by the
worthy Gabriel Requa, was the only communication between
all these parts and the metropolis. A rustic belle in those days
considered a visit to the city in much the same light as one of
our modern fashionable ladies regards a visit to Europe; an
event that may possibly take place once in the course of a life
time, but to be hoped for, rather than expected. Hence the
array of the congregation was chiefly after the primitive fash
ions existing in Sleepy Hollow; or if, by chance, there was a
departure from the Dutch sun-bonnet, or the apparition of a
bright gown of flowered calico, it caused quite a sensation
throughout the church. As the dominie generally preached
by the hour, a bucket of water was providently placed on a
bench near the door, in summer, with a tin cup beside it, for
the solace of those who might be athirst, either from the heat
of the weather, or the drouth of the sermon.
Around the pulpit, and behind the communion-table, sat the
elders of the church, reverend, gray -headed, leathern-visaged
men, whom I regarded with awe, as so many apostles. They
were stern in their sanctity, kept a vigilant eye upon my
giggling companions and myself, and shook a rebuking finger
at any boyish device to relieve the tediousness of compulsory
devotion. Vain, however, were all their efforts at vigilance.
30 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
Scarcely had the preacher held forth for half an hour, on one
of his interminable sermons, than it seemed as if the drowsy
influence of Sleepy Hollow breathed into the place ; one by one
the congregation sank into slumber; the sanctified elders
leaned back in their pews, spreading their handkerchiefs over
their faces, as if to keep off the flies ; while the locusts in the
j neighboring trees would spin out their sultry summer notes, as
! if in imitation of the sleep-provoking tones of the dominie.
I have thus endeavored to give an idea of Sleepy Hollow and
its church, as I recollect them to have been in the days of my
boyhood. It was in my stripling days, when a few years had
passed over my head, that I revisited them, in company with
the venerable Diedrich. I shall never forget the antiquarian
reverence with which that sage and excellent man contem
plated the church. It seemed as if all his pious enthusiasm for
the ancient Dutch dynasty swelled within his bosom at the
sight. The tears stood in his eyes, as he regarded the pulpit
and the communion- table ; even the very bricks that had come
from the mother countiy, seemed to touch a filial chord within
his bosom. He almost bowed in deference to the stone above
the porch, containing the names of Frederick Filipsen and
Katrina Van Courtlandt, regarding it as the linking together
of those patronymic names, once so famous along the banks of
the Hudson; or rather as a key-stone, binding that mighty
Dutch family connexion of yore, one foot of which rested on
Yonkers, and the other on the Croton. Nor did he forbear
to notice with admiration, the windy contest which had been
carried on, since time immemorial, and with real Dutch per
severance, between the two weather-cocks; though I could
easily perceive he coincided with the one which had come from
Holland.
Together we paced the ample church-yard. With deep
veneration would he turn down the weeds and brambles that
obscured the modest brown grave-stones, half sunk in earth, on
which were recorded, in Dutch, the names of the patriarchs of
ancient days, the Ackers, the Van Tassels, and the Van Warts.
As we sat on one of the tomb-stones, he recounted to me the
exploits of many of these worthies ; and my heart smote me,
when I heard of their great doings in days of yore, to think
how heedlessly I had once sported over their graves.
From the church, the venerable Diedrich proceeded in his
researches up the Hollow. The genius of the place seemed
to hail its future historian. All nature was alive with gi-atula-
SLEEPY HOLLOW. 31
tion. The quail whittled a greeting from the corn-field; the
robin carolled a song of praise from the orchard; the loqua
cious catbird flew from bush to bush, with restless wing, pro
claiming his approach in every variety of note, and anon
would whisk about, and perk inquisitively into Ms face, as if
to get a knowledge of his physiognomy ; the wood-pecker, also,
tapped a tattoo on the hollow apple-tree, and then peered
knowingly round the trunk, to see how the great Diedrich
relished his salutation; while the ground-squirrel scampered
along the fence, and occasionally whisked his tail over his head,
by way of a huzza !
The worthy Diedrich pursued his researches in the valley
with characteristic devotion ; entering familiarly into the vari
ous cottages, and gossiping with the simple folk, in the style
of their own simplicity. I confess my heart yearned with
admiration, to see so great a man, in his eager quest after
knowledge, humbly demeaning himself to curry favor with
the humblest ; sitting patiently on a three-legged stool, patting
the children, and taking a purring grimalkin on his lap, while
he conciliated the good-will of the old Dutch housewife, and
drew from her long ghost stories, spun out to the humming
accompaniment of her wheel.
His greatest treasure of historic lore, however, was dis
co veeed in an old goblin-looking mill, situated among rocks and
waterfalls, with clanking wheels, and rushing streams, and all
kinds of uncouth noises. A horse-shoe, nailed to the door to
keep off witches and evil spirits, showed that this mill was
subject to awful visitations. As we approached it, an old negro
thrust his head, all dabbled with flour, out of a hole above
the water-wJieel, and grinned, and rolled his eyes, and looked
like the very hobgoblin of the place. The illustrious Diedrich
fixed upon him, at once, as the very one to give him that in
valuable kind of information never to be acquired from books.
He beckoned him from his nest, sat with him by the hour on
a broken mill-stone, by the side of the waterfall, heedless of
the noise of the water, and the clatter of the mill ; and I verily
believe it was to his conference with this African sage, and the
precious revelations of the good dame of the spinning-wheel,
that we are indebted for the surprising though true history of
Ichabod Crane and the headless horseman, which has since
astounded and edified the world.
But I have said enough of the good old times of my youthful
days ; let me speak of the Hollow as I found it, after an ab
32 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
sence of many years, when it was kindly given me once more
to revisit the haunts of my boyhood. It was a genial day, as I
approached that fated region. The warm sunshine was tern
pered by a slight haze, so as to give a dreamy effect to the
landscape. Not a breath of air shook the foliage. The broad
Tappan Sea was without a ripple, and the sloops, with droop
ing sails, slept on its grassy bosom. Columns of smoke, from
burning brush-wood, rose lazily from the folds of the hills, on
the opposite side of the river, and slowly expanded in mid-air.
The distant lowing of a cow, or the noontide crowing of a cock,
coming faintly to the ear, seemed to illustrate, rather than dis
turb, the drowsy quiet of the scene.
I entered the hollow with a beating heart. Contrary to my
apprehensions, I found it but little changed. The march of
intellect, which had made such rapid strides along every river
and highway, had not yet, apparently, turned down into this
favored valley. Perhaps the wizard spell of ancient days
still reigned over the place, binding up the faculties of the in
habitants in happy contentment with things as they had been
handed down to them from yore. There were the same little
farms and farmhouses, with their old hats for the housekeep
ing wren; their stone wells, moss-covered buckets, and long
balancing poles. There were the same little rills, whimpering
down to pay their tributes to the Pocantico ; while that wizard
stream still kept on its course, as of old, through solemn wood
lands and fresh green meadows : nor were there wanting joy
ous holiday boys to loiter along its banks, as I have done ; throw
their pin-hooks in the stream, or launch their mimic barks. I
watched them with a kind of melancholy pleasure, wondering
whether they were under the same spell of the fancy that once
rendered this valley a fairy land to me. Alas! alas! to me
every thing now stood revealed in its simple reality. The
echoes no longer answered with wizard tongues; the dream of
youth was at an end ; the spell of Sleepy Hollow was broken !
I sought the ancient church on the following Sunday. There
it stood, on its green bank, among the trees; the Pocantico
swept by it in a deep dark stream, where I had so often
angled ; there exanded the mill-pond, as of old, with the cows
under the willows on its margin, knee-deep in water, chewing
the cud, and lashing the flies from their sides with their tails.
The hand of improvement, however, had been busy with the
venerable pile. The pulpit, fabricated in Holland, had been
superseded by one of modern construction, and the front of tho
SLEEPY HOLLOW. 33
semi-Gothic edifice was decorated by a semi-Grecian portico.
Fortunately, the two weather-cocks remained undisturbed on
their perches at each end of the church, and still kept up a
diametrical opposition to each other on all points of windy doc
trine.
On entering the church the changes of time continued to be
apparent. The elders round the pulpit were men whom I had
left in the gamesome frolic of their youth, but who had suc
ceeded to the sanctity of station of which they once had stood
so much in awe. What most struck my eye was the change in
the female part of the congregation. Instead of the primitive
garbs of homespun manufacture and antique Dutch fashion,
I beheld French sleeves, French capes, and French collars, and
a fearful-fluttering of French ribbands.
When the service was ended I sought the church-yard, in
which I had sported in my unthinking days of boyhood.
Several of the modest brown stones, on which were recorded in
Dutch the names and virtues of the patriarchs, had disap
peared, and had been succeeded by others of white marble,
with urns and wreaths, and scraps of English tomb-stone
poetry, marking the intrusion of taste and literature and the
English language in this once unsophisticated Dutch neighbor
hood.
As I was stumbling about among these silent yet eloquent me
morials of the dead, I came upon names familiar to me ; of those
who had paid the debt of nature during the long interval of my
absence. Some, I remembered, my companions in boyhood,
who had sported with me on the very sod under which they
were now mouldering ; others who in those days had been the
flower of the yeomanry, figuring in Sunday finery on the
church green; others, the white-haired elders of the sanctu
ary, once arrayed in awful sanctity around the pulpit, and
ever ready to rebuke the ill-timed mirth of the wanton strip
ling who, now a man, sobered by years and schooled by
vicissitudes, looked down pensively upon their graves. " Our
fathers," thought I, "where are they! and the prophets, can
they live for ever !"
1 was disturbed in my meditations by the noise of a troop of
idle urchins, who came gambolling about the place where I had
so often gambolled. They were checked, as I and my play
mates had often been, by the voice of the sexton, a man staid
in years and demeanor. I looked wistfully in his face ; had
I met him any where else, I should probably have passed him.
34 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
by without remark ; but here I was alive to the traces of for
iner times, and detected in the demure features of this guar
dian of the sanctuary the lurking lineaments of one of the very
playmates I have alluded to. We renewed our acquaintance.
He sat down beside me, on one of the tomb-stones over which
we had leaped in our juvenile sports, and we talked together
about our boyish days, and held edifying discourse on the in
stability of all sublunary things, as instanced in the scene around
us. He was rich in historic lore, as to the events of the last
thirty years and the circumference of thirty miles, and from
him I learned the appalling revolution that was taking place
throughout the neighborhood. All this I clearly perceived he
attributed to the boasted march of intellect, or rather to the
all-pervading influence of steam. He bewailed the times when
the only communication with town was by the weekly market-
boat, the " Farmer's Daughter," which, under the pilotage of
the worthy Gabriel Requa, braved the perils of the Tappan Sea.
Alas! Gabriel and the "Farmer's Daughter" slept in peace.
Two steamboats now splashed and paddled up daily to the little
rural port of Tarrytown. The spirit of speculation and improve
ment had seized even upon that once quiet and unambitious lit
tle dorp. The whole neighborhood was laid out into town lots.
Instead of the little tavern below the hill, where the farmers
used to loiter on market days and indulge in cider and ginger
bread, an ambitious hotel, with cupola and verandas, now
crested the summit, among churches built in the Grecian and
Gothic styles, showing the great increase of piety and polite
taste in the neighborhood. As to Dutch d/esses and sun bon
nets, they were no longer tolerated, or even thought of ; not
a farmer's daughter but now went to town for the fashions ;
nay, a city milliner had recently set up in the village, who
threatened to reform the heads of the whole neighborhood.
I had heard enough ! I thanked my old playmate for bis in
telligence, and departed from the Sleepy Hollow church with
the sad conviction that I had beheld the last linge rings of the
good old Dutch times in this once favored region. If any
thing were wanting to confirm this impression, it would be the
intelligence which has just reached me, that a bank is about
to be established in the aspiring little port just mentioned.
The fate of the neighborhood is therefore sealed. I see no
hope of averting it. The golden mean is at an end. The coun
try is suddenly to be deluged with wealth. The late simple
farmers are to become bank directors and drink claret and
THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 35
champagne ; and their wives and daughters to figure in French
hats and feathers ; for French wines and French fashions com
monly keep pace with paper money. How can I hope that
even Sleepy Hollow can escape the general inundation? In a
little while, I fear the slumber of ages will be at end; the
strum of the piano will succeed to the hum of the spinning-
wheel; the trill of the Italian opera to the nasal quaver ot
Icliabod Crane ; and the antiquarian visitor to the Hollow, in
the petulance of his disappointment, may pronounce all that I
have recorded of that once favored region a fable.
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
THE BIEDS OF SPEING.
BY GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT
MY quiet residence in the country, aloof from fashion, poli
tics, and the money market, leaves me rather at a loss for im
portant occupation, and drives me to the study of nature, and
other low pursuits. Having few neighbors, also, on whom to
keep a watch, and exercise my habits of observation, I am fain
to amuse myself with prying into the domestic concerns and
peculiarities of the animals around me ; and, during the present
season, have derived considerable entertainment from certain
sociable little birds, almost the only visitors we have, during
this early part of the year.
Those who have passed the winter in the country, are sensi
ble of the delightful influences that accompany the earliest
indications of spring; and of these, none are more delightful
than the first notes of the birds. There is one modest little
sad-colored bird, much resembling a wren, which came aboiit
the house just on the skirts of winter, when not a blade of
grass was to be seen, and when a few prematurely warm days
had given a flattering foretaste of soft weather. He sang early
in the dawning, long before sun- rise, and late in the evening,
just before the closing in of night, his matin and his vesper
hymns. It is true, he sang occasionally throughout the day ;
but at these still hours, his song was more remarked. He sat
on a leafless tree, just before the window, and warbled forth
Ms notes, free and simple, but singularly sweet, with some
thing of a plaintive tone, that heightened their effect,
36 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
The first morning that he was heard, was a joyous one
among the young folks of my household. The long, death
like sleep of winter was at an end; nature was once more
awakening; they now promised themselves the immediate ap
pearance of buds and blossoms. I was reminded of the tem
pest-tossed crew of Columbus, when, after their long dubious
voyage, the field birds came singing round the ship, though
still far at sea, rejoicing them with the belief of the im
mediate proximity of land. A sharp return of winter almost
silenced my little songster, and dashed the hilarity of the
household; yet still he poured forth, now and then, a few
plaintive notes, between the frosty pipings of the breeze, like
gleams of sunshine between wintry clouds.
I have consulted my book of ornithology in vain, to find out
the name of this kindly little bird, who certainly deserves
honor and favor far beyond his modest pretensions. He comes
like the lowly violet, the most unpretending, but welcomest of
flowers, breathing the sweet promise of the early year.
Another of our feathered visitors, who follows close upon
the steps of winter, is the Pe-wit, or Pe-wee, or Phoebe-bird ;
for he is called by each of these names, from a fancied re
semblance to the sound of his monotonous note. He is a so
ciable little being, and seeks the habitation of man. A pair
of them have built beneath my porch, and have reared several
broods there for two years past, their nest being never dis
turbed. They arrive early in the spring, just when the crocus
and the snow-drop begin to peep forth. Their first chirp
spreads gladness through the nouse. " The Phcebe-birds have
come !" is heard on all sides ; they are welcomed back like mem
bers of the family, and speculations are made upon where they
have been, and what countries they have seen during their
long absence. Their arrival is the more cheering, as it is pro
nounced, by the old weather-wise people of the country, the
sure sign that the severe frosts are at an end, and that the
gardener may resume his labors with confidence.
About this time, too, arrives the blue-bird, so poetically yet
truly described by Wilson. His appearance gladdens the
whole landscape. You hear his soft warble in every field. He
sociably approaches your habitation, and takes up his resi
dence in > our vicinity. But why should I attempt to describe
him, when I have Wilson's own graphic verses to place him
before the reader?
THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 37
When winter's cold tempests and snows are no more,
Green meadows and brown furrowed fields re-appearing:
The fishermen hauling their shad to the shore,
And cloud-cleaving geese to the lakes are a-steering ;
When first the lone butterfly flits on the wing,
When red glow the maples, so fresh and so pleasing,
O then comes the blue-bird, the herald of spring,
And hails with his warbliugs the charms of the season.
The loud-piping frogs make the marshes to ring;
Then warm glows the sunshine, and warm glows the weather*
The blue woodland flowers just beginning to spring,
And spice-wood and sassafras budding together;
O then to your gardens, ye housewives, repair,
Your walks border up, sow and plant at your leisure;
The blue-bird will chant from his box such an air,
That all your hard toils will seem truly a pleasure 1
He flits through the orchard, he visits each tree,
The red flowering peach, and the apple's sweet blossoms;
He snaps up destroyers, wherever they be,
And seizes the caitiffs that lurk in their bosoms;
He drags the vile grub from the corn it devours,
The worms from the webs where they riot and welter;
His song and his services freely are ours,
And all that he asks is, in summer a shelter.
The ploughman is pleased when he gleams in his train,
Now searching the furrows, now mounting to cheer him;
The gard'ner delights in his sweet simple strain,
And leans on his spade to survey and to hear him.
The slow lingering school-boys forget they'll be chid,
While gazing intent, as he warbles before them,
In mantle of sky-blue, and bosom so red,
That each little loiterer seems to adore him.
The happiest bird of our spring, however, and one that rivals
the European lark, in my estimation, is the Boblincon, or
Boblink, as he is commonly called. He arrives at that choice
portion of our year, which, in this latitude, answers to the de
scription of the month of May, so often given by the poets.
With us, it begins about the middle of May, and lasts until
nearly the middle of June. Earlier than this, winter is apt to
return on its traces, and to blight the opening beauties of the
year ; an later than this, begin the parching, and panting, and
dissolving heats of summer. But in this genial interval, na
ture is in all her freshness and fragrance: " the rains are over
and gone, the flowers appear upon the earth, the time of the
singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in
the land." The trees are now in their fullest foliage and
brightest verdure; the woods are gay with the clustered
flowers of the laurel ; the air is perfumed by the sweet-briar
38 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
and the wild rose; the meadows are enamelled with clover-
blossoms ; while the young apple, the peach, and the plum, be
gin to swell, and the cherry to glow, among the green leaves.
This is the chosen season of revelry of the Boblink. He
comes amidst the pomp and fragrance of the season; his life
seems all sensibility and enjoyment, all song and sunshine.
He is to be found in the soft bosoms of the freshest and sweetest
meadows; and is most in song when the clover is in blossom.
He perches on the topmost twig of a tree, or on some long flaunt
ing weed, and as he rises and sinks with the breeze, pours forth
a succession of rich tinlding notes ; crowding one upon another,
like the outpouring melody of the skylark, and possessing the
same rapturous character. Sometimes he pitches from the
summit of a tree, begins his song as soon as he gets upon the
wing, and flutters tremulously down to the earth, as if over
come with ecstasy at his own music. Sometimes he is in
pursuit of his paramour; always in full song, as if he would
win her by his melody ; and always with the same appearance
of intoxication and delight.
Of all the birds of our groves and meadows, the Boblink was
the envy of my boyhood. He crossed my path in the sweetest
weather, and the sweetest season of the year, when all nature
called to the fields, and the rural feeling throbbed in every
bosom ; but when I, luckless urchin 1 was doomed to be mewed
up, during the livelong day, in that purgatory of boyhood, a
school-room. It seemed as if the little varlet mocked at me,
as he flew by in full song, and sought to taunt me with his
happier lot. Oh, how I envied him ! No lessons, no tasks, no
hateful school; nothing but holiday, frolic, green fields, and
fine weather. Had I been then more versed in poetry, I might
have addressed him in the words of Logan to the cuckoo :
Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green.
Thy sky is ever clear;
Thou hast no sorrow in thy note,
No winter in thy year.
Oh! could I fly, I'd fly with thee;
We'd make, on joyful wing,
Our annual visit round the globe,
Companions of the spring!
Farther observation and experience have given me a different
idea of this little feathered voluptuary, which I will venture to
impart, for the benefit of my school-boy readers, who may
regard him with the same unqualified envy and admiration
which I once indulged. I have shown him only as I saw
THE BIRDS OF SPRING. 39
at first, in what I may call the poetical part of his career, when
he in a manner devoted himself to elegant pursuits and enjoy
ments, and was a bird of music, and song, and taste, and
sensibility, and refinement. While this lasted, he was sacred
from injury; the very school-boy would not fling a stone at
him, and the merest rustic would pause to listen to his strain.
But mark the difference. As the year advances, as the clover-
blossoms disappear, and the spring fades into summer, his notes
cease to vibrate on the ear. He gradually gives up his elegant
tastes and habits, doffs his poetical and professional suit of
black, assumes a russet or rather dusty garb, and enters into
the gross enjoyments of common, vulgar birds. He becomes a
oon-vivant, a mere gourmand; thinking of nothing but good
cheer, and gormandizing on the seeds of the long grasses on
which he lately swung, and chaunted so musically. He begins
to think there is nothing like "the joys of the table," if I may
be allowed to apply that convivial phrase to his indulgences.
He now grows discontented with plain, every-day fare, and sets
out on a gastronomical tour, in search of foreign luxuries. He
is to be found in myriads among the reeds of the Delaware,
banqueting on their seeds ; grows corpulent with good feeding,
and soon acquires the unlucky renown of the ortolan. Where-
ever he goes, pop ! pop ! pop ! the rusty firelocks of the country
are cracking on every side ; he sees his companions falling by
thousands around him; he is the reed-bird, the much-sought-
for tit-bit of the Pennsylvanian epicure.
Does he take warning and reform? Not he! He wings his
flight still farther south, in search of other luxuries. We hear
of him gorging himself in the rice swamps ; filling himself with
rice almost to bursting; he can hardly fly for corpulency.
Last stage of his career, we hear of him spitted by dozens, and
served up on the table of the gourmand, the most vaunted of
southern dainties, the rice-bird of the Carolinas.
Such is the story of the once musical and admired, but finally
sensual and persecuted Boblink. It contains a moral, worthy
the attention of all little birds and little boys ; warning them to
keep to those refined and intellectual pursuits, which raised
him to so high a pitch of popularity, during the early part of
his career ; but to eschew all tendency to that gross and dissi
pated indulgence, which brought this mistaken little bird to an
untimely end.
Which is all at present, from the well-wisher of little boys
cl little birds, GEOFFREY CRAYON.
40 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
KECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH-BOOK.
DURING a summer's residence in the old Moorish palace of the
Alhainbra, of which I have already given numerous anecdotes
to the public, I used to pass much of my time in the beautiful
hall of the Abencerrages, beside the fountain celebrated in the
tragic story of that devoted race. Here it was, that thirty-six
cavaliers of that heroic line were treacherously sacrificed, to
appease the jealousy or allay the fears of a tyrant. The foun
tain which now throws up its sparkling jet, and sheds a dewy
freshness around, ran red with the noblest blood of Granada,
and a deep stain on the marble pavement is still pointed out,
by the cicerones of the pile, as a sanguinary record of the
massacre. I have regarded it with the same determined faith
with which I have regarded the traditional stains of Rizzio's
blood on the floor of the chamber of the unfortunate Mary, at
Holyrood. I thank no one for endeavoring to enlighten my
credulity, on such points of popular belief. It is like breaking
up the shrine of the pilgrim ; it is robbing a poor traveller of
half the reward of his toils ; for, strip travelling of its historical
illusions, and what a mere fag you make of it I
For my part, I gave myself up, during my sojourn in the
Alhainbra, to all the romantic and fabulous traditions connected
with the pile. I lived in the midst of an Arabian tale, and shut
my eyes, as much as possible, to every thing that called me back
to every-day life ; and if there is any country in Europe where
one can do so, it is in poor, wild, legendary, proud-spirited,
romantic Spain ; where the old magnificent barbaric spirit still
contends against the utilitarianism of modern civilization.
In the silent and deserted halls of the Alhambra ; surrounded
with the insignia of regal sway, and the still vivid, though
dilapidated traces of oriental voluptuousness, I was in the
strong-hold of Moorish story, and every thing spoke and
breathed of the glorious days of Granada, when under the
dominion of the crescent. When I sat in the hall of the Aben
cerrages, I suffered my mind to conjure up all that I had read
of that illustrious line. In the proudest days of Moslem domi
nation, the Abencerrages were the soul of every thing- noble
and chivalrous. The veterans of the family, who sat in the
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE ALHAMBRA. 41
royal council, were the foremost to devise those heroic enter
prises, which carried dismay into the territories of the Chris-
tians ; and what the sages of the family devised, the young
men of the name were the foremost to execute. In ah" services
of hazard ; in all adventurous forays, and hair-breadth hazards ;
the Abencerrages were sure to win the brightest laurels. In
those noble recreations, too, which bear so close an affinity to
war ; in the tilt and tourney, the riding at the ring, and the
daring bull-fight ; still the Abencerrages carried off the palm.
None could equal them for the splendor of their array, the
gallantry of their devices; for their noble bearing, and .glorious
horsemanship. Their open-handed munificence made them
the idols of the populace, while their k>fty magnanimity, and
perfect faith, gamed them golden opinions from the generous
and high-minded. Never were they known to decry the merits
of a rival, or to betray the confidings of a friend; and the
" word of an Abencerrage" was a guarantee that never admitted
of a doubt.
And then their devotion to the fair! Never did Moorish
beauty consider the fame of her charms established, until she
had an Abencerrage for a lover; and never did an Abencerrage
prove recreant to his vows. Lovely Granada ! City of delights 1
Who ever bore the favors of thy dames more proudly on their
casques, or championed them more gallantly in the chivalrous
tilts of the Vivarambla? Or who ever made thy moon-lit
balconies, thy gardens of myrtles and roses, of oranges, citrons,
and pomegranates, respond to more tender serenades?
I speak with enthusiasm on this theme ; for it is connected
with the recollection of one of the sweetest evenings and
sweetest scenes that ever I enjoyed in Spain. One of the
greatest pleasures of the Spaniards is, to sit in the beautiful
summer evenings, and listen to traditional ballads, and tales
about the wars of the Moors and Christians, and the " buenas
andanzas" and "grandes hechos," the "good fortunes" and
" great exploits" of the hardy warriors of yore. It is worthy
of remark, also, that many of these songs, or romances, as they
are called, celebrate the prowess and magnanimity in war, and
the tenderness and fidelity in love, of the Moorish cavaliers,
once their most formidable and hated foes. But centuries have
elapsed, to extinguish the bigotry of the zealot ; and the once
detested warriors of Granada are now held up by Spanish
poets, as the mirrors of chivalric virtue.
Such was the amusement of the evening in question. A
42 WOLFERTS ROOST JLND MISCELLANIES.
number of us were seated in the Hall of the Abcncerrages,
listening to one of the most gifted and fascinating beings that I
had ever met with in my wanderings. She was young and
beautiful ; and light and ethereal ; full of fire, and spirit, and
pure enthusiasm. She wore the fanciful Andalusian dress;
touched the guitar with speaking eloquence ; improvised with
wonderful f acility ; and, as she became excited by her theme,
or by the rapt attention of her auditors, would pour forth, in
the richest and most melodious strains, a succession of couplets,
full of striking description, or stirring narration, and composed,
as I was assured, at the moment. Most of these were suggested
by the place, and related to the ancient glories of Granada,
and the prowess of her chivalry. The Abencerrages were her
favorite heroes ; she felt a woman's admiration of their gallant
courtesy, and high-souled honor ; and it was touching and in
spiring to hear the praises of that generous but devoted race,
chanted hi this fated hall of their calamity, by the lips of
Spanish beauty.
Among the subjects of which she treated, was a tale of Mos
lem honor, and old-fashioned Spanish courtesy, which made a
strong impression on me. She disclaimed all merit of inven
tion, however, and said she had merely dilated into verse a
popular tradition; and, indeed, I have since found the main
facts inserted at the end of Conde's History of the Domination
of the Arabs, and the story itself embodied in the form of an
episode in the Diana of Montemayor. From these sources I
have drawn it forth, and endeavored to shape it according to
my recollection of the version of the beautiful minstrel ; but,
alas ! what can supply the want of that voice, that look, that
form, that action, which gave magical effect to her chant, and
held every one rapt in breathless admiration! Should this
mere travestie of her inspired numbers ever meet her eye, in
her stately abode at Granada, may it meet with that indul
gence which belongs to her benignant nature. Happy should
I be, if it could awaken in her bosom one kind recollection of
the lonely stranger and sojourner, for whose gratification she
did not think it beneath her to exert those fascinating powers
which were the delight of brilliant circles ; and who will ever
recall with enthusiasm the happy evening passed in listening
to her strains, in the moon-lit halls of the Alhambra.
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
THE ABENCERRAGB. 43
THE ABENCERRAGE.
A SPANISH TALE.
ON the summit of a craggy hill, a spur of the mountains of
Ronda, stands the castle of Allora, now a mere ruin, infested
by bats and owlets, but in old times one of the strong border
holds of the Christians, to keep watch upon the frontiers of the
warlike kingdom of Granada, and to hold the Moors in check.
It was a post always confided to some well-tried commander ;
and, at the time of which we treat, was held by Rodrigo de
Narvaez, a veteran, famed, both among Moors and Christians,
not only for his hardy feats of arms, but also for that magnani
mous courtesy which should ever be entwined with the sterner
virtues of the soldier.
The castle of Allora was a mere part of his command ; he was
Alcayde, or military governor of Antiquera, but he passed most
of his time at this frontier post, because its situation on the
borders gave more frequent opportunity for those adventurous
exploits which were the delight of the Spanish chivalry. His
garrison consisted of fifty chosen cavaliers, all well mounted
and well appointed : with these he kept vigilant watch upon
the Moslems; patrolling the roads, and paths, and defiles of
the mountains, so that nothing could escape his eye ; and now
and then signalizing himself by some dashing foray into the
very Vega of Granada.
On a fair and beautiful night in summer, when the freshness
of the evening breeze had tempered the heat of day, the
worthy Alcayde sallied forth, with nine of his cavaliers, to
patrol the neighborhood, and seek adventures. They rode
quietly and cautiously, lest they should be overheard by Moor
ish scout or traveller ; and kept along ravines and hollow ways,
lest they should be betrayed by the glittering of the full moon
upon their armor. Coming to where the road divided, the
Alcayde directed five of his cavaliers to take one of the
branches, while he, with the remaining four, would take the
other. Should either party be in danger, the blast of a horn
was to be the signal to bring their comrades to their aid.
The party of five had not proceeded far, when, in passing
through a defile, overhung with trees, they heard the voice of
a man, singing. They immediately concealed themselves in
a grove, on the brow of a declivity, up which the stranger
44 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
would have to ascend. The moonlight, which left the grove in
deep shadow, lit up the whole person of the wayfarer, as he
advanced, and enabled them to distinguish his dress and appear
ance with perfect accuracy. He was a Moorish cavalier, and
his noble demeanor, graceful carriage, and splendid attire
showed him to be of lofty rank. He was superbly mounted, on
a dapple-gray steed, of powerful frame, and generous spirit,
and magnificently caparisoned. His dress was a marlota, or
tunic, and an Albernoz of crimson damask, fringed with gold.
His Tunisian turban, of many folds, was of silk and cotton,
striped, and bordered with golden fringe. At his girdle hung
a scimetar of Damascus steel, with loops and tassels of silk and
gold. On his left arm he bore an ample target, and his right
hand grasped a long double-pointed lance. Thus equipped, he
sat negligently on his steed, as one who dreamed of no danger,
gazing on the moon, and singing, with a sweet and manly
voice, a Moorish love ditty.
Just opposite the place where the Spanish cavaliers were
concealed, was a small fountain in the rock, beside the road,
to which the horse turned to drink ; the rider threw the reins
on his neck, and continued his song.
The Spanish cavaliers conferred together; they were all so
pleased with the gallant and gentle appearance of the Moor,
that they resolved not*to harm, but to capture him, which, in
his negligent mood, promised to be an easy task; rushing,
therefore, from their concealment, they thought to surround
and seize him. Never were men more mistaken. To gather
up his reins, wheel round his steed, brace his buckler, and
couch his lance, was the work of an instant; and there he sat,
fixed like a castle in his saddle, beside the fountain.
The Christian cavaliers checked their steeds and recon
noitred him warily, loth to come to an encounter, which must
end in his destruction.
The Moor now held a parley: "If you be true knights, " said
he, 'and seek for honorable fame, come on, singly, and I am
ready to meet each in succession ; but if you be mere lurkers
of the road, intent on spoil, come all at once, and do your
worst !"
The cavaliers communed for a moment apart, when one, ad
vancing singly, exclaimed: "Although no law of chivalry
obliges us to risk the loss of a prize, when clearly in our power,
yet we willingly grant, as a courtesy, what we might, refuse as
aright. Valiant Moor! defend thyself!"
THE ABENCERRAOE. 45
So saying, he wheeled, took proper distance, couched his
lance, and putting spurs to his horse, made at the stranger.
The latter met him in mid career, transpierced him with his
iance, and threw him headlong from his saddle. A second and
a third succeeded, but were unhorsed with equal facility, and
thrown to the earth, severely wounded. The remaining two,
seeing their comrades thus roughly treated, forgot all compact
of courtesy, and charged both at once upon the Moor. He
parried the thrust of one, but was wounded by the other in the
thigh, and, in the shock and confusion, dropped his lance.
Thus disarmed, and closely pressed, he pretended to fly, and
was hotly pursued. Having drawn the two cavaliers some dis
tance from the spot, he suddenly wheeled short about, with one
of those dexterous movements for which the Moorish horse
men are renowned ; passed swiftly between them, swung him
self down from his saddle, so as to catch up his lance, then,
lightly replacing himself, turned to renew the combat.
Seeing him thus fresh for the encounter, as if just issued
from his tent, one of the cavaliers put his lips to his horn, and
blew a blast, that soon brought the Alcayde and his four com
panions to the spot.
The valiant Narvaez, seeing three of his cavaliers extended
on the earth, and two others hotly engaged with the Moor,
was struck with admiration, and coveted a contest with so ac
complished a warrior. Interfering in the fight, he called upon
his followers to desist, and addressing the Moor, with courteous
words, invited him to a more equal combat. The latter readily
accepted the challenge. For some time, their contest was
fierce and doubtful, and the Alcayde had need of all his
skill and strength to ward off the blows of his antagonist.
The Moor, however, was exhausted by previous fighting, and
by loss of blood. He no longer sat his horse firmly, nor man
aged him with his wonted skill. Collecting all his strength for
a last assault, he rose in his stirrups, and made a violent thrust
with his lance ; the Alcayde received it upon his shield, and at
the same time wounded the Moor in the right arm ; then clos
ing, in the shock, he grasped him in his arms, dragged him
from his saddle, and fell with him to the earth : when putting
his knee upon his breast, and his dagger to his throat, " Cava
lier," exclaimed he, "render thyself my prisoner, for thy life is
in my hands !"
' ' Kill me, rather, " replied the Moor, ' ' for death would be less
grievous than loss of liberty."
46 WOLFEttl n S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
The Alcayde, however, with the clemency of the truly brave,
assisted the Moor to rise, ministered to his wounds with his
own hands, and had him conveyed with great care to the cas
tle of Allora. His wounds were slight, and in a few days were
nearly cured ; but the deepest wound had been inflicted on his
spirit. He was constantly buried in a profound melancholy.
The Alcayde, who had conceived a great regard for him,
treated him more as a friend than a captive, and tried in every
way to cheer him, but in vain ; he was always sad and moody,
and, when on the battlements of the castle, would keep his eyes
turned to the south, with a fixed and wistful gaze.
"How is this?" exclaimed the Alcayde, reproachfully, "that
you, who were so hardy and fearless in the field, should lose all
spirit in prison? If any secret grief preys on your heart, con
fide it to me, as to a friend, and 1 promise you, on the faith of
a cavalier, that you shall have no cause to repent the dis
closure."
The Moorish knight kissed the hand of the Alcayde. " Noble
cavalier," said he, " that I am cast down in spirit, is not from
my wounds, which are slight, nor from my captivity, for your
kindness has robbed it of all gloom ; nor from my defeat, for to
be conquered by so accomplished and renowned a cavalier, is
no disgrace. But to explain to you the cause of my grief, it is
necessary to give you some particulars of my story ; and this I
im moved to do, by the great sympathy you have manifested
toward me, and the magnanimity that shines through all your
actions."
" Know, then, that my name is Abeudaraez, and that I am of
the noble but unfortunate line of the Abencerrages of Granada.
You have doubtless heard of the destruction that fell upon our
race. Charged with treasonable designs, of which they were
entirely innocent, many of them were beheaded, the rest ban
ished ; so that not an Abencerrage was permitted to remain in
Granada, excepting my father and my uncle, whose innocence
was proved, even to the satisfaction of their persecutors. It
was decreed, however, that, should they have children, the
sons should be educated at a distance from Granada, and the
daughters should be married out of the kingdom.
" Conformably to this decree, I was sent, while yet an infant,
to be reared in the fortress of Cartama, the worthy Alcayde of
which was an ancient friend of my father. He had no chil
dren, and received me into his family as his own child, treating
me with the kindness and affection of a father ; and I grew up in
THE ABBNCERRAGE. 47
the belief that he really was such. A few years afterward, his
wife gave birth to a daughter, but his tenderness toward me con
tinued undiminished. I thus grew up with Xarisa, for so the
infant daughter of the Alcayde was called, as her own brother,
and thought the growing passion which I felt for her, was mere
fraternal affection. I beheld her charms unfolding, as it were,
leaf by leaf, like the morning rose, each moment disclosing
fresh beauty and sweetness.
"At this period, I overheard a conversation between the
Alcayde and his confidential domestic, and found myself to be
the subject. ' It is time,' said he, ' to apprise him of his parent
age, that he may adopt a career in life. I have deferred the
communication as long as possible, through reluctance to inform
him that he is of a proscribed and an unlucky race.'
" This intelligence would have overwhelmed me at an earlier
period, but the intimation that Xarisa was not my sister, oper
ated like magic, and in an instant transformed my brotherly
affection into ardent love.
" I sought Xarisa, to impart to her the secret I had learned.
I found her in the garden, in a bower of jessamines, arranging
her beautiful hair by the mirror of a crystal fountain. The
radiance of her beauty dazzled me. I ran to her with open
arms, and she received me with a sister's embraces. When we
had seated ourselves beside the fountain, she began to upbraid
me for leaving her so long alone.
"In reply, I informed her of the conversation I had over
heard. The recital shocked and distressed her. ' Alas ! ' cried
she, ' then is our happiness at an end ! '
" ' How ! ' exclaimed I ; ' wilt thou cease to love me, because I
am not thy brother? '
" ' Not so,' replied she ; ' but do you not know that when it is
once known we are not brother and sister, we can no longer be
permitted to be thus always together? '
" In fact, from that moment our intercourse took a new char
acter. We met often at the fountain among the jessamines,
but Xarisa no longer advanced with open arms to meet me.
She. became reserved and silent, and would blush, and cast
down her eyes, when I seated myself beside her. My heart
became a prey to the thousand doubts and fears that ever
attend upon true love. I was restless and uneasy, and looked
back with regret to the unreserved intercourse that had existed
between us, when we supposed ourselves brother and sister;
yet I would not have had the relationship true, for the world.
48 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
" While matters were in this state between us, an order came
from the King of Granada for the Alcayde to take command of
the fortress of Coyn, which lies directly on the Christian fron
tier. He prepared to remove, with all his family, but signified
that I should remain at Cartama. I exclaimed against the
separation, and declared that I could not be parted from
Xarisa. ' That is the very cause, ' said he, ' why I leave thee
behind. It is time, Abendaraez, that thou shouldst know the
secret of thy birth ; that thou art no son of mine, neither is
Xarisa thy sister.' ' I know it all,' exclaimed I, ' and I love her
with tenfold the affection of a brother. You have brought us
up together; you have made us necessary to each other's hap
piness ; our hearts have entwined themselves with our growth ;
do not now tear them asunder. Fill up the measure of your
kindness ; be indeed a father to me, by giving me Xarisa for
my wife.'
"The brow of the Alcayde darkened as I spoke. 'Have I
then been deceived?' said he. 'Have those nurtured in my
very bosom been conspiring against me? Is this your return
for my paternal tenderness? to beguile the affections of my
child, and teach her to deceive her father? It was cause enough
to refuse thee the hand of my daughter, that thou wert of a
proscribed race, who can never approach the walls of Granada ;
this, however, I might have passed over ; but never will I give
my daughter to a man who has endeavored to win her from me
by deception.'
' ' All my attempts to vidicate myself and Xarisa were unavail
ing. I retired in anguish from his presence, and seeking
Xarisa, told her of this blow, which was worse than death to
me. ' Xarisa, ' said I, ' we part for ever ! I shall never see thee
more ! Thy father will guard thee rigidly. Thy beauty and his
wealth will soon attract some happier rival, and I shall be for
gotten ! '
" Xarisa reproached me with my want of faith, and promised
me eternal constancy. I still doubted and desponded, until,
moved by my anguish and despair, she agreed to a secret
union. Our espousals made, we parted, with a promise on her
part to send me word from Coyn, should her father absent him
self from the fortress. The very day after our secret nuptials,
I beheld the whole train of the Alcayde depart from Cartama,
nor would he admit me to his presence, or permit me to bid
farewell to Xarisa. I remained at Cartama, somewhat pacified
in spirit by this secret bond of union ; but every thing around
THE ABENCKREAOE. 49
me fed my passion, and reminded me of Xarisa. I saw the
windows at which I had so often beheld her. I wandered
*V 1- ough the apartment she had inhabited; the chamber in
whl; h she bad slept. I visited the bower of jessamines, and
lingered beside the fountain in which she had delighted. Every
thing recalled her to my imagination, and filled my heart with
tender melancholy.
"At length, a confidential servant brought me word, that her
father was to depart that day for Granada, on a short absence,
inviting me to hasten to Coyn, describing a secret portal at
which I should apply, and the signal by which I would obtain
admittance.
'If ever you have loved, most valiant Alcayde, you may
judge of the transport of my bosom. That very night I arrayed
myself in my most gallant attire, to pay due honor to my bride ;
and arming myself against any casual attack, issued forth pri
vately from Cartama. You know the rest, and by what sad
fortune of war I found myself, instead of a happy bridegroom,
in the nuptial bower of Coyn, vanquished, wounded, and a
prisoner, withing the walls of Allora. The term of absence of
the father of Xarisa is nearly expired. Within three days he
will return to Coyn, and our meeting will no longer be possible.
Judge, then, whether I grieve without cause, and whether I
may not well be excused for showing impatience under confine
ment."
Don Rodrigo de Narvaez was greatly moved by this recital ;
for, though more used to rugged war, than scenes of amorous
softness, he was of a kind and generous nature.
" Abenderaez," said he, "I did not seek thy confidence to
gratify an idle curiosity. It grieves me much that the good
fortune which delivered thee into my hands, should have marred
so fair an enterprise. Give me thy faith, as a true knight, to
, return prisoner to my castle, within three days, and I will
'grant thee permission to accomplish thy nuptials."
The Abencerrage would have thrown himself at his feet, to
pour out protestations of eternal gratitude, but the Alcayde
prevented him. Calling in his cavaliers, he took the Abencer
rage by the right hand, in their presence, exclaiming solemnly,
" You promise, on the faith of a cavalier, to return to my castle
of Allora within three days, and render yourself my prisoner?"
And the Abencerrage said, "I promise."
Then said the Alcayde, "Go! and may good fortune attend
50 WOLFERTS ROOST AXD MISCELLANIES.
you. If you require any safeguard, I and my cavaliers are
ready to be your companions."
The Abencerrage kissed the hand of the Alcayde, in grateful
acknowledgment. "Give me," said he, "my own armor,
and my steed, and I require no guard. It is not likely that I
shall again meet with so valorous a foe. "
The shades of night had fallen, when the tramp of the dapple-
gray steed sounded over the drawbridge, and immediately
afterward the light clatter of hoofs along the road, bespoke the
fleetness with which the youthful lover hastened to his bride.
It was deep night when the Moor arrived at the castle of Coyn.
He silently and cautiously walked his panting steed under its
dark walls, and having nearly passed round them, came to the
portal denoted by Xarisa. He paused and looked around to
see that he was not observed, and then knocked three times
with the butt of his lance. In a little while the portal was
timidly unclosed by the duenna of Xarisa. "Alas! senor,"
said she, "what has detained you thus long? Every night have
I watched for you ; and my lady is sick at heart with doubt
and anxiety."
The Abencerrage hung his lance, and shield, and scimitar
against the wall, and then followed the duenna, with silent
steps, up a winding stair-case, to the apartment of Xarisa.
Vain would be the attempt to describe the raptures of that
meeting. Time flew too swiftly, and the Abencerrage had
nearly forgotten, until too late, his promise to return a prisoner
to the Alcayde of Allora. The recollection of it came to him
with a pang, and suddenly awoke him from his dream of bliss.
Xarisa saw his altered looks, and heard with alarm his stifled
sighs; but her countenance brightened, when she heard the
cause. " Let not thy spirit be cast down," said she, throwing
her white arms around him. " I have the keys of my father's
joi'easures; send ransom more than enough to satisfy the Chris
tian, and remain with me."
"No," said Abendaraez, "I have given my word to return in
person, and like a true knight, must fulfil my promise. After
that, fortune must do with me as it pleases."
"Then," said Xarisa, "I will accompany thee. Never shall
you return a prisoner, and I remain at liberty."
The Abencerrage was transported with joy at this new proof
of devotion in his beautiful bride. All preparations were
speedily made for their departure. Xarisa mounted behind the
Moor, on his powerful steed ; they left the castle walls bef oro
THE ABENCERRAGE. 51
daybreak, nor did they pause, until they arrived at the gate of
the castle of AUora, which was flung wide to receive them.
Alighting in the court, the Abencerrage supported the steps of
his trembling bride, who remained closely veiled, into the pres
ence of Rodrigo de Narvaez. ' ' Behold, valiant Alcayde 1" said
he, " the way in which an Abencerrage keeps his word. I pro
mised to return to thee a prisoner, but I deliver two captivea
into your power. Behold Xarisa, and judge whether I grieved
without reason, over the loss of such a treasure. Receive ua
as your own, for I confide my Me and her honor to youi
hands."
The Alcayde was lost in admiration of the beauty of the lady,
and the noble spirit of the Moor. "I know not," said he,
"which of you surpasses the other; but I know that my castle
is graced and honored by your presence. Enter into it, and
consider it your own, while you deign to reside with me."
For several days the lovers remained at Allora, happy in
each other's love, and in the friendship of the brave Alcayde.
The latter wrote a letter, full of courtesy, to the Moorish king
of Granada, relating the whole event, extolling the valor and
good faith of the Abencerrage, and craving for him the royal
countenance.
The king was moved by the story, and was pleased with an
opportunity of showing attention to the wishes of a gallant and
chivalrous enemy; for though he had often suffered from the
prowess of Don Rodigro de Narvaez, he admired the heroic
character he had gained throughout the land. Calling the Al
cayde of Coyn into his presence, he gave him the letter to read.
The Alcayde turned pale, and trembled with rage, on the perusal.
"Restrain thine anger," said the king; "there is nothing thai
the Alcayde of Allora could ask, that I would not grant, if in
my power. Go thou to Allora ; pardon thy children ; take them
to thy home. I receive this Abencerrage into my favor, and it
will be my delight to heap benefits upon you all."
The kindling ire of the Alcayde was suddenly appeased. He
hastened to Allora ; and folded his children to his bosom, who
would have fallen at his feet. The gallant Rodrigo de Nar
vaez gave liberty to his prisoner without ransom, demanding
merely a promise of his friendship. He accompanied the youth
ful couple and their father to Coyn, where their nuptials were
celebrated with great rejoicings. When the festivities were
over, Don Rodrigo de Narvaez returned to his fortress of Allora.
After his departure, the Alcayde of Coyn addressed hie
52 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
children: "To your hands," said he, "I confide the disposi
tion of my wealth. One of the first things I charge you, is not
to forget the ransom you owe to the Alcayde of Allora. His
magnanimity you can never repay, but you can prevent it from
wronging him of his just dues. Give him, moreover, your
entire friendship, for he merits it fully, though of a different
faith."
The Abencerrage thanked him for his generous proposition,
which so truly accorded with his own wishes. He took a largo
sum of gold, and enclosed it in a rich coffer ; and, on his own
part, sent six beautiful horses, superbly caparisoned ; with six
shields and lances, mounted and embossed with gold. The
beautiful Xarisa, at the same time, wrote a letter to the
Alcayde, filled with expressions of gratitude and friendship, and
sent him a box of fragrant cypress-wood, containing linen, of
the finest quality, for his person. The valiant Alcayde dis
posed of the present in a characteristic manner. The horses
and armor he shared among the cavaliers who had accompanied
him on the night of the skirmish. The box of cypress-wood
and its contents he retained, for the sake of the beautiful
Xarisa; and sent her, by the hands of a messenger, the sum of
gold paid as a ransom, entreating her to receive it as a .wedding
present. This courtesy and magnanimity raised the character
of the Alcayde Rodrigo de Narvacz still higher in the estima
tion of the Moors, who extolled him as a perfect mirror of clii-
valric virtue; and from that time forward, there ^ a con-
* ; nual exchange of gxod offices between them.
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 53
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH-BOOK.
Break, Phantsie, from thy cave of cloud,
And wave thy purple wings,
Now all thy figures are allowed,
And various shapes of things.
Create of airy forms a stream ;
It must have blood and nought of phlegm;
And though it be a walking dream,
, Yet let it like an odor rise
To all the senses here,
And fall like sleep upon their eyes,
Or music on their ear. BEN JONSON.
"THERE are more things in heaven and earth than are
dreamed of in our philosophy," and among these may be
placed that marvel and mystery of the seas, the island of St.
Brandan. Every school-boy can enumerate and call by name
the Canaries, tne Fortunate Islands of the ancients; which,
according to some ingenious speculative minds, are mere
wrecks and remnants of the vast island of Atalantis, men
tioned by Plato, as having been swallowed up by the ocean.
Whoever has read the history of those isles, will remember
the wonders told of another island, still more beautiful, seen
occasionally from their shores, stretching away in the clear
bright west, with long shadowy promontories, and high, sun-
gilt peaks. Numerous expeditions, both in ancient and modern
days, have launched forth from the Canaries in quest of that
island ; but, on their approach, mountain and promontory have
gradually faded away, until nothing has remained but the blue
sky above, and the deep blue water below. Hence it was
termed by the geographers of old, Aprositus, or the Inaccessi
ble ; while modern navigators have called its very existence in
question, pronouncing it a mere optical illusion, like the Fata
Morgana of the Straits of Messina; or classing it with those
unsubstantial regions known to mariners as Cape Flyaway,
and the Coast of Cloud Land.
Let not, however, the doubts of the worldly-wise sceptics of
modern days rob us of all the glorious realms owned by happy
credulity in days of yore. Be assured, O reader of easy faith !
thou for whom I delight to labor be assured, that such =ra
island does actually exist, and has, from time to time, been
64 WOLFERT '8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
revealed to the gaze, and trodden by the feet, of favored
mortals. Nay, though doubted by historians and philosophers,
its existence is fully attested by the poets, who, being an in
spired race, and gifted with a kind of second sight, can see
into the mysteries of nature, hidden from the eyes of ordinary
mortals. To this gifted race it has ever been a region of fancy
and romance, teeming with all kinds of wonders. Here once
bloomed, and perhaps still blooms, the famous garden of the
Hesperides, with its golden fruit. Here, too, was the enchanted
garden of Armida, in which that sorceress held the Christian
paladin, Rinaldo, in delicious but inglorious thraldom ; as is
set forth in the immortal lay of Tasso. It was on this island,
also, that Sycorax, the witch, held sway, when the good Pros-
pero, and his infant daughter Miranda, were wafted to its
shores. The isle was then
" full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight, and hurt not."
Who does not know the tale, as told in the magic page of
Shakspeare?
In fact, the island appears to have been, at different times,
under the sway of different powers, genii of earth, and air,
and ocean ; who made it their shadowy abode ; or rather, it is
the retiring place of old worn-out deities and dynasties, that
once ruled the poetic world, but are now nearly shorn of all
their attributes. Here Neptune and Amphitrite hold a dimi
nished court, like sovereigns in exile. Their ocean-chariot
lies bottom upward, in a cave of the island, almost a perfect
wreck, while their pursy Tritons and haggard Nereids bask
listlessly, like seals about the rocks. Sometimes they assume
a shadow of their ancient pomp, and glide in state about the
glassy sea; while the crew of some tall Indiaman, that lies
becalmed with flapping sails, hear with astonishment the
mellow note of the Triton's shell swelling upon the ear, as the
invisible pageant sweeps by. Sometimes the quondam mon
arch of the ocean is permitted to raake himself visible to
mortal eyes, visiting the ships that cross the line, to exact a
tribute from new-comers ; the only remnant of his ancient rule,
and that, alas! performed with tattered state, and tarnished
splendor.
On the shores of this wondrous island, the mighty kraken
heaves his bulk, and wallows many a rood ; here, too, the sea-
serpent lies coiled up, during the intervals of bis much-con-
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 55
tested revelations to the eyes of true believers ; and here, it is
said, even the Flying Dutchman finds a port, and casts his
anchor, and furls his shadowy sail, and takes a short repose
from his eternal wanderings.
Here all the treasures lost in the deep are safely garnered.
The caverns of the shores are piled with golden ingots, boxes
of pearls, rich bales of oriental silks ; and their deep recesses
sparkle with diamonds, or flame with carbuncles. Here, in
deep bays and harbors, lies many a spell-bound ship, long
given up as lost by the ruined merchant. Here, too, its crew,
long bewailed as swallowed up in ocean, He sleeping in mossy
grottoes, from age to age, or wander about enchanted shores
and groves, in pleasing oblivion of all things.
Such are some of the marvels related of this island, and
which may serve to throw some light on the following legend,
of unquestionable truth, which I recommend to the entire
belief of the reader.
THE ADELANTADO OF THE SEVEN CITIES.
A LEGEND OF ST. BRANDAN.
In the early part of the fifteenth century, when Prince
Henry of Portugal, of worthy memory, was pushing the career
of discovery along the western coast of Africa, and the world
was resounding with reports of golden regions on the main
land, and new-found islands in the ocean, there arrived at
Lisbon an old bewildered pilot of the seas, who had been
driven by tempests, he knew not whither, and who raved
about an island far in the deep, on which he had landed, and
which he had found peopled with Christians, and adorned with
noble cities.
The inhabitants, he said, gathered round, and regarded him
with surprise, having never before been visited by a ship.
They told him they were descendants of a band of Christians,
who fled from Spain when that country was conquered by the
Moslems. They were curious about the state of their father
land, and grieved to hear that the Moslems still held possession
of the kingdom of Granada. They would have taken the old
navigator to church, to convince him of their orthodoxy; but,
either through lack of devotion, or lack of faith in their words,
he declined their invitation, and preferred to return on board
of his ship. He was properiv punished. A furious storm
56 WOLFERTS ROOST A3D MISCELLANIES.
arose, drove him from his anchorage, hurried him out to sea,
and he saw no more of the unknown island.
This strange story caused great marvel in Lisbon and else
where. Those versed in history, remembered to have read, in
an ancient chronicle, that, at the time of the conquest of Spain,
in the eighth century, when the blessed cross was cast down,
and the crescent erected in its place, and when Christian
churches were turned into Moslem mosques, seven bishops, at
the head of seven bands of pious exiles, had fled from the
peninsula, and embarked in quest of some ocean island, or dis
tant land, where they might found seven Christian cities, and
enjoy their faith unmolested.
The fate of these pious saints errant had hitherto remained a
mystery, and their story had faded from memory ; the report
of the old tempest-tossed pilot, however, revived this long-for
gotten theme ; and it was determined by the pious and enthusi
astic, that the island thus accidentally discovered, was the
identical place of refuge, whither the wandering bishops had
been guided by a protecting Providence, and where they had
folded their flocks.
This most excitable of worlds has always some darling object
of chimerical enterprise: the "Island of the Seven Cities" now
awakened as much interest and longing among zealous Chris
tians, as has the renowned city of Timbuctoo among adven
turous travellers, or the North-east Passage among hardy
navigators ; and it was a frequent prayer of the devout, that
these scattered and lost portions of the Christian family might
be discovered, and reunited to the great body of Christendom.
No one, however, entered into the matter with half the zeal
of Don Fernando de Ulmo, a young cavalier of high standing
in the Portuguese court, and of most sanguine and romantic
temperament. He had recently come to his estate, and had
run the round of all kinds of pleasures and excitements, when
this new theme of popular talk and wonder presented itself.
The Island of the Seven Cities became now the constant sub
ject of his thoughts by day and his dreams by night ; it even
rivalled his passion for a beautiful girl, one of the greatest
belles of Lisbon, to whom he was betrothed. At length his
imagination became so inflamed on the subject, that he deter
mined to fit out an expedition, at his own expense, and set sail
in quest of this sainted island. It could not be a cruise of any
great extent; for according to the calculations of the tempest-
tossed pilot, it must be somewhere in the latitude of the Cana-
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 57
ries which at that time, when the new world was as yet
undiscovered, formed the frontier of ocean enterprise. Don
Fernando applied to the crown for countenance and protection.
As he was a favorite at court, the usual patronage was readily
extended to him ; that is to say, he received a commission from
the king, Don loam II. , constituting him Adelantado, or mili
tary governor, of any country he might discover, with the
single proviso, that he should bear all the expenses of the dis
covery and pay a tenth of the profits to the crown.
Don Fernando now set to work in the true spirit of a projec
tor. He sold acre after acre of solid land, and invested the
proceeds in ships, guns, ammunition, and sea-stores. Even his
old family mansion in Lisbon was mortgaged without scruple,
for he looked forward to a palace in one of the Seven Cities of
which he was to be Adelantado. This was the age of nautical
romance, when the thoughts of all speculative dreamers were
turned to the ocean. The scheme of Don Fernando, therefore,
drew adventurers of every kind. The merchant promised
himself new marts of opulent traffic ; the soldier hoped to sack
and plunder some one or other of those Seven Cities ; even the
fat monk shook off the sleep and sloth of the cloister, to join in
a crusade which promised such increase to the possessions of
the church.
One person alone regarded the whole project with sovereign
contempt and growling hostility. This was Don Ramiro Al
varez, the father of the beautiful Serafina, to whom Don Fer
nando was betrothed. He was one of those perverse, matter-
of-fact old men who are prone to oppose every thing speculative
and romantic. He had no faith in the Island of the Seven
Cities ; regarded the projected cruise as a crack-brained freak ;
looked with angry eye and internal heart-burning on the con
duct of his intended son-in-law, chaffering away solid lands for
lands in the moon, and scoffingly dubbed him Adelantado - i
Lubberland. In fact, he had never really relished the intended
match, to which his consent had been slowly extorted by the
tears and entreaties of his daughter. It is true he could have
no reasonable objections to the youth, for Don Fernando was
the very flower of Portuguese chivalry. No one could excel
him at the tilting match, or the riding at the ring ; none was
more bold and dexterous in the bull-fight ; none composed more
gallant madrigals in praise of his lady's charms, or sang them
with sweeter tones to the accompaniment of her guitar ; nor
could any one handle the castanets and dance the bolero with
68 woLFEsra ROOST AXD MISCELLANIES.
more captivating grace. All these admirable qualities and
endowments, however, though they had been sufficient to win
the heart of Serafina, were nothing in the eyes of her unreason
able father. O Cupid, god of Love ! why will fathers always
be so unreasonable !
The engagement to Serafina had threatened at first to throw
an obstacle in the way of the expedition of Don Fernando, ana
for a time perplexed him in the extreme. He was passionately
attached to the young lady ; but he was also passionately bent
on this romantic enterprise. How should he reconcile the two
passionate inclinations? A simple and obvious arrangement at
length presented itself: marry Serafina, enjoy a portion of the
honeymoon at once, and defer the rest until his return from
the discovery of the Seven Cities 1
He hastened to make known this most excellent arrange
ment to Don Ramiro, when the long-smothered wrath of the
old cavalier burst forth in a storm about his ears. He re
proached him with being the dupe of wandering vagabonds
and wild schemers, and of squandering all his real possessions
in pursuit of empty bubbles. Don Fernando was too sanguine
a projector, and too young a man, to listen tamely to such
language. He acted with what is technically called ' ' becoming
spirit." A high quarrel ensued; Don Ramiro pronounced him
a mad man, and forbade all farther intercourse with his
daughter, until he should give proof of returning sanity by
abandoning this mad-cap enterprise; while Don Fernando
flung out of the house, more bent than ever on the expedition,
from the idea of triumphing over the incredulity of the gray-
beard when he should return successful.
Don Ramiro repaired to his daughter's chamber the moment
the youth had departed. He represented to her the sanguine,
unsteady character of her lover and the chimerical nature of
his schemes ; showed her the propriety of suspending all inter
course with him until he should recover from his present
hallucination ; folded her to his bosom with parental fondness,
kissed the tear that stole down her check, and, as he left the
chamber, gently locked the door ; for although he was a fond
father, and had a high opinion of the submissive temper of his
child, he had a still higher opinion of the conservative virtues
of lock and key. Whether the damsel had been in any wise
shaken in her faith as to the schemes of her lover, arid the
existence of the Island of the Seven Cities, by the sage repre
sentations of her father, tradition does not say ; but it is certain
TUB ENCHANTED ISLAND. 59
that she became a firm believer the moment she heard him
turn the key in the lock.
Notwithstanding the interdict of Don Ramiro, therefore, and
his shrewd precautions, the intercourse of the lovers continued,
although clandestinely. Don Fernando toiled all day, hurrying
forward his nautical enterprise, while at night he would repair,
beneath the grated balcony of his mistress, to carry on at equal
pace the no less interesting enterprise of the heart. At length
the preparations for the expedition were completed. Two gal- 1
lant caravels lay anchored in the Tagus, ready to sail with the
morning dawn ; while late at night, by the pale light of a wan
ing moon, Don Fernando sought the stately mansion of Alvarez
to take a last farewell of Serafina. The customary signal of a
few low touches of a guitar brought her to the balcony. She
was sad at heart and full of gloomy forebodings ; but her lover
strove to impart to her his own buoyant hope and youthful
confidence. ' ' A few short months, " said he, ' ' and I shall return
in triumph. Thy father will then blush at his incredulity, and
will once more welcome me to his house, when I cross its
threshold a wealthy suitor and Adelantado of the Seven Cities."
The beautiful Serafina shook her head mournfully. It was
not on those points that she felt doubt or dismay. She believed
most implicitly in the Island of the Seven Cities, and trusted
devoutly in the success of the enterprise ; but she had heard of
the inconstancy of the seas, and the inconstancy of those who
roam them. Now, let the truth be spoken, Don Fernando, if
he had any fault in the world, it was that he was a little too
inflammable; that is to say, a little too subject to take fire from
the sparkle of every bright eye : he had been somewhat of a
rover among the sex on shore, what might he not be on sea?
Might he not meet with other loves in foreign ports? Might he
not behold some peerless beauty in one or other of those seven
cities, who might efface the image of Serafina from his
thoughts?
At length she ventured to hint her doubts ; but Don Fernando
spurned at the very idea. Never could his heart be false to
Serafina! Never could another be captivating in his eyes!
never never ! Repeatedly did he bend his knee, and smite his
breast, and call upon the silver moon to witness the sincerity of
his vows. But might not Serafina, herself, be forgetful of her
plighted faith? Might not some wealthier rival present, while
he was tossing on the sea, and, backed by the authority of her
father, win the treasure of her hand?
60 WOLFERT'S ROOST AXV MISCELLANIES.
Alas, how little did he know Serafina's heart ! The more hei
father should oppose, the more would she be fixed in her faith.
Though years should pass before his return, he would find her
true to her vows. Even should the salt seas swallow him up,
(and her eyes streamed with salt tears at the very thought,)
never would she be the wife of another never never ! She
raised her beautiful white arms between the iron bars of the
balcony, and invoked the moon as a testimonial of her faith.
Thus, according to immemorial usage, the lovers parted, with
many a vow of eternal constancy. But will they keep those
vows? Perish the doubt! Have they not called the constant
moon to witness?
With the morning dawn the caravels dropped down the
Tagus and put to sea. They steered for the Canaries, in those
days the regions of nautical romance. Scarcely had they
reached those latitudes, when a violent tempest arose. Don
Fernando soon lost sight of the accompanying caravel, and was
driven out of all reckoning by the fury of the storm. For
several weary days and nights he was tossed to and fro, at the
mercy of the elements, expecting each moment to be swallowed
up. At length, one day toward evening, the storm subsided ;
the clouds cleared up, as though a veil had suddenly been with
drawn from the face of heaven, and the setting sun shone
gloriously upon a fair and mountainous island, that seemed
close at hand. The tempest-tossed mariners rubbed their
eyes, and gazed almost incredulously upon this land, that had
emerged so suddenly from the murky gloom ; yet there it lay,
spread out in lovely landscapes; enlivened by villages, and
towers, and spires, while the late stormy sea rolled in peaceful
billows to its shores. About a league from the sea, on the
banks of a river, stood a noble city, with lofty walls and towers,
and a protecting castle. Don Fernando anchored off the mouth
of the river, which appeared to form a spacious harbor. In a
little while a barge was seen issuing from the river. It was
evidently a barge of ceremony, for it was richly though quaintly
carved and gilt, and decorated with a silken awning and flutter
ing streamers, while a banner, bearing the sacred emblem of
the cross, floated to the breeze. The barge advanced slowly,
impelled by sixteen oars, painted of a bright crimson. The
oarsmen were uncouth, or rather antique, in their garb, and
kept stroke to the regular cadence of an old Spanish ditty. Be
neath the awning sat a cavalier, in a rich though old-fashioned
doublet, with an enormous sombrero and feather.
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 61
When the barge reached the caravel, the cavalier stepped on
board. He was tall and gaunt, with a long, Spanish visage,
and lack-lustre eyes, and an air of lofty and somewhat pompous
gravity. His mustaches were curled up to his ears, his beard
was forked and precise ; he wore gauntlets that reached to his
elbows, and a Toledo blade that strutted out behind, while,
in front, its huge basket-hilt might have served for a por
ringer.
Thrusting out a long spindle leg, and taking off his sombrero
with a grave and stately sweep, he saluted Don Fernando by
name, and welcomed him, in old Castilian language, and in the
style of old Castilian courtesy.
* Don Fernando was startled at hearing himself accosted by
name, by an utter stranger, in a strange land. As soon as he
could recover from his surprise, he inquired what land it was at
which he had arrived.
" The Island of the Seven Cities ! "
Could this be true? Had he indeed been thus tempest-driven
upon the very land of which he was in quest? It was even so.
The other caravel, from which he had been separated in the
storm, had made a neighboring port of the island, and an
nounced the tidings of this expedition, which came to restore
the country to the great community of Christendom. The
whole island, he was told, was given up to rejoicings on the
happy event ; and they only awaited his arrival to acknowledge
allegiance to the crown of Portugal, and hail him as Adelantado
of the Seven Cities. A grand fete was to be solemnized that
very night in the palace of the Alcayde or governor of the city ;
who, on beholding the most opportune arrival of the caravel,
had despatched his grand chamberlain, in his barge of state, to
conduct the future Adelantado to the ceremony.
Don Fernando could scarcely behove but that this was all a
dream. He fixed a scrutinizing gaze upon the grand chamber
lain, who, having delivered his message, stood in buckram dig
nity, drawn up to his full stature, curling his whiskers, stroking
his beard, and looking down upon him with inexpressible lofti
ness through his lack-lustre eyes. There was no doubting the
word of so grave and ceremonious a hidalgo.
Don Fernando now arrayed himself in gala attire. He would
have launched his boat, and gone on shore with his own men,
but he was inf orined the barge of state was expressly provided
for his accommodation, and, after the fete, would bring him
back to his ship ; in which, on the following day, he might enter
62 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
the harbor in befitting style. He accordingly stepped into the
barge, and took his seat beneath the awning. The grand
chamberlain seated himself on the cushion opposite. Tlie
rowers bent to their oars, and renewed their mournful old
ditty, and the gorgeous, but unwieldy barge moved slowly and
solemnly through the water.
The night closed in, before they entered the river. They
swept along, past rock and promontory, each guarded by its
tower. The sentinels at every post challenged them as they
passed by.
"Who goes there?"
"The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."
" He is welcome. Pass on. "
On entering the harbor, they rowed close along an armed
galley, of the most ancient form. Soldiers with cross-bows
were stationed on the deck.
" Who goes there ?" was again demanded.
" The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."
"He is welcome. Pass on."
They landed at a broad flight of stone steps, leading up, be
tween two massive towers, to the water-gate of the city, at
which they knocked for admission. A sentinel, in an ancient
steel casque, looked over the wall. "Who is there ?"
" The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."
The gate swung slowly open, grating upon its rusty hinges.
They entered between two rows of iron-clad warriors, in bat
tered armor, with cross-bows, battle-axes, and ancient maces,
and with faces as old-fashioned and rusty as their armor. They
saluted Don Fernando in military style, but with perfect silence,
as he passed between their ranks. The city was illuminated,
but in such manner as to give a more shadowy and solemn
effect to its old-time architecture. There were bonfires in the
principal streets, with groups about them in such old-fashioned
garbs, that they looked like the fantastic figures that roam the
streets in carnival time. Even the stately dames who gazed
from the balconies, which they had hung with antique tapestry,
looked more like effigies dressed up for a quaint mummery,
than like ladies in their fashionable attire. Every thing, in
short, bore the stamp of former ages, as if the world had sud
denly rolled back a few centuries. Nor was this to be wondered
at. Had not the Island of the Seven Cities been for several
hundred years cut off from all communication with the rest of
the world, and was it not natural that the inhabitants should
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 63
retain many cf the modes and customs brought here by their
ancestors ?
One thing certainly they had conserved ; the old-fashioned
Spanish gravity and stateliness. Though this was a time of
public rejoicing, and though Don Fernando was the object of
their gratulations, every thing was conducted with the most
solemn ceremony, and wherever he appeared, instead of accla
mations, he was received with profound silence, and the most
formal reverences and swayings of their sombreros.
Arrived at the palace of the Alcayde, the usual ceremonial
was repeated. The chamberlain knocked for admission.
" "Who is there ? " demanded the porter.
" The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."
" He is welcome. Pass on. "
The grand portal was thrown open. The chamberlain led the
way up a vast but heavily moulded marble stair-case, and so
through one of those interminable suites of apartments, that
are the pride of Spanish palaces. All were furnished in a style
of obsolete magnificence. As they passed through the cham
bers, the title of Don Fernando was forwarded on by servants
stationed at every door ; and every where produced the most
profound reverences and courtesies. At length they reached a
magnificent saloon, blazing with tapers, in which the Alcayde,
and the principal dignitaries of the city, were waiting to receive
their illustrious guest. The grand chamberlain presented Don
Fernando in due form, and falling back among the other
officers of the household, stood as usual curling his whiskers
and stroking his forked beard.
Don Fernando was received by the Alcayde and the other
dignitaries with the same stately and formal courtesy that he
had every where remarked. In fact, there was so much form
and ceremonial, that it seemed difficult to get at any thing
social or substantial. Nothing but bows, and compliments, and
old-fashioned courtesies. The Alcayde and his courtiers resem
bled, in face and form, those quaint worthies to be seen in the
pictures of old illuminated manuscripts; while the cavaliers
and dames who thronged the saloon, might have been taken
for the antique figures of gobelin tapestry suddenly vivified
and put in motion.
The banquet, which had been kept back until the arrival of
Don Fernando, was now announced; and such a feast! such
unknown dishes and obsolete dainties ; with the peacock, that
bird of state and ceremony, served up in full plumage, in a
64 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
golden dish, at the head of the tahle. And then, as Don Fer
nando cast his eyes over the glittering board, what a vista of
odd heads and head-dresses, of formal bearded dignitaries, and
stately dames, with castellated locks and towering plumes !
As fate would have it, on the other side of Don Fernando,
was seated the daughter of the Alcayde. Sho was arrayed, it
is true, in a dress that might have been worn before the flood ;
but then, she had a melting black Andalusian eye, that was
perfectly irresistible. Her voice, too, her manner, her move
ments, all smacked of Andalusia, and showed how female fas
cination may be transmitted from age to ago, and clime to
dime, without ever losing its power, or going out of fashion.
Those who know the witchery of the sex, in that most amorous
region of old Spain, may judge what must have been the fasci
nation to which Don Fernando was exposed, when seated beside
one of the most captivating of its descendants. He was, as has
already been hinted, of an inflammable temperament ; with a
heart ready to get in a light blaze at every instant. And then
he had been so wearied by pompous, tedious old cavaliers, with
their formal bows and speeches ; is it to be wondered at that he
turned with delight to the Alcayde's daughter, all smiles, and
dimples, and melting looks, and melting accents ? Beside, for
I wish to give him every excuse in my power, he was in a par
ticularly excitable mood, from the novelty of the scene before
him, and his head was almost turned with this sudden and
complete realization of all his hopes and fancies ; and then, in
the flurry of the moment, he had taken frequent draughts at
the wine-cup, presented him at every instant by officious pages,
and all the world knows the effect of such draughts in giving
potency to female charms. In a word, there is no concealing
the matter, the banquet was not half over, before Don Fernan
do was making love, outright, to the Alcayde's daughter. It
was his old habitude, contracted long before his matrimonial
engagement. The young lady hung her head coyly ; her eye
rested upon a ruby heart, sparkling in a ring on the hand of
Don Fernando, a parting gage of love from Serafina. A blush
crimsoned her very temples. She darted a glance of doubt at
the ring, and then at Don Fernando. He read her doubt, and
in the giddy intoxication of the moment, drew off the pledge of
his affianced bride, and slipped it on the finger of the Alcayde's
daughter.
At this moment the banquet broke up. The chamberlain
With his lofty demeanor, and his lack-lustre eyes, stood before
THE ENCHANTED ISLAND. 66
him, and announced that the barge was -waiting to conduct
back to the caravel. Don Fernando took a formal leave of the
Alcayde and his dignitaries, and a tender farewell of the Al-
cayde's daughter, with a promise to throw himself at her feet
on the following day. He was rowed back to his vessel in the
same slow and stately manner, to the cadence of the same
mournful old ditty. He retired to his cabin, his brain whirling
with all that he had seen, and his heart now and then giving
him a twinge as he recollected his temporary infidelity to the
beautiful Serafina. He flung himself on his bed, and soon fell
into a feverish sleep. His dreams were wild and incoherent.
How long he slept he knew not, but when he awoke he found
himself in a strange cabin, with persons around him of whom
he had no knowledge. He rubbed his eyes to ascertain whether
he were really awake. In reply to his inquiries, he was in
formed that he was on board of a Portuguese ship, bound to
Lisbon; having been taken senseless from a wreck drifting
about the ocean.
Don Fernando was confounded and perplexed. He retraced
every thing distinctly that had happened to him in the Island
of the Seven Cities, and until he had retired to rest on board of
the caravel. Had his vessel been driven from her anchors, and
wrecked during his sleep? The people about him could give
him no information on the subject. He talked to them of the
Island of the Seven Cities, and of all that had befallen him
there. They regarded his words as the ravings of delirium,
and in their honest solicitude, administered such rough reme
dies, that he was fain to drop the subject, and observe a
cautious taciturnity.
At length they arrived in the Tagus, and anchored before the
famous city of Lisbon. Don Fernando sprang joyfully on
shore, and hastened to his ancestral mansion. To his surprise,
it was inhabited by strangers ; and when he asked about his
family, no one could give him any information concerning
them.
He now sought the mansion of Don Eamiro, for the tempo
rary flame kindled by the bright eyes of the Alcayde's daughter
had long since burnt itself out, and his genuine passion for
Serafina had revived with all its fervor. He approached the
balcony, beneath which he had so often serenaded her. Did
his eyes deceive him? No ! There was Serafina herself at the
balcony. An exclamation of rapture burst from him, as he
raised his arms toward her. She cast upon him a look of indig-
66 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
nation, and hastily retiring, closed the casement. Could she
have heard of his flirtation with the Alcayde's daughter ? He
would soon dispel every doubt of his constancy. The door was
open. He rushed upstairs, and entering the room, threw him
self at her feet. She shrank back with affright, and took refuge
in the arms of a youthful cavalier.
"What mean you, Sir," cried the latter, " by this intrusion ? "
"What right have you," replied Don Fernando, " to ask the
question ? "
" The right of an affianced suitor ! "
Don Fernando started, and turned pale. " Oh, Serafina !
Serafina ! " cried he in a tone of agony, " is this thy plighted
constancy ? "
" Serafina ? what mean you by Serafina ? If it be this young
lady you intend, her name is Maria."
" Is not this Serafina Alvarez, and is not that her portrait ? "
cried Don Fernando, pointing to a picture of his mistress.
" Holy Virgin ! " cried the young lady ; " he is talking of my
great-grandmother ! "
An explanation ensued, if that could be called an explana
tion, which plunged the unfortunate Fernando into tenfold
perplexity. If he might believe his eyes, he saw before him
his beloved Serafina; if he might believe his ears, it was merely
her hereditary form and features, perpetuated in the person of
her great-granddaughter.
His brain began to spin. He sought the office of the Minister
of Marine, and made a report of his expedition, and of the
Island of the Seven Cities, which he had so fortunately discov
ered. No body knew any thing of such an expedition, or such
an island. He declared that he had undertaken the enterprise
under a formal contract with the crown, and had received a
regular commission, constituting him Adelantado. This must
be matter of record, and he insisted loudly, that the books of
the department should be consulted. The wordy strife at
length attracted the attention of an old, gray-headed clerk,
who sat perched on a high stool, at a high desk, with iron-
rimmed spectacles on the top of a thin, pinched nose, copying
records into an enormous folio. He had wintered and sum
mered in the department for a great part of a century, until he
had almost grown to be a piece of the desk at which he sat ;
his memory was a mere index of official facts and documents,
and his brain was little better than red tape and parchment
After peering down for a time from his lofty perch, and ascer-
THE ENCIIANTEV ISLAND. 67
turning the matter in controversy, he put his pen behind his
ear, and descended. He remembered to have heard something
from his predecessor about an expedition of the kind in ques
tion, but then it had sailed during the reign of Don loam II.,
and he had been dead at least a hundred years. To put the
matter beyond dispute, however, the archives of the Torve do
Tombo, that sepulchre of old Portuguese documents, were dili
gently searched, and a record was found of a contract between
the crown and one Fernando de Ulmo, for the discovery of the
Island of the Seven Cities, and of a commission secured to him
as Adelantado of the country he might discover.
"There!" cried Don Fernando, triumphantly, "there you
have proof, before your own eyes, of what I have said. I am
the Fernando de Ulmo specified in that record. I have discov
ered the Island of the Seven Cities, and am entitled to be
Adelantado, according to contract."
The story of Don Fernando had certainly, what is pronounced
the best of historical foundation, documentary evidence; but
when a man, in the bloom of youth, talked of events that had
taken place above a century previously, as having happened to
himself, it is no wonder that he was set down for a mad man.
The old clerk looked at him from above and below his spec
tacles, shrugged his shoulders, stroked his chin, reascended
his lofty stool, took the pen from behind his ears, and resumed
his daily and eternal task, copying records into the fiftieth
volume of a series of gigantic folios. The other clerks winked
at each other shrewdly, and dispersed to their several places,
and poor Don Fernando, thus left to himself, flung out of the
office, almost driven wild by these repeated perplexities.
In the confusion of his mind, he instinctively repaired to the
mansion of Alvarez, but it was barred against him. To break
the delusion under which the youth apparently labored, and to
convince him that the Serafina about whom he raved was really
dead, he was conducted to her tomb. There she lay, a stately
matron, cut out in alabaster ; and there lay her husband beside
her ; a portly cavalier, in armor ; and there knelt, on each side,
the effigies of a numerous progeny, proving that she had been
a fruitful vine. Even the very monument gave proof of the
lapse of time, for the hands of her husband, which were folded
as if in prayer, had lost their fingers, and the face of the once
lovely Serafina was noseless.
Don Fernando felt a transient glow of indignation at behold-
mg this monumental proof of the inconstancy of his mistress ;
68 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
but who could expect a mistress to remain constant during a
whole century of absence? And what right had he to rail
about constancy, after what had passed between him and the
Alcayde's daughter? The unfortunate cavalier performed one
pious act of tender devotion; he had the alabaster nose of
Serafina restored by a skilful statuary, and then tore himself
from the tomb.
He could now no longer doubt the fact that, somehow or
other, he had skipped over a whole century, during the night
he had spent at the Island of the Seven Cities ; and he was now
as complete a stranger in his native city, as if he had never
been there. A thousand times did he wish himself back to
that wonderful island, with its antiquated banquet halls, where
he had been so courteously received ; and now that the once
young and beautiful Serafina was nothing but a great-grand
mother in marble, with generations of descendants, a thousand
times would he recall the melting black eyes of the Alcayde's
daughter, who doubtless, like himself, was still flourishing in
fresh juvenility, and breathe a secret wish that he were seated
by her side.
He would at once have set on foot another expedition, at his
own expense, to cruise in search of the sainted island, but his
means were exhausted. He endeavored to rouse others to the
enterprise, setting forth the certainty of profitable results, of
which his own experience furnished such unquestionable
proof. Alas ! no one would give faith to his tale ; but looked
upon it as the feverish dream of a shipwrecked man. He
persisted in his efforts ; holding forth in all places and all com
panies, until he became an object of jest and jeer to the light-
minded, who mistook his earnest enthusiasm for a proof o
insanity; and the very children in the streets bantered him
with the title of "The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."
Finding all his efforts in vain, in his native city of Lisbon.
he took shipping for the Canaries, as being nearer the latitude
of his former cruise, and inhabited by people given to nautical
adventure. Here he found ready listeners to his story ; for the
old pilots and mariners of those parts were notorious island-
hunters and devout believers in all the wonders of the seas.
Indeed, one and all treated his adventure as a common occur
rence, and turning to each other, with a sagacious nod of tno
head, observed, "He has been at the Island of St. Brandan."
They then went on to inform him of that great marvel and
enigma of the ocean ; of its repeated appearance to the inhabi-
NATIONAL NOMENCLATURE. 69
tants of their islands; and of the many but ineffectual expe
ditions that had been made in search of it. They took him to
a promontory of the island of Palma, from whence the shadowy
St. Brandan had oftenest been descried, and they pointed out
the very tract in the west where its mountains had been seen.
Don Fernando listened with rapt attention. He had no longer
a doubt that this mysterious and fugacious island must be the
same with that of the Seven Cities ; and that there must be
some supernatural influence connected with it, that had
operated upon himself, and made the events of a night occupy
the space of a century.
He endeavored, but in vain, to rouse the islanders to another
attempt at discovery ; they had given up the phantom island
as indeed inaccessible. Fernando, however, was not to be dis
couraged. The idea wore itself deeper and deeper in his mind,
until it became the engrossing subject of his thoughts and
object of his being. Every morning he would repair to the
promontory of Palma, and sit there throughout the live-long
day, in hopes of seeing the fairy mountains of St. Brandan
peering above the horizon ; every evening he returned to his
home, a disappointed man, but ready to resume his post on the
following morning.
His assiduity was all in vain. He grew gray in his ineffec
tual attempt ; and was at length found dead at his post. His
grave is still shown in the island of Palma, and a cross is erected
on the spot where he used to sit and look out upon the sea, in
hopes of the reappearance of the enchanted island.
NATIONAL NOMENCLATURE.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.
SIR: I am somewhat of the same way of thinking, in regard
to names, with that profound philosopher, Mr. Shandy, the
elder, who maintained that some inspired high thoughts and
heroic aims, while others entailed irretrievable meanness and
vulgarity ; insomuch that a man might sink under the insigni
ficance of his name, and be absolutely "Nicodemused into
nothing." I have ever, therefore, thought it a great hardship
for a man to be obliged to struggle through life with some ri
70 WOLFERTS nOOST AND MISCELLANIES.
diculous or ignoble Christian name, as it is too often falsely
called, inflicted on him in infancy, when he could not chooro
for himself ; and would give him free liberty to change it for
one more to his taste, when he had arrived at years of dis
cretion.
I have the same notion with respect to local names. Somo
at once prepossess us in favor of a place ; others repel us, by
unlucky associations of the mind; and I have known scenes
worthy of being the very haunt of poetry and romance, yet
doomed to irretrievable vulgarity, by some ill-chosen name,
which not even the magic numbers of a HALLKCK or a BRYANT
could elevate into poetical acceptation.
This is an evil unfortunately too prevalent throughout our
country. Nature has stamped the land with features of subli
mity and beauty ; but some of our noblest mountains and love-
Jiest streams are in danger of remaining for ever unhonored
and unsung, from bearing appellations totally abhorrent to the
Muse. In the first place, our country is deluged with names
taken from places in the old world, and applied to places having
no possible affinity or resemblance to their namesakes. This
betokens a forlorn poverty of invention, and a second-hand
spirit, content to cover its nakedness with borrowed or cast-off
clothes of Europe.
Then we have a shallow affectation of scholarship : the whole
catalogue of ancient worthies is shaken out from the back of
Lempriere's Classical Dictionary, and a wide region of wild
country sprinkled over with the names of the heroes, poets,
and sages of antiquity, jumbled into the most whimsical juxta
position. Then we have our political god-fathers ; topographi
cal engineers, perhaps, or persons employed by government to
survey and lay out townships. These, forsooth, glorify the
patrons that give them bread ; so we have the names of the
great official men of the day scattered over the land, as if they
were the real " salt of the earth," with which it was to be sea
soned. Well for us is it, when these official great men happen
to have names of fair acceptation ; but wo unto us, should a
Tubbs or a Potts be in power : we are sure, in a little while,
to find Tubbsvilles and Pottsylvanias springing up in every
direction.
Under these melancholy dispensations of taste and loyalty,
therefore, Mr. Editor, it is with a feeling of dawning hope, that
I have lately perceived the attention of persons of intelligence
beginning to be awakened on this subject. I trust if the matr
NATIONAL NOMENCLATURE. 71
ter should once be taken up, it will not be readily abandoned.
We are yet young enough, as a country, to remedy and reform
much of what has been done, and to release many of our rising
towns and cities, and our noble streams, from names calculated
to vulgarize the land.
I have, on a former occasion, suggested the expediency
of searching out the original Indian names of places, and
wherever they are striking and euphonious, and those by
which they have been superseded are glaringly objectionable,
to restore them. They would have the merit of originality,
and of belonging to the country; and they would remain as
reliques of the native lords of the soil, when every other vestige
had disappeared. Many of these names may easily be regained,
by reference to old title deeds, and to the archives of states and
counties. In my own case, by examining the records of the
county clerk's office, I have discovered the Indian names of
various places and objects in the neighborhood, and have
found them infinitely superior to the trite, poverty-stricken
names which had been given by the settlers. A beautiful pas
toral stream, for instance, which winds for many a mile
through one of the loveliest little valleys in the state, has long
been known by the common-place name of the ' ' Saw-mill River. "
In the old Indian grants, it is designated as the Neperan.
Another, a perfectly wizard stream, which winds through the
wildest recesses of Sleepy Hollow, bears the hum-drum name
of Mill Creek : in the Indian grants, it sustains the euphonious
title of the Pocantico.
Similar researches have released Long-Island from many of
those paltry and vulgar names which fringed its beautiful shores ;
their Cow Bays, and Cow Necks, and Oyster Ponds, and Mus-
quito Coves, which spread a spell of vulgarity over the whole
island, and kept persons of taste and fancy at a distance.
It would be an object worthy the attention of the historical
societies, which are springing up in various parts of the Union,
to have maps executed of their respective states or neighbor
hoods, in which all the Indian local names should, as far as
possible, be restored. In fact, it appears to me that the nomen
clature of the country is almost of sufficient importance for the
foundation of a distinct society; or rather, a corresponding
association of persons of taste and judgment, of all parts of the
Union. Such an association, if properly constituted and com
posed, comprising especially all the literary talent of the
country, though it might not have legislative power in its
72 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
enactments, yet would have the all-pervading power of the
press ; and the changes in nomenclature which it might dictate,
being at once adopted by elegant writers in prose and poetry,
and interwoven with the literature of the country, would ulti
mately pass into popular currency.
Should such a reforming association arise, I beg to recommend
to its attention all those mongrel names that have the adjec
tive New prefixed to them, and pray they may be one and all
kicked out of the country. I am for none of these second-hand
appellations, that stamp us a second-hand people, and that are
to perpetuate us a new country to the end of time. Odds my
life ! Mr. Editor, I hope and trust we are to live to be an old
nation, as well as our neighbors, and have no idea that our
cities, when they shall have attained to venerable antiquity,
shall still be dubbed New;- York, and A T eif-London, and new this
and new that, like the Pont-Neuf, (the New Bridge,) at Paris,
which is the oldest bridge in that capital, or like the Vicar of
Wakefield's horse, which continued to be called "the colt,"
until he died of old age.
Speaking of New- York, reminds me of some observations
which I met with some time since, in one of the public papers,
about the name of our state and city. The writer proposes to
substitute for the present names, those of the STATE OF ONTARIO,
and the CITY OF MANHATTAN. I concur in his suggestion most
heartily. Though born and brought up in the city of New-
York, and though I love every stick and stone about it, yet I do
not, nor ever did, relish its name. I like neither its sound nor
its significance. As to its significance, the very adjective new
gives to our great commercial metropolis a second-hand char
acter, as if referring to some older, more dignified, and impor
tant place, of which it was a mere copy ; though in fact, if I
am rightly informed, the whole name commemorates a grant
by Charles II. to his brother, the duke of York, made in the
spirit of royal munificence, of a tract of country which did not
belong to him. As to the sound, what can you make of it,
either in poetry or prose? New- York 1 Why, Sir, if it were to
share the fate of Troy itself; to suffer a ten years' siege, and be
sacked and plundered ; no modern Homer would ever be able
to elevate the name to epic dignity.
Now, Sir, ONTARIO would be a name worthy of the empire
state. It bears with it the majesty of that internal sea which
washes our northwestern shore. Or, if any objection should be
made, from its not being completely embraced within our
NATIONAL NOMENCLATURE. 73
boundaries, there is the MOHEGAN, one of the Indian names for
that glorious river, the Hudson, which would furnish an excel
lent state appellation. So also New-York might be called Man-
hatta, as it is named in some of the early records, and Manhat
tan used as the adjective. Manhattan, however, stands well as a
substantive, and " Manhattanese," which I observe Mr. COOPEB
has adopted in some of his writings, would be a very good
appellation for a citizen of the commercial metropolis.
A word or two more, Mr. Editor, and I have done. We want
a NATIONAL NAME. We want it poetically, and we want it poli
tically. With the poetical necessity of the case I shall not
trouble myself. I leave it to our poets to tell how they manage
to steer that collocation of words, " The United States of North
America," down the swelling tide of song, and to float the
whole raft out upon the sea of heroic poesy. I am now speak
ing of the mere purposes of common life. How is a citizen of
this republic to designate himself? As an American? There
are two Americas, each subdivided into various empires,
rapidly rising in importance. As a citizen of the United
States? It is a clumsy, lumbering title, yet still it is not dis
tinctive ; for we have now the United States of Central Amer
ica; and heaven knows how many " United States" may spring
up under the Proteus changes of Spanish America.
This may appear matter of small concernment ; but any one
that has travelled in foreign countries must be conscious of the
embarrassment and circumlocution sometimes occasioned by
the want of a perfectly distinct and explicit national appella
tion. In France, when I have announced myself as an Ameri
can, I have been supposed to belong to one of the French
colonies ; in Spain, to be from Mexico, or Peru, or some other
Spanish- American country. Eepeatedly have I found myself
involved in a long geographical and political definition of my
national identity.
Now, Sir, meaning no disrespect to any of our co-heirs of this
great quarter of the world, I am for none of this coparceny in
a name that is to mingle us up with the riff-raff colonies and
off -sets of every nation of Europe. The title of American may
serve to tell the quarter of the world to which I belong, the
same as a Frenchman or an Englishman may call himself a
European ; but I want my own peculiar national name to rally
under. I want an appellation that shall tell at once, and in a
way not to be mistaken, that I belong to this very portion of
America, geographical and political, to which it is my pride
74 WOLFERT'S BOOST AND MISCELLANIES.
and happiness to belong ; that I am of the Anglo-Saxon race
which founded this Anglo-Saxon empire in the wilderness ; and
that I have no part or parcel with any other race or empire,
Spanish, French, or Portuguese, in either of the Americas.
Such an appellation, Sir, would have magic in it. It would
bind every part of the confederacy together as with a key
stone ; it would be a passport to the citizen of our republic
throughout the world.
We have it in our power to furnish ourselves with such a
national appellation, from one of the grand and eternal fea
tures of our country ; from that noble chain of mountains
which formed its back-bone, and ran through the " old con
federacy," when it first declared our national independence.
I allude to the Appalachian or Alleghany mountains. We
might do this without any very inconvenient change in our
present titles. We might still use the phrase, " The United
States," substituting Appalachia, or Alleghania, (I should pre
fer the latter,) in place of America. The title of Appalachian,
or Alleghanian, would still announce us as Americans, but
would specify us as citizens of the Great Republic. Even our
old national cypher of U. S. A. might remain unaltered, desig
nating the United States of Alleghania.
These are crude ideas, Mr. Editor, hastily thrown out to
elicit the ideas of others, and to call attention to a subject of
more national importance than may at first be supposed.
Very respectfully yours,
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
DESULTORY THOUGHTS ON CRITICISM.
" LIT a man write never so well, there are now-a-days a sort of persons they call
critics, that, egad, have no more wit in them than so many hobby-horses: but
they'll laugh at you, Sir, and find fault, and censure things, that, egad, I'm sure
they are not able to do themselves; a sort of envious persons, that emulate the
glories of persons of parts, and think to build their fame by calumniation of per
sons that, egad, to my knowledge, of all persons in the world, are in nature the
persons that do as much despise all that, as a In fine, I'll say no more of 'em 1"
REHEARSAL.
ALL the world knows the story of the tempest-tossed voyager,
who, coming upon a strange coast, and seeing a man hanging
in chains, hailed it with joy, as the sign of a civilized country.
In like manner we may ha_il, as a proof of the rapid advance
DESULTORY THOUGHTS ON CRITICISM. 79
ment of civilization and refinement in this country, the in'
creasing number of delinquent authors daily gibbeted for the
edification of the public.
In this respect, as in every other, we are "going ahead " with
accelerated velocity, and promising to outstrip the superannu
ated countries of Europe. It is really astonishing to see the
number of tribunals incessantly springing up for the trial of
literary offences. Independent of the high courts of Oyer and
Terminer, the great quarterly reviews, we have innumerable
minor tribunals, monthly and weekly, down to the Pie-poudre
courts in the daily papers ; insomuch that no culprit stands so
little chance of escaping castigation, as an unlucky author,
guilty of an unsuccessful attempt to please the public.
Seriously speaking, however, it is questionable whether our
national literature is sufficiently advanced, to bear this excess
of criticism ; and whether it would not thrive better, if allowed
to spring up, for some time longer, in the freshness and vigor
of native vegetation. When the worthy Judge Coulter, of
Virginia, opened court for the first time in one of the upper
counties, he was for enforcing all the rules and regulations
that had grown into use in the old, long-settled counties.
"This is all very well," said a shrewd old farmer; "but let me
tell you, Judge Coulter, you set your coulter too deep for a
new soil."
For my part, I doubt whether either writer or reader is
benefited by what is commonly called criticism. The former
is rendered cautious and distrustful ; he fears to give way to
those kindling emotions, and brave sallies of thought, which
bear him up to excellence; the latter is made fastidious and
cynical; or rather, he surrenders his own independent taste
and judgment, and learns to like and dislike at second hand.
Let us, for a moment, consider the nature of this thing called
criticism, which exerts such a sway over the literary world.
The pronoun we, used by critics, has a most imposing and
delusive sound. The reader pictures to himself a conclave of
learned men, deliberating gravely and scrupulously on the
merits of the book in question; examining it page by page,
comparing and balancing their opinions, and when they have
united in a conscientious verdict, publishing it for the benefit
of the world : whereas the criticism is generally the crude and
hasty production of an individual, scribbling to while away an
idle hour, to oblige a book-seller, or to defray current expenses.
How often is it the passing notion of the hour, affected by
76 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
accidental circumstances ; by indisposition, by peevishness, by
vapors or indigestion ; by personal prejudice, or party feeling.
Sometimes a work is sacrificed, because the reviewer wishes a
satirical article ; sometimes because he wants a humorous one ,
and sometimes because the author reviewed has become offen
sively celebrated, and offers high game to the literary marks
man.
How often would the critic himself, if a conscientious man,
reverse his opinion, had he time to revise it in a more sunny
moment ; but the press is waiting, the printer's devil is at
his elbow ; the article is wanted to make the requisite variety
for the number of the review, or the author has pressing
occasion for the sum he is to receive for the article, so it is sent
off, all blotted and blurred ; with a shrug of the shoulders, and
the consolatory ejaculation: "Pshaw! curse it! it's nothing
but a review !"
The critic, too, who dictates thus oracularly to the world, is
perhaps some dingy, ill-favored, ill-mannered varlet, who,
were he to speak by word of mouth, would be disregarded, if
not scoffed at ; but such is the magic of types ; such the mystic
operation of anonymous writing; such the potential effect of
the pronoun we, that his crude decisions, fulminated through
the press, become circulated far and wide, control the opinions
of the world, and give or destroy reputation.
Many readers have grown timorous in their judgments since
the all-pervading currency of criticism. They fear to express
a revised, frank opinion about any new work, and to relish it
honestly and heartily, lest it should be condemned in the next
review, and they stand convicted of bad taste. Hence they
hedge their opinions, like a gambler his bets, and leave an
opening to retract, and retreat, and qualify, and neutralize
every unguarded expression of delight, until their very praise
declines into a faintness that is damning.
Were every one, on the contrary, to judge for himself, and
speak his mind frankly and fearlessly, we should have more
true criticism in the world than at present. Whenever a per
son is pleased with a work, he may be assured that it has good
qualities. An author who pleases a variety of readers, must
possess substantial powers of pleasing; or, in other words,
intrinsic merits ; for otherwise we acknowledge an effect, and
deny the cause. The reader, therefore, should not suffer him
self to be readily shaken from the conviction of his own feelings,
by the sweeping censures of pseudo critics. The author he has
DESULTORY THOUGHTS ON CRITICISM. 77
admired, may be chargeable with a thousand faults ; but it is
nevertheless beauties and excellencies that have excited his
admiration ; and he should recollect that taste and judgment
are as much evinced in the perception of beauties among
defects, as in a detection of defects among beauties. For my
part, I honor the blessed and blessing spirit that is quick to dis
cover and extol all that is pleasing and meritorious. Give me
the honest bee, that extracts honey from the humblest weed,
but save me from the ingenuity of the spider, which traces its
venom, even in the midst of a flower-garden.
If the mere fact of being chargeable with faults and imper
fections is to condemn an author, who is to escape? The great
est writers of antiqiiity have, in this way, been obnoxious to
criticism. Aristotle himself has been accused of ignorance;
Aristophanes of impiety and buffoonery ; Virgil of plagiarism,
and a want of invention ; Horace of obscurity ; Cicero has been
said to want vigor and connexion, and Demosthenes to be
deficient in nature, and in purity of language. Yet these have
all survived the censures of the critic, and flourished on to a
glorious immortality. Every now and then the world is startled
by some new doctrines in matters of taste, some levelling attacks
on established creeds ; some sweeping denunciations of whole
generations, or schools of writers, as they are called, who had
seemed to be embalmed and canonized in public opinion. Such
has been the case, fur instance, with Pope, and Dryden, and
Addison, who for a time have almost been shaken from their
pedestals, and treated as false idols.
It is singular, also, to see the fickleness of the world with
respect to its favorites. Enthusiasm exhausts itself, and pre
pares the way for dislike. The public is always for positive
sentiments, and new sensations. When wearied of admiring, it
delights to censure ; thus coining a double set of enjoyments out
of the same subject. Scott and Byron are scarce cold in their
graves, and already we find criticism beginning to call in ques
tion those powers which held the world in magic thraldom.
Even in our own country, one of its greatest geniuses has had
some rough passages with the censors of the press ; and instant
ly criticism begins to unsay all that it has repeatedly said in
his praise ; and the public are almost led to believe that the pen
which has so often delighted them, is absolutely destitute of the
power to delight !
If, then, such reverses in opinion as to matters of taste can
be so readily brought about,, when may an author feel himself
78 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND ^fTSCSLLANISS.
secure? Where is the anchorin^-ground of popularity, when
he may thus be driven from his moorings, and foundered even
in harbor? The reader, too, when he is to consider himself
safe in admiring, when he sees long-established altars over
thrown, and his household deities dashed to the ground !
There is one consolatory reflection. Every abuse carries with
it its own remedy or palliation. Thus the excess of crude and
hasty criticism, which has of late prevailed throughout the
literary world, and threatened to overrun our country, begins
to produce its own antidote. Where there is a multiplicity of
contradictory paths, a man must make his choice ; in so doing,
he has to exercise his judgment, and that is one great step to
mental independence. He begins to doubt all, where all differ,
and but one can be in the right. He is driven to trust to his
own discernment, and his natural f eelings ; and here he is most
likely to be safe. The author, too, finding that what is con
demned at one tribunal, is applauded at another, though per
plexed for a time, gives way at length to the spontaneous
impulse of his genius, and the dictates of his taste, and writes
in the way most natural to himself. It is thus that criticism,
which by its severity may have held the little world of writers
in check, may, by its very excess, disarm itself of its terrors,
and the hardihood of talent become restored. G. C.
SPANISH EOMANCE.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.
SIR: I have already given you a legend or two drawn from
ancient Spanish sources, and may occasionally give you a few
more. I love these old Spanish themes, especially when they
have a dash of the Morisco in them, and treat of the times
when the Moslems maintained a foot-hold in the peninsula.
They have a high, spicy, oriental flavor, not to be found in any
other themes that are merely European. In fact, Spain is a
country that stands alone in the midst of Europe ; severed in
habits, manners, and modes of thinking, from all its conti
nental neighbors. It is a romantic country ; but its romance
has none of the sentimentality of modern European romance ;
it is chiefly derived from the brilliant regions of the East, and
from the high-minded school of Saracenic chivalry.
SPANISH ROMANCE. 79
The Arab invasion and conquest brought a higher civilization
and a nobler style of thinking into Gothic Spain. The Arabs
were a quick-witted, sagacious, proud-spirited, and poetical
people, and were imbued with oriental science and literature.
Wherever they established a seat of power, it became a rally
ing place lor the learned and ingenious ; and they softened and
refined the people whom they conquered. By degrees, occu
pancy seemed to give them a hereditary right to their foot
hold in the land ; they ceased to be looked upon as invaders,
and were regarded as rival neighbors. The peninsula, broken
up into a variety of states, both Christian and Moslem, became
for centuries a great campaigning ground, where the art of war
seemed to be the principal business of man, and was carried to
the highest pitch of romantic chivalry. The original ground
of hostility, a difference of faith, gradually lost its rancor.
Neighboring states, of opposite creeds, were occasionally linked
together in alliances, offensive and defensive ; so that the cross
and crescent were to be seen side by side fighting against some
common enemy. In times of peace, too, the noble youth of
either faith resorted to the same cities, Christian or Moslem, to
school themselves in military science. Even in the temporary
truces of sanguinary wars, the warriors who had recently
striven together in the deadly conflicts of the field, laid aside
their animosity, met at tournaments, jousts, and other mili
tary festivities, and exchanged the courtesies of gentle and
generous spirits. Thus the opposite races became frequently
mingled together in peaceful intercourse, or if any rivalry took
place, it was in those high courtesies and nobler acts which be
speak the accomplished cavalier. Warriors of opposite creeds
became ambitious of transcending each other in magnanimity
as well as valor. Indeed, the chivalric virtues were refined
upon to a degree sometimes fastidious and constrained ; but at
other tunes, inexpressibly noble and affecting. The annals of
the times teem with illustrious instances of hight-wrought
courtesy, romantic generosity, lofty disinterestedness, and
punctilious honor, that warm the very soul to read them.
These have furnished themes for national plays and poems, or
have been celebrated in those all-pervading ballads which are
as the life-breath of the people, and thus have continued to
exercise an influence on the national character which centuries
of vicissitude and decline have not been able to destroy ; so
that, with all their faults, and they are many, the Spaniards,
even at the present day, are on many points the most high-
80 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
minded and proud-spirited people of Europe. It is true, the
romance of feeling derived from the sources I have mentioned,
has, like all other romance, its affectations and extremes. It
renders the Spaniard at times pompous and grandiloquent;
prone to carry the " pundonor," or point of honor, beyond the
bounds of sober sense and sound morality; disposed, in tho
midst of poverty, to affect the " grande caballero," and to look
down with sovereign disdain upon "arts mechanical," and all
the gainful pursuits of plebeian lif e ; but this very inflation of
spirit, while it fills his brain with vapors, lifts him above a
thousand meannesses; and though it often keeps him in in
digence, ever protects him from vulgarity.
In the present day, when popular literature is running into
the low levels of life and luxuriating on the vices and follies of
mankind, and when the universal pursuit of gain is trampling
down the early growth of poetic feeling and wearing out the
verdure of the soul, I question whether it would not be of
service for the reader occasionally to turn to these records of
prouder tunes and loftier modes of thinking, and to steep him
self to the very lips in old Spanish romance.
For my own part, I have a shelf or two of venerable, parch
ment-bound tomes, picked up here and there about the pe
ninsula, and filled with chronicles, plays, and ballads, about
Moors and Christians, which I keep by me as mental tonics, in
the same way that a provident housewife has her cupboard
of cordials. Whenever I find my mind brought below par
by the commonplace of every-day life, or jarred by the sordid
collisions of the world, or put out of tune by the shrewd
selfishness of modern utilitarianism, I resort to these venerable
tomes, as did the worthy hero of La Mancha to his books of
chivalry, and refresh and tone up my spirit by a deep draught
of their contents. They have some such effect upon me as
Falstaff ascribes to a good Sherris sack, " warming the blood
and filling the brain with fiery and delectable shapes."
I here subjoin, Mr. Editor, a small specimen of the cordials I
have mentioned, just drawn from my Spanish cupboard, which
I recommend to your palate. If you find it to your taste, you
may pass it on to your readers.
Your correspondent and well-wisher,
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
SPANISH ROMANCE. 81.
LEGEND OF DON MUNIO SANCHO DE HINOJ08A.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH-BOOK.
IN the cloisters of the ancient Benedictine convent of San
Domingo, at Silos, in Castile, are the mouldering yet magni
ficent monuments of the once powerful and chivalrous family
of Ilinojosa. Among these, reclines the marble figure of a
knight, in complete armor, with the hands pressed together, as
it in prayer. On one side of his tomb is sculptured in relief a
band of Christian cavaliers, capturing a cavalcade of male and
female Moors ; on the other side, the same cavaliers are repre
sented kneeling before an altar. The tomb, like most of the
neighboring monuments, is almost in ruins, and the sculpture
is nearly unintelligible, excepting to the keen eye of the anti
quary. The story connected with the sepulchre, however, is
still preserved in the old Spanish chronicles, and is to the fol
lowing purport.
IN old times, several hundred years ago, there was a noble
Castilian cavalier, named Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, lord
of a border castle, which had stood the brunt of many a Moor
ish foray. He had seventy horsemen as his household troops,
all of the ancient Castilian proof ; stark warriors, hard riders,
and men of iron ; with these he scoured the Moorish lands, and
made his name terrible throughout the borders. His castle
hall was covered with banners, and scimetars, and Moslem
helms, the trophies of his prowess. Don Munio was, more
over, a keen huntsman; and rejoiced in hounds of all kinds,
steeds for the chase, and hawks for the towering sport of
falconry. When not engaged in warfare, his delight was to
, beat up the neighboring forests ; and scarcely ever did he ride
forth, without hound and horn, a boar-spear in his hand, or
a hawk upon his fist, and an attendant train of huntsmen.
His wife, Donna Maria Palacin, was of a gentle and timid na
ture, little fitted to be the spouse of so hardy and adventurous
a knight ; and many a tear did the poor lady shed, when he
sallied forth upon his daring enterprises, and many a prayer
did she offer up for his safety.
As this doughty cavalier was one day hunting, he stationed
himself in a thicket, on tho borders of a green glade of the
82 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
forest, and dispersed his followers to rouse the game, and
drive it toward his stand. He had not been here long, when a
cavalcade of Moors, of both sexes, came prankling over the
forest lawn. They were unarmed, and magnificently dressed
in robes of tissue and embroidery, rich shawls of India, brace
lets and anklets of gold, and jewels that sparkled in the sun.
At the head of this gay cavalcade, rode a youthful cavalier,
superior to the rest in dignity and loftiness of demeanor, and
in splendor of attire; beside him was a damsel, whose veil,
blown aside by the breeze, displayed a face of surpassing
beauty, and eyes cast down in maiden modesty, yet beaming
with tenderness and joy.
Don Munio thanked his stars for sending him such a prize,
and exulted at the thought of bearing home to his wife the
glittering spoils of these infidels. Putting his hunting-horn to
his lips, he gave a blast that rung through the forest. His
huntsmen came running from all quarters, and the astonished
Moors were surrounded and made captives.
The beautiful Moor wrung her hands in despair, and her
female attendants uttered the most piercing cries. The young
Moorish cavalier alone retained self-possession. He inquired
the name of the Christian knight, who commanded this troop
of horsemen. When told that it was Don Munio Snncho de
Hinojosa, his countenance lighted up. Approaching that
cavalier, and kissing his hand, "Don Munio Sancho," said he,
" I have heard of your fame as a true and valiant knight, ter
rible in arms, but schooled in the noble virtues of chivalry.
Such do I trust to find you. In me you behold Abadil, son of
a Moorish Alcayde. I am on the way to celebrate my nuptials
with this lady ; chance has thrown us in your power, but I
confide in your magnanimity. Take all our treasure and
jewels; demand what ransom you think proper for our per
sons, but suffer us not to be insulted or dishonored."
When the good knight heard this appeal, and beheld the
beauty of the youthful pair, his heart was touched with ten
derness and courtesy. "God forbid," said he, "that I should
disturb such happy nuptials. My prisoners in troth shall ye
be, for fifteen days, and immured within my castle, where I
claim, as conqueror, the right of celebrating your espousals. "
So saying, he despatched one of his fleetest horsemen in
advance, to notify Donna Maria Palacin of the coming of this
bridal party; while he and his huntsmen escorted the caval
cade, not as captors, but as a guard of honor. As they drew
SPANISH ROMANCE. 83
near to the castle, the banners were hung out, and the trum
pets sounded from the battlements; and on their nearer ap
proach, the draw-bridge was lowered, and Donna Maria came
forth to meet them, attended by her ladies and knights, her
pages and her minstrels. She took the young bride, Allifra, in
her arms, kissed her with the tenderness of a sister, and con
ducted her into the castle. In the mean time, Don Munio sent
forth missives in every direction, and had viands and dainties
of all kinds collected from the country round ; and the wedding
of the Moorish lovers was celebrated with all possible state and
festivity. For fifteen days, the castle was given up to joy and
revelry. There were til tings and jousts at the ring, and bull
fights, and banquets, and dances to the sound of minstrelsy.
When the fifteen days were at an end, he made the bride and
bridegroom magnificent presents, and conducted them and
their attendants safely beyond the borders. Such, in old
times, were the courtesy and generosity of a Spanish cava
lier.
Several years after this event, the King of Castile sum
moned his nobles to assist him in a campaign against the
Moors. Don Munio Sancho was among the first to answer to
the call, with seventy horsemen, all staunch and well-tried
warriors. His wife, Donna Maria, hung about his neck.
"Alas, my lord!" exclaimed she, " how of ten wilt thou tempt
thy fate, and when will thy thirst for glory be appeased !"
" One battle more," replied Don Munio, "one battle more, for
the honor of Castile, and I here make a vow, that when this is
over, I will lay by my sword, and repair with my cavaliers in
pilgrimage to the sepulchre of our Lord at Jerusalem." The
cavaliers all joined with him in the vow, and Donna Maria felt
in some degree soothed in spirit : still, she saw with a heavy
heart the departure of her husband, and watched his banner
with wistful eyes, until it disappeared among the trees of the
forest.
The King of Castile led his army to the plains of Almanara,
where they encountered the Moorish host, near to Ucles. The
battle was long and bloody ; the Christians repeatedly wavered,
and were as often rallied by the energy of their commanders.
Don Munio was covered with wounds, but refused to leave the
field. The Christians at length gave way, and the king was
hardly pressed, and in danger of being captured.
Don Munio called upon his cavaliers to follow him to the
rescue. "Now is the time," cried he, " to prove your loyalty
84 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
Fall to, like brave men ! We fight for the true faith, and if we
lose our li ves here, we gain a better life hereafter. "
Rushing with his men between the king and his pursuers,
they checked the latter in their career, and gave time for their
monarch to escape; but they fell victims to their loyalty.
They all fought to the last gasp. Don Munio was singled out
by a powerful Moorish knight, but having been wounded in
the right arm, he fought to disadvantage, and was slain. The
battle being over, the Moor paused to possess himself of the
spoils of this redoubtable Christian warrior. When he unlaced
the helmet, however, and beheld the countenance of Don
Munio, he gave a great cry, and smote his breast. "Wo is
me!" cried he; "I have slain my benefactor! The flower of
knightly virtue ! the most magnanimous of cavaliers !"
WHILE the battle had been raging on the plain of Salmanara,
Donna Maria Palacin remained in her castle, a prey to the
keenest anxiety. Her eyes were ever fixed on the road that
led from the country of the Moors, and often she asked the
watchman of the tower, " What seest thou?"
One evening, at the shadowy hour of twilight, the warden
sounded his horn. " I see," cried he, " a numerous train wind
ing up the valley. There are mingled Moors and Christians.
The banner of my lord is in the advance. Joyful tidings !" ex
claimed the old seneschal: "my lord returns in triumph, and
brings captives !" Then the castle courts rang with shouts of
joy ; and the standard was displayed, and the trumpets were
sounded, and the draw-bridge was lowered, and Donna Maria
went forth with her ladies, and her knights, and her pages,
and her minstrels, to welcome her lord from the wars. But as
the train drew nigh, she beheld a sumptuous bier, covered with
black velvet, and on it lay a warrior, as if taking his repose:
he lay in his armor, with his helmet on his head, and his
sword in his hand, as one who had never been conquered, and
around the bier were the escutcheons of the house of Hinojosa.
A number of Moorish cavaliers attended the bier, with em
blems of mourning, and with dejected countenances : and their
leader cast himself at the feet of Donna Maria, and hid his face
in his hands. She beheld in him the gallant Abadil, whom she
had once welcomed with his bride to her castle, but who now
came with the body of her lord, whom he had unknowingly
slain in battle I
SPANISH ROMANCE. 85
THE sepulchre erected in the cloisters of the Convent of San
Domingo was achieved at the expense of the Moor Abadil, as
a feeble testimony of his grief for the death of the good knight
Don Munio, and his reverence for his memory. The tender
and faithful Donna Maria soon followed her lord to the tomb.
On one of the stones of a small arch, beside his sepulchre, is
the following simple inscription : ' ' Hie jacet Maria Palacin,
uxor Munonis Sancij de Finojosa :" Here lies Maria Palacin,
wife of Munio Sancho de Hinojosa.
The legend of Don Munio Sancho does not conclude with his
death. On the same day on which the battle took place on the
plain of Salmanara, a chaplain of the Holy Temple at Jerusa
lem, while standing at the outer gate, beheld a train of Chris
tian cavaliers advancing, as if in pilgrimage. The chaplain
was a native of Spain, and as the pilgrims approached, he
knew the foremost to be Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa, with
whom he had been well acquainted in former tunes. Hasten
ing to the patriarch, he told him of the honorable rank of the
pilgrims at the gate. The patriarch, therefore, went forth
with a grand procession of priests and monks, and received
the pilgrims with all due honor. There were seventy cava
liers, beside their leader, all stark and lofty warriors. They
carried their helmets in their hands, and their faces were
deadly pale. They greeted no one, nor looked either to the
right or to the left, but entered the chapel, and kneeling be
fore the Sepulchre of our Saviour, performed their orisons in
silence. When they had concluded, they rose as if to depart,
and the patriarch and his attendants advanced to speak to
them, but they were no more to be seen. Every one mar
velled what could be the meaning of this prodigy. The patri
arch carefully noted down the day, and sent to Castile to learn
tidings of Don Munio Sancho de Hinojosa. He received for
reply, that on the very day specified, that worthy knight, with
seventy of his followers, had been slain in battle. These,
therefore, must have been the blessed spirits of those Chris
tian warriors, come to fulfil their vow of a pilgrimage to the
Holy Sepulchre at Jerusalem. Such was Castilian faith, in
the olden time, which kept its word, even beyond the grave.
If any one should doubt of the miraculous apparition of
these phantom knights, let him consult the History of the
Kings of Castile and Leon, by the learned and pious Fray
Prudencio de Sandoval, Bishop of Pamplona, where he vr!!l
find it recorded in the History of the King Don Alonzo YI. , en
86 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
the hundred and second page. It is too precious a legend to
be lightly abandoned to the doubter.
COMMUNIPAW.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.
SIR : I observe, with pleasure, that you are performing from
time to time a pious duty, imposed upon you, I may say, by
the name you have adopted as your titular standard, in fol
lowing in the footsteps of the venerable KNICKERBOCKER, and
Cleaning every fact concerning the early times of the Manhat-
toes which may have escaped his hand. I trust, therefore, a
few particulars, legendary and statistical, concerning a place
which figures conspicuously in the early pages of his history,
will not be unacceptable. I allude, Sir, to the ancient and
renowned village of Communipaw, which, according to the
veracious Diedrich, and to equally veracious tradition, was
the first spot where our ever-to-be-lamented Dutch progeni
tors planted their standard and cast the seeds of empire, and
from whence subsequently sailed the memorable expedition
under Oloffe the Dreamer, which landed on the opposite island
of Manhatta, and founded the present city of New- York, the
city of dreams and speculations.
Communipaw, therefore, may truly be called the parent of
New- York ; yet it is an astonishing fact, that though immedi
ately opposite to the great city it has produced, from whence
its red roofs and tin weather-cocks can actually be descried
peering above the surrounding apple orchards, it should bo
almost as rarely visited, and as little known by the inhabi
tants of the metropolis, as if it had been locked up among the
Rocky Mountains. Sir, I think there is something unnatural
in this, especially in these times of ramble and research, when
our citizens are antiquity-hunting in every part of the world.
Curiosity, like charity, should begin at home; and I would
enjoin it on our worthy burghers, especially those of the real
Knickerbocker breed, before they send their sons abroad to
wonder and grow wise among the remains of Greece and
Rome, to let them make a tour of ancient Pavonia, from Wee-
hawk even to the Kills, and meditate, with filial reverence, ou
tiic moss-grown mansions of Communipaw.
COMMUNIPAW. 87
Sir, I regard this much-neglected village as one of the most
remarkable places in the country. The intelligent traveller
as he looks down upon it from the Bergen Heights, modestly
nestled among its cabbage-gardens, while the great flaunting
city it has begotten is stretching far and wide on the opposite
side of the bay, the intelligent traveller, I say, will be filled with
astonishment ; not, Sir, at the village of Communipaw, which
in truth is a very small village, but at the almost incredible
fact that so small a village should have produced so great a
city. It looks to him, indeed, like some squat little dame,
with a tall grenadier of a son strutting by her side ; or some
simple-hearted hen that has unwittingly hatched out a long-
legged turkey.
But this is not all for which Communipaw is remarkable.
Sir, it is interesting on another account. It is to the ancient
province of the New-Netherlands and the classic era of the
Dutch dynasty, what Herculaneum and Pompeii are to an
cient Eome and the glorious days of the empire. Here every
thing remains in statu quo, as it was in the days of Oloffe the
Dreamer, Walter the Doubter, and the other worthies of the
golden age ; the same broad -brimmed hats and broad-bottomed
breeches; the same knee-buckles and shoe-buckles; the same
close-quilled caps and linsey-woolsey short-gowns and petti
coats ; the same implements and utensils and forms and fash
ions ; in a word, Communipaw at the present day is a picture
of what New- Amsterdam was before the conquest. The "in
telligent traveller" aforesaid, as he treads its streets, is struck
fcdth the primitive character of every thing around him. In
stead of Grecian temples for dwelling-houses, with a great
column of pine boards in the way of every window, he beholds
high peaked roofs, gable ends to the street, with weather-cocks
at top, and windows of all sorts and sizes ; large ones for the
grown-up members of the family, and little ones for the little
folk. Instead of cold marble porches, with close-locked doors
and brass knockers, he sees the doors hospitably open; the
worthy burgher smoking his pipe on the old-fashioned stoop
in front, with his ' ' vrouw" knitting beside him ; and the cat
and her kittens at their feet sleeping in the sunshine.
Astonished at the obsolete and "old world " air of every thing
around him, the intelligent traveller demands how all this has
come to pass. Herculaneum and Pompeii remain, it is true,
unaffected by the varying fashions of centuries ; but they were
buried by a volcano and preserved in ashes. What charmed
88 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIE,
spell has kept this wonderful tittle place unchanged, though in
Bight of the most changeful city in the universe? Has it, too,
been buried under its cabbage-gardens, and only dug out in
modern days for the wonder and edification of the world? The
reply involves a point of history, worthy of notice and record,
and reflecting immortal honor on Communipaw.
At the time when New- Amsterdam was invaded and con
quered by British foes, as has been related in the history of tho
venerable Diedrich, a great dispersion took place among the
Dutch inhabitants. Many, like the illustrious Peter Stuyvcs-
ant, buried themselves in rural retreats in the Bowerie ; others,
like Wolfert Acker, took refuge in various remote parts cf tho
Hudson ; but there was one staunch, unconquerable band that
determined to keep together, and preserve themselves, liko
seed corn, for the future fructification and perpetuity of the
Knickerbocker race. These were headed by one Garret Van
Home, a gigantic Dutchman, the Pelayo of the New-Nether
lands. Under his guidance, they retreated across the bay and
buried themselves among the marshes of ancient Pavonia, as
did the followers of Pelayo among the mountains of Asturias,
when Spain was overrun by its Arabian invaders.
The gallant Van Home set up his standard at Communipaw,
and invited all those to rally under it, who were true Neder-
landers at heart, and determined to resist all foreign intermix
ture or encroachment. A strict non-intercourse was observed
with the captured city; not a boat ever crossed to it from
Communipaw, and the English language was rigorously tabooed
throughout the village and its dependencies. Every man was
sworn to wear his hat, cut his coat, build his house, and har
ness his horses, exactly as his father had done before him ; and
to por^ait nothing but the Dutch language to be spoken in his
household.
As a citadel of the place, and a strong-hold for the preserva
tion and defence of every thing Dutch, the gallant Van Home
erected a lordly mansion, with a chimney perched at every
corner, which thence derived the aristocratical name of " The
House of the Four Chimneys." Hither he transferred many of
the precious reliques of New- Amsterdam ; the great round-
crowned hat that once covered the capacious head of Wal
ter the Doubter, and the identical shoe with which Peter the
Headstrong kicked his pusillanimous councillors down-stairs.
St. Nicholas, it is said, took this loyal house under his especial
protection; and a Dutch soothsayer predicted, that as long as
COMMUNIPAW. 89
it should stand, CommunipaAV would be safe from the intrusion
either of Briton or Yankee.
In this house would the gallant Van Home and his compeers
hold frequent councils of war, as to the possibility of re-conquer
ing the province from the British ; and here would they sit
for hours, nay, days, together smoking their pipes and keeping
watch upon the growing city of New- York ; groaning in spirit
whenever they saw a new house erected or ship launched, and
persuading themselves that Admiral Van Tromp would one day
or other arrive to sweep out the invaders with the broom which
he carried at his mast-head.
Years rolled by, but Van Tromp never arrived. The British
strengthened themselves in the land, and the captured city
flourished under their domination. Still, the worthies of Com-
munipaw would not despair; something or other, they were
sure, would turn up to restore the power of the Hogen Mogens,
the Lord States-General ; so they kept smoking and smoking,
and watching and watching, and turning the same few thoughts
over and over in a perpetual circle, which is commonly called
deliberating. In the mean time, being hemmed up within a
narrow compass, between the broad bay and the Bergen hills,
they grew poorer and poorer, until they had scarce the where
withal to maintain their pipes in fuel during their endless
deliberations.
And now must I relate a circumstance which will call for a little
exertion of faith on the part of the reader ; but I can only say
that if he doubts it, he had better not utter his doubts in Com-
munipaw, as it is among the religious belief s of the place. It is,
in fact, nothing more nor less than a miracle, worked by the
blessed St. Nicholas, for the relief and sustenance of this loyal
community.
It so happened, in this time of extremity, that in the course
of cleaning the House of the Four Chimneys, by an ignorant
housewife who knew nothing of the historic value of the rel-
iques it contained, the old hat of Walter the Doubter and the
executive shoe of Peter the Headstrong were thrown out of
doors as rubbish. But mark the consequence. The good St.
Nicholas kept watch over these precious reliques, and wrought
out of them a wonderful providence.
The hat of Walter the Doubter falling on a stercoraceous
heap of compost, in the rear of the house, began forthwith to
vegetate. Its broad brim spread forth grandly and exfoliated,
and its round crown swelled and crimped and consolidated
90 WOLFERTS ROOST A^ 7 D MISCELLANIES.
until the whole became a prodigious cabbage, rivalling in mag
nitude the capacious head of the Doubter. In a word, it was
the origin of that renowned species of cabbage known, by all
Dutch epicures, by the name of the Governor's Head, and
which is to this day the glory of Communipaw.
On the other hand, the shoe of Peter Stuy vesant being thrown
into the river, in front of the house, gradually hardened and
concreted, and became covered with barnacles, and at length
turned into a gigantic oyster, being the progenitor of that illus
trious species known throughout the gastronomical world by
the name of the Governor's Foot.
These miracles were the salvation of Communipaw. The
sages of the place immediately saw in them the hand of St.
Nicholas, and understood their mystic signification. They set
to work with all diligence to cultivate and multiply these great
blessings; and so abundantly did the gubernatorial hat and
shoe fructify and increase, that in a little time great patches of
cabbages were to be seen extending from the village of Com
munipaw quite to the Bergen Hills ; while the whole bottom of
the bay in front became a vast bed of oysters. Ever since that
time this excellent community has been divided into two great
classes : those who cultivate the land and those who cultivate the
water. The former have devoted themselves to the nurture
and edification of cabbages, rearing them in all their varieties ;
while the latter have formed parks and plantations, under
water, to which juvenile oysters are transplanted from foreign
parts, to finish their education.
As these great sources of profit multiplied upon their hands,
the worthy inhabitants of Communipaw began to long for a
market at which to dispose of their superabundance. This
gradually produced once more an intercourse with New- York ;
but it was always carried on by the old people and the negroes;
never would they permit the young folks, of either sex, to visit
the city, lest they should get tainted with foreign manners and
bring home foreign fashions. Even to thi? day, if you see an
old burgher in the market, with hat and garb of antique Dutch
fashion, you may be sure he is one of the old unconquered race
of the " bitter blood," who maintain their strong-hold at Com
munipaw.
In modern days, the hereditary bitterness against the English
has lost much of its asperity, or rather has become merged in
a new source of jealousy and apprehension : I allude to the inces
sant and wide-spreading irruptions from New-England. Word
COmiUNIPAW. 91
1' a? Teen continually brought back to Communipaw, by those
of the community who return from their trading voyages in
cabbages and oysters, of the alarming power which the Yan
kees are gaining in the ancient city of New -Amsterdam ; elbow
ing the genuine Knickerbockers out of all civic posts of honor
and profit; bargaining them out of their hereditary home
steads; pulling down the venerable houses, with crow-step
gables, which have stood since the time of the Dutch rule,
and erecting, instead, granite stores, and marble banks; in
a word, evincing a deadly determination to obliterate every
vestige of the good old Dutch times.
In consequence of the jealousy thus awakened, the worthy
traders from Communipaw confine their dealings, as much as
possible, to the genuine Dutch families. If they furnish the
Yankees at all, it is with inferior articles. Never can the latter
procure a real "Governor's Head," or "Governor's Foot,"
though they have offered extravagant prices for the same,
to grace their table on the annual festival of the New-England
Society.
But what has carried this hostility to the Yankees to the
highest pitch, was an attempt made by that all-pervading race
to get possession of Communipaw itself. Yes, Sir ; during the
late mania for land speculation, a daring company of Yankee
projectors landed before the village ; stopped the honest burgh
ers on the public highway, and endeavored to bargain them
out of their hereditary acres ; displayed lithographic maps, in
which their cabbage-gardens were laid out into town lots ; their
oyster-parks into docks and quays ; and even the House of the
Four Chimneys metamorphosed into a bank, which was to
enrich the whole neighborhood with paper money.
Fortunately, the gallant Van Homes came to the rescue, just
as some of the worthy burghers were on the point of capitulat
ing. The Yankees were put to the rout, with signal confusion,
and have never since dared to show their faces in the place.
The good people continue to cultivate their cabbages, and rear
> lieir oysters ; they know nothing of banks, nor joint stock com
panies, but treasure up their money in stocking-feet, at the
bottom of the family chest, or bury it in iron pots, as did their
fathers and grandfathers before them.
As to the House of the Four Chimneys, it still remains in the
great and tall family of the Van Homes. Here are to be seen
ancient Dutch corner cupboards, chests of drawers, and mas
sive clothes-presses, quaintly carved, and carefully waxed and
92 WOLFERTS liUOST AXD MISCELLANIES.
polished ; together with divers thick, black-letter volumes, with
brass clasps, printed of yore in Leyden and Amsterdam, and
handed down from generation to generation, in the family, but
never read. They are preserved in the archives, among sun
dry old parchment deeds, in Dutch and English, bearing the
seals of the early governors of the province.
In this house, the primitive Dutch holidays of Paas and
I'luxter are faithfully kept up; and New- Year celebrated with
cookies and cherry-bounce ; nor is the festival of the blessed
St. Nicholas forgotten, when all the children are sure to hang
up their stockings, and to have them filled according to their
deserts; though, it is said, the good saint is occasionally per
plexed in his nocturnal visits, which chimney to descend.
Of late, this portentous mansion has begun to give signs of
dilapidation and decay. Some have attributed this to the
visits made by the young people to the city, and their bringing
thence various modem fashions; and to their neglect of the
Dutch language, which is gradually becoming confined to the
older persons in the community. The house, too, was greatly
shaken by high winds, during the prevalence of the speculation
mania, especially at the time of the landing of the Yankees.
Seeing how mysteriously the fate of Communipaw is identified
with this venerable mansion, we cannot wonder that the older
and wiser heads of the community should be filled with dismay,
whenever a brick is toppled down from one of the chimneys, or
a weather-cock is blown off from a gable-end.
The present lord of this historic pile, I am happy to say, is
calculated to maintain it in all its integrity. He is of patri
archal age, and is worthy of the days of the patriarchs. He
has done his utmost to increase and multiply the true race in
the land. His wife has not been inferior to him in zeal, and
they are surrounded by a goodly progeny of children, and
grand-children, and great-grand-children, who promise to per
petuate the name of Van Home, until time shall be no more.
So be it ! Long may the horn of the Van Homes continue to
be exalted in the land ! Tall as they are, may their shadows
never be less ! May the House of the Four Chimneys remain
for ages, the citadel of Communipaw, and the smoke of its
chimneys continue to ascend, a sweet-smelling incense in the
nose of St. Nicholas I
With great respect, Mr. Editor,
Your ob't servant,
HKRMANUS VANDKRDONK.
CONSPIRACY OF THE COCKED HATS. 93
CONSPIRACY OF THE COCKED HATS.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER.
SIR : I have read with great satisfaction the valuable paper
of your correspondent, Mr. HERMANUS VANDERDONK, (who, I
take it, is a descendant of the learned Adrian Vanderdonk, one
of the early historians of the Nieuw Nederlands,) giving sundry
particulars, legendary and statistical, touching the venerable
village of Communipaw and its fate-bound citadel, the House
of the Four Chimneys. It goes to prove what I have repeatedly
maintained, that we live in the midst of history and mystery
and romance ; and that there is no spot in the world more rich
in themes for the writer of historic novels, heroic melodramas,
and rough-shod epics, than this same business-looking city of
the Manhattoes and its environs. He who would find these
elements, however, must not seek them among the modern
improvements and modern people of this moneyed metropolis,
but must dig for them, as for Kidd the pirate's treasures, in
out-of-the-way places, and among the ruins of the past.
Poetry and romance received a fatal blow at the overthrow of
the ancient Dutch dynasty, and have ever since been gradually
withering under the growing domination of the Yankees. They
abandoned our hearths when the old Dutch tiles were super
seded by marble chimney-pieces ; when brass andirons made
way for polished grates, and the crackling and blazing fire of
nut-wood gave place to the smoke and stench of Liverpool
coal; and on the downfah 1 of the last gable-end house, their
requiem was toUed from the tower of the Dutch church in
Nassau-street by the old bell that came from HoUand. But
poetry and romance still live unseen among us, or seen only by
the enlightened few, who are able to contemplate this city and
its environs through the medium of tradition, and clothed with
the associations of foregone ages.
Would you seek these elements in the country, Mr. Editor,
avoid all turnpikes, rail-roads, and steamboats, those abomina
ble inventions by which the usurping Yankees are strengthen
ing themselves in the land, and subduing every thing to utility
and common-place. Avoid all towns and cities of white clap
board palaces and Grecian temples, studded with "Academies,"
"Seminaries," and "Institutes," which glisten along our bays
04 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MTSCELLAN1ES.
and rivers; these are the strong-holds of Yankee usurpation;
but if haply you light upon some rough, rambling road, wind
ing between stone fences, gray with moss, and overgrown with
elder, poke-berry, mullein, and sweet-briar, with here and
there a low, red-roofed, whitewashed farm-house, cowering
among apple and cherry trees ; an old stone church, with elms,
| willows, and button- woods, as old-looking as itself, and tomb
stones almost buried in their own graves ; and, peradventure,
a small log school-house at a cross-road, where the English is
still taught with a thickness of the tongue, instead of a twang
of the nose ; should you, I say, light upon such a neighborhood,
Mr. Editor, you may thank your stare that you have found one
of the lingering haunts of poetry and romance.
Your correspondent, Sir, has touched upon that sublime and
affecting feature in the history of Communipaw, the retreat of
the patriotic band of Noderlanders, led by Van Home, whom
he justly terms the Pelayo of the New-Netherlands. He has
given you a picture of the manner in which they ensconced
themselves in the House of the Four Chimneys, and awaited
with heroic patience and perseverance the day that should see
the flag of the Hogen Mogens once more floating on the fort of
New- Amsterdam.
Your correspondent, Sir, has but given you a glimpse over
the threshold ; I will now let you into the heart of the mystery
of this most mysterious and eventful village. Yes, sir, I will
now
"unclasp a secret book;
And to your quick conceiving discontents,
I'll read you matter deep and dangerous,
As full of peril and adventurous spirit,
As to o'er walk a current, roaring loud,
On the unsteadfast footing of a spear."
Sir, it is one of the most beautiful and interesting facts con
nected with the history of Communipaw, that the early feel
ing of resistance to foreign rule, alluded to by your corre
spondent, is still kept up. Yes, sir, a settled, secret, and deter
mined conspiracy has been going on for generations among
this indomitable people, the descendants of the refugees from
New- Amsterdam ; the object of which is to redeem their an
cient seat of empire, and to drive the losel Yankees out of the
land.
Communipaw, it is true, has the glory of originating this
conspiracy; and it was hatched and reared in the House of the
Four Chimneys ; but it has spread far and wide over ancient
CONSPIRACY OF THE COCKED HATS. 95
Favonia, surmounted the heights of Bergen, Hoboken, and
Weehawk, crept up along the banks of the Passaic and the
riackensack, until it pervades the whole chivalry of the coun
try from Tappan Slote in the north to Piscataway in the south,
including the pugnacious village of Rahway, more heroically
denominated Spank-town.
Throughout all these regions a great ' ' in-and-in confederacy"
prevails, that is to say, a confederacy among the Dutch fami
lies, by dint of diligent and exclusive intermarriage, to keep
the race pure and to multiply. If ever, Mr. Editor, in the
course of your travels between Spank-town and Tappan Slote,
you should see a cosey, low-eaved farm-house, teeming with
sturdy, broad-built little urchins, you may set it down as one
of the breeding places of this grand secret confederacy, stocked
with the embryo deliverers of New- Amsterdam.
Another step in the progress of this patriotic conspiracy, is
the establishment, in various places within the ancient boun
daries of the Nieuw-Nederlands, of secret, or rather mysterious
associations, composed of the genuine sons of the Nederlanders,
with the ostensible object of keeping up the memory of old
times and customs, but with the real object of promoting the
views of this dark and mighty plot, and extending its ramifi
cations throughout the land.
Sir, I am descended from a long line of genuine Nederland
ers, who, though they remained in the city of New- Amsterdam
after the conquest, and throughout the usurpation, have never
hi their hearts been able to tolerate the yoke imposed upon
them. My worthy father, who was one of the last of the
cocked hats, had a little knot of cronies, of his own stamp, who
used to meet in our wainscoted parlor, round a nut-wood fire,
talk over old times, when the city was ruled by its native
burgomasters, and groan over the monopoly of all places of
power and profit by the Yankees. I well recollect the effect
upon this worthy little conclave, when the Yankees first insti
tuted their New-England Society, held their "national festival,"
toasted their " father land," and sang their foreign songs of tri
umph within the very precincts of our ancient metropolis.
Sir, from that day, my father held the smell of codfish and po
tatoes, and the sight of pumpkin pie, in utter abomination;
and whenever the annual dinner of the New-England Society
came round, it was a sore anniversary for his children. He
got up in an ill humor, grumbled and growled throughout the
day, and not one of us went to bed that night, without having
96 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
had his jacket well trounced, to the tune of " The Pilgrim
Fathers."
You may judge, then, Mr. Editor, of the exaltation of all
true patriots of this stamp, when the Society of Saint Nich
olas was set up among us, and intrepidly established, cheek by
jole, alongside of the society of the invaders. Never shall I
forget the effect upon my father and his little knot of brother
groaners, when tidings were brought them that the ancient
banner of the Manhattoes was actually floating from the win
dow of the City Hotel. Sir, they nearly jumped out of their
silver-buckled shoes for joy. They took down their cocked
hats from the pegs on which they had hanged them, as the
Israelites of yore hung their harps upon the willows, in token
of bondage, clapped them resolutely once more upon their
heads, and cocked them in the face of every Yankee they met
on the way to the banqueting-room.
The institution of this society was hailed with transport
throughout the whole extent of the New-Netherlands ; being
considered a secret foothold gained in New- Amsterdam, and a
flattering presage of future triumph. Whenever that society
holds its annual feast, a sympathetic hilarity prevails through
out the land ; ancient Pavonia sends over its contributions of
cabbages and oysters ; the House of the Four Chimneys is
splendidly illuminated, and the traditional song of St. Nicholas,
the mystic bond of union and conspiracy, is chaunted with
closed doors, in every genuine Dutch family.
I have thus, I trust, Mr. Editor, opened your eyes to some
of the grand moral, poetical, and political phenomena with
which you are surrounded. You will now be able to read the
" signs of the times." You will now understand what is meant
by those " Knickerbocker Halls," and " Knickerbocker Hotels,"
and "Knickerbocker Lunches," that are daily springing up
in our city, and what all these " Knickerbocker Omni
buses " are driving at. You will see in them so many clouds
before a storm ; so many mysterious but sublime intimations
of the gathering vengeance of a great though oppressed peo
ple. Above all, you will now contemplate our bay and its por
tentous borders, with proper feelings of awe and admiration.
Talk of the Bay of Naples, and its volcanic mountains ! Why,
Sir, little Communipaw, sleeping among its cabbage gardens,
"quiet as gunpowder," yet with this tremendous conspiracy
brewing in its bosom, is an object ten times as sublime
(in a moral point of view, mark me) as Vesuvius in repose,
CONSPIRACY OF TUB COCKED HATS. 97
though charged with lava and brimstone, and ready for an
eruption.
Let me advert to a circumstance connected with this theme,
which cannot but be appreciated by every heart of sensibility.
You must have remarked, Mr. Editor, on summer evenings,
and on Sunday afternoons, certain grave, primitive-looking
personages, walking the Battery, in close confabulation, with
their canes behind their backs, and ever and anon turning a
wistful gaze toward the Jersey shore. These, Sir, are the sons
of Saint Nicholas, the genuine Nederlanders ; who regard Com-
mumpaw with pious reverence, not merely as the progenitor,
but the destined regenerator, of this great metropolis. Yes,
Sir ; they are looking with longing eyes to the green marshes
of ancient Pavonia, as did the poor conquered Spaniards of
yore toward the stern mountains of Asturias, wondering
whether the day of deliverance is at hand. Many is the time,
when, in my boyhood, I have walked with my father and his
confidential compeers on the Battery, and listened to their cal
culations and conjectures, and observed the points of their
sharp cocked hats evermore turned toward Pavonia. Nay, Sir,
I am convinced that at this moment, if I were to take down the
cocked hat of my lamented father from the peg on which it has
hung for years, and were to carry it to the Battery, its centre
point, true as the needle to the pole, would turn to Communipaw.
Mr. Editor, the great historic drama of New- Amsterdam, is
but half acted. The reigns of Walter the Doubter, William
the Testy, and Peter the Headstrong, with the rise, progress,
and decline of the Dutch dynasty, are but so many parts of
the main action, the triumphant catastrophe of which is yet
to come. Yes, Sir! the deliverance of the New-Nederlands
from Yankee domination will eclipse the far-famed redemp
tion of Spain from the Moors, and the oft-sung conquest of
Granada will fade before the chivalrous triumph of New-
Amsterdam. Would that Peter Stuyvesant could rise from his
grave to witness that day I
Your humble servant,
ROLOFF VAN RIPPER.
P. S. Just as I had concluded the foregoing epistle, I received
a piece of intelligence, which makes me tremble for the fate of
Communipaw. I fear, Mr. Editor, the grand conspiracy is in
danger of being countermined and counteracted, by those all-
98 WOLFEBT8 JIOOST AND MISCELLANIES.
pervading and indefatigable Yankees. Would you think it,
Sir ! one of them has actually effected an entry in the place by
covered way ; or in other words, under coverof the petticoats.
Finding every other mode ineffectual, he secretly laid siege to
a Dutch heiress, who owns a great cabbage-garden in her
own right. Being a smooth-tongued varlet, he easily prevailed
on her to elope with him, and they were privately married at
Spank-town! The first notice the good people of Communi-
paw had of this awful event, was a lithographed map of the
cabbage garden laid out in town lots, and advertised for sale 1
On the night of the wedding, the main weather-cock of the
House of the Four Chimneys was carried away in a whirl
wind! The greatest consternation reigns throughout the
village!
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER MAGAZINE.
SIR : I observed in your last month's periodical, a communi
cation from a Mr. VANDERDONK, giving some information con
cerning Communipaw. I herewith send you, Mr. Editor, a
legend connected with that place ; and am much surprised it
should have escaped the researches of your very authentic cor
respondent, as it relates to an edifice scarcely less fated than
the House of the Four Chimneys. I give you the legend in its
crude and simple state, as I heard it related ; it is capable, how
ever, of being dilated, inflated, and dressed up into very im
posing shape and dimensions. Should any of your ingenious
contributors in this line feel inclined to take it in hand, they
will find a/nple materials, collateral and illustrative, among
the papers of the late Reinier Skaats, many years since crier
of the court, and keeper of the City Hall, in the city of the
Manhattoes ; or in the library of that important and utterly re
nowned functionary, Mr. Jacob Hays, long time high constable,
who, in the course of his extensive researches, has amassed
an amount of valuable facts, to be rivalled only by that great
historical collection, "The Newgate Calendar."
Your humble servant,
BARBNT VAN SCHAICK.
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW. 99
GUESTS FROM GIBBET-ISLAND.
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW.
WHOEVER has visited the ancient and renowned village
Of Communipaw, may have noticed an old stone building,
of most ruinous and sinister appearance. The doors and win
dow-shutters are ready to drop from their hinges ; old clothes
are stuffed in the broken panes of glass, while legions of half-
starved dogs prowl about the premises, and rush out and bark
at every passer-by; for your beggarly house in a village is
tnost apt to swarm with profligate and ill-conditioned dogs.
What adds to the sinister appearance of this mansion, is a tall
frame in front, not a little resembling a gallows, and which
looks as if waiting to accommodate some of the inhabitants
with a well-merited airing. It is not a gallows, however, but
an ancient sign-post ; for this dwelling, in the golden days of
Communipaw, was one of the most orderly and peaceful of
village taverns, where all the public affairs of Communipaw
were talked and smoked over. In fact, it was in this very
building that Oloffe the Dreamer, and his companions, con
certed that great voyage of discovery and colonization, in which
they explored Buttermilk Channel, were nearly shipwrecked in
the strait of Hell-gate, and finally landed on the Island of Man
hattan, and founded the great city of New- Amsterdam.
Even after the province had been cruelly wrested from the
sway of their High Mightinesses, by the combined forces of the
British and Yankees, this tavern continued its ancient loyalty.
It is true, the head of the Prince of Orange disappeared from
the sign ; a strange bird being painted over it, with the explan
atory legend of " DIE WILDE GANS, " or The Wild Goose; but
this all the world knew to be a sly riddle of the landlord, the
worthy Teunis Van Gieson, a knowing man in a small way,
who laid his finger beside his nose and winked, when any
one studied the signification of his sign, and observed that his
Koose was hatching, but would join the flock whenever they
flew over the water ; an enigma which was the perpetual rec
reation and delight of the loyal but fat-headed burghers of
Communipaw.
Under the sway of this patriotic, though discreet and quiet
publican, the tavern continued to flourish in primeval trail'
1(!0 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
quillity, and was the resort of all true-hearted Nederlanders,
from all parts of Pavonia ; who met here quietly and secretly,
to smoke and drink the downfall of Briton and Yankee, and
success to Admiral Van Tromp.
The only drawback on the comfort of the establishment, was
a nephew of mine host, a sister's son, Yan Yost Vanderscamp
by name, and a real scamp by nature. This unlucky whipster
showed an early propensity to mischief, which he gratified in
a, small way, by playing tricks upon the frequenters of the
Wild Goose; putting gunpowder in their pipes, or squibs in
their pockets, and astonishing them with an explosion, while
they sat nodding round the fire-place in the bar-room ; and if
perchance a worthy burgher from some distant part of Pavonia
had lingered until dark over his potation, it was odds but that
young Vanderscamp would slip a briar under his horse's tail,
as he mounted, and send him clattering along the road, in neck'
or-nothing style, to his infinite astonishment and discomfiture.
It may be wondered at, that mine host of the Wild Goose did
not turn such a graceless varlet out of doors ; but Teunis Van
Gieson was an easy-tempered man, and, having no child of his
own, looked upon his nephew with almost parental indulgence.
His patience and good-nature were doomed to be tried by an
other inmate of his mansion. This was a cross-grained cur
mudgeon of a negro, named Pluto, who was a kind of enigma
in Communipaw. Where he came from, nobody knew. He
was found one morning, after a storm, cast like a sea-monster
on the strand, in front of the Wild Goose, and lay there, more
dead than alive. The neighbors gathered round, and specu
lated on this production of the deep ; whether it were fish or
flesh, or a compound of both, commonly yclept a merman.
The kind-hearted Teunis Van Gieson, seeing that he wore the
human form, took him into his house, and warmed him into
life. By degrees, he showed signs of intelligence, and even
uttered sounds very much like language, but which no one in'
Communipaw could understand. Some thought him a negro
just from Guinea, who had either fallen overboard, or escaped
from a slave-ship. Nothing, however, could ever draw from
him any account of his origin. When questioned on the sub
ject, he merely pointed to Gibbet-Island, a small rocky islet,
which lies in the open bay, just opposite to Communipaw, as
if that were his native place, though every body knew it had
never been inhabited.
In the process of time, he acquired something of the Dutch
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW. 101
language, that is to say, he learnt all its vocabulary of oaths
and maledictions, with just words sufficient to string them to
gether. "Bonder en blicksen!" (thunder and lightning,) was
the gentlest of his ejaculations. For years he kept about the
Wild Goose, more like one of those familiar spirits, or house
hold goblins, that we read of, than like a human being. He
acknowledged allegiance to no one, but performed various
domestic offices, when it suited his humor ; waiting occasion
ally on the guests ; grooming the horses, cutting wood, drawing
water ; and all this without being ordered. Lay any command
on him, and the stubborn sea-urchin was sure to rebel. He was
never so much at home, however, as when on the water, plying
about in skiff or canoe, entirely alone, fishing, crabbing, or
grabbing for oysters, and would bring home quantities for the
larder of the Wild Goose, which he would throw down at the
kitchen door, with a growl. No wind nor weather deterred him
from launching forth on his favorite element: indeed, the
wilder the weather, the more he seemed to enjoy it. If a
storm was brewing, he was sure to put off from shore; and
would be seen far out in the bay, his light skiff dancing like a
feather on the waves, when sea and sky were all in a turmoil,
and the stoutest ships were fain to lower their sails. Some
times, on such occasions, he would be absent for days together.
How he weathered the tempest, and how and where he sub
sisted, no one could divine, nor did any one venture to ask, for
all had an almost superstitious awe of him. Some of the Com-
munipaw oystermen declared that they had more than once
seen him suddenly disappear, canoe and all, as if they plunged
beneath the waves, and after a while come up again, in quite a
different part of the bay ; whence they concluded that he could
live under water like that notable species of wild duck, com
monly called the Hell-diver. All began to consider him in the
light of a foul-weather bird, like the Mother Carey's Chicken,
or Stormy Petrel ; and whenever they saw him putting far out
in his skiff, in cloudy weather, made up their minds for a
storm.
The only being for whom he seemed to have any liking, was
Yan Yost Vanderscamp, and him he liked for his very wicked
ness. He in a manner took the boy under his tutelage,
prompted him to all kinds of mischief, aided him in every wild,
harum-scarum freak, until the lad became the complete scape
grace of the village ; a pest to his uncle, and to every one else.
Nor were his pranks confined to the land ; he soon learned to
102 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
accompany old Pluto on the water. Together these worthies
would cruise about the broad bay, and all the neighboring
Btraits and rivers ; poking around in skiffs and canoes ; robbing
the set-nets of the fishermen; landing on remote coasts, and
laying waste orchards and water-melon patches; in short,
carrying on a complete system of piracy, on a small scale!
Piloted by Pluto, the youthful Vanderscamp soon became
acquainted with all the bays, rivers, creeks, and inlets of the
watery world around him; could navigate from the Hook to
Spiting-devil on the darkest night, and learned to set even the
terrors of Hell-gate at defiance.
At length, negro and boy suddenly disappeared, and days
and weeks elapsed, but without tidings of them. Some said
they must have run away and gone to sea; others jocosely
hinted, that old Pluto, being no other than his namesake in
disguise, had spirited away the boy to the nether regions. All,
however, agreed in one thing, that the village was well rid
of them.
In the process of time, the good Teunis Van Gieson slept with
his fathers, and the tavern remained shut up, waiting for a
claimant, for the next heir was Yan Yost Vanderscamp, and
he had not been heard of for years. At length, one day, a boat
was seen pulling for the shore, from a long, black, rakish-look
ing schooner, that lay at anchor in the bay. The boat's crew
seemed worthy of the craft from which they debarked. Never
had such a set of noisy, roistering, swaggering varlets landed
in peaceful Communipaw. They were outlandish in garb and
demeanor, and were headed by a rough, burly, bully ruffian,
with fiery whiskers, a copper nose, a scar across his face, and
a great Maunderish beaver slouched on one side of his head, in
whom, to their dismay, the quiet inhabitants were made to
recognize their early pest, Yan Yost Vanderscamp. The rear
of this hopeful gang was brought up by old Pluto, who had lost
an eye, grown grizzly-headed, and looked more like a devil
than ever. Vanderscamp renewed his acquaintance with the
old burghers, much against their will, and in a manner not at
all to their taste. He slapped them familiarly on the back,
gave them an iron grip of the hand, and was hail fellow well
met. According to his own account, he had been all the world
over ; had made money by bags full ; had ships in every sea,
and now meant to turn the Wild Goose into a country seat,
where he and his comrades, all rich merchants from foreign
parts, might enjoy themselves in the interval of their voyages.
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW. 103
Sure enough, in a little while there was a complete metamor
phose of the Wild Goose. From being a quiet, peaceful Dutch
public house, it became a most riotous, uproarious private
dwelling ; a complete rendezvous for boisterous men of the seas,
who came here to have what they called a 'blow out" on dry
land, and might be seen at all hours, lounging about the door,
or lolling out of the windows; swearing among themselves,
and cracking rough jokes on every passer-by. The house was
fitted up, too, in so strange a manner : hammocks slung to the
walls, instead of bedsteads ; odd kinds of furniture, of foreign
fashion; bamboo couches, Spanish chairs; pistols, cutlasses,
and blunderbusses, suspended on every peg; silver crucifixes
on the mantel-pieces, silver candle-sticks and porringers on
the tables, contrasting oddly with the pewter and Delf ware
of the original establishment. And then the strange amuse
ments of these sea-monsters ! Pitching Spanish dollars, instead
of quoits; firing blunderbusses out of the window; shoot
ing at a mark, or at any unhappy dog, or cat, or pig, or
barn-door fowl, that might happen to come within reach.
The only being who seemed to relish their rough waggery,
was old Pluto ; and yet he led but a dog's lif e of it ; for they
practised all kinds of manual jokes upon him; kicked him
about like a foot-ball ; shook him by his grizzly mop of wool,
and never spoke to him without coupling a curse by way of
adjective to his name, and consigning him to the infernal re
gions. The old fellow, however, seemed to like them the better,
the more they cursed him, though his utmost expression of
pleasure never amounted to more than the growl of a petted
bear, when his ears are rubbed.
Old Pluto was the ministering spirit at the orgies of the Wild
Goose; and such orgies as took place there! Such drinking,
singing, whooping, swearing; with an occasional interlude of
quarrelling and fighting. The noisier grew the revel, the more
old Pluto plied the potations, until the guests would become
frantic in their merriment, smashing every thing to pieces, and
throwing the house out of the windows. Sometimes, after a
drinking bout, they sallied forth and scoured the village, to
the dismay of the worthy burghers, who gathered their women
within doors, and would have shut up the-house. Vanderscamp,
however, was not to be rebuffed. He insisted on renewing
acquaintance with his old neighbors, and on introducing his
friends, the merchants, to their families; swore he was on the
look-out for a wife, and meant, before he stopped, to find hug-
104 WOLFKRTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
bands for all their daughters. So, will-ye, nil-ye, sociable he
was ; swaggered about their best parlors, with his hat on one
side of his head ; sat on the good wife's nicely- waxed mahogany
table, kicking his heels against the carved and polished legs ;
kissed and tousled the young vrouws ; and, if they frowned and
pouted, gave them a gold rosary, or a sparkling cross, to put
them in good humor again.
Sometimes nothing would satisfy him, but he must have
some of his old neighbors to dinner at the Wild Goose.
There was no refusing him, for he had got the complete upper-
hand of the community, and the peaceful burghers all stood
in awe of him. But what a time would the quiet, worthy
men have, among these rake-hells, who would delight to as
tound them with the most extravagant gunpowder tales, em
broidered with all kinds of foreign oaths ; clink the can with
them ; pledge them in deep potations ; bawl drinking songs in
their ears; and occasionally fire pistols over their heads, or
under the table, and then laugh in their faces, and ask them
how they liked the smell of gunpowder.
Thus was the little village of Communipaw for a time like
the unfortunate wight possessed with devils; until Vander-
scamp and his brother merchants would sail on another
trading voyage, when the Wild Goose would be shut up, and
every thing relapse into quiet, only to be disturbed by his next
visitation.
The mystery of all these proceedings gradually dawned upon
the tardy intellects of Communipaw. These were the times
of the notorious Captain Kidd, when the American harbors
were the resorts of piratical adventurers of all kinds, who,
under pretext of mercantile voyages, scoured the West Indies,
made plundering descents upon the Spanish Main, visited
even the remote Indian Seas, and then came to dispose of
their booty, have their revels, and fit out new expeditions, in
the English colonies.
Vanderscamp had served in this hopeful school, and having
risen to importance among the bucaniers, had pitched upon
his native village and early home, as a quiet, out-of-the-way,
unsuspected place, where he and his comrades, while anchored
at New York, might have their feasts, and concert their plans,
without molestation.
At length the attention of the British government was called
to these piratical enterprises, that were becoming so frequent
and outrageous. Vigorous measures were taken to check and
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW. 105
punish them. Several of the most noted freebooters were
caught and executed, and three of Vanderscamp's chosen com
rades, the most riotous swash-bucklers of the Wild Goose,
were hanged in chains on Gibbet-Island, in full sight of their
favorite resort. As to Vanderscamp himself, he and his man
Pluto again disappeared, and it was hoped by the people of
Communipaw that he had fallen in some foreign brawl, or
been swung on some foreign gallows.
For a time, therefore, the tranquillity of the village was re
stored ; the worthy Dutchmen once more smoked their pipes
in peace, eying, with peculiar complacency, their old pests and
terrors, the pirates, dangling and drying in the sun, on Gibbet-
Island.
This perfect calm was doomed at length to be ruffled. The
fiery persecution of the pirates gradually subsided. Justice
was satisfied with the examples that had been made, and there
was no more talk of Kidd, and the other heroes of like kidney.
On a calm summer evening, a boat, somewhat heavily laden,
was seen pulling into Communipaw. What was the surprise
and disquiet of the inhabitants, to see Yan Yost Vanderscamp
seated at the helm, and his man Pluto tugging at the oars !
Vanderscamp, however, was apparently an altered man. He
brought home with him a wife, who seemed to be a shrew,
and to have the upper-hand of him. He no longer was thfl
swaggering, bully ruffian, but affected the regular merchant,
and talked of retiring from business, and settling down
quietly, to pass the rest of his days in his native place.
The Wild Goose mansion was again opened, but with dimi
nished splendor, and no riot. It is true, Vanderscamp had fre
quent nautical visitors, and the sound of revelry was occasion
ally overheard in his house ; but every thing seemed to be done
under the rose ; and old Pluto was the only servant that offi
ciated at these orgies. The visitors, indeed, were by no means
of the turbulent stamp of their predecessors ; but quiet, mys
terious traders, full of nods, and winks, and hieroglyphic
signs, with whom, to use their cant phrase, " every thing was
smug. " Their ships came to anchor at night in the lower baj ;
and, on a private signal, Vanderscamp would launch his boat,
and accompanied solely by his man Pluto, would make them
mysterious visits. Sometimes boats pulled in at night, in
front of the Wild Goose, and various articles of merchandise
were landed in the dark, and spirited away, nobody knew
whither. One of the more curious of the inhabitants kept
106 WOLFKRTS ROOST AND MISQBLLAXISS,
watch, and caught a glimpse of the features of some of these
night visitors, by the casual glance of a lantern, and declared
that he recognized more than one of the freebooting frequen
ters of the Wild Goose, in former times ; from whence he con
cluded that Vanderscamp was at his old game, and that this
mysterious merchandise was nothing more nor less than
piratical plunder. The more charitable opinion, however, was,
that Vanderscamp and his comrades, having been driven
from their old line of business, by the " oppressions of govern
ment," had resorted to smuggling to make both ends meet.
Be that as it may : I come now to the extraordinary fact,
which is the butt-end of this story. It happened late one
night, that Yan Yost Vanderscamp was returning across the
broad bay, in his light skiff, rowed by his man Pluto. Ho
had been carousing on board of a vessel, newly arrived, and
was somewhat obfuscated in intellect, by the liquor he had
imbibed. It was a still, sultry night ; a heavy mass of lurid
clouds was rising in the west, with the low muttering of dis
tant thunder. Vanderscamp called on Pluto to pull lustily,
that they might get home before the gathering storm. The
old negro made no reply, but shaped his course so as to skirt
the rocky shores of Gibbet-Island. A faint creaking overhead
caused Vanderscamp to cast up his eyes, when, to his horror,
he beheld the bodies of his three pot companions and brothers
in iniquity dangling in the moonlight, their rags fluttering, and
their chains creaking, as they were slowly swung backward
and forward by the rising breeze.
"What do you mean, you blockhead!" cried Vanderscamp,
" by pulling so close to the island?"
" I thought you'd be glad to see your old friends once more,"
growled the negro; "you were never afraid of a living man,
what do you fear from the dead?"
" Who's afraid?" hiccupped Vanderscamp, partly heated by
liquor, partly nettled by the jeer of the negro; " who's afraid!
Hang me, but I would be glad to see them once more, alive or
dead, at the Wild Goose. Come, my lads in the wind I" con
tinued he, taking a draught, and flourishing the bottle above
his head, " here's fair weather to you in the other world; and
if you should be walking the rounds to-night, odds fish! but
111 be happy if you will drop in to supper."
A dismal creaking was the only reply. The wind blew loud
and shrill, and as it whistled round the gallows, and among the
bones, sounded as if there were laughing and gibbering in the
A LEGEND OF COMMUNIPAW. 107
air. Old Pluto chuckled to himsel f, and now pulled for home.
The storm, burst over the voyagers, while they were yet far
from, shore. The rain fell in torrents, the thunder crashed and
pealed, and the lightning kept up an incessant blaze. It was
stark midnight, before they landed at Communipaw.
Dripping and shivering, Vanderscamp crawled homeward,
lie was completely sobered by the storm ; the water soaked
from without, having diluted and cooled the liquor within.
Arrived at the Wild Goose, he knocked timidly aud dubiously
at the door, for he dreaded the reception he was to experience
from his wife. He had reason to do so. She met him at the
threshold, in a precious ill humor.
"Is this a time," said she, "to keep people out of their beds,
and to bring home company, to turn the house upside down?"
"Company?" said Vanderscamp, meekly; "I have brought
no company with me, wife. "
"No, indeed! they have got here before you, but by your
invitation ; and blessed-looking company they are, truly !"
Vanderscamp's knees smote together. "For the love of
heaven, where are they, wife?"
"Where? why, in the blue-room, up-stairs, making them
selves as much at home as if the house were their own. "
Vanderscamp made a desperate effort, scrambled up to the
room, and threw open the door. Sure enough, there at a table,
on which burned a light as blue as brimstone, sat the three
guests from Gibbet-Island, with halters round their necks, and
bobbing their cups together, as if they were hob-or-nobbing,
and trolling the old Dutch freebooter's glee, since translated
into English :
" For three merry lads be we,
And three merry lads be we ;
I on the land, and thou on the sand,
And Jack on the gallows-tree."
Vanderscamp saw and heard no more. Starting back with
horror, he missed his fooling on the landing-place, and fell
from the top of the stairs to the bottom. He was taken up
speechless, and, either from the fall or the fright, was buried
in the yard of the little Dutch church at Bergen, on the fol
lowing Sunday.
From that day forward, the fate of the Wild Goose was
sealed. It was pronounced a haunted house, and avoided ac
cordingly. No one inhabited it but Vanderscamp's shrew of
a widow, and old Pluto, and they were considered but little
108 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
better than its hobgoblin visitors. Pluto grew more and more
haggard and morose, and looked more like an imp of darkness
than a human being. He spoke to no one, but went about mut
tering to himself; or, as some hinted, talking with the devil,
who, though unseen, was ever at his elbow. Now and then he
was seen pulling about the bay alone, in his skiff, in dark
weather, or at the approach of night-fall; nobody could telJ
why, unless on an errand to invite more guests from the gal
lows. Indeed it was affirmed that the Wild Goose still con
tinued to be a house of entertainment for such guests, and that
on stormy nights, the blue chamber was occasionally illumi
nated, and sounds of diabolical merriment were overheard,
mingling with the howling of the tempest. Some treated
these as idle stories, until on one such night, it was about the
time of the equinox, there was a horrible uproar in the Wild
Goose, that could not be mistaken. It was not so much the
sound of revelry, however, as strife, with two or three piercing
shrieks, that pervaded every part of the village. Nevertheless,
no one thought of hastening to the spot. On the contrary, the
honest burghers of Communipaw drew their night-caps over
their ears, and buried their heads under the bed-clothes, at the
thoughts of Vanderscamp and his gallows companions.
The next morning, some of the bolder and more curious
undertook to reconnoitre. All was quiet and lifeless at the
Wild Goose. The door yawned wide open, and had evidently
been open all night, for the storm had beaten into the house.
Gathering more courage from the silence and apparent deser
tion, they gradually ventured over the threshold. The house
had indeed the air of having been possessed by devils. Every
thing was topsy-turvy; trunks had been broken open, and
chests of drawers and corner cupboards turned inside out, as
in a time of general sack and pillage ; but the most wof ul sight
was the widow of Yan Yost Vanderscamp, extended a corpse
on the floor of the blue-chamber, with the marks of a deadly
gripe on the wind-pipe.
All now was conjecture and dismay at Communipaw ; and
the disappearance of old Pluto, who was no where to be found,
gave rise to all kinds of wild surmises. Some suggested that
the negro had betrayed the house to some of Vanderscamp'a
bucaniering associates, and that they had decamped together
with the booty ; others surmised that the negro was nothing
more nor less than a devil incarnate, who had now accom
plished his ends, and made off with his dues.
THE BERMUDAS. 109
Events, however, vindicated the negro from this last imputa
tion. His skiff was picked up, drifting about the bay, bottom
upward, as if wrecked in a tempest ; and his body was found,
shortly afterward, by some Communipaw fishermen, stranded
among the rocks of Gibbet-Island, near the foot of the pirates'
gallows. The fishermen shook their heads, and observed that
old Pluto had ventured once too often to invite Guests from
Gibbet-Island.
THE BERMUDAS.
A SHAKSPERIAN RESEARCH: BY THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH
BOOK.
"WHO did not think, till within these foure yeares, but that these islands had been
rather a habitation for Divells, than fit for men to dwell in? Who did not hate the
name, when nee was on land, and shun the place when he was on the seas? But
behold the misprision and conceits of the world ! For true and large experience
hath now told us, it is one of the sweetest paradises that be upon earth." "A
PLAINK DESCRIPT. OF THE BARMVDAS:" 1613.
IN the course of a voyage home from England, our ship had
been struggling, for two or three weeks, with perverse head
winds, and a stormy sea. It was in the month of May, yet
the weather had at times a wintry sharpness, and it was ap
prehended that we were in the neighborhood of floating islands
of ice, which at that season of the year drift out of the Gulf of
Saint Lawrence, and sometimes occasion the wreck of noble
ships.
Wearied out by the continued opposition of the elements,
our captain at length bore away to the south, in hopes of
catching the expiring breath of the trade-winds, and making
what is called the southern passage. A few days wrought, as
it were, a magical "sea change" in everything around us. We
seemed to emerge into a different world. The late dark and
angry sea, lashed up into roaring and swashing surges, became
calm and sunny ; the rude winds died away ; and gradually a
light breeze sprang up directly aft, filling out every sail, and
wafting us smoothly along on an even keel. The air softened
into a bland and delightful temperature. Dolphins began to
play about us ; the nautilus came floating by, like a fairy ship,
its mimic sail and rainbow tints ; and flying-fish, from
110 WOLFERT'8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
time to time, made their short excursive flights, and occasion
ally fell upon the deck. The cloaks and overcoats in which we
had hitherto wrapped ourselves, and moped about the vessel,
were thrown aside ; for a summer warmth had succeeded to
the late wintry chills. Sails were stretched as awnings over
the quarter-deck, to protect us from the mid-day sun. Under
these we lounged away the day, in luxurious indolence, musing,
with half-shut eyes, upon the quiet ocean. The night was
scarcely less beautiful than the day. The rising moon sent a
quivering column of silver along the undulating surface of the
deep, and, gradually climbing the heaven, lit up our towering
top-sails and swelling main-sails, and spread a pale, mysterious
light around. As our ship made her whispering way through
this dreamy world of waters, every boisterous sound on board
was charmed to silence ; and the low whistle, or drowsy song
of a sailor from the forecastle, or the tinkling of a guitar, and
the soft warbling of a female voice from the quarter-deck,
seemed to derive a witching melody from the scene and hour.
I was reminded of Oberon's exquisite description of music and
moonlight on the ocean :
" Thou rememberest
Since once I sat upon a promontory,
And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back,
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath.
That the rude sea grew civil at her song?
And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
To hear the sea-maid's music."
Indeed, I was in the very mood to conjure up all the ima
ginary beings with which poetry has peopled old ocean, and
almost ready to fancy I heard the distant song of the mermaid,
or the mellow shell of the triton, and to picture to myself Nep
tune and Amphitrite with all their pageant sweeping along the
dim horizon.
A day or two of such fanciful voyaging brought us in sight
of the Bermudas, which first looked like mere summer clouds,
peering above the quiet ocean. All day we glided along in
sight of them, with just wind enough to fill our sails; and
never did land appear more lovely. They were clad in emerald
verdure, beneath the serenest of skies: not an angry wave
broke upon their quiet shores, and small fishing craft, riding
on the crystal waves, seemed as if hung in air. It was such a
scene that Fletcher pictured to himself, when he extolled the
halcyon lot of the fisherman :
THE BERMUDAS. HI
Ah! would them knewest how much it better were
To bide among the simple fisher-swains:
No shrieking owl, no night-crow lodgeth here,
Nor is our simple pleasure mixed with pains.
Our sports begin with the beginning year;
In calms, to pull the leaping fish to land,
In roughs, to sing and dance along the yellow sand.
In contemplating these beautiful islands, and the peaceful
sea around them, I could hardly realize that these were the
" still vexed Bermoothes" of Shakspeare, once the dread of
mariners, and infamous in the narratives of the early dis
coverers, for the dangers and disasters which beset them.
Such, however, was the case; and the islands derived addi
tional interest in my eyes, from fancying that I could trace in
their early history, and in the superstitious notions connected
with them, some of the elements of Shakspeare's wild and
beautiful drama of the Tempest. I shall take the liberty of
citing a few historical facts, in support of this idea, which may
claim some additional attention from the American reader, as
being connected with the first settlement of Virginia.
At the time when Shakspeare was in the fulness of his
talent, and seizing upon every thing that could furnish aliment
to his imagination, the colonization of Virginia was a favorite
object of enterprise among people of condition in England, and
several of the courtiers of the court of Queen Elizabeth were
personally engaged in it. In the year 1609 a noble armament
of nine ships and five hundred men sailed for the relief of the
colony. It was commanded by Sir George Somers, as admiral,
a gallant and generous gentleman, above sixty years of age,
and possessed of an ample fortune, yet still bent upon hardy
enterprise, and ambitious of signalizing himself in the service
of his country.
On board of his flag-ship, the Sea- Vulture, sailed also Sir
Thomas Gates, lieutenant-general of the colony. The voyage
was long and boisterous. On the twenty-fifth of July, the
admiral's ship was separated from the rest, in a hurricane.
For several days she was driven about at the mercy of the ele
ments, and so strained and racked, that her seams yawned
open, and her hold was half filled with water. The storm
subsided, but left her a mere foundering wreck. The crew
stood in the hold to their waists in water, vainly endeavor
ing to bail her with kettles, buckets, and other vessels. The
leaks rapidly gained on them, while their strength was as
rapidly declining. They lost all hope of keeping the ship
112 WOLFKRl'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
afloat, until they should reach the American coast ; and wearied
with fruitless toil, determined, in their despair, to give up all
farther attempt, shut down the hatches, and abandon them
selves to Providence. Some, who had spirituous liquors, or
' ' comf ortable waters, " as the old record quaintly terms thorn,
brought them forth, and shared them with their comrades,
and they all drank a sad farewell to one another, as men who
were soon to part company in this world.
In this moment of extremity, the worthy admiral, who kept
sleepless watch from the high stern of the vessel, gave the
thrilling cry of "land!" All rushed on deck, in a frenzy of
joy, and nothing now was to be seen or heard on board, but
the transports of men who felt as if rescued from the grave.
It is true the land in sight would not, in ordinary circum
stances, have inspired much self-gratulation. It could be
nothing else but the group of islands called after their dis
coverer, one Juan Bermudas, a Spaniard, but stigmatized
among the mariners of those days as "the islands of devils!"
"For the islands of the Bermudas," says the old narrative of
this voyage, ' ' as every man knoweth that hath heard or read
of them, were never inhabited by any Christian or heathen
people, but were ever esteemed and reputed a most prodigious
and inchanted place, affording nothing but gusts, stormes, and
foul weather, which made every navigator and mariner to
avoide them, as Scylla and Charybdis, or as they would shun
the Divell himself."*
Sir George Somers and his tempest-tossed comrades, how
ever, hailed them with rapture, as if they had been a terres
trial paradise. Every sail was spread, and every exertion
made to urge the foundering ship to land. Before long, she
struck upon a rock. Fortunately, the late rtormy winds had
subsided, and there was no surf. A swelling wave lifted her
from off the rock, and bore her to another ; and thus she was
borne on from rock to rock, until she remained wedged be
tween two, as firmly as if set upon the stocks. The boats were
immediately lowered, and, though the shore was above a mile
distant, the whole crew were landed in safety.
Every one had now his task assigned him. Some made all
haste to unload the ship, before she should go to pieces ; some
constructed wigwams of palmetto leaves, and others ranged
the island in quest of wood and water. To their surprise and
* "A Plaine D&orfption of the Burmudas."
TEE BERMUDAS. 113
joy, they found it far different from the desolate and frightful
place they had been taught, by seamen's stories, to expect. It
was well- wooded and fertile ; there were birds of various kinds,
and herds of swine roaming about, the progeny of a number
that had swam ashore, in former years, from a Spanish wreck.
The island abounded with turtle, and great quantities of their
eggs were to be found among the rocks. The bays and inlets
were full of fish; so tame, that if any one stepped into the
water, they would throng around him. Sir George Somers, in
a little while, caught enough with hook and line to furnish a
meal to his whole ship's company. Some of them were so
large, that two were as much as a man could carry. Craw
fish, also, were taken in abundance. The air was soft and
salubrious, and the sky beautifully serene. Waller, in his
"Summer Islands," has given us a faithful picture of the
climate :
" For the kind spring, (which but salutes us here,)
Inhabits these, and courts them all the year:
Ripe fruits and blossoms on the same trees live;
At once they promise, and at once they give:
So sweet the air, so moderate the clime,
None sickly lives, or dies before his time.
Heaven sure has kept this spot of earth uncursed,
To shew how all things were created first."
We may imagine the feelings of the shipwrecked mariners,
on finding themselves cast by stormy seas upon so happy a
coast ; where abundance was to be had without labor ; where
what in other climes constituted the costly luxuries of the rich,
were within every man's reach ; and where life promised to be
a mere holiday. Many of the common sailors, especially, de
clared they desired no better lot than to pass the rest of their
iives on this favored island.
The commanders, however, were not so ready to console
themselves with mere physical comforts, for the severance
from the enjoyment of cultivated life, and all the objects of
honorable ambition. Despairing of the arrival of any chance
ship on these shunned and dreaded islands, they fitted out the
long-boat, making a deck of the ship's hatches, and having
manned her with eight picked men, despatched her, under the
command of an able and hardy mariner, named Raven, to
proceed to Virginia, and procure shipping to be sent to their
relief.
While waiting in anxious idleness for the arrival of the
114 WOLFEETS 1100ST AND MISCELLANIES.
iooked-for aid, dissensions arose between Sir George Somers
and Sir Thomas Gates, originating, very probably, in jealous}
of the lead which the nautical experience and professional]
station of the admiral gave him in the present emergency.
Each commander, of course, had his adherents : these dissen
sions ripened into a complete schism ; and this handful of ship
wrecked men, thus thrown together, on an uninhabited island,
separated into two parties, and lived asunder in bitter feud, as
men rendered fickle by prosperity instead of being brought
into brotherhood by a common calamity.
Weeks and months elapsed, without bringing the Iooked-for
aid from Virginia, though that colony was within but a few days'
sail. Fears were now entertained that the long-boat had been
either swallowed up in the sea, or wrecked on some savage
coast ; one or other of which most probably was the case, as
nothing was ever heard of Raven and his comrades.
Each party now set to work to build a vessel for itself out of
the cedar with which the island abounded. The wreck of the
Sea- Vulture furnished rigging, and various other articles ; but
they had^no iron for bolts, and other fastenings ; and for want
of pitch and tar, they payed the seams of their vessels with
lime and turtle's oil, which soon dried, and became as hard as
stone.
On the tenth of May, 1610, they set sail, having been about
nine months on the island. They reached Virginia without
farther accident, but found the colony in great distress for pro
visions. The account they gave of the abundance that reigned
in the Bermudas, and especially of the herds of swine that
roamed the island, determined Lord Delaware, the governor
of Virginia, to send thither for supplies. Sir George Somers,
with his wonted promptness and generosity, offered to under
take what was still considered a dangerous voyage. Accord-
jingly, on the nineteenth of June, he set sail, in his own cedar
vessel of thirty tons, accompanied by another small vessel,
commanded by Captain Argall.
The gallant Somers was doomed again to be tempest-tossed.
His companion vessel was soon driven back to port, but he
kept the sea; and, as usual, remained at his post on deck, in
all weathers. His voyage was long and boisterous, and the
fatigues and exposures which he underwent, were too much
for a frame impaired by age, and by previous hardships. He
arrived at Bermudas completely exhausted and broken down.
His nephew, Captain Mathew Somers, attended him in hia
TEE BERMUDAS. 115
illness with affectionate assiduity. Finding his end approach
ing, the veteran called his men together, and exhorted them to
be true to the interests of Virginia ; to procure provisions with
all possible despatch, and hasten back to the relief of the
colony.
With this dying charge, he gave up the ghost, leaving ms
nephew and crew overwhelmed with grief and consternation.
Their first thought was to pay honor to his remains. Opening
the body, they took out the heart and entrails, and buried them,
erecting a cross over the grave. They then embalmed the
body, and set sail with it for England; thus, while paying
empty honors to their deceased commander, neglecting his ear
nest wish and dying injunction, that they should return with
relief to Virginia.
The little bark arrived safely at Whitechurch, in Dorsetshire,
with its melancholy freight. The body of the worthy Somers
was interred with the military honors due to a brave soldier,
and many volleys were fired over his grave. The Bermudas
have since received the name of the Somer Islands, as a tribute
to his memory.
The accounts given by Captain Mathew Somers and his crew
of the delightful climate, and the great beauty, fertility, and
abundance of these islands, excited the zeal of enthusiasts, and
the cupidity of speculators, and a plan was set on foot to colo
nize them. The Virginia company sold their right to the
islands to one hundred and twenty of their own members, who
erected themselves into a distinct corporation, under the name
of the " Somer Island Society ;" and Mr. Eichard More was sent
out, in 1612, as governor, with sixty men, to found a colony:
and this leads me to the second branch of this research.
THE THREE KINGS OF BERMUDA.
AND THEIR TREASURE OF AMBERGRIS.
AT the time that Sir George Somers was preparing to launch
his cedar-built bark, and sail for Virginia, there were three cul
prits among his men, who had been guilty of capital offences.
One of them was shot ; the others, named Christopher Carter
and Edward Waters, escaped. Waters, indeed, made a very
narrow escape, for he had actually been tied to a tree to be
executed, but cut the rope with a knife, which he had con-
116 WOLFER2 n S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
cealed about his person, and fled to the woods, where he was
joined by Carter. These two worthies kept themselves con
cealed in the secret parts of the island, until the departure of
the two vessels. When Sir George Somers revisited the
island, in quest of supplies for the Virginia colony, these cul
prits hovered about the landing-place, and succeeded in per
suading another seaman, named Edward Chard, to join them,
giving him the most seductive pictures of the ease and abun
dance in which they revelled.
When the bark that bore Sir George's body to England had
faded from the watery horizon, these three vagabonds walked
forth in their majesty and might, the lords and sole inhabi
tants of these islands. For a time their little commonwealth
went on prosperously and happily. They built a house, sowed
corn, and the seeds of various fruits; and having plenty of
hogs, wild fowl, and fish of all kinds, with turtle in abundance,
carried on their tripartite sovereignty with great harmony and
much feasting. All kingdoms, however, are doomed to revo
lution, convulsion, or decay ; and so it fared with the empire
of the three kings of Bermuda, albeit they were monarchs
without subjects. In an evil hour, in their search after turtle,
among the fissures of the rocks, they came upon a great treas
ure of ambergris, which had been cast on shore by the ocean.
Beside a number of pieces of smaller dimensions, there was one
great mass, the largest that had ever been known, weighing
eighty pounds, and which of itself, according to the market
value of ambergris in those days, was worth about nine or ten
thousand pounds 1
From that moment, the happiness and harmony of the three
kings of Bermuda were gone for ever. While poor devils, with
nothing to share but the common blessings of the island,
which administered to present enjoyment, but had nothing of
convertible value, they were loving and united : but here was
actual wealth, which would make them rich men, whenever
they could transport it to a market.
Adieu the delights of the island ! They now became flat and
insipid. Each pictured to himself the consequence he might
now aspire to, in civilized life, could he once get there with
this mass of ambergris. No longer a poor Jack Tar, frolicking
in the low taverns of Wapping, he might roll through London
in his coach, and perchance arrive, like Whittington, at the
dignity of Lord Mayor.
With riches come envy and coveiouaness, Each was now
THE BERMUDAS. 117
for assuming the supreme power, and getting the monopoly of
the ambergris. A civil war at length broke out : Chard and
"Waters defied each other to mortal combat, and the kingdom
of the Bermudas was on the point of being deluged with royal
blood. Fortunately, Carter took no part in the bloody feud.
Ambition might have made him view it with secret exultation ;
for if either or both of his brother potentates were slain in the
conflict, he would be a gainer in purse and ambergris. But he
dreaded to be left alone in this uninhabited island, and to find
himself the monarch of a solitude: so he secretly purloined
and hid the weapons of the belligerent rivals, who, having
no means of carrying on the war, gradually cooled down into
a sullen armistice.
The arrival of Governor More, with an overpowering force
of sixty men, put an end to the empire. He took possession of
the kingdom, in the name of the Somer Island Company, and
forthwith proceeded to make a settlement. The three kings
tacitly relinquished their sway, but stood up stoutly for
their treasure. It was determined, however, that they had
been fitted out at the expense, and employed in the service, of
the Virginia Company ; that they had found the ambergis
while in the service of that company, and on that company's
land ; that the ambergis, therefore, belonged to that company,
or rather to the Somer Island Company, in consequence of
their recent purchase of the island, and all their appurte
nances. Having thus legally established their right, and being
moreover able to back it by might, the company laid the lion's
paw upon the spoil; and nothing more remains on historic
record of the Three Kings of Bermuda, and their treasure of
ambergris.
THE reader will now determine whether I am more extrava
gant than most of the commentators on Shakspeare, in my
surmise that the story of Sir George Somers' shipwreck, and
the subsequent occurrences that took place on the uninhabited
island, may have furnished the bard with some of the elements
of his drama of the Tempest. The tidings of the shipwreck,
and of the incidents connected with it, reached England not
long before the production of this drama, and made a great
sensation there. A narrative of the whole matter, from which
most of the foregoing particulars are extracted, was published
at the time in London, in a pamphlet form, and could not fail
to fee eagerly perused bv ^lia^spe.?!]*^ ajid to make a vro<j
118 WOLFKRTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
impression on his fancy. His expression, in the Tempest, of
"the still vext Bermoothes," accords exactly with the storm-
beaten character of those islands. The enchantments, too,
with which he has clothed the island of Prospero, may they
not be traced to the wild and superstitious notions entertained
about the Bermudas? I have already cited two passages from
a pamphlet published at the time, showing that they were
esteemed "a most prodigious and inchantcd place," and the
' ' habitation of divells ;" and another pamphlet, published shortly
afterward, observes : ' ' And whereas it is reported that this land
of the Barmudas, with the islands about, (which are many, at
least a hundred,) are inchanted and kept with evil and wicked
spirits, it is a most idle and false report." *
The description, too, given in the same pamphlets, of the
real beauty and fertility of the Bermudas, and of their serene
and happy climate, so opposite to the dangerous and inhospi
table character with which they had been stigmatized, accords
with the eulogium of Sebastian on the island of Prospero:
" Though this island seem to be desert, uninhabitable, and almost inaccessible, It
must needs be of subtle, tender, and delicate temperance. The air breathes upon us
here most sweetly. Here is every thing advantageous to life. How lush and lusty
the grass looks ! how green !"
I think too, in the exulting consciousness of ease, security,
and abundance felt by the late tempest-tossed mariners, while
revelling in the plenteousness of the island, and their inclina
tion to remain there, released from the labors, the cares, and
the artificial restraints of civilized life, I can see something of
the golden commonwealth of honest Gonzalo :
" Had I plantation of this isle, my lord,
And were the king of it, what would I dot
I' the commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things: for no kind pf traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none:
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil:
No occupation; all men idle, all.
All things in common, nature should produce,
Without sweat or endeavor: Treason, felony,
Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine.
Would I not have ; but nature should bring forth,
Of its own kind, all foizon. all abundance,
To feed my innocent people."
* " Newea from the Barmudas;" 1812.
PELATO AND THE MERCHANTS DAUGHTER. H9
But above all, in the three fugitive vagabonds who remained
in possession of the island of Bermuda, on the departure of
their comrades, and in their squabbles about supremacy, on the
finding of their treasure, I see typified Sebastian, Trinculo, and
their worthy companion Caliban :
" Trinculo, the king and all our company being drowned, we will inherit here."
" Monster, I will kill this man ; his daughter and I will be king and queen, (save our
graces!) and Trinculo and thyself shall be viceroys."
I do not mean to hold up the incidents and characters in the
narrative and in the play as parallel, or as being strikingly
similar : neither would I insinuate that the narrative suggested
the play ; I would only suppose that Shakspeare, being occupied
about that time on the drama of the Tempest, the main story
of which, I believe, is of Italian origin, had many of the fanci
ful ideas of it suggested to his mind by the shipwreck of
Sir George Somers on the " still vext Bermothes," and by the
popular superstitions connected with these islands, and sud
denly put in circulation by that event.
PELAYO AND THE MEECHANT'S DAUGHTER.
BY THE AUTHOR OF THE SKETCH-BOOK.
IT is the common lamentation of Spanish historiographers,
that, for an obscure and melancholy space of time immediately
succeeding the conquest of their country by the Moslems, its
history is a mere wilderness of dubious facts, groundless
fables, and rash exaggerations. Learned men, in cells and
cloisters, have worn out their lives in vainly endeavoring to
connect incongruous events, and to account for startling
improbabilities, recorded of this period. The worthy Jesuit,
Padre Abarca, declares that, for more than forty years during
which he had been employed in theological controversies, he
had never found any so obscure and inexplicable as those
which rise out of this portion of Spanish history, and that the
only fruit of an indefatigable, prolix, and even prodigious
study of the subject, was a melancholy and mortifying state
of indecision.*
* PADRE PEDRO ABARCA, Anales de Aragon, Anti Regno, jj 2.
120 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
During this apocryphal period, flourished PELAYO, the deliv
erer of Spain, whose name, like that of William Wallace, will
ever be linked with the glory of his country, but linked, in like
manner, by a bond in which fact and fiction are inextricably
interwoven.
The quaint old chronicle of the Moor Rasis, which, though
wild and fanciful in the extreme, is frequently drawn upon for
early facts by Spanish historians, professes to give the birth,
parentage, and whole course of fortune of Pelayo, without the
least doubt or hesitation. It makes him a son of the Duke of
Cantabria, and descended, both by father and mother's side,
from the Gothic kings of Spain. I shall pass over the roman
tic story of his childhood, and shall content myself with a
scene of his youth, which was spent in a castle among the
Pyrenees, under the eye of his widowed and noble-minded
mother, who caused him to be instructed in everything
befitting a cavalier of gentle birth. While the sons of the
nobility were revelling amid the pleasures of a licentious
court, and sunk in that vicious and effeminate indulgence
which led to the perdition of unhappy Spain, the youthful
Pelayo, in his rugged mountain school, was steeled to all kinds
of hardy exercise. A great part of his time was spent in hunt
ing the bears, the wild boars, and the wolves, with which the
Pyrenees abounded; and so purely and chastely was he
brought up, by his good lady mother, that, if the ancient
chronicle from which I draw my facts may be relied on, he
had attained his one-and-twentieth year, without having once
sighed for woman !
Nor were his hardy contests confined to the wild beasts of
the forest. Occasionally he had to contend with adversaries of
a more formidable character. The skirts and defiles of these
border mountains were often infested by marauders from the
Gallic plains of Gascony. The Gascons, says an old chronicler,
were a people who used smooth words when expedient, but
force when they had power, and were ready to lay their hands
on every thing they met. Though poor, they were proud ; for
there was not one who did not pride himself on being a hijo-
dalgo, or the son of somebody.
At the head of a band of these needy hijodalgos of Gascony,
was one Arnaud, a broken-down cavalier. He and four of his
followers were well armed and mounted ; the rest were a set of
scamper-grounds on foot, furnished with darts and javelins.
They were the terror of the border} here to-day and gone to-
PELATO ANU THE MERCHANTS DAUGHTER. 121
morrow ; sometimes in one pass, sometimes in another. They
would make sudden inroads into Spain, scour the roads, plun
der the country, and were over the mountains and far away
before a force could be collected to pursue them.
Now it happened one day, that a wealthy burgher of Bor
deaux, who was a merchant, trading with Biscay, set out on a
journey for that province. As he intended to sojourn there
for a season, he took with him his wife, who was a goodly
dame, and his daughter, a gentle damsel, of marriageable age,
and exceeding fair to look upon. He was attended by a trusty
clerk from his comptoir, and a man servant; while another
servant led a hackney, laden with bags of money, with which
he intended to purchase merchandise.
When the Gascons heard of this wealthy merchant and his
convoy passing through the mountains, they thanked their
stars, for they considered all peaceful men of traffic as lawful
spoil, sent by providence for the benefit of hidalgos like them
selves, of valor and gentle blood, who lived by the sword.
Placing themselves in ambush, in a lonely defile, by which the
travellers had to pass, they silently awaited their coming. In
a little while they beheld them approaching. The merchant
was a fair, portly man, in a buff surcoat and velvet cap. His
looks bespoke the good cheer of his native city, and he was
mounted on a stately, well-fed steed, while his wife and daugh
ter paced gently on palfreys by his side.
The travellers had advanced some distance in the defile,
when the Bandoleros rushed forth and assailed them. The
merchant, though but little used to the exercise of arms, and
unwieldy in his form, yet made valiant defence, having his
wife and daughter and money-bags at hazard. He was wounded
in two places, and overpowered ; one of his servants was slain,
the other took to flight.
The freebooters then began to ransack for spoil, but were dis
appointed at not finding the wealth they had expected. Put
ting their swords to the breast of the trembling merchant, they
demanded where he had concealed his treasure, and learned
from him of the hackney that was following, laden with money.
Overjoyed at this intelligence, they bound their captives to
trees, and awaited the arrival of the golden spoil.
On this same day, Pelayo was out with his huntsmen among
the mountains, and had taken his stand on a rock, at a narrow
pass, to await the sallying forth of a wild boar. Close by him
was a page, conducting a horse, and, at the saddle-bow hungj
122 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
his armor, for he was always prepared for fight among these
border mountains. While thus posted, the servant of the mer
chant came flying from the robbers. On beholding Pelayo, he
fell on his knees, and implored his life, for he supposed him to
be one of the band. It was some time before he could be re
lieved from his terror, and made to tell his story. When
Pelayo heard of the robbers, he concluded they were the crew
of Gascon hidalgos, upon the scamper. Taking his armor from
the page, he put on his helmet, slung his buckler round his
neck, took lance in hand, and mounting his steed, compelled
the trembling servant to guide him to the scene of action. At
the same time he ordered the page to seek his huntsmen, and
summon them to his assistance.
When the robbers saw Pelayo advancing through the forest,
with a single attendant on foot, and beheld his rich armor
sparkling in the sun, they thought a new prize had fallen into
their hands, and Arnaud and two of his companions, mounting
their horses, advanced to meet him. As they approached,
Pelayo stationed himself in a narrow pass between two rocks,
where he could only be assailed in front, and bracing his buck
ler, and lowering his lance, awaited their coming.
"Who and what are ye," cried he, "and what seek ye in this
land?"
"We are huntsmen," replied Arnaud, "and lo! our game
runs into our toils !"
"By my faith," replied Pelayo, "thou wilt find the game
more readily roused than taken : have at thee for a villain !"
So saying, he put spurs to his horse, and ran full speed upon
him. The Gascon, not expecting so sudden an attack from a
single horseman, was taken by surprise. He hastily couched
his lance, but it merely glanced on the shield of Pelayo, who
sent his own through the middle of his breast, and threw him
out of his saddle to the earth. One of the other robbers made
at Pelayo, and wounded him slightly in the side, but received
a blow from the sword of the latter, which cleft his skull-cap,
and sank into his brain. His companion, seeing him fall, put
spurs to his steed, and galloped off through the forest.
Beholding several other robbers on foot coming up, Pelayo
returned to his station between the rocks, where he was as
sailed by them all at once. He received two of their darts on
his buckler, a javelin razed his cuirass, and glancing down,
wounded his horse. Pelayo then rushed forth, and struck one
of the robbers dead: the others, beholding several huntsmen
PELATO AND THE MERCHANTS DAUGHTER. 123
advancing, took to flight, but were pursued, and several of them
taken.
The good merchant of Bordeaux and his family beheld this
scene with trembling and amazement, for never had they looked
upon such feats of arms. They considered Don Pelayo as a
leader of some rival band of robbers ; and when the bonds were
loosed by which they were tied to the trees, they fell at his feet
and implored mercy. The females were soonest undeceived,
especially the daughter ; for the damsel was struck with the'
noble countenance and gentle demeanor of Pelayo, and said to
herself : ' ' Surely nothing evil can dwell in so goodly and gra
cious a form."
Pelayo now sounded his horn, which echoed from rock to
rock, and was answered by shouts and horns from, various
parts of the mountains. The merchant's heart misgave him at
these signals, and especially when he beheld more than forty
men gathering from glen and thicket. They were clad in hunt
ers' dresses, and armed with boar-spears, darts, and hunting-
swords, and many of them led hounds in long leashes. All
this was a new and wild scene to the astonished merchant ; nor
were his fears abated, when he saw his servant approaching
with the hackney, laden with money-bags; "for of a cer
tainty," said he to himself, "this will be too tempting a spoil
for these wild hunters of the mountains."
Pelayo, however, took no more notice of the gold than if it
had been so much dross ; at which the honest burgher mar
velled exceedingly. He ordered that the wounds of the mer
chant should be dressed, and his own examined. On taking
off his cuirass, his wound was found to be but slight ; but his
men were so exasperated at seeing his blood, that they would
have put the captive robbers to instant death, had he not for
bidden them to do them any harm.
The huntsmen now made a great fire at the foot of a tree,
and bringing a boar which they had killed, cut off portions
and roasted them, or broiled them on the coals. Then draw
ing forth loaves of bread from their wallets, they devoured,
their food half raw, with the hungry relish of huntsmen and
mountaineers. The merchant, his wife, and daughter, looked
at all this, and wondered, for they had never beheld so savage
a repast.
Pelayo then inquired of them if they did not desire to eat ;
they were too much in awe of him to decline, though they felt
a loathing at the thought of partaking of this hunter's fare;
124 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
but he ordered a linen cloth to be spread under the shade of a
great oak, on the grassy margin of a clear running stream ;
and to their astonishment, they were served, not with the flesh
of the boar, but with dainty cheer, such as the merchant had
scarcely hoped to find out of the walls of his native city of
Bordeaux.
The good burgher was of a community renowned for gas
tronomic prowess: his fears having subsided, his appetite
was now awakened, and he addressed himself manfully to
the viands that were set before him. His daughter, how
ever, could not eat: her eyes were ever and anon stealing to
gaze on Pelayo, whom she regarded with gratitude for his pro
tection, and admiration for his valor; and now that he had
laid aside his helmet, and she beheld his lofty countenance,
glowing with manly beauty, she thought him something more
than mortal. The heart ef the gentle donzella, says the ancient
chronicler, was kind and yielding; and had Pelayo thought fit
to ask the greatest boon that love and beauty could bestow
doubtless meaning her fair hand she could not have had the
cruelty to say him nay. Pelayo, however, had no such
thoughts : the love of woman had never yet entered his heart ;
and though he regarded the damsel as the fairest maiden he
had ever beheld, her beauty caused no perturbation in his
breast.
When the repast was over, Pelayo offered to conduct the
merchant and his family through the defiles of the mountains,
lest they should be molested by any of the scattered band of
robbers. The bodies of the slain marauders were buried, and
the corpse of the servant was laid upon one of the horses cap
tured in the battle. Having formed their cavalcade, they pur
sued their way slowly up one of the steep and winding passes
of the Pyrenees.
Toward sunset, they arrived at the dwelling of a holy hermit.
It was hewn out of the li ving rock ; there was a cross over the
door, and before it was a great spreading oak, with a sweet
spring of water at its foot. The body of the faithful servant
who had fallen in the defence of his lord, was buried close by
the wall of this sacred retreat, and the hermit promised to per
form masses for the repose of his soul. Then Pelayo obtained
from the holy father consent that the merchant's wife and
daughter should pass the night within his cell ; and the hermit
made beds of moss for them, and gave them his benediction ;
but the damsel found little rest, so much were her thoughts
PELATO AND THE MERCHANT'S DAUGHTER. 125
occupied by the youthful champion who had rescued her from
death or dishonor.
Pelayo, however, was visited by no such wandering of the
mind ; but, wrapping himself in his mantle, slept soundly by
the fountain under the tree. At midnight, when every thing
was buried in deep repose, he was awakened from his sleep
and beheld the hermit before him, with the beams of the moon
shining upon his silver hair and beard.
"This is no time," said the latter, "to be sleeping; arise and
listen to my words, and hear of the great work for which thou
art chosen !"
Then Pelayo arose and seated himself on a rock, and the
hermit continued his discourse.
" Behold," said he, " the ruin of Spain is at hand ! It will be
delivered into the hands of strangers, and will become a prey
to the spoiler. Its children will be slain or carried into capti
vity ; or such as may escape these evils, will harbor with the
beasts of the forest or the eagles of the mountain. The thorn
and bramble will spring up where now are seen the corn
field, the vine, and the olive ; and hungry wolves will roam in
place of peaceful flocks and herds. But thou, my son ! tarry
not thou to see these things, for thou canst not prevent them.
Depart on a pilgrimage to the sepulchre of our blessed Lord in
Palestine ; purify thyself by prayer ; enroll thyself in the order
of chivalry, and prepare for the great work of the redemption
of thy country ; for to thee it will be given to raise it from the
depth of its affliction."
Pelayo would have inquired farther into the evils thus fore
told, but the hermit rebuked his curiosity.
" Seek not to know more," said he, "than heaven i& pleased
to reveal. Clouds and darkness cover its designs, and pro
phecy is never permitted to lift up but in part the veil that
rests upon the future."
The hermit ceased to speak, and Pelayo laid himself down
again to take repose, but sleep was a stranger to his eyes.
When the first rays of the rising sun shone upon the tops of
the mountains, the travellers assembled round the fountain
beneath the tree and made their morning's repast. Then,
having received the benediction of the hermit, they departed
in the freshness of the day, and descended along the hollow
defiles leading into the interior of Spain. The good merchant
was refreshed by sleep and by his morning's meal ; and when
he beheld his wife and daugliter thus secure by his side, and
126 WOLFJSKT'8 BOOST AND MISCELLANIES.
the hackney laden with his treasure close behind him, his
heart was light in his bosom, and he carolled a chanson as he
went, and the woodlands echoed to his song. But Pelayo rode
in silence, for he revolved in his mind the portentous words of
the hermit ; and the daughter of the merchant ever and anon
stole looks at him full of tenderness and admiration, and deep
sighs betrayed the agitation of her bosom.
At length they came to the foot of the mountains, where the
forests and the rocks terminated, and an open and secure
country lay before the travellers. Here they halted, for their
roads were widely different. When they came to part, the
merchant and his wife were loud in thanks and benedictions,
and the good burgher would fain have given Pelayo the largest
of his sacks of gold ; but the young man put it aside with a
smile. " Silver and gold," said he, " need I not, but if I have
deserved aught at thy hands, give me thy prayers, for the
prayers of a good man are above all price."
In the mean time the daughter had spoken never a word.
At length she raised her eyes, which were filled with tears, and
looked timidly at Pelayo, and her bosom throbbed ; and after a
violent struggle between strong affection and virgin modesty,
her heart relieved itself by words.
"Senor," said she, "I know that I am unworthy of the
notice of so noble a cavalier ; but suffer me to place this ring
upon a finger of that hand which has so bravely rescued us
from death; and when you regard it, you may consider it
as a memorial of your own valor, and not of one who is too
humble to be remembered by you."
With these words, she drew a ring from her finger and put
it upon the finger of Pelayo ; and having done this, she blushed
and trembled at her own boldness, and stood as one abashed,
with her eyes cast down upon the earth.
Pelayo was moved at the words of the simple maiden, and at
the touch of her fair hand, and at her beauty, as she stood thus
trembling and in tears before him ; but as yet he knew nothing
of woman, and his heart was free from the snares of love.
"Amiga," (friend,) said he, "I accept thy present, and will
wear it in remembrance of thy goodness ;" so saying, he kissed
her on the cheek.
The damsel was cheered by these words, and hoped that she
had awakened some tenderness in his bosom; but it was no
such thing, says the grave old chronicler, for his heart was
THE KNIGIIT OF MALTA. 127
devoted to higher and more sacred matters; yet certain it is,
thac he always guarded well that ring.
When they parted, Pelayo remained with his huntsmen on a
cliff, watching that no evil befell them, until they were far
beyond the skirts of the mountain; and the damsel often
turned to look at him, until she could no longer discern him,
for the distance and the tears that dimmed her eyes.
And for that he had accepted her ring, says the ancient
chronicler, she considered herself wedded to him in her heart,
and would never marry ; nor could she be brought to look with
eyes of affection upon any other man; but for the true love
which she bore Pelayo, she lived and died a virgin. And she
composed a book which treated of love and chivalry, and the
temptations of this mortal life; and one part discoursed of
celestial matters, and it was called ' ' The Contemplations of
Love ;" because at the time she wrote it, she thought of Pelayo,
and of his having accepted her jewel and called her by the
gentle appellation of "Amiga." And often thinking of him in
tender sadness, and of her never having beheld him more, she
would take the book and would read it as if in his stead ; and
while she repeated the words of love which it contained, she
would endeavor to fancy them uttered by Pelayo, and that he
stood before her.
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER
SlR: In the course of a tour which I made in Sicily, in the
days of my juvenility, I passed some little time at the ancient
city of Catania, at the foot of Mount JEtna. Here I became
acquainted with the Chevalier L , an old Knight of Malta.
It was not many years after the tune that Napoleon had dis
lodged the knights from their island, and he still wore the
insignia of his order. He was not, however, one of those
reliques of that once chivalrous body, who had been described
as "a few worn-out old men, creeping about certain parts of
Europe, with the Maltese cross on their breasts ;" on the contrary,
though advanced in lif e, his form was still light and vigorous ;
he had a pale, thin, intellectual visage, with a high forehead,
and a bright, visionary eye. He seemed to take a fancy to me,
128 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
as I certainly did to him, and we soon became intimate. 7
visited him occasionally, at his apartments, in the wing of an
old palace, looking toward Mount ^Etna. He was an antiquary,
a virtuoso, and a connoisseur. His rooms were decorated with
mutilated statues, dug up from Grecian and Roman ruins ; old
vases, lachrymals, and sepulchral lamps. He had astronomical
and chemical instruments, and black-letter books, in various
languages. I found that he had dipped a little hi chimerical
studies, and had a hankering after astrology and alchymy.
He affected to behove in dreams and visions, and delighted in
the fanciful Rosicrucian doctrines. I cannot persuade myself,
however, that he really believed in all these : I rather think he
loved to let his imagination carry him away into the boundless
fairy land which they unfolded.
In company with the chevalier, I took several excursions oi
horseback about the environs of Catania, and the picturesque
skirts of Mount .JStna. One of these led through a village,
which had sprung up on the very tract of an ancient eruption,
the houses being built of lava. At one time we passed, for
some distance, along a narrow lane, between two high dead
convent walls. It was a cut-throat-looking place, in a country
where assassinations are frequent; and just about midway
through it, we observed blood upon the pavement and the
walls, as if a murder had actually been committed there.
The chevalier spurred on his horse, until he had extricated
himself completely from this suspicious neighborhood. He
then observed, that it reminded him of a similar blind alley in
Malta, infamous on account of the many assassinations that
had taken place there ; concerning one of which, he related a
long and tragical story, that lasted until we reached Catania.
It involved various circumstances of a wild and supernatural
character, but which he assured me were handed down in
tradition, and generally credited by the old inhabitants of
Malta.
As I like to pick up strange stories, and as I was particularly
struck with several parts of this, I made a minute of it, on my
return to my lodgings. The memorandum was lost, with
several others of my travelling papers, and the story had faded
from my mind, when recently, in perusing a French memoir,
I came suddenly upon it, dressed up, it is true, in a very
different manner, but agreeing hi the leading facts, and given
upon the word of that famous adventurer, the Count Cagliostro,
I have amused myself, during a snowy day in the country,
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 129
by rendering it roughly into English, for the entertainment of
a youthful circle round the Christmas fire. It was well received
by my auditors, who, however, are rather easily pleased. One
proof of its merits is that it sent some of the youngest of them
quaking to their beds, and gave them very fearful dreams.
Hoping that it may have the same effect upon your ghost-
hunting readers, I offer it, Mr. Editor, for insertion in your
Magazine. I would observe, that wherever I have modified
the French version of the story, it has been in conformity to
some recollection of the narrative of my friend, the Knight of
Malta.
Your obt. servt.,
GEOFFREY CRAYON.
THE GRAND PRIOR OF MINORCA.
A VERITABLE GHOST STORY.
" KEEP my wits, heaven ! They say spirits appear
To melancholy minds, and the graves open !" FLETCHER.
ABOUT the middle of the last century, while the Knights of
Saint John of Jerusalem still maintained something of their
ancient state and sway in the Island of Malta, a tragical event
took place there, which is the groundwork of the following
narrative.
It m ^y be as well to premise, that at the time we are treating
of, the order of Saint John of Jerusalem, grown excessively
wealthy, had degenerated from its originally devout and war
like character. Instead of being a hardy body of "monk-
knights," sworn soldiers of the cross, fighting the Paynim in
the Holy Land, or scouring the Mediterranean, and scourging
the Barbary coasts with their galleys, or feeding the poor, and
attending upon the sick at their hospitals, they led a life of
luxury and libertinism, and were to be found in the most
voluptuous courts of Europe. The order, in fact, had become
a mode of providing for the needy branches of the Catholic
aristocracy of Europe. "A commandery," we are told, was a
splendid provision for a younger brother; and men of rank,
however dissolute, provided they belonged to the highest aristo
cracy, became Knights of Malta, just as they did bishops, or
colonels of regiments, or court chamberlains. After a brief
residence at Malta, the knights passed the rest of their time in
130 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
their own countries, or only made a visit now and then to the
island. While there, having but little military duty to per
form, they beguiled their idleness by paying attentions to the
fair.
There was one circle of fjociety, however, into which they
could not obtain currency. This was composed of a few fami
lies of the old Maltese nobility, natives of the island. These
families, not being permitted to enroll any of their members in
the order, affected to hold no intercourse with its chevaliers ;
admitting none into their exclusive coteries but the Grand
Master, whom they acknowledged as then* sovereign, and the
members of the chapter which composed his council.
To indemnify themselves for this exclusion, the chevaliers
carried their gallantries into the next class of society, composed
of those who held civil, administrative, and judicial situations.
The ladies of this class were called honorate, or honorables, to
distinguish them from the inferior orders; and among them
were many of superior grace, beauty, and fascination.
Even in this more hospitable class, the chevaliers were not
all equally favored. Those of Germany had the decided pre
ference, owing to their fair and fresh complexions, and the
kindliness of their manners: next to these came the Spanish
cavaliers, on account of their profound and courteous devotion,
and most discreet secrecy. Singular as it may seem, the che
valiers of France fared the worst. The Maltese ladies dreaded
their volatility, and their proneness to boast of then- amours,
and shunned all entanglement with them. They were forced,
therefore, to content themselves with conquests among females
of the lower orders. They revenged themselves, after the gay
French manner, by making the "honorate" the objects of all
kinds of jests and mystifications ; by prying into their tender
affairs with the more favored chevaliers, and making them the
theme of song and epigram.
About this time, a French vessel arrived at Malta, bringing
out a distinguished personage of the order of Saint John of
Jerusalem, the Commander de Foulquerre, who came to solicit
the post of commander-in-chief of the galleys. He was descended
from an old and warrior line of French nobility, his ancestors
having long been seneschals of Poitou, and claiming descent
from the first counts of Angouleme.
The arrival of the commander caused a little uneasiness
among the peaceably inclined, for he bore the character, in the
island, of being fiery, arrogant, and quarrelsome. He had
TEE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 131
already been three times at Malta, and on each visit had signal
ized himself by some rash and deadly affray.
As he was now thirty -five years of age, however, it; was hoped
that time might have taken off the fiery edge of his spirit, and
that he might prove more quiet and sedate than formerly.
The commander set up an establishment befitting his rank and
pretensions ; for he arrogated to himself an importance greater
even than that of the Grand Master. His house immediately
became the rallying place of all the young French chevaliers.
They informed him of all the slights they had experienced or
imagined, and indulged their petulant and satirical vein at the
expense of the honorate and their admirers. The chevaliers of
other nations soon found the topics and tone of conversation at
the commander's irksome and offensive, and gradually ceased
to visit there. The commander remained the head of a national
clique, who looked up to him as their model. If he was not as
boisterous and quarrelsome as formerly, he had become haughty
and overbearing. He was fond of talking over his past affairs
of punctilio and bloody duel. When walking the streets, he
was generally attended by a ruffling train of young French
cavaliers, who caught his own air of assumption and bravado.
These he would conduct to the scenes of his deadly encounters,
point out the very spot where each fatal lunge had been given,
and dwell vaingloriously on every particular.
Unde" his tuition, the young French chevaliers began to add
bluster and arrogance to their former petulance and levity;
they fired up on the most trivial occasions, particularly with
those who had been most successful with the fair ; and would
put on the most intolerable drawcansir airs. The other che
valiers conducted themselves with all possible forbearance and
reserve ; but they saw it would be impossible to keep on long,
in this manner, without coming to an open rupture.
Among the Spanish cavaliers was one named Don Luis de
Lima Vasconcellos. He was distantly related to the Grand
Master; and had been enrolled at an early a^e among his
pages, but had been rapidly promoted by him, until, at the age
of twenty-six, he had been given the richest Spanish comman-
dery in the order. He had, moreover, been fortunate with the
fair, with one of whom, the most beautiful honorata of Malta,
he had long- maintained the most tender correspondence.
The character, rank, and connexions of Don Luis put him
on a par with the imperious Commander de Foulquerre, and
pointed him out as a leader and champion to his countrymen.
132 WOLFERT'S ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
The Spanish chevaliers repaired to him, therefore, in a body ;
represented all the grievances they had sustained, and the
evils they apprehended, and urged him to use his influence
with the commander and his adherents to put a stop to the
growing abuses.
Don Luis was gratified by this mark of confidence and esteem
on the part of his countrymen, and promised to have an inter- ^
view with the Commander de Foulquerre on the subject. He
resolved to conduct himself with the utmost caution and deli
cacy on the occasion ; to represent to the commander the evil
consequences which might result from the inconsiderate con
duct of the young French chevaliers, and to entreat him to
exert the great influence he so deservedly possessed over them,
to restrain their excesses. Don Luis was aware, however, of
the peril that attended any interview of the kind with this im
perious and fractious man, and apprehended, however it might
commence, that it would terminate in a duel. Still, it was
an affair of honor, in which Castilian dignity was concerned,
beside, he had a lurking disgust at the overbearing manners of
De Foulquerre, and perhaps had been somewhat offended by
certain intrusive attentions which he had presumed to pay to
the beautiful honorata.
It was now Holy Week; a time too sacred for worldly feuds
and passions, especially in a community under the dominion of
a religious order; it was agreed, therefore, that the dangerous
interview in question should not take place until after the
Easter holidays. It is probable, from subsequent circumstan
ces, that the Commander de Foulquerre had some information
of this arrangement among the Spanish chevaliers, and was
determined to be beforehand, and to mortify the pride of their
champion, who was thus preparing to read him a lecture. He
chose Good Friday for his purpose. On this sacred day, it is
customary in Catholic countries to make a tour of all the
churches, offering up prayers in each. In every Catholic
church, as is well known, there is a vessel of holy water near
the door. In this, every one, on entering, dips his fingers, and
makes therewith the sign of the cross on his forehead and
breast. An office of gallantry, among the young Spaniards, is
to stand near the door, dip their hands in the holy vessel, and
extend theta courteously and respectfully to any lady of their
acquaintance who may enter ; who thus receives the sacred
water at second hand, on the tips of her fingers, and proceeds
to cross herself, with all due decorum. The Spaniards, who
TEE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 133
tire the most jealous of lovers, are impatient when this piece of
devotional gallantry is proffered to the object of their affections
by any other hand: on Good Friday, therefore, when a lady
makes a tour of the churches, it is the usage among them for
the inamorato to follow her from church to church, so as to
present her the holy water at the door of each ; thus testifying
his own devotion, and at the same time preventing the officious
services of a rival.
On the day in question, Don Luis followed the beautiful
lionorata, to whom, as has already been observed, he had
long been devoted. At the very first church she visited, the
Commander de Foulquerre was stationed at the portal, with
several of the young French chevaliers about him. Before
Don Luis could offer her the holy water, he was anticipated by
the commander, who thrust himself between them, and, while
he performed the gallant office to the lady, rudely turned his
back upon her admirer, and trod upon his feet. The insult was
enjoyed by the young Frenchmen who were present : it was
too deep and grave to be forgiven by Spanish pride ; and at
once put an end to all Don Luis' plans of caution and forbear
ance. He repressed his passion for the moment, however, and
vraited until all the parties left the church ; then, accosting the
commander with an air of coolness and unconcern, he inquired
after his > ealth, and asked to what church he proposed making
his second visit. " To the Magisterial Church of Saint John."
Don Luis offered to conduct him thither, by the shortest route.
His offer was accepted, apparently without suspicion, and they
proceeded together. After walking some distance, they entered
a long, narrow lane, without door or window opening upon it,
called the " Strada Stretta," or narrow street. It was a street
in which duels were tacitly permitted, or connived at, in Malta,
and were suffered to pass as accidental encounters. Every
where else they were prohibited. This restriction had been
instituted to diminish the number of duels, formerly so fre
quent in Malta. As a farther precaution to render these en
counters less fatal, it was an offence, punishable with death,
for any one to enter this street armed with either poniard or
pistol. It was a lonely, dismal street, just wide enough for
two men to stand upon their guard, and cross their swords;
few persons ever traversed it, unless with some sinister design;
and on any preconcerted duello, the seconds posted themselves
at each end, to stop all passengers, and prevent interruption.
In the present instance, the parties had scarce entered the
134 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
street, when Don Luis drew his sword, and called upon the
commander to defend himself.
De Foulquerre was evidently taken by surprise: he drew
back, and attempted to expostulate ; but Don Luis persisted in
defying him to the combat.
After a second or two, he likewise drew his sword, but im
mediately lowered the point.
" Good Friday I" ejaculated he, shaking his head : " one woi 1
with you ; it is full six years since I have been in a conies-
sional: I am shocked at the state of my conscience; but within
three days that is to say, on Monday next "
Don Luis would listen to nothing. Though naturally of a
peaceable disposition, he had been stung to fury, and people of
that character, when once incensed, are deaf to reason. He
compelled the commander to put himself on his guard. The
latter, though a man accustomed to brawl in battle, was singu
larly dismayed. Terror was visible in all his features. He
placed himself with his back to the wall, and the weapons were
crossed. The contest was brief and fatal. At the very first
thrust, the sword of Don Luis passed through the body of his
antagonist. The commander staggered to the wall, and leaned
against it.
" On Good Friday !" ejaculated he again, with a failing voice,
and despairing accents. "Heaven pardon you!" added he,
"take my sword to Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses
performed in the chapel of the castle, for the repose of my
soul !" With these words he expired.
The fury of Don Luis was at an end. He stood aghast, gaz
ing at the bleeding body of the commander. He called to mind
the prayer of the deceased for three days' respite, to make hiu
peace with heaven; he had refused it; had sent him to the
grave, with all his sins upon his head I His conscience smote
him to the core ; he gathered up the sword of the commander,
which he had been enjoined to take to Tetefoulques, and hur
ried from the fatal Sbrada Stretta.
The duel of course made a great noise in Malta, but had no
injurious effect upon the worldly fortunes of Don Luis. He
made a full declaration of the whole matter, before the proper
authorities ; the Chapter of the Order considered it one of those
casual encounters of the Strada Stretta, which were mourned
over, but tolerated ; the public, by whom the late commander
had been generally detested, declared that he had deserved his
fate. It was but three days after the event, that Don Luis was
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 135
advanced to one of the highest dignities of the Order, being in
vested by the Grand Master with the priorship of the kingdom
of Minorca.
From that time forward, however, the whole character and
conduct of Don Luis underwent a change. He became a prey
to a dark melancholy, which nothing could assuage. The most
austere piety, the severest penances, had no effect in allaying
the horror which preyed upon his mind. He was absent for a
long time from Malta ; having gone, it was said, on remote pil
grimages : when he returned, he was more haggard than ever.
There seemed something mysterious and inexplicable in this
disorder of his mind. The following is the revelation made by
himself, of the horrible visions, or chimeras, by which he was
haunted :
" When I had made my declaration before the Chapter," said
he, ' ' and my provocations were publicly known, I had made
my peace with man ; but it was not so with God, nor with my
confessor, nor with my own conscience. My act was doubly
criminal, from the day on which it was committed, and from
my refusal to a delay of three days, for the victim of my resent
ment to receive the sacraments. His despairing ejaculation,
' Good Friuay ! Good Friday ! ' continually rang in my ears.
' Why did I not grant the respite ! ' cried I to myself ; ' was it not
enough to kill the body, but must I seek to kill the soul 1 '
"On the night of the following Friday, I started suddenly
from my sleep. An unaccountable horror was upon me. 1
looked wildly around. It seemed as if I were not in my apart
ment, nor in my bed, but in the fatal Strada Stretta, lying on
the pavement. I again saw the commander leaning against
the wall ; I again heard his dying words : ' Take my sword to
Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses performed in the
chapel of the castle, for the repose of my soul ! '
' ' On the following night, I caused one of my servants to sleep
in the same room with me. I saw and heard nothing, either
on that night, or any of the nights following, until the next
Friday ; when I had again the same vision, with this difference,
that my valet seemed to be lying at some distance from me on
the pavement of the Strada Stretta. The vision continued to
be repeated on every Friday night, the commander always
appearing in the same manner, and uttering the same words :
' Take my sword to Tetefoulques, and have a hundred masses
performed in the chapel of the castle for the repose of my
soul!'
136 WOLFRlirS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
" On questioning my servant on the subject, he stated, that
on these occasions he dreamed that he was lying in a very
narrow street, but he neither saw nor heard any thing of the
commander.
"I knew nothing of this Tetefoulques, whither the defunct
was so urgent I should carry his sword. I made inquiries,
therefore, concerning it among the French chevaliers. They
informed me that it was an old castle, situated about four
leagues from Poitiers, in the midst of a forest. It had been
built in old times, several centuries since, by Foulques Taille-
fer, (or Fulke Hackiron,) a redoubtable, hard-fighting Count
of Angouleme, who gave it to an illegitimate son, afterward
created Grand Seneschal of Poitou, which son became the pro
genitor of the Foulquerres of Tetefoulques, hereditary Sene
schals of Poitou. They farther informed me, that strange sto
ries were told of this old castle, in the surrounding country
and that it contained many curious reliques. Among these,
were the arms of Foulques Taillefer, together with all those of
the warriors he had slain; and that it was an immemorial
usage with the Foulquerres to have the weapons deposited
there which they had wielded either hi war or in single combat.
This, then, was the reason of the dying injunction of the com
mander respecting his sword. I carried this weapon with me,
wherever I went, but still I neglected to comply with his re
quest.
" The visions still continued to harass me with undiminished
horror. I repaired to Eome, where I confessed myself to the
Grand Cardinal penitentiary, and informed him of the terrors
with which I was haunted. He promised me absolution, after
I should have performed certain acts of penance, the principal
of which was, to execute the dying request of the commander,
by carrying the sword to Tetefoulques, and having the hundred
masses performed in the chapel of the castle for the repose of
his soul.
"I set out for France as speedily as possible, and made no
delay in my journey. On arriving at Poitiers, I found that
the tidings of the death of the commander had reached there,
but had caused no more affliction than among the people of
Malta. Leaving my equipage in the town, I put on the garb of
a pilgrim, and taking a guide, set out on foot for Tetef otilques.
Indeed the roads in this part of the country were impracticable
for carriages.
" I found the castle of Tetefoulques a grand but gloomy and
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 137
dilapidated pile. All the gates were closed, and there reigned
over the whole place an air of almost savage loneliness and
desertion. I had understood that its only inhabitants were the
concierge, or warder, and a kind of hermit who had charge of
the chapel. After ringing for some time at the gate, I at
length succeeded in bringing forth the warder, who bowed
with reverence to my pilgrim's garb. I begged him to conduct
me to the chapel, that being the end of my pilgrimage. We
found the hermit there, chanting the funeral service ; a dismal
sound to one who came to perform a penance for the death of
a member of the family. When he had ceased to chant, I
informed him that I came to accomplish an obligation of con
science, and that I wished him to perform a hundred masses
for the repose of the soul of the commander. He replied that,
not being in orders, he was not authorized to perform mass,
but that he would willingly undertake to see that my debt of
conscience was discharged. I laid my offering on the altar,
and would have placed the sword of the commander there,
likewise. ' Hold ! ' said the hermit, with a melancholy shake
of the head, 'this is no place for so deadly a weapon, that
has so often been bathed in Christian blood. Take it to the
armory ; you will find there trophies enough of like character.
It is a place into which I never enter.'
' ' The warder here took up the theme abandoned by the peace
ful man of God. He assured me that I would see in the armory
the swords of all the warrior race of Foulquerres, together
with those of the enemies over whom they had triumphed.
This, he observed, had been a usage kept up since the time of
Mellusine, and of her husband, Geoffrey a la Grand-dent, or
Geoffrey with the Great-tooth.
"I followed the gossiping warder to the armory. It was a
great dusty hall, hung round with Gothic-looking portraits, of
a stark line of warriors, each with his weapon, and the wea
pons of those he had slain in battle, hung beside his picture.
The most conspicuous portrait was that of Foulques Taillefer,
(Fulke Hackiron,) Count of Angouleme, and founder of the
castle. He was represented at full length, armed cap-a-pie,
and grasping a huge buckler, on which were emblazoned three
lions passant. The figure was so striking, that it seemed ready
to start from the canvas : and I observed beneath this picture,
a trophy composed of many weapons, proofs of the numerous
triumphs of this hard-fighting old cavalier. Beside the wea
pons connected with the portraits, there were swords of alJ
138 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
shapes, sizes, and centuries, hung round the ha 1 ! ; with piles of
armor, placed as it were in effigy.
" On each side of an immense chimney, were suspended the
portraits of the first seneschal of Poitou (the illegitimate son of
Foulques Taillef er) and his wife Isabella do Lusignan ; the pro
genitors of the grim race of Foulquerres that frowned around.
They had the look of being perfect likenesses ; and as I gazed on
them, I fancied I could trace in their antiquated features some
family resemblance to their unfortunate descendant, whom I
had slain ! This was a dismal neighborhood, yet the armory
was the only part of the castle that had a habitable air ; so I
asked the warder whether he could not make a fire, and give
me something for supper there, and prepare me a bed in one
corner.
'"A fire and a supper you shall have, and that cheerfully, most
worthy pilgrim,' said he; 'but as to a bed, I advise you
to come and sleep in my chamber.'
" ' Why so? ' inquired I ; ' why shall I not sleep in this hall? '
" ' I have my reasons; I will make a bed for you close to
mine.'
" I made no objections, for I recollected that it was Friday,
and I dreaded the return of my vision. He brought in billets
of wood, kindled a fire in the great overhanging chimney, and
then went forth to prepare my supper. I drew a heavy chair
before the fire, and seating myself in it, gazed muzingly round
upon the portraits of the Foulquerres, and the antiquated
armor and weapons, the mementos of many a bloody deed. As
the day declined, the smoky draperies of the hall gradually
became confounded with the dark ground of the paintings, and
the lurid gleams from the chimney only enabled me to see
visages staring at me from the gathering darkness. All this
was dismal in the extreme, and somewhat appalling; perhaps
it was the state of my conscience that rendered me peculiarly
sensitive, and prone to fearful ima linings.
" At length the warder brought in my supper. It consisted
of a dish of trout, and some crawfish taken in the fosse of the
castle. He procured also a bottle of wine, which he informed
me was wine of Poitou. I requested him to invite the hermit
to join me in my repast ; but the holy man sent back word that
he allowed himself nothing but roots and herbs, cooked with
water. I took my meal, therefore, alone, but prolonged it as
much as possible, and sought to cheer my drooping spirits by
the wine of Poitou, which I found very tolerable.
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 139
" When supper was over, I prepared for my evening devo^
tions. I have always been very punctual in reciting my brevi
ary ; it is the prescribed and bounden duty of all chevaliers of
the religious orders; and I can answer for it, is faithfully
performed by those of Spain. I accordingly drew forth from
my pocket a small missal and a rosary, and told the warder
he need only designate to me the way to his chamber, where I
could come and rejoin him, when I had finished my prayers.
"He accordingly pointed out a winding stair-case, opening
from the hall. 'You will descend this stair-case,' said he,
4 until you come to the fourth landing-place, where you enter a
vaulted passage, terminated by an arcade, with a statue of the
blessed Jeanne of France ; you cannot help finding my room,
the door of which I will leave open ; it is the sixth door from
the landing-place. I advise you not to remain in this hall after
midnight. Before that hour, you will hear the hermit ring the
bell, in going the rounds of the corridors. Do not linger here
after that signal.'
"The warder retired, and I commenced my devotions. I
continued at them earnestly ; pausing from time to time to put
wood upon the fire. I did not dare to look much around me,
for I felt myself becoming a prey to fearful fancies. The pic
tures appeared to become animated. If I regarded one atten
tively, for any length of time, it seemed to move the eyes and
lips. Above all, the portraits of the Grand Seneschal and his
lady, which hung on each side of the great chimney, the pro
genitors of the Foulquerres of Tetefoulque, regarded me, I
thought, with angry and baleful eyes: I even fancied they
exchanged significant glances with each other. Just then a
terrible blast of wind shook all the casements, and, rushing
through the hall, made a fearful rattling and clashing among
the armor. To my startled fancy, it seemed something super
natural.
"At length I heard the bell of the hermit, and hastened to
quit the hall. Talcing a solitary light, which stood on the sup
per-table, I descended the winding stair-case ; but before I had
reached the vaulted passage leading to the statue of the blessed
Jeanne of France, a blast of wind extinguished my taper. I
hastily remounted the stairs, to light it again at the chimney ;
but judge of my f eelings, when, on arriving at the entrance to
the armory, I beheld the Seneschal and his lady, who had
descended from their frames, and seated themselves on each
side of the fire-place !
M!) WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
" ' Madam, my love,' said the Seneschal, with great formality,
and in antiquated phrase, 'what think you of the presump
tion of this Castilian, who comes to harbor himself and make
wassail in this our castle, after having slain our descendant,
the commander, and that without granting Him time for con
fession? '
" ' Truly, my lord,' answered the female spectre, with no less
etateliness of manner, and with great asperity of tone ; ' truly,
my lord, I opine that this Castihan did a grievous wrong in this
encounter; and he should never be suffered to depart hence,
without your throwing him the gauntlet.' I paused to hear no
more, but rushed again down-stairs, to seek the chamber of the
warder. It was impossible to find it in the darkness, and in the
perturbation of my mind. After an hour and a half of fruitless
search, and mortal horror and anxieties, I endeavored to per
suade myself that the day was about to break, and listened
impatiently for the crowing of the cock; for I thought if I could
hear his cheerful note, I should be reassured; catching, in the
disordered state of my nerves, at the popular notion that
ghosts never appear after the first crowing of the cock.
" At length I rallied myself, and endeavored to shake off the
vague terrors which haunted me. I tried to persuade myself
that the two figures which I had seemed to see and hear, had
existed only in my troubled imagination. I still had the end
of the candle in my hand, and determined to make another
effort to re-light it, and find my way to bed ; for I was ready to
sink with fatigue. I accordingly sprang up the stair-case,
three steps at a time, stopped at the door of the armory, and
peeped cautiously in. The two Gothic figures were no longer
in the chimney corners, but I neglected to notice whether they
had reascended to their frames. I entered, and made desper
ately for the fire-place, but scarce had I advanced three strides,
when Messire Foulques Taillefer stood before me, in the centre
of the hall, armed cap-a-pie, and standing in guard, with the
point of his sword silently presented to me. I would have
retreated to the stair-case, but the door of it was occupied by
the phantom figure of an esquire, who rudely flung a gauntlet
in my face. Driven to fury, I snatched down a sword from the
wall : by chance, it was that of the commander which I had
placed there. I rushed upon my fantastic adversary, and
seemed to pierce him through and through ; but at the same
time I felt as if something pierced my heart, burning like a
red-hot iron. My blood inundated the hall, and I fell senseless,
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA. 141
"WHEN I recovered consciousness, it was broad day, and I
found myself in a small chamber, attended by the warder and
the hermit. The former told me that on the previous night, he
had awakened long after the midnight hour, and perceiving
that I had not come to his chamber, he had furnished himself
with a vase of holy water, and set out to seek me. He found
uie stretched senseless on the pavement of the armory, and
bore me to this room. I spoke of my wound, and of the quan
tity of blood that I had lost. He shook his head, and knew
nothing about it ; and to my surprise, on examination, I found
myself perfectly sound and unharmed. The wound and blood,
therefore, had been all delusion. Neither the warder nor the
hermit put any questions to me, but advised me to leave the
castle as soon as possible. I lost no time in complying with
their counsel, and felt my heart relieved from an oppressive
weight, as I left the gloomy and fate-bound battlements of
Tetefoulques behind me.
' ' I arrived at Bayonne, on my way to Spain, on the follow
ing Friday. At midnight I was startled from my sleep, as I
had formerly been ; but it was no longer by the vision of the
dying commander. It was old Foulques Taillefer who stood
before me, armed cap-a-pie, and presenting the point of his
sword. I made the sign of the cross, and the spectre vanished,
but I received the same red-hot thrust in the heart which I had
felt in the armory, and I seemed to be bathed in blood. I would
have called out, or have arisen from my bed and gone ha quest
of succor, but I could neither speak nor stir. This agony en
dured until the crowing of the cock, when I fell asleep again ;
but the next day I was ill, and in a most pitiable state. I
have continued to be harassed by the same vision every Fri
day night ; no acts of penitence and devotion have been able to
relieve me from it ; and it is only a lingering hope in divine
mercy, that sustains me, and enables me to support so lamen
table a visitation."
The Grand Prior of Minorca wasted gradually away under
this constant remorse of conscience, and this horrible incubus.
He died some time after having revealed the preceding particu
lars of his case, evidently the victim of a diseased imagination.
The above relation has been rendered, in many parts Literally,
from the French memoir, in which it is given as a true story :
if so, it is one of those instances in which truth is more
romantic than fiction G. C.
142 WOLFERT'S 1100ST AND MISCELLANIES.
LEGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT.
BY GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT.
AT the dark and melancholy period when Don Roderick the
Goth and his chivalry were overthrown on the banks of the
Guadalete, and all Spain was overrun by the Moors, great was
the devastation of churches and convents throughout that
pious kingdom. The miraculous fate of one of those holy piles
is thus recorded in one of the authentic legends of those days.
On the summit of a hill, not very distant from the capital
city of Toledo, stood an ancient convent and chapel, dedicated
to the invocation of Saint Benedict, and inhabited by a sister
hood of Benedictine nuns. This holy asylum was confined to
females of noble lineage. The younger sisters of the highest
families were here given in religious marriage to their Saviour,
in order that the portions of their elder sisters might be in
creased, and they enabled to make suitable matches on earth,
or that the family wealth might go undivided to elder brothers,
and the dignity of their ancient houses be protected from
decay. The convent was renowned, therefore, for enshrining
within its walls a sisterhood of the purest blood, the most im
maculate virtue, and most resplendent beauty, of all Gothic
Spain.
When the Moors overran the kingdom, there was nothing
that more excited their hostility than these virgin asylums.
The very sight of a convent-spire was sufficient to set their
Moslem blood in a foment, and they sacked it with as fierce a
zeal as though the sacking of a nunnery were a sure passport
to Elysium.
Tidings of such outrages committed in various parts of the
kingdom reached this noble sanctuary and filled it with dis
may. The danger came nearer and nearer; the infidel hosts
were spreading all over the country; Toledo itself was cap
tured ; there was no flying from the convent, and no security
within its walls.
In the midst of this agitation, the alarm was given one day
that a great band of Saracens were spurring across the plain.
In an instant the whole convent was a scene of confusion.
Some of the nuns wrung their fair hands at the windows;
others waved their veils and uttered shrieks from the tops of
the towers, vainly hoping to draw relief from a country over-
LEGEND OF THE ENGULPHED CONVENT. 143
run by the foe. The sight of these innocent doves thus flutter
ing about their dove-cote, but increased the zealot fury of tho
whiskered Moors. They thundered at the portal, and at every
blow the ponderous gates trembled on their hinges.
The nuns now crowded round the abbess. They had been
accustomed to look up to her as all-powerful, and they now im
plored her protection. The mother abbess looked with a rueful
eye upon the treasures of beauty and vestal virtue exposed to
such imminent peril. Alas ! how was she to protect them from
the spoiler ! She had, it is true, experienced many signal inter
positions of providence in her individual favor. Her early
days had been passed amid the temptations of a court, where
her virtue had been purified by repeated trials, from none of
which had she escaped but by a miracle. But were miracles
never to cease? Could she hope that the marvellous protection
shown to herself would be extended to a whole sisterhood?
There was no other resource. The Moors were at the thresh
old ; a few moments more and the convent would be at their
mercy. Summoning her nuns to follow her, she hurried into
the chapel ; and throwing herself on her knees before the image
of the blessed Mary, "Oh, holy Lady!" exclaimed she, "oh,
most pure and immaculate of virgins ! thou seest our extremity.
The ravager is at the gate, and there is none on earth to help
us ! Look down with pity, and grant that the earth may gape
and swallow us rather than that our cloister vows should suf
fer violation!"
The Moors redoubled their assault upon the portal ; the gates
gave way, with a tremendous crash ; a savage yell of exulta
tion arose ; when of a sudden the earth yawned ; down sank the
convent, with its cloisters, its dormitories, and all its nuns.
The chapel tower was the last that sank, the bell ringing
forth a peal of triumph in the very teeth of the infidels.
FORTY years had passed and gone, since the period of this
miracle. The subjugation of Spain was complete. The Moors
lorded it over city and country; and such of the Christian
population as remained, and were permitted to exercise their
religion, did it in humble resignation to the Moslem sway.
At this time, a Christian cavalier, of Cordova, hearing that
a patriotic band of his countrymen had raised the standard of
the cross in the mountains of the Asturias, resolved to join
them, and unite in breaking the yoke of bondage. Secretly
144 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
arming himself, and caparisoning liis steed, he set forth from
Cordova, and pursued his course by unfrequented mule-paths,
and along the diy channels made by winter torrents. His
spirit burned with indignation, whenever, on commanding a
view over a long sweeping plain, he beheld the mosque swell
ing in the distance, and the Arab horsemen careering about,
as if the rightful lords of the soil. Many a deep-drawn sigh,
and heavy groan, also, did the good cavalier utter, on pass
ing the ruins of churches and convents desolated by the con
querors.
It was on a sultry midsummer evening, that this wander
ing cavalier, in skirting a hill thickly covered with forest, heard
the faint tones of a vesper bell sounding melodiously in the
air, and seeming to come from the summit of the hill. The
cavalier crossed himself with wonder, at this unwonted and
Christian sound. He supposed it to proceed from one of those
humble chapels and hermitages permitted to exist through
the indulgence of the Moslem conquerors. Turning his steed
up a narrow path of the forest, he sought this sanctuary, in
hopes of finding a hospitable shelter for the night. As he
advanced, the trees threw a deep gloom around him, and
the bat flitted across his path. The bell ceased to toll, and
all was silence.
Presently a choir of female voices came stealing sweetly
through the forest, chanting the evening service, to the solemn
accompaniment of an organ. The heart of the good cavalier
melted at the sound, for it recalled the happier days of his
country. Urging forward his weary steed, he at length ar
rived at a broad grassy area, on the summit of the hill, sur
rounded by the forest. Here the melodious voices rose in full
chorus, like the swelling of the breeze ; but whence they came,
he could not tell. Sometimes they were before, sometimes
behind him ; sometimes in the air, sometimes as if from within
the bosom of the earth. At length they died away, and a holy
stillness settled on the place.
The cavalier gazed around with bewildered eye. There
was neither chapel nor convent, nor humble hermitage, to
be seen ; nothing but a moss-grown stone pinnacle, rising out
of the centre of the area, surmounted by a cross. The green
sward around appeared to have been sacred from the tread
of man or beast, and the surrounding trees bent toward tho
cross, as if in adoration.
The cavalier felt a sensation of holy awe. He alighted and
LEGEND OF THE ENGULP11ED CONVENT. 145
tethered his steed on the skirts of the forest, where he might
crop the tender herbage ; then approaching the cross, he knelt
and poured forth his evening prayers before this relique of
the Christian days of Spain. His orisons being concluded,
he laid himself down at the foot of the pinnacle, and reclin
ing his head against one of its stones, fell into a deep sleep.
About midnight, he was awakened by the tolling of a bell,
and found himself lying before the gate of an ancient con
vent. A train of nuns passed by, each bearing a taper. The
cavalier rose and followed them into the chapel; in the cen
tre of which was a bier, on which lay the corpse of an aged
nun. The organ performed a solemn requiem : the nuns join
ing in chorus. When the funeral service was finished, a
melodious voice chanted, " Requiescat in pace!" "May she
rest in peace !" The lights immediately vanished ; the whole
passed away as a dream; and the cavalier found himself at
the foot of the cross, and beheld, by the faint rays of the
rising moon, his steed quietly grazing near him.
When the day dawned, the cavalier descended the hill, and
following the course of a small brook, came to a cave, at the
entrance of which was seated an ancient man, clad in hermit's
garb, with rosary and cross, and a beard that descended to his
girdle. He was one of those holy anchorites permitted by the
Moors to live unmolested in dens and caves, and humble her
mitages, and even to practise the rites of their religion. The
cavalier checked his horse, and dismounting, knelt and craved
a benediction. He then related all that had befallen him in
the night, and besought the hermit to explain the mystery.
"What thou hast heard and seen, my son," replied the
other, "is but type and shadow of the woes of Spain."
He then related the foregoing story of the miraculous de
liverance of the convent.
"Forty years," added the holy man, "have elapsed since
'this event, yet the bells of that sacred edifice are still heard,
from time to time, sounding from under ground, together
with the pealing of the organ, and the chanting of the choir.
The Moors avoid this neighborhood, as haunted ground, and
the whole place, as thou mayest perceive, has become covered
with a thick and lonely forest. "
The cavalier listened with wonder to the story of this en-
gulphed convent, as related by the holy man. For three days
and nights did they keep vigils beside the cross ; but nothing
more was to be seen of nun or convent. It is supposed that,
146 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
forty years having elapsed, the natural lives of all the nuna
were finished, and that the cavalier had beheld the obsequies
of the last of the sisterhood. Certain it is, that from that
time, bell, and organ, and choral chant have never more been
heard.
The mouldering pinnacle, surmounted by the cross, still
remains an object of pious pilgrimage. Some say that it
anciently stood in front of the convent, but others assert that
it was the spire of the sacred edifice, and that, when the
main body of the building sank, this remained above ground,
like the top-mast of some tall ship that has foundered.
These pious believers maintain, that the convent is miracu
lously preserved entire in the centre of the mountain, where,
if proper excavations were made, it would be found, with all
its treasures, and monuments, and shrines, and reliques, and
the tombs of its virgin nuns.
Should any one doubt the truth of this marvellous inter
position of the Virgin, to protect the vestal purity of her
votaries, let him read the excellent work entitled " Espana
Triumphante," written by Padre Fray Antonio de Sancta
Maria, a bare-foot friar of the Carmelite order, and he will
doubt no longer.
THE COUNT VAN HORN.
DURING the minority of Louis XV., while the Duke of
Orleans was Regent of France, a young Flemish nobleman,
the Count Antoine Joseph Van Horn, made his sudden ap
pearance in Paris, and by his character, conduct, and the sub
sequent disasters in which he became involved, created a great
sensation in the high circles of the proud aristocracy. He
was about twenty-two years of age, tall, finely formed, with a
pale, romantic countenance, and eyes of remarkable brilliancy
and wildness.
He was of one of the most ancient and highly-esteemed
families of European nobility, being of the line of the Princes
of Horn and Overique, sovereign Counts of Hautekerke, and
hereditary Grand Veneurs of the empire.
The family took its name from the little town and seigneurie
of Horn, in Brabant ; and was known as early as the eleventh
century among the little dynasties of the Netherlands, and
THE COUNT VAN' HORN. 147
since that time by a long line of illustrious generations. At
the peace of Utrecht, when the Netherlands passed under sub
jection to Austria, the House of Van Horn came under the
domination of the emperor. At the time we treat of, two of
the branches of this ancient house were extinct ; the third and
only surviving branch was represented by the reigning prince,
Maximilian Emanuel Van Horn, twenty-four years of age, who
resided in honorable and courtly style on his hereditary do
mains at Baussigny, in the Netherlands, and his brother, the
Count Antoine Joseph, who is the subject of this memoir.
The ancient house of Van Horn, by the intermarriage of its
various "branches with the noble families of the continent, had
become widely connected and interwoven with the high aris
tocracy of Europe. The Count Antoine, therefore, could claim
relationship to many of the proudest names in Paris. In fact,
he was grandson, by the mother's side, of the Prince de Ligne,
and even might boast of affinity to the Eegent (the Duke of
Orleans) himself. There were circumstances, however, con
nected with his sudden appearance in Paris, and his previous
story, that placed him in what is termed "a false position ;" a
word of baleful significance in the fashionable vocabulary of
France.
The young count had been a captain in the service of Aus
tria, but had been cashiered for irregular conduct, and for
disrespect to Prince Louis of Baden, commander- in-chief. To
check him in his wild career, and bring him to sober reflection,
his brother the prince caused him to be arrested and sent to
the old castle of Van Wert, in the domains of Horn. This was
the same castle in which, in former times, John Van Horn,
Stadtholder of Gueldres, had imprisoned his father ; a circum
stance which has furnished Rembrandt with the subject of an
admirable painting. The governor of the castle was one Van
Wert, grandson of the famous John Van Wert, the hero of
many a popular song and legend. It was the intention of the
prince that his brother should be held in honorable durance,
for his object was to sober and improve, not to punish and
afflict him. Van Wert, however, was a stern, harsh man of
riolent passions. He treated the youth in a manner that pri
soners and offenders were treated in the strong-holds of the
robber counts of Germany in old times ; confined him in a
dungeon and inflicted on him such hardships and indignities
that the irritable temperament of the young count was roused
to continual fury, which ended in insanity. For six months
148 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES
was the unfortunate youth kept in this horrible state, without
his brother the prince being informed of his melancholy condi
tion or of the cruel treatment to which he was subjected. At
length, one day, in a paroxysm of frenzy, the count knocked
down two of his gaolers with a beetle, escaped from the castle
of Van Wert, and eluded all pursuit ; and after roving about
in a state of distraction, made his way to Baussigny ant!
appeared like a sceptre before his brother.
The prince was shocked at his wretched, emaciated appear
ance and his lamentable state of mental alienation. He re
ceived him with the most compassionate tenderness; lodged
him in his own room, appointed three servants to attend and
watch over him day and night, and endeavored by the most
soothing and affectionate assiduity to atone for the past act of
rigor with which he reproached himself. When he learned,
however, the manner in which his unfortunate brother had
been treated in confinement, and the course of brutalities that
had led to his mental malady, he was roused to indignation.
His first step was to cashier Van Wert from his command.
That violent man set the prince at defiance, and attempted to
maintain himself in his government and his castle by instigat
ing the peasants, for several leagues round, to revolt. His
insurrection might have been formidable against the power of
a petty prince ; but he was put under the ban of the empire
and seized as a state prisoner. The memory of his grandfather,
the oft-sung John Van Wert, alone saved him from a gibbet ;
but he was imprisoned in the strong tower of Horn-op-Zee.
There he remained until he was eighty -two years of age, sav
age, violent, and unconquered to the last ; for we are told that
he never ceased fighting and thumping as long as he could
close a fist or wield a cudgel.
In the mean time a course of kind and gentle treatment and
wholesome regimen, and, above all, the tender and affectionntf
assiduity of his brother, the prince, produced the most salutary
effects upon Count Antoine. He gradually recovered his
reason ; but a degree of violence seemed always lurking at the
bottom of his character, and he required to be treated with the
greatest caution and mildness, for the least contradiction exas
perated him.
In this state of mental convalescence, he began to find the
supervision and restraints of brotherly affection insupportable ;
BO he left the Netherlands furtively, and repaired to Paris,
whither, in fact, it is said he was called by motives of interest,
THE COUNT VAN HORN. 149
to make arrangements concerning a valuable estate which he
inherited from his relative, the Princess d'Epinay.
On his arrival in Paris, he called upon the Marquis of Crequi,
and other of the high nobility with whom he was connected.
He was received with great courtesy ; but, as he brought no
letters from his elder brother, the prince, and as various cir
cumstances of his previous history had transpired, they did
not receive him into their families, nor introduce him to their
ladies. Still they feted him in bachelor style, gave him gay
and elegant suppers at their separate apartments, and took
him to their boxes at the theatres. He was often noticed, too,
at the doors of the most fashionable churches, taking his stand
among the young men of fashion ; and at such times, his tall,
elegant figure, his pale but handsome countenance, and his
flashing eyes, distinguished him from among the crowd ; and
the ladies declared that it was almost impossible to support his
ardent gaze.
The Count did not afflict himself much at his limited circu
lation in the fastidious circles of the high aristocracy. He
relished society of a wilder and less ceremonious cast; and
meeting with loose companions to his taste, soon ran into all
the excesses of the capital, in that most licentious period. It
is said that, in the course of his wild career, he had an intrigue
with a lady of quality, a favorite of the Eegent ; that he was
surprised by that prince in one of his interviews ; that sharp
words passed between them ; and that the jealousy and ven
geance thus awakened, ended only with his Me.
About this time, the famous Mississippi scheme of Law was
at its height, or rather it began to threaten that disastrous
catastrophe which convulsed the whole financial world. Every
effort was making to keep the bubble inflated. The vagrant
population of France was swept off from the streets at night,
and conveyed to Havre de Grace, to be shipped to the pro
jected colonies ; even laboring people and mechanics were thus
crimped and spirited away. As Count Antoine was in the
habit of sallying forth at night, in disguise, in pursuit of his
pleasures, he came near being carried off by a gang of crimps ;
it seemed, in fact, as if they had been lying in wait for him, as
he had experienced very rough treatment at their hands.
Complaint was made of Ms case by his relation, the Marquis
de Crequi, who took much interest in the youth ; but the Mar
quis received mysterious intimations not to interfere in the
matter, but to advise the Count to quit Paris immediately
150 WOLFERT8 ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
" If he lingers, he is lost !" This has been cited as a proof that
vengeance was dogging at the heels of the unfortunate youth,
and only watching for an opportunity to destroy him.
Such opportunity occurred but too soon. Among the loose
companions with whom the Count had become intimate, were
two who lodged in the same hotel with him. One was a youth
only twenty years of age, who passed himself off as the Cheva
lier d'Etampes, but whose real name was Lestang, the prodi
gal son of a Flemish banker. The other, named Laurent de
Mille, a Piedmontese, was a cashiered captain, and at the time
an esquire in the service of the dissolute Princess de Carignan,
who kept gambling-tables in her palace. It is probable that
gambling propensities had driven these young men together,
and that their losses had brought them to desperate measures :
certain it is, that all Paris was suddenly astounded by a mur
der which they were said to have committed. "What made the
crime more startling, was, that it seemed connected with the
great Mississippi scheme, at that time the fruitful source of all
kinds of panics and agitations. A Jew, a stock-broker, who
dealt largely in shares of the bank of Law, founded on the
Mississippi scheme, was the victim. The story of his death is
variously related. The darkest account states, that the Jew
was decoyed by these young men into an obscure tavern,
under pretext of negotiating with him for bank shares to the
amount of one hundred thousand crowns, which he had with
him in his pocket-book. Lestang kept watch upon the stairs.
The Count and De Mille entered with the Jew into a chamber.
In a little while there were heard cries and struggles from
within. A waiter passing by the room, looked in, and seeing
the Jew weltering in his blood, shut the door again, double-
locked it, and alarmed the house. Lestang rushed down
stairs, made his way to the hotel, secured his most portable
effects, and fled the country. The Count and De Mille en
deavored to escape by the window, but were both taken, and
conducted to prison.
A circumstance which occurs in this part of the Count's
story, seems to point him out as a fated man. His mother,
and his brother, the Prince Van Horn, had received intelli
gence some time before at Baussigny, of the dissolute life the
Count was leading at Paris, and of his losses at play. They
despatched a gentleman of the prince's household to Paris, to
pay the debts of the Count, and persuade him to return to
Flanders; or, if he should refuse, to obtain an order from the
THE COUNT VAN HORN. 151
Regent for Vn'm to quit the capital. Unfortunately the gentle
man did not arrive at Paris until the day after the murder.
The news of the Count's arrest and imprisonment on a
charge of murder, caused a violent sensation among the high
aristocracy. All those connected with him, who had treated
him hitherto with indifference, found their dignity deeply in
volved in the question of his guilt or innocence. A general
convocation was held at the hotel of the Marquis de Crequi, of
all the relatives and allies of the house of Horn. It was an as
semblage of the most proud and aristocratic personages of
Paris. Inquiries were made into the circumstances of tho
affair. It was ascertained, beyond a doubt, that the Jew was
dead, and that he had been killed by several stabs of a pon
iard. In escaping by the window, it was said that the Count
had fallen, and been immediately taken ; but that De Mille had
fled through the streets, pursued by the populace, and had been
arrested at some distance from the scene of the murder; that
the Count had declared himself innocent of the death of the
Jew, and that he had risked his own life in endeavoring to
protect him ; but that De Mille, on being brought back to the
tavern, confessed to a plot to murder the broker, and rob him
of his pocket-book, and inculpated the Count in the crime.
Another version of the story was, that the Count Van Horn
had deposited with the broker, bank shares to the amount of
eighty-eight thousand li vres ; that he had sought him in this
tavern, which was one of his resorts, and had demanded the
shares; that the Jew had denied the deposit; that a quarrel
had ensued, in the course of which the Jew struck the Count
in the face; that the latter, transported with rage, had
snatched up a knife from a table, and wounded the Jew in
the shoulder ; and that thereupon De Mille, who was present,
and who had likewise been defrauded by the broker, fell on
him, and despatched him with blows of a poniard, and seized
upon his pocket-book ; that he had offered to divide the con
tents of the latter with the Count, pro rata, of what the usurer
had defrauded them ; that the latter had refused the proposi
tion with disdain, and that, at a noise of persons approach
ing, both had attempted to escape from the premises, but had
been taken.
Regard the story in any way they might, appearances were
terribly against the Count, and the noble assemblage was in
great consternation. What was to be done to ward off so foul
a disgrace and to save their illustrious escutcheons from this
152 WOLFERTS ROOST AND MISCELLANIES.
murderous stain of blood? Their first attempt was to prevent
the affair from going to trial, and their relative from being
dragged before a criminal tribunal, on so horrible and de
grading a charge. They applied, therefore, to the Regent, to
intervene his power ; to treat the Count as having acted under
an access of his mental malady ; and to shut him up in a mad
house. The Regent was deaf to their solicitations. He re
plied, coldly, that if the Count was a madman, one could not
get rid too quickly of madmen who were furious in their in
sanity. The crime was too public and atrocious to be hushed
up or slurred over ; justice must take its course.
Seeing there was no avoiding the humiliating scene of a
public trial, the noble relatives of the Count endeavored to pre
dispose the minds of the magistrates before whom he was to
be arraigned. They accordingly made urgent and eloquent
representations of the high descent, and noble and powerful
connexions of the Count; set forth the circumstances of his
early history ; his mental malady ; the nervous irritability to
which he was subject, and his extreme sensitiveness to insult
or contradiction. By these means they sought to prepare the
judges to interpret every thing in favor of the Count, and,
even if it should prove that he had inflicted the mortal blow
on the usurer, to attribute it to access of insanity, provoked
by insult.
To give full effect to these representations, the noble con
clave determined to bring upon the judges the dazzling rays
of the whole assembled aristocracy. Accordingly, on the day
that the trial took place, the relations of the Count, to the
number of fifty-seven persons, of both sexes, and of the high
est rank, repaired hi a body to the Palace of Justice, and took
their stations in a long corridor which led to the court-room.
Here, as the judges entered, they had to pass in review this
array of lofty and noble personages, who saluted them mourn
fully and significantly, as they passed. Any one conversant
with the stately pride and jealous dignity of the French
noblesse of that day, may imagine the extreme state of sensi
tiveness that produced this self-abasement. It was confidently
presumed, however, by the noble suppliants, that having once
brought themselves to this measure, their influence over the
tribunal would be irresistible. There was one lady present,
however, Madame de Beauffremont, who was affected with
the Scottish gift of second sight, and related such dismal and
sinister apparitions as passing before her eyes, that many of
THE COUNT VAN HORN. 153
her female companions were filled with doleful presenti
ments.
Unfortunately for the Count, there was another interest at
work, more powerful even than the high aristocracy. The all-
potent Abbe Dubois, the grand favorite and bosom counsellor
of the Regent, was deeply interested in the scheme of Law,
and the prosperity of his bank, and of course in the security of
the stock-brokers. Indeed, the Regent himself is said to have
dipped deep in the Mississippi scheme. Dubois and Law,
therefore, exerted their influence to the utmost to have the
tragic affair pushed to the extremity of the law, and the mur
der of the broker punished in the most signal and appalling
manner. Certain it is, the trial was neither long nor intricate.
The Count and his fellow prisoner were equally inculpated in
the crime ; and both were condemned to a death the most hor
rible and ignominious to be broken alive on the wheel !
As soon as the sentence of the court was made public, all the
nobility, in any degree related to the house of Van Horn, went
into mourning. Another grand aristocratical assemblage was
held, and a petition to the Regent, on behalf of the Count, was
drawn out and left with the Marquis de Crequi for signature.
This petition set forth the previous insanity of the Count, and
showed that it was a hereditary malady of his family. It
stated various circumstances in mitigation of his offence, and
implored that his sentence might be commuted to perpetual
imprisonment.
Upward of fifty names of the highest nobility, beginning
with the Prince de Ligne, and including cardinals, arch
bishops, dukes, marquises, etc., together with ladies of equal
rank, were signed to this petition. By one of the caprices of
human pride and vanity, it became an object of ambition to
get enrolled among the illustrious suppliants ; a kind of testi
monial of noble blood, to prove relationship to a murderer!
The Marquis de Crequi was absolutely besieged by applicants
to sign, and had to refer their claims to this singular honor, to
the Prince de Ligne, the grandfather of the Count. Many who
were excluded, were highly incensed, and numerous feuds took
place. Nay, the affronts thus given to the morbid pride of
some aristocratical families, passed from generation to genera
tion ; for, fifty years afterward, the Duchess of Mazarin com
plained of a slight which her father had received from the Mar
quis de Crequi ; which proved to be something connected with
the signature of this petition.
154 WOLt'JfW& ROOST AM) MISCELLANIES.
This important document being completed, the illustrious
body of petitioners, male and female, on Saturday evening,
the eve of Palm Sunday, repaired to the Palais Royal, the resi
dence of the Regent, and were ushered, with great ceremony
but profound silence, into his hall of council. They had ap
pointed four of their number as deputies, to present the peti
tion, viz. : the Cardinal de Rohan, the Duke de Havre, the
Prince de Ligne, and the Marquis de Crequi. After a little
while, the deputies were summoned to the cabinet of the Re
gent. They entered, leaving the assembled petitioners in a state
of the greatest anxiety. As time slowly wore away, and the
evening advanced, the gloom of the company increased. Sev
eral of the ladies prayed devoutly; the good Princess of Ar-
magnac told her beads.
The petition was received by the Regent with a most unpropi-
tious aspect. "In asking the pardon of the criminal," said he,
"you display more zeal for the house of Van Horn, than for
the service of the king." The noble deputies enforced the peti
tion by every argument in their power. They supplicated the
Regent to consider that the infamous punishment in question
would reach not merely the person of the condemned, not
merely the house of Van Horn, but also the genealogies of
princely and illustrious families, in whose armorial bearings
might be found quarterings of this dishonored name.
"Gentlemen," replied the Regent, " it appears to me the dis
grace consists in the crime, rather than in the punishment."
The Prince de Ligne spoke with warmth: "I have in my
genealogical standard," said he, "four escutcheons of Van
Horn, and of course have four ancestors of that house. I must
have them erased and effaced, and there would be so many
blank spaces, like holes, in my heraldic ensigns. There is not
a sovereign family which would not suffer, through the rigor
of your Royal Highness ; nay, all the world knows, that in the
thirty-two quartsrings of Madame, your mother, there is an
escutcheon of Van Horn."
" Very well," replied the Regent, " I will share the disgrace
with you, gentlemen."
Seeing that a pardon could not be obtained, the Cardinal
de Rohan and the Marquis de Cre"qui left the cabinet ; but the
Prince de Ligne and the Duke de Havre remained behind.
The honor of their houses, more than the life of the unhappy
Count, was the great object of their solicitude. They now en
deavored to obtain a minor grace. They represented that in
THE COUNT VAN HORN. 155
the Netherlands, and in Germany, there was an important dif
ference in the public mind as to the mode of inflicting the pun
ishment of death upon persons of quality. That decapitation
had no influence on the fortunes of the family of the executed,
but that the punishment of the wheel was such an infamy,
that the uncles, aunts, brothers, and sisters of the criminal,
and his whole family, for three succeeding generations, were
excluded from all noble chapters, princely abbeys, sovereign
bishoprics, and even Teutonic commanderies of the Order of
Malta. They showed how this would operate immediately
upon the fortunes of a sister of the Count, who was on the
point of being received as a canoness into one of the noble
chapters.
While this scene was going on in the cabinet of the Regent,
the illustrious assemblage of petitioners remained in the hall of
council, in the most gloomy state of suspense. The re-entrance
from the cabinet of the Cardinal de Rohan and the Marquis do
Crequi, with pale, downcast countenances, had struck a chill
into every heart. Still they lingered until near midnight, to
learn the result of the after application. At length the cabi
net conference was at an end. The Regent came forth, and sa
luted the high personages of the assemblage in a courtly man
ner. One old lady of quality, Madame de Guyon, whom he
had known in his infancy, he kissed on the cheek, calling her
his " good aunt." He made a most ceremonious salutation to
the stately Marchioness de Crequi, telling her he was charmed
to see her at the Palais Royal; " a compliment very ill-timed,"
said the Marchioness, ' ' considering the circumstance which
brought me there. " He then conducted the ladies to the door
of the second saloon, and there dismissed them, with the most
ceremonious politeness.
The application of the Prince de Ligne and the Duke de
Havre, for a change of the mode of punishment, had, after
much difficulty, been successful. The Regent had promised
solemnly to send a letter of commutation to the attorney-gen
eral on Holy Monday, the 25th of March, at five o'clock in the
morning. According to the same promise, a scaffold would be
arranged in the cloister of the Conciergerie, or prison, where
the Count would be beheaded on the same morning, imme
diately after having received absolution. This mitigation of
the form of punishment gave but little consolation to the great
body of petitioners, who had been anxious for the pardon of the
youth : it was looked upon as all-important, however, by the
166 WOLFtiUrs LuOS'l' AXi) M1&CELLANIE3.
Prince de Ligne, who, as has been before observed, was ex
quisitely alive to the dignity of his family.
The Bishop of Bayeux and the Marquis de Crequi visited the
unfortunate youth in prison. He had just received the com
munion in the chapel of the Conciergerie, and was kneeling
before the altar, listening to a mass for the dead, which was
performed at his request. He protested his innocence of any
intention to murder the Jew, but did not deign to allude to the
accusation of robbery. He made the bishop and the Marquis
promise to see his brother the prince, and inform him of this
his dying asseveration.
Two other of his relations, the Prince Rebecq-Montmorency
and the Marshal Van Isenghien, visited him secretly, and of
fered him poison, as a means of evading the disgrace of a public
execution. On his refusing to take it, they left him with high
indignation. " Miserable man !" said they, "you are fit only to
perish by the hand of the executioner 1"
The Marquis de Crequi sought the executioner of Paris, to
bespeak an easy and decent death for the unfortunate youth.
" Do not make him suffer," said he; " uncover no part of him
but the neck ; and have his body placed in a coffin, before you
deliver it to his family." The executioner promised all that was
requested, but declined a rouleau of a hundred louis-d'ors which
the Marquis would have put into his hand. ' ' I am paid by the
king for fulfilling my office," said he; and added that he had
already refused a like sum, offered by another relation of the
Marquis.
The Marquis de Crequi returned home in a state of deep afflic
tion. There he found a letter from the Duke de St. Simon, the
familiar friend of the Regent, repeating the promise of that
prince, that the punishment of the wheel should be commuted
to decapitation.
"Imagine," says the Marchioness de Cre"qui, who in her
memoirs gives a detailed account of this affair, " imagine what
we experienced, and what was our astonishment, our grief, and
indignation, when, on Tuesday, the 26th of March, an hour
after midday, word was brought us that the Count Van Horn
had been exposed on the wheel, in the Place de Greve, since
half-past six in the morning, on the same scaffold with the
Piedmontese de Mille, and that he had been tortured previous
to execution 1"
One more scene of aristocratic pride closed this tragic story.
The Marquis de Crequi, on receiving this astounding news, im-
THE COUNT VAN HORN. 157
mediately arrayed himself in the uniform of a general officer,
with his cordon of nobility on the coat. He ordered six valets
to attend him in grand livery, and two of his carriages, each
with six horses, to be brought forth. In this sumptuous state,
he set off for the Place de Greve, where he had been preceded
by the Princes de Ligne, de Rohan, de Croiiy, and the Duke
de Havre.
The Count Van Horn was already dead, and it was believed
that the executioner had had the charity to give him the coup
de grace, or " death-blow," at eight o'clock in the morning. At
five o'clock in the evening, when the Judge Commissary left
his post at the Hotel de Ville, these noblemen, with their own
hands, aided to detach the mutilated remains of their relation ;
the Marquis de Crequi placed them in one of his carriages, and
bore them off to his hotel, to receive the last sad obsequies.
The conduct of the Regent in this affair excited general
indignation. His needless severity was attributed by some to
vindictive jealousy ; by others to the persevering machinations
of Law. The house of Van Horn, and the high nobility of
Flanders and Germany, considered themselves flagrantly out
raged : many schemes of vengeance were talked of, and a hatred
engendered against the Regent, that followed him through life,
and was wreaked with bitterness upon his memory after his
death.
The following letter is said to have been written to the Regent
by the Prince Van Horn, to whom the former had adjudged
the confiscated effects of the Count :
"I do not complain, Sir, of the death of my brother, but I
complain that your Royal Highness has violated in his person
the rights of the kingdom, the nobility, and the nation. I thank
you for the confiscation of his effects ; but I should think my
self as much disgraced as he, should I accept any favor at your
hands. / hope that God and the King may render to you as
strict justice as you have rendered to my unfortunate brother."
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