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Visitors To The AlhambraVisitors To The Alhambra
Visitors To The Alhambra
For nearly three months had I enjoyed undisturbed my dream of sovereignty
in the Alhambra: a longer term of quiet than had been the lot of many of my
predecessors. During this lapse of time the progress of the season had
wrought the usual change. On my arrival I had found every thing in the
freshness of May; the foliage 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 flowers, and Granada seemed completely surrounded by a wilderness of
roses; among which innumerable nightingales sang, not merely in the night, but
all day long.
Now the advance of summer had withered the rose and silenced the
nightingale, and the distant country began to look parched and sunburnt;
though a perennial verdure reigned 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 subterranean 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
formerly 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 Morisco 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 ablutions,
reclined on 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 retired; the sanctum sanctorum of
female privacy; for here the beauties of the Harem indulged in the luxury of
the baths. A soft mysterious light reigns through the place, admitted through
small apertures (lumbreras) in the vaulted ceiling. The traces of ancient
elegance are still to be seen; and the alabaster baths in which the sultanas
once reclined. The prevailing obscurity and silence have made these vaults a
favorite 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 had the
freshness and seclusion of a grotto, I passed the sultry hours of the day as
summer advanced, emerging towards sunset, and bathing, or rather swimming, at
night in the great reservoir of the main court. In this way I was enabled in a
measure to counteract the relaxing and enervating influence of the climate.
My dream of absolute sovereignty, however, came at length to an end. I
was roused one morning 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 sportsman, was endeavoring 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 birds 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 changed essentially the aspect of
affairs, but caused no jealousy nor collision. We tacitly shared the empire
between us, like the last kings of Granada, excepting that we maintained a
most amicable alliance. He reigned absolute over the Court of the Lions and
its adjacent halls, while I maintained peaceful possession of the regions of
the baths and the little garden of Lindaraxa. We took our meals together under
the arcades of the court, where the fountains cooled the air, and bubbling
rills ran along the channels of the marble pavement.
In the evenings a domestic circle would gather about the worthy old
cavalier. The countess, his wife by a second marriage, would come up from the
city accompanied by her step-daughter Carmen an only child, a charming little
being, still in her girlish years. Then there were always some of his official
dependents, his chaplain, his lawyer, his secretary, his steward, and other
officers and agents of his extensive possessions, who brought him up the news
or gossip of the city, and formed his evening party of tresillo or ombre. Thus
he held a kind of domestic court, where each one paid him deference, and
sought to contribute to his amusement, without, however, any appearance of
servility, or any sacrifice of self-respect. In fact, nothing of the kind was
exacted by the demeanor of the count; for whatever may be said of Spanish
pride, it rarely chills or constrains the intercourse of social or domestic
life. Among no people are the relations between kindred more unreserved and
cordial, or between superior and dependent more free from haughtiness on the
one side, and obsequiousness on the other. In these respects there still
remains in Spanish life, especially in the provinces, much of the vaunted
simplicity of the olden time.
The most interesting member of this family group, in my eyes, was the
daughter of the count, the lovely little Carmen; she was but about sixteen
years of age, and appeared to be considered a mere child, though the idol of
the family, going generally by the child-like, but endearing appellation of la
Nina. Her form had not yet attained full maturity and development, but
possessed already the exquisite symmetry and pliant grace so prevalent in this
country. Her blue eyes, fair complexion, and light hair, were unusual in
Andalusia, and gave a mildness and gentleness to her demeanor in contrast to
the usual fire of Spanish beauty, but in unison with the guileless and
confiding innocence of her manners. She had at the same time the innate
aptness and versatility of her fascinating countrywomen. Whatever she
undertook to do she did well and apparently without effort. She sang, played
the guitar and other instruments, and danced the picturesque dances of her
country to admiration, but never seemed to seek admiration. Every thing was
spontaneous, prompted by her own gay spirits and happy temper.
The presence of this fascinating little being spread a new charm about
the Alhambra, and seemed to be in unison with the place. While the count and
countess, with the chaplain or secretary, were playing their game of tresillo
under the vestibule of the Court of Lions, she, attended by Dolores, who acted
as her maid of honor, would sit by one of the fountains, and accompanying
herself on the guitar, would sing some of those popular romances which
abound in Spain, or, what was still more to my taste, some traditional ballad
about the Moors.
Never shall I think of the Alhambra without remembering this lovely
little being, sporting in happy and innocent girlhood in its marble halls,
dancing to the sound of the Moorish castanets, or mingling the silver warbling
of her voice with the music of its fountains.
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