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Page 31
I will quote again from the letters, for they reveal the man quite as
well as the more formal and better known writings. His first sight of
the Alhambra is given in a letter to Mademoiselle Bollviller:--
"Our journey through La Mancha was cold and uninteresting,
excepting when we passed through the scenes of some of the exploits
of Don Quixote. We were repaid, however, by a night amidst the
scenery of the Sierra Morena, seen by the light of the full moon. I
do not know how this scenery would appear in the daytime, but by
moonlight it is wonderfully wild and romantic, especially after
passing the summit of the Sierra. As the day dawned we entered the
stern and savage defiles of the Despe�a Perros, which equals the
wild landscapes of Salvator Rosa. For some time we continued
winding along the brinks of precipices, overhung with cragged and
fantastic rocks; and after a succession of such rude and sterile
scenes we swept down to Carolina, and found ourselves in another
climate. The orange-trees, the aloes, and myrtle began to make
their appearance; we felt the warm temperature of the sweet South,
and began to breathe the balmy air of Andalusia. At Andujar we were
delighted with the neatness and cleanliness of the houses, the
_patios_ planted with orange and citron trees, and refreshed by
fountains. We passed a charming evening on the banks of the famous
Guadalquivir, enjoying the mild, balmy air of a southern evening,
and rejoicing in the certainty that we were at length in this land
of promise....
"But Granada, _bellissima_ Granada! Think what must have been our
delight when, after passing the famous bridge of Pinos, the scene
of many a bloody encounter between Moor and Christian, and
remarkable for having been the place where Columbus was overtaken
by the messenger of Isabella, when about to abandon Spain in
despair, we turned a promontory of the arid mountains of Elvira,
and Granada, with its towers, its Alhambra, and its snowy
mountains, burst upon our sight! The evening sun shone gloriously
upon its red towers as we approached it, and gave a mellow tone to
the rich scenery of the vega. It was like the magic glow which
poetry and romance have shed over this enchanting place....
"The more I contemplate these places, the more my admiration is
awakened for the elegant habits and delicate taste of the Moorish
monarchs. The delicately ornamented walls; the aromatic groves,
mingling with the freshness and the enlivening sounds of fountains
and rivers of water; the retired baths, bespeaking purity and
refinement; the balconies and galleries, open to the fresh mountain
breeze, and overlooking the loveliest scenery of the valley of the
Darro and the magnificent expanse of the vega,--it is impossible to
contemplate this delicious abode and not feel an admiration of the
genius and the poetical spirit of those who first devised this
earthly paradise. There is an intoxication of heart and soul in
looking over such scenery at this genial season. All nature is just
teeming with new life, and putting on the first delicate verdure
and bloom of spring. The almond-trees are in blossom; the fig-trees
are beginning to sprout; everything is in the tender bud, the
young leaf, or the half-open flower. The beauty of the season is
but half developed, so that while there is enough to yield present
delight there is the flattering promise of still further enjoyment.
Good heavens! after passing two years amidst the sunburnt wastes of
Castile, to be let loose to rove at large over this fragrant and
lovely land!"
It was not easy, however, even in the Alhambra, perfectly to call up the
past:--
"The verity of the present checks and chills the imagination in its
picturings of the past. I have been trying to conjure up images of
Boabdil passing in regal splendor through these courts; of his
beautiful queen; of the Abencerrages, the Gomares, and the other
Moorish cavaliers, who once filled these halls with the glitter of
arms and the splendor of Oriental luxury; but I am continually
awakened from my reveries by the jargon of an Andalusian peasant
who is setting out rose-bushes, and the song of a pretty Andalusian
girl who shows the Alhambra, and who is chanting a little romance
that has probably been handed down from generation to generation
since the time of the Moors."
In another letter, written from Seville, he returns to the subject of
the Moors. He is describing an excursion to Alcala de la Guadayra:--
"Nothing can be more charming than the windings of the little river
among banks hanging with gardens and orchards of all kinds of
delicate southern fruits, and tufted with flowers and aromatic
plants. The nightingales throng this lovely little valley as
numerously as they do the gardens of Aranjuez. Every bend of the
river presents a new landscape, for it is beset by old Moorish
mills of the most picturesque forms, each mill having an embattled
tower,--a memento of the valiant tenure by which those gallant
fellows, the Moors, held this earthly paradise, having to be ready
at all times for war, and as it were to work with one hand and
fight with the other. It is impossible to travel about Andalusia
and not imbibe a kind feeling for those Moors. They deserved this
beautiful country. They won it bravely; they enjoyed it generously
and kindly. No lover ever delighted more to cherish and adorn a
mistress, to heighten and illustrate her charms, and to vindicate
and defend her against all the world than did the Moors to
embellish, enrich, elevate, and defend their beloved Spain.
Everywhere I meet traces of their sagacity, courage, urbanity, high
poetical feeling, and elegant taste. The noblest institutions in
this part of Spain, the best inventions for comfortable and
agreeable living, and all those habitudes and customs which throw a
peculiar and Oriental charm over the Andalusian mode of living may
be traced to the Moors. Whenever I enter these beautiful marble
_patios_, set out with shrubs and flowers, refreshed by fountains,
sheltered with awnings from the sun; where the air is cool at
noonday, the ear delighted in sultry summer by the sound of falling
water; where, in a word, a little paradise is shut up within the
walls of home, I think on the poor Moors, the inventors of all
these delights. I am at times almost ready to join in sentiment
with a worthy friend and countryman of mine whom I met in Malaga,
who swears the Moors are the only people that ever deserved the
country, and prays to Heaven that they may come over from Africa
and conquer it again."
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