Gautier, Théophile, 1811-1872 -- Travel -- Spain; Spain -- Description and travel; Spain -- Social life and customs -- 19th century
The popular traditions collected by Washington Irving in his
"Tales of the Alhambra," now came into my mind; the stories of
the "Headless Horse" and of the "Hairy Phantom," gravely related
by Father Echeverria, appeared to me very probable, above all,
when the light was out. The likelihood of the legends appears
much greater in the night-time, when these dark places are filled
with uncertain reflections, which give to all objects of a vague
outline a fantastic appearance: doubt is the son of the day, faith
the daughter of the night; and what astonishes me is, that St.
Thomas believed in our Saviour after having felt his wound. I am
not sure that I myself did not see the Abencerrages walking about
in the moonlight, with their heads under their arms, along the
galleries; at all events, the shadows of the columns assumed forms
diabolically suspicious, and the breeze, as it passed through the
arcades, so resembled the breathing of a human being, that it made
you doubt.
One Sunday morning, about four or five o'clock, we felt ourselves,
while yet asleep, inundated on our mattresses with a fine and
soaking rain. This was owing to the conduits of the water-jets
having opened earlier than usual, in honour of a prince of Saxe
Coburg, who was come to view the Alhambra, and who, they said, was
to marry the young queen, as soon as she was of age.
We had scarcely time to rise and dress before the prince arrived,
with two or three persons of his suite. He was half mad with rage.
The keepers, in order to receive him in a proper manner, had fitted
to every fountain the most ridiculous pieces of mechanism and
hydraulic instruments imaginable. One of these inventions aimed,
by the means of a little white tin carriage and lead soldiers,
which were turned by the force of the water, at representing the
journey of the queen to Valencia. You may judge of the prince's
satisfaction at this ingenious and constitutional piece of
refinement. The _Fray Gerundio_, a satirical journal of Madrid,
persecuted this poor prince with marked animosity. It taxed him,
among other crimes, with haggling too much about the charges in his
hotel bills, and with having appeared at the theatre in the costume
of a _majo_, with a pointed hat on his head.
A party of Granadians came to spend the day at the Alhambra;
there were seven or eight young and pretty women, and five or six
cavaliers. They danced to the guitar, played at different games,
and sung in chorus, to a delightful air, a song by Fray Luis de
Leon, which has become very popular throughout Andalusia. As
the water-jets had stopped through having begun to shoot forth
their silver streams too early, and as the basins were dry, the
giddy young girls seated themselves in a round on the edge of the
alabaster basin of the Hall of the Two Sisters, so as to form a
kind of flower-basket, and, throwing back their pretty heads, again
took up simultaneously the burden of their song.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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