part06-第3章

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caparisoned　in　correspondent　style；　with　velvet　and　embroidery。

　　All　this　minute　description；　given　by　a　contemporary；　and　an

author　of　distinction；　verifies　those　gallant　pictures　in　the　old

Morisco　Spanish　ballads　which　have　sometimes　been　deemed　apocryphal；

and　gives　a　vivid　idea　of　the　brilliant　appearance　of　the　chivalry

of　Granada；　when　marshalled　forth　in　warlike　array；　or　when

celebrating　the　chivalrous　fetes　of　the　Vivarrambla。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Generalife。



　　HIGH　ABOVE　the　Alhambra；　on　the　breast　of　the　mountain；　amidst

embowered　gardens　and　stately　terraces；　rise　the　lofty　towers　and

white　walls　of　the　Generalife；　a　fairy　palace；　full　of　storied

recollections。　Here　is　still　to　be　seen　the　famous　cypresses　of

enormous　size　which　flourished　in　the　time　of　the　Moors；　and　which

tradition　has　connected　with　the　fabulous　story　of　Boabdil　and　his

sultana。

　　Here　are　preserved　the　portraits　of　many　who　figured　in　the　romantic

drama　of　the　Conquest。　Ferdinand　and　Isabella；　Ponce　de　Leon；　the

gallant　marquis　of　Cadiz；　and　Garcilaso　de　la　Vega；　who　slew　in

desperate　fight　Tarfe　the　Moor；　a　champion　of　Herculean　strength。　Here

too　hangs　a　portrait　which　has　long　passed　for　that　of　the　unfortunate

Boabdil；　but　which　is　said　to　be　that　of　Aben　Hud；　the　Moorish　king

from　whom　descended　the　princes　of　Almeria。　From　one　of　these　princes；

who　joined　the　standard　of　Ferdinand　and　Isabella　towards　the　close　of

the　Conquest；　and　was　christianized　by　the　name　of　Don　Pedro　de

Granada　Venegas；　was　descended　the　present　proprietor　of　the　palace；

the　marquis　of　Campotejar。　The　proprietor；　however；　dwells　in　a

foreign　land；　and　the　palace　has　no　longer　a　princely　inhabitant。

　　Yet　here　is　every　thing　to　delight　a　southern　voluptuary：　fruits；

flowers；　fragrance；　green　arbors　and　myrtle　hedges；　delicate　air　and

gushing　waters。　Here　I　had　an　opportunity　of　witnessing　those　scenes

which　painters　are　fond　of　depicting　about　southern　palaces　and

gardens。　It　was　the　saint's　day　of　the　count's　daughter；　and　she　had

brought　up　several　of　her　youthful　companions　from　Granada；　to　sport

away　a　long　summer's　day　among　the　breezy　halls　and　bowers　of　the

Moorish　palaces。　A　visit　to　the　Generalife　was　the　morning's

entertainment。　Here　some　of　the　gay　company　dispersed　itself　in　groups

about　the　green　walks；　the　bright　fountains；　the　flights　of　Italian

steps；　the　noble　terraces　and　marble　balustrades。　Others；　among　whom　I

was　one；　took　their　seats　in　an　open　gallery　or　colonnade　commanding　a

vast　prospect；　with　the　Alhambra；　the　city；　and　the　Vega；　far　below；

and　the　distant　horizon　of　mountains…　a　dreamy　world；　all　glimmering

to　the　eye　in　summer　sunshine。　While　thus　seated；　the　all…pervading

tinkling　of　the　guitar　and　click　of　the　castanets　came　stealing　up

from　the　valley　of　the　Darro；　and　half　way　down　the　mountain　we

descried　a　festive　party　under　the　trees　enjoying　themselves　in　true

Andalusian　style；　some　lying　on　the　grass；　others　dancing　to　the

music。

　　All　these　sights　and　sounds；　together　with　the　princely　seclusion　of

the　place；　the　sweet　quiet　which　prevailed　around；　and　the　delicious

serenity　of　the　weather　had　a　witching　effect　upon　the　mind；　and

drew　from　some　of　the　company；　versed　in　local　story；　several　of　the

popular　fancies　and　traditions　connected　with　this　old　Moorish　palace；

they　were　〃such　stuff　as　dreams　are　made　of；〃　but　out　of　them　I　have

shaped　the　following　legend；　which　I　hope　may　have　the　good　fortune　to

prove　acceptable　to　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　superexcellence

which　they　perceived　in　him　in　his　very　infancy。　The　astrologers

countenanced　them　in　their　foresight；　predicting　every　thing　in　his

favor　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　dangers　would　be

averted；　and　his　life　thereafter　be　one　uninterrupted　course　of

felicity。

　　To　prevent　all　danger　of　the　kind；　the　king　wisely　determined　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　the　hill　above　the　Alhambra；　in　the

midst　of　delightful　gardens；　but　surrounded　by　lofty　walls；　being；

in　fact；　the　same　palace　known　at　the　present　day　by　the　name　of　the

Generalife。　In　this　palace　the　youthful　prince　was　shut　up；　and

intrusted　to　the　guardianship　and　instruction　of　Eben　Bonabben；　one　of

the　wisest　and　dryest　of　Arabian　sages；　who　had　passed　the　greatest

part　of　his　life　in　Egypt；　studying　hieroglyphics；　and　making

researches　among　the　tombs　and　pyramids；　and　who　saw　more　charms　in　an

Egyptian　mummy　than　in　the　most　tempting　of　living　beauties。　The

sage　was　ordered　to　instruct　the　prince　in　all　kinds　of　knowledge

but　one…　he　was　to　be　kept　utterly　ignorant　of　love。

　　〃Use　every　precaution　for　the　purpose　you　may　think　proper；〃　said

the　king；　〃but　remember；　O　Eben　Bonabben；　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　Bonabben　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　Eben　Bonabben；　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　counsellor。　He

suppressed　his　yawns；　and　listened　patiently　to　the　long　and　learned

discourses　of　Eben　Bonabben；　from　which　he　imbibed　a　smattering　of

various　kinds　of　knowledge；　and　thus　happily　attained　his　twentieth

year；　a　miracle　of　princely　wisdom…　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　various　accomplishments；　it　now

engrossed　a　great　part　of　his　time；　and　a　turn　for　poetry　became

apparent。　The　sage　Eben　Bonabben　took　the　alarm；　and　endeavored　to

work　these　idle　humors　out　of　him　by　a　severe　course　of　algebra；　but

the　prince　turned　from　it　with　distaste。　〃I　cannot　endure　algebra；〃

said　he；　〃it　is　an　abomination　to　me。　I　want　something　that　speaks

more　to　the　heart。〃

　　The　sage　Eben　Bonabben　shook　his　dry　head　at　the　words。　〃Here　is

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　Generalife　in　an

intoxication　of　feelings　of　which　he　knew　not　the　cause。　Sometimes

he　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　ejaculations。

　　By　degrees　this　loving　disposition　began　to　extend　to　inanimate

objects；　he　had　his　favorite　flowers；　which　he　cherished　with　tender