360 CREATURE COMFORTS. therefore, on my arrival, was the rehabilitation of the inner and outer man, for which I ordered a bath and dinner. Baths, that necessary luxury of hotels, have but recently been attached to the fondas of Spain, nor are now a general institution with them. They are procurable of course in cities and large towns; the Moors left them in every street and almost in every house; but in fondas even otherwise commendable, they are not yet generally prevalent. The Leon de Oro had lately introduced them. You pay in Spain an extra charge for soap, which is a monopoly, and consequently dear. With a bath and tolerable dinner, I found, like Candide, life very comfortable; but I concluded to make no perquisitions in Grenada till after a night's repose. The view from my chamber-window commanded a portion of the Alhambra. Its turrets under a mid-summer moon rose clear and distinct to my eye, and, after I had sought my couch, mingled their histories with my dreams. But neither the visions of the night nor the expectations of the morning interfered with my appetite for breakfast. I made a hearty meal upon tortillas y pescado, and café con leche, omelet, fish, and coffee. Then with a cigar de papel I started for the Alhambra. Following the banks of the Xenil, I entered the great square of the Vivarambla, famous in Moorish story, where the Abencerages and the Zegris so often indulged their death-feuds, and the monarch father and son, Muley Abul Hassan, and Boabdil, sought in unnatural strife each other's blood. Here still remain as they left them, some of the buildings of the Alcaceria -the former bazaar of the Moors-one entire row of houses with Spanish windows, being untouched even by time. Here formerly was the jezeed, or cast of the lance performed, and the combats of bulls-and here VERMILION TOWERS. 363 now are celebrated the pageantry of Pasos and Corpus Christi. On market days all kinds of booths and stalls crowd the square, making a rich display of grapes, figs, melons, and other tempting fruits. The arrowy Darro rushes through a stone arch beneath this square, and joins the expectant Xenil immediately beyond. Turning to the right, the red towers of the Alhambra emerged from their leafy environs, and chided my stay. I hastened forward up a steep hill which leads to the outer gate of the palace, called La Puerta de las Granadas, because sculptured pomegranates (granadas) cluster over it. It is a heavy, massive gateway, of Grecian architecture, built by Charles V. Under the arch sat long-bearded, long-cloaked beggars, beseeching, in a kind of mournful recitative, bread and alms— fit masters of ceremonies for introduction into a Spanish palace, I thought. From the entrance I passed common life into fairyland; I was in the midst of flowers and fountains, traversing a rounded pathway lined with tall elms, or loitering mid groves upon seats of marble. The towers of the Alhambra, embosomed high mid tufted trees, rose on my left, and on the right, starting from a rocky eminence the Torres Vermejos (the Vermilion Towers) greeted my sight. Their origin, like some towers of Windsor Castle, rests on fable; as the latter have been ascribed to Julius Cæsar, so have these to the Phenicians, and probably with equal justice. They gain nothing in beauty from near inspection. Their dingy red color and unsymmetrical proportions had nothing to detain me. "Guarda y pasa—take a look and go on"—is the proper treatment for them. The center walk leads to the public gardens of the Alhambra; that to the left to the palace itself, which I preferred. Passing along winding pathways, bordered always with trees whose interlinked branches excluded 364 RELICS OF THE MOORS. the sun, I reached a stone fountain, sculptured with the arms of Spain. It is fed from the Moorish tanks in the mountains above. The waters of the Darro and Xenil are drawn off in canals from reservoirs near their sources, and thus retain their original elevation over the citya work of course of the Moors. Out of the mouths of the sculptured river-gods-the Xenil, the Darro, and the Beira-the waters are discharged into the cistern, ever fresh and unstinted. Turning an abrupt angle from this spot, I faced a square, rudely-built Moorish tower, in front of which two or three soldiers were sitting or reclining, and smoking of course. It is called la Torre de Justicia, and, under the Moors, was the place where the alcalde dispensed the cheaper kind of justice to the lower class of people-summary if not always just, as can be seen by a reference to the "Arabian Nights." The Arabs brought this custom from their Eastern home, where it had prevailed from time immemorial. "Mordecai, the Jew, sat at the king's gate." The form of the entrance is the usual horse-shoe arch of the Moors. Over it is sculptured an open hand, which some consider as emblematic of the Oriental quality of hospitality, and others as a talisman against the "Evil Eye"-a superstition which the Moors bequeathed to the Spaniards, and from which the latter have, in our days, by no means recovered. Entering a covered vestibule, I encountered another arch, upon which a key was sculptured, whose original meaning, like that of the hand, has not survived the architect. Some say it has an occult religious purport, and others that it is merely a badge of honor, such as chamberlains wear in court; but Laborde, the distinguished French traveler, contends it had a mystical meaning,, indicating that the Christian could never gain possession |