THE HALL OF AMBASSADORS
 IN one of my visits to the old Moorish chamber where the good Tia Antonia cooks her dinner and receives her
company, I observed a mysterious door in one corner, leading apparently into the ancient part of the edifice.
My curiosity being aroused, I opened it, and found myself in a narrow, blind corridor, groping along which I
came to the head of a dark winding staircase, leading down an angle of the Tower of Comares. Down this
staircase I descended darkling, guiding myself by the wall until I came to a small door at the bottom,
throwing which open, I was suddenly dazzled by emerging into the brilliant antechamber of the Hall of
Ambassadors; with the fountain of the court of the Alberca sparkling before me. The antechamber is separated
from the court by an elegant gallery, supported by slender columns. At each end of the antechamber are
alcoves, and its ceiling is richly stuccoed and painted. Passing through a magnificent portal, I found myself
in the far-famed Hall of Ambassadors, the audience chamber of the Moslem monarchs. It is said to be
thirty-seven feet square, and sixty feet high; occupies the whole interior of the Tower of Comares; and still
bears the traces of past magnificence. The walls are beautifully
 stuccoed and decorated with Morisco
fancifulness; the lofty ceiling was originally of the same favorite material, with the usual frostwork and
pensile ornaments; which, with the embellishments of vivid coloring and gilding, must have been gorgeous in
the extreme. Unfortunately it gave way during an earthquake, and brought down with it an immense arch which
traversed the hall. It was replaced by the present vault or dome of larch or cedar, with, intersecting ribs,
the whole curiously wrought and richly colored; still Oriental in its character, reminding one of those
ceilings of cedar and vermilion that we read of in the Prophets and the Arabian Nights."
From the great height of the vault above the windows, the upper part of the hall is almost lost in obscurity;
yet there is a magnificence as well as solemnity in the gloom, as through it we have gleams of rich gilding
and the brilliant tints of the Moorish pencil.
The royal throne was placed opposite the entrance in a recess, which still bears an inscription intimating
that Yusef I. (the monarch who completed the Alhambra) made this the throne of his empire. Everything in this
noble hall seems to have been calculated to surround the throne with impressive dignity and splendor; there
was none of the elegant voluptuousness which reigns in other parts of the palace. The tower is of massive
strength, domineering, over the whole edifice and overhanging the steep hillside. On three sides of the Hall
of Ambassadors are windows cut through the immense thickness of the walls and commanding extensive prospects.
The balcony of the central window especially looks down upon the verdant valley of the Darro, with its walks,
its groves, and
 gardens. To the left it enjoys a distant prospect of the Vega; while directly in front rises the rival height
of the Albaycin, with its medley of streets, and terraces, and gardens, and once crowned by a fortress that
vied in power with the Alhambra. "Ill fated the man who lost all this!" exclaimed Charles V., as he looked
forth from this window upon the enchanting scenery it commands.
The balcony of the window where this royal exclamation was made, has of late become one of my favorite
resorts. I have just been seated there, enjoying the close of a long, brilliant day. The sun, as he sank
behind the purple mountains of Alhama, sent a stream of effulgence up the valley of the Darro, that spread a
melancholy pomp over the ruddy towers of the Alhambra; while the Vega, covered with a slight sultry vapor that
caught the setting ray, seemed spread out in the distance like a golden sea. Not a breath of air disturbed the
stillness of the hour, and though the faint sound of music and merriment now and then rose from the gardens of
the Darro, it but rendered more impressive the monumental silence of the pile which overshadowed me. It was
one of those hours and scenes in which memory asserts an almost magical power: and, like the evening sun
beaming on these mouldering towers, sends back her retrospective rays to light up the glories of the past.
As I sat watching the effect of the declining daylight upon this Moorish pile, I was led into a consideration
of the light, elegant, and voluptuous character prevalent throughout its internal architecture, and to
contrast it with the grand but gloomy solemnity of the Gothic edifices reared by the Spanish conquerors. The
very architecture thus bespeaks the opposite and irreconcilable
 natures of the two warlike people who so long battled here for the mastery of the Peninsula. By degrees I fell
into a course of musing upon the singular fortunes of the Arabian or Morisco-Spaniards, whose whole existence
is as a tale that is told, and certainly forms one of the most anomalous yet splendid episodes in history.
Potent and durable as was their dominion, we scarcely knew how to call them. They were a nation without a
legitimate country or name. A remote wave of the great Arabian inundation, cast upon the shores of Europe,
they seem to have all the impetus of the first rush of the torrent. Their career of conquest, from the rock of
Gibraltar to the cliffs of the Pyrenees, was as rapid and brilliant as the Moslem victories of Syria and
Egypt. Nay, had they not been checked on the plains of Tours,
all France, all Europe, might have been overrun with the same facility as the empires of the East, and the
at this day have glittered on the fanes of Paris and London.
Repelled within the limits of the Pyrenees, the mixed hordes of Asia and Africa, that formed this great
irruption, gave up the Moslem principle of conquest, and sought to establish in Spain a peaceful and permanent
dominion. As conquerors, their heroism was only equaled by their moderation; and in both, for a time, they
excelled the nations with whom they contended. Severed from their native homes, they loved the land given them
as they supposed by Allah,
and strove to embellish it with
every-  thing that could administer to the happiness of man. Laying the foundations of their power in a system of wise
and equitable laws, diligently cultivating the arts and sciences, and promoting agriculture, manufactures, and
commerce, they gradually formed an empire unrivalled for its prosperity by any of the empires of Christendom;
and diligently drawing round them the graces and refinements which marked the Arabian empire in the East, at
the time of its greatest civilization, they diffused the light of Oriental knowledge through the western
regions of benighted Europe.
The cities of Arabian Spain became the resort of Christian artisans, to instruct themselves in the useful
arts. The universities of Toledo, Cordova, Seville, and Granada were sought by the pale student from other
lands to acquaint himself with the sciences of the Arabs and the treasured lore of antiquity; the lovers of
the gay science resorted to Cordova and Granada, to imbibe the poetry and music of the East; and the
steel-clad warriors of the North hastened thither to accomplish themselves in the graceful exercises and
courteous usages of chivalry.
If the Moslem monuments in Spain, if the Mosque of Cordova, the Alcazar of Seville, and the Alhambra of
Granada, still bear inscriptions boasting of the power and permanency of their dominion, can the boast be
derided as arrogant and vain? Generation after generation, century after century, passed away, and still they
maintained possession of the land. A period elapsed longer than that which has passed since England was
subjugated by the Norman Conqueror, and the descendants of Musa and Taric
might as little anticipate being driven into exile
 across the same straits, traversed by their triumphant ancestors, as the descendants of Rollo and William, and
their veteran peers, may dream of being driven back to the shores of Normandy.
With all this, however, the Moslem empire in Spain was but a brilliant exotic, that took no permanent root in
the soil it embellished. Severed from all their neighbors in the West by impassable barriers of faith and
manners, and separated by seas and deserts from their kindred of the East, the Morisco-Spaniards were an
isolated people. Their whole existence was a prolonged, though gallant and chivalric struggle for a foothold
in a usurped land.
They were the outposts and frontiers of Islamism. The Peninsula was the great battle-ground where the Gothic
conquerors of the North and the Moslem conquerors of the East met and strove for mastery; and the fiery
courage of the Arab was at length subdued by the obstinate and persevering valor of the Goth.
Never was the annihilation of a people more complete than that of the Morisco-Spaniards. Where are they? Ask
the shores of Barbary and its desert places. The exiled remnant of their once powerful empire disappeared
among the barbarians of Africa, and ceased to be a nation. They have not even left a distinct name behind
them, though for nearly eight centuries they were a distinct people. The home of their adoption, and of their
occupation for ages, refuses to acknowledge them, except as invaders and usurpers. A few broken monuments are
all that remain to bear witness to their power and dominion, as solitary rocks, left far in the interior, bear
testimony to the extent of some vast inundation. Such is the
 Alhambra;—a Moslem pile in the midst of a Christian land; an Oriental palace amidst the Gothic edifices
of the West; an elegant memento of a brave, intelligent, and graceful people, who conquered, ruled,
flourished, and passed away.
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