The Alhambra a series of tales and sketches of the Moors and Spaniards |
THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN
ASTROLOGER. |
 | THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN
ASTROLOGER. The Alhambra |  |
THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN
ASTROLOGER.
In old times, many hundred years ago, there
was a Moorish king named Aben Habuz, who
reigned over the kingdom of Granada. He was
a retired conqueror, that is to say, one who, having
in his more youthful days led a life of constant foray
and depredation, now that he was grown old
and superannuated, “languished for repose,” and
desired nothing more than to live at peace with all
the world, to husband his laurels, and to enjoy in
quiet the possessions he had wrested from his
neighbours.
It so happened, however, that this most reasonable
and pacific old monarch, had young rivals to deal
with—princes full of his early passion for fame
and fighting, and who had some scores to settle
also some turbulent and discontented districts of
his own territories among the Alpuxarra mountains,
which, during the days of his vigour, he had
treated with a high hand; and which, now that
he languished for repose, were prone to rise in rebellion
and to threaten to march to Granada and
drive him from his throne. To make the matter
worse, as Granada is surrounded by wild and
craggy mountains which hide the approach of an
enemy, the unfortunate Aben Habuz was kept in
a constant state of vigilance and alarm, not knowing
in what quarter hostilities might break out.
It was in vain that he built watch towers on
the mountains and stationed guards at every pass,
with orders to make fires by night, and smoke by
day, on the approach of an enemy. His alert
foes would baffle every precaution, and come
breaking out of some unthought-of defile,—ravage
his lands beneath his very nose, and then make off
with prisoners and booty to the mountains. Was
ever peaceable and retired conqueror in a more
uncomfortable predicament!
While the pacific Aben Habuz was harassed by
these perplexities and molestations, an ancient Arabian
physician arrived at his court. His gray
beard descended to his girdle, and he had every
the whole way from Egypt on foot, with no other
aid than a staff marked with hieroglyphics. His
fame had preceded him. His name was Ibrahim
Ebn Abu Ayub; he was said to have lived ever
since the days of Mahomet, and to be the son of
Abu Ayub, the last of the companions of the prophet.
He had, when a child, followed the conquering
army of Amru into Egypt, where he had
remained many years studying the dark sciences,
and particularly magic, among the Egyptian
priests. It was moreover said that he had found
out the secret of prolonging life, by means of
which he had arrived to the great age of upwards
of two centuries; though, as he did not discover
the secret until well stricken in years, he could
only perpetuate his gray hairs and wrinkles.
This wonderful old man was very honourably
entertained by the king; who, like most superannuated
monarchs, began to take physicians into great
favour. He would have assigned him an apartment
in his palace, but the astrologer preferred a
cave in the side of the hill, which rises above the
city of Granada, being the same on which the Alhambra
has since been built. He caused the cave
to be enlarged so as to form a spacious and lofty
as through a well, he could see the heavens and
behold the stars even at mid-day. The walls of
this hall were covered with Egyptian hieroglyphics,
with cabalistic symbols, and with the figures of
the stars in their signs. This hall he furnished
with many implements, fabricated under his direction
by cunning artificers of Granada, but the occult
properties of which were only known to himself.
In a little while the sage Ibrahim became
the bosom counsellor of the king, to whom he applied
for advice in every emergency. Aben Habuz
was once inveighing against the injustice of his
neighbours, and bewailing the restless vigilance he
had to observe to guard himself against their invasions;—when
he had finished, the astrologer re-mainedsilent
for a moment and then replied, “Know,
O king, that when I was in Egypt I beheld a great
marvel devised by a pagan priestess of old. On
a mountain above the city of Borsa, and overlooking
the great valley of the Nile, was a figure of
a ram, and above it a figure of a cock, both of
molten brass and turning upon a pivot. Whenever
the country was threatened with invasion, the
ram would turn in the direction of the enemy and
the cock would crow; upon this the inhabitants of
from which it was approaching, and could take
timely notice to guard against it.
“God is great!” exclaimed the pacific Aben Habuz,
“what a treasure would be such a ram to
keep an eye upon these mountains around me, and
then such a cock to crow in time of danger! Allah
Achbar! how securely I might sleep in my palace
with such sentinels on the top!”
“Listen, O king,” continued the astrologer, gravely:
“When the victorious Amru (God's peace be
upon him!) conquered the city of Borsa, this talisman
was destroyed; but I was present, and examined
it, and studied its secret and mystery, and
can make one of like, and even of greater virtues.”
“O wise son of Abu Ayub,” cried Aben Habuz,
“better were such a talisman than all the watch-towers
on the hills, and sentinels upon the borders.
Give me such a safeguard, and the riches of my
treasury are at thy command.”
The astrologer immediately set to work to gratify
the wishes of the monarch, shutting himself up in
his astrological hall, and exerting the necromantic
arts he had learnt in Egypt, he summoned to his assistance
the spirits and demons of the Nile. By his
command they transported to his presence a mummy
from a sepulchral chamber in the centre of
priest who had aided by magic art in rearing that
stupendous pile.
The astrologer opened the outer cases of the
mummy, and unfolded its many wrappers. On the
breast of the corpse was a book written in Chaldaic
characters. He seized it with trembling hand,
then returning the mummy to its case, ordered the
demons to transport it again to its dark and silent
sepulchre in the Pyramid, there to await the final
day of resurrection and judgment.
This book, say the traditions, was the book of
knowledge given by God to Adam after his fall.
It had been handed down from generation to generation,
to king Solomon the Wise, and by the
aid of the wonderful secrets in magic and art revealed
in it, he had built the temple of Jerusalem.
How it had come into the possession of the builder
of the Pyramids, He only knows who knows all
things.
Instructed by this mystic volume, and aided by
the genii which it subjected to his command, the
astrologer soon erected a great tower upon the top
of the palace of Aben Habuz, which stood on the
brow of the hill of the Albaycin. The tower was
built of stones brought from Egypt, and taken, it
is said, from one of the Pyramids. In the upper
looking toward every point of the compass,
and before each window was a table, on which
was arranged, as on a chess-board, a mimic army
of horse and foot, with the effigy of the potentate
that ruled in that direction; all carved of wood.
To each of these tables there was a small lance,
no bigger than a bodkin, on which were engraved
certain mysterious Chaldaic characters. This hall
was kept constantly closed by a gate of brass with
a great lock of steel, the key of which was in possession
of the king.
On the top of the tower was a bronze figure of
a Moorish horseman, fixed on a pivot, with a shield
on one arm, and his lance elevated perpendicularly.
The face of this horseman was towards the city,
as if keeping guard over it; but if any foe were at
hand, the figure would turn in that direction and
would level the lance as if for action.
When this talisman was finished, Aben Habuz
was all impatient to try its virtues; and longed as
ardently for an invasion as he had ever sighed after
repose. His desire was soon gratified. Tidings
were brought early one morning, by the sentinel
appointed to watch the tower, that the face of
the brazen horseman was turned towards the
against the pass of Lopè.
“Let the drums and trumpets sound to arms,
and all Granada be put on the alert,”—said Aben
Habuz.
“O king,” said the astrologer, “let not your
city be disquieted, nor your warriors called to
arms; we need no aid of force to deliver you
from your enemies. Dismiss your attendants and
let us proceed alone to the secret hall of the
tower.”
The ancient Aben Habuz mounted the staircase
of the tower, leaning on the arm of the still more
ancient Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub. They unlocked
the brazen door and entered. The window that
looked towards the pass of Lopè was open. “In
this direction,” said the astrologer, “lies the danger
—approach, O king, and behold the mystery of
the table.”
King Aben Habuz approached the seeming chess-board,
on which were arranged the small wooden
effigies; when lo! they were all in motion. The
horses pranced and curveted, the warriors brandished
their weapons, and there was a faint sound
of drums and trumpets, and a clang of arms and
neighing of steeds, but all no louder, nor more distinct,
drowsy ear of him who lies at noon-tide in the
shade.
“Behold, O king,” said the astrologer, “a proof
that thy enemies are even now in the field. They
must be advancing through yonder mountains by
the pass of Lopè. Would you produce a panic
and confusion amongst them, and cause them to
abandon their enterprise and retreat without loss
of life, strike these effigies with the butt end of
this magic lance; but would you cause bloody
feud and carnage among them, strike with the
point.”
A livid streak passed across the countenance of
the pacific Aben Habuz; he seized the mimic
lance with trembling eagerness, and tottered towards
the table; his gray beard wagged with
chuckling exultation. “Son of Abu Ayub,” exclaimed
he, “I think we will have a little blood!”
So saying he thrust the magic lance into some
of the pigmy effigies, and belaboured others with
the butt end; upon which the former fell, as
dead, upon the board, and the rest turning upon
each other, began pell-mell, a chance medley
fight.
It was with difficulty the astrologer could stay
the hand of the most pacific of monarchs, and prevent
At length he prevailed upon him to leave the tower,
and to send out scouts to the mountains by the
pass of Lopè.
They returned with the intelligence that a
Christian army had advanced through the heart
of the Sierra, almost within sight of Granada,
when a dissension having broken out among them,
they had turned their weapons against each other,
and after much slaughter, had retreated over the
border.
Aben Habuz was transported with joy on thus
proving the efficacy of the talisman. “At length,”
said he, “I shall lead a life of tranquillity, and have
all my enemies in my power. Oh! wise son of
Abu Ayub, what can I bestow on thee in reward
for such a blessing?”
“The wants of an old man and a philosopher, O
king, are few and simple—grant me but the means
of fitting up my cave as a suitable hermitage, and
I am content.”
“How noble is the moderation of the truly
wise!” exclaimed Aben Habuz, secretly pleased at
the cheapness of the recompense. He summoned
his treasurer, and bade him dispense whatever
sums might be required by Ibrahim to complete
and furnish his hermitage.
The astrologer now gave orders to have various
chambers hewn out of the solid rock, so as to form
ranges of apartments connected with his astrological
hall. These he caused to be furnished with
luxurious ottomans and divans; and the walls to be
hung with the richest silks of Damascus. “I am
an old man,” said he, “and can no longer rest my
bones on stone couches; and these damp walls require
covering.”
He also had baths constructed and provided with
all kinds of perfumery and aromatic oils; “for a
bath,” said he, “is necessary to counteract the rigidity
of age, and to restore freshness and suppleness
to the frame withered by study.”
He caused the apartments to be hung with innumerable
silver and crystal lamps, which he
filled with a fragrant oil prepared according to
a receipt discovered by him in the tombs of Egypt.
This oil was perpetual in its nature, and diffused a
soft radiance like the tempered light of day.
“The light of the sun,” said he, “is too garish
and violent for the eyes of an old man; and the
light of the lamp is more congenial to the studies
of a philosopher.”
The treasurer of King Aben Habuz groaned at
the sums daily demanded to fit up this hermitage,
and he carried his complaints to the king. The
shrugged his shoulders.—“We must have patience,”
said he; “this old man has taken his idea
of a philosophic retreat from the interior of the
Pyramids and the vast ruins of Egypt; but all things
have an end, and so will the furnishing of his cavern.”
The king was in the right, the hermitage was
at length complete and formed a sumptuous subterranean
palace. “I am now content,” said Ibrahim
Ebn Abu Ayub, to the treasurer; “I will shut
myself up in my cell and devote my time to study.
I desire nothing more,—nothing,—except a trifling
solace to amuse me at the intervals of mental labour.”
“Oh! wise Ibrahim, ask what thou wilt; I am bound
to furnish all that is necessary for thy solitude.”
“I would fain have then a few dancing women,”
said the philosopher.”
“Dancing women!” echoed the treasurer with
surprise.
“Dancing women,” replied the sage, gravely: “a
few will suffice; for I am an old man and a philosopher,
of simple habits and easily satisfied. Let
them, however, be young and fair to look upon—
for the sight of youth and beauty is refreshing to
old age.”
While the philosophic Ibrahim Ebn Ayub
passed his time thus sagely in his hermitage, the
pacific Aben Habuz carried on furious campaigns
in effigy in his tower. It was a glorious thing for
an old man like himself, of quiet habits, to have
war made easy, and to be enabled to amuse himself
in his chamber by brushing away whole armies
like so many swarms of flies. For a time he
rioted in the indulgence of his humours, and even
taunted and insulted his neighbours to induce them
to make incursions; but by degrees they grew
wary from repeated disasters, until no one ventured
to invade his territories. For many months
the bronze horseman remained on the peace establishment
with his lance elevated in the air, and
the worthy old monarch began to repine at the
want of his accustomed sport, and to grow peevish
at his monotonous tranquillity.
At length, one day, the talismanic horseman
veered suddenly round, and, lowering his lance,
made a dead point towards the mountains of Guadix.
Aben Habuz hastened to his tower, but the magic
table in that direction remained quiet—not a single
warrior was in motion. Perplexed at the circumstance,
he sent forth a troop of horse to scour
the mountains and reconnoitre. They returned
after three days' absence. Rodovan, the captain
searched every mountain pass,” said he, “but not
a helm or spear was stirring. All that we have
found in the course of our foray was a Christian
damsel of surpassing beauty, sleeping at noon tide
beside a fountain, whom we have brought away
captive.”
“A damsel of surpassing beauty!” exclaimed
Aben Habuz, his eyes gleaming with animation:
“let her be conducted into my presence.” “Pardon
me, O king!” replied Rodovan, “but our warfare
at present is scanty; and yields but little harvest.
I had hoped this chance gleaning would
have been allowed for my services.
“Chance gleaning!” cried Aben Habuz, “What!
—a damsel of surpassing beauty! By the head of
my father! it is the choice fruits of warfare, only
to be garnered up into the royal keeping.—Let
the damsel be brought hither instantly.”
The beautiful damsel was accordingly conducted
into his presence. She was arrayed in the Gothic
style, with all the luxury of ornament that had
prevailed among the Gothic Spaniards at the time
of the Arabian conquest. Pearls of dazzling
whiteness were entwined with her raven tresses;
and jewels sparkled on her forehead, rivalling
the lustre of her eyes. Around her neck was a
which hung by her side.
The flashes of her dark refulgent eye were like
sparks of fire on the withered, yet combustible
breast of Aben Habuz, and set it in a flame.
The swimming voluptuousness of her gait made
his senses reel. “Fairest of women,” cried he,
with rapture, “who and what art thou?”—
“The daughter of one of the Gothic princes
who lately ruled over this land. The armies of
my father have been destroyed as if by magic
among these mountains, he has been driven into
exile, and his daughter is a slave.”
“Be comforted, beautiful princess—thou art no
longer a slave, but a sovereign; turn thine eyes
graciously upon Aben Habuz, and reign over him
and his dominions.”
“Beware, O king,” whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu
Ayub; “this may be some spirit conjured up by
the magicians of the Goths, and sent for thy undoing.
Or it may be one of those northern sorceresses,
who assume the most seducing forms to beguile
the unwary. Methinks I read witchcraft in
her eye, and sorcery in every movement. Let my
sovereign beware—this must be the enemy pointed
out by the talisman.” “Son of Abu Ayub,” replied
the king, “you are a wise man and a conjuror,
of woman. In the knowledge of the sex, I will
yield to no man; no, not to the wise Solomon himself,
notwithstanding the number of his wives and
his concubines. As to this damsel, I see much
comfort in her for my old days, even such comfort
as David, the father of Solomon, found in the society
of Abishag the Shunamite.”
“Hearken, O king,” rejoined the astrologer, suddenly
changing his tone—“I have given thee
many triumphs over thy enemies, and by means of
my talisman, yet thou hast never given me share
of the spoils; grant me this one stray captive to solace
me in my retirement, and I am content.”
“What!” cried Aben Habuz, “more women!
hast thou not already dancing women to solace
thee—what more wouldst thou desire.”
“Dancing women, have I, it is true; but I have
none that sing; and music is a balm to old age—
This captive, I perceive, beareth a silver lyre, and
must be skilled in minstrelsy. Give her to me, I
pray thee, to sooth my senses after the toil of
study.”
The ire of the pacific monarch was kindled, and
he loaded the philosopher with reproaches. The
latter retired indignantly to his hermitage; but ere
he departed, he again warned the monarch to beware
the old man in love that will listen to counsel?
Aben Habuz had felt the full power of the witchery
of the eye, and the sorcery of movement, and
the more he gazed, the more he was enamoured.
He resigned himself to the full sway of his passions.
His only study, was how to render himself
amiable in the eyes of the Gothic beauty. He had
not youth, it is true, to recommend him, but then
he had riches; and when a lover is no longer young,
he becomes generous. The Zacatin of Granada,
was ransacked for the most precious merchandise
of the East. Silks, jewels, precious gems and exquisite
perfumes, all that Asia and Africa yielded
of rich and rare, were lavished upon the princess.
She received all as her due, and regarded them
with the indifference of one accustomed to magnificence.
All kinds of spectacles and festivities
were devised for her entertainment; minstrelsy,
dancing, tournaments, bull-fights.—Granada, for a
time, was a scene of perpetual pageant. The
Gothic princess seemed to take a delight in causing
expense, as if she sought to drain the treasures of
the monarch. There were no bounds to her caprice,
or to the extravagance of her ideas. Yet,
notwithstanding all this munificence, the venerable
had made any impression on her heart. She never
frowned on him, it is true, but she had a singular
way of baffling his tender advances. Whenever
he began to plead his passion, she struck her silver
lyre. There was a mystic charm in the sound:
on hearing of it, an irresistible drowsiness seized
upon the superannuated lover, he fell asleep, and
only woke, when the temporary fumes of passion
had evaporated. Still the dream of love had a
bewitching power over his senses; so he continued
to dream on; while all Granada scoffed at his infatuation,
and groaned at the treasures lavished
for a song.
At length a danger burst over the head of Aben
Habuz, against which, his talisman yielded him no
warning. A rebellion broke out in the very heart
of his capital; headed by the bold Rodovan. Aben
Habuz was, for a time, besieged in his palace, and
it was not without the greatest difficulty that he
repelled his assailants and quelled the insurrection.
He now felt himself compelled once more to resort
to the assistance of the astrologer. He found
him still shut up in his hermitage, chewing the cud
of resentment. “O wise son of Abu Ayub,” said
come to pass. This Gothic princess has brought
trouble and danger upon me.”
“Is the king then disposed to put her away from
him?” said the astrologer with animation.
“Sooner would I part with my kingdom!” replied
Aben Habuz.
“What then is the need of disturbing me in my
philosophical retirement?” said the astrologer, peevishly.
“Be not angry, O sagest of philosophers. I
would fain have one more exertion of thy magic
art. Devise some means by which I may be secure
from internal treason, as well as outward
war—some safe retreat, where I may take refuge
and be at peace.
The astrologer ruminated for a moment, and a
subtle gleam shone from his eye under his bushy
eye-brows.
“Thou hast heard, no doubt, O king,” said he,
“of the palace and garden of Irem, whereof mention
is made in that chapter of the Koran entitled
`the dawn of day.”'
“I have heard of that garden,—marvellous
things are related of it by the pilgrims who visit
Mecca, but I have thought them wild fables, such
“Listen, O king, and thou shalt know the mystery
of that garden. In my younger days I was
in Arabia the Happy, tending my father's camels.
One of them strayed away from the rest, and was
lost. I searched for it for several days about the
deserts of Aden, until wearied and faint, I laid
myself down and slept under a palm tree by the
side of a scanty well. When I awoke, I found
myself at the gate of a city. I entered and beheld
noble streets and squares and market places,
but all were silent and without an inhabitant. I
wandered on until I came to a sumptuous palace,
with a garden adorned with fountains and fish-ponds;
and groves and flowers; and orchards laden
with delicious fruit; but still no one was to be
seen. Upon which, appalled at this loneliness, I
hastened to depart, and, after issuing forth at the
gate of the city, I turned to look upon the place,
but it was no longer to be seen, nothing but the
silent desert extended before my eyes.
In the neighbourhood I met with an aged dervise,
learned in the traditions and secrets of the
land, and related to him what had befallen me.
`This,' said he, `is the far famed garden of Irem,
at times to some wanderer like thyself, gladdening
him with the sight of towers and palaces, and garden
walls overhung with richly laden fruit trees,
and then vanishes, leaving nothing but a lonely
desert.—And this is the story of it:—In old times,
when this country was inhabited by the Addiles,
king Sheddad, the son of Ad, the great grandson
of Noah, founded here a splendid city. When
it was finished, and he saw its grandeur, his
heart was puffed up with pride and arrogance,
and he determined to build a royal palace, with
gardens that should rival all that was related
in the Koran of the celestial paradise. But the
curse of heaven fell upon him for his presumption.
He and his subjects were swept from the earth,
and his splendid city, and palace, and garden, were
laid under a perpetual spell, that hides them from
the human sight, excepting that they are seen at
intervals; by way of keeping his sin in perpetual
remembrance.'
“This story, O king, and the wonders I had seen,
ever dwell in my mind, and, in after years, when
I had been in Egypt and made myself master of all
kinds of magic spells, I determined to return and
visit the garden of Irem. I did so, and found it
revealed to my instructed sight. I took possession
in his mock paradise. The genii who watch over
the place, were obedient to my magic power, and
revealed to me the spells by which the whole garden
had been, as it were, conjured into existence,
and by which it was rendered invisible. Such
spells, O king, are within the scope of my art.
What sayest thou? Wouldst thou have a palace
and garden like those of Irem, filled with all manner
of delights, but hidden from the eyes of mortals?”
“O, wise son of Abu Ayub,” exclaimed Aben
Habuz, trembling with eagerness—“Contrive me
such a paradise, and ask any reward, even to the
half of my kingdom.”
“Alas,” replied the other, “thou knowest I am
an old man, and a philosopher, and easily satisfied;
all the reward I ask, is the first beast of burden,
with its load, that shall enter the magic portal
of the palace.”
The monarch gladly agreed to so moderate a
stipulation, and the astrologer began his work. On
the summit of the hill immediately above his subterranean
hermitage he caused a great gateway
or barbican to be erected; opening through the
centre of a strong tower. There was an outer
vestibule or porch with a lofty arch, and within
key stone of the portal the astrologer with his own
hand, wrought the figure of a huge key, and on
the key-stone of the outer arch of the vestibule,
which was loftier than that of the portal, he
carved a gigantic hand. These were potent talismans,
over which he repeated many sentences in
an unknown tongue.
When this gateway was finished, he shut himself
up for two days in his astrological hall, engaged
in secret incantations: on the third he ascended
the hill, and passed the whole day on its
summit. At a late hour of the night he came
down and presented himself before Aben Habuz.
“At length, O king,” said he, “my labour is accomplished.
On the summit of the hill stands one of
the most delectable palaces that ever the head of
man devised, or the heart of man desired. It contains
sumptuous halls and galleries, delicious gardens,
cool fountains and fragrant baths; in a word,
the whole mountain is converted into a paradise.
Like the garden of Irem, it is protected by a mighty
charm, which hides it from the view and search of
mortals, excepting such as possess the secret of its
talismans.”
“Enough,” cried Aben Habuz, joyfully; “tomorrow
and take possession.” The happy monarch scarcely
slept that night. Scarcely had the rays of the
sun begun to play about the snowy summit of the
Sierra Nevada, when he mounted his steed, and
accompanied only by a few chosen attendants ascended
a steep and narrow road leading up the hill.
Beside him, on a white palfrey, rode the Gothic
princess, her dress sparkling with jewels, while
round her neck was suspended her silver lyre.
The astrologer walked on the other side of the
king, assisting his steps with his hieroglyphic staff,
for he never mounted steed of any kind.
Aben Habuz looked to see the towers of the
promised palace brightening above him, and the
embowered terraces of its gardens stretching along
the heights, but as yet, nothing of the kind was to
be descried. “That is the mystery and safeguard
of the place,” said the astrologer, “nothing can be
discerned until you have passed the spell-bound
gateway, and been put in possession of the place.”
As they approached the gateway, the astrologer
paused, and pointed out to the king the mystic
hand and key carved upon the portal and the
arch. “These,” said he, “are the talismans which
guard the entrance to this paradise. Until yonder
mortal power, nor magic artifice, can prevail
against the lord of this mountain.”
While Aben Habuz was gazing with open mouth
and silent wonder at these mystic talismans, the
palfrey of the princess proceeded on, and bore her
in at the portal, to the very centre of the barbican.
“Behold,” cried the astrologer, “my promised
reward!—the first animal with its burden, that
should enter the magic gateway.”
Aben Habuz smiled at what he considered a
pleasantry of the ancient man; but when he found
him to be in earnest, his gray beard trembled with
indignation.
“Son of Abu Ayub,” said he, sternly, “what
equivocation is this? Thou knowest the meaning
of my promise, the first beast of burden, with its
load, that should enter this portal. Take the
strongest mule in my stables, load it with the most
precious things of my treasury, and it is thine; but
dare not to raise thy thoughts to her, who is the
delight of my heart.”
“What need I of wealth,” cried the astrologer,
scornfully; “have I not the book of knowledge of
Solomon the Wise, and through it, the command
of the secret treasures of the earth? The princess
her as my own.”
The princess sat upon her palfrey, in the pride
of youth and beauty, and a light smile of scorn
curled her rosy lip, at this dispute, between two gray
beards for her charms. The wrath of the monarch
got the better of his discretion. “Base son of the
desert,” cried he, “thou mayest be master of many
arts, but know me for thy master—and presume
not to juggle with thy king.”
“My master!” echoed the astrologer, “my
king! The monarch of a mole-hill to claim sway
over him who possesses the talismans of Solomon.
Farewell, Aben Habuz; reign over thy petty kingdom,
and revel in thy paradise of fools—for me, I
will laugh at thee in my philosophic retirement.
So saying, he seized the bridle of the palfrey,
smote the earth with his staff, and sank with the
Gothic princess through the centre of the barbican.
The earth closed over them, and no trace remained
of the opening by which they had descended. Aben
Habuz was struck dumb for a time with astonishment.
Recovering himself, he ordered a thousand
workmen to dig with pickaxe and spade into the
ground where the astrologer had disappeared.
They digged and digged, but in vain; the flinty
bosom of the hill resisted their implements; or if
again as fast as they threw it out. Aben Habuz
sought the mouth of the cavern at the foot of the
hill, leading to the subterranean palace of the astrologer,
but it was no where to be found: where
once had been an entrance, was now a solid surface
of primeval rock. With the disappearance
of Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub ceased the benefit of
his talismans. The bronze horseman remained
fixed with his face turned toward the hill, and his
spear pointed to the spot where the astrologer had
descended, as if there still lurked the deadliest foe
of Aben Habuz. From time to time the sound of
music and the tones of a female voice could be
faintly heard from the bosom of the hill, and a peasant
one day brought word to the king, that in the
preceding night he had found a fissure in the
rock, by which he had crept in until he looked
down into a subterranean hall, in which sat the
astrologer on a magnificent divan, slumbering and
nodding to the silver lyre of the princess, which
seemed to hold a magic sway over his senses.
Aben Habuz sought for the fissure in the rock,
but it was again closed. He renewed the attempt
to unearth his rival, but all in vain. The
spell of the hand and key was too potent to be
counteracted by human power. As to the summit
and garden, it remained a naked waste: either the
boasted Elysium was hidden from sight by enchantment,
or was a mere fable of the astrologer.
The world charitably supposed the latter, and
some used to call the place, “the king's folly,”
while others named it, “the fool's Paradise.”
To add to the chagrin of Aben Habuz, the
neighbours, whom he had defied and taunted, and
cut up at his leisure, while master of the talismanic
horseman, finding him no longer protected by
magic spell, made inroads into his territories from
all sides, and the remainder of the life of the most
pacific of monarchs, was a tissue of turmoils.
At length, Aben Habuz died and was buried.
Ages have since rolled away. The Alhambra
has been built on the eventful mountain, and in
some measure realizes the fabled delights of the
garden of Irem. The spell-bound gateway still
exists, protected, no doubt, by the mystic hand and
key, and now forms the gate of justice, the grand
entrance to the fortress. Under that gateway, it
is said, the old astrologer remains in his subterraranean
hall; nodding on his divan, lulled by the
silver lyre of the princess.
The old invalid sentinels, who mount guard at
the gate, hear the strains occasionally in the summer
doze quietly at their posts. Nay, so drowsy an
influence pervades the place, that even those who
watch by day, may generally be seen nodding on
the stone benches of the barbican, or sleeping under
the neighbouring trees; so that it is, in fact, the
drowsiest military post in all Christendom. All
this, say the ancient legends, will endure; from
age to age the princess will remain captive to the
astrologer, and the astrologer bound up in magic
slumber by the princess, until the last day; unless
the mystic hand shall grasp the fated key, and
dispel the whole charm of this enchanted mountain.
| THE LEGEND OF THE ARABIAN
ASTROLOGER. The Alhambra | |