Selecta
The Household Tía Antonia e Dolores, p. 55
The House of the Weather Cock
Legend of the arabian Astrologer
The Tower of las Infantas
Legend of the three Beautiful Princesses
Visitors to the Alhambra
Tales of the Alhambra
Ir de Sevilha a Granada, como foram os dois
companheiros, um, americano; o outro, russo, naquela maneira lenta e longa, que
permite conviver com as coisas, deixar-se absorver por elas ou absorvê-las, ver
fortalezas outrora mouriscas, que parece das suas seteiras vigiarem, ainda,
como águias no alto dos montes, os movimentos dos cristãos em tempo de guerra;
ir vendo cruzes pelos caminhos, aqui e ali, sinais de roubo ou assassínio,
imaginar algum bandolero espreitando, touros olhando das
suas alturas rochosas, mugindo baixo, encontrar uma caravana de arrieiros de
muares nalgum passo de montanha, com o trabuco sempre a postos,
deixando entrever a insegurança da estrada...; -- tudo isto é tão diferente da
rapidez dos nossos dias, na comodidade de algumas horas de autocarro!
O guia biscainho, um rapaz de vinte anos,
alegre, confiável, bom coração, um enorme trabuco pendurado atrás da sela
(geralmente descarregado).
Os dois companheiros iam na disposição de estar
satisfeitos, o ideal para conhecer pessoas e lugares. A lentidão, a distância
podem ser uma bênção para o viajante.
Vai, aqui, uma selecção incompleta, com breves
palavras minhas, a acompanhar, de longe em longe. Alguns capítulos comparecem
apenas, através do título. As histórias são uma delícia. Fiquei fã de Mateo
Jiménez («o filho da Alambra»), do aguadeiro galego, do pai da Sanchica, do
humor que Irving deixa cair sobre o (não) silêncio da mulher de Pero Gil e da
do pequeno Lope Sánchez, «a merry little fellow». E a lenda do Príncipe Ahmed
al Kamel, o peregrino do Amor! E mais... E a Rosa da Alambra? E mais...
Irving deixa a Alambra. Vai pelos caminhos
de Boabdil, El Rey Chico, ele mesmo El Rey Chico, o
Segundo.
«A pouca distância para o norte de Granada, a estrada sobe gradualmente as
colinas; aqui, apeei-me e fui caminhando lentamente com Manuel que aproveitou o
ensejo para me confidenciar o segredo do seu coração e de todos os ternos assuntos
entre ele próprio e Dolores [...]»,
de que Irving já sabia tudo por Mateo…, «o filho da Alambra» que tudo sabia
e tudo revelava, «the all-knowing and all-revealing Mateo Jiménez».
A despedida é triste. Manuel e Mateo
descem, agora, a colina. Manuel ainda tem boas perspectivas a consolá-lo, mas
Mateo vai arrasado, perdendo o convívio de alguém que lhe dava importância,
perdendo posição; Irving também vai triste, pois não podia então antecipar que
Mateo veio a ser cicerone regular e bem pago da Alambra, de modo que nunca
voltou a retomar a situação em que primeiro o encontrou.
Mateo e o autor ficam irmanados na devoção
pela Alambra. O próprio Washington Irving veio a ser reconhecido pelos
espanhóis, também ele, «filho da Alhambra», com estátua na cidadela que tanto
amou e deu a conhecer. A satisfação que sentiu, quando soube da vida mais
favorável de Mateo, é natural num amigo, num irmão.
Mateo e Irving são irmãos, ambos «filhos
da Alhambra».
The Journey
In the spring of
1829, the author of this work whom curiosity had brought into Spain, made a
rambling expedition from Seville to Granada in company with a friend, a member
of the Rusian embassy at Madrid. accident had thrown us together from distant
regions of the globe and a similarity of taste led us to wander together among
the romantic mountains of Andalusia. (p. 15)
[As planuras de
Castela e da Mancha têm algo da grandeza solene do oceano] The inmense plains of the Castiles and of La
Mancha, extending as far as the eye can reach, derive an interest from their
very nakedness and immensity, and have something of the solemn grandeur of the
ocean. In ranging over these boundless wastes, yhe eye catches sight here and
there of a straggling herd of cattle attended by a lonely herdsman, //
motionless as a statue with his long slender pike tapering up like a lance into
the air or beholds a long train of camels in the desert, or a single herdsman
armed with blunderbuss and stiletto, and prowling over the plain. Thus the
country, the habits, the very looks of the people, have something of the
arabian character. The general insecurity of the country is evinced in the
universal use of weapons. The herdsman in the field, the shepherd in the plain,
has his musket and his knife. The wealthy villager rarely ventures to the
market-town without his trabuco, and perhaps a servant on foot with
a blunderbuss on his shoulder, and the most petty journey is undertaken with
the preparation of a warlike enterprise. (p. 16-17)
A mulecloth spread
upon the ground is his bed at night and his pack-saddle is his pillow. His low
but clean-limbed and sinewy form betokens strength; his complexion his dark and
sunburnt; his eye resolute but quiet in his expression, except when kindled by
sudden emotion; his demeanour is frank, manly and courteous, and he never
passes you without a grave salutation: «¡Dios // guarde a usted!» «¡ Vaya
usted con Dios, caballero!» «God guard you! God be with you,
cavalier!» (p. 17-18)
It has a most
picturesque effect also to meet a train of muleteers in some mountain-pass.
First you ear the bells of the leading mules, breaking with their simple melody
the stillness of the airy height, or perhaps the voice of the muleteer, admon-
// ishing some tardy or wandering animal, or chanting, at the full stretch of
his lungs, some traditionary ballad. At length you see the mules slowly winding
along the cragged defile, sometimes descending precipitous cliffs, so as to
present themselves in full relief against the sky, sometimes toiling up the
deep arid chasms below you. As they approach, you descry their gay decorations
of worsted tufts, tassels and saddle-cloths, while, as they pass by, the
ever-ready trabuco slung behind the packs and saddles gives a hint
of the insecurity of the road. (p. 18-19)
It was on the first
of May that my companion and myself set forth from Seville on our route to
Granada. We had made all the preparations for the nature of our journey which
lay through mountainous regions where the roads are little better than mere
mule-paths, and too frequently beset by robbers. The most valuable part of our
luggage had been forwarded by the arrieros; we retained merely
clothing and necessaries for the journey and money for the expenses of the
road, with a sufficient surplus of the latter to satisfy the expectations of
robbers should we be assailed, and to save ourselves from the rough treatment
that awaits the too wary and empty-handed traveller. A couple of stout hired
steeds were provided for the conveyance of a sturdy Biscayan lad of about
twenty years of age,m who was to // guide us through the perplexed mazes of the
mountain roads, to take care of the horses, to acto occasionally as our valet,
and at all times as our guard, for he had a formidable trabuco or
carbine to defend us from rateros or solitary footpads, about
which weapon he made much vain-glorious boast, though, to the discredit of his
generalship, I must say that it generally hung unloaded behind his saddle. He
was, however, a faithful, cheery, kindhearted creature, full of saws and
proverbs [...] (p. 20-21) [Era nos ditos e provérbios, como o célebre Sancho, com cujo
nome o agraciaram.]
Thus equipped and
attended, we set out on our journey with a genuine disposition to be pleased.
With sucha disposition, what a country is Spain for a traveller, where the most
miserable inn is as full of adventure as an enchanted castle and every meal is in itself an
achievment! Let others repine at the lack of turnpike-roads and sumptuous
hotels, and all the elaborate comforts of a country cultivated into tameness
and the common-place, but give me the rude mountain scramble, the roving,
haphazard manners that give such a true game flavour to romantic Spain! (p. 21)
[Um pátio festivo, com um sapateiro-orfeu a tocar guitarra, a cantar, a
dançar fandango. Castanholas. Pepita, num bolero com um belo jovem dragão
e o alguacil a fazer lembrar D. Quixote, sem dar notícia de
nada do que se passava à sua volta.] (p. 22-23)
[Um pedinte solitário, que come com a sobriedade e decoro que ficariam bem
num fidalgo.] (p. 25-26)
*
To the traveller
imbued with a feeling for the historical and poetical, the Alhambra of Granada
is as much an object of veneration as is the Kaaba or sacred house of Mecca to
all true Moslem pilgrims. How many legends and traditions, true and fabulous,
how many songs and romances, Spanish and Arabian, of love and war and chivalry
are associated with this romantic pile! The reader may judge therefore of our
delight when, shortly after our arrival in Granada, the Governor of the Alhambra
gave us permission to occupy his vacant apartments in the Moorish palace. My
companion was soon summoned by the du- // ties of his station, but I remained
for several months, spellbound in the old enchanted pile. The following papers
are the result of my reveries and researches during that delicious thraldom. If
they have the power of imparting any of the witching charms of the place to the
imagination of the reader, he will not repine at lingering with me for a season
in the legendary halls of the Alhambra. (p. 31-32)
Government of the
Alhambra
[Os reis na
Alambra; o capitão-general de Granada e o governador da Alambra] The sojourn of the sovereigns was transient, and
after their departure the palace once more became desolate. Still the place was
maintained with some military state. The governor held it immediately from the
crown, its jurisdiction extended down into the suburbs of the city and was
independent of the Captain General of Granada. A considerable garrison was kept
up, the governor had his apartments in the front of the old Moorish palace and
never descended into Granada without some military parfade. The fortress in
fact was a little town of itself, having several streets of houses within its
walls, together with a Franciscan convent and a parochial chuirch (p. 34)
Interior of the Alhambra
Matéo Jiménez, «filho da Alambra»
At the gate were
two or three ragged and s uperannuated soldirs, dozing on a stone bench, the
successors of the Zegríes and the Abencerrages, while a tall meagre varlet whose
rusty-brown cloak was evidently intended to conceal the ragged state of his
nether garments was lounging in the sunshine and gossiping // with an ancient
sentinel on duty. He jointed us as we entered the gate and offered his services
to show us the fortress.
I have a
traveller's dislike to officious ciceroni and did not altogether like the garb
of the applicant.
«You are well
acquainted with the place, I presume?»
«Ninguno
más; pues, Señor, soy hijo de la Alhambra.» — (Nobody better; in fact, sir, I am a son of the
Alhambra!)
The common
Spaniards have certainly a most poetical way of expressing themselves. «A son
of the Alhambra!» The appelation caught me at once; the very tattered garb of
my new acquaintance assumed a dignity in my eyes. It was emblematic of the
fortunes of the palace and befitted the progeny of a ruin. (p. 37-38)
The Tower of
Comares__
Reflections on the
Moslem Domination in Spain
__
The Household Tía Antonia e Dolores, p. 55
It is time that I
give some idea of my domestic arrangements in this singular residence. The
Royal Palace of the Alhambra is entrusted to care of a good old maiden dame,
called Dona Antonia Molina, but who, according to Spanish custom, goes by the
more neighbourly appellation of Tia Antonia (Aunt Antonia).
She maintains the Moorish halls and gardens in order and shows them to
strangers, in consideration of which she is allowed all the perquisites
received from visitors and all the produce of the gardens, excepting that she
is expected to pay an occasional tribute of fruits and flowers to the Governor.
Her residence is in a corner of the palace and her family consists of a nephew
and niece, the children of two different brothers. The nephew, Manuel Molina,
is a young man of sterling worth and Spanish gravity. He has served in the
armies both in Spain and the West Indies, but is now studying medicine, in
hopes of one day or other becoming physician to the fortress, a post worth at
least a hundred and forty dololars a year. As to the niece, she is a plump
little black-eyed Andalusian damsel named Dolores, but who from her bright
looks and cheerful disposition merits a merrier name. She is the declared
heiress of all her aunt's possessions, consisting of certain ruinous tenements
in the fortress, yielding a revenue of about one hundred and fifty dollars. I
had not been long in the Alhambra, before I discovered that a // quiet
courtship was going on between the discreet Manuel and his bright-eyed cousin,
and that nothing was wanting to enable them to join their hands and expectations,
but that he should receive his doctor's diploma and purchase a dispensation
from the Pope, on account of their consanguinity. (p.55-56)
The Truant__
The Author's
Chamber
[O tecto] [...] There were two lofty rooms, the ceilings of which were
of deep panel-work of cedar, richly and skilfully carved with fruits and
flowers, intermingled with grotesque masks of faces, but broken in many places. (p. 66)
[...pintados por
mão acima da média] In the compartments
of the panelled ceilings were baskets of fruit and garlands of flowers, painted
by no mean hand and in tolerable preservation. (p. 66)
[O jardim de
Lindaraxa] «How beauteous is this
garden!» says an Arabic inscription, «where the flowers of the earth vie with
the stars of heaven! What can compare with the vase of yon alabaster fountain,
filled with crystal water? Nothing but the moon in her fullness, shining in the
midst of an unclouded sky!» (p. 67)
[Os jardins e a habitação do autor: a mutabilidade, condição do homem e das
suas obras. a desolação dos aposentos, um toque suplementar de charme] Centuries had elapsed,
yet how much of this scene of apparently fragile beauty remained! The garden of Lindaraxa was still adorned with
flowers, the fountain still presented its crystal mirro4r; it is true, the
alabaster had lost its whiteness and the basin beneath, overrun with weeds, had
become the nestling-place of the lizard, but there is something in the very
decay that enhanced the interest of the scene, speaking, as it did, of that
mutability which is the irrevocable lot of man and all his works.The desolation
too of these chambers, once the abode of the proud and elegant Elisabeth, had a
more touching charm for me than if I had beheld them in their pristine
splendour, glittering with the pageantry of a court. I determined at once to
take up my quarters in this apartment. (p. 67)
[Para a boa Tia
Antónia, era altamente perigoso o autor ficar ali, longe do resto dos
habitantes; é sempre suposto os estrangeiros estarem bem providos de dinheiro,] The good Tía Antonia considered it highly dangerous;
the neighbourhood, she said, was indested by vagrants; the caverns of the
adjacent hills swarmed with gypsies; the palace was ruinous, and easy to be //
entered in many parts, and the rumour of a stranger quartered alone in
one of the ruined apartments, out of the hearing of the rest of the
inhabitants, might tempt unwelcome visitors in the night, specially as
foreigners are always supposed to be well stocked with money. Dolores
represented the frightful loneliness of the place, nothing but bats and owls
flitting about; then there were a fox and a wild cat, that kept about the
vaults and roamed about at night. (p. 67-68)
The Alhambra by
Moonlight
[Embalado pelas
águas a cair da fonte de Lindaraxa] [...]
and it hs been almost morning before I have retired to my bed and been lulled
to sleep by the falling waters of the fountain of Lindaraxa. (p. 72)
Inhabitants of the
Alhambra
Here are two
classes of people to whom life seems one long holiday, the very rich, and the
very poor; one, because they need to do nothing, the other, because they have
nothingm tom do; but there none who understand the art of doing nothing and
living upon nothing better than the poor classes of Spain. Climate does one
half and temperament the rest. Give a Spaniard the // shade in summer and the
sun in winter, a little bread, garlic, oil and garbanzos, an old
brown cloak and a guitar, and let the world roll on as it pleases. Talk of poverty!
with him it has no disgrace. It sits upon him with a grandiose style, like his
ragged cloak. He is an hidalgo even when in rags. (p. 75-76)
[Pescar à linha no
céu] Before concluding these remarks, I must mention one of
the amusements of the place, which has particularly struck me. I had repeatedly
observed a long lean fellow perched on the top of one of the towers,
manoeuvring two or three fishing-rods, as though he was angling for the stars.
I was for some time perplexed by the evolutions of this aerial fisherman and my
perplexity increased on observing others employed in like manner on different
parts of the battlements and bastions; it was not until I consulted Mateo
Jiménez that I solved the mystery.
It seems that the
pure and airy situation of this fortress has rendered it, like the castle of
Macbeth, a prolific breeding-place for swallows and martlets who sport about
its towers in myriads with the holiday glee of urchins just let loose from
school. To entrap these birds in their giddy circlings, with hooks baited with
flies, is one of the favourite amusements of the ragged «sons // of the
Alhambra», who, with the good-for-nothing ingenuity of arrant idlers, have thus
invented the art of angling in the sky. (p. 76-77)
The Court of Lions
__
Boabdil el Chico
__
Mementos of
Boabdil
__
The Balcony
__
The adventure of
the Mason
__
«A Ramble among
the Hills»
[O pôr-do-sol, a
hora da oração] [...] it spreads a
transient sanctity over the land; [...] (p..108)
[A Serra Nevada] That Sierra Nevada, señor, is a lump of ice in the
middle of Andalusia to keep it all cool in summer. [Fala Mateo] (p. 110)
[Boabdil] as we were wandering among tuese traces of old times,
Mateo pointed out to me a circular pit that seemed to penetrate deep into the
bosom of the mountain. It was evidently a deep well, dug by the indefatigable
Moors, to obtain their favourite element in its greatest purity. Mateo,
however, had a different story, and much more to its humour. This was according
to // tradition, an entrance to the subterranean caverns of the mountain, in
which Boabdil and his court lay bound in magic spell and from whence they
sallied forth at night at allotted times to revisit their ancient abodes. (p. 108-109)
Local Traditions
__
The House of the Weather Cock
__
Legend of the arabian Astrologer
__
The Tower of las Infantas
__
Legend of the three Beautiful Princesses
__
Visitors to the Alhambra
[Está há três meses na Alambra. Chegou em Maio. O Verão, entretanto, fez
murchar a rosa e calou o rouxinol. Nos banhos: a luz suave, misteriosa que
reina no lugar. Sonha-se rei absoluto, mas vai partilhar o império com um velho
conde espanhol, entretanto chegado.]
A soft mysterious
light reigns through the place; the broken baths are still there and traces of
ancient ellegance. (p. 170)
My dream of
absolute sovereignty, however, is at an end. I was roused from it lately by the
report of fire-arms, which reverberated among the towers, as if the castle had
been taken by surprise. (p. 170) [Chega o velho conde;
atira às andorinhas (!), mas falha sempre. Tacitamente, dividem o império entre
si (W. Irving e o velho conde) (p. 171)
The arrival of this
old gentleman has in some manner changed the aspect of the affairs, but has
likewise afforded matter for agreable speculation. We have tacitly shared the
empire between us, like the last kings og Granada, excepting that we maintain a
most amicable alliance. He reigns absolute over the Court of the Lions and its
adjacent halls, while I maintain peaceful possession of the regions of the
baths and the little garden of Lindaraxa. We take our meals together under the
arcades of the court, where the fountains cool the air and bubbling rills along
the channels of the marble pavement. (p. 171)
Legend of the
Prince Ahmed al Kamel
or the Pilgrim of
Love
[...] al
Kamel or the Perfect [...], (p. 175)
One cloud only
rested upon his destiny, and even that was of a roseate hue. He would be of an
amourous temperament and run great perils from the allurements of love until of
mature age, these dangers would be averted and his life thereafter be one
uninterrupted course of felicity. (p.175)
[Isolamento no
Generalife] 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 palace
known at the present day by the name of the Generalife. (p. 175)
[Eben Bonabben, o guardião e instrutor do príncipe; um homem que via «mais
encanto numa múmia egípcia do que na mais tentadora das beldades vivas». O
amor, a paixão ociosa, nas palavras de Eben Bonabben; os vinte anos do
príncipe; o príncipe não quis a álgebra; Bonaben tira o príncipe das seduções
do jardim e «tranca-o» na torre mais alta do Generalife. (p. 175 a 177)] «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!» (p. 177)
By degrees this loving disposition began to extend to
inanimate objects; he had his favourite flowers which he cherished with tender
assiduity; then he became attached to various trees, and there was one in
particular of a graceful form and drooping foliage, on which he lavished his
amorous devotion, carving his name on its bark, hanging garlands on its
branches and singing couplets in its praise to the accompaniment of his lute. (p. 177)
[Eben Bonabben transmitiu ao príncipe o que sabia
sobre a linguagem das aves. Falcão, mocho,
morcego, andorinha.] (p. 178-179) He
soon grew weary of his new acquaintances, whose conversation spoke so little to
the head and nothing to the heart; and gradually relapsed into his loneliness.» (p. 179)
«Tell me then, O most profound of sages, what is the
nature of this thing called love?»
The sage Eben Bonabben was struck as with a thunderbolt. He trembled and
turned pale, and felt as if head sat but loosely on his shoulders. (p. 181)
[O príncipe e o(a) belo(a) pombo(a), fugido(a) do
falcão, posto(a) em gaiola de ouro, recusa alimento e senta-se esmorecido(a),
abatido, soltando lamentos de meter dó] «What aileth thee?» said Ahmed. «Hast thou not everything thy heart can wish?»
«Alas, no!» rreplied the dove; «am I not separated from the partner of
my heart, and that too in the happy spring-time, the very season of love!»
«Of love!» echoed
Ahmed; «I pray thee, my pretty bird, canst thou then tell me what is love?» (p. 182)
[A resposta do(a) pombo(a) é de uma riqueza que, pelo
menos, iguala a sabedoria de Eben Bonabben noutras áreas]
«Too well can I, my
prince. It is the torment of one, the felicity of two, the strife and enmity of
thyree. It is a charm which // draws two beings together and unites them by
delicious sympathies, making it hapiness to be with each other, but misery to
be apart. Is there no being to whom you are drawn by these ties of tender
affection?»
«I like my old teacher [...].
«That is not the sympathy I mean. I speak ol love, the great mystery and
principle of life, the intoxicating revel of youth, the sober delight of age.
Look forth, my prince, and behold how at this blest season all nature is full
of love. Every created being has its mate; the most insignificant bird sings to
its paramour; the very beetle woos its lady-beetle in the dust, and yon butterflies
which you see fluttering high above the tower and toying in the air are happy
in each other's loves. alas, my prince! hast thou spent so many of the precious
days of youth without knowing anything of lovge? Is there no gentle being of
another sex, no beautiful princess or lovely damsel who has ensnared your
heart, and filled your bosom with a soft tumult of pleasing pains and tender
wishes?» (182-183)
[O príncipe
liberta o(a) pombo(a)] The prince
followed him with his eyes [...]. (p. 184]
[O príncipe fica a saber, em conversa com Bonabben, as predições dos
astrólogos em relação à sua pessoa; razoabilidade e discreção do
príncipe. Poucas manhãs depois, o(a) pombo(a) pousa-lhe no ombro e traz
notícias: «Onde estiveste, desde que nos separámos?» O(a) pombo(a) leva uma
carta à princesa. O príncipe espera, dia após dia o regresso do
mensageiro.]
«In a far country,
my prince,from whence i bring you tidings in reward for my liberty. In the wild
compass of my flight which extends over plain and mountain, as I was soaring in
the air, I beheld below me a delightful garden with all kinds of fruits and
flowers. It was in a green meadow, on the banks of a wandering stram, and in
the centre of the garden was a stately palace. I alighted in one of the bowers
to repose after my weary flight. On the green bank below me was a youthful
princess in the very sweetness and bloom of her years. She was surrounded by
female attendants, young like herself, who decked her with garlands and
coronets of flowers, but no flower of field or garden could compare with her
for loveliness. Here, however, she bloomed in secret, for the garden was
surrounded by high walls and no mortal man was permitted to enter. When I
beheld this beauteous maid, thus young and innocent and unspotted by the world,
I thought, here is the being formed by Heaven to inspire my prince with love». (p. 185)
[O príncipe fica a saber, em conversa com Bonabben, as
predições dos astrólogos em relação à sua pessoa; razoabilidade e
discreção do príncipe. Poucas manhãs depois, o(a) pombo(a) pousa-lhe no ombro e
traz notícias: «Onde estiveste, desde que nos separámos? Escreve uma carta à
princesa, a que acrescenta coplas da mais terna e comovedora eloquência. Uma
tarde, ao pôr-do-sol, a ave entra no apartamento do príncipe, numa agitação de
asas, caindo a seus pés, morta. Resolução do
príncipe.]
[...] when towards sunset one evening the faithful
bird fluttered into his apartment and falling at his feet, expired. The arrow
of some wanton archer had pierced his brast, yet he had struggled with the
lingerings of life to execute his mission. As the prince bent with grief over
this gentle martyr to fidelity, he beheld a chain of pearls round his neck,
attached to which beneath his wing was a small enamelled picture. It
represented a lovely princess in the very flower of her years. It was doubtless
the unknown beauty of the garden, but who and where was she? How have she
received his letter, and was this picture sent as a token of her approval of
his passion? Unfortunately the death of the faithful dove left everything in
mystery and doubt. (p. 186)
The resolution of Prince Ahmed was taken. «I will fly
from this palace», said he, «which has become an odious prison and, a pilgrim
of love, will seek this unknown princess throughout the world». (p. 187)
-------------------------
«And can you be at
any loss for an object in amorous Andalusia?» said the old raven. (p. 190).
[O papagaio
viajante; o papagaio pede uma sinecura] «With
al my heart», said the parrot: but let it be a sinecure, if possible, for we
wits have a great dislike of labour». (p. 194)
[O príncipe toca na sua flauta pastoril, em vão. Canta os versos da carta
que tinha declarado a sua paixão] (p. 204) [...] The
lovers were discreet; they but exchange glances, yet those glances spoke
volumes. Never was triumph of music more complete. (p. 205)
[O tapete voador] «This carpet», said the prince, «once covered the
throne of Solomon the Wise; it is worthy of being placed beneath the feet of
beauty». (p. 205) «Alas,
sire, we knew not its nature nor could we decipher the inscription of the box.
If it be indeed the carpet of the throne of the wise Solomon, it is possessed
of magic power and can transport its owner from place to place through the
air». (p. 206)
[A princesa
continuou na sua fé] The Christian king
was easily pacified when he found that his daughter was suffered to continue in
her faith -- not that he was particularly pious, but religion is always a point
of pride and etiquette with princes. [...] (p. 206)
[Final da história, p. 207] Ahmed
gratefully requited the services which they had rendered on his pilgrimage. He
appointed the owl his prime minister, the parrot his master of ceremonies. It
is needless to say that never was a realm more sagely administered or a court
conducted with more exact punctilio.
«Legend of the
Moor's Legacy»
[O galego Pedro
Gil (= Peregil)] Who wants water,
water colder than snow? Who wants water from the well of the Alhambra, cold as
ice and clear as crystal? (p. 210)
[Encontro com um
estranho no poço] In a little
while the Moor was seized with violent convulsions which defied all the
ministering skill of the simple water-carrier, The eye of the poor patient
acknowledged his kindness. During an interval of its fits he called him to his
side and addressing him in a low voice, «My end», said he, «I fear is at hand.
If I die, // I bequeath you this box as a reward for your charity». So saying,
he opened his albornoz or cloak and showed a small box of
sandal-wood, strapped round his body. «God grant, my friend», replied the
worthy little gallego, «that you may live many years to enjoy
your treasure, whatever it may be». The Moor shook his head; he laid his
hand upon the box and would have said something more concerning it, but
his convulsions returned with inreased violence and in a little while he
expired. (p. 213-214)
[O alcalde] It could not be denied, however, that he set a high
value upon justice, for he sold it at its weight in gold. (p. 216)
When there is
nothing to be gained by the conviction of a prisoner, justice even in Spain is
apt to be impartial. (p. 218)
[Vai à loja de um mouro de Tânger, que vendia berloques e perfumaria no
Zacatín e pede que lhe explique o conteúdo da caixa] The Moor read the scroll
attentively, then stroked his beard and smiled. «This
manuscript» said he, «is a form of incantation for the recovery of hidden
treasure that is under the power of enchantment. It is said to have such virtue
that the strongest bolts and bars, nay the adamantine rock itself, will yield
before it!» (p. 219)
[O segredo] «Friend Peregil», said the Moor, «you are a discreet
man, and I make no doubt can keep a secret, but you have a wife». (p. 223)
[Vão procurar o tesouro] Towards midnight the alcalde sallied
forth secretly attended by the alguacil and the meddlesome
barber, all strongly armed. They conducted thr Moor and the water-carrier as
prisoners, and were provided with the stout donkey of the latter to bear off
the expected treasure. They arrived at the tower without being observed and,
tying the donkey to a fig-tree, descended into the fourth vault of the tower.
The scroll was
produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, and the Moor read the form of
incantation. The earth trembled as before and the pavement opened with a
thundering sound, disclosing the narrow flight of steps. (p. 227)
[O mouro voltou para Tânger; o galego foi para Portugal]
The Moor returned
to Africa to his native city of Tangiers, and the gallego with his wife, his
children and his donkey made the best of his way to Portugal. (p. 229)
[Conclusão] As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained shut
up under the great tower of the Seven Floors, and there they remain spell-bound
at the present day. Whenever there shall be a lack in Spain of pimping barbers,
sharking alguaciles and corrupt alcaldes, they may
be sought after, but if they have to wait until such time for their delivrance,
there is danger of their enchantment enduring until doomsday. (p. 230)
Legend of the Rose
of the Alhambra or the Page and the Ger-Falcon
[O pagem favorito
da rainha, Ruiz de Alarcón] To the queen he was
all deference and respect, yet he was at heart a roguish stripling, petted and
spoiled by the ladies about the court and experienced in the ways of women far
beyond his years. (p. 232).
[ O cerco, o
ataque à guarnição] The sly page saw
that the garrison began to waver and redoubled his entreaties in such moving
terms that it was not in the nature of mortal maiden to deny him, so the
blushing little warden of the tower descended and opened the door with a
trembling hand. If the page had beem charmed by a mere glimpse of her
countenance from the window, he was ravished by the full-length portrait now
revealed to him. (p. 234)
[Ruiz de Alarcón] imprime na mão da donzela um beijo mais fervente e
devoto do que alguma vez imprimiu na mão da sua soberana. (p. 235)
[O pagem vê a
confusão no campo oposto; de bom grado teria tirado partido dela] [...] but the fine speeches he would have uttered died
upon his lips; his attempts at gallantry were awkward and ineffectual,
and to his surprise, the adroit page who had figured with such grace and
effrontery among the most knowing and experienced ladies of the court found
himself awed and abashed in the presence of a simple damsel of fifteen. (p. 235-236)
[A tia Fredegonda] The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of
ancient spinsters. (p. 237)
[A beleza da rapariga não passou despercebida aos camponeses da vizinhança,
que lhe chamaram a «Rosa da Alambra»] [...] like an opening rose blooming neneath
a briar. Nor indeed is this comparison entirely accidental, for
to tell the truth her fresh and dawning beauty had caught the public eye, even
in her seclusion and, with that poetical turn common to the people of
Andalusia, the peasantry of the neighbourhood had given her the
appelation of «The rose of the Alhambra». (p. 237)
[O pagem-falcão] Ah, silly, silly girl! Know that therea re no
ger-falcons half so dangerous as these young pranking pages and it is precisely
such simple birds as thee that they pounce upon. (p. 238)
[O uso de «still»,
para indicar a longa espera da Rosa de Alhambra»]: still
he came not; still nothing was heard of the forgetful page.] Days, weeks,
months elapsed and nothing more was heard of the page. The pomegranate ripened,
the vine yielded up its fruit, the autumnal rains descended in torrents from
the mountains, the Sierra Nevada became covered with a snowy mantle and wintry
blasts blowed through the halls of the Alhambra -- still he came not. The
winter passed away. Again the genial spring burst forth with song and blossom
and balmy zephyr; the snows melted from the mountains, until none remained but
on the lofty summit of Nevada, glistening through the sultry summer air. Still
nothing was heard of the forgetful page. (p. 239)
[As três
princesas, Zayda, Zorayda e Zorahayda, p. 240]
[A frieza de
Fredegonda só pode ser aquecida por melodia sobrenatural] If the good lady had any lingering doubts, they
were removed when Jacinta touched the instrument, for she drew forth such
ravishing tones as to thaw even the frigid bosom of the immaculate Fredegonda,
that region of eternal winter, into a genial flow. Nothing but supernatural
melody could have produced such an effect. (p. 242) The extraordinary power of the lute became every
day more and more apparent. [...] nothing was talked of throughout
Andalusia but the beautiful minstrel of the Alhambra. How could it be otherwise
among a people so musical and gallant as the Andalusians, when the lute was magical
in its powers, and the minstrel inspired by love? (243)
[Medicina musical para o rei Filipe V (p. 243-244). Triunfo completo da
música; deixa cair o alaúde e... nos braços de Alarcón. (p. 246) Os escrúpulos
do pai facilmente foram ultrapassados por uma palavra ou duas da rainha. As
cordas do alaúde estão agora no violino de Paganini (p. 247).] The nuptials of the happy couple were shortly after
celebrated with grear splendour, but hold -- I hear the reader ask, how did
Ruiz de Alarcón account for his long neglect? Oh, that was all owing to the
opposition of a proud, pragmatical old father. Besides, young people who really
like one another soon come to an amicable understanding and bury all past
grievances when once they meet. (p. 246) That lute remained for some time in the family,
but was purloined and carried off, as was supposed, by the great singer
Farinelli in pure jealousy. At his death it passed into other hands in Italy,
who were ignorant of its mystic powers and, melting down the silver, transferred
the strings to an old Cremona fiddle. The strings still retain something of
their magic virtues. A word in the reader's ear, but let it go no further. That
fiddle is now bewitching the whole world -- it is the fiddle of Paganini! (p. 247)
The Veteran
__
The Governor and
the Notary
[El Gobernador
Manco ganha] The old governor stuck his one
arm akimbo and for a moment surveyed him with an iron smile. «Henceforth, myu
friend», said he, «moderate your zeal in hurrying others to the gallows; be not
too certain of your safety, even though you should have the law on your side,
and above all take care how you play off your schoolcraft another time upon an
olod soldier». (p. 258)
«Legend of the
Governor and the Soldier»
When Governor Manco
or «the one-armed» kept up a show of military state in the Alhambra he became
nettled at the reproaches continually cast upon his fortress of being a
nestling-place of rogues and contrabandistas. On a sudden the
olden potentate determined on reform and, setting vigorously to work, ejected
whole nests of vagabonds out of the fortress and the gypsi caves with which the
surrounding hills are honey-combed. He sent out soldiers also to patrol the
avenues and footpaths, with orders to take up all suspicious persons.
One bright summer
morning a patrol ... ... ... ...
... ... ... .... .... .... ....
.... .... .... .... .... ... ...
... ... ...
Presently they
beheld a sturdy sunburnt fellow, clad in the ragged garb of a foot-soldier,
leading a powerful Arabian horse caparisoned in the Morisco fashion. (259)
Governor Manco was
seated in one of the inner halls of the Alhambra, taking his morning's cup of
chocolate in company with his confessor, a fat Franciscan friar from the neighbouring
convent. A demure, dark-eyed damsel of Malaga, the daughter of his housekeeper,
was attending upon him. The worl hinted that the damsel who with all his
demureness was a sly buxom baggage had found out a soft spot in the iron heart
of the old governor, and held complete control over him. But let that pass. The
domestic affairs of these mighty potentates of the earth should not be too
narrowly scrutinised. (p. 261)
«I told your
excellency I had strange things to relate, but not more strange than true, as
your excellency will find, if you will deign me a patient hearing.» (p. 263)
As they were
pinioning the soldier, one of the guards felt something of bulk in his pocket
and, drawing it forth, found a long leathern purse that appeared to be well
filled. Holding it by one corner, he turned out the contents upon the table,
before the governor and never did freebooter's bag make more gorgeous delivery.
Out tumbled rings and jewels and rosaries of pearls and sparkling diamond
crosses aqnd a profusion of ancient golden coin, some of which fell jingling to
the floor and rolled away to the uttermost parts of the chamber.
For a time the
functions of justice were suspended; there was an universal scramble after the
glittering fugitives. The governor alone who was imbued with true Spanish pride
maintained his stately decorum, though his eye betrayed a little anxiety until
the last coin and jewel restored to the sack.
The friar was not
so calm; his whole face glowed like a furnace and his eyes twinkled and flashed
at sight of the rosaries and crosses. (p. 271)
[El Gobernador Manco perde. O velho soldado ganhou em toda a linha.] «The soldier -- the robber -- the devil, for aught I
know. His dungeon is empty, but the door locked; no one knows how he has
escaped out of it.»
«Who saw him last?»
«Your handmaid; she
brought him his supper.»
«Let her be called
instantly.»
Here was new matter
of confusion. The chamber of the demure damsel was likewise empty, her bed had
not been slept in; she had doubtless gone off with the culprit, as she had
appeared for some days past to have frequent conversations with him.
This was wouding
the old governor in a tender part, but he had scarce time to wince at it, when
new misfortunes broke upon his view. On going into his cabinet he found his
strong box open, the leather purse of the trooper absracted and with it a
couple of corpulent bag of doubloons.
But how, and
which way had the fugitives escaped? An old peasant who lived in a cottage by
the road-side, leading up into the Sierra, declared that he had heard the tramp
of a powerful steed just before daybreak, passing up in the mountains. He had
looked out at his casement and could just distinguish a horseman with a female
seated before him.
«Search the
stables!» cried governor Manco. The stables were searched; all the horses were
in their stalls, excepting the Arabian steed. In his place was a stout cudgel
tied to the manger and on it a label bearing these words: «A Gift to Governor
Manco from an Old Soldier». (p. 276)
Legend of the two
Discreet Statues
[Lope Sánchez, um
baixote alegre) There lived once in
a waste apartment of the Alhambra, a merry little felow named Lopo Sánchez who
worked in the gardens and was as brisk and blithe as a grasshopper, singing all
day long. He was the life and soul of the fortress; when his work was over, he
would sit on one of the stone benches of the esplanade and strum his guitar and
sing long ditties about the Cid and Bernard del Carpio and Fernando del Pulgar
and other Spanish heroes for the amusement of the soldiers of the fortress or
would strike up a merrier tune and set the girls dancing boleros and fandangos. (p. 277)
[A pequena Sanchica descobre um tesouro e o que depois se segue]
[...] The
evening was gaily passed in dancing to the guitar of Lope Sánchez who was never
so joyous as when on a holiday revel of the kind. While the dance was going on,
the little Sanchica with some of her playmates sported among the ruins of an
old Moorish fort that crowns the mountain* when, in gathering pebbles in the
fosse, she found a small hand curiously carved of jet, the fingers closed and
the thumb firmly clasped upon them. (p.
278)
Honest Lope had
taken his measures with the utmost secrecy, imparting them to no one but the
faithful wife of his bosom. By some miraculous revelation, however, they became
known to Fray Simón. (p. 291)
The carriage
contained the bridal party. There was dame Sánchez, now grown as round as a
barrel and dressed out with feathers and jewels and necklaces of pearls and
necklaces of diamonds and rings on every finger and altogether a finery of
apparel that had not been seen since the days of Queen Sheba. The little
Sanchica had now grown to be a woman and for grace and beauty might have been
mistaken for a duchess, if not a princess outright. The bridegroom sat beside
her, rather a withered, spindle-shanked little man, but this only proved him to
be of the true blood, a legitimate Spanish grandee being rarely above three
cubits in stature. The match had been of the mother's making. (p. 294)
[As duas ninfas de
mármore da Alambra continuam a olhar para a mesma parte da parede] It is remarked that these very discreet statues
continue even unto the present day with their eyes fixed most significantly on
the same part of the wall, which leads many to suppose there is still some
hidden treasure remaining there well worthy the attention of the
enterprising traveller, though others and particularly all female visitors
regard them with great complacency as lasting monuments of the fact that women
can keep a secret. (p. 295)
___________________________
* i. e. the Moor's Seat (Silla del Moro). [Nota
9 de Tales of the Alhambra, ed. comemorativa do 175.º
aniversário da publicação, Ediciones Miguel Sánchez, 2007.]
Muhamed Abu
Alahmar, the Founder of the Alhambra
__
Yusef Abul Hagig,
the finisher of the Alhambra
[Este príncipe faz lembrar a «Lenda do Príncipe Ahmed al Kamel, o Peregrino
do Amor»]
[Retrato de Yusef]
Yusef Abul Hagig
(or, as is sometimes written, Haxix), ascended the throne of Granada in the
year 1333, and his personal appearance and mental qualities were such as to win
all hearts and to awaken anticipations of a beneficent and prosperous reign. He
was a noble presence and great bodily strength, united to manly beauty; his
complexion was exceedingly fair and, according to the Arabian chronicles, he
heightened the gravity and majesty// of his appearance by suffering his beard
to grow to a dignified length and dyeing it black. He had an excellent memory,
well stored with science and erudition; he was of a lively genius and accounted
the best poet of his time, and his manners were gentle, affable and urbane.
Yussef possessed the courage common to all generous spirits but his genius was
more cultivated for peace than war and though obliged to take up arms
repeatedly in his time, he was generally infortunate. (p. 305-306)
[Entre outras empresas funestas, empreendeu uma grande campanha,
conjuntamente com o rei de Marrocos, contra os reis de Castela e Portugal, mas
foi vencido na batalha do Salado.]
[Completou as grandes obras de arquitectura começadas pelos seus
antecessores e erigiu outras, segundo os seus próprios planos. A Alambra estava
agora completa. Yusef construiu a bela porta da Justiça, que é a grande entrada
na fortaleza, que acabou em 1348.]
[O génio de Yusef imprimiu carácter no seu tempo] The genius of a sovereign
stamps a character upon his time. The nobles of
Granada, imitating the elegant and graceful taste of Yusef, soon filled the
city of Granada with magnificent palaces [...]. (p. 307)
[Espírito generoso
de Yusef revelado, na morte do seu mortal inimigo, Afonso XI de Castela] His deadly foe, Alfonso XI of Castille, took the field
with grat force and laid siege to Gibraltar. [...] when in the midst of his
anxiety, he received tidings that his dreaded foe had suddenly fallen a victim
to the plague. Instead of manifesting exultation on the occasion, Yusef called
to mind the great qualities of the deceased, and was touched with a no-//ble
sorrow, «Alas» cried he, «the world has lost one of its most excellent princes,
a sovereign who knew how to honour merit, whether in friend or foe!» (p. 307-308)
[Morre, assassinado, enquanto rezava na mesquita real da Alambra, no ano de
1354. A mesquita permanece, mas perdeu-se o soberbo sepulcro de mármore branco,
com um extenso epitáfio. O texto chegou até nós e constitui um retrato do
príncipe perfeito.]
The mosque still
remains which once resounded with the dying cries of Yusef, but the momument
which recorded his virtues has long since disappeared. His name, however,
remains inscribed among the ornaments of the Alhambra and will be perpetuated in
connexion with this renowned pile, which it was his pride and delight to
beautify. (p. 309)
The author's farewell to Granada
[Washington Irving, Rei, no reino feliz da Alambra -- no elísio muçulmano. Melancólica a partida de el-rei Chico II]
My serene and happy
reign in the Alhambra was suddenly brought to a close by letters which reached
me, while indulging in Oriental luxury in the cool hall of the baths, summoning
me away from my Moslem elysium to mingle once more in the bustle and business of
the dusty world. how was I to encounter its toils and turmoils, after such a
life of repose and reverie? How was I to endure its comonplacem after the
poetry of the Alhambra? (p. 311)
Humble was the
cortege and melancholy the departure of El Rey Chico the
Second! (p. 312)
[Mateo Jiménez, o que tudo sabe e tudo revela]
At some little
distance to the north of Granada, the road gradually ascends the hills; here I
alighted and walked up slowly with Manuel who took this occasion to confide to
me the secret ohf his heart and of all those tender concerns between himself
and Dolores with which I had been already informed by the all-knowing and
all-revealing Mateo Jiménez. His doctor's diploma had prepared the way for
their union and nothing more was wanting but the dispensation of the Pope, on
account of their consanguinity. Then, if he could get the post of médico of
the fortress, his happiness would be complete! I congratulated him on the
judgement and good taste he had shown in his choice of a helpmate, invoked all
possible felicity on their union and trusted that the abundant affections of
the kind-hearted little Dolores would in time have more stable objects to
occupy them than recreant cats and truant pigeons. (p. 312)
[Washington Irving leva nos olhos o pôr-do-sol na Alambra, é essa beleza
que quer recordar. Afasta-se e deixa de ver Granada, a Vega e a Alambra,
terminando, assim, um dos mais agradáveis sonhos da vida do autor]
The setting sun as
usual shed a melancholy effulgence on the ruddy towers of the Alhambra. I could
faintly discern the balconied window of the tower of Comares, where I had
indulged in so many delightful reveries. The bosky groves and gardens about //
the city were richly gilded with the sunshine, the purple haze of a summer
evening was gathering over the Vega; everything was lovely, but tenderly and
sadly so to my parting gaze.
«I will hasten from
this prospect», thought I, before the sun is set. I will carry away a
recollection of it clothed in all its beauty».
With these thoughts
I pursued my way among the mountains. A little further and Granada, the Vega
and the Alhambra, were shut from my view and thus ended one of the pleasantest
dreams of a life which the reader perhaps may think has been but too much made
up of dreams. (p. 313-314)
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