CHAPTER I

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

CHAPTER I, CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA by Washington Irving

OF THE KINGDOM OF GRANADA, AND THE TRIBUTE WHICH IT
PAID TO THE CASTILIAN CROWN.


The history of those bloody and disastrous wars which have caused
the downfall of mighty empires (observes Fray Antonio Agapida) has
ever been considered a study highly delectable and full of precious
edification. What, then, must be the history of a pious crusade
waged by the most Catholic of sovereigns to rescue from the power
of the infidels one of the most beautiful but benighted regions of
the globe? Listen, then, while from the solitude of my cell I relate
the events of the conquest of Granada, where Christian knight and
turbaned infidel disputed, inch by inch, the fair land of Andalusia,
until the Crescent, that symbol of heathenish abomination, was cast
down, and the blessed Cross, the tree of our redemption, erected in
its stead.

Nearly eight hundred years were past and gone since the Arabian
invaders had sealed the perdition of Spain by the defeat of Don
Roderick, the last of her Gothic kings. Since that disastrous event
one portion after another of the Peninsula had been gradually
recovered by the Christian princes, until the single but powerful
and warlike territory of Granada alone remained under the domination
of the Moors.

This renowned kingdom, situated in the southern part of Spain and
washed on one side by the Mediterranean Sea, was traversed in every
direction by sierras or chains of lofty and rugged mountains, naked,
rocky, and precipitous, rendering it almost impregnable, but locking
up within their sterile embraces deep, rich, and verdant valleys of
prodigal fertility.

In the centre of the kingdom lay its capital, the beautiful city of
Granada, sheltered, as it were, in the lap of the Sierra Nevada, or
Snowy Mountains. Its houses, seventy thousand in number, covered
two lofty hills with their declivities and a deep valley between them,
through which flowed the Darro. The streets were narrow, as is
usual in Moorish and Arab cities, but there were occasionally small
squares and open places. The houses had gardens and interior
courts, set out with orange, citron, and pomegranate trees and
refreshed by fountains, so that as the edifices ranged above
each other up the sides of the hills, they presented a delightful
appearance of mingled grove and city. One of the hills was
surmounted by the Alcazaba, a strong fortress commanding all
that part of the city; the other by the Alhambra, a royal palace and
warrior castle, capable of containing within its alcazar and towers
a garrison of forty thousand men, but possessing also its harem, the
voluptuous abode of the Moorish monarchs, laid out with courts and
gardens, fountains and baths, and stately halls decorated in the
most costly style of Oriental luxury. According to Moorish
tradition, the king who built this mighty and magnificent pile was
skilled in the occult sciences, and furnished himself with the
necessary funds by means of alchemy.* Such was its lavish splendor
that even at the present day the stranger, wandering through its
silent courts and deserted halls, gazes with astonishment at gilded
ceilings and fretted domes, the brilliancy and beauty of which have
survived the vicissitudes of war and the silent dilapidation of ages.

*Zurita, lib. 20, c. 42.


The city was surrounded by high walls, three leagues in circuit,
furnished with twelve gates and a thousand and thirty towers. Its
elevation above the sea and the neighborhood of the Sierra Nevada
crowned with perpetual snows tempered the fervid rays of summer,
so that while other cities were panting with the sultry and stifling
heat of the dog-days, the most salubrious breezes played through
the marble halls of Granada.

The glory of the city, however, was its Vega or plain, which spread
out to a circumference of thirty-seven leagues, surrounded by lofty
mountains, and was proudly compared to the famous plain of Damascus.
It was a vast garden of delight, refreshed by numerous fountains and
by the silver windings of the Xenil. The labor and ingenuity of the
Moors had diverted the waters of this river into thousands of rills
and streams, and diffused them over the whole surface of the plain.
Indeed, they had wrought up this happy region to a degree of
wonderful prosperity, and took a pride in decorating it as if it had
been a favorite mistress. The hills were clothed with orchards and
vineyards, the valleys embroidered with gardens, and the wide plains
covered with waving grain. Here were seen in profusion the orange,
the citron, the fig, and the pomegranate, with great plantations of
mulberry trees, from which was produced the finest silk. The vine
clambered from tree to tree, the grapes hung in rich clusters about
the peasant's cottage, and the groves were rejoiced by the perpetual
song of the nightingale. In a word, so beautiful was the earth, so
pure the air, and so serene the sky of this delicious region that
the Moors imagined the paradise of their Prophet to be situated in
that part of the heaven which overhung the kingdom of Granada.

Within this favored realm, so prodigally endowed and strongly
fortified by nature, the Moslem wealth, valor, and intelligence,
which had once shed such a lustre over Spain, had gradually retired,
and here they made their final stand. Granada had risen to splendor
on the ruin of other Moslem kingdoms, but in so doing had become
the sole object of Christian hostility, and had to maintain its very
existence by the sword. The Moorish capital accordingly presented
a singular scene of Asiatic luxury and refinement, mingled with
the glitter and the din of arms. Letters were still cultivated,
philosophy and poetry had their schools and disciples, and the
language spoken was said to be the most elegant Arabic. A passion
for dress and ornament pervaded all ranks. That of the princesses
and ladies of high rank, says Al Kattib, one of their own writers,
was carried to a height of luxury and magnificence that bordered on
delirium. They wore girdles and bracelets and anklets of gold and
silver, wrought with exquisite art and delicacy and studded with
jacinths, chrysolites, emeralds, and other precious stones. They
were fond of braiding and decorating their beautiful long tresses
or confining them in knots sparkling with jewels. They were finely
formed, excessively fair, graceful in their manners, and fascinating
in their conversation; when they smiled, says Al Kattib, they
displayed teeth of dazzling whiteness, and their breath was as
the perfume of flowers.

The Moorish cavaliers, when not in armor, delighted in dressing
themselves in Persian style, in garments of wool, of silk, or cotton
of the finest texture, beautifully wrought with stripes of various
colors. In winter they wore, as an outer garment, the African cloak
or Tunisian albornoz, but in the heat of summer they arrayed
themselves in linen of spotless whiteness. The same luxury
prevailed in their military equipments. Their armor was inlaid and
chased with gold and silver. The sheaths of their scimetars were
richly labored and enamelled, the blades were of Damascus bearing
texts from the Koran or martial and amorous mottoes; the belts were
of golden filigree studded with gems; their poniards of Fez were
wrought in the arabesque fashion; their lances bore gay bandaroles;
their horses were sumptuously caparisoned with housings of green and
crimson velvet, wrought with silk and enamelled with gold and silver.
All this warlike luxury of the youthful chivalry was encouraged by the
Moorish kings, who ordained that no tax should be imposed on the
gold and silver employed in these embellishments; and the same
exxfxception was extended to the bracelets and other ornaments worn
by the fair dames of Granada.

Of the chivalrous gallantry which prevailed between the sexes in
this romantic period of Moorish history we have traces in the
thousand ballads which have come down to our day, and which
have given a tone and coloring to Spanish amatory literature and
to everything in Spain connected with the tender passion.

War was the normal state of Granada and its inhabitants; the common
people were subject at any moment to be summoned to the field, and
all the upper class was a brilliant chivalry. The Christian princes, so
successful in regaining the rest of the Peninsula, found their triumphs
checked at the mountain-boundaries of this kingdom. Every peak
had its atalaya, or watch-tower, ready to make its fire by night or
to send up its column of smoke by day, a signal of invasion at which
the whole country was on the alert. To penetrate the defiles of this
perilous country, to surprise a frontier fortress, or to make a foray
into the Vega and a hasty ravage within sight of the very capital
were among the most favorite and daring exploits of the Castilian
chivalry. But they never pretended to hold the region thus ravaged;
it was sack, burn, plunder, and away; and these desolating inroads
were retaliated in kind by the Moorish cavaliers, whose greatest
delight was a "tala," or predatory incursion, into the Christian
territories beyond the mountains.

A partisan warfare of this kind had long existed between Granada and
its most formidable antagonists, the kingdoms of Castile and Leon.
It was one which called out the keen yet generous rivalry of
Christian and Moslem cavaliers, and gave rise to individual acts of
chivalrous gallantry and daring prowess; but it was one which was
gradually exhausting the resources and sapping the strength of
Granada. One of the latest of its kings, therefore, Aben Ismael by
name, disheartened by a foray which had laid waste the Vega, and
conscious that the balance of warfare was against his kingdom,
made a truce in 1457 with Henry IV., king of Castile and Leon,
stipulating to pay him an annual tribute of twelve thousand doblas
or pistoles of gold, and to liberate annually six hundred Christian
captives, or in default of captives to give an equal number of Moors
as hostages,--all to be delivered at the city of Cordova.*

*Garibay, Compend., 1.17, c. 3.


The truce, however, was of a partial nature, with singular
reservations. It did not include the Moorish frontier toward Jaen,
which was to remain open for the warlike enterprises of either
nation; neither did it prohibit sudden attacks upon towns and
castles, provided they were mere forays, conducted furtively,
without sound of trumpet or display of banners or pitching of camps
or regular investment, and that they did not last above three days.*

*Zurita, Anales de Aragon, 1. 20, c. 42; Mariana, Hist. de Espana 1.
25, c. 1; Bleda, Coron. de los Moros, l. 5, c. 3.


Aben Ismael was faithful in observing the conditions of the truce,
but they were regarded with impatience by his eldest son, Muley
Abul Hassan, a prince of a fiery and belligerent spirit, and fond of
casing himself in armor and mounting his war-horse. He had been
present at Cordova at one of the payments of tribute, and had
witnessed the scoffs and taunts of the Christians, and his blood
boiled whenever he recalled the humiliating scene. When he came
to the throne in 1465, on the death of his father, he ceased the
payment of the tribute altogether, and it was sufficient to put him
into a tempest of rage only to mention it.

"He was a fierce and warlike infidel," says the pious Fray Antonio
Agapida; "his bitterness against the holy Christian faith had been
signalized in battle during the lifetime of his father, and the same
diabolical spirit of hostility was apparent in his ceasing to pay
this most righteous tribute."