Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada | Page 8

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