feared they might take advantage of it to assault the camp. The Marquis
of Cadiz, therefore, sallied forth with three thousand horse to check any
advance from the city. When they emerged from the camp they found the
whole firmament illuminated. The flames whirled up in long light spires,
and the air was filled with sparks and cinders. A bright glare was thrown
upon the city, revealing every battlement and tower. Turbaned heads were
seen gazing from every roof, and armor gleamed along the walls; yet not a
single warrior sallied from the gates. The Moors suspected some stratagem
on the part of the Christians, and kept quietly within their walls. By
degrees the flames expired; the city faded from sight; all again became
dark and quiet, and the Marquis of Cadiz returned with his cavalry to the
camp. When the day dawned on the Christian camp nothing remained of
that beautiful assemblage of stately pavilions but heaps of smouldering
rubbish. The fire at first had been attributed to treachery, but on
investigation it proved to be entirely accidental.
The wary Ferdinand knew the sanguine temperament of the Moors, and
hastened to prevent their deriving confidence from the night's disaster.
At break of day the drums and trumpets sounded to arms, and the Christian
army issued from among the smoking ruins of their camp, in shining
squadrons, with flaunting banners and bursts of martial melody, as though
the preceding night had been a time of high festivity instead of terror.
The Moors had beheld the conflagration with wonder and perplexity. When
the day broke and they looked toward the Christian camp, they saw
nothing but a dark smoking mass. Their scouts came in with the joyful
intelligence that the whole camp was a scene of ruin. Scarce had the
tidings spread throughout the city when they beheld the Christian army
advancing toward their walls. They considered it a feint to cover their
desperate situation and prepare for a retreat. Boabdil had one of his
impulses of valor--he determined to take the field in person, and to
follow up this signal blow which Allah had inflicted on the enemy. The
Christian army approached close to the city, and were laying waste the
gardens and orchards, when Boabdil sallied forth, surrounded by all that
was left of the flower and chivalry of Granada. There was not so much one
battle as a variety of battles; every garden and orchard became a scene
of deadly contest; every inch of ground was disputed, with an agony of
grief and valor, by the Moors; every inch of ground that the Christians
advanced they valiantly maintained; but never did they advance with
severer fighting or greater loss of blood.
The cavalry of Musa was in every part of the field; wherever it came it
gave fresh ardor to the fight. The Moorish soldier, fainting with heat,
fatigue, and wounds, was roused to new life at the approach of Musa; and
even he who lay gasping in the agonies of death, turned his face
toward him, and faintly uttered cheers and blessings as he passed. The
Christians had by this time gained possession of various towers near the
city, from whence they had been annoyed by cross-bows and arquebuses. The
Moors, scattered in various actions, were severely pressed. Boabdil,
at the head of the cavaliers of his guard, displayed the utmost valor,
mingling in the fight in various parts of the field, and endeavoring to
inspirit the foot soldiers in the combat. But the Moorish infantry was
never to be depended upon. In the heat of the action a panic seized upon
them; they fled, leaving their sovereign exposed with his handful of
cavaliers to an overwhelming force. Boabdil was on the point of falling
into the hands of the Christians, when, wheeling round, with his
followers, they threw the reins on the necks of their fleet steeds and
took refuge by dint of hoof within the walls of the city.
Musa endeavored to retrieve the fortune of the field. He threw himself
before the retreating infantry, calling upon them to turn and fight for
their homes, their families, for everything that was sacred and dear to
them. It was all in vain--they were totally broken and dismayed, and fled
tumultuously for the gates. Slowly and reluctantly Musa retreated to the
city, and he vowed nevermore to sally forth with foot soldiers to the
field. In the mean time the artillery thundered from the walls and
checked all further advances of the Christians. King Ferdinand,
therefore, called off his troops, and returned in triumph to the ruins of
his camp, leaving the beautiful city of Granada wrapped in the smoke of
her fields and gardens and surrounded by the bodies of her slaughtered
children. Such was the last sally made by the Moors in defence of their
favorite city.
They now shut themselves up gloomily within their walls; there were no
longer any daring sallies from their gates. For a time they flattered
themselves with hopes that the late conflagration of the camp would
discourage the besiegers; that, as in former years, their invasion would
end with the summer, and that they would again withdraw before the
autumnal rains. The measures of Ferdinand and Isabella soon crushed these
hopes. They gave orders to build a regular city upon the site of their
camp, to convince the Moors that the siege was to endure until the
surrender of Granada. Nine of the principal cities of Spain were charged
with the stupendous undertaking; and they emulated each other with a zeal
worthy of the cause. To this city it was proposed to give the name of
Isabella, so dear to the army and the nation; but that pious Princess,
calling to mind the holy cause in which it was erected, gave it the name
of Santa Fé, or the "City of the Holy Faith," and it remains to this day
a monument of the piety and glory of the Catholic sovereigns.
In the mean time the besieged city began to suffer the distress of
famine. Its supplies were all cut off; a cavalcade of flocks and herds,
and mules laden with money, coming to the relief of the city from the
mountains of the Alpujarras[2], was taken by the Marquis of Cadiz and led
in triumph to the camp, in sight of the suffering Moors. Autumn arrived,
but the harvests had been swept from the face of the country; a rigorous
winter was approaching, and the city was almost destitute of provisions.
The people sank into deep despondency. They called to mind all that
had been predicted by astrologers at the birth of their ill-starred
sovereign, and all that had been foretold of the fate of Granada at the
time of the capture of Zahara.
Boabdil was alarmed by the gathering dangers from without and by the
clamors of his starving people. He summoned a council, composed of the
principal officers of the army, the alcaids of the fortresses, the
_xequis_ or sages of the city, and the _alfaquis_ or doctors of the
faith. They assembled in the great hall of audience of the Alhambra, and
despair was painted in their countenances. Boabdil demanded of them
what was to be done in their present extremity; and their answer was,
"Surrender." The venerable Abul Kazim Abdalmalek, governor of the city,
represented its unhappy state: "Our granaries are nearly exhausted, and
no further supplies are to be expected. The provender for the war-horses
is required as sustenance for the soldiery; the very horses themselves
are killed for food; of seven thousand steeds which once could be sent
into the field, three hundred only remain. Our city contains two hundred
thousand inhabitants, old and young, with each a mouth that calls
piteously for bread."
The xequis and principal citizens declared that the people could no
longer sustain the labors and sufferings of a defence. "And of what avail
is our defence," said they, "when the enemy is determined to persist in
the siege?--what alternative remains but to surrender or to die?"
The heart of Boabdil was touched by this appeal, and he maintained a
gloomy silence. He had cherished some faint hope of relief from the
Sultan of Egypt or the Barbary powers, but it was now at an end; even
if such assistance were to be sent, he had no longer a seaport where it
might debark. The counsellors saw that the resolution of the King was
shaken, and they united their voices in urging him to capitulate.
The valiant Musa alone arose in opposition: "It is yet too early," said
he, "to talk of a surrender. Our means are not exhausted; we have yet one
source of strength remaining, terrible in its effects, and which often
has achieved the most signal victories--it is our despair. Let us rouse
the mass of the people; let us put weapons in their hands; let us fight
the enemy to the very utmost, until we rush upon the points of their
lances. I am ready to lead the way into the thickest of their squadrons;
and much rather would I be numbered among those who fell in the defence
of Granada than of those who survived to capitulate for her surrender!"
The words of Musa were without effect. Boabdil yielded to the general
voice; it was determined to capitulate with the Christian sovereigns; and
the venerable Abul Kazim was sent forth to the camp empowered to treat
for terms.
The old Governor was received with great distinction by Ferdinand and
Isabella, who appointed Gonsalvo of Cordova and Fernando de Zafra,
secretary to the King, to confer with him. All Granada awaited, in
trembling anxiety, the result of his negotiations. After repeated
conferences he at length returned with the ultimate terms of the Catholic
sovereigns. They agreed to suspend all attack for seventy days, at the
end of which time, if no succor should arrive to the Moorish King, the
city of Granada was to be surrendered.
All Christian captives should be liberated without ransom. Boabdil and
his principal cavaliers should take an oath of fealty to the Castilian
crown, and certain valuable territories in the Alpujarra mountains should
be assigned to the Moorish monarch for his maintenance. The Moors of
Granada should become subjects of the Spanish sovereigns, retaining their
possessions, their arms and horses, and yielding up nothing but their
artillery. They should be protected in the exercise of their religion,
and governed by their own laws, administered by cadis of their own faith,
under governors appointed by the sovereigns. They should be exempted from
tribute for three years, after which term they should pay the same that
they had been accustomed to render to their native monarchs. Those who
chose to depart for Africa within three years should be provided with a
passage for themselves and their effects, free of charge, from whatever
port they should prefer.
For the fulfilment of these articles four hundred hostages from the
principal families were required, previous to the surrender, to be
subsequently restored. The son of the King of Granada, and all other
hostages in possession of the Castilian sovereigns, were to be restored
at the same time. Such were the conditions that the vizier Abul Kazim
laid before the council of Granada as the best that could be obtained
from the besieging foe. When the members of the council found that the
awful moment had arrived when they were to sign and seal the perdition of
their empire and blot themselves out as a nation, all firmness deserted
them and many gave way to tears. Musa alone retained an unaltered mien.
"Leave, seniors," cried he, "this idle lamentation to helpless women and
children: we are men--we have hearts, not to shed tender tears, but
drops of blood. I see the spirit of the people so cast down that it is
impossible to save the kingdom. Yet there still remains an alternative
for noble minds--a glorious death! Let us die defending our liberty and
avenging the woes of Granada. Our mother Earth will receive her children
into her bosom, safe from the chains and oppressions of the conqueror;
or, should any fail a sepulchre to hide his remains, he will not want a
sky to cover him. Allah forbid it should be said the nobles of Granada
feared to die in her defence!"
Musa ceased to speak, and a dead silence reigned in the assembly. Boabdil
looked anxiously around and scanned every face; but he read in them all
the anxiety of careworn men, in whose hearts enthusiasm was dead, and
who had grown callous to every chivalrous appeal. "Allah Akbar! God
is great!" exclaimed he; "there is no god but God, and Mahomet is his
prophet! It is in vain to struggle against the will of heaven. Too surely
was it written in the book of fate that I should be unfortunate and the
kingdom expire under my rule."
"Allah Akbar! God is great!" echoed the viziers and alfaquis; "the will
of God be done!" So they all accorded with the King that these evils were
preordained; that it was hopeless to contend with them; and that the
terms offered by the Castilian monarchs were as favorable as could be
expected.
When Musa saw that they were about to sign the treaty of surrender, he
rose in violent indignation: "Do not deceive yourselves," cried he, "nor
think the Christians will be faithful to their promises, or their King as
magnanimous in conquest as he has been victorious in war. Death is the
least we have to fear. It is the plundering and sacking of our city, the
profanation of our mosques, the ruin of our homes, the violation of our
wives and daughters--cruel oppression, bigoted intolerance, whips and
chains, the dungeon, the fagot, and the stake--such are the miseries and
indignities we shall see and suffer; at least, those grovelling souls
will see them who now shrink from an honorable death. For my part, by
Allah, I will never witness them!"
With these words he left the council chamber and strode gloomily through
the Court of Lions and the outer halls of the Alhambra, without deigning
to speak to the obsequious courtiers who attended in them. He repaired
to his dwelling, armed himself at all points, mounted his favorite
war-horse, and, issuing forth from the city by the gate of Elvira, was
never seen or heard of more.[3]
The capitulation for the surrender of Granada was signed on November 25,
1491, and produced a sudden cessation of those hostilities which had
raged for so many years. Christian and Moor might now be seen mingling
courteously on the banks of the Xenel and the Darro, where to have met
a few days previous would have produced a scene of sanguinary contest.
Still, as the Moors might be suddenly aroused to defence, if, within the
allotted term of seventy days, succors should arrive from abroad, and as
they were at all times a rash, inflammable people, the wary Ferdinand
maintained a vigilant watch upon the city, and permitted no supplies of
any kind to enter. His garrisons in the seaports, and his cruisers in the
Straits of Gibraltar, were ordered likewise to guard against any relief
from the Grand Sultan of Egypt or the princes of Barbary. There was no
need of such precautions. Those powers were either too much engrossed by
their own wars or too much daunted by the success of the Spanish arms, to
interfere in a desperate cause; and the unfortunate Moors of Granada were
abandoned to their fate.
The month of December had nearly passed away; the famine became extreme,
and there was no hope of any favorable event within the terms specified
in the capitulation. Boabdil saw that to hold out to the end of the
allotted time would but be to protract the miseries of his people. With
the consent of his council, he determined to surrender the city on
January 6th. On December 30th he sent his grand vizier Yusef Aben Comixa,
with the four hundred hostages, to King Ferdinand, to make known his
intention; bearing him, at the same time, a present of a magnificent
cimeter, and two Arabian steeds superbly caparisoned.
The unfortunate Boabdil was doomed to meet with trouble to the end of his
career. The very next day, the santon or dervis Hamet Aben Zarrax, who
had uttered prophecies and excited commotions on former occasions,
suddenly made his appearance. Whence he came no one knew; it was rumored
that he had been in the mountains of the Alpujarras and on the coast of
Barbary, endeavoring to rouse the Moslems to the relief of Granada. He
was reduced to a skeleton; his eyes glowed like coals in their sockets,
and his speech was little better than frantic raving. He harangued the
populace in the streets and squares, inveighed against the capitulation,
denounced the King and nobles as Moslems only in name, and called upon
the people to sally forth against the unbelievers, for that Allah had
decreed them a signal victory.
Upward of twenty thousand of the populace seized their arms and paraded
the streets with shouts and outcries. The shops and houses were shut up;
the King himself did not dare to venture forth, but remained a kind of
prisoner in the Alhambra. The turbulent multitude continued roaming and
shouting and howling about the city during the day and a part of the
night. Hunger and a wintry tempest tamed their frenzy; and when morning
came the enthusiast who had led them on had disappeared. Whether he had
been disposed of by the emissaries of the King or by the leading men of
the city is not known; his disappearance remains a mystery.
The Moorish King now issued from the Alhambra, attended by his principal
nobles, and harangued the populace. He set forth the necessity of
complying with the capitulation, from the famine that reigned in the
city, the futility of defence, and from the hostages having already been
delivered into the hands of the besiegers. The volatile population agreed
to adhere to the capitulation, and there was even a faint shout of "Long
live Boabdil the unfortunate!" and they all returned to their homes in
perfect tranquillity.
Boabdil immediately sent missives to King Ferdinand, apprising him of
these events, and of his fears lest further delay should produce new
tumults. He proposed, therefore, to surrender the city on the following
day. The Castilian sovereigns assented, with great satisfaction; and
preparations were made in city and camp for this great event, that was to
seal the fate of Granada.
It was a night of doleful lamentings within the walls of the Alhambra;
for the household of Boabdil were preparing to take a last farewell of
that delightful abode. All the royal treasures and the most precious
effects of the Alhambra were hastily packed upon mules; the beautiful
apartments were despoiled, with tears and wailings, by their own
inhabitants. Before the dawn of day a mournful cavalcade moved obscurely
out of a postern gate of the Alhambra and departed through one of the
most retired quarters of the city. It was composed of the family of the
unfortunate Boabdil, which he sent off thus privately that they might not
be exposed to the eyes of scoffers or the exultation of the enemy. The
city was yet buried in sleep as they passed through its silent streets.
The guards at the gate shed tears as they opened it for their departure.
They paused not, but proceeded along the banks of the Xenel on the road
that leads to the Alpujarras, until they arrived at a hamlet at some
distance from the city, where they halted and waited until they should be
joined by King Boabdil.
The sun had scarcely begun to shed his beams upon the summits of the
snowy mountains which rise above Granada when the Christian camp was in
motion. A detachment of horse and foot, led by distinguished cavaliers,
and accompanied by Hernando de Talavera, Bishop of Avila, proceeded to
take possession of the Alhambra and the towers. It had been stipulated
in the capitulation that the detachment sent for this purpose should
not enter by the streets of the city; a road had therefore been opened,
outside of the walls, leading by the Puerta de los Milinos (or "Gate of
the Mills"), to the summit of the Hill of Martyrs, and across the hill to
a postern gate of the Alhambra.
When the detachment arrived at the summit of the hill the Moorish King
came forth from the gate, attended by a handful of cavaliers, leaving his
vizier Yusef Aben Comixa to deliver up the palace. "Go, senior," said
he to the commander of the detachment, "go and take possession of those
fortresses, which Allah has bestowed upon your powerful sovereigns,
in punishment of the sins of the Moors." He said no more, but passed
mournfully on along the same road by which the Spanish cavaliers had
come, descending to the vega to meet the Catholic sovereigns. The troops
entered the Alhambra, the gates of which were wide open, and all its
splendid courts and halls silent and deserted.
In the mean time the Christian court and army poured out of the city
of Santa Fé and advanced across the vega. The King and Queen, with the
Prince and Princess, and the dignitaries and ladies of the court, took
the lead, accompanied by the different orders of monks and friars, and
surrounded by the royal guards splendidly arrayed. The procession moved
slowly forward and paused at the village of Armilla, at the distance of
half a league from the city.
The sovereigns waited here with impatience, their eyes fixed on the lofty
tower of the Alhambra, watching for the appointed signal of possession.
The time that had elapsed since the departure of the detachment seemed
to them more than necessary for the purpose, and the anxious mind of
Ferdinand began to entertain doubts of some commotion in the city. At
length they saw the silver cross, the great standard of this crusade,
elevated on the Torre de la Vala (or "Great Watch-tower") and sparkling
in the sunbeams. This was done by Hernando de Talavera, Bishop of Avila.
Beside it was planted the pennon of the glorious apostle St. James, and a
great shout of "Santiago! Santiago!" rose throughout the army. Lastly
was reared the royal standard by the king of arms, with the shout of
"Castile! Castile! For King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella!" The words were
echoed by the whole army, with acclamations that resounded across the
vega. At sight of these signals of possession the sovereigns sank upon
their knees, giving thanks to God for this great triumph; the whole
assembled host followed their example, and the choristers of the royal
chapel broke forth into the solemn anthem of _Te Deum laudamus_.
The procession now resumed its march with joyful alacrity, to the sound
of triumphant music, until they came to a small mosque, near the banks
of the Xenel, and not far from the foot of the Hill of Martyrs, which
edifice remains to the present day, consecrated as the hermitage of St.
Sebastian. Here the sovereigns were met by the unfortunate Boabdil,
accompanied by about fifty cavaliers and domestics. As he drew near he
would have dismounted in token of homage, but Ferdinand prevented him. He
then proffered to kiss the King's hand, but this sign of vassalage was
likewise declined; whereupon, not to be outdone in magnanimity, he leaned
forward and kissed the right arm of Ferdinand. Queen Isabella also
refused to receive this ceremonial of homage, and, to console him under
his adversity, delivered to him his son, who had remained as hostage ever
since Boabdil's liberation from captivity. The Moorish monarch pressed
his child to his bosom with tender emotion, and they seemed mutually
endeared to each other by their misfortunes.
He then delivered the keys of the city to King Ferdinand, with an air of
mingled melancholy and resignation. "These keys," said he, "are the last
relics of the Arabian empire in Spain; thine, O King, are our trophies,
our kingdom, and our person. Such is the will of God! Receive them with
the clemency thou hast promised, and which we look for at thy hands."
King Ferdinand restrained his exultation with an air of serene
magnanimity. "Doubt not our promises," replied he, "nor that thou shalt
regain from our friendship the prosperity of which the fortune of war has
deprived thee."
On receiving the keys, King Ferdinand handed them to the Queen; she in
her turn presented them to her son Prince Juan, who delivered them to the
Count de Tendilla, that brave and loyal cavalier being appointed alcaid
of the city and captain-general of the kingdom of Granada.
Having surrendered the last symbol of power, the unfortunate Boabdil
continued on toward the Alpujarras, that he might not behold the entrance
of the Christians into his capital. His devoted band of cavaliers
followed him in gloomy silence; but heavy sighs burst from their bosoms
as shouts of joy and strains of triumphant music were borne on the breeze
from the victorious army.