THE FALL OF GRANADA.
Granada, the last stronghold of the Moors in Spain, capital city of
the delightful Andalusia, since called by the Spaniards “the Land of
the most Holy Virgin,” was finally invested by the Castilian host. In
vain flashed signal fires from the _atalayas_ on surrounding hills; no
friendly succour could now reach the beleaguered city, either from the
coast, from the mountains, or from Africa. It lay like an Oriental gem,
a “diamond in an emerald setting” with the green vega outspread at its
feet, embossed with olive groves, glistening with silver streams, and
with a background of rugged mountains flashing the sun and reflecting
the moonlight from their snow–clad summits.
In this beautiful city the Moors had lived two hundred and fifty years.
Its downfall was hastened by the rivalry of two tribes or factions
among the Moors themselves. Those of the tribe of the Abencerrages were
the most noble and humane, the most favourably disposed toward the
Spaniards, and are said to have been descended from the ancient kings
of Arabia. But the fierce Zegris, their rivals, were of African blood,
hated the Christians intensely, and retained to the last all the savage
traits of the desert Bedouins. Not many years before the advent of the
Christians into the vega, the Zegris had massacred the Abencerrages,
beheaded the flower of their noble warriors, and the fountain basin of
the Alhambra hall which still retains their name was filled with their
blood.
The Zegris had conquered, but in their endeavours to overcome their
domestic enemies they had so weakened their own forces that the final
triumph of their hated Christian foes was the more easily assured.
Ferdinand and his army came in the blossoming springtime, when the
glorious vega was spangled with flowers and all Nature joyous. “He will
stay through the summer, and in the autumn, as the winter rains come
on, will go away,” said the Moors. “If we can hold out till winter, we
can at least survive another year. Perhaps help will then arrive from
Africa or from the East.”
But the spring faded into summer and through the long, hot months the
Castilian army lay intrenched; autumn came, and still no signs of
departure; instead, in place of the city of tents, with which the plain
had been flecked and whitened, arose the stone city of Santa Fé, which
exists in our time, and which may be seen to–day, covering the site of
the Christian camp.
Then the Moors despaired of succour indeed, for hitherto it had been
Ferdinand’s custom to retire to his capital for the winter season,
and campaign in summer only. The Moors had planted no crops, reaped
no harvests, and now gaunt famine was staring them in the face; the
_cavalgadas_ of supplies, sent to them by friendly chiefs, were
captured by the watchful Christians, and their condition was most
pitiable. Still, the siege had not been without its incidents of
startling character, its display of chivalrous deeds of high renown;
for, after the arrival of Isabella at the camp, the spirited cavaliers
vied with each other as to which should perform the most daring
deed, until, the Moors usually getting the best of those individual
encounters, Ferdinand forbade them.
However, you may see, high up between the towers of the church
subsequently erected at Santa Fé, the marble effigy of a Moor’s head,
which reminds us of the most notable of those encounters. One of the
most defiant and insolent of the Moorish cavaliers was Yarfe the
Moslem, who carried his insolence so far as one day to dash into the
Spanish camp and throw his spear into the tent of the queen. To offset
this reckless deed, one of the Spanish _caballeros_, seeing the gate
of Granada one day but negligently guarded, passed the sentinels and
rode into the city, right up to the door of the great mosque, against
which, with the point of his poniard, he affixed a piece of wood,
with “_Ave Maria_” printed on it. Then he wheeled about and clattered
down the street, now thronging with astonished and angered Moors, and
miraculously escaped, hurling cries of defiance at his enemies as he
passed through the gate.
When the Moslems found the Christian emblem fastened to the door of
their sacred mosque, they were beside themselves with rage, and the
next day gigantic Yarfe attached the bit of wood to the tail of his
horse and paraded with it, dragging in the dust, before the Spanish
army. This insult was not to be borne, and as he defied any one of
the cavaliers to meet him in single combat, Ferdinand was overwhelmed
with petitions for permission to engage him. He reluctantly gave
consent to a fiery young Castilian, Garcilasso de la Vega, who, after
kneeling at the feet of his beloved queen, armed himself completely
and sallied forth to fight the Moor. His foe treated him at first with
contempt, being almost twice his size and more finely mounted; but what
Garcilasso lacked in stature he made up in spirit, and in the sight of
the Christian army, and of the Moslems gathered on the battlements, he
slew the infidel after a terrible combat, cut off his head, and took it
to the tent of Isabella.
The site of this encounter is marked to–day with a large stone cross
covered with a canopy, and between the church towers of Santa Fé still
rests the marble head of Yarfe the Moor. Across the vega, at Zubia,
stand several great stone crosses, also to commemorate the narrow
escape of the queen, one day, from capture by the Moors. Yet another
reminder of that memorable siege of Granada is the commemorative chapel
on the bank of the river Xenil, which indicates the spot where Boabdil
el Chico surrendered the keys of the capital; for at last, as we know,
Granada capitulated, to famine rather than assault, to overwhelming
numbers rather than to superior feats of arms.
On the 2d of January, 1492, the Moorish king came down from the
fortified palace on the Alhambra hill with a small retinue, and
met the Castilian sovereigns on the right bank of the Xenil. “El
Rey Chico”—the Little King—gave up what his fiercer ancestors, and
particularly his own father, would have fought to defend till the
last gasp. His real power had departed; the emblems of it he handed
to Ferdinand, saying: “These keys, O king, are thine, since Allah
hath decreed it: use thy success with clemency and thy power with
moderation.” The exit of the “Little King” was more dramatic than his
action on the stage of war; yet he went not out as a warrior, but as a
woman. Within sight of the battlements of Granada is a gap in the hills
which surround the plain, and here it is related Boabdil paused to look
his last on the fair city he had so ignominiously abandoned, and wept
at the remembrance of his misfortunes. And his mother reproached him
with—“You do well to weep, like a woman, for what you could not defend
like a man!” The scene of this incident is still known as “_El último
suspiro del Moro_,” or “The last sigh of the Moor.”
But it was not his last sigh by any means, for he lived for years
thereafter: lived to see the dismemberment of his empire, the
scattering of his people, and finally to die in a foreign land,
in the service of the King of Morocco. In the capitulation it was
stipulated that Boabdil and his subjects should do homage to the
Castilian sovereigns, that they should be protected in their religious
exercises, be governed by their own _cadis_, be exempt from tribute
for three years, and within that period all who wished to emigrate to
Africa should be furnished with free transportation thither. Boabdil
was granted lands in the Alpuxarras Mountains, and at first lived
peacefully in a secluded valley; but eventually, through the treachery
or mistaken zeal of his vizier, he parted with his possessions in Spain
for a sum of money, and went over to Africa, where travellers may see
what is alleged to be his tomb, in the city of Tlemcen in Algiers.
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