Chapter XCIX
SURRENDER OF GRANADA.
The night preceding the surrender 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 most precious effects 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 mother of
Boabdil, the sultana Ayxa la Horra, rode on in silence, with dejected
yet dignified demeanor; but his wife Morayma and all the females
of his household gave way to loud lamentations as they looked
back upon their favorite abode, now a mass of gloomy towers
behind them. They were attended by the ancient domestics of the
household, and by a small guard of veteran Moors loyally attached
to the fallen monarch, and who would have sold their lives dearly
in defence of his family. 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 Xenil on the road that leads to
the Alpuxarras, 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 night which had passed so gloomily in the
sumptuous halls of the Alhambra had been one of joyful anticipation
in the Christian camp. In the evening proclamation had been made
that Granada was to be surrendered on the following day, and the
troops were all ordered to assemble at an early hour under their
several banners. The cavaliers, pages, and esquires were all
charged to array themselves in their richest and most splendid style
for the occasion, and even the royal family determined to lay by the
mourning they had recently assumed for the sudden death of the
prince of Portugal, the husband of the princess Isabella. In a
clause of the capitulation it had been stipulated that the troops
destined to take possession should not traverse the city, but should
ascend to the Alhambra by a road opened for the purpose outside
of the walls. This was to spare the feelings of the afflicted
inhabitants, and to prevent any angry collision between them and
their conquerors. So rigorous was Ferdinand in enforcing this
precaution that the soldiers were prohibited under pain of death
from leaving the ranks to enter into the city.
The rising sun had scarce shed his rosy beams upon the snowy
summits of the Sierra Nevada when three signal guns boomed
heavily from the lofty fortress of the Alhambra. It was the
concerted sign that all was ready for the surrender. The Christian
army forthwith poured out of the city, or rather camp, of Santa Fe,
and advanced across the Vega. The king and queen, with the prince
and princess, 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.
In the mean time, the grand cardinal of Spain, Don Pedro Gonzalez de
Mendoza, escorted by three thousand foot and a troop of cavalry, and
accompanied by the commander Don Gutierrez de Cardenas and a
number of prelates and hidalgos, crossed the Xenil and proceeded in
the advance to ascend to the Alhambra and take possession of that
royal palace and fortress. The road which had been opened for the
purpose led by the Puerta de los Molinos, or Gate of Mills, up a
defile to the esplanade on the summit of the Hill of Martyrs. At the
approach of this detachment the Moorish king sallied forth from a
postern gate of the Alhambra, having left his vizier, Yusef Aben
Comixa, to deliver up the palace. The gate by which he sallied
passed through a lofty tower of the outer wall, called the Tower of
the Seven Floors (de los siete suelos). He was accompanied by fifty
cavaliers, and approached the grand cardinal on foot. The latter
immediately alighted, and advanced to meet him with the utmost
respect. They stepped aside a few paces, and held a brief
conversation in an under tone, when Boabdil, raising his voice,
exclaimed, “Go, senor, and take possession of those fortresses in
the name of the powerful sovereigns to whom God has been pleased
to deliver them in reward of their great merits and in punishment of
the sins of the Moors.” The grand cardinal sought to console him in
his reverses, and offered him the use of his own tent during any
time he might sojourn in the camp. Boabdil thanked him for the
courteous offer, adding some words of melancholy import, and then,
taking leave of him gracefully, passed mournfully on to meet the
Catholic sovereigns, descending to the Vega by the same road by
which the cardinal had come. The latter, with the prelates and
cavaliers who attended him, entered the Alhambra, the gates of
which were thrown wide open by the alcayde Aben Comixa. At the
same time the Moorish guards yielded up their arms, and the towers
and battlements were taken possession of by the Christian troops.
While these transactions were passing in the Alhambra and its
vicinity the sovereigns remained with their retinue and guards near
the village of Armilla, their eyes fixed on the towers of the royal
fortress, 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 Vela, 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-at-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 king now advanced with a splendid escort of cavalry and the
sound of trumpets, until he came to a small mosque near the banks
of the Xenil, 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 he beheld the unfortunate king of Granada
approaching on horseback at the head of his slender retinue. Boabdil
as he drew near made a movement to dismount, but, as had previously
been concerted, Ferdinand prevented him. He then offered to kiss the
king’s hand, which according to arrangement was likewise declined,
whereupon he leaned forward and kissed the king’s right arm; at the
same time he delivered the keys of the city 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.”*
*Abarca, Anales de Aragon, Rey 30, c. 3.
King Ferdinand restrained his exultation into 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.”
Being informed that Don Inigo Lopez de Mendoza, the good count
of Tendilla, was to be governor of the city, Boabdil drew from his
finger a gold ring set with a precious stone and presented it to the
count. “With this ring,” said he, “Granada has been governed; take
it and govern with it, and God make you more fortunate than I!”*
*This ring remained in the possession of the descendants of the
count until the death of the marques Don Inigo, the last male heir,
who died in Malaga, without children, in 1656. The ring was then
lost through inadvertence and ignorance of its value, Dona Maria,
the sister of the marques, being absent in Madrid–“Alcantara,” 1.
4, c.18.
He then proceeded to the village of Armilla, where the queen
Isabella remained with her escort and attendants. The queen, like
her husband, declined all acts of homage, and received him with her
accustomed grace and benignity. She at the same time delivered to
him his son, who had been held as a hostage for the fulfilment of
the capitulation. Boabdil pressed his child to his bosom with tender
emotion, and they seemed mutually endeared to each other by their
misfortunes.*
*Zurita, Anales de Aragon, lib. 20, cap. 92.
Having rejoined his family, the unfortunate Boabdil continued on
toward the Alpuxarras, 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.
Having rejoined his family, Boabdil set forth with a heavy heart for
his allotted residence in the valley of Purchena. At two leagues’
distance the cavalcade, winding into the skirts of the Alpuxarras,
ascended an eminence commanding the last view of Granada. As
they arrived at this spot the Moors paused involuntarily to take a
farewell gaze at their beloved city, which a few steps more would
shut from their sight for ever. Never had it appeared so lovely in
their eyes. The sunshine, so bright in that transparent climate, lit
up each tower and minaret, and rested gloriously upon the crowning
battlements of the Alhambra, while the Vega spread its enamelled
bosom of verdure below, glistening with the silver windings of the
Xenil. The Moorish cavaliers gazed with a silent agony of tenderness
and grief upon that delicious abode, the scene of their loves and
pleasures. While they yet looked a light cloud of smoke burst forth
from the citadel, and presently a peal of artillery, faintly heard,
told that the city was taken possession of, and the throne of the
Moslem kings was lost for ever. The heart of Boabdil, softened by
misfortunes and overcharged with grief, could no longer contain
itself. “Allah Akbar! God is great!” said he but the words of
resignation died upon his lips and he burst into tears.
The mother, the intrepid Ayxa, was indignant at his weakness.
“You do well,” said she, “to weep like a woman for what you
failed to defend like a man.”
The vizier Aben Comixa endeavored to console his royal master.
“Consider, senor,” said he, “that the most signal misfortunes often
render men as renowned as the most prosperous achievements,
provided they sustain them with magnanimity.”
The unhappy monarch, however, was not to be consoled; his tears
continued to flow. “Allah Akbar!” exclaimed he, “when did misfortune
ever equal mine?”
From this circumstance the hill, which is not far from Padul, took
the name of Feg Allah Akbar, but the point of view commanding the
last prospect of Granada is known among Spaniards by the name
of “El ultimo suspiro del Moro,” or “The last sigh of the Moor.”
Nguồn: Wikisource English — Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada/Chapter XCIX. Văn bản được nhập và định dạng lại; CC BY-SA 4.0, có thể áp dụng điều khoản bổ sung của tác phẩm.