53. CHAPTER LIII.
Commotions in Granada.
The capitulation for the surrender of Granada was
signed on the 25th of November, 1481, 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 sea-ports, and his cruisers in the
Straits of Gibraltar, were ordered likewise to guard
against any relief from the grand soldan 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 term 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 the
sixth of January. On the 30th of December, 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 scimitar, 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 dervise Hamet Aben Zarrax, the same
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 Alpuxarras, 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.
Upwards 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.[1]
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.
In the dejection of his spirits, the unfortunate Boabdil
attributed to himself the miseries of the country.
“It was my crime in ascending the throne in rebellion
against my father,” said he, mournfully, “which
has brought these woes upon the kingdom; but Allah
has grievously visited my sins upon my head. For
your sake, my people, I have now made this treaty,
to protect you from the sword, your little ones from
famine, your wives and daughters from the outrages
of war; and to secure you in the enjoyment of your
properties, your liberties, your laws, and your religion,
under a sovereign of happier destinies than the ill-starred
Boabdil.”
The versatile population were touched by the humility
of their sovereign—they 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,
apprizing 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
mother of Boabdil, the sultana Ayxa la Horra, rode
on in silence, with dejected yet dignified demeanor;
but his wife Zorayma, 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 Xenel 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.
