CHAPTER LXXXIII

Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada

by Washington Irving

CHAPTER LXXXIII, CHRONICLE OF THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA by Washington Irving

EVENTS AT GRANADA SUBSEQUENT TO THE SUBMISSION OF
EL ZAGAL.


Who can tell when to rejoice in this fluctuating world? Every wave
of prosperity has its reacting surge, and we are often overwhelmed
by the very billow on which we thought to be wafted into the haven
of our hopes. When Yusef Aben Comixa, the vizier of Boabdil,
surnamed El Chico, entered the royal saloon of the Alhambra and
announced the capitulation of El Zagal, the heart of the youthful
monarch leaped for joy. His great wish was accomplished; his uncle
was defeated and dethroned, and he reigned without a rival, sole
monarch of Granada. At length he was about to enjoy the fruits of
his humiliation and vassalage. He beheld his throne fortified by the
friendship and alliance of the Castilian monarchs; there could be no
question, therefore, of its stability. "Allah Akbar! God is great!"
exclaimed he. "Rejoice with me, O Yusef; the stars have ceased
their persecution. Henceforth let no man call me El Zogoybi."

In the first moment of his exultation Boabdil would have ordered
public rejoicings, but the shrewd Yusef shook his head. "The tempest
has ceased from one point of the heavens," said he, "but it may
begin to rage from another. A troubled sea is beneath us, and we
are surrounded by rocks and quicksands: let my lord the king defer
rejoicings until all has settled into a calm." El Chico, however,
could not remain tranquil in this day of exultation: he ordered his
steed to be sumptuously caparisoned, and, issuing out of the gate of
the Alhambra, descended, with glittering retinue, along the avenue
of trees and fountains, into the city to receive the acclamations of
the populace. As he entered the great square of the Vivarrambla he
beheld crowds of people in violent agitation, but as he approached
what was his surprise to hear groans and murmurs and bursts of
execration! The tidings had spread through Granada that Muley
Abdallah el Zagal had been driven to capitulate, and that all his
territories had fallen into the hands of the Christians. No one
had inquired into the particulars, but all Granada had been thrown
into a ferment of grief and indignation. In the heat of the moment
old Muley was extolled to the skies as a patriot prince who had
fought to the last for the salvation of his country--as a mirror of
monarchs, scorning to compromise the dignity of his crown by any
act of vassalage. Boabdil, on the contrary, had looked on exultingly
at the hopeless yet heroic struggle of his uncle; he had rejoiced in
the defeat of the faithful and the triumph of unbelievers; he had
aided in the dismemberment and downfall of the empire. When they
beheld him riding forth in gorgeous state on what they considered a
day of humiliation for all true Moslems, they could not contain their
rage, and amidst the clamors that met his ears Boabdil more than
once heard his name coupled with the epithets of traitor and renegado.

Shocked and discomfited, the youthful monarch returned in confusion
to the Alhambra, shut himself up within its innermost courts, and
remained a kind of voluntary prisoner until the first burst of popular
feeling should subside. He trusted that it would soon pass away--
that the people would be too sensible of the sweets of peace to
repine at the price at which it was obtained; at any rate, he trusted
to the strong friendship of the Christian sovereigns to secure him
even against the factions of his subjects.

The first missives from the politic Ferdinand showed Boabdil the
value of his friendship. The Christian monarch reminded him of a
treaty which he had made when captured in the city of Loxa. By
this he had engaged that in case the Catholic sovereigns should
capture the cities of Guadix, Baza, and Almeria he would surrender
Granada into their hands within a limited time, and accept in
exchange certain Moorish towns to be held by him as their vassal.
Guadix, Baza, and Almeria had now fallen; Ferdinand called upon
him, therefore, to fulfil his engagement.

If the unfortunate Boabdil had possessed the will, he had not the
power to comply with this demand. He was shut up in the Alhambra,
while a tempest of popular fury raged without. Granada was thronged
by refugees from the captured towns, many of them disbanded
soldiers, and others broken-down citizens rendered fierce and
desperate by ruin. All railed at him as the real cause of their
misfortunes. How was he to venture forth in such a storm? Above
all, how was he to talk to such men of surrender? In his reply to
Ferdinand he represented the difficulties of his situation, and that,
so far from having control over his subjects, his very life was in
danger from their turbulence. He entreated the king, therefore, to
rest satisfied for the present with his recent conquests, promising
that should he be able to regain full empire over his capital and
its inhabitants, it would be but to rule over them as vassal to the
Castilian Crown.

Ferdinand was not to be satisfied with such a reply. The time was
come to bring his game of policy to a close, and to consummate
his conquest by seating himself on the throne of the Alhambra.
Professing to consider Boabdil as a faithless ally who had broken
his plighted word, he discarded him from his friendship, and
addressed a second letter, not to him, but to the commanders and
council of the city. He demanded a complete surrender of the place,
with all the arms in the possession either of the citizens or of others
who had recently taken refuge within its walls. If the inhabitants
should comply with this summons, he promised them the indulgent
terms granted to Baza, Guadix, and Almeria; if they should refuse,
he threatened them with the fate of Malaga.*

*Cura de los Palacios, cap. 96.


This message produced the greatest commotion in the city. The
inhabitants of the Alcaiceria, that busy hive of traffic, and all others
who had tasted the sweets of gainful commerce during the late
cessation of hostilities, were for securing their golden advantages
by timely submission: others, who had wives and children, looked
on them with tenderness and solicitude, and dreaded by resistance
to bring upon them the horrors of slavery.

On the other hand, Granada was crowded with men from all parts,
ruined by the war, exasperated by their sufferings, and eager only
for revenge--with others who had been reared amidst hostilities, who
had lived by the sword, and whom a return of peace would leave
without home or hope. Besides these, there were others no less fiery
and warlike in disposition, but animated by a loftier spirit. These
were valiant and haughty cavaliers of the old chivalrous lineages,
who had inherited a deadly hatred to the Christians from a long line
of warrior ancestors, and to whom the idea was worse than death
that Granada--illustrious Granada, for ages the seat of Moorish
grandeur and delight--should become the abode of unbelievers.

Among these cavaliers the most eminent was Muza Abul Gazan. He
was of royal lineage, of a proud and generous nature, and a form
combining manly strength and beauty. None could excel him in the
management of the horse and dextrous use of all kinds of weapons:
his gracefulness and skill in the tourney were the theme of praise
among the Moorish dames, and his prowess in the field had made him
the terror of the enemy. He had long repined at the timid policy of
Boabdil, and endeavored to counteract its enervating effects and
keep alive the martial spirit of Granada. For this reason he had
promoted jousts and tiltings with the reed, and all those other
public games which bear the semblance of war. He endeavored
also to inculcate into his companions-in-arms those high chivalrous
sentiments which lead to valiant and magnanimous deeds, but which
are apt to decline with the independence of a nation. The generous
efforts of Muza had been in a great measure successful: he was the
idol of the youthful cavaliers; they regarded him as a mirror of
chivalry and endeavored to imitate his lofty and heroic virtues.

When Muza heard the demand of Ferdinand that they should deliver
up their arms, his eye flashed fire. "Does the Christian king think
that we are old men," said he, "and that staffs will suffice us? or
that we are women, and can be contented with distaffs? Let him know
that a Moor is born to the spear and scimetar--to career the steed,
bend the bow, and launch the javelin: deprive him of these, and you
deprive him of his nature. If the Christian king desires our arms,
let him come and win them, but let him win them dearly. For my part,
sweeter were a grave beneath the walls of Granada, on the spot I had
died to defend, than the richest couch within her palaces earned by
submission to the unbeliever."

The words of Muza were received with enthusiastic shouts by the
warlike part of the populace. Granada once more awoke, as a warrior
shaking off a disgraceful lethargy. The commanders and council
partook of the public excitement, and despatched a reply to the
Christian sovereigns, declaring that they would suffer death rather
than surrender their city.