The mountaineer subjects of Al-Zagal regarded with anything but approval his renunciation of his rights of sovereignty and the zeal he displayed in the service of the national enemy. After the capture of Alhendin they rebelled, declared for Boabdil, and attempted the murder of the venerable monarch whom in the day of his glory they had honored with almost the reverence due to a divinity. Al-Zagal, well aware of what the consequences would be if he remained, signified his willingness to surrender the paltry dignity he had received in exchange for his abdication for five million maravedis and free transportation to Africa, which had been among the conditions of the treaty. Ferdinand eagerly accepted his proposition; the Moslem prince with a great following passed the sea; and thus the Spanish monarchy not only acquired a considerable increase of territory, but was delivered from a vassal who lacked only the provocation, which might at any time arise, to prove a most dangerous enemy. Nothing in mediæval history is more sad than the ultimate fate of this brave old warrior who had faced death with undaunted spirit on a hundred fields of battle. The perfidious Sultan of Fez, in ruthless violation of the laws of hospitality, plundered, imprisoned, and blinded him. The dashing general, who had once been the idol of the populace of Granada and the pride of its soldiery, wandered for many years a beggar, clad in rags, through the cities of Northern Africa, an object of pity and curiosity to the rabble of the Desert, by whom he was pointed out to strangers as the former King of Andalusia.
It was at this time that the Quixotic personage Pulgar, whose reckless spirit delighted in the achievement of hazardous undertakings, which, to men of rational judgment, seemed foolhardy and impracticable, performed the most noted and perilous of all his feats. With fifty followers he set out one night from Alhama to burn the city of Granada. Guided by a faithful renegade, the party remained concealed during the day in an obscure and unfrequented valley of the sierra, and, as darkness came on, they silently approached the walls enclosing the channel of the Darro until they reached a bridge. Under this, six were detailed to remain and guard the horses, while Pulgar and the others entered the city. The Moslem capital was plunged in slumber, and the adventurers, issuing from a sewer into the silent streets, proceeded to the principal mosque. There Pulgar, in a characteristic spirit of bravado, unfolded a paper on which was inscribed the legend, “Ave Maria,” and pinned it with his dagger to the bronze-plated door. Then hastening to the Alcaiceria, or Silk-Market, he produced a fagot with which he was provided and prepared to start the conflagration. At the last moment, it was discovered that the tinder, indispensable for this purpose, had been left at the mosque. While trying to strike fire with flint and steel, a patrol suddenly appeared. The Spaniards, drawing their swords, drove back the enemy, and, retiring to the spot where they had left their companions, all rode rapidly away. This exploit of Pulgar, which appealed so strongly to the romantic natures of his countrymen, gained for him also the admiring commendation of his sovereigns, who granted him during his lifetime the seat of honor in the cathedral choir, and at his death placed his tomb upon the very spot where he knelt to plant his dagger in the door of the great Moslem temple.
Everything now being in readiness for the final campaign, Ferdinand, on the twentieth of April, 1491, at the head of fifty thousand men in two grand divisions, again entered the Vega. The Marquis of Villena was despatched to the Alpujarras to destroy the provisions collected there for the use of the capital. Then the army went into permanent quarters in an intrenched camp near Granada, where it was soon joined by the Queen. On account of its great population, as well as the desire to preserve as mementos of conquest its splendid architectural monuments, it had been determined to reduce the city by famine. Parties were organized to scour the country in every direction and cut off all supplies. Frequent expeditions, made in force, swept for a radius of many miles every trace of verdure from the face of the land. The beautiful suburbs, which had hitherto been exempt from hostile violence, now became a prey to the ruthless destroyer. In vain, Boabdil, charging at the head of his cavalry, endeavored to stay his resistless progress. His soldiers were repulsed; his guard was cut to pieces; and he himself only escaped the evils of a second and a more disastrous captivity through the superior swiftness of his horse. The orchards and vineyards on the western side of the city were laid waste, and all the buildings within reach of the Spaniards—castles, mills, villas, palaces, and towers—were involved in one common destruction.
Two months after the resumption of hostilities, the carelessness of a servant of the royal household set fire to a tent; and the conflagration caused by the accident swept away in a few moments the entire Christian camp. Great confusion ensued; the troops were called to arms, and means at once taken to repel an attack should one be attempted; but the enemy remained quietly behind his defences. Any fallacious hopes that might have arisen in the minds of the Moors as a result of this catastrophe were soon dissipated. A substantial city, regularly laid out and fortified, guarded by ditches and gates, and provided with an ample square in the centre for the parade and exercise of troops, soon rose upon the site of the ruined encampment, and was named, with the characteristic piety of its founders, Santa Fé.
The siege of Granada, while one of the most important in the history of the Reconquest, was not, like many others, diversified by any incidents of absorbing interest. An occasional skirmish with indecisive results; a foray and the burning of some isolated castle; a chivalric encounter of knights challenged by mortal defiance; a perpetual succession of rounds and patrols,—such were the monotonous events which characterized the investment of the last Moslem stronghold. Every reliance was placed upon the blockade, and the use of heavy ordnance was not adopted at any time in the reduction of the city. The intrepidity of the Moslems was never more conspicuous than in this their final struggle for national existence. The rapid and terrifying evolutions, the wild and furious charge, the unsuspected and treacherous ambuscade peculiar to their tactics, were all employed with audacious courage and crafty resource, but with indifferent success. Before long, the great multitude within the walls began to experience the agonies of hunger. With want came discontent; with discontent, clamorous demands for capitulation, and ominous murmurs of sedition and violence. The infuriated populace swarmed in the public places, threatening the wealthy with pillage and the monarch with death. The prospect of the triumph of the odious infidel aroused the fanaticism of the santons, who, counselling resistance to the end, communicated their frenzy to their superstitious followers, thus vastly increasing the difficulties of the situation. Outside of the citadel anarchy reigned supreme. The doors of all the shops and houses were closed and barricaded. The nobles and the principal citizens took refuge in the Alhambra; and there an assembly of all those of conspicuous dignity and influence was held to determine on the course to be pursued. The vote was unanimous in favor of submission. Boabdil acquiesced in silence; and Abul-Kasim, the governor of the city, was deputed to visit the Christian camp in the character of envoy and open negotiations relative to surrender. Received with every mark of courtesy, the Moorish ambassador obtained at once the concession of a truce of thirty days’ duration from the first day of December. The articles of capitulation were much more liberal than any heretofore granted to the vanquished Moslems, but in their scope and significance there was a general similarity. Rendered wise by experience, the Moors endeavored to have the treaty guaranteed by the Pope, and its observance sworn to by the Spanish monarchs; but the omission of these doubtful warrants of security was obtained by the bribery of their commissioners, who quietly and successfully ignored the instructions of their countrymen. In consideration of the delivery of Granada and its surrounding territory, the Catholic sovereigns bound themselves and their royal descendants to forever permit the Moors to practise without molestation or injury the rites of their faith and the observances prescribed by their customs and their laws. Their mosques were to be always consecrated to their worship, and their sanctity was to be inviolate and never profaned by the presence of a misbeliever. All regulations relative to the collection of revenues for sacred purposes were to continue in force; Moslem judges were to preside in the tribunals; and the laws which governed the transfers of real property, as well as those of inheritance and every form of civil rights, were to remain unaltered. In regard to public instruction, absolute independence was solemnly guaranteed, and the interference of Christians with schools or with anything pertaining thereto was prohibited. Unqualified liberty of conscience was conceded to the children of mingled Spanish and Moorish blood; all debts and obligations previously incurred were to be faithfully discharged and all penalties exacted; disputes between Christian and Moslem were to be settled amicably by arbitration; and the alguazils and other executive officers appointed under the Moslem code were to discharge, without interruption, their various and respective duties. In other articles were embodied sanitary and police regulations,—the distinction of markets, the preservation and purity of the waters, and numerous matters of inferior importance arising from the dissimilarity of social customs and the wide divergence exhibited by the forms and ceremonies of two irreconcilable religions. In addition to these were certain provisions defining the rights and privileges conferred upon Boabdil and his relatives, and the enumeration of the possessions they were hereafter to enjoy. As a return for the invaluable services he had rendered his enemies at the expense of his country, the richest portions of the royal patrimony, embracing twelve extensive districts, were declared to be vested in perpetuity in himself and his descendants; all the members of his family received large estates; the Valley of Purchena was allotted to him as the principality for which he was to render homage; and an ample pension was added by the apparent gratitude or suspicious generosity of the conquerors.
On the second day of January, 1492, preparations were made for the relinquishment of the last vestige of Moslem power in the Spanish Peninsula. Seven hundred and eighty years had elapsed since the army of Tarik had shattered and overthrown the crumbling fabric of the Visigothic monarchy. As a result of that event, a handful of despised and neglected peasants, hidden in the mist-clad mountains of the North, had formed a nucleus around which had clustered the elements of a great nation and the fame and prestige of an invincible soldiery. The conquest just achieved, important as it was, was still but trifling in comparison with those which, in the succeeding century, were to be gained by the arms of that far-famed and chivalrous nation. The wealth of the Spanish Arabs was insignificant when contrasted with the incalculable treasures of Mexico and Peru. The capture of Malaga and Granada was almost inappreciable in national glory and political effect when compared with the battle of Pavia or the siege and sack of Rome. But it was still a magnificent triumph; the culmination of centuries of battle; the realization of the dreams of many generations of princes and prelates, the accomplishment of whose aims seemed often chimerical and hopeless. Every circumstance was called into play, every resource adopted, to make the spectacle of the rendition of the Moslem capital imposing and memorable. The entire army was drawn up in military array. The field was gay with waving banners, burnished armor, many-colored mantles, and surcoats of silk and cloth of gold. All the splendid chivalry of Castile were present; some, representatives of ancient and illustrious houses who traced their lineage back to the court of Roderick; others, whose patents of nobility of more recent date had been won in long and honorable warfare against the infidel. Among these were to be seen the white turban and striped burnous of the Arab, who would have resented the epithets of traitor and renegade, but who, actuated by inherited prejudice or tribal jealousy, had not hesitated to draw his sword against his brethren. Not less conspicuous than the nobles were the prelates, in full canonicals, preceded by Cardinal Mendoza, Primate of Spain, one of whose attendants bore the massive cross, still preserved in the Cathedral of Toledo, soon to be raised, symbolizing the triumph of Christian over Moorish superstition, on the loftiest tower of the Alhambra. The heralds who preceded the royal escort were dressed in tabards emblazoned with the arms of Castile and Leon in silver, gold, and scarlet. In the centre of a brilliant group came Isabella, attired in rich brocade and mounted upon a white palfrey, whose housings of embroidered velvet swept the ground.
There, too, was Ferdinand, proud, stern, impassive; his stolid features bearing no evidence of the exultation he must have felt, yet willing to concede to his martial consort the larger portion of the credit attaching to the crowning glory of the Christian cause. Around the monarchs were assembled the princes of the blood, the great dignitaries of the realm in their robes and bearing their insignia of office, the haughty grandees, the female members of the Queen’s household in splendid costumes and glittering jewels, the famous warriors whose prowess had made their names familiar to every nation in Europe,—sheathed in polished steel, with lance and buckler, with pennon and heraldic device,—in all a picture worthily representing the pomp and the magnificence, the pride and the renown, of the Spanish monarchy. As the splendid procession swept forward amidst the blare of trumpets, the strains of martial music, the waving of banners, and the tumultuous applause of thousands, and halted on an elevation near the Genil, a gate of the Alhambra swung slowly open. From it issued a band of horsemen, whose appearance and dress indicated that their origin and customs were foreign to the continent of Europe. At their head rode a cavalier encased in armor exquisitely damascened, and whose fair complexion and tawny beard offered a striking contrast to the swarthy features of those who formed his retinue. The latter were clothed in flowing robes of silk woven in stripes of every hue, revealing, when moved by the morning breeze, shining coats of mail and scimetars set with gems and inlaid with gold.
The interview of the sovereigns was short and almost devoid of ceremony. Obsequious to the last, Boabdil attempted to dismount and kiss the hand of his conqueror, but the Spanish King, with generous and unaffected courtesy, prevented this act of voluntary abasement, insisted on his remaining mounted, and received the kiss upon his sleeve. With a few words, which betrayed the bitterness of his mortification and anguish, the Moslem prince surrendered the keys of the city to Ferdinand. He gave them to Isabella, and she, in turn, transferred these evidences of possession and sovereignty to the Count of Tendilla, who had been appointed Governor of Granada. The latter, with many nobles as escort and a garrison of five thousand men, without delay entered and took possession of the Alhambra, and raised upon the tower of Comares the gold and silver cross of the Archiepiscopate of Toledo, the royal ensign, and the consecrated standard of Santiago. The appearance of the sacred emblem and the familiar banners upon the battlements of the Moorish citadel aroused the wildest enthusiasm among the spectators. The priests of the royal chapel chanted the Te Deum Laudamus. Thousands of gray and battle-scarred veterans fell upon their knees and wept for joy. The heralds, in all the magnificence of their striking costumes, made proclamation, by sound of trumpet, that the authority of the Moslems had forever vanished from the Peninsula in the words, “Castilla! Castilla! Granada! Granada! por los reyes Don Fernando y Doña Isabel?” The stately Castilian nobles, in the glittering panoply of war, one after another, then came forward, knelt before Isabella, and kissed her hand in homage for her newly acquired dignity as Queen of Granada.
Followed by the principal Moorish officials, some of whom, including the vizier, were secret renegades and in the pay of Ferdinand, Boabdil retired to his dominions in the Alpujarras. Even there he was not destined to remain long in tranquillity. Subjected to ceaseless espionage, his every word and action were reported to Hernando de Zafra, secretary of the Catholic monarchs. Despite his apparent apathy, his presence was considered a menace to the public peace, especially when the discontent arising from open violations of the treaty began to be manifested. Emissaries were sent to attempt the purchase of his estates and to suggest the probable dangers of insurrection, as contrasted with the advantages of voluntary exile. This failing of success, a bolder plan was resolved upon. The false vizier, Ibn-Comixa, was induced to assume an authority which he did not possess, to sell to the Spanish Crown the possessions of the princes of the Moorish dynasty of Granada, and to even stipulate, in detail, the time and manner of their departure from Spain. The price this corrupt and treacherous agent received for his services was never known. The rights of Boabdil and his family thus were disposed of, without their consent, for the paltry sum of twenty-one thousand doubloons of gold. When apprised by his unblushing minister of the manner in which he had been betrayed, he drew his sword, and Ibn-Comixa only saved his life by instant flight. The unfortunate prince well knew who had suggested the employment of this ignoble and perfidious artifice, and that it would be dangerous, as well as useless, to attempt to repudiate a measure which, dictated by cunning, would certainly be enforced by violence. He therefore ratified the spurious contract, received in exchange for his estates and all claims upon the crown nine millions of maravedis; and, on the fourteenth of October, 1493, sailed with all his household for Africa, where the Sultan of Fez had offered him an asylum. Thirty-four years afterwards he fell in battle, fighting bravely in the service of his benefactor against the savage mountaineers of the Atlas. His body, never recovered, remained unburied in the Desert, under a strange sky, far from the scene of his early triumphs, his misfortunes, and his disgrace.
Thus ended the implacable contest waged by Christian and Moslem so long and so desperately in the southwestern corner of Europe. To the heroic queen of Ferdinand is to be attributed the success of the last campaign of that portentous struggle. It was her administrative ability that regulated the internal affairs of the kingdom, suppressed lawlessness, established order, restored public confidence, developed the resources and consolidated the strength of a powerful and warlike nation. Her martial genius was ever with the army, whether encouraging it by her presence on the march or collecting and transporting supplies over mountain paths beset by bold and cunning enemies; ever animating the living, ever aiding and consoling the relatives of the dead. She was universally recognized as the head and front of the crusade; every opinion was tacitly subordinated to her judgment; her advice was sought in all important undertakings; her cheerful personality brought courage and enthusiasm to the disheartened camp; her masculine spirit did not shrink from participation in the exposure of a reconnoissance or from the certain and omnipresent dangers of the field of battle. In the closing scenes of the eventful drama hers was the prominent figure. On the day of the capitulation, she alone carried the sceptre and wore the crown, tacitly belying the motto, “Tanto Monta,” which admitted the equality of Aragon; it was her hand which bestowed the keys of the city and the authority of governor on her hereditary vassal, the Count of Tendilla; it was “Castile” that the heralds proclaimed from the highest battlements of the palace; it was not before the politic craft of Ferdinand that the haughty aristocracy of the North bowed with profound and graceful obeisance in acknowledgment of the sovereignty of a newly conquered realm, but before the eminent talents, the earnest piety, the affable but majestic and ever impressive dignity of Isabella the Catholic, Queen of Castile and Granada.