The Last Sigh Of The Moor

In 1492, nearly eight centuries after the conquest of Spain by the Arabs,

their dominion ended in the surrender of the city of Granada by King

Boabdil to the army of Ferdinand and Isabella. The empire of the Arab

Moors had shrunk, year by year and century by century, before the steady

advance of the Christians, until only the small kingdom of Granada

remained. This, distracted by anarchy within and assailed by King

Fer inand with all the arts of statecraft and all the strength of arms,

gradually decreased in dimensions, city after city, district after

district, being lost, until only the single city of Granada remained.



This populous and powerful city would have proved very difficult to take

by the ordinary methods of war, and could only have been subdued with

great loss of life and expenditure of treasure. Ferdinand assailed it by a

less costly and more exasperating method. Granada subsisted on the broad

and fertile vega or plain surrounding it, a region marvellously productive

in grain and fruits and rich in cattle and sheep. It was a cold-blooded

and cruel system adopted by the Spanish monarch. He assailed the city

through the vega. Disregarding the city, he marched his army into the

plain at the time of harvest and so thoroughly destroyed its growing crops

that the smiling and verdant expanse was left a scene of frightful

desolation. This was not accomplished without sharp reprisals by the

Moors, but the Spaniard persisted until he had converted the fruitful

paradise into a hopeless desert, and then marched away, leaving the

citizens to a winter of despair.



The next year he came again, encamped his army near the city, destroyed

what little verdure remained near its walls, and waited calmly until

famine and anarchy should force the citizens to yield. He attempted no

siege. It was not necessary. He could safely trust to his terrible allies.

The crowded city held out desperately while the summer passed and autumn

moved on to winter's verge, and then, with famine stalking through their

streets and invading their homes, but one resource remained to the

citizens,--surrender.



Ferdinand did not wish to distress too deeply the unhappy people. To

obtain possession of the city on any terms was the one thought then in his

mind. Harshness could come later, if necessary. Therefore, on the 25th of

November, 1492, articles of capitulation were signed, under which the

Moors of Granada were to retain all their possessions, be protected in

their religious exercises, and governed by their own laws, which were to

be administered by their own officials; the one unwelcome proviso being

that they should become subjects of Spain. To Boabdil were secured all his

rich estates and the patrimony of the crown, while he was to receive in

addition thirty thousand castellanos in gold. Excellent terms, one would

say, in view of the fact that Granada was at the mercy of Ferdinand, and

might soon have been obliged to surrender unconditionally.



On the night preceding the surrender doleful lamentations filled the halls

of the Alhambra, for the household of Boabdil were bidding a last farewell

to that delightful abode. The most precious effects were hastily packed

upon mules, and with tears and wailings the rich hangings and ornaments of

the beautiful apartments were removed. Day had not yet dawned when a

sorrowful cavalcade moved through an obscure postern gate of the palace

and wound through a retired quarter of the city. It was the family of the

deposed monarch, which he had sent off thus early to save them from

possible scoffs and insults.



The sun had barely risen when three signal-guns boomed from the heights of

the Alhambra, and the Christian army began its march across the vega. To

spare the feelings of the citizens it was decided that the city should not

be entered by its usual gates, and a special road had been opened leading

to the Alhambra.



At the head of the procession moved the king and queen, with the prince

and princesses and the dignitaries and ladies of the court, attended by

the royal guards in their rich array. This cortege halted at the village

of Armilla, a league and a half from the city. Meanwhile, Don Pedro

Gonzalez de Mendoza, Grand Cardinal of Spain, with an escort of three

thousand foot and a troop of cavalry, proceeded towards the Alhambra to

take possession of that noblest work of the Moors. At their approach

Boabdil left the palace by a postern gate attended by fifty cavaliers, and

advanced to meet the grand cardinal, whom, in words of mournful

renunciation, he bade to take possession of the royal fortress of the

Moors. Then he passed sadly onward to meet the sovereigns of Spain, who

had halted awaiting his approach, while the army stood drawn up on the

broad plain.



As the Spaniards waited in anxious hope, all eyes fixed on the Alhambra

heights, they saw the silver cross, the great standard of this crusade,

rise upon the great watch-tower, where it sparkled in the sunbeams, while

beside it floated the pennon of St. James, at sight of which a great shout

of "Santiago! Santiago!" rose from the awaiting host. Next rose the royal

standard, amid resounding cries of "Castile! Castile! For King Ferdinand

and Queen Isabella." The sovereigns sank upon their knees, giving thanks

to God for their great victory, the whole army followed their example, and

the choristers of the royal chapel broke forth into the solemn anthem of

"Te Deum laudamus."



Ferdinand now advanced to a point near the banks of the Xenil, where he

was met by the unfortunate Boabdil. As the Moorish king approached he made

a movement to dismount, which Ferdinand prevented. He then offered to kiss

the king's hand. This homage also, as previously arranged, was declined,

whereupon Boabdil leaned forward and kissed the king's right arm. He then

with a resigned mien delivered the keys of the city.



"These keys," he said, "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."






MOORISH KING PAYING HOMAGE TO THE KING OF CASTILE.





"Doubt not our promises," said Ferdinand, kindly, "nor that thou shalt

regain from our friendship the prosperity of which the fortune of war has

deprived thee."



Then drawing from his finger a gold ring set with a precious stone,

Boabdil presented it to the Count of Tendilla, who, he was informed, was

to be governor of the city, saying,--



"With this ring Granada has been governed. Take it and govern with it, and

God make you more fortunate than I."



He then proceeded to the village of Armilla, where Queen Isabella

remained. She received him with the utmost courtesy and graciousness, and

delivered to him his son, who had been held as a hostage for the

fulfilment of the capitulation. Boabdil pressed the child tenderly to his

bosom, and moved on until he had joined his family, from whom and their

attendants the shouts and strains of music of the victorious army drew

tears and moans.



At length the weeping train reached the summit of an eminence about two

leagues distant which commanded the last view of Granada. Here they paused

for a look of farewell at the beautiful and beloved city, whose towers and

minarets gleamed brightly before them in the sunshine. While they still

gazed a peal of artillery, faint with distance, told them that the city

was taken possession of and was lost to the Moorish kings forever. Boabdil

could no longer contain himself.



"Allah achbar! God is great!" he murmured, tears accompanying his words of

resignation.



His mother, a woman of intrepid soul, was indignant at this display of

weakness.



"You do well," she cried, "to weep like a woman for what you failed to

defend like a man."



Others strove to console the king, but his tears were not to be

restrained.



"Allah achbar!" he exclaimed again; "when did misfortunes ever equal

mine?"



The hill where this took place afterwards became known as Feg Allah

Achbar; but the point of view where Boabdil obtained the last prospect of

Granada is called by the Spaniards "El ultimo suspiro del Moro" or "The

last sigh of the Moor."



As Boabdil thus took his last look at beautiful Granada, it behooves us to

take a final backward glance at Arabian Spain, from whose history we have

drawn so much of interest and romance. In this hospitable realm

civilization dwelt when few traces of it existed elsewhere. Here luxury

reigned while barbarism prevailed widely in Europe. We are told that in

Cordova a man might walk ten miles by the light of the public lamps, while

centuries afterwards there was not a single public lamp in London streets.

Its avenues were solidly paved, while centuries afterwards the people of

Paris, on rainy days, stepped from their door-sills into mud ankle-deep.

The dwellings were marked by beauty and luxury, while the people of

Europe, as a rule in that semi-barbaric period, dwelt in miserable huts,

dressed in leather, and lived on the rudest and least nutritive food.



The rulers of France, England, and Germany lived in rude buildings without

chimneys or windows, with a hole in the roof for the smoke to escape, at a

time when the royal halls of Arabian Spain were visions of grace and

beauty. The residences of the Arabs had marble balconies overhanging

orange-gardens; their floors and walls were frequently of rich and

graceful mosaic; fountains gushed in their courts, quicksilver often

taking the place of water, and falling in a glistening spray. In summer

cool air was drawn into the apartments through ventilating towers; in

winter warm and perfumed air was discharged through hidden passages. From

the ceilings, corniced with fretted gold, great chandeliers hung. Here

were clusters of frail marble columns, which, in the boudoirs of the

sultanas, gave way to verd-antique incrusted with lapis lazuli. The

furniture was of sandal- or citron-wood, richly inlaid with gold, silver,

or precious minerals. Tapestry hid the walls, Persian carpets covered the

floors, pillows and couches of elegant forms were spread about the rooms.

Great care was given to bathing and personal cleanliness at a time when

such a thought had not dawned upon Christian Europe. Their

pleasure-gardens were of unequalled beauty, and were rich with flowers and

fruits. In short, in this brief space it is impossible to give more than a

bare outline of the marvellous luxury which surrounded this people,

recently come from the deserts of Arabia, at a time when most of the

remainder of Europe was plunged into the rudest barbarism.



Much might be said of their libraries, their universities, their scholars

and scientists, and the magnificence of their architecture, of which

abundant examples still remain in the cities of Spain, the Alhambra of

Granada, the palace which Boabdil so reluctantly left, being almost

without an equal for lightness, grace, and architectural beauty in the

cities of the world. Well might the dethroned monarch look back with

bitter regret upon this rarest monument of the Arabian civilization and

give vent, in farewell to its far-seen towers, to "The last sigh of the

Moor."