CHAPTER IV. A FULLER VIEW OF THE CHARACTER OF BOABDIL.--MUZA IN THE GARDENS OF HISBELOVED.
Muza Ben Abil Gazan returned from his visit to Boabdil with a thoughtfuland depressed spirit. His arguments had failed to induce the king todisdain the command of the magic dial, which still forbade him toarm against the invaders; and although the royal favour was no longerwithdrawn from himself, the Moor felt that such favour hung upon acapricious and uncertain tenure so long as his sovereign was the slaveof superstition or imposture. But that noble warrior, whose characterthe adversity of his country had singularly exalted and refined, evenwhile increasing its natural fierceness, thought little of himself incomparison with the evils and misfortunes which the king's continuedirresolution must bring upon Granada.
"So brave, and yet so weak," thought he; "so weak, and yet so obstinate;so wise a reasoner, yet so credulous a dupe! Unhappy Boabdil! the stars,indeed, seem to fight against thee, and their influences at thy birthmarred all thy gifts and virtues with counteracting infirmity anderror."
Muza,--more perhaps than any subject in Granada,--did justice to thereal character of the king; but even he was unable to penetrate all itscomplicated and latent mysteries. Boabdil el Chico was no ordinary man;his affections were warm and generous, his nature calm and gentle; and,though early power, and the painful experience of a mutinous people andungrateful court, had imparted to that nature an irascibility of temperand a quickness of suspicion foreign to its earlier soil, he was easilyled back to generosity and justice; and, if warm in resentment, wasmagnanimous in forgiveness. Deeply accomplished in all the learningof his race and time, he was--in books, at least--a philosopher; and,indeed, his attachment to the abstruser studies was one of the maincauses which unfitted him for his present station. But it was thecircumstances attendant on his birth and childhood that had pervertedhis keen and graceful intellect to morbid indulgence in mysticreveries, and all the doubt, fear, and irresolution of a man who pushesmetaphysics into the supernatural world. Dark prophecies accumulatedomens over his head; men united in considering him born to disastrousdestinies. Whenever he had sought to wrestle against hostilecircumstances, some seemingly accidental cause, sudden and unforeseen,had blasted the labours of his most vigorous energy,--the fruit of hismost deliberate wisdom. Thus, by degrees a gloomy and despairing cloudsettled over his mind; but, secretly sceptical of the Mohammedan creed,and too proud and sanguine to resign himself wholly and passively to thedoctrine of inevitable predestination, he sought to contend againstthe machinations of hostile demons and boding stars, not by human butspiritual agencies. Collecting around him the seers and magiciansof orient-fanaticism, he lived in the visions of another world; and,flattered by the promises of impostors or dreamers, and deceived by hisown subtle and brooding tendencies of mind, it was amongst spells andcabala that he thought to draw forth the mighty secret which was to freehim from the meshes of the preternatural enemies of his fortune, andleave him the freedom of other men to wrestle, with equal chances,against peril and adversities. It was thus, that Almamen had won themastery over his mind; and, though upon matters of common and earthlyimport, or solid learning, Boabdil could contend with sages, upon thoseof superstition he could be fooled by a child. He was, in this, a kindof Hamlet: formed, under prosperous and serene fortunes, to renderblessings and reap renown; but over whom the chilling shadow of anotherworld had fallen--whose soul curdled back into itself--whose life hadbeen separated from that of the herd--whom doubts and awe drew back,while circumstances impelled onward--whom a supernatural doom investedwith a peculiar philosophy, not of human effect and cause--and who, withevery gift that could ennoble and adorn, was suddenly palsied into thatmortal imbecility, which is almost ever the result of mortal visitingsinto the haunted regions of the Ghostly and Unknown. The gloomiercolourings of his mind had been deepened, too, by secret remorse. Forthe preservation of his own life, constantly threatened by his unnaturalpredecessor, he had been early driven into rebellion against his father.In age, infirmity, and blindness, that fierce king had been made aprisoner at Salobrena by his brother, El Zagal, Boabdil's partner inrebellion; and dying suddenly, El Zagal was suspected of his murder.Though Boabdil was innocent of such a crime, he felt himself guiltyof the causes which led to it; and a dark memory, resting upon hisconscience, served to augment his superstition and enervate the vigourof his resolves; for, of all things that make men dreamers, none is soeffectual as remorse operating upon a thoughtful temperament.
Revolving the character of his sovereign, and sadly foreboding the ruinof his country, the young hero of Granada pursued his way, until hissteps, almost unconsciously, led him towards the abode of Leila. Hescaled the walls of the garden as before--he neared the house. Allwas silent and deserted; his signal was unanswered--his murmured songbrought no grateful light to the lattice, no fairy footstep to thebalcony. Dejected, and sad of heart, he retired from the spot; and,returning home, sought a couch, to which even all the fatigue andexcitement he had undergone, could not win the forgetfulness of slumber.The mystery that wrapt the maiden of his homage, the rareness of theirinterviews, and the wild and poetical romance that made a very principleof the chivalry of the Spanish Moors, had imparted to Muza's love forLeila a passionate depth, which, at this day, and in more enervatedclimes, is unknown to the Mohammedan lover. His keenest inquiries hadbeen unable to pierce the secret of her birth and station. Little of theinmates of that guarded and lonely house was known in the neighbourhood;the only one ever seen without its walls was an old man of the Jewishfaith, supposed to be a superintendent of the foreign slaves (for noMohammedan slave would have been subjected to the insult of submissionto a Jew); and though there were rumours of the vast wealth and gorgeousluxury within the mansion, it was supposed the abode of some Moorishemir absent from the city--and the interest of the gossips was at thistime absorbed in more weighty matters than the affairs of a neighbour.But when, the next eve, and the next, Muza returned to the spot equallyin vain, his impatience and alarm could no longer be restrained; heresolved to lie in watch by the portals of the house night and day,until, at least, he could discover some one of the inmates, whom hecould question of his love, and perhaps bribe to his service. As withthis resolution he was hovering round the mansion, he beheld, stealingfrom a small door in one of the low wings of the house, a bended anddecrepit form: it supported its steps upon a staff; and, as now enteringthe garden, it stooped by the side of a fountain to cull flowers andherbs by the light of the moon, the Moor almost started to behold acountenance which resembled that of some ghoul or vampire haunting theplaces of the dead. He smiled at his own fear; and, with a quick andstealthy pace, hastened through the trees, and, gaining the spot wherethe old man bent, placed his hand on his shoulder ere his presence wasperceived.
Ximen--for it was he--looked round eagerly, and a faint cry of terrorbroke from his lips.
"Hush!" said the Moor; "fear me not, I am a friend. Thou art old,man--gold is ever welcome to the aged." As he spoke, he dropped severalbroad pieces into the breast of the Jew, whose ghastly features gaveforth a yet more ghastly smile, as he received the gift, and mumbledforth,
"Charitable young man! generous, benevolent, excellent young man!"
"Now then," said Muza, "tell me--you belong to this house--Leila, themaiden within--tell me of her--is she well?"
"I trust so," returned the Jew; "I trust so, noble master."
"Trust so! know you not of her state?"
"Not I; for many nights I have not seen her, excellent sir," answeredXimen; "she hath left Granada, she hath gone. You waste your timeand mar your precious health amidst these nightly dews: they areunwholesome, very unwholesome at the time of the new moon."
"Gone!" echoed the Moor; "left Granada!--woe is me!--andwhither?--there, there, more gold for you,--old man, tell me whither?"
"Alas! I know not, most magnanimous young man; I am but a servant--Iknow nothing."
"When will she return?"
"I cannot tell thee."
"Wh
o is thy master? who owns yon mansion?"
Ximen's countenance fell; he looked round in doubt and fear, and then,after a short pause, answered,--"A wealthy man, good sir--a Moor ofAfrica; but he hath also gone; he but seldom visits us; Granada is notso peaceful a residence as it was,--I would go too, if I could."
Muza released his hold of Ximen, who gazed at the Moor's workingcountenance with a malignant smile--for Ximen hated all men.
"Thou hast done with me, young warrior? Pleasant dreams to thee underthe new moon--thou hadst best retire to thy bed. Farewell! bless thycharity to the poor old man!"
Muza heard him not; he remained motionless for some moments; and thenwith a heavy sigh as that of one who has gained the mastery of himselfafter a bitter struggle, the said half aloud, "Allah be with thee,Leila! Granada now is my only mistress."
Leila or, the Siege of Granada, Complete Page 10