History of the Moorish Empire in Europe, Vol. 2 (of 3)
Date: 2024-03-20T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Spain -- History -- 711-1516; Muslims -- Spain -- History; Islamic civilization; Arabs -- Europe -- History

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Title: History of the Moorish Empire in Europe, Vol. 2 (of 3)

Author: S. P. Scott

Release date: March 20, 2024 [eBook #73214]

Language: English

Original publication: Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott Company, 1904

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/73214

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HISTORY OF THE MOORISH EMPIRE IN EUROPE, VOL. 2 (OF 3) ***

HISTORY
OF THE
Moorish Empire
IN EUROPE

BY

S. P. SCOTT

AUTHOR OF “THROUGH SPAIN”

Corduba famosa locuples de nomine dicta,

Inclyta deliciis, rebus quoque splendida cunctis

Hroswitha, Passio S. Pelagii

IN THREE VOLUMES

VOL. II.

PHILADELPHIA & LONDON
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
1904

Copyright, 1904 By J. B. Lippincott Company

Published March, 1904

Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U. S. A.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.

CHAPTER XV
THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IN SICILY
| PAGE

Classic Souvenirs of Sicily—Its Great Natural Advantages—It becomes the Stronghold of the Papacy—Invasion of the Arabs—They besiege Syracuse—Strength of that City—Failure of the Enterprise—Capture of Palermo—Rapid Progress of the Moslems—Condition of Italy—Arab Alliance with Naples—Messina taken—Betrayal of Castrogiovanni—Rout of the Greeks near Syracuse—Feuds of the Conquerors—Their Successes in Italy—Second Siege of Syracuse—The City is stormed and destroyed by Ibn-Mohammed—Peril of Rome—Appearance of the Normans in the South of Europe—They invade Sicily—Siege of Palermo—Subjection of the Island—Influence of the Moslems over their Conquerors—General Condition of Sicily—Its Civilization—Palermo and its Environs—Science, Art, and Literature—The Great Work of Edrisi—Arab Occupation of Sardinia, Crete, Corsica, and Malta

1

CHAPTER XVI
THE PRINCIPALITIES OF MOORISH SPAIN

Immobility of the African Race—Its Hostility to Civilization—Its Pernicious Influence on the Politics of the Western Khalifate—Character of Suleyman—Invasion of Ali—He ascends the Throne—His Tyranny—He is assassinated—Abd-al-Rahman IV. succeeds Him—Yahya—Abd-al-Rahman V.—Mohammed—Hischem III.—Organization of the Council of State—Ibn-Djahwar, the Minister—His Talents and Power—Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, Kadi of Seville—Berber Conspiracy—The Impostor Khalaf is raised to the Throne as Hischem II.—Almeria—The Vizier Ibn-Abbas—Influence of the Jews at Granada—The Rabbi Samuel— Rivalry of Granada and Almeria—Abu-al-Fotuh—Motadhid ascends the Throne of Seville—His Cruel and Dissolute Character—His Collection of Skulls—Badis, King of Granada—Increasing Power of Castile—Valencia and Malaga—Atrocities of the Christians at Barbastro

77

CHAPTER XVII
WARS WITH THE CHRISTIANS; THE ALMORAVIDES

Dissensions in Castile—Alfonso the Guest of the Emir of Toledo—Civilization of that Moorish Capital—Motamid, Prince of Seville—His Prodigality—Valencia and Murcia become subject to Mamun—Motamid takes Cordova—Military Genius of Alfonso VI.—The Famous Game of Chess—Siege of Toledo—Capitulation of that City—Depredations of Bands of Outlaws—Danger and Distress of the Moslems—Rise of the Almoravides—Their Fanaticism and Prowess—They conquer Northern Africa—The Spanish Emirs appeal to Yusuf—He crosses the Strait—Rout of the Christians at Zallaca—Second Expedition of Yusuf—His Popularity—He claims the Sovereignty of the Peninsula—The Cid: His Character and His Exploits—He serves the Emir of Saragossa—He obtains Control of Valencia—Revolt and Siege of that City—Cruelties of the Cid—Death of Yusuf—Greatness of the Almoravide Empire—Accession of Ali—Demoralization of the Conquerors

159

CHAPTER XVIII
THE EMPIRE OF THE ALMOHADES

Rise of Abu-Abdallah, the Mahdi—His Character and Talents—He rebels against Ali—His Eventful Career—Abd-al-Mumen succeeds Him—Decline of the Almoravide Power in Spain—Raid of Alfonso of Aragon—Rout of Fraga—Death of Alfonso—Indecisive Character of the Campaigns in the War of the Reconquest—Progress of Abd-al-Mumen in Africa—Victories of the Almohades—Natural Hostility of Moor and Berber—Anarchy in the Peninsula—It is invaded by the Africans—Establishment of the Almohade Empire in Andalusia—Almeria taken by the Christians—Its Recapture by the Berbers—Death of Abd-al-Mumen—His Genius and Greatness—Accession of Yusuf—His Public Works—He organizes a Great Expedition—He dies and is succeeded by Yakub—The Holy War proclaimed—Battle of Alarcos—Effects of African Supremacy—Death of Yakub—The Giralda—Mohammed—He attempts the Subjugation of the Christians—Despair of the Latter—Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa—Utter Rout of the Almohade Army

247

CHAPTER XIX
THE PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN ARMS

General Disorder in the Peninsula—Aggressive Policy of the Christians—Capture of Ubeda—Al-Mamun—Rise of Mohammed-Ibn-Hud—Merida taken by the King of Leon—Prosperity of Barcelona—Jaime I. of Aragon—Siege of Majorca—Terrible Sack of that City—Extinction of the Almohades—Siege and Capture of Cordova by Ferdinand—Valencia surrenders to the King of Aragon—Character of the Struggle between Christian and Moslem—Xativa—Its Prosperity—Murcia becomes the Property of Castile—Xativa acquired by Aragon—Death and Character of Jaime—Rise of the Kingdom of Granada—Its Wealth and Literary Culture—Ferdinand captures Jaen—Mohammed-Ibn-Ahmar, King of Granada, renders Homage to Ferdinand—Seville invested by the Castilians—Great Strength of that City—Its Obstinate Defence—It is reduced by Famine—Character of Ferdinand the Saint

334

CHAPTER XX
PROSECUTION OF THE RECONQUEST

Condition of Moorish Spain after the Death of Ferdinand III.—Invasion of Ibn-Yusuf—Vast Wealth and Power of the Spanish Clergy—Public Disorder—Energy of Mohammed I.—His Achievements—Mohammed II.—Peace with Castile—Character of Alfonso X.—Siege of Tarifa—Mohammed III.—Al-Nazer—Ismail—Baza taken—Mohammed IV.—The Empire of Fez—Defeat of the Africans in the Plain of Pagana—Yusuf—Rout of the Salado—Alfonso XI. captures Algeziras—Splendid Public Works of the Kings of Granada—Mohammed V.—Ismail II.—Abu-Said—He repairs to the Court of Pedro el Cruel, and is murdered—Yusuf II.—Mohammed VI.—Yusuf III.—Mohammed VII.—Mohammed VIII.—Ibn-Ismail—Gibraltar taken by the Castilians—Character of Muley Hassan—Critical Condition of the Spanish Arabs—Impending Destruction of the Kingdom of Granada

418

CHAPTER XXI
THE LAST WAR WITH GRANADA

Description of Granada—Its Wealth, Prosperity, and Civilization—Its Cities—Beauty and Splendor of the Capital—The Alhambra—Condition and Power of the Spanish Monarchy—Character of Ferdinand—Character of Isabella—Muley Hassan and His Family—Storming of Zahara—Alhama surprised by the Christians—Siege of that City and Repulse of the Moors—Sedition at Granada—Ferdinand routed at Loja—Foray of Muley Hassan—Expedition to the Ajarquia—Defeat and Massacre of the Castilians—Boabdil attacks Lucena and is captured—Destructive Foray of the Christians—Boabdil is released and returns to Granada—Renewal of Factional Hostility in the Moorish Capital—Moslem and Christian Predatory Inroads—Siege and Capture of Ronda—Embassy from Fez—Al-Zagal becomes King—Defeat of the Court of Cabra at Moclin—Division of the Kingdom of Granada—Its Disastrous Effects

510

CHAPTER XXII
TERMINATION OF THE RECONQUEST

Summary of the Causes of the Decay of the Moslem Empire—Loja taken by Storm—Progress of the Feud between Al-Zagal and Boabdil—The Christians assist the Latter—Anarchy in Granada—Siege of Velez—Ineffectual Attempt of Al-Zagal to relieve it—Surrender of the City—Situation of Malaga—Its Delightful Surroundings—Its Vast Commercial and Manufacturing Interests—It is invested by Ferdinand—Desperate Resistance of the Garrison—Its Sufferings—Capitulation of the City—Enslavement of the Population—Duplicity of the Spanish Sovereigns—War with Al-Zagal—Siege of Baza—Discontent of the Christian Soldiery—Energy and Firmness of the Queen—Embassy from the Sultan—Baza surrenders—Al-Zagal relinquishes His Crown—War with Boabdil—The Last Campaign—Blockade of Granada—Distress of Its Inhabitants—Submission of the Capital—Fate of Boabdil—Isabella the Inspiring Genius of the Conquest

595

HISTORY OF THE MOORISH EMPIRE IN EUROPE

CHAPTER XV
THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IN SICILY
827–1072

Classic Souvenirs of Sicily—Its Great Natural Advantages—It becomes the Stronghold of the Papacy—Invasion of the Arabs—They besiege Syracuse—Strength of that City—Failure of the Enterprise—Capture of Palermo—Rapid Progress of the Moslems—Condition of Italy—Arab Alliance with Naples—Messina taken—Betrayal of Castrogiovanni—Rout of the Greeks near Syracuse—Feuds of the Conquerors—Their Successes in Italy—Second Siege of Syracuse—The City is stormed and destroyed by Ibn-Mohammed—Peril of Rome—Appearance of the Normans in the South of Europe—They invade Sicily—Siege of Palermo—Subjection of the Island—Influence of the Moslems over their Conquerors—General Condition of Sicily—Its Civilization—Palermo and its Environs—Science, Art, and Literature—The Great Work of Edrisi—Arab Occupation of Sardinia, Crete, Corsica, and Malta.

The island of Sicily, by reason of its geographical position, its extraordinary fertility, and its commercial advantages, was one of the most renowned and coveted domains of the ancient world. Its situation, near the centre of the Mediterranean, afforded rare facilities for participation in the trade and enjoyment of the culture of those polished nations whose shores were washed by that famous sea. Its soil yielded, with insignificant labor, the choicest products of both the temperate and the torrid zones. Its coast was provided with numerous and commodious harbors. That of Messina permitted vessels of the heaviest tonnage to discharge their cargoes in security at her quays. Those of Syracuse and Palermo were double, for the use of men-of-war and merchantmen, as were the port of Tyre and the Kothon of Carthage. The Phœnicians, at a period far anterior to any mentioned in history, had established and maintained important trading stations at points subsequently marked by the erection of vast and flourishing cities. Doric and Ionic colonists, in their turn, carried thither the elegant luxury and fastidious tastes which distinguished the finished civilization of antiquity. This mysterious island, where were manifested some of the most appalling and inexplicable phenomena of nature, was the home of frightful monsters, the scene of dire enchantments, the inspiration of Homeric fable and mythological legend. Here was the haunt of the dreaded Cyclops. A short distance from its shores were practised the infernal arts of the beauteous but vindictive Circe. Here passed the Argonauts on their triumphant return from Colchis. To the Greek succeeded the Carthaginian, who might assert, with no little show of justice, a claim to the inheritance of his Phœnician ancestors. Next came the mighty and resistless supremacy of Rome. Sicily was one of the first, as it was among the richest, of the provinces early acquired by her arms. It long shared with Egypt the honorable distinction of being one of the granaries of Italy. The great resources of the island in the days of the Republic are indicated by the value of the spoils appropriated by the avarice of a rapacious governor. The corrupt accumulations of Verres, during the course of his magistracy, amounted to forty million sesterces. Besides the money of which he plundered the unfortunate dependents of the Republic are enumerated statues, paintings, bronzes, utensils sacred to the service of the gods, the ornaments of the altars, the costly offerings with which the affectionate gratitude of the pious and the opulent had enriched her magnificent temples. In intellectual advancement Sicily kept well abreast of her enlightened neighbors. The choicest works of the Attic and of the Roman muse were read with delight by the polished society of her cities. The masterpieces of Aristophanes and Terence were enacted with applause in her spacious theatres, resplendent with many colored marbles and decorations of beaten gold. The intimate social and commercial relations maintained with the cities of Magna Græcia aided, in no inconsiderable degree, the development of Sicilian civilization. The citizens of Messina and Palermo could perhaps claim a common origin with the refined inhabitants of Crotona and Tarentum.

Thus had Sicily, by her amalgamation of widely different races and through her political affiliations, inherited all the noblest traditions of antiquity, all the maxims of Oriental philosophy, of Grecian culture, of Phœnician enterprise, and of Roman power. With her history are associated the names of Hasdrubal and Hamilcar, of Pyrrhus and Marcellus, of Dionysius and Archimedes. But long before the period of Byzantine degeneracy so fatal to the Empire, her prosperity had greatly declined. Even in the time of the Cæsars the evils of a venal and rapacious administration had been felt in the imposition of onerous taxes, and the consequent and inevitable decay of agriculture. Insurrections were common, and characterized by all the atrocities of anarchy. The harvests were wantonly destroyed. The villas of the Roman nobles, whose extensive domains embraced the larger portion of the arable land, were given to the flames. Bands of robbers roamed at will through the deserted settlements. The cities were not infrequently stormed and plundered. The tillage of the soil was no longer safe or profitable. Extensive tracts of territory, whose extraordinary and varied productiveness had formerly astonished the stranger, were abandoned to pasturage, an unfailing sign of national decadence. The care of the flocks was committed to slaves, whose savage aspect and brutal habits proclaimed their barbarian lineage. Clothed in skins and armed with rude weapons, they were a menace alike to the industrious citizen and the belated wayfarer. No wages or sustenance was bestowed upon these outlaws, who were expected and encouraged to supply by acts of violence the necessaries denied by the neglect and parsimony of their masters. Others, whose ferocious temper and habitual insubordination demanded restraint, labored from early dawn in fetters, and were confined in filthy dungeons during the night. The most shocking crimes were perpetrated with impunity. The spoils which had escaped the robber could not be rescued from the vigilant perquisitions of the farmer of the revenue. The tax upon grain amounted to twenty-five per cent., and the impositions upon articles of commerce and the scanty manufactures which had survived the general destruction of trade and the mechanical arts were apportioned in a corresponding ratio, and were collected with uncompromising severity. With the prevalent insecurity of person and property, maritime enterprise was checked, and the fleets of foreign merchantmen which had once crowded the seaports of the island disappeared. The weak and corrupt government of Constantinople, dominated by eunuchs and disgraced by the political intrigues of ecclesiastics and women, was powerless to correct the disorders of a distant and almost unknown province. Theological disputes and the pleasures of the circus engrossed the attention of the successors of the martial Constantine, whose authority, disputed at home, was often scarcely acknowledged in their insular possessions. The exaggerated perils of the strait, aided perhaps by a knowledge of the impoverished condition of the country, may have deterred the victorious barbarians from any prolonged occupation of Sicily. While they overran the country at different times, they left no traces of their sojourn,—neither colonies, institutions, racial impressions, nor physical peculiarities. But this comparative exemption from the common ruin seems to have been productive of no substantial benefit. The spirit of the people was not adapted either to the requirements of self-government or to the imperious demands of vassalage. They were at once turbulent, rebellious, servile. In the character of the Sicilian of the ninth century, as in that of the Calabrian of modern times, every evil instinct was predominant. The seditious spirit of the peasantry, aided by their proverbial inconstancy, was one of the principal causes which prevented the consolidation of the Mohammedan power.

From being the seat of Grecian civilization, the granary of Rome, the theatre of barbarian license, Sicily had become the nursery of the Papacy. It furnished bold and zealous defenders of the chair of St. Peter. Its opportune contributions replenished the exhausted treasury of the Vatican. There the genius of St. Gregory first laid the foundations of the temporal power of the Holy See. There was situated the richest portion of the possessions of the Roman hierarchy. There were matured political measures which were destined to exercise for generations the talents of the ablest statesmen of Europe. At an early period the popes acquired an important following among the peasantry of the island. The ignorance of the populace, and the eagerness with which it received impressions of the supernatural; the associations derived from the legends of antiquity, many of which, with political foresight, had been bodily appropriated by the Fathers of the Church; the absolution promised, without reserve, for the most heinous offences, had allured thousands upon thousands of proselytes to the gorgeous altars of Rome. The institution of the monastic orders and the vast number of idlers increased tenfold the burdens of an oppressed and impoverished country. It was said that the Benedictines alone possessed nearly half of the island. Convents surrounded with beautiful gardens and supplied with all the requirements of luxury arose on every side. The mountain-caves swarmed with hermits. The miracles performed by holy men and women surpassed in wonder and mystery the achievements of mythological heroes,—the conquerors of Cyclops, the captors of dragons. Martyrs underwent the most exquisite tortures with unshaken constancy. In no other province which recognized the predominance of the Papacy was there greater reverence for ecclesiastical tradition; and, as a legitimate consequence, in no other was prevalent a more marked degree of ignorance in the masses, or a more habitual defiance of the laws of morality and justice by those indebted for their superiority to the influence of the Church. The number of slaves owned by the Holy See and employed upon its estates was enormous. The greater part of its wealth was computed to be derived from their labor and from the traffic in their children. The arts of the confessor secured from the wealthy penitent immense estates and valuable legacies, the reluctant tribute of terror and remorse. These possessions, once in the iron grasp of the sacerdotal order, a master endowed with legal immortality, were never relinquished. The oblations of grateful convalescents enriched the treasuries of chapel and cathedral. Pilgrims flocked in great numbers to those shrines which enjoyed an extensive reputation for sanctity, and whose relics were believed to possess unfailing virtues for the cure of the sick and the relief of the afflicted. A profitable trade was supported at the expense of the superstitious credulity of these devout strangers. Well aware of its importance as an adjunct to their temporal power, and taking advantage of the relations of its parishioners with the Byzantine court, the early bishops of Rome extended every aid to the Sicilian branch of the Catholic hierarchy. It enjoyed peculiar privileges. It was exempted from vexatious impositions. Its legates were received with distinguished courtesy by the papal court. Gregory founded from his private purse seven monasteries in the island. Adrian frequently referred to it as the citadel of the Italian clergy. No portion of the patrimony of St. Peter could boast a priesthood more opulent, more arrogant, more powerful, more corrupt.

At the time of the Moorish invasion Sicily had become thoroughly Byzantine. The glorious traditions of the Greek occupation were forgotten. In Messina alone the style of architecture, the physical characteristics of the people, the comparative purity of language, revealed significant traces of the influence of the most polished nation of antiquity. In no other province subject to Rome had the brutal doctrine of force, the basis of both republican and imperial power, been so sedulously inculcated and applied. The harvests of Sicily aided largely to sustain the idle population of the metropolis of the world. Its commerce and its revenues furnished inexhaustible resources to the venality and peculations of the proconsul. The Roman aristocracy had there its most sumptuous villas, its largest and most productive estates, its most numerous bodies of retainers. It was not unusual for a patrician in the days of the Empire to own twenty thousand slaves.

Byzantine degeneracy had not failed to cast its blight over this, one of the fairest possessions of the emperors of the East. After the reign of Justinian, no attempt was made by the exhausted state, scarcely able to defend its capital, to send colonists to the island. The debased populace, the refuse of a score of nations, ignorant of the very name of patriotism, destitute of every principle of honor or virtue, sank each day still lower in the scale of humanity.

The condition of Italy was even worse. The Lombards had conquered all of that peninsula except the Exarchate of Ravenna. To their dominion had succeeded the contentions of a multitude of insignificant principalities, inflamed with mutual and irreconcilable hostility, united in nothing except jealousy of the papal power. The incredible perfidy and fraud which afterwards became the peculiar attributes of the Italian political system—whose maxims, elaborated by Machiavelli, have excited the wonder and contempt of succeeding ages—had then their origin. The entire country was the scene of perpetual discord, treachery, and intrigue. In the latter the Pope, urged by necessity and inclination alike, bore no insignificant share. The prevalence of such conditions came within a hair’s-breadth of changing, perhaps forever, the political complexion of Europe and the sphere of Christian influence. The feuds of petty rulers were aggravated rather than reconciled in the presence of the common danger. The general anarchy was eminently favorable to foreign conquest. The Lombard princes solicited the aid of the Saracens. The latter profited by every occasion of dissension and enmity. They enlisted with equal facility and disloyalty under the banners of every faction. Twice they ravaged the environs of Rome. At different times they were in the pay of the Holy See. A series of fortunate accidents alone prevented the enthronement of an Arab emir in the Vatican and the transformation of St. Peter’s into a Mohammedan mosque.

The vicinity of Sicily to the main-land of Africa had early suggested to the Saracens the conquest of that island. In the seventh century it had been visited by marauding expeditions from Egypt. Syracuse was stormed in 669, and the treasures of the Roman churches, placed there for security from barbarian attack, were borne away to Alexandria. Before crossing the Strait of Gibraltar, and even while the Berber tribes still threatened the security of his outposts, the enterprising Musa—as has already been recounted in these pages—had despatched his son Abdallah upon a predatory expedition among the islands of the Mediterranean. In Majorca, Minorca, Sardinia, and Sicily a large quantity of plunder was obtained and carried off by these adventurous freebooters. Other expeditions from time to time, and with varying success for the space of more than a century, followed the example of that organized by Musa. Despite these inroads, amicable relations subsisted, for the most part, between the Byzantine governors of Sicily and the Aghlabite princes of Africa. They despatched embassies, made protestations of mutual attachment, negotiated treaties, exchanged presents. But under all these plausible appearances of peace and friendship there lurked, on the one side, the deadly hatred and ambitious hopes of the fanatic whose creed was sustained by arms, and, on the other, an indefinable dread of inevitable calamity which could not long be averted.

A strong resemblance exists between the historical legends from which are derived our information concerning the Saracen occupations of Spain and Sicily. In both cases a real or pretended injury to female innocence is said to have been the indirect cause of the invasion of the Moslems. In the army of the Byzantine emperor stationed in Sicily was one Euphemius, an officer of high rank, eminent talents, and unquestioned courage, who, having become enamored of a nun, invaded the sanctity of the cloister, carried off the recluse, and, despite her remonstrances, made her his wife. This act of sacrilege, while far from being without precedent in the lawless condition of society under the lax and cruel administration of the Greek emperors, was not in this instance committed by a personage of sufficient authority to enable him to escape the consequences of his rashness. The relatives of the damsel appealed for redress to the Byzantine court, the demand was heeded, and a mandate was despatched by the Emperor to the governor of Sicily to deprive the daring ravisher of his nose, the penalty prescribed by the sanguinary code of Greek jurisprudence for the offence. Euphemius, having learned of the punishment with which he was threatened and relying on his popularity, endeavored to frustrate the execution of the sentence by exciting an insurrection. The enterprise failed through the cowardice and treachery of some of the leading conspirators, and the baffled rebel was compelled to seek refuge among the Saracens of Africa. The reigning sovereign of the Aghlabite dynasty, whose seat of government was at Kairoan, was Ziadet-Allah, a prince of warlike tastes, implacable ferocity, and licentious manners. No sooner had he landed than Euphemius sent messages to the African Sultan, imploring his assistance, and promising that in case it was afforded Sicily should be erected into an Aghlabite principality, evidenced by the payment of tribute and the acknowledgment of supremacy. The offer was tempting to the cupidity and ambition of the Moslem ruler, and the powerful following of the fugitive made its accomplishment apparently a matter of little difficulty. In the mean time, however, envoys had arrived from the Sicilian government charged to remonstrate, in the name of the Emperor, against this encouragement of rebellion and violation of neutrality by a friendly power. Thus harassed by the arguments of the rival emissaries, and weighing the political advantages which might result from the observation of the faith of treaties on the one hand, and from the acquisition of valuable territory and the extension of the spiritual domain of Islam on the other, Ziadet-Allah remained for a long time undecided. In the time of the early khalifs the material benefits accruing from warfare with the infidel—a duty enjoined upon every Moslem—would hardly have been subordinated to a mere question of casuistry. But the condition of the provinces subject to the Aghlabite dynasty, whose throne had recently been shaken by a religious revolution, rendered the cordial acquiescence and co-operation of the discordant elements of African society indispensably requisite in a measure of national moment. The chieftains and nobles were convoked in solemn assembly. The avarice of the soldier, the fanaticism of the dervish, the aspirations of the commander were stimulated by every device of intrigue and by every resource of oratory. The scruples of the conscientious were overcome by quotations from the Koran inculcating the obligation of unremitting hostility to the infidel. A plausible pretext for breaking the treaty was found in the fact that one of its main provisions had already been evaded by the Greeks themselves, who had neglected to liberate certain Moslems who had fallen into their hands. The arguments of those who favored hostilities finally prevailed. The opposition—which had been organized from purely interested motives—disappeared; the assembly, controlled by the skilful arts of the representatives of the government animated by enthusiastic zeal for conquest, declared for immediate action, and the sounds of preparation were soon heard in the city of Susa, whose harbor had been made the rendezvous of the expedition. The supreme command was intrusted to Asad-Ibn-Forat, Kadi of Tunis, a personage more renowned as a jurist and a theologian than as a master of the art of war, and who, like Musa, had already passed the ordinary limit of manly vigor and military ambition. A great force was mustered for the enterprise from every part of Northern Africa. The wild Berbers, whose faith was weak and vacillating except when revived by the prospect of booty, assembled in vast numbers. A fleet of a hundred vessels, exclusive of the squadron of the rebels, was equipped, and sailed from Susa on the thirteenth of June, 827. Three days afterwards the army disembarked at Mazara, which city was at once surrendered by the partisans of Euphemius, who outnumbered the garrison. The imperial army soon appeared, and a bloody engagement took place, in which the great numerical superiority of the Sicilians availed nothing against the desperate valor of the invaders, well aware that there was no refuge for them in case of defeat. The shouts of the Christians mingled with the chants of the soldiers of Islam as they repeated, according to custom, the verses of the Koran; the shock of the Arab cavalry was irresistible, and, their lines once broken, the Sicilians were routed on every side and dispersed in headlong flight. The Moslem victory was complete. The booty was enormous, not the least of it being the slaves who were sent in ship-loads to Africa. Such was the distrust of their allies, that Euphemius and his followers, although constituting a body respectable in numbers, were not permitted to take part in the battle. Neither the remembrance of personal indignity and disappointed ambition, nor the thirst for vengeance cherished by the exiles, was sufficient to remove from the mind of the Moslem general the feeling of suspicion which he entertained for their professions, and the contempt with which he regarded the proverbial duplicity of the Byzantine character.

A garrison having been stationed at Mazara, the Moslems marched on Syracuse. This city, although it had lost much of its former wealth and splendor, was still one of the most important seaports of the Mediterranean. Its ancient circumference of one hundred and eighty stadii—eleven and a half miles—was practically the same as when described by Strabo. A triple line of defences still encompassed it. Almost surrounded by the sea, it possessed two harbors—or rather basins—which afforded not only a safe anchorage for merchant vessels, but excellent means of protection in time of war. As at Carthage, these artificial harbors were supplied with well-appointed dock-yards and arsenals, and constituted the stronghold of the naval power of Sicily. The reverses of fortune it had experienced had not entirely deprived Syracuse of its superb monuments of antiquity. Many of the palaces which antedated the Roman occupation had been preserved. The fortifications which had repelled so many invaders were standing. At every turn the eye was delighted with the view of elegant porticoes and arches, towering columns, vast amphitheatres. In the suburbs were scattered the villas of the nobility, built upon the sites once occupied by the winter homes of those Roman patricians whose extortions had impoverished the island, and whose wealth had enabled them to command the services of the ministers of dissipation and luxury from every quarter of the globe. Strong in its natural situation, the city had been rendered doubly formidable by the skill of the military engineer. Its walls were lofty and of great thickness. Upon the side of the sea the aid of a powerful navy was indispensable to an attacking enemy. Aware of the great strategic value of the place, the imperial government had exercised unusual care in the preservation and repair of its defences. The only obstacle to a successful resistance was the extent of the fortifications, which required a garrison of many thousand soldiers to man them properly. The habitual carelessness and imaginary security of her pleasure-loving citizens had left Syracuse totally unprepared for a siege. At the approach of the Moslems, every expedient was adopted to remedy this culpable neglect. Supplies were hastily collected from the villages and fertile lands in the neighborhood. The precious vessels and furniture of the churches and religious houses were carried into the citadel. From the trembling artisans and laborers, who, with their families, had fled in haste to the city to escape the lances of the Berber cavalry, already scouting in the neighborhood, a numerous but inefficient militia was organized. In order to gain time, the progress of the Moslems was stayed by unprofitable negotiations, and a large sum of money was offered as a condition of their leaving the city unmolested. Euphemius, true to the base instincts of his race, and apparently eager to secure an ignominious distinction among his unprincipled countrymen by the commission of a double treason, secretly exhorted the garrison to a vigorous defence by promises of assistance and by the inculcation of patriotic maxims. The pretexts prompted by Byzantine perfidy could not long impose upon the wily and penetrating Ibn-Forat. His spies revealed the plans of the enemy; the Moslem army broke camp; and a few days afterwards the invaders appeared before the walls.

Notwithstanding their extensive preparations for the campaign, the Saracens were unprovided with the military appliances necessary to make the siege successful. Their engineers had not yet attained that superiority in their profession which subsequently enabled them to rank with the best soldiers of the age. Their great victories had been won, for the most part, by the activity of their operations, and by their intrepid behavior in the face of an enemy rather than by endurance and discipline. The transports were inadequate to an attack by water, which required the services of a fleet of well-built and well-protected galleys. In addition to these disadvantages, the force of Ibn-Forat had been reduced by the establishment of garrisons, by the casualties of battle, by disease, by desertion. A large detachment was constantly detailed to guard the prisoners and the spoil. Entire companies of Berbers, weary of the monotony and restraints of the camp, had abandoned the army after the battle, to indulge in their favorite pastimes of rapine and massacre. Thus hampered, a partial and ineffectual blockade was all that the Moorish general could hope to accomplish. He therefore threw up intrenchments and despatched a messenger to Africa for reinforcements.

It was not long before a more formidable enemy than the Byzantines attacked the camp of the besiegers. The country had been completely stripped of provisions by the foraging parties of both armies. Such supplies as had been overlooked by the Sicilians were wasted or destroyed by the Moors, who began to experience the effects of their improvidence in the sufferings of starvation. The soldiers devoured their horses. But these were not sufficiently numerous to satisfy the cravings of hunger, and the famishing Moslems were driven to the use of unwholesome plants and herbs. A mutiny broke out, which was at once suppressed by the iron will of the undaunted commander, who threatened, in case the mutineers did not return to their duty, to burn his ships. At length reinforcements and an abundant supply of provisions appeared in the camp, and, the spirits of the soldiery having revived, the lines were drawn still closer around the beleaguered city.

The latter had been strengthened by an army of Venetians under the Doge, Justinian Participazus, who had been ordered by the Emperor, Michael the Stammerer, to drive the Moslems from Syracuse. The task, however, proved too arduous for the dignitary, who seems to have been endowed with more conceit than military ability. While their communications by sea were not intercepted, the people of Syracuse were in no danger of famine, but on the land side the city was completely invested. The country was gradually occupied by the Saracens; a large force commanded by the governor of Palermo was decoyed into an ambush and cut to pieces; the prestige of victory tempted many subjects of the Emperor to renounce their allegiance and their faith for the code of Mohammed; and, although no impression had yet been made on the stupendous fortifications, the advantages of the war seemed to be entirely on the side of the Moslems. Disheartened by their enforced inactivity, and harassed by the clamors of the peasantry, who had witnessed from the ramparts the spoliation and ruin of their homes, the Sicilian authorities made overtures for peace, which were disdainfully refused.

But fortune, which had hitherto favored the invader, now deserted his standard. A pestilence, the result of exposure and unwholesome food, decimated the besiegers. Among the first to succumb was the veteran general, whose martial spirit and indomitable energy had been the soul of the enterprise. With him perished the only hand capable of restraining and utilizing the unruly elements which composed the Saracen army. Insubordination and tumult immediately arose. Amidst the confusion, the hostages and the commanders of fortresses and towns subdued by the Moslem arms who were detained as prisoners escaped. Information was at once spread throughout the island of the loss sustained by the enemy and of the demoralized condition of his camp. Confidence and order were not restored by the announcement that Mohammed-Ibn-al-Gewari had, by the suffrages of the soldiery, been raised to the dignity of lieutenant of the Sultan, when it was disclosed that his promotion had been brought about by the enemies of the sovereign; his chief title to their favor being subserviency to a faction whose overthrow had been mainly effected by the courage and address of the deceased commander. The favorable auspices under which the operations of the Moslems had hitherto been conducted no longer encouraged them with the prospect of success. Disease in its most appalling form, aggravated by neglect of the simplest sanitary precautions, stalked through their encampment. In addition to these misfortunes, the kingdom of Ziadet-Allah was harassed by the incursion of a band of Tuscan adventurers, who defeated the Sultan’s troops in a series of encounters and carried their victorious standards almost to the gates of Kairoan. Under these discouraging circumstances it was determined to raise the siege. The troops and baggage were embarked; but just as the fleet was ready to sail, a great squadron, sent by the Emperor to relieve the city, closed the entrance to the harbor. The Moorish army was hastily landed, the supplies and camp equipage were thrown into the sea, and the ships set on fire to avoid their seizure by the enemy. The sick were abandoned to their fate, and the disheartened soldiery, almost without provisions or the means of shelter, took refuge in the mountains, a day’s journey from the scene of their privations and discomfiture. Thus ended the first siege of Syracuse, whose immunity from capture was due more to the strength of its walls and the deficiency of its besiegers in military engines than to the resolution and intrepidity of its defenders. Half a century was to elapse before the cry of the muezzin would be heard from the tower of the cathedral, or the tramp of the Arab squadrons resound through the streets which had witnessed the exploits of Pyrrhus, Agathocles, and Marcellus.

In the elevated and salubrious region where stood the city of Mineo, to which they were led by Euphemius, the Saracens speedily found relief. The plague disappeared. Foraging parties were sent out, which returned with an abundance of supplies. The strength and courage of the despairing Moslems were restored; several fortified places fell into the hands of their flying squadrons, and, finally, they felt themselves strong enough to attempt an enterprise of the greatest importance. Near the interior of the island stood the fortress of Castrogiovanni,—the Castrum-Ennæ of antiquity. It was built upon a rock rising high above a table-land, whose surface, broken and rugged from the effects of volcanic action, resembled in its sharp and undulating ridges the billows of a stormy sea. Upon the summit of the rock once stood a temple dedicated to the worship of the goddess Ceres, the favorite deity of the pagan Sicilians. Every resource of engineering skill had been brought to bear to insure the impregnability of this formidable citadel. Numerous springs supplied the inhabitants with fresh water. With its natural advantages for defence, supplemented thus with all the artifices of human ingenuity, the siege of Castrogiovanni might well have deterred the boldest captain. But, undismayed by their unfortunate experience at Syracuse, the Moslems intrenched themselves before this stronghold. A sally of the Byzantine garrison was repulsed with great carnage. Communication with the surrounding country was cut off. In order publicly to announce the permanence of their occupancy, substantial barracks were raised for the troops, and money bearing the name and device of the Aghlabite dynasty was coined from silver reserved from the share of royal spoil. Once more the Saracens were called upon to pay the last honors to their general, and the army chose as its commander, Zobeir-Ibn-Ghauth. The latter proved no match for the active Theodotus, governor of Castrogiovanni, who craftily intercepted and cut to pieces a foraging detachment, and soon afterwards defeated the Moslems in a pitched battle in which they lost a thousand men. The siege was raised; the invaders retreated in confusion to Mineo; the inhabitants of the smaller fortresses, which the Moslems had occupied on their route, rebelled and massacred the garrisons; the sight of a turbaned horseman was sufficient to infuriate the peasantry of an entire province; and after two years of frightful privation and incessant conflict, the Moslems saw themselves restricted to the isolated fortified towns of Mineo and Mazara, which they themselves had taken without difficulty, and of whose possession they were scarcely sure for a single day in the face of a vindictive and determined enemy.

While the affairs of the invaders had grown desperate, and the speedy abandonment of the island seemed inevitable, fortune, with her proverbial fickleness, once more smiled upon them. A fleet manned by Spanish adventurers and commanded by an experienced officer, Asbagh-Ibn-Wikil, landed supplies and troops which strengthened the position of the despairing Saracens. The Greek emperor, Michael the Stammerer, died, and was succeeded by the weak and cruel Theophilus, who, amidst the pleasures of the Byzantine capital and the indulgence of his savage and perfidious instincts, had neither time nor treasure to devote to the recovery of the most important island of his dominions. The Venetian squadron in the pay of the Emperor, left without co-operation with the land forces, seeing little prospect of victory and still less of plunder, sailed ingloriously away, abandoning the decimated Byzantine army to the tender mercies of the Moorish pirates, who landing on all sides again swarmed over the island.

The civil commotions which had for a time seriously menaced the power of Ziadet-Allah having been quelled, he now felt himself at liberty to afford substantial aid to his subjects in Sicily. An imposing fleet of three hundred ships, transporting an army of twenty thousand men, sailed in the year 830 from the harbors of Africa. A force including such a great variety of nationalities had rarely assembled under the banner of any leader. Every tribe of Berbers and Arabs, from the Nile to the Atlantic, was represented in this motley and turbulent host. Yemenite exiles, refugees from Persia, renegade Greeks, and Spanish Moors of every faction which, in turn, had desolated the most enchanting and fertile provinces of the Peninsula, hastened to enlist in the invading army. The politic Ziadet-Allah offered with success tempting inducements to the enrolment of the Tunisian rebels who had recently disputed his authority; convinced that few of those dangerous subjects who could be prevailed upon to face the pestilential climate of the Sicilian coast and the weapons of the Byzantine veterans would ever return to vex the tranquillity of his empire. This expedition also was placed under the command of Asbagh-Ibn-Wikil, whose former attempt, already mentioned, had been merely in the nature of a reconnoissance. The invading army, despite its formidable appearance, failed to realize the expectations which had been raised by its numbers and its boasted valor. Without discipline, and wholly bent on plunder, its force was consumed in mutinous tumults and predatory excursions. The country, already devastated by the roving squadrons of both nations, was now compelled to sustain another oppressive visitation by robbers more pitiless and more insatiable than their predecessors. Still the enterprise of Asbagh was not entirely fruitless. Theodotus, the Byzantine general, was defeated and slain under the walls of Mineo, and the strong town of Ghalulia was taken by storm. But here the plague broke out in the Moslem camp. Asbagh and his principal officers perished; the deaths increased so rapidly that a retreat was resolved upon, and the Saracens, after sustaining considerable loss at the hands of the enemy, embarked in disorder and returned, a portion to Africa, but the majority to Spain.

Meanwhile a great blow had been struck by a detachment of Asbagh’s army acting, as it seems, independently of his orders. A division of Africans appeared suddenly before Palermo. The siege, which lasted a year, was pushed with an energy and a perseverance hitherto unprecedented in the military operations of the impetuous but easily disheartened Moslems. The defeat of the Greeks before Mineo deprived the garrison of all hope of relief from that quarter. The Emperor, with characteristic negligence, afforded but slight and ineffectual aid. Abandoned to their fate, the soldiery, reinforced by the public-spirited citizens, conducted an heroic but unavailing defence. In addition to the inevitable casualties of war, their ranks were reduced by hunger and the plague. From seventy thousand their numbers fell to three thousand within twelve months,—an almost incredible mortality. It was not in the power of human endurance to longer support such sufferings and privations. The governor negotiated an honorable capitulation, and the remnant of the garrison was permitted to depart without hinderance, retaining their arms and effects. The slaves of the Byzantine patricians experienced a change of masters, and the most famous insular emporium of the Mediterranean, whose traditions dated to the highest antiquity, whose history was inseparably interwoven with the stirring events of the fierce struggle of Rome and Carthage for the supremacy of the world, whose magnificence and sensuality were proverbial among the polished voluptuaries of Italy and the Orient, passed into the hands of the Saracen, to be raised under his auspices to a still higher degree of commercial greatness and material prosperity.

With the excellent base of operations afforded by the capture of Palermo, the affairs of the Moslems assumed a more promising aspect. No longer were they confined to the insufficient and precarious shelter of isolated castles and insignificant hamlets. The naval advantages of the city, whose harbor had been improved and enlarged by the labor of many successive nations, were incalculable. Easy and rapid communication was now possible with the ports of Africa. Supplies and reinforcements could be introduced into any part of the island in defiance of the utmost exertions of the naval power of Constantinople. The fertile territory included in this new conquest was capable, even under an imperfect and negligent system of cultivation, of furnishing support to a numerous army. Nor was the prestige attaching to the name of Palermo the least of the manifold benefits resulting from its possession. No city was better known throughout the countries bordering on the Mediterranean. It was founded by the Phœnicians. It had been one of the most frequented marts of antiquity. Tyre, Carthage, Athens, Rome, Constantinople, had in turn been enriched by its commerce, and had contaminated it with their vices. In natural advantages, in facility of intercourse with distant countries, in the possession of a trade established long before any mentioned in the earliest historical records, in the boundless agricultural possibilities of its adjacent territory, in the convenience and excellence of its port as a naval station, Palermo could vie with even the greatest commercial centres of the ancient or the medieval world. For the power which could take and hold such a city, the subjugation of Sicily was but a question of time.

The serious results of its occupation soon became apparent even to the inefficient and corrupt government of the Bosphorus. The depopulation of the city, where streets of palaces and rows of elegant suburban villas awaited the claim of the military adventurer, allured from every settlement of Northern Africa swarms of ferocious and intrepid soldiers of fortune. From a Christian community, Palermo was, as if by magic, metamorphosed into a colony of Islam. The cathedral became a Djalma; the churches were transformed into mosques. In accordance with Moorish custom, separate quarters were assigned to the votaries of different religions, and set apart for the maintenance of various branches of traffic. The entire city assumed an Oriental aspect. Flowing robes and lofty turbans took the place of the ungraceful Byzantine and Italian costumes. The veiled ladies of the harems, attended by gorgeously attired eunuchs, glided silently through the streets or peered coquettishly through projecting lattices at the passing stranger. The beasts of burden peculiar to the East, trooping along like the march of a caravan, became too common to excite the attention of the curious multitude. Everywhere appeared canals, aqueducts, fountains. The vegetation recalled to the traveller the date plantations and oleander groves of the Nile and the Euphrates. The villas of the military chieftain and the opulent merchant were counterparts of the exquisite palaces of Seville and Damascus. The genius of Arab civilization found nowhere a more favorable field for its exercise than at Palermo. Within a few months after its capture scarcely anything remained to suggest that the city had not always been Mohammedan. Every circumstance of time and locality was propitious to the foundation of a new and powerful Moslem state which, in subsequent times, was fated to influence the destiny and to form the civilization of some of the greatest monarchies of Christendom.

The factious character of the troops composing the victorious army was disclosed as soon as Palermo had fallen into their hands. A division of Spanish Moors which had been prominent in the attack upon the city claimed the conquest for the Ommeyades. But the superior numbers of the Africans, as well as the fact that the expedition had been equipped at the expense of the Sultan of Kairoan, soon disposed of this demand, and Ziadet-Allah appointed his cousin, Abu-Fihr-Mohammed, as his representative in Sicily. The Moslems, now secure of a refuge in case of disaster and constantly receiving reinforcements, began to make rapid progress in the subjection of the island. Their foraging parties infested every accessible portion of the country, and carried their ravages to the gates of Taormina on the eastern coast. The general success attending their arms was, however, clouded by the assassination of Abu-Fihr, whose murderers found an asylum with the enemy. His successor, Fadl-Ibn-Yakub, defeated the Greeks in a pitched battle; but the victory was rendered unprofitable by the incessant contentions of the hostile parties which infested every portion of the military and naval service of the Saracens. The unfavorable condition of affairs having been reported to Ziadet-Allah, he sent Abu-al-Aghlab, the brother of Abu-Fihr, to assume the supreme command. Under the direction of this wise prince, whose talents speedily reconciled the disputes and suppressed the insolence of the soldiery, the conquest was prosecuted with renewed energy. He equipped a squadron of vessels provided with projectiles of Greek fire, the most formidable weapon of the age, and by its means soon became the master of the coast. The neighboring islands which had hitherto escaped the calamities with which Sicily had been visited were laid waste. Corleone, Platani, Marineo, and many smaller towns were taken. The garrisons of the cities still held by the Christians were so intimidated that they feared to venture beyond their walls. At the end of the year 840 one-third of the island was in the possession of the Arabs; their occupancy had lost its original character of a desultory inroad, and now began to assume the appearance of a permanent settlement; a truce, welcomed if not actually solicited by the fears of the Greeks, imparted an assurance of at least temporary security to the inhabitants, while an increasing trade with Egypt, Africa, and Spain assured the commercial fortunes of the new colony, whose power and prestige had already advanced to such a height that its alliance was eagerly sought by its natural enemies on the other side of the Strait of Messina.

With the death of Charlemagne, the Papacy, deprived of its protector, was compelled to rely for the enforcement of its edicts upon the celestial power from which its traditions derived both their origin and their authority. Its divine claims to the obedience and reverence of mankind had, however, little weight with the fierce nobles of the age, when those pretensions were not sustained by armed force. At that time the princes of Beneventum, descendants of the Lombards, ruled the greater portion of Southern Italy. The little republics of Naples, Gaeta, Sorrento, and Amalfi, whose independence was a political anomaly in an era of feudal servitude, presented an unexpected and formidable barrier to the ambitious designs of the Lombard barons. Aware of the ultimate result of the struggle if fought unaided, and seeing no opportunity of obtaining assistance from the monarchs of Christendom, the despairing citizens of Naples applied to the Sicilian Moslems. The alliance then concluded endured for fifty years, in defiance of the proclamations of crusades, of the anathemas of the Church, and of the campaigns inaugurated under its auspices, and on more than one memorable occasion seriously menaced the perpetuity of the conditions which prevailed in the political and religious society of Europe.

The Emir, Abu-al-Aghlab, lost no time in despatching a fleet to assist the Neapolitans, already besieged by the Lombard prince, Sicardus. The city was relieved, and the besiegers so taken at a disadvantage that they were compelled to negotiate a truce with the republic, and to release without ransom the prisoners whom they had captured. Scarcely a year elapsed before the Neapolitans were called upon to enlist their services in an enterprise of not inferior importance. A Moslem squadron descended without warning upon Messina. Naples responded with alacrity to the summons of her new allies; and while the attention of the garrison was distracted by a furious attack by the combined fleets, a picked detachment scaled the walls from the rear, and almost without bloodshed another of the great Sicilian capitals was added to the rapidly increasing Moorish empire. Encouraged by their victory, the Saracens redoubled their efforts to extend and consolidate their dominion. Their annals have preserved for us the names and the memory of many flourishing cities, among them, Alimena, Lentini, and Butera, whose prosperity had survived the pernicious effects of Roman oppression and Byzantine neglect, whose capture was an important factor in the conquest, but whose history and location are now more or less involved in obscurity.

About this time the veteran Emir, Abu-al-Aghlab, died, full of years and glory. The populace of Palermo, elated by success, and desirous to assert, upon every occasion, their independent and seditious spirit, without notice to the court of Kairoan, chose by acclamation, as governor of the colony, Abbas-Ibn-Fadl, a captain noted for the determination of his character and the ferocity of his manners. Under his administration the war was prosecuted more vigorously than ever. The fields of the industrious peasant, however remote, were never secure from the destructive visits of the Arab freebooter. Such Christian settlements as were sufficiently wealthy were permitted to retain their lands upon payment of a tribute usually largely in excess of that prescribed by Mohammedan law, and which was but a doubtful guaranty of safety when the caprice of the conqueror suggested an increase of his already rapacious and extravagant demands. The requirements of a population constantly engaged in warfare necessitated the employment of a large number of slaves in the cultivation of the soil. These were obtained not only from captives taken in battle, but as a portion of the tribute wrung from the cowardly Greeks, who did not hesitate to sacrifice their retainers, and even their kinsmen, for the enjoyment of a temporary security. The Moors, conscious of the helplessness of their infidel tributaries, whom they considered as already vanquished and indebted for even existence to their own moderation, often refused offerings of gold and precious commodities, and exacted instead the delivery of a prescribed number of human cattle, whose lives were speedily extinguished by the severe labor to which they were subjected in the pestilential atmosphere of the coast and of the marshy valleys of the interior, where the culture of rice was conducted with great profit and with a flagrant disregard of the mortality it occasioned.

An incident, trivial in itself, but, in the event, most important, now occurred to further exalt the reputation of the Moslem arms. A Greek of high rank was seized by a scouting party of Saracens in the environs of Castrogiovanni. The prisoner, conducted to Palermo, and found to be incapable of manual labor and without means to procure the heavy ransom demanded, was condemned to death by the merciless governor, whose practical but cruel policy did not encourage the maintenance of useless captives. As he was being led away by the executioner, the Greek patrician implored with passionate entreaties the clemency of the Emir, promising him the possession of Castrogiovanni if his life were spared. Abbas listened with eagerness to a proposal so congenial to his adventurous and ambitious spirit. A detachment of a thousand horsemen and seven hundred foot, selected for their prowess, was assembled with all diligence and secrecy, and, guided by the renegade and commanded by the Emir in person, departed in silence from Palermo by night, and proceeded to its destination by unfrequented roads and the dangerous paths of mountain solitudes. Arriving without molestation in the vicinity of the city, the Arab general placed all of his cavalry and a portion of his infantry in ambush on the south, where the approach was the least difficult, and the groves of the suburban residences occupied by the wealthier inhabitants afforded excellent facilities for concealment. A chosen band of warriors, directed by the Byzantine traitor, ascended with infinite trouble the precipitous face of the rock on the north side of the citadel, and at the foot of the wall awaited with impatience the first rays of the sun. With the approach of dawn, the vigilance of the sentinels was relaxed, for the impregnable character of the fortress seemed of itself sufficient protection in the glare of open day, and, forgetting that vigilance is one of the first duties of a soldier, the guards sought repose after the fatigues of the night. No sooner had they disappeared from the ramparts, when the Moslems, in single file, introduced themselves into the citadel by means of an aqueduct which passed under the wall. The few stragglers abroad at that early hour were cut down; the gates were thrown open, and, amidst the clash of arms and the war-cry of the Moslems, the main body of the detachment, headed by the Emir, dashed into the city. The lustre of the triumph was sadly tarnished by the atrocities with which it was accompanied. The garrison was deliberately butchered. Not a single soldier escaped. The women and children were condemned to slavery. Within the walls of Castrogiovanni, as a place of absolute security, were collected the most distinguished and opulent of the Christian inhabitants, with the bulk of the remaining treasure of the island. The priesthood had stored here the wealth amassed by the fears and the generosity of the superstitious and devout populace during many centuries. All became the prey of the conqueror. The value of the booty was immense. Hardly a patrician family could be found in all Sicily which did not mourn the captivity of some relative or friend. The children of nobles who traced their genealogy to the most brilliant epoch of Roman grandeur were ruthlessly consigned to the guard-rooms and the harems of Moorish captains. The loss of Castrogiovanni was the greatest calamity which had befallen the Sicilians since the Saracens first landed on the island. The customary changes instituted by the latter on the capture of a city were perfected without delay, the churches were purified and turned into mosques, the estates of the vanquished were partitioned among the principal officers, the tribute of the surviving citizens was regulated, the slaves were apportioned among their new masters, and the plunder was classified and divided according to the regulations of Islam. The boundless exultation of the victors led them to set apart, in addition to the usual fifth of the spoil due to the Sultan, a portion of the richest booty and a number of the most beautiful captives for the Khalif of Bagdad, whose supremacy was not acknowledged by the Moorish princes of the West. Thus in the hour of triumph these sanguinary fanatics, many of whom recognized no law but that of force, and no faith save the idolatrous worship proscribed by the Koran, could forget the national hatred engendered by generations of hostility and the acrimony of religious controversy, in their magnanimous desire to honor the Successor of the Prophet, the most exalted potentate of the Mohammedan world.

The political results that followed the surprise of Castrogiovanni were not less weighty than the physical advantages which enured to the victorious Saracens. The military prestige of the latter was immensely increased. While the Christians held the fortress it was confidently believed that no enemy could take it. The flower of the Moslem army had already retired in disgrace from before its walls. It was the bulwark of imperial power, the refuge of the Church, the asylum of the timid. Its possession was a guaranty that the hated invader could never extend his dominion over the island; the pledge that the ceremonies of his blasphemous ritual would never pollute the holy precincts of its temples. Relics, whose miraculous virtues were attested by the votive offerings of the pious of many generations, were exhibited upon its shrines. And now that this stronghold had fallen, men lost confidence in the protecting power of Heaven, as they had already done in the efficacy of human weapons. The unfortunate garrison had paid for its negligence with death. The sacred mementos of the saints had been discredited. To a feeling of apathy, however, soon succeeded a desire for vengeance. Even the idle and licentious court of Constantinople was stirred to action, and a fleet of three hundred sail was despatched from the Bosphorus to retrieve the disaster and to re-establish the imperial authority. Landing at Syracuse, the Greeks advanced along the coast accompanied by the fleet. The Emir, advised of their movements, fell upon them unexpectedly; the astonished and ill-disciplined soldiers of the East were unable to withstand the furious attack of the Arabs, and in the rout which followed the savage victors indulged to satiety their thirst for carnage. No prisoners were taken. The terrified Greeks, huddled together in disorder, were massacred without pity. Hundreds were drowned in an ineffectual attempt to reach the fleet by swimming. The intrepid Moslems, with the aid of boats obtained from Palermo, captured a hundred vessels from the enemy; their crews being driven into the water at the edge of the scimetar. Undaunted by this catastrophe, a second expedition was organized for the reconquest of the island; the imperial army was increased by a considerable number of Sicilians, and the combined forces marched upon Palermo. Again the wily Abbas, by the celerity of his movements and the bravery of his troops, disconcerted the plans of the enemy. After a furious battle near Cefalu, the advantage of the day remained with the Saracens; the Greeks were compelled to retreat, and the Emir, enraged by the obstinate resistance he had encountered, retaliated by carrying fire and sword to the gates of Syracuse.

Soon after his return from this expedition, Abbas became ill and died, and his remains, committed to the grave by his sorrowing followers, were, after the departure of the latter, dug up by the Greeks, insulted by every device of impotent malice which hatred and fear could suggest, and finally consumed by fire; the only means of revenge available to his pusillanimous adversaries, who had so frequently experienced the vindictiveness of his temper and the power of his arms. During the eleven years of his administration, the Christians were subjected to continuous warfare. Like the Great Al-Mansur, he understood perfectly the advantages of allowing an enemy no time to replenish his treasury or to recruit his strength. By the efforts of his military genius the boundaries of the imperial domain had been annually contracted, until little territory acknowledged the supremacy of Constantinople except that in the immediate vicinity of Syracuse. His political sagacity suggested the alliance with the disaffected states of Italy, and the establishment of Moslem settlements on the main-land as a basis of future military operations and a perpetual menace to both the imperial and the papal courts.

The death of the Emir Abbas was the signal of discord and contention in every Saracen community in Sicily. The tribal prejudices of the different factions which had been temporarily repressed by the iron will of the deceased governor now manifested themselves with greater violence than ever. The Berbers, the Yemenites, and the Ismailians arrayed themselves against one another in a bitter triangular contest. Assassination became of every-day occurrence. The property of citizens was not secure from the rapacious and insubordinate soldiery even within the walls of castles. With the commission of every fresh outrage, the animosity of the rival factions was inflamed and intensified. Towns and districts became mutually and vindictively hostile. As was the case in all the countries governed by the Mohammedan polity, whose regulations were incapable of controlling the antagonistic elements which from the very foundation of a state threatened its dismemberment, the Sicilian colony disclosed the same symptoms of ruin, and began to exhibit a tendency to disintegration even before the sovereignty of the Moslems had been fully established over the island.

A monarch of far different temper from his predecessors was now seated upon the throne of the Cæsars. The career of Basil, the Macedonian, whose statesmanlike qualities and inflexible resolution had reformed the administration of the Empire, had suppressed the abuses of the Church, and had challenged the respect of the barbarians, seemed to indicate an adversary far more to be feared than the two Michaels,—the “Stammerer” and the “Drunkard,”—under whose disgraceful reigns the successes of the Moslems had been principally obtained.

Before this epoch the Christians of Sicily, notwithstanding the prejudices of race and religious belief, and the grievous injuries they had sustained at the hands of their enemies, had begun to observe with increasing favor the equitable government of the Moslems as compared with the capricious and extortionate exactions of the officials of the Empire. The condition of the tributaries under Mussulman dominion, while unquestionably less favorable than that of their co-religionists in almost any other Mohammedan country, was still worthy of envy by the subjects of the Byzantine Emperor. Their tax was certain and fixed by law. They enjoyed, unmolested by persecution, the practice of their faith and the observance of their social customs, so far as they did not interfere with those peculiar to their rulers. Their own magistrates dispensed justice in ordinary causes according to the forms of legal procedure to which they had always been accustomed. The frequent impositions of the court of Constantinople were far more onerous than the tribute demanded at a defined period by the collectors of the Moorish treasury. All things considered, there is little doubt that, had it not been for the pernicious example of anarchy afforded by hostile factions at the death of every emir, the remaining portion of the island would have voluntarily submitted within a few years to the authority of Islam. The excesses of the ferocious partisans, who, during the interregnum preceding the election of every new governor, plundered friend and foe alike, deterred the timid Christians from seeking a change of masters, and the accession of the Emperor Basil confirmed them in their allegiance. The first effort of the new sovereign was to raise the aspirations of the tributaries to independence. Conspiracies were formed. A considerable part of the territory held by the Moslems, visited by the emissaries of the Emperor, and encouraged by the disturbances following the death of Abbas, revolted. The insurrection was quelled, but the misconduct of the captains appointed by the new governor, Khafagia-Ibn-Sofian, brought disgrace and disaster upon the Saracen arms. The Emir himself was repulsed before Syracuse, which had been reinforced and greatly strengthened by the Emperor, who recognized it as the key of the imperial power in Sicily. Not long afterwards this misfortune was retrieved by a great victory gained over the imperial forces under the walls of that city, in which the army of the Greeks was almost annihilated, and the Moslems, laden with the rich spoil of the East, returned in triumph to Palermo. In the year 869 Khafagia lost his life in an ineffectual attempt to capture Syracuse by storm. The next year his son Mohammed, who succeeded him, was assassinated by his own slaves.

The repeated reverses sustained by the Greeks had impaired confidence in their leaders, whose incompetency was more responsible for the defeats of the imperial army than the want of discipline which was so conspicuous among the rank and file. Although the progress of the Moslems was slow, it was certain. Their losses were easily repaired, their impetuosity was rather stimulated than checked by misfortune, and in every respect their recuperative power proved itself superior to that of their enemies. The territory of Sicily, although far from subdued, seemed too limited for their daring ambition. Passing the Strait of Messina they swept the ancient province of Magna-Græcia with destruction. They conquered Apulia and Calabria. They ravaged the duchy of Spoleto. They surprised Ancona. They seized Beneventum, Brindisi, Tarentum, Bari. They occupied the promontory of Misenum, under the very walls of Naples. They established themselves on the coast of Dalmatia. They sacked and burned the ancient city of Capua. They founded the colony of Garigliano, a constant menace to the Papal States, and long the scourge of the Christian principalities of Italy. Independent settlements, composed of soldiers of fortune who had become familiarized with their pitiless calling in the civil wars of Spain and Africa, were founded throughout the south of the Italian Peninsula. The captains of these outlaws assumed the titles of sovereignty, robbed and massacred the Christian peasants, and acquired for the name of Moslem a terror and an execration not inferior to that which distinguished the powers of darkness. Neapolitan pilots guided their corsairs along the shores of the Adriatic. The squadrons of the Sultan of Africa routed the Venetians in several naval encounters, landed forces at the mouth of the Po, drove the commerce of the Italian republics from the sea, and pushed their incursions as far as the confines of Istria. They penetrated to the gates of Rome, destroyed the churches of St. Peter and St. Paul, which were situated outside the walls, and insulted the dignity of the Holy See by horrible acts of sacrilege. The relics of the Saints were subjected to unspeakable insult. Monks were slaughtered without mercy or driven away in crowds to toil in the Sicilian marshes. Nuns were seized to be exposed for sale in the slave-markets of Palermo and Kairoan. Had it not been that the Eternal City was too well fortified for an army unprovided with the military engines necessary for a siege to attack it with any prospect of success, the Mohammedan worship might have been introduced into the stronghold of Christianity. With the exception of the sack of Rome by the Constable of Bourbon in a subsequent age, the throne of the Papacy was never subjected to a more humiliating indignity. The constant dissensions of the semi-independent principalities of Italy aided in maintaining the foothold of the Saracens far more than their own valor or resources. Their colonies existed by the sufferance of their foes. The feudal barons, in most instances, detested their Christian neighbors—not infrequently connected with them by ties of blood as well as by the obligations of a common religious belief—far more than the blaspheming Moslems. In vain was the aid of the Emperor of Germany invoked; his plans were thwarted by the discord and treachery of his allies. The forces he despatched for the relief of the Italians were constantly at variance with the Byzantines, and armies, almost equal to the conquest of an empire, were fruitlessly employed in the quarrels of petty sovereigns, whose union was indispensable to the expulsion of a crafty and audacious enemy. The Pope, either through weakness or from motives of policy, seems to have generally kept aloof from this crusade, prosecuted in his behalf as the head of Christendom, as well as to assure the stability of his temporal power.

During the course of these events, Ibrahim-Ibn-Ahmed, a prince of rare administrative talents, of vast accomplishments, of boundless ambition, and of a character remarkable for barbarity even in an age of tyrants, had ascended the throne of Kairoan. Desirous of signalizing his accession by the successful prosecution of an enterprise which his predecessors had in vain attempted, he determined to capture Syracuse. A numerous army was raised. In accordance with the favorite policy of the sovereigns of Africa, special care was exercised that the malcontents who had manifested hostility towards the government should be enrolled in the expedition. When pecuniary inducements failed to tempt these disturbers of the peace, they were seized and forced to embark. The preparations were worthy of the importance and difficulties of the undertaking. The fleet consisted of the swiftest and largest vessels of the Moorish navy. The army was provided with the most formidable engines ever constructed by the Arabs for the siege of any city. The command was intrusted to Giafar-Ibn-Mohammed, the newly appointed Emir of Sicily, an officer of ability, experience, and courage.

It was fifty years since the Moslems had made their first attempt to wrest from the Byzantines this great city renowned from the earliest antiquity. Its conquest had been the cherished dream of many emirs, one after another of whom had retired in disgrace from before its walls. In every campaign, its suburbs, and the lands upon which its population were mainly dependent for subsistence, had been ravaged by squadrons of Moorish horsemen. The diminution of tribute consequent upon the failure and destruction of agricultural products, the massacre and enslavement of the cultivators of the soil, the stagnation of commerce, and the emigration of wealthy citizens, had induced the court of Constantinople—which viewed every question with an eye single to pecuniary advantage—to almost withdraw its support from the last remaining bulwark against the Moslem supremacy in Sicily. The number of inhabitants had been greatly diminished within a quarter of a century. The troops who still maintained the shadow of imperial power in the island were largely recruited from the martial youth of Syracuse. The pestilence, which had so often decimated the besiegers, had not spared the defenders of the city. Thousands had perished from this cause alone. These facts being considered, and the vast extent of its walls being remembered, it is probable that at no previous period of its history was Syracuse so ill qualified to sustain a siege.

The Byzantine commander, aware of his inability to defend the outer fortifications, within which stood the finest houses and the cathedral, withdrew to the inner line which traversed the isthmus separating the two basins of the harbor. So far as the number and importance of its buildings were concerned, the city was more than half taken when the Moslem army, without opposition, filed through the deserted gateways of the outer wall. Upon the narrow isthmus, measuring but little more than a hundred yards in width, the assembled forces of both armies contended furiously for the mastery. The Moorish engineers had invented catapults of improved construction and terrific power, which instead of projecting their missiles in a curve, as had hitherto been the case, hurled them directly against the walls with unheard-of velocity and accuracy of aim. Every expedient familiar to ancient warfare was adopted to drive the garrison to extremity. Mines were carried under the towers. Greek fire was thrown into every quarter of the city, to the dismay of the besieged, who found themselves continually threatened with destructive conflagrations. The Christians were compelled to the exertion of constant vigilance to repel the storming parties that mounted to the attack at all hours of the day and night. A fleet sent by the Emperor to raise the siege was dispersed by the Saracen galleys, which by this victory virtually acquired control of the Mediterranean. The double port was occupied by the enemy, the Greeks were driven from the northern side of the city into the citadel, and the walls which defended the harbor were demolished. The Syracusans were now abandoned to their own resources. Their valor, their endurance, and their loyalty were their sole reliance. No assistance could reach them from any quarter. Assailed by sea and land, they maintained an obstinate defence. With an improvidence characteristic of the Byzantine, no adequate supply of provisions had been collected. The rapid movements of the Moslems and their unexpected appearance had prevented any subsequent reparation of this inexcusable neglect. Despite the disadvantages under which they labored, the people of Syracuse sustained with honor the martial reputation of their city, famous for many a hard-fought contest. Famine destroyed many whom the weapons of the enemy had spared. The inhabitants were reduced to eat moss scraped from the walls, to devour hides and broken bones, even to feed upon the flesh of the slain. An ass’s head was valued at twenty gold byzants; a small measure of grain could not be obtained for less than one hundred and fifty. The use of unwholesome food soon produced a plague. Such was the mortality from this cause alone that one-quarter of the inhabitants perished in a month. Notwithstanding their knowledge of the inertness of the Byzantine government, and the rigid blockade of the Moslems, the Syracusans had not relinquished all hope of relief. The Emperor Basil had grievously disappointed the expectations which had been formed of his character, which had been derived from his early career as a soldier, and from his vigorous measures of reform on his accession to the imperial throne. His mind had proved incapable of withstanding the blighting ecclesiastical influence which pervaded the atmosphere of Constantinople. Of late, he had endeavored to expiate the errors and crimes of former years by a degrading subserviency to the sacerdotal order. He honored the priesthood with employments of the highest importance. Monks, some of them eunuchs of unsavory antecedents, became his advisers in affairs of state. He erected a hundred churches, many of them in honor of St. Michael, as the ineffectual atonement of a guilty conscience for the cruel treatment of his murdered sovereign. And now, while the Syracusans were striving, with undaunted courage, to uphold the dignity and power of the Empire in the only stronghold of Sicily which still resisted the encroachments of the infidel, this abject slave of superstition was employing his soldiers in the construction of a stately basilica, a penance enjoined by the exhortations of his ghostly counsellors.

As the spirits of the besieged fell day by day, and their ranks were thinned by casualty, famine, and disease, the efforts of the Moslems became more determined than ever. The massive walls of the citadel gradually crumbled under the incessant discharges from ballistas and catapults directed against such a limited extent of their circumference. The great tower which defended the larger harbor, undermined, and battered for months by the military engines, was finally precipitated into the water, carrying with it a part of the contiguous defences. This event, long expected by the besiegers, was the signal for a furious assault. Urged on by every consideration of ambition, zeal, avarice, and revenge, the Saracens entered the breach with an impetuosity that threatened to bear down all opposition. But they were met with a determination equal to their own. The garrison, though weakened by privation and fatigue, sustained the struggle with the energy of despair. The inhabitants, all told, scarcely reached the number of twenty thousand. Each one, however, contributed his or her part towards the defence of home and religion; the priests, attired in their sacred vestments, animated the soldiery by their prayers and benedictions, the women cared tenderly for the wounded and the dying. For twenty days and nights the valor of the Syracusans held their assailants at bay. A rampart of corpses, rising for many feet upon the ruins of the demolished wall, afforded a ghastly bulwark for the protection of the besieged, while it poisoned the air far and wide with its horrible effluvium. The combat was hand to hand. No missile weapons were used. The issue could not be doubtful, and yet the Christians never for an instant entertained a thought of surrender. At length the Moslems withdrew, the din of battle ceased, and the governor, without distrusting the intentions of his wily enemy, leaving a small detachment to keep watch, retired with the main body of his forces for a moment’s rest. All at once every engine in the Saracen camp sent forth its deadly projectiles, and from ruined houses, fallen rampart, and shattered wall, the besiegers, at the stirring sound of atabal and trumpet, again rushed forward into the breach. The success of the stratagem was complete. The slender guard to which the careless confidence of the governor had committed the destinies of the devoted city was cut to pieces in an instant. The garrison, massing its forces in the streets, endeavored in vain to stem the furious torrent. The frightened inhabitants sought the sanctuary of the churches only to be butchered at the altar. Exasperated beyond measure by the resistance of a people who, even in the face of death, disdained to yield, the fierce assailants greedily satiated their thirst for blood. The archbishop and three of his ecclesiastical subordinates, seized in the cathedral, were spared on condition of revealing the place where were deposited the sacred vessels used in the ceremonial of public worship. The heroic governor, whose name unfortunately no Christian or Arab writer has deemed worthy to be transmitted to posterity, threw himself with seventy nobles into a tower of the citadel, which was stormed and taken on the ensuing day. As was the custom in the Sicilian wars prosecuted by the Saracens, all men of mature age were put to the sword. Such of these as had escaped the weapons of the enemy during the assault were collected, imprisoned for a week, and then, huddled together in a narrow space, were inhumanly beaten and stoned to death. Some imprudent zealots, who courted martyrdom by reviling the name of Mohammed, were flayed alive. Four thousand captives were disposed of in a single day by this atrocious but effective method. The women and children, without exception, were condemned to slavery. Out of nearly fifteen thousand people, but a few hundred succeeded in evading the vigilant search of the Saracens, to carry into Christian lands the story of a defence seldom equalled for gallantry and endurance in the annals of warfare, and to publish to the astonished and indignant nations of Europe the criminal apathy and cowardice of the vaunted champion of Christendom, the weak and superstitious sovereign of the Eastern Empire. As Syracuse had long been the principal depository of the treasure of the island which had escaped the rapacity of former campaigns, as well as a place far famed for its commerce and the wealth of its citizens, great booty was secured by the conquerors. The Arab chroniclers relate that in no other capital ever subjected to the Moslems did such precious spoil fall into their hands. The ecclesiastic Theodosius, an eye-witness not disposed to exaggerate the success of his enemies, places its value at a million byzants, equal at the present time to more than twenty million dollars. The sacred vessels and utensils taken from the churches weighed five thousand pounds. Composed entirely of the precious metals, their value, intrinsically enormous, was greatly enhanced by their exquisite workmanship, which exhibited the skill of the most accomplished artisans of Constantinople. For some reason, for which at this lapse of time it is impossible to offer a plausible conjecture, the Moslems determined to utterly demolish the stronghold which had so long and so resolutely resisted their arms. As the battle had been confined to a comparatively limited area, the larger portion of the city was still uninjured. The outer walls, which enclosed the suburbs and the splendid mansions of the wealthy and the noble, were intact. Entire streets, while silent and deserted, presented no other evidence of the destructiveness of war. Rows of marble palaces still reared their majestic fronts along the avenues and squares which the opulent Syracusans had embellished with every resource of pomp and luxury. On all sides were elegant colonnades, amphitheatres, temples. In the public gardens the senses were delighted and refreshed by numerous parterres and fountains; in the forums, at every step, the observer was confronted with the speaking effigies of the famous heroes of antiquity. While devoted to the lucrative pursuits of commerce, the attention of the polished citizens of Syracuse had been by no means monopolized by practical occupations. They were generous patrons of literary and artistic genius. Their architects and their sculptors seem to have inherited no small proportion of Attic excellence. No Italian city which derived its civilization from Grecian colonists had preserved unimpaired to such a high degree the evidences of its noble origin. The elegant conceptions embodied in the works of the artists of Syracuse, the skill of their execution, the purity of taste they disclosed, the superiority of their materials, offered a marked contrast to the crude and barbaric efforts of Byzantine mediocrity.

There seemed no reason why this magnificent city should be doomed to annihilation. Its fortifications—whose prodigious strength had been demonstrated by a contest of half a century—could have been easily repaired. Its situation was delightful, its harbors capacious, its territory productive, its mercantile facilities unrivalled. Its abandoned habitations could without difficulty have afforded shelter to a population of a hundred thousand souls. The remembrance of its traditions, the prestige of its name, the glory of its capture, might well have induced the victors to preserve it as an enduring monument to their perseverance and valor. But no considerations of utility or sentiment influenced the ruthless determination of the Moorish commander. The order went forth that Syracuse must be utterly destroyed. An idea can be formed of the massive character of its structures by the statement that two months were required for their demolition. At length, when the walls had been dismantled, the houses razed, and the harbors choked with rubbish, the conquerors applied the torch, and the flames completed the ruin which rapine and vandalism had so successfully begun.

The prisoners and the spoil were despatched to Palermo under a strong guard of Africans. Six days and nights were required for the painful journey. Eager to arrive at their destination, the brutal soldiery refused to allow their captives a moment of rest, and the march was accomplished without a halt, except when the necessity of preparing food or the physical obstacles of the mountain pathways caused delay. At the approach of the melancholy procession the gates of the Moslem capital poured forth its thousands of turbaned spectators. The sight of the long train of captives, and of plunder such as had never before dazzled the eyes of the most experienced veteran, aroused the fervid enthusiasm of the multitude. Some displayed their joy by extravagant gestures and dances, but the majority, more decorous, chanted in unison appropriate passages from the Koran. Many of the captives, after unspeakable sufferings, perished in the subterranean dungeons of Palermo. Others obtained an infamous security by the public renunciation of their faith. The fall of Syracuse practically completes the Moslem conquest of Sicily. The degenerate monarch, who, through his inexcusable neglect, was responsible for the loss of the island, made no serious effort to recover it. A few insignificant towns, the principal of which was Taormina, indebted for their safety rather to the indifference of the Saracens than to their own impregnability, still remained faithful to the Emperor. The Byzantine standard—the emblem of rapacity, bigotry, and every political abuse—disappeared forever from those lofty ramparts where it had waved for so many centuries. Henceforth the prowess of the conquerors was to be principally exerted against each other. The annals of Sicily for many subsequent years are a tedious and unprofitable recital of conspiracies, assassinations, and civil commotions, of the ineffectual efforts of ambitious captains aspiring to independent sovereignty, of the rapid succession of emirs of sanguinary tastes and mediocre abilities, of defiance of and indecisive conflicts with the princes of Kairoan. History was repeating itself. The disorders which had disgraced the society of every Moslem country, when the apparent cohesion of races was dissolved by the defeat and expulsion of the common enemy, were now exhibited on a smaller scale, but with no less vindictiveness, upon the narrow theatre of Sicily. Elevation to the emirate, whether sanctioned or not by the confirmation and investiture of the African Sultan, had become a most perilous distinction. Tribes and factions pursued each other with relentless hatred. Not even in Spain were the glaring defects of the Moslem polity more conspicuous, or the vicious character of the components of the social organization more thoroughly revealed. The constant deportation of criminals and political malcontents by the Sultans of Africa, as a measure of prudence whose inexpediency was demonstrated in every new insurrection, was largely responsible for this general disorganization. It could not reasonably be supposed that these disturbers of public tranquillity, whose lives had been passed amidst the turmoil of religious and military revolution, would remain quiet under any government.

While the Moslem factions with varying success were wasting their energies in suicidal conflicts, the Christian communities, many of which were respectable in wealth and numbers, were enabled by sufferance to enjoy a temporary respite. The conclusion of the war had accomplished one most beneficial result, an interchange of captives. From the dark vaults of noisome dungeons; from the galley, with its scourge and its clanking fetters; from the rice-fields, reeking with miasmatic vapors; from the gilded antechambers of the harem; the prisoners, who had long since abandoned hope, were now led forth to be restored to home and kindred. The struggle which for more than half a century had engaged alike the attention of Christian and Moslem throughout the world was ended. Mankind now began to cast anxious glances towards the new Mohammedan state which formed a stepping-stone by which the hordes of Africa might once more enter Europe. The passage of the Strait of Messina offered fewer obstacles to an invader than that of the Strait of Gibraltar. From the confines of Calabria it was a march of only a few days to Rome, and it was not forgotten that the banners of Islam had once been seen before the walls of the Eternal City. Numerous colonies of Moslems, most of which seemed to threaten permanent occupancy, were established in Southern Italy; the Moorish navy had asserted its power in the Adriatic; an intimate alliance existed between the Republic of Naples and the emirs of Sicily. Not without cause therefore did Christendom regard with unconcealed apprehension the presence of such implacable foes in close proximity to her capital. No adequate means of defence existed to ward off the impending danger. The court of Constantinople had retired discomfited from the field. Italy was distracted by the quarrels of a multitude of insignificant principalities. The Papacy had not yet attained to that commanding position in the political system of Europe which it subsequently occupied, and its temporal power was confined to the agitation of the mob of the capital, whose passions, once aroused, it was not always able to control. The dream of Musa, who boasted that the unity of God would be proclaimed in the Church of St. Peter, seemed now far more easy of realization, when the Saracen armies were separated from Rome by only a narrow channel and a few hours’ march, than when the project first awoke the ambition of that daring general beyond the intervening mountain barriers of the Pyrenees and the Alps.

The peace of the island having been finally assured after much bloodshed, the efforts of the emirs were directed to the extension of their empire in Italy. Political necessity rather than inclination had compelled the rulers of the Saracen settlements in Calabria and Apulia to recognize the superior jurisdiction of the governors of Sicily. The division of those regions between so many powers of different nationalities and forms of government—imperial, republican, theocratic—was the cause of mutual distrust and irreconcilable hatred. Each held aloof from alliance or even from intercourse with the others. Their very weakness was at first the guaranty of their safety. The Moslem, however, took advantage of this circumstance to attack his adversaries in detail. On one side he drove back the Byzantines, who had begun to threaten his settlements on the Gulf of Tarentum. On another, his cavalry swept away the flocks of the Roman Campagna. The republics, restrained by the faith of treaties, and the barons, who had more than once felt the keen edge of the Moorish scimetar, preserved a prudent neutrality. The country in the vicinity of the papal metropolis for a radius of many miles suffered from these inroads. Large districts were rendered uninhabitable. An important source of the food supply of Rome was destroyed. The fury of the Moslems was, as usual, chiefly aimed at the ecclesiastical establishments. Churches and convents were destroyed, the priests butchered, the nuns hurried away to the seraglio. The fugitives who sought an asylum at Rome crowded the streets and the religious houses, and taxed to the utmost the resources of monastic hospitality and benevolence. Within the walls of the Eternal City all was trepidation and despair. An attack was hourly apprehended, the sacred machinery of the church was put in motion to avert the impending calamity, and the result invested with new and profitable credit the performance of penance, the exhibition of relics, and the solemn processions, whose influence was presumed to have effected the deliverance of the Vicar of God.

It is not within the scope of this work to recount in detail the monotonous sequence of fruitless revolutions, changes of rulers, religious disputes, and inveterate animosities of sects and races which compose the history of Sicily under the Arabs. No magnificent dynasty like those of the Ommeyades at Cordova and the Abbasides at Bagdad arose in the island to promote the cause of learning and science, and to reflect imperishable lustre on the Moslem name. No great commander carried his victorious arms beyond the Apennines and the Alps. The maritime superiority acquired by the fleets of Palermo was lost in a day in the bay of Naples, and the Byzantine navy once more became supreme in the Mediterranean. No military exploit worthy of record has been preserved save the storming of Taormina, which still obeyed the Greek Emperor, in the beginning of the tenth century.

The cruelty with which the ascendency of each triumphant faction was celebrated familiarized the Sicilians with scenes of blood, and impressed itself indelibly upon the national character, while the innate love of rapine, common to Arab and Berber alike, still survives in the irrepressible brigandage of to-day. The greatest opportunity ever afforded the Moslems for the conquest and conversion of Europe was lost by the irresolution of the Sultans of Africa, and by the perpetual discord which exhausted the strength and dissipated the resources of Sicily. After acknowledgment in turn of the suzerainty of Aghlabite, Abbaside, and Fatimite princes, the mutual persecution of religious sects, and the long toleration of the feuds of antagonistic races, the Sicilian emirate finally attained to independence, based upon the law of hereditary succession. But this new political condition brought no peace to the unhappy island. Every captain of banditti, every ambitious courtier, considered himself eligible to a dignity which could claim in reality no better title than that given by the sword. The country was divided into numerous states agitated by petty jealousies and incapable of concerted action in an hour of national peril. The city of Syracuse, which had been partially rebuilt and, despite the unsettled affairs of the times, had once more become an important seaport, was in the year 1060 the capital of Ibn-Thimna, who exercised a nominal authority over the larger portion of the island. A domestic quarrel brought him in collision with Ibn-Hawwasci, the governor of Castrogiovanni; a battle was fought, the army of Ibn-Thimna was destroyed, and the conqueror succeeded to the dignity and the dominions of his vanquished rival. Consumed with hatred and regardless of consequences, Ibn-Thimna then solicited the aid of a band of adventurers whose prowess was widely renowned throughout Europe, and the exploits of whose ancestors in former ages had caused them to be considered the scourge of civilization and the implacable enemies of the human race.

In the Italian Peninsula, the Moslems long held the balance of power. Its most productive territory was for fourteen years a prey to the violence and rapacity of a few hundred Arab freebooters. The ministers of the Church were naturally the principal objects of their hostility and contempt. The priests were put to death after having been subjected to every indignity. The monks were tortured, enslaved, emasculated. The consecrated vessels of divine worship—whose hiding place was revealed by serfs exasperated by generations of oppression—were profaned with every refinement of blasphemy and sacrilege. Dogs and horses were enveloped in sacred vestments. The smoke of censers perfumed the air amidst the orgies of licentious banquets. From jewelled chalices were drunk toasts to the success of the Moslem armies. Upon the very altar was sacrificed the chastity of the spouses of Christ. During the ninth century, every ship bound for Italian ports was laid under contribution by the Arab corsairs. The dukes of Spoleto and Tuscany joined the Saracens of Tarentum in an impious league to deprive the Pontiff of his possessions and his power. The republics of Gaeta, Naples, Amalfi, and Salerno formed a confederacy to the same end with the Emir of Sicily. Pope John VIII., abandoned by his vassals, for two years regularly paid tribute to the infidel, and the Holy See thus became virtually a dependency of the Moslem empire.

In the cosmopolitan cities of Palermo and Messina were grouped types of every race of Europe, Africa, and Asia, the most turbulent elements of medieval society, the most vicious products of the evils of servitude and the tyranny of caste; native Sicilians, degenerate Greeks, Lombard exiles; Negroes, Persians, and Jews; outlawed criminals, pariahs, refugees, apostates, and banditti. Here personal feuds and tribal hatred were prosecuted with every circumstance of perfidiousness and ferocity. Here Arab and Berber renewed the quarrel begun a century before in Mauritania, which in the end involved in ruin both the Ommeyade dynasty and the Sicilian Emirate. Here was nourished the spirit of discord which proved fatal to Moslem supremacy and called in the Normans, as in former times the dissensions of the Lombard principalities had invited the Saracen invasion of Italy. The rule of the Byzantine had been feeble, inert, and quiescent; moulded by the incompetency of a cowardly government and the fears of a degraded people. That of the Arab, on the other hand, was restless, energetic, ambitious, aggressive. His versatility and his enterprise were unfortunately largely neutralized by the character of the elements with which he had to deal. As proved by the event, a formidable state may be founded, but cannot be perpetuated, by a coalition of outcasts. It is not from such sources that are derived the greatness, the glory, the security of empires.

The Normans of the eleventh century had, by the intercourse of several generations of warriors with the polished nations of the Mediterranean, acquired a knowledge of the laws of humanity and the usages of social life unheard of among their barbarian forefathers, who had defied the perils of the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay in diminutive vessels of skins and osier, and carried dismay among the populous cities and rich settlements of the Seine and the Guadalquivir. Tempted by the charms of soil and climate enjoyed by that province of Northern France which still retains their name and the memory of their valor, these daring pirates exchanged without hesitation the dangers of a predatory existence upon the seas for the less exciting but more profitable employments of a sedentary life. With the abandonment of country was at the same time associated a renunciation of religion. The Pagan ceremonies and savage customs attending the worship of Woden were discarded for the imposing forms and benign precepts of Christianity. These significant events did not, however, produce any material alteration in the tastes, the character, or the aspirations of the great body of the Norman youth. The theatre of action alone was changed. In a moral point of view, no appreciable distinction exists between a pirate and a soldier of fortune. The Norman man-at-arms retained all the marauding instincts of his race, modified to some extent by the civilization with which he was occasionally brought in contact through his casual association with the accomplished inhabitants of Moorish Spain and the shrewd and adventurous traders of the Byzantine Empire. He had inherited the lofty stature of his ancestors, their enormous strength and powers of endurance, their contempt of danger, their barbarity in the treatment of a vanquished foe. Attracted to Italy by the accounts of pilgrims returning from the Holy Land, the Normans first appear in the history of that country as the mercenaries of those principalities whose close proximity to each other kept them in a condition of perpetual hostility. The intrepidity and military experience of the strangers were soon recognized as commodities of great value by the rulers of such states as Capua, Beneventum, and Salerno. From a subordinate position, their audacity and their courage soon raised them to a political equality with their former masters. They acquired territorial possessions, built castles, and plundered their neighbors with equal profit and even greater facility than did the Lombard barons, themselves descended from a race of freebooters. They figured alternately as the allies and the adversaries of both Greeks and Moslems, as the dictates of prudence or the prospect of gain suggested. Before the middle of the eleventh century they had become an important factor in the politics of the Italian Peninsula, where their ambition caused their friendship and their enmity to be regarded with almost equal fear and suspicion. Of all the Norman knights who had been induced by the hope of fame and fortune to cast their lot in Southern Italy, none ranked so high for chivalrous grace and martial prowess as the six members of the noble house of De Hauteville. Without resources save their weapons and their valor, they soon attained to high distinction in those communities of adventurers whose existence depended on the sword. They cemented their power by matrimonial alliances with the daughters of local chieftains of large possessions and distinguished lineage; in more than one instance at the expense of conjugal attachments contracted years before during the affectionate enthusiasm of youth. Their influence soon became paramount in the councils of the Christians, as their pennons were ever foremost in the line of battle. The youngest of these bold champions was called Roger, a name destined to great and enduring renown in the crusading wars of Europe and Asia.

Encouraged by the dissensions of the Moors, certain citizens of Messina, whose vicinity to the main-land afforded its inhabitants frequent opportunities of communication with the Italian princes, formed the design of inviting the Normans to undertake the conquest of the island. Their plans had hardly been unfolded to Count Roger, when Ibn-Thimna, the fugitive Emir, sought his aid, with the fallacious hope that the efforts of the Christians might contribute to his restoration to the throne. The attempt was resolved upon; the assistance of Robert, Duke of Calabria, was secured, and, in the spring of 1061, Roger, with a small detachment of soldiers, crossed the Strait by night, and at daybreak, through the timely assistance of the conspirators, was introduced into the fortifications of Messina. The enterprise so auspiciously begun was prosecuted with the most flattering prospects of ultimate success. Robert was soon enabled to strengthen the garrison of Messina with a considerable force; many Christian settlements revolted, others secretly sent assurances of sympathy and co-operation; the predatory expeditions of the adventurers returned with valuable spoil, and, finally, a decisive victory obtained near Castrogiovanni placed the affairs of the invaders on a substantial footing and acquainted the Moslems with the formidable character of the enemy. The success of the Normans was rapid and decisive. Trani was delivered up by its inhabitants, weary of Moslem oppression and anarchy. Bari was taken after an obstinate defence. The Saracens now experienced in their turn the evils with which they had visited the unhappy Sicilians in the early times of the conquest. Their harvests were swept away. Their vineyards were uprooted. The peasant feared to venture beyond the walls of fortified places, and was hardly secure anywhere, for in every city Greek conspirators maintained secret and treasonable communication with the enemy. No hamlet, however sequestered, was exempt from the rapacity of the Norman freebooter, who pushed his incursions to the very environs of Palermo. In 1071 the siege of that city was undertaken. The forces of the invaders, which had received accessions from almost every country of Europe, were sufficiently numerous to invest the Moslem capital by land and sea. The stubborn resistance maintained by the garrison might have disheartened the assailants had it not been for the treachery of Christian soldiers serving under the Saracen banner. Notice was conveyed to the besiegers that a weak point existed in a certain part of the citadel. To divert the attention of the Moslems, the city was assailed on the eastern side as well as from the harbor, while the Duke, at the head of a picked body of men, scaled with little opposition the western walls of the citadel, which had been indicated as the vulnerable point by the traitors in the Moorish service. Astounded by the sudden appearance of the enemy in their rear, the Moors retired in disorder to the suburbs, and the next day surrendered under honorable conditions which guaranteed enjoyment of their laws and their religion.

The capture of Palermo, after a siege of only five months, reflected great distinction on the Norman arms. Every circumstance conspired to facilitate their triumph. Although the entire force of the besiegers could not have exceeded ten thousand, they were all veterans, whose courage had been tested in many a campaign and foray. The Saracen capital had long been distracted by faction, by religious schism, by civil war. Its population had been greatly diminished from these causes, and even the imminent danger of conquest failed to reconcile the partisans of the hostile sects and tribes, who cared less for the prosperity of their country than for the maintenance of their doctrines and the prosecution of their hereditary enmities. The most important auxiliaries of the invaders, however, were the Christian tributaries. Harassed by the persecution of successive usurpers, insecure in person and property, subject to the capricious tyranny of a despotism which, without warning, not infrequently consigned their bodies to the dungeon and their daughters to the seraglio, these unfortunate vassals were prepared to further any undertaking which might deliver them from the intolerable oppression under which they groaned.

The progress of the Normans was henceforth unimpeded by organized resistance. Trapani, Taormina, Syracuse, were carried by storm. Castrogiovanni was surrendered by its governor, who apostatized to the Christian faith. In 1091 the cities of Butera and Noto, the last possessions of the Moslems in the island, were transferred by peaceful negotiation to the Normans, who now became the masters of Sicily. Coincident with the extensive territorial acquisitions resulting from the conquest, the feudal system was instituted, and fiefs were bestowed on those officers of the invading army whose services merited such a recompense and whose fidelity could be depended upon by the lords of the house of De Hauteville who assumed the suzerainty. The Moors, assured of the possession of their rights, passed quietly from anarchy and riot to the restraints and subordination of feudal dependence. With greater facility than would have been conjectured from their customs and antecedents, they adapted themselves to the unfamiliar conditions by which they were surrounded. As had been the case with the Greeks, they intermarried with their conquerors. They served with gallantry and distinction in the Norman armies. Their mercenaries, under the leadership of Christian nobles, were regarded with greater dread than when, under their own commanders, they had menaced the existence of the Papacy and the security of Rome. In many ways their superior civilization made its influence felt in the life and habits of the semi-barbarians of the West. The manners of the latter became more polished, their intercourse with equals less offensively rude, their treatment of inferiors less tyrannical and cruel. The Arab physician, who, with the Jew, monopolized the medical learning of his time, enjoyed the confidence and respect of the Norman princes. The Arab statesman and financier both stood high in their favor, and received the most substantial and flattering marks of their esteem. The luxurious customs of the Moors—permitted by their creed but forbidden by the strict morality of Christian discipline—commended themselves with peculiar zest to the lax principles and unrestrained passions of the Norman chivalry. The latter practised polygamy upon a scale fully as extensive as that of their infidel predecessors, established harems, and maintained troops of eunuchs. Beautiful concubines, arrayed, some in Christian, others in Moorish garb, and attended by trains of female slaves whose charms rivalled those of their mistresses, sauntered daily through the delightful promenades of Syracuse and Palermo. In vain the anathemas of the Holy See were launched against the nominal champions of the Faith who, with Oriental sensuality and magnificence, held their courts in the Sicilian capitals. The corruption of the Vatican was too familiar to all who had served in the campaigns of Italy for the denunciation of the Pope to arouse any other feelings than those of ridicule and contempt. Even the clergy became infected through the contagious example of their temporal rulers; the amiable vices so reprobated by the Holy Father were scarcely concealed by the inferior ecclesiastics, while the episcopal palaces of the larger cities exhibited scenes more appropriate to the secret precincts of a Moorish harem than to the homes of the most exalted dignitaries of the Sicilian Church. During the Saracen occupation of Sicily the country was probably more thickly populated and was certainly subject to a more thorough system of tillage than it had been while under the control of any other nation. It contained eighteen cities and hundreds of towns, villages, and hamlets. In all there were more than a thousand centres of population throughout the island, which did not include the smaller settlements. The tireless industry of the Moor developed to the highest degree its wonderful natural resources. Almost every grain and fruit known to the agriculturist flourished on the slopes of the gentle eminences which lined its coast or in the fertile depths of the sheltered valleys. Its mountain sides were covered with forests of chestnut, pine, and cedar, invaluable for ship-building purposes. The papyrus, identical with the famous plant of Egypt, and found nowhere else in Europe, grew wild in its marshes. The level lands of the South were occupied by endless groves of palms and oranges. Cotton, sugar-cane, and flax were cultivated with great success. Olives constituted one of the staple crops of the country. The culture of silk was introduced into Sicily some years before it became known to the Moors of Spain, and extensive plantations of mulberries were maintained for the sustenance of that useful insect whose industry, in every country propitious to its growth, has been forced to contribute to the luxury and vanity of man. The products of the Sicilian wine-press were famous among the bacchanalian poets of the court of Palermo, who had long since forgotten the prohibitory mandate of the Prophet. The most improved methods of cultivation, tested by the experience of ages, were adopted to aid the fertility of the soil and the mildness of the climate. The irrigating system in use was modelled after those of Persia and Egypt. The supply of water seems to have been abundant and of the purest quality, but, through the ignorance of succeeding generations, which destroyed the forests, extensive tracts, once verdant as a garden and traversed by navigable streams, have been changed into arid plains barren of all vegetation and seamed with dry and rocky ravines.

The mineral resources of Sicily were of remarkable richness and variety. Gold and silver were found in considerable quantities. There were mines of lead, iron, quicksilver, copper, antimony. Volcanic products, such as vitriol, sal-ammoniac, naphtha, pitch, and sulphur, were obtained with trifling labor. The deposits of rock-salt and alum, of inexhaustible extent and unusual purity, were of themselves sufficient, if properly developed, to insure the prosperity of any nation. The fine jaspers and marbles of the Sicilian quarries were well known to the builders of antiquity, and the Moorish architects were not slow to recognize their excellence and to employ them in the construction of the palaces with which the Arab nobles embellished the suburbs of the great centres of commerce and power. The sunny slopes of the hills furnished abundant pasturage for droves of cattle and flocks of goats and sheep. The horses of Italy were renowned for their fleetness and symmetry. Among the pursuits of the Saracen colonists apiculture was not neglected, and honey was exported in quantities to Italy and other countries of Christian Europe. But meagre accounts of the manufactures and trade of Moorish Sicily have been transmitted to posterity. It is well known, however, that commercial relations existed between the principal ports of the island and the maritime nations of the Mediterranean. The merchantmen of its thriving seaports exchanged the products of the East and West in the harbors of Malaga, Alexandria, Constantinople. No people surpassed the Sicilians in the delicacy and beauty of their fabrics, and the silks of Palermo, interwoven with texts and devices in gold, were highly esteemed, and much sought after by the luxurious potentates and nobles of the Mohammedan world.

Of all the imposing palaces, baths, and mosques which once adorned the Moorish cities of the island, unhappily not a vestige now remains. Nothing but a few scattered and broken inscriptions has survived the violence of mediæval times, to attest the pomp and splendor of the Sicilian emirs. The architecture of no other people has suffered such complete and systematic annihilation. Two or three structures, erected during the rule of the Norman princes, but whose proportions and ornamentation, while remarkable, yet disclose unmistakably the decadence of architectural skill, are all we have upon which to found an opinion of the magnificence of Mohammedan Palermo.

It must not be forgotten that the advances of the Sicilian Moslems in the arts of peace were made under the most discouraging circumstances. War was the normal state of the country from the invasion by Asad-Ibn-Forat to the surrender of the last castle to the Normans. When the Saracens were not engaged in hostilities with the Christians, they amused themselves by cutting each other’s throats. In every instance, whether plundered by Greeks or persecuted by Moslems of an unfriendly sect, the husbandman and the merchant were always the sufferers. That agriculture and commerce could exist at all under such difficulties may well awaken surprise; that a civilization superior to that of any state of Christian Europe should have been developed and sustained in spite of these obstacles is an anomaly without precedent in the history of nations.

The administration of the laws by the dominant race was, of course, based upon the principles of Moslem jurisprudence. It was not unusual, however, for these laws to be either evaded or executed with a severity never contemplated by their author. Constant familiarity with bloodshed and habitual defiance of their authority by the populace had brutalized the rulers of Sicily. They affected a reserve characteristic of the worst forms of Oriental despotism. Their features were unknown to the great body of their subjects. From motives of caution, or to enhance the mysterious dignity investing their office, they gave audience and dispensed justice from behind a curtain which entirely concealed the throne. Like the most degenerate of the Persian Fatimites, they travelled unseen in litters, attended by the effeminate ministers of their vices. The few who attained to military distinction by active operations in the field died of disease; a large proportion of those who intrusted the conduct of campaigns to subordinates perished by the hand of the assassin.

In no part of the domain of Islam was the population of a more diversified character than in Sicily. Discord and disunion were the inevitable results of its composition. In the face of an enemy, the valor of its warriors was never questioned. In the excitement of a revolution, no man was safe from the dagger of his friend. Individuals deriving their origin from so many different countries naturally brought with them the experience, the arts, the industry, the accomplishments, the vices, of their respective nations. Under a dynasty of independent and resolute princes able to repress the outbreaks of tribal discord, Sicily would undoubtedly have risen to the most exalted rank in the scale of civilization. As it was, with all her serious impediments to progress, she had no rival excepting Spain among the kingdoms of Europe. Her armies wrested from the Byzantine Emperor one of the most valuable provinces of his dominions. Her navy for a considerable period enjoyed the maritime superiority of both the Adriatic and the Mediterranean. The country, in spite of civil commotion and the consequent insecurity, was densely populated. In 938 the inhabitants of the valley of Mazara alone amounted to two million,—half of whom were Moslems. The elegant luxury of Palermo surpassed in taste while it equalled in splendor the barbaric pomp of Constantinople. The domestic and social conditions prevailing in Germany, Italy, France, and England were incomparably inferior in all the qualities by which the advancement and happiness of nations are promoted to those, defective as they were, by which society in Moorish Sicily was organized and controlled. In the province of letters the Sicilian Moslems seem to have merited distinction not inferior to that achieved by their Andalusian brethren. A long catalogue of authors, whose compositions, for the most part, unhappily have perished, indicate the esteem in which literature was held, as well as the prodigal liberality by which the efforts of its professors were rewarded.

The influence of Sicilian civilization upon the Normans exhibits the counterpart of that exercised by the decaying genius of Rome upon the fierce and untutored barbarians. But the minds of the former were far better fitted to receive the impressions imparted by association and example than were those of the followers of Alaric and Alboin. They were somewhat accustomed to the conveniences and the luxuries of life, and not entirely ignorant of the amenities of social intercourse. They had travelled far and had insensibly made comparisons between the usages of many nations. The architectural remains of the mighty empire of the Cæsars had awakened their admiration. They were familiar with the defaced, but still awe-inspiring, monuments of Roman grandeur. Tradition, embellished with a thousand enchanting legends, had brought before them visions of the majesty and glory of the greatest powers of the ancient world. Intimate contact with the Greek colonists of Southern Italy, who still retained in a measure the graces and the refinement of their ancestors, gave them well-defined ideas of the civilization enjoyed by the original seat of literary superiority, of architectural perfection, of artistic excellence. Thus the Normans were ready, even eager, to receive from their Moorish vassals lessons in those elegant pursuits whose advantages they had long appreciated, but had never enjoyed. The Moslems, as a rule, were granted every courtesy by their Christian neighbors, who quickly recognized their superior intellectual acquirements. They celebrated in public, and without molestation, the festivals of their religion. The rich freely indulged their inclination for splendid attire and imposing retinues. They had their own ministers of justice and of worship, their markets, mosques, and judicial tribunals. The majority of the merchants of Palermo under the Norman domination were Mohammedans.

Reluctant, perhaps unable, to discriminate, the invaders grew corrupt, and the evils characteristic of a sensual and luxurious race were insensibly adopted with the benefits which its culture afforded. After the Norman conquest, the spirit of Moorish civilization still remained paramount. The Saracens formed no unimportant part of the military establishment of their conquerors, maintained both for service and ostentation. At the siege of Amalfi, in 1096, twenty thousand of them served under the Norman standard. In 1113, when Adelaide, mother of Count Roger, went to Ascalon to marry Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, she presented him with a band of Moorish archers splendidly uniformed in scarlet and gold. The forms of government observed by the emirs were retained. Moslem ministers and magistrates directed the administration of the state, regulated the finances, dispensed justice. The Arabic tongue continued to be not only the recognized medium of communication between all classes of society, but the vehicle of public acts and edicts, and the official idiom of the courts of law. Over the gateways of palaces constructed by the princes of the family of De Hauteville are still to be deciphered legends whose sentiment is unmistakably Mohammedan. The Norman coins were stamped with sentences from the Koran and with the date of the Hegira. The dress, the manners, the etiquette of public audiences, the habits of private intercourse, became essentially Oriental. The umbrella, an emblem of royalty borrowed from the Fatimites of Egypt, was borne over the heads of the Norman kings on occasions of ceremony. The robes of distinguished personages were interwoven with Arabic texts, whose characters and whose significance excited the pious horror of the orthodox. The regulation of the royal household was modelled after that of the emirate. The very titles of the public officials were Arabic. The education of youth was committed without reserve to learned doctors of the Mussulman or the Hebrew faith. In some of the harems of the Norman lords the inmates were all Mohammedans; in those of others, Christian damsels shared the favor and the affection of the licentious noble. No restrictions were imposed upon the religious prejudices of either, and it is related that the Christians, convinced by the arguments or the fascinations of their infidel associates, not infrequently became proselytes to the doctrines of Islam. Under the enlightened government of the Normans, persecution was unknown. Indeed, the vanquished people were regarded with such partiality that Count Roger absolutely forbade that any Moslem should, even by the most gentle means, be converted to Christianity. The clergy, unable to resist the prevailing influence, suffered their sacred edifices to be adorned with sentences from the Koran, whose monotheistic tendency accorded ill with the accepted maxims of patristic theology and the infallible edicts of ecclesiastical councils. From the balcony of the minaret and the tower of the cathedral the voice of the muezzin or the pealing of the bell called the pious to worship, and from the altars of every community arose in unison the praise of Allah and the invocation of the Triune God.

The traveller Ibn-Haukal and the geographer Edrisi have left us interesting and lively descriptions of the great Moslem cities of Sicily under Norman rule. Of these Palermo easily took precedence, not only on account of its being the metropolis, but by reason of the superior wealth, intelligence, and culture of its citizens. Of the number of its inhabitants no data have survived to enable us to form an approximate computation. They must have amounted, however, to several hundred thousand, as five hundred mosques were required for the worship of the Mussulmans, and, as a rule, the Christian population in every community equalled, if it did not exceed, that of the sectaries of Islam. Many of these structures were superb temples, whose costly decorations attested the liberality of the prince or the devotion of the multitude. Some were of vast dimensions; the largest could accommodate with ease seven thousand worshippers. The vanity of private individuals, whose wealth permitted them to indulge their taste for ostentation and offer an exhibition of zeal not always above suspicion, possessed mosques of their own, from which all were excluded save their own relatives, dependents, vassals, and slaves. But not alone in their places of worship did the prodigal and luxurious citizens of Palermo emulate the magnificence of their neighbors. The palaces of the rich and the great were unsurpassed by those of any Moslem capital excepting Cordova. The skill and delicacy of the labor expended upon them corresponded with the rare and precious character of the materials of which they were composed. The walls were encased with variegated marbles, the floors were formed of mosaic, the ceilings exhibited a labyrinth of geometric tracery relieved by brilliant coloring and resplendent with gold. Rows of aromatic shrubs filled the court-yards with their fragrance. The predilection of the Arab for water—the greatest treasure of the Desert—was everywhere manifested. Aqueducts composed of tiers of towering arches skirted the mountains in all directions. Canals traversed the plantations and gardens of the extensive suburbs. Fountains of classic design cooled the air of parks and promenades or quenched the thirst of the tired and dusty caravan. The city, from east to west, was intersected by the market-place, a wide street paved with hewn-stone and lined with shops filled with the most valuable commodities known to the commerce of the age. The central or older portion of the city was the seat of the court and the residence of the monarch. The suburbs almost entirely surrounded it, and contained the quays, the warehouses, the markets, the caravansaries, necessary to the traffic of a great maritime emporium. Like Cordova, Palermo was divided into five separate quarters, each of which was isolated from the others when the gates were closed. The houses were of blocks of polished stone put together with the greatest accuracy, the streets were lighted, the mansions of commanding height and symmetrical proportions, the habitations of the poor more commodious than the dwellings of many of the wealthy burghers of Paris and London. In the time of Ibn-Jubair, who visited Palermo during the reign of William the Good, the costumes and the manners of the Christians were not distinguishable from those of their Moslem vassals. The ladies wore veils of different colors and garments of mingled silk and gold. Dainty slippers, embroidered in arabesques with the precious metals, protected their tiny feet, jewelled ornaments of exquisite patterns glittered upon their bosoms, and the aroma of costly essences which enveloped them revealed their passionate love of perfumes. The fusion of races was nowhere so apparent or so remarkable as in the unrestricted intimacy maintained, and in the refined courtesies reciprocated by the once hostile nationalities which composed the population of the Norman capital. The amenities of social intercourse required the practice of politeness and of self-restraint even among enemies. In the time of William the Good cruelty and rapine were stigmatized as Teutonic vices.

The noble and elevating pursuits of science were not neglected under the Moors of Sicily and their intelligent and progressive conquerors, the Norman princes. Geography, astronomy, chemistry, and medicine were studied with diligence and success. Edrisi, whose descent from the royal dynasty of Fez has been obscured by the eminent reputation he attained as a geographer and a philosopher, made for Roger II. a planisphere which represented at once the surface of the earth and the positions of the heavenly bodies. From the minarets of Palermo, the Arab astronomer observed the motions of the planets, the periodical recurrence of eclipses, the relative positions and general distribution of the stars in space, by the aid of instruments invented on the Guadalquivir and the Tigris, and of tables computed on the plains of Babylon centuries before the Christian era. The Moslem thus consecrated to the prosecution of scientific research the towers of his most sacred temples, at a time when from the cathedrals of Europe doctrines were promulgated which menaced, with the severest penalties that ecclesiastical malignity could devise, every occupation which in any way contributed to the emancipation of reason or the intellectual progress of humanity. Astrology, that delusive study so flattering to the vanity of human nature, and so alluring to the imagination from the preternatural power supposed to be wielded by the charlatans who practised it, too often discredited the results of astronomical investigation; just as the vain and costly pursuit of the philosopher’s stone brought into disrepute at first the pre-eminently useful science of chemistry. The Sicilians were firm believers in the influence exerted by the heavenly bodies upon the actions and the destiny of man. The attempt to extract the precious metals from the most unpromising substances of nature had long engaged the attention of the Arab, and the cities of the island swarmed with impostors who cast horoscopes, interpreted dreams, and predicted future events by pretended communion with the stars, while the fires in the laboratory of the alchemist were maintained at the expense of innumerable dupes of their own credulity, whose hopes were sustained by mystery and fraud, while their purses were being systematically depleted. The superior intelligence of the higher classes afforded no immunity from these popular delusions; the noble embraced their principles with the same confidence and the same avidity as were displayed by the plebeian and the slave. The home of the alchemist was habitually frequented by the highest officials of the court, and the astrologer, with his peculiar garb, his long staff engraved with talismanic signs, his flowing beard, and his air of mysterious assurance, was the most welcome guest in the palaces of Palermo.

The Arabs of Sicily, with their brethren of Spain, owing to their extraordinary and thorough proficiency in medicine and surgery, were the most skilful practitioners in Europe. Their eminence in this profession was, to a large extent, shared by the Jews, who, as a race, were the recipients of royal favor and public confidence under the Norman as well as under the Saracen domination. The peer of the Moslem in every branch of scientific knowledge, the Hebrew brought to the study and application of the principles of the healing art the same keen perception and unerring tact which enabled him in all ages to rise to the most commanding positions in the mercantile world.

In their acquaintance with the mechanical arts the Sicilians were not inferior to their most accomplished contemporaries. Their hydraulic system was provided with all the appliances which had been tested by those nations whose arid soil required the artificial stimulus of irrigation. Their mills dotted the banks of every stream whose current afforded sufficient motive power for the propulsion of a water-wheel. The products of their looms were famous for their exquisite patterns and the fineness of their texture. They seemed to have also excelled in the invention and manufacture of contrivances for the measurement of time. A clepsydra belonging to Roger II. has been commemorated by an inscription which would indicate that it equalled in ingenuity and perfection the famous one presented by Harun-al-Raschid to Charlemagne. The hours were marked off by automatons, which dropped a corresponding number of balls into a metallic basin, a not unworthy predecessor of the modern clock. A considerable number of the astrolabes, which, having fortunately escaped the effects of ecclesiastical fury wreaked upon them as magical instruments and devices of Satan, are now preserved in the museums of Europe, are of undoubted Sicilian origin.

Abu-Layth, an architect and engineer, who had been educated in the schools of Sicily, assisted in the completion of the great mosque of Seville, erected during the twelfth century, and the globes of gilded bronze which crowned the summit of the Giralda, whose extraordinary dimensions and perfect symmetry excited the wonder of all beholders, were cast and raised to their places under his supervision. The superiority of the Sicilian Moslems in the construction and management of military engines has been already referred to in these pages.

The court of Palermo for more than a century was no less distinguished for the literary acquirements of those who, attracted by its reputation and the character of its society, took up their abode in its precincts, than for the scientific studies pursued with such ardor under the patronage of its sovereigns. During the Saracen rule, translations of those classical authors who wrote on philosophy and natural history were made; the perusal of the works of Aristotle, for whose doctrines the Moslems of the Middle Ages evinced such a remarkable predilection, was one of the favorite diversions of the learned; and the poems of Pagan Arabia were recited in the elegant idiom of the Desert, amidst the applause of believer and infidel alike, almost within hearing of the metropolis of Christendom. The prodigious stores of learning accumulated by the philosophers of the Alexandrian school, through the boundless munificence of the Greek dynasty of Egypt, enriched the libraries and cultivated the understanding of the scholars of Sicily. The writings of Hero, of Eratosthenes, of Euclid, and of Ptolemy were familiar to the students in attendance upon the academies and colleges of Palermo and Messina. The Syntaxis, the Geography, and the Optics of the latter have survived, mainly through the instrumentality of the Moors, the indiscriminate destructiveness of the barbarians and the calculating malice of the clergy, to convey to subsequent generations instructive and significant ideas of the philosophical attainments and mathematical knowledge of one of the most accomplished scholars of antiquity. The great work of Edrisi was compiled under the auspices of Roger II. The Arab was peculiarly fitted for the treatment of the comprehensive science of physical and descriptive geography. His information had been largely obtained by practical experience. He had served in campaigns conducted on the frontiers of civilization; in the capacity of a merchant he had traversed with the plodding caravan vast regions diversified with illimitable plains, lofty mountains, noble rivers; as a pilgrim he had performed his devotions at the cradle of the Moslem faith; in the tireless pursuit of learning he had prosecuted his researches over strange countries and among strange peoples; his features and his costume were familiar to the residents of the great European and Asiatic capitals; his peregrinations had extended from the Douro to the Indus, from the shores of the Baltic to the sources of the Nile. Thus endowed with especial qualifications, the Arab geographer was equally at home, whether recounting to a delighted audience the experiences of an extended journey or explaining to an assemblage of students the physical features of the earth and the relative distribution of land and water as depicted on the surface of a terrestrial globe. The work of Edrisi is an imperishable monument to the intelligence, the industry, the criticism, of the compiler, whose studies were confirmed in many instances by personal observation, and the practical value of whose undertaking was established by his scientific attainments as well as by the copious erudition of the illustrious monarch by whose command it originated and was brought to a successful termination.

In the exact sciences the Arabs of Sicily attained to a proficiency unsurpassed by any nation since the glorious days of the Alexandrian Museum, and, in fact, they appropriated and absorbed much of the knowledge bequeathed to posterity by that immortal institution. Their geometers applied that knowledge to the improvement of hydraulic apparatus, to the increase in power and efficiency of military engines, to astronomical observations which facilitated the explorations of the navigator, to a thousand inventions which promoted the convenience and the happiness of domestic life. The leisure of the emirs and of the Norman princes was amused, and the literary ambition of their accomplished courtiers excited, by the recitations of famous bards, who, in a land which still cherished the memory of the incomparable poetic inspiration of Greece and Rome, competed for the applause of an audience in whose eyes ready improvisation and extravagant metaphors were infallible tokens of the highest excellence.

Of such a character were the material civilization, the scientific achievements, the intellectual culture of Moorish and Norman Sicily. Its glories have long since departed. Of the hundreds of palaces and mosques whose majestic and elegant proportions were the pride of the Moslem cities, not one has escaped the destructive touch of plebeian vandalism and ecclesiastical hatred. The Sicilian population, from being one of the most cultivated, has degenerated into the most ignorant of Catholic Europe. The suburbs of Palermo, once the abode of every science and of every art, are now so infested with brigands that they cannot be traversed in safety by the traveller without the protection of an armed guard. For the medical experience and skilful offices of the surgeon have been substituted arduous penance and the application of suspicious, often spurious relics. Intellectual liberty and religious toleration have been supplanted by the repression of thought, by the discouragement of every noble impulse, by the tyranny of a superstition which degrades the mind and enfeebles every aspiration which can promote the material welfare of humanity.

The enterprising spirit of the Arabs which induced them to extend their conquests to all accessible points on the Mediterranean early suggested the occupation of the largest islands of that sea, whose importance as naval stations whence invading armies might be transported into Europe, and as bases for the equipment of piratical undertakings, was fully recognized by every nation. The Balearic Isles were a dependency of the khalifate of Cordova. They paid tribute to its sovereigns like other provinces of the empire, furnished troops for its armies, participated largely in its civilization, and, fortunate in their isolation, survived for nearly two centuries its overthrow. Sardinia, invaded by Musa in the first years of the eighth century, was never completely subjugated by the Saracens. The mountainous and barren interior of that island, sparsely inhabited by a barbarous and poverty-stricken peasantry, repelled them from a conquest whose doubtful advantages could not possibly compensate for the toil and danger necessary to secure it, and the coast with its harbors seemed the only territory worthy of their attention. For the space of seventy years the Moors retained a precarious foothold on the shores of that island, and the possession of a few insignificant seaports was disputed by the Franks and Italians with a pertinacity not unworthy of a contest involving the fate of an extensive kingdom.

In 722 the Saracens, having become familiar with the extensive traffic in relics carried on by the Catholic clergy and determined to turn to their own profit the superstitious credulity of the devout, entered into negotiations with Liutprand, King of the Lombards, for the sale of the body of St. Augustine, which had reposed in peace for two hundred years in the metropolitan church of Cagliari. The transaction was betrayed by the arrival of the messengers of Liutprand, and the people, incited by the monks, rose in revolt. An unsuccessful attempt was made to rescue the ashes of the saint, the Arab garrison was called out to quell the tumult, and seven monks paid the extreme penalty of their zeal, and perhaps not wholly disinterested piety. In view of the precious character of these mementos and of the difficulties attending their transfer, the Arabs exacted, in addition to the price already agreed upon, the payment of three pounds of gold and twelve of silver; an amount which indicates the immense value of the original ransom. The grief of the devout inhabitants of Cagliari on account of their loss was somewhat alleviated by the remembrance that the vestments which had been torn from the bones of the saint in the struggle still remained in their hands, and the innumerable miracles wrought by these tattered garments, confirmed by the highest ecclesiastical authority, long attested the celestial influence and supernatural virtues possessed by the sacred relics of the deceased Bishop of Hippo.

Crete, captured by refugees from Spain, who, exiled from that country for treason during the reign of Al-Hakem I., were subsequently driven from Alexandria by the infuriated populace, whose hospitality they had abused, remained in the hands of the Moslems until 961, when it was reconquered by the Greeks. The Spanish Arabs about the year 806 descended upon the coast of Corsica. The timely aid of King Pepin prevented the immediate loss of that island, which, however, was occupied by the Saracens in 810. The despairing Corsicans, who had betaken themselves to the mountain solitudes, solicited the aid of Charlemagne, who sent a powerful fleet to their relief. The Moslems, after a series of sanguinary engagements, were absolutely exterminated by the ferocious warriors of the West; but the unfortunate Corsicans fared little better than their enemies, for it is stated by respectable authority that nine-tenths of the population perished within less than three years from the effects of the Saracen invasion. The shores of the island are still covered with ruins of extensive towns and cities dating from that period, indicating the former prosperity of the inhabitants, as well as the frightful calamities which they must have endured at the hands of the truculent adventurers of Spain and Africa.

Malta, acknowledged in the Middle Ages, as now, to be the key of the Eastern Mediterranean, was for two hundred and twenty years an important dependency of the Sicilian Emirate. Taken by the Moslems in 870, it was occupied by the Norman troops, led by Count Roger in person, in 1090. The subjects of the Greek Emperor were put to death or enslaved, but for the native Maltese the Arabs manifested an unusual partiality. Their lot was far more tolerable than that of the tributary Christians of Sicily, their religion was unmolested, their taxes were moderate, the privileges conceded to them more favorable than those ordinarily accorded to infidels. The inhabitants of all these islands, except Sicily, which made war upon an extensive scale, subsisted by piratical depredations and by trade in slaves, in which reprehensible practices the Moors of Malta early obtained an undisputed and infamous pre-eminence.

In this chapter has been traced an incomplete outline of the origin, progress, and decline of the Moslem domination in Sicily, a subject which, if elaborated, would embrace many volumes. From this imperfect sketch, however, the reader may form an idea of a civilization centuries in advance of that of any contemporaneous people, with the single exception of the Spanish Arabs; a civilization which, fostered and perpetuated under the brilliant reign of the Emperor Frederick II., effected such a memorable revolution in the ideas and opinions entertained as indisputably correct by the devout and the credulous of many preceding ages.

CHAPTER XVI
THE PRINCIPALITIES OF MOORISH SPAIN
1012–1044

Immobility of the African Race—Its Hostility to Civilization—Its Pernicious Influence on the Politics of the Western Khalifate—Character of Suleyman—Invasion of Ali—He ascends the Throne—His Tyranny—He is assassinated—Abd-al-Rahman IV. succeeds Him—Yahya—Abd-al-Rahman V.—Mohammed—Hischem III.—Organization of the Council of State—Ibn-Djahwar, the Minister—His Talents and Power—Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, Kadi of Seville—Berber Conspiracy—The Impostor Khalaf is raised to the Throne as Hischem II.—Almeria—The Vizier Ibn-Abbas—Influence of the Jews at Granada—The Rabbi Samuel—Rivalry of Granada and Almeria—Abu-al-Fotuh—Motadhid ascends the Throne of Seville—His Cruel and Dissolute Character—His Collection of Skulls—Badis, King of Granada—-Increasing Power of Castile—Valencia and Malaga—Atrocities of the Christians at Barbastro.

From the earliest period mentioned in history, as has been remarked in a previous chapter, the spirit of the various tribes inhabiting the great continent of Africa has been constantly hostile to human progress. The ignorance, cruelty, and depravity of those nations whose territory did not touch the shores of the Mediterranean have always seemed impregnable to the beneficent and ordinarily irresistible influences of civilization. It is true that the northern extremity of that continent has been the seat of powerful empires, of great cities, of rich and enterprising centres of commercial activity. But this superior culture, confined to a narrow strip whose southern boundary was only a few days’ journey from the coast, was without exception exotic. The origin of the Egyptians, lost in the depths of a remote and unknown antiquity, has never been conclusively established. But it is almost certain that it was not African. The ethnical peculiarities which formerly distinguished, and are still noticeable in, the inhabitants of the Valley of the Nile had nothing in common with the physical and mental characteristics of surrounding nations. The rigid seclusion that, as a principle of national policy, prevailed in ancient Egypt from time immemorial sufficiently precludes the existence of extraneous influence. Subsequently, under the enlightened empire of the Ptolemies, while the form of government and the religious ceremonial of ancient times were preserved, the traditions of the schools and the social atmosphere which surrounded the splendid court of Alexandria were entirely Grecian. Carthage was a Phœnician colony. The instincts of its citizens, their energy, their duplicity, their luxury, their vices, their political organization, their maritime enterprise, their architecture, and their gods were Tyrian, and consequently Asiatic. The prosperity enjoyed by the Latin colonies established after the Punic Wars, when the countries situated on the southern shores of the Mediterranean shared with Egypt the burden of providing sustenance for the slothful and turbulent populace of Italy, was due to the example, the policy, the institutions of Rome. The empire of the Edrisites, the magnificence of Fez and Kairoan, the wonderful cultivation of the Desert, the subjugation and control of the fierce tribesmen of the Atlas, were the work of princes of Arab blood. In all these glories of commerce, art, and opulence the Africans had no share. They served in the armies of the conqueror, but without loyalty, honor, or gratitude. Their insubordination wrought far greater injury to the cause of good government than their efforts promoted its advancement. They zealously preserved their malign and destructive instincts in the midst of the most refined and intellectual society of the age. Incapable of profiting by the civilization by which they were surrounded, their only aim seemed to be the obliteration of those evidences of mental superiority which they could neither appreciate nor enjoy. Nor have the benevolent and humanizing influences of the nineteenth century been able to remove the incorrigible barbarism of the African. The tribes of the Sahara are no further advanced in the arts of peace than when they yielded a sullen and reluctant obedience to the military genius of Musa. The lives of well-meaning sentimentalists have been vainly sacrificed to ameliorate the debased condition of the Negro. Even with the example of the most polished nations of modern times before him, the advantages of education, rare opportunities for the accumulation of wealth, intimacy with the learned, participation in government, social privileges—all these blessings have served only to confirm and emphasize the inherent and irredeemable stupidity, malice, and bestiality of his nature,—characteristics transmitted by a savage, perhaps by a simian ancestry. Association with the Romans—degenerate as they had become since the glorious days of the Republic and the Empire—aroused in the minds of the Goth and the Vandal aspirations to, at least in some degree, imitate that excellence which made their own deficiencies the more conspicuous. They gradually discarded their savage customs. They adopted the salutary institutions of the vanquished. They emulated—often with little success, but with the most praiseworthy intentions—the heroic virtues of antiquity. By this means the immortal genius of Roman civilization in a measure survived, to exert its refining power upon subsequent ages. Not so, however, with the African. His proximity to and intercourse with the highly cultured nations of Europe produced no improvement in his domestic life, no stimulation of his intellectual faculties, no mitigation of his brutal and ferocious nature. He was the principal means by which the Ommeyade empire was both founded and annihilated. His native rudeness and repugnance to discipline were manifested even before the termination of the Conquest. From the hordes of the Atlas and the Sahara were recruited the ruthless soldiery by whom the disturbances that distracted the emirate were perpetuated. They formed an important but treacherous contingent of the armies of the khalifate. While nominally adherents of the Mohammedan faith, they continued to observe those idolatrous ceremonies which had provoked the maledictions of the Prophet. Obedience to the sovereign was always subordinated to reverence for the chieftain. They maintained under the most adverse circumstances the primitive traditions of their race. Their camp was the daily scene of savage rites, of the practice of divination, witchcraft, sorcery, and magic. In their civil organization, the patriarchal simplicity of the Desert prevailed, their military evolutions were the clamorous and irregular demonstrations of brave but undisciplined barbarians. Their overpowering impulse was that of indiscriminating destruction. They viewed with stolid indifference the incomparable monuments of Saracen culture. The most exquisite works of art, in whose fabrication was exhausted the skill of the goldsmith and the enameler, were broken and melted for the sake of the precious metals they contained. The Berber was the very embodiment of cruelty, perfidy, disorganization, and ruin. In comparison with his boundless capacity for mischief, all the destructive agencies exerted by the hostile races composing the population of the Western Khalifate were insignificant. The inexhaustible numbers of the tribes of Numidia and Mauritania, whence were drawn alike the instruments of regal tyranny and of servile revolution, their prowess, their indomitable ferocity, their impetuous ardor, the persistence of their Pagan ideas and their social customs, rendered them most formidable impediments of civilization. To the incessant immigration from Africa, to the enrolment of Berber mercenaries in the armies of Mohammedan Spain, to the impolitic appeals for aid to the semi-barbarian princes of Al-Maghreb, are to be attributed far more than to the rivalry of Arab tribes or to the inherent defects of the Moslem constitution—serious as these undoubtedly were—the succession of disasters which overtook the empire of the Ommeyades, and the unspeakable crimes which stain the Moorish annals of the eleventh century, whose deplorable consequences were felt to the remotest corners of the Peninsula.

I have been led to the consideration of the topic discussed in the preceding pages by reason of the prominent part assumed by the African tribes during the closing years of the Moslem domination in Spain. While an apparent digression, it is in fact inseparable from a complete account of the events transpiring in the dominions once embraced by the khalifate of Cordova. The relations of Africa and Mussulman Europe had long been intimate. The jealousies of ambition and sovereignty had, except in infrequent and isolated cases, been subordinated to the offices of mutual kindness and friendship. No serious acts of hostility had as yet been permitted to interrupt the cordial intercourse which—facilitated by the short distance separating the two continents—existed between nations acknowledging, at least in form, the same religion and governed by similar laws. Wealthy traders maintained commercial establishments at the same time in Almeria and Kairoan. The sons of sheiks of the Desert rose to high commands under the famous princes of the House of Ommeyah. The negro slaves of the Soudan were repeatedly chosen to guard the sacred person of the monarch. The erudition of the philosophers of Cordova had been exhibited to the astonishment, if not to the approbation, of the fanatical sectaries of Fez. Powerful princes of Mauritania had more than once rendered homage and paid tribute to the rulers of the mighty Khalifate of the West. They had submitted with a feeling of pride to the supremacy of one of the most renowned of those rulers, for they remembered that he was popularly reputed to be of the same origin and of kindred blood. During the administration of Al-Mansur, no African prince would have cherished the apparently chimerical hope that his dynasty was destined to influence, in a decisive way, the future of the Peninsula. The death of that great commander, who left no worthy successor, encouraged the aspirations of every ambitious chieftain to plunge the country into anarchy, a condition from which he might possibly emerge with the lion’s share of power and plunder. In less than forty years the Berbers obtained control of the most valuable portion of the rich inheritance of the Moslems of Spain; in less than a century and a half the magnificent empire of the Ommeyades, whose civilization had been the marvel of the age, its cities sacked and demolished, its fertile fields laid waste, its commerce annihilated, its industrious and thriving population massacred or condemned to painful servitude, had descended, from the exalted rank of a monarchy whose name was mentioned with respect and fear by the most distant and inaccessible nations, to the humiliating position of a dependency of the barbarous and illiterate sultans of Africa.

The jurisdiction of the self-designated Khalif Suleyman, who, as the head of the Berber faction, had acquired an appearance of regal authority by a frightful expenditure of blood, was confined to a circumscribed extent of territory including only five populous cities, of which Cordova, whose possession implied the prestige and power of an imperial title, was, of course, the most important. At the first appearance of national discord consequent on the dismemberment of the khalifate, the military commanders who occupied the strongest fortresses proclaimed their neutrality or independence. The Eastern provinces of the Peninsula, whose territory had hitherto escaped the calamities which had so seriously afflicted the less fortunate regions of the West, preserved, by the freedom of their ports, the enterprise of their merchants, and the unmolested industry of their laborers, a prosperity of diminished extent and uncertain duration, but one which contrasted vividly with the miserable condition of the once flourishing centres of trade and agriculture, in happier days the pride of beautiful Andalusia. Here the Slave officers appointed under the nominal authority of the royal puppet, Hischem II., held their courts and displayed on a limited theatre all the luxurious magnificence and tyrannical caprices of Asiatic despotism. In the North, where the adherents of the Amirides abounded, the Berber princes of Saragossa and Toledo maintained an appearance of barbaric pomp and martial rivalry. From the latter, who, like the Slaves, had asserted their independence, Suleyman, although his troops were allied to their subjects by the closest bonds of nationality and relationship, could expect no support. He was therefore compelled to rely entirely upon his army, composed of soldiers of fortune, whose fidelity was wholly dependent on the willingness of their general to indulge their mutinous instincts and their love of rapine. Of these mercenaries, who, half Pagan and half Christian, served with singular inconsistency under the standard of a Moslem prince against sectaries of his own religion, the bitter enemies of both, the Berbers were the controlling element. They were regarded by the mass of the population of Moorish Spain, and especially by the Arabs of noble blood, with peculiar execration. The fact that under the very shadow of the noble mosques of the Andalusian capital they habitually practised heathen rites denounced by the Koran and abhorred by every Mussulman was notorious. The rich and flexible idiom of the Peninsula, the pride of the Arab, the language spoken by the Prophet, the medium by which the learning of the scholars of the Moslem world had been communicated and preserved, was wholly unknown to them. Their uncouth manners and insolent bearing excited the disgust of a people proverbial for their native refinement and dignified courtesy. Every city, every hamlet, every plantation, bore ineffaceable marks of the blind ferocity of these detested foreigners. They had sacked the splendid metropolis of the West. They had transformed the unrivalled palace and suburb of Medina-al-Zahrâ into a heap of blackened ruins. Their violence had made of the most fertile portions of Andalusia an uninhabited and gloomy solitude. The towns swarmed with Berber robbers, who pursued their nefarious calling almost without hinderance; the country was unsafe on account of the organized bands of Berber outlaws that infested the highways. Crime of every description enjoyed immunity through the corrupt partnership of its perpetrators with the authorities, who greedily shared their booty. The confiscated spoils of noble families that traced their ancestry to the Companions of the Prophet were flaunted with the shameless impudence of legalized brigandage and irresponsible power in the faces of their former owners now reduced to penury. The beautiful wives and daughters of the Arab aristocracy were dragged from their homes to pine in the harems of brutal and half-savage Berber chieftains. The African prejudice against learning had caused the extermination of the philosophers of Cordova,—a deed whose atrocity was aggravated by the fact that the victims were non-combatants, a class protected by the soldiery of every generous and self-respecting nation. Not without cause did the poet lament that the wrath of Allah had unchained a legion of demons to afflict with unspeakable misery the imperial cities adorned with the triumphs of the august line of the Ommeyades.

The sovereign of these oppressors, through the circumstances of his position, had become a cruel tyrant. By nature he was inclined to peace. When untrammelled by the baneful associations which had corrupted his mind, and through whose influence he had risen to power, he exhibited the disposition of a generous and enlightened ruler. He strictly observed the principles of humanity and justice. His decisions as a magistrate were characterized by a spirit of impartial equity. His temper was mild. He was a friend of letters, and disclosed in the poetic efforts attributed to him ability of no mean order. His greatest delight was in the familiar conversation of scholars, whose talents he appreciated and whose tastes he encouraged. He availed himself of every resource at his command to restore tranquillity and confidence in the communities terrorized by the excesses of his followers. It was only when the interests of the latter were directly involved that he remembered the instruments of his greatness, and sanctioned crimes that have left an indelible blot upon his name.

In spite of the pretensions of Suleyman and his occupation of the throne of the khalifs, the khotba, or public prayer, for Hischem II., whose death had not been established to the satisfaction of the people, was still, despite the entreaties and the protests of the usurper, recited in the Andalusian mosques. The corpse of the last of the Ommeyades had never been exhibited to the populace for identification. The presumption of his survival was in a measure confirmed by the strict seclusion in which he had passed his life. A generation of tutelage and imbecility had not entirely destroyed the prestige of that dynasty whose heroic achievements had reflected such lustre on the Moslem name. Pretenders to the supreme power, concealing their ambition under the specious pretext of liberating an imprisoned sovereign and avenging his wrongs, arose throughout the cities of the South. The ablest and most powerful of these was Khairan, governor of Almeria, an official who had stood high in the favor of Al-Mansur. Even in Africa the aspirations of enterprising generals were excited by the alluring prospect of a vacant throne, a prize which in the lottery of war might readily fall to a bold and fortunate soldier. The excellent qualities of Suleyman did not compensate in the eyes of the multitude for the unpopular methods by which he had risen to power. A leader was soon found who was disposed to profit by the universal discontent. Ali-Ibn-Hamud, at that time governor of Ceuta, had been one of the ablest officers in the armies of Al-Mansur and had served with distinction under that commander. He traced his genealogy to the family of Mohammed. His ancestors, long domiciled in Mauritania, were, however, regarded by the Berbers as of common nationality with themselves. His instincts and associations led him to identify himself with their cause, although he claimed descent from the son-in-law of the Prophet. An understanding was established by the emissaries of their countrymen between the ambitious general and certain conspirators in Spain. Gifted with the astuteness of his race, he easily deceived the superstitious Khairan with a false account of an interview with Hischem, during which he alleged that the latter had appointed him his successor, proclaimed himself the champion of the persecuted Khalif, and, enlisting the sympathies of the innumerable malcontents who viewed with favor any plan promising the overthrow of Suleyman, soon found himself at the head of a formidable revolution.

Ali had hardly landed in Andalusia, before Amir-Ibn-Fotuh, governor of Malaga, whose attachment to the family of the dethroned Khalif had been recently strengthened by the appropriation of a part of his dominions by the Berbers, surrendered that important fortress, and, Ali having formed a junction with Khairan at Almuñecar, the allied army pressed forward without delay to attack the capital. Zawi, the governor of Granada, whose authority and resources equalled those of Suleyman himself, as soon as intelligence of the invasion reached him, announced his adherence to the cause of the insurgents. The times had never been more auspicious for the enterprise of a pretender. By the populace, too often disposed to hold the leader responsible for the delinquencies of his faction, Suleyman was regarded as a fiend incarnate. The soldiers despised him because they mistook his disposition to lenity for an indication of cowardice. The supporters of the ancient dynasty and the dependents of the Amirides, who attributed to his agency the persecution of which they had been the victims, never mentioned his name without a curse. The palace and the Divan were as usual on such occasions centres of intrigue. The army swarmed with traitors. In Cordova itself the mob, which had enjoyed for centuries an unenviable reputation for inconstancy and turbulence, awaited with impatience the signal for revolt. The consequences of this political condition soon became evident. The detachments sent by Suleyman to check the insurgents were one after another put to flight. When the Prince himself appeared in the camp to take command in person, he was seized by his own troops and sent in chains to the enemy. A few days afterwards the wretched Suleyman received at the hands of the executioner, after the infliction of every insult, the last penalty of disaster and incapacity,—the usual fate of captive monarchs in that barbarous age. In spite of the diligent search instituted by the victorious generals, the missing Hischem could not be found, and, as previously related, although Suleyman had insisted that he was dead, the corpse exhumed as his and subjected to a superficial and insufficient identification was not accepted as genuine by those not interested in supporting a fraud, and the fate of the unfortunate son of Al-Hakem remains to this day an impenetrable mystery.

In compliance with an agreement in which he had taken advantage of the credulity of Khairan, Ali now assumed the royal insignia and authority, with the title of Al-Nassir-al-Din-Allah, and another usurper was invested with the uncertain and perilous dignity of nominal ruler of the dismembered khalifate.

Contrary to the expectations of his opponents, and to the infinite disgust of his partisans, who had counted upon indulgence in unbridled license, the beginning of the reign of Ali was marked by a display of moderation and justice for many years unknown to the unhappy people of Andalusia. Before his tribunal the distinctions of faction were no longer recognized, and the Spaniard, without regard to his political relations, received equal consideration with the African. The bandit propensities of the Berbers were mercilessly repressed. The fact that Ali had been reared among them, was connected with their race by ties of consanguinity, was familiar with no other tongue but theirs, and had been raised to the throne through their influence, afforded no security to the Berber malefactor. The slightest act of rapine was punished with instant death. An incident is related by the Arab historians which conveys a significant idea of this summary administration of justice. As the Khalif was once passing through a gate of the capital, he encountered a mounted Berber with a quantity of grapes on the saddle before him. The royal cavalcade was instantly halted, and the Prince demanded of the horseman: “Whence hast thou obtained those grapes?” “I seized them like a soldier,” was the insolent reply. At a signal from Ali, the culprit was at once dragged to the roadside and decapitated. His head was then fastened upon the grapes, and the horse, with its ghastly burden, preceded by a crier, was led through the principal streets of the city as an example of the fate to be expected by all whose lawless inclinations, confirmed by former impunity, tempted them to violate the rights of person and property. In the forms of legal procedure the new ruler discarded the habits of seclusion and mystery affected by the later Ommeyades, and returned to the ancient and patriarchal simplicity which had characterized from time immemorial the unceremonious judicial tribunals of the Orient. On certain appointed days, attended by a slender retinue and with scarcely any tokens of his exalted rank, he sat at the gate of the palace to receive the complaints and redress the grievances of his subjects. At the bar of this court no offender could hope for immunity through pride of lineage, amount of wealth, or important tribal affiliations. Justice was meted out equally to all. The executioner was constantly in attendance, and infliction of the penalty, whether by scourging, imprisonment, or death, followed closely upon the sentence. As the Berbers constituted the majority of the delinquents, they soon began to denounce their sovereign as a political apostate and an enemy of his race. This exhibition of judicial severity was followed by the most satisfactory results. The irresponsible infliction of unusual punishments was replaced by the regular process of law. The Berbers submitted sullenly but completely to the disagreeable but wholesome restraints of discipline. The citizen and the peasant could now, without serious molestation, pursue their ordinary employments. The streets became safe for pedestrians. The highways were purged of banditti. Commerce began to revive. The partiality of Ali for the Andalusians, who, as the more peaceable class of the population, were seldom arraigned before the magistrate to answer for violation of the laws, became daily more marked. Indeed, he had formed the commendable design of depriving his Berber subjects of the property they had acquired by the pillage of their neighbors, and of restoring to the latter the estates which had been confiscated without other warrant of authority than that conveyed by force during the lawless period which had followed the death of Al-Mansur. This plan was frustrated by the habitual inconstancy and ingratitude of the people, fomented by the discontent of a military leader, whose exaggerated estimate of his own abilities was in a direct proportion to his inordinate ambition.

For nearly two years Ali governed the states of his contracted kingdom with exemplary firmness and wisdom. But, while reluctantly acknowledging the benefits they enjoyed, the partisans of the House of Ommeyah could never forget the foreign origin and barbarian antecedents of the determined prince who had avenged their wrongs and tamed the ferocity of their savage oppressors. As for the Africans, they detested the ruler who owed his rank to their courage and treachery, and who repaid their devotion with a contumely and an impartial disregard of their claims which they did not hesitate to denounce as the most flagrant ingratitude. Thus the inflexible justice of Ali alienated his partisans, while the national prejudice against his race operated to his disadvantage in every other quarter. Aware of this feeling, Khairan, who felt aggrieved because he was not intrusted with a larger share in the government he had contributed to establish, organized a conspiracy to restore the Ommeyades to power. Al-Morthada, a great-grandson of Abd-al-Rahman III., was selected as the representative of the malcontents under the title of Abd-al-Rahman IV. The prestige investing the name of the illustrious family of the pretender, the hope of vengeance upon the Berbers, the prospect of revolution, so attractive to the Andalusian mind, brought many followers to his standard. Valencia declared for him. The governor of Saragossa espoused his cause and marched southward with a force of several thousand men. The services of Raymond, Count of Barcelona, were secured, and he appeared in the rebel camp at the head of a squadron of Christian knights sheathed in complete armor. The popularity of the enterprise enlisted the sympathy of the peasantry, always prone to insurrection. In Cordova the presence of the soldiery alone prevented an outbreak, and it was problematical for how long a time the garrison would be able to overawe the populace, even if their own fidelity remained unshaken. Indignant that his efforts for the restoration and maintenance of public order should meet with such a recompense, Ali renounced the statesmanlike policy he had hitherto pursued. The Berbers again reigned supreme in the capital. Once more the streets rang with the tumultuous din of outrage and riot, with the groans of murdered men, with the shrieks of violated women. The tribunals, which for many months had dispensed justice with rigid impartiality, now refused to entertain a complaint against the military tyrants whose passions, exasperated by restraint, raged with redoubled violence. An army of informers was maintained by the government, and eminent citizens were daily consigned to dungeons on the false testimony of the vilest of mankind. This spirit of espionage was so general that it is remarked by a writer, who himself witnessed these scenes, that “one-half of the inhabitants was constantly employed in watching the other half.” The possession of wealth was of itself a powerful incentive to an accusation of treason. A convenient and effective method of replenishing the treasury was devised by causing the arrest of the rich upon fabricated evidence and then restoring them to liberty after payment of an exorbitant ransom. When the friends of the victims came to escort them to their homes, their horses were seized and they were forced to return on foot. It was not unusual for the houses of the nobles to be robbed in open day by the African guards of the Khalif. The few remaining palaces erected by the Ommeyades were destroyed; the known adherents of that faction were persecuted with unrelenting severity, and every conceivable insult was visited upon those whose prejudices against the party in power were assumed to exist by reason of their literary tastes or their superior erudition. The mosques, which heretofore, either from superstitious fear or from motives of policy, had been exempt from forced contributions, were now subjected to the most vexatious extortion. Their ornaments were carried away. Their revenues were confiscated. The ministers of religion were taxed. Many of the finest temples of the capital were deserted or became the haunts of nocturnal marauders. Even the devout dared not assemble for the worship of God. The consciousness of the perfidious ingratitude displayed by his subjects so embittered the temper of the Khalif that he resolved upon the most extreme measures, and publicly announced his intention of razing to its foundation the city of Cordova. The accomplishment of this malignant design, which, in destroying the most splendid architectural monument of Moslem genius, would at the same time have inflicted an irreparable injury upon art and archæology, was fortunately frustrated by the assassination of the tyrant. Three of his most trusted slaves, animated by a desire to liberate their country from the evils from which it suffered, and, so far as can be determined, without the co-operation of others, killed Ali in the bath on the very day he was about to take the field against the enemy.

The murder of the usurper was far from producing the effect desired and expected by the revolutionists, who everywhere hailed it with the most extravagant demonstrations of rejoicing. The dreaded Africans still overawed the populace of the capital. The emissaries of Al-Morthada were unable to arouse the mob, in whose mind was still fresh the remembrance of the merciless vengeance of these barbarians. A council of chieftains was assembled, and the crown was offered to Kasim, the brother of Ali, at that time governor of Seville, who, a trusty lieutenant of Al-Mansur, had served with gallantry in many campaigns against the Christians.

While these events were taking place the cause of the Ommeyade party was declining. Its head, who had been proclaimed khalif under the name of Abd-al-Rahman IV., manifested too independent a spirit to please those who had expected to retain him in perpetual subjection. After the factitious enthusiasm of revolution had subsided, the ranks of the insurgents began to be seriously depleted by desertions. Recruits could not be enlisted for an enterprise which now offered the unattractive prospect of much fighting and privation and but little plunder. The governors of important towns held aloof, or withdrew from an alliance which they had never heartily indorsed. Even the ardor of the leaders was visibly cooled. Khairan himself, whose treasonable propensities were incorrigible, now agreed with Zawi, governor of Granada,—before which city the revolutionary army was encamped,—to abandon the Ommeyade pretender during the first engagement. The perfidious compact was fulfilled to the letter. The traitors deserted in the heat of battle, the faithful adherents of Al-Morthada were overpowered and cut off to a man, and that unfortunate prince, having escaped with difficulty from the field, was followed and put to death by the horsemen of Khairan.

With the death of Ali had disappeared the last impediment to the undisputed ascendency of the Berber faction. The people of Cordova, who had taken no active part in the recent disturbances, submitted with scarcely a murmur to the government of a sovereign who, though trained in camps, evinced little inclination for scenes of bloodshed. The persecution of Ali had effectually broken the spirit of the Andalusian nobility. The wealthy were impoverished. The philosophers, the theologians, the faquis,—whose hypocrisy served as a convenient cloak for their ambition,—had been either exterminated or driven into exile. Thus, the elements of successful resistance having been paralyzed or entirely eliminated, a rare opportunity was afforded for the restoration of order and prosperity. In the very first dispositions of his reign, Kasim displayed a tact and a magnanimity which would have done credit to the most enlightened monarch. He suppressed the violence which had hitherto been tolerated, if not sanctioned, by representatives of the law. He granted an amnesty to the vanquished. The treason of Khairan was pardoned. Eminent supporters of the ancient dynasty were raised to important and responsible commands. Strenuous efforts were made to heal the wounds caused by generations of civil war and to reconcile, at least in appearance, the political dissensions prevailing even among individuals of the same family, and which constantly distracted the peace of every community. This patriotic and conservative policy of Kasim had hardly commenced to restore public confidence, when a measure, adopted for his own security, once more awakened the animosity of the implacable enemies of civilization and order. Long familiarity with the inconstant attachments and treacherous character of the Berbers had rendered the Khalif unwilling to entrust his person to their keeping. They were therefore gradually removed from the palace and their places supplied by negro slaves purchased in the markets of Africa, whose habits of obedience were presumed to afford a better warrant for their fidelity than the offensive pretensions and proud independence of the desert tribes, confirmed for years by legal impunity and successful revolution. The disgrace of the royal guard was considered an unpardonable affront by every individual of the Berber nation. A plot was formed to bestow the khalifate on Yahya, a son of Ali, whose absence in Africa had alone prevented his succession to his father, and who responded with alacrity to the overtures of the Berber chieftains. Landing at Malaga, which city was under the jurisdiction of his brother Edris, and welcomed with the acclamations of the people, he occupied Cordova without encountering the slightest resistance. Kasim, having received intimations of the intended defection of his followers, left the capital at night, and, attended by five slaves on whom he could rely, withdrew to Seville. The pre-eminent unfitness of Yahya for his exalted position soon became apparent. He alienated the Berbers by refusing to restore the ancient privileges of plunder and extortion to which they considered themselves entitled by the right of conquest. Proud of his descent from the family of the Prophet, he constantly maintained a haughty demeanor towards the nobility, and disdained all intercourse with the people, whom he affected to regard as slaves. Notwithstanding this offensive assumption of superiority, he chose for his intimate associates men without standing or character, whose principal recommendation was their indulgence of his whims and their subserviency to his vices. The eminent qualifications for government derived from intellectual acquirements and military experience received no consideration at the hands of this vain and ignorant successor of the khalifs. Discontent soon spread throughout the court and the city. The Berbers importunately demanded a division of the public treasure. The slave-guards of Kasim, apprehensive for their safety, sought the presence and the forgiveness of their former monarch at Seville. Officers, who had signalized their abilities in the councils and the campaigns of a generation, abandoned with disgust the cares of government to the incompetent and low-born sycophants who swarmed around the throne. In no mosque of Andalusia was the khotba repeated in the name of Yahya; that expressive mark of sovereignty was still enjoyed by Kasim, or by some representative of the uncertain and fast-vanishing dignity of the royal race of the Ommeyades.

Thus restricted to the walls of Cordova, whose population regarded his conduct with unconcealed disfavor, Yahya soon began to appreciate the threatening character of the perils that environed him. Convinced of his inability to defend himself in case of attack, he retired to Malaga, accompanied by a retinue little superior in numbers to that with which his uncle had abandoned his capital but a few months before.

The return of Kasim was the signal for fresh conspiracies and renewed disorder. In the conflict of interests the two factions which had accomplished his expulsion were again arrayed against him, and the force of negro slaves, whose duplicity had so signally disappointed his expectations, constituted the sole and precarious bulwark of the throne. A report, perhaps well founded, gained credence in Cordova that another descendant of Abd-al-Rahman would soon lay claim to his hereditary and usurped prerogatives. When the rumor of this movement reached the court, Kasim adopted the most radical measures for the prevention of a new revolution. An indiscriminate proscription was inaugurated against the Ommeyades. The uncertainty of the candidate for regal honors, whose pretensions were to be exhibited for the approval of the people, stimulated the animosity and increased the vigilance of the authorities. The members of the proscribed dynasty fled precipitately from the capital. Of those arrested, many were summarily executed. Others were cast into filthy dungeons to perish slowly by disease and hunger. Princes bred in luxury were compelled to assume the most humble disguises and to adopt the most menial occupations to avoid arrest. The indefatigable search of the emissaries of the Khalif, aided by the venal malice of informers, caused the seizure of a considerable number of the obnoxious faction, who had found a temporary asylum in the villages and farm-houses of the surrounding country. These rigorous precautions failed, however, to intimidate the seditious and exasperated populace. An insurrection suddenly broke out. Oppressed by the tyranny of the government and the increasing license of the soldiery, the citizens, animated by irresistible fury, drove the Khalif, the negro slaves, and the Berbers headlong from the city. The capital was now invested by those who had recently been its masters. Though unprovided with facilities indispensable to the successful maintenance of a siege, they more than once managed to force their way inside the fortifications. The citizens, aware that no quarter was to be expected from their infuriated enemies, defended themselves with the valor of desperation. The gates were walled up with masonry. The ramparts were guarded with ceaseless vigilance. Women and children contributed their puny but encouraging assistance to the almost superhuman efforts of their husbands and fathers. Hunger, exposure, suffering, were endured by all with uncomplaining fortitude. At length the failure of provisions necessitated a compromise. Overtures were made by the besieged for a peaceful evacuation. The Berbers, certain of their prey and meditating a bloody revenge, refused to entertain any proposals from a foe reduced to extremity. Then a sally was made, and the besiegers, unable to withstand the impetuous attack of the Cordovans, sustained a crushing defeat. Their army was scattered; the negroes were slaughtered; the surviving Berbers betook themselves to Malaga, where they entered the service of Yahya; and Kasim, repulsed from the gates of Seville, in which city he had hoped once more to find security, made his way to Xeres, where he soon afterwards fell into the hands of his nephew, and was by his order strangled in prison.

Liberated from the detested presence of the Berbers after an interregnum of two months, the inhabitants of Cordova determined to exercise the right of election in the choice of a ruler, an ancient and integral but long suspended principle of their polity. A vast concourse was convoked in the spacious temple erected by Abd-al-Rahman I. The proceedings were conducted with every circumstance of pomp and solemnity. The presence of the surviving princes of the House of Ommeyah, of the descendants of families illustrious for centuries in the annals of the Peninsula, of nobles who traced their lineage beyond the Hegira, all arrayed in silken vestments embroidered with gold and silver, imparted an air of majesty and splendor to the scene. Thousands of the clients of the dynasty, whose fate had been so closely interwoven with that of the capital it had done so much to embellish, attended in the snowy robes which constituted the distinguishing badge of their party. The Mosque, which easily contained ten thousand people, was crowded to its utmost capacity. Three candidates—Abd-al-Rahman, brother of Mohammed Mahdi; Suleyman, son of Abd-al-Rahman IV.; and Mohammed-Ibn-al-Iraki—appeared to solicit the suffrages of the multitude. Of these, Suleyman, whose claims were urged by the viziers and by the most powerful nobles of the court, seemed so certain of success that, with ill-advised haste, he appeared in the assemblage clad in the costume reserved for royalty, while his adherents had prematurely caused the deed of investiture to be drawn up in his name. But the votes of the lower classes, with whom Abd-al-Rahman was the favorite, overwhelmed the aristocratic party of Suleyman, and, amidst the acclamations of his supporters, the fortunate candidate received the reluctant homage of his rivals, and was raised to the throne of his ancestors under the name of Abd-al-Rahman V.

The reign of the new Khalif lasted only forty-seven days. His elevation was displeasing to the old nobility. His orthodoxy was suspected. The irreverent speeches of his companions were heard with disgust by the theologians and the ministers of religion, who, perhaps not unjustly, thought that infidel and sacrilegious sentiments should not be encouraged in the presence of the Successor of the Prophet. The predilection of the young prince for the society of poets and scholars was a source of complaint to the populace, including many thousand unemployed mechanics and laborers, who had been impoverished by the unsettled condition of society, who had in vain solicited relief from each successive administration, and who, exasperated by repeated disappointments, were ready for any desperate undertaking. The habitual discontent of this numerous class was diligently encouraged by Mohammed, a degenerate grandson of the great Al-Nassir, who united the tastes of an aristocrat with the arts of a demagogue. By the mediation of Ibn-Imran, a noble who had been imprisoned for sedition and imprudently released, a combination of the two most antagonistic elements of Moslem society was accomplished; and disappointed ambition induced the haughty patrician to co-operate with the laborer and the slave who, with the jealousy born of degradation and poverty, had always regarded the members of the ancient Arab nobility as their natural and implacable enemies. When the conspiracy was matured, the guards, who had been corrupted, were withdrawn; the ministers quietly deserted their master; the revolutionists occupied the citadel; and Abd-al-Rahman, dragged ignominiously from an oven where he had hastily sought concealment, was put to death without ceremony or delay. The palace was then sacked by the mob; every individual related by blood or affinity to the Berbers was butchered; the seraglio of the late Khalif was apportioned among the leaders of the triumphant faction; and Mohammed, surrounded with the sanguinary evidences of victory and with the corpse of his predecessor lying before him, took his seat upon the throne.

The unnatural union of the patricians and the mob was dissolved as soon as its object had been attained. The former despised Mohammed, whom they had used solely as an instrument of vengeance, and at once begun to plot his overthrow. Ina few months another insurrection vacated the royal office. Mohammed escaped in a female disguise, only to be poisoned by one of his followers. The African, Yahya, who ruled the city of Malaga, was invited to assume the hazardous and unprofitable honor attaching to the empty title of khalif and the precarious sovereignty of Cordova. That prince, knowing by experience the character of those who tendered him a crown, and the desperation which must have prompted that act when the prejudice against his nationality was considered, while not unwilling to include Cordova in his dominions, yet hesitated to intrust his person to a people whose reputation for disorder and perfidy had gained for it such an infamous and wide-spread notoriety. He therefore delegated his authority to a Berber officer, who, to the consternation and disgust of the inhabitants, took up his abode in the Alcazar, with the title and the powers of viceroy.

The old feeling against the Africans was soon revived. A new conspiracy solicited the interference of Khairan, whose advancing years apparently offered no impediment to his participation in treasonable or revolutionary enterprises, and, with the aid of Modjehid, governor of Denia, he easily drove the Berbers from Cordova. But, as each party feared the other, no agreement could be effected concerning the succession, and the Cordovans were again left to extricate themselves as best they might from the difficulties which misgovernment and license had brought upon them. Once more an attempt was made to restore the Ommeyades, and the crown was offered to a brother of Abd-al-Rahman IV., called Hischem, a name of inauspicious associations, and fated to designate the last of that renowned dynasty of Moorish kings.

Already in the decline of life, of moderate abilities, and for years accustomed to the hardships of poverty and exile, Hischem III. possessed none of those qualities which inspire the respect of the noble and the learned or arouse the enthusiasm of the giddy and inconstant populace. His person was without dignity. His manners were those of a clown. His education had been neglected. Long familiarity with hunger had made him insensible to all enjoyments save those afforded by the indulgence of inordinate gluttony. Although he was welcomed by the inhabitants of Cordova with every demonstration of affection and rejoicing, he constantly maintained a reserved and stolid demeanor which as ill became his station and prospective greatness as did the simplicity of his attire and smallness of his retinue, neither of which was commensurate with the rank of even a prosperous citizen. Upon a people who had not forgotten the majesty of the ancient khalifate and the lavish display of regal magnificence exhibited by its princes, the plebeian appearance and insignificant equipage of this successor of the famous Abd-al-Rahman III. produced a feeling of disappointment not unmingled with contempt. Nor did the subsequent conduct of Hischem III. tend to remove the unfavorable impressions which his first appearance elicited. His voracity and his indolence made him a conspicuous target for the sarcastic wits of the capital. His practical surrender of the power and emoluments of his office to his prime minister, Hakem-Ibn-Said, whose former respectable but humble occupation of weaver seemed a doubtful qualification for important employments of state, provoked the envy and indignation of the arrogant and highly accomplished Arab nobility. The arbitrary measures devised by Hakem to replenish the treasury soon increased the unpopularity which his obscure origin and his unexpected exaltation inspired. He confiscated and sold at auction the jewels and other personal effects of the wealthy Amirides, who, belonging to the weakest political faction of Andalusia, could be oppressed and robbed with comparative impunity. These descendants of the renowned Al-Mansur were also forced to purchase for an enormous sum the metal collected from the royal palaces, whose destruction was popularly attributed to the ambition or the vengeance of the adherents of that family of daring adventurers. Amidst the maledictions and unavailing remonstrances of the clergy, the sanctity of the mosques was again profaned, and the treasures accumulated through the generosity of the pious compelled to contribute to the imperious necessities of the state. The diminution of their revenues exasperated the ministers of religion far more than the sacrilegious interference with their authority and the appropriation of the precious utensils of divine worship. But the theological element had long since, by its avarice, its hypocrisy, and its inclination to political disorder, forfeited the respect of the people of Cordova, where once the ravings of a popular faqui could awaken the apprehensions of the most powerful of sovereigns. While Hakem had little to fear from the hostility of this class, the conduct of the patricians caused him no little anxiety. All attempts to conciliate them proved ineffectual. They scorned his advances. They refused with disdain honorable and lucrative employments. The most magnificent presents failed to gain their friendship or even to secure their neutrality. Thus, repulsed by those whose support he had hoped to acquire, the minister was driven to the inferior orders for the selection of his generals and his magistrates. Every official now shared the odium attaching to his superior. The prejudices thus entertained by the most illustrious and influential order of the empire against the government could not long exist without consequences fatal to its stability.

To insure the continuance of his authority, the astute vizier, who no doubt drew a parallel between his own case and that of the talented and unscrupulous hajib of Hischem II., gratified with all the resources of boundless wealth and unlimited power the sensual caprices and epicurean tastes of his aged and dissolute sovereign. The provinces were ransacked for delicacies to tempt his palate. Such dainties as were unattainable in his own dominions were procured in foreign countries through the medium of enterprising merchants. The choicest wines of Spain, even then famous for the variety and excellence of its vintage, were consumed at the royal table in quantities which appalled the orthodox Mussulman, and struck with amazement the more liberal courtier, who was familiar with the scandalous excesses of preceding reigns. Professional singers and dancers, of exquisite beauty and rare accomplishments, solaced the leisure of the representative of a religion which pronounced their performances an abomination in the sight of God. The attendants of the Khalif were instructed to employ every artifice to retain the latter in seclusion; but the congenial character of the diversions with which the politic ingenuity of the minister daily amused him afforded little probability of his interference with the ambitious designs of one whose anticipation of the desires of his master, in his eyes, more than atoned for the evils resulting from the public misfortune.

But the character of Hischem, while weak, was far from despicable. At times, despite the blandishments of the inmates of his harem, he came forth from his retirement and mingled with the people. He dispensed with liberal and indiscriminating hand the alms whose bestowal is one of the cardinal virtues of the faith of Islam. He visited the hospitals and brought hope and consolation to the couch of the sick and the dying. His generosity relieved the necessities of impecunious pilgrims. The kindness and urbanity he manifested, even to the most degraded, acquired for him the respect and esteem of his subjects. Many a malefactor condemned to an inglorious death had reason to applaud his noble but often mistaken clemency. These estimable qualities, however, could not, in the eyes of the indignant aristocracy, compensate for the habitual neglect of public duty displayed by the Khalif, nor for his complacent resignation of the destinies of the empire into the hands of a low-born subordinate, whose creatures monopolized the highest employments and exacted the unwilling homage of cavaliers whose lineage antedated the Conquest by centuries. A number of nobles, whose influence had been secretly but effectively exerted during the recent disturbances, again met for consultation. The deposition of Hischem was resolved upon, and it was also determined that they themselves should hereafter be the sole depositaries of power. The method they pursued to accomplish their end affords a significant illustration of the low standard of public morals which at that time universally prevailed. It must be remembered that these men were no vulgar conspirators. Of the distinctions conferred by birth, education, political experience, and military renown none possessed a larger share. They belonged to the most haughty and exclusive of the patricians. Their blood had never been contaminated by degrading alliances with African, Jew, or Spaniard. Aside from the losses incurred through enforced contributions, their wealth had not been sensibly impaired by the destructive accidents of revolution and civil war. Their attainments would have been respectable even when Cordova was the most enlightened community in Europe, and now, in its age of degeneracy, few indeed could be found to rival them in acuteness and erudition. Some were descended from a line of courtiers for generations employed in the diplomatic service of the khalifate. Others had exercised their military talents against the Christian chivalry on the frontiers of Aragon and Catalonia. A few theologians were to be found among them whose religious principles had not escaped the vicious contagion of the age, and with whom questions of casuistry were invariably subordinated to the alluring claims of pecuniary interest and worldly ambition. It would naturally be presumed that men of this character would be solicitous to maintain a high standard of personal honor and political integrity. But constant familiarity with treason in its most repulsive forms; with the organized hypocrisy that permeated every department of the government and every rank of society; with the savage tyranny of princes, who themselves did not hesitate to assume the hateful office of executioner; with the deliberate malice of assassins, who without compunction thrust the dagger into the vitals of their unsuspecting friends; with the irreconcilable enmities of the nearest kindred; with the spirit of anarchy ripe among the masses, had produced such complete demoralization that no caste or individual was uncontaminated by its pernicious influence. The association of nobles, above alluded to, had organized itself into a semi-official body under the designation of the Council of State. At its head was Ibn-Djahwar, a statesman of great talents, of large experience, of exquisite tact, of indefatigable energy. The antagonism between this powerful junta and the minister became each day more bitter, as each endeavored, with industrious malignity, to subvert the authority of the other. The influence of his favorite was paramount with the Khalif, but the Khalif was a cipher. The nobles possessed the sympathy of their order and the deferential admiration of the masses, who always looked to the aristocracy for advice and leadership. They artfully stimulated the discontent of the people, already sufficiently grievous, by representing the public distress and the decline of commercial prosperity—legitimate results of a long series of national misfortunes—as the work of the obnoxious hajib. They aroused the feeling against the Berbers, some of whom Hakem had intrusted with important employments. Then, with an ingenious refinement of treachery, they engaged a young adventurer named Ommeya, a collateral descendant of the dynasty of Cordova, to head a revolution with the hope of ascending the throne. Every facility was afforded him by his shrewd but perfidious allies. They secretly distributed emissaries through every quarter of the capital and the provinces. They contributed gold with profuse liberality. The officers of the army were corrupted by bribery and by promises of promotion. At length the long-expected signal was given. The mob rose and killed the minister as he issued from the palace. The venerable Khalif was seized and confined in his apartments while the nobles assembled to determine his fate. Ommeya, wholly unconscious of the duplicity of which he was the victim, had already began to arrogate to himself the prerogatives of imperial power by the issuing of commands, the appointment of officials, and the distribution of rewards. The members of the Council of State, attended by an armed escort, now appeared upon the scene. With a solemnity that awed the multitude, they declared the khalifate abolished, and assumed, by virtue of their self-established dignity, the responsibilities of government and the supreme direction of affairs. In a proclamation addressed to the inhabitants of Andalusia, they recounted the calamities which had ensued from the broken and disordered succession of the empire; the repeated disappointments resulting from the elevation of incompetent and dissolute pretenders; the insecurity of the present and the uncertainty of the future which paralyzed all branches of commerce and industry; the absolute hopelessness of improvement under the worthless princes of a decrepit and unstable dynasty. With modesty and firmness they enumerated their own qualifications for the discharge of the functions they had usurped. They promised the maintenance of order, the regulation of police, the removal of the burdens imposed by immoderate and arbitrary taxation. They pledged themselves to the faithful execution of the laws. The well-known and eminent character of the nobles composing the Council of State procured for their statements a respectful hearing, and their power, long exercised in an advisory capacity, had prepared the way for the unreserved assumption of authority. Without either remonstrance or enthusiasm, the inhabitants of a considerable portion of the Peninsula transferred their alliance from a line of monarchs, rendered illustrious by the glorious traditions of nearly three centuries, to the irresponsible members of a precarious and self-constituted oligarchy.

The dupe of the conspirators, Ommeya, who with mingled rage and terror had seen his delusive hopes of empire vanish in an instant, was forcibly expelled from the city. His part having been played, and his insignificance rendering him unworthy of further attention, he remained at liberty, until, having tried to secretly enter the capital, he was arrested, and his disappearance from that moment was attributed, not without probability, to the sanguinary precautions of the Council of State.

Hischem was condemned to imprisonment for life in an isolated fortress of the Sierra Ronda. The negligence or the corruption of the guard, however, enabled him to escape after a few months’ detention, and he passed the five remaining years of his existence in the city of Lerida, a dependency of the princely family of Ibn-Hud, Emirs of Saragossa.

With Hischem III. finally disappeared the dynasty which had ruled, for the most part with phenomenal success and splendor, the powerful empire of Moorish Spain. In the space of two hundred and sixty-seven years, fourteen khalifs of the House of Ommeyah had guided the destinies of that empire. Of these princes, six pre-eminent in executive ability, in intellectual culture, in military genius, in political sagacity, had ascended, one after another, to the foremost rank among the great sovereigns of the earth. They had founded magnificent cities. They had erected palaces, whose crumbling ruins suggest the creations of the genii. They had collected vast libraries. Their commercial establishments were to be found among the most remote nations. The prowess of their captains had been recognized on the banks of the Rhone, on the plains of Lombardy, in the provinces of the Atlas, in the islands of the Mediterranean. Their munificence and culture had made the imperial city of the Guadalquivir a shrine of literary pilgrimage. In that city the aristocracy of intellect was even more esteemed than nobility of descent. Its possessors were the companions, the favorites, the councillors of kings. In singular contrast to the prejudices of subsequent ages, the edifices of religion were made subservient to the interests of science, and the minarets of mosques were furnished with astronomical apparatus. In the ability to erect stupendous monuments of mechanical and agricultural industry, in the perfection of hydraulic engineering, in the skilful employment of the principles of fortification, the subjects of these polished rulers were the superiors of any of the nations of antiquity. In such of the arts as were not proscribed by the doctrines of their religion, they produced models of unapproachable excellence. And, while these great advances in civilization were being made under the auspices of Islam, the European world was plunged in the darkness of barbarism and superstition. Of the great capitals of Europe, to-day the renowned seats of art and learning, London and Paris were the only ones whose population was sufficiently numerous to raise them to the dignity of cities. Within their precincts the most ordinary conveniences of life were practically unknown. The intercourse of the people was dominated by the brutal instincts of savage life; property was at the mercy of the strongest; and society was conjointly ruled by the sword of the baron and the crucifix of the monk. The vicious tendencies of the Moslem system; the participation of barbarians in a government whose mechanism they had neither the capacity to understand nor the judgment to direct; the corruption of public morals, inevitable in a state which has reached the highest degree of civilization attainable under its institutions; the gradual relaxation and final rupture of the ties of allegiance which bind the subject to the sovereign; the decrepitude of a nation which, in obedience to the inexorable necessity resulting from its political and social conditions, had completed its existence and fulfilled its destiny in the history of the world, had undermined the foundations and demolished the imposing fabric of the Ommeyade empire. The time had long since passed when the magic of a name, whose owners had accomplished so much for the cause of human progress, had ennobled the pursuits of learning and assumed the patronage of art,—a name almost synonymous with national prosperity and regal grandeur,—could inspire the respect of foreign nations or arouse the dormant enthusiasm of the multitude. No member of that dynasty, however talented, could now have restored the monarchy of his ancestors, whose reminiscences, for centuries refused the sanction of history among Christian nations and imperfectly preserved even by Arab authors, were destined to be largely transmitted to future ages through the suspicious medium of romantic and exaggerated tradition.

The relation of Moorish affairs in the Peninsula becomes henceforth necessarily desultory and disconnected. The authority, once central at Cordova, was distributed among a hundred states, whose rulers, mutually hostile and aspiring to individual supremacy, constantly enlisted Christian auxiliaries in a struggle which must eventually terminate in the contraction of their dominions, the impairment of their sovereignty, and the destruction of their faith. The blessings of peace, the preservation of order, were forgotten in a fierce contest for power inspired by revenge and ambition. Prejudices of race and religion, engendered by ages of unremitting hostility, were discarded by unnatural coalitions of Moslem usurpers and Castilian adventurers, whose only bond of alliance was a community of spoliation and infamy. The intrigues of one faction planted the banners of the Cross on the shores of the Mediterranean. The blind animosity of another permitted the desecration of the noblest monument of Moslem piety. Professed disciples of the religion of Mohammed saw with complacent indifference the horses of Christian knights tethered to the columns of the mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, while the sanctuary, which still contained the sacred Koran of the Khalif Othman, resounded with the clanking tread of the curious and scoffing infidel.

The disintegrated sections of the empire were now to witness the trial of a form of government hitherto unknown to the Moslem constitution. The very essence of the polity of Islam had always been the concentration of power in a single individual, who exercised conjointly the functions appertaining to the official head of both Church and State. The assumption of authority by an association of nobles, while the result of political necessity, was none the less an act of flagrant usurpation. It was repugnant to the principles, the traditions, the legal and religious maxims upon which the organization of Moslem society was based, and by which it had always been maintained. It had not received the sanction of popular approbation or consent. The dethronement of Hischem was an arbitrary deed of violence unconfirmed by any evidence of voluntary abdication. As there had been no formal renunciation of vested rights, those rights were only suspended, and the subjects of the Khalif were not, in law, absolved from their allegiance.

The constitution of the Council of State, whose jurisdiction extended but a short distance beyond the walls of Cordova, was partly oligarchical and partly democratic. A formal assemblage of citizens conferred upon Ibn-Djahwar, the most prominent member of that body, an office whose powers and privileges appertained to the anomalous dignity of the autocratic supreme magistrate of a republic. The course of Ibn-Djahwar was characterized by the greatest moderation and justice. Unlike the Cæsars of Rome, whose despotic edicts were registered by an obsequious senate, the president of the Moorish Council of State refused, of his own volition, to decide or even to examine any question until it had been publicly presented to his associates, and he required that all official communications should be addressed to them. This habitual deference to the opinions of his colleagues, which, however, invariably coincided with his own, increased the consideration in which he was held by the nobility, the army, the clergy, and the people. The new magistrate, in addition to the eminent qualifications which both suggested and justified his promotion, was aided by many adventitious circumstances which rarely fail to elicit the admiration or the homage of mankind. He belonged to a family of ancient and distinguished lineage. His ancestors had served the khalifs in the departments of finance and war. He was the most opulent citizen of the capital, and had managed, by an exercise of thrift and economy unusual in his station, to make vast accumulations to his wealth without ever incurring the suspicion of corruption or tyranny. The measures he adopted for the public welfare were dictated by the most exemplary prudence and wisdom. Taxes were reduced. Mercantile enterprise was promoted by the assurance of public security, derived from the protection of the highways and the repression of crime. Intimate commercial relations were established between Cordova and the other principalities of Andalusia, resulting in the interchange of commodities and the extension of trade. With a prudent regard for future contingencies, he provisioned the principal cities and forts under his jurisdiction. The magazines of the capital alone contained supplies for the entire population of the kingdom for many months. Important reforms were instituted in the army. The Berbers, ever an element of discord, were disbanded. Such as had been notorious for their atrocities were exiled. Their places were filled by a volunteer soldiery, which, in its general character, corresponded to our militia, and in whose organization the sentiments or the prejudices of no single faction were allowed to predominate. One division of this force, commanded by an officer of experience and ability, was made responsible for the peace of the city. The most distinguished citizens were enrolled in the guard of public safety, and by turns patrolled the streets. Public business was transacted with no more ceremony than was required to make it impressive by commanding respect. The numerous throng of parasites and dependents usually considered an indispensable appendage to the royal dignity no longer encumbered the antechambers of the palace. The formerly lucrative profession of informer, patronized by even the greatest khalifs as a precaution against treason, became deservedly infamous. The judicial tribunals were organized in the interests of equity. Competent advocates, who received compensation from the public treasury, were appointed to prosecute the causes of such as were too poor to employ counsel. Immigration was encouraged, and a considerable portion of the capital which had been demolished during the civil wars was rebuilt by the colonists, who, weary of perpetual strife, sought the protection of a new government which seemed to offer to its subjects the fairest hopes of peace and tranquillity. The administration of the finances was conducted in accordance with the strictest principles of economy, and officials charged with the collection of taxes were compelled to render accounts at stated times, and were held responsible, under heavy penalties, for the performance of their duties. The extraordinary and illegal burdens which had been imposed upon the mosques were abolished, and the clergy once more entered upon the enjoyment of the revenues of which they had been arbitrarily deprived. The disorders of the times had raised up a great number of impostors,—half physicians, half sorcerers,—who, to the great detriment of medical science and of the public health, plied their trade, sustained by the ignorance and credulity of the populace, ever easily deluded by the arts of charlatans. These were prosecuted by the government for magic, and to provide against a recurrence of the evil a college of physicians was organized, who passed upon the knowledge and the qualifications of every future practitioner. Such were the reforms effected by the prudence and the sagacity of Ibn-Djahwar. Although they produced for a time a semblance of prosperity, this was delusive and rather apparent than real. The calamities which had, almost without intermission, afflicted Cordova for a quarter of a century had forever degraded her from the proud rank of imperial cities. Her inhabitants had been massacred. Her wealth had been dispersed. Her trade had been destroyed. The literary prestige which had exalted her name far above even those of the polished capitals of the Moslem empire of the East had been swept away amidst the turmoil of barbarian supremacy. Henceforth the political eminence which she had once enjoyed was to be transferred to the cities of Toledo, Saragossa, Almeria, Badajoz, Seville, and Granada.

The policy of the early khalifs, who thoroughly appreciated the dangerous character of their African allies, had established the Berber hordes on the northern and western frontiers of their dominions, and as far as possible from their capital. The incessant warfare maintained by the Christians, as had been foreseen, so occupied these barbarians that their attention was diverted from the provinces of the South by the circumstances of their location, and the consequent demand for unremitting vigilance required by the proximity of an audacious and persevering enemy. The loyalty of the governors of this territory, whose capital was Saragossa, had never been above suspicion. The propensity of the Africans to rebellion was habitually indulged by their chieftains, who carried into the distant North the licentious independence of the Desert. During the existence of the khalifate, the Emirs of Saragossa conceded to the Ommeyade princes the doubtful allegiance of tributary vassals rather than the implicit obedience of faithful subjects. Their martial instincts, their predatory inclinations, and their constant familiarity with danger made them a race of formidable and experienced warriors. The family of Ibn-Hud, whose most distinguished ancestor was appointed governor of the frontier by the Khalif Abdallah, was the founder of the dynasty which raised Saragossa to great political influence among the independent estates of Moorish Spain. By political alliances with its Christian neighbors, it long preserved the integrity of its domain. It encouraged agriculture, commerce, manufactures. It patronized the arts. The portal of the palace mosque, still intact, conveys an idea of the barbaric extravagance of its architecture. Its princes were far from considering the pursuits of science as incompatible with regal dignity. One composed a work on mathematics. Another delighted to pass the hours of darkness in the study of the heavens. It was a singular destiny which had transformed the seat of these ferocious nomads—as a rule so insensible to extraneous influences—into one of the centres of Moslem civilization.

The fortunate experiment of Cordova in abolishing the empire—a measure which resulted in the restoration of peace—was imitated by Seville, a city which in population, opulence, and commercial resources had always been a powerful rival of the capital, and was now destined to assume a pre-eminent rank among the ephemeral dynasties of the Peninsula.

The expulsion of Kasim by the infuriated mob of Cordova was followed by his exclusion from the territory of Seville. Popular indignation had been aroused by a tyrannical order requiring that a thousand houses should forthwith be vacated by the citizens for the accommodation of his African followers. A garrison of Berbers had already exasperated the inhabitants by its repeated acts of insolence and cruelty. The prospect of an army of privileged banditti being quartered in their homes, an occupancy which was equivalent to absolute confiscation, drove the people of Seville to revolt. Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, the Kadi, and other representatives of the malcontents by promises of military promotion and pecuniary rewards easily induced the Berber governor to renounce the service of a master whom fortune seemed about to abandon. The gates were closed in the very face of the Emir. The walls were occupied by thousands of armed citizens prepared to defend, at all hazards, their newly obtained liberty. Kasim, after stipulating for the delivery of his treasures and the restoration of his sons who happened to be at that time in the city, consented to retire forever from the scenes of his former power. His rear-guard had scarcely been lost sight of from the battlements before the Berber garrison was notified to depart, and, relieved from apprehensions of hostile interference, the Sevillians proceeded without delay to the task of political reorganization.

By the unanimous voice of the multitude, prompted by the nobles, who, nevertheless, regarded his wealth with envy and his popularity with disdain, the Kadi was offered the supreme magistracy. The character of this personage, whose descendants played a prominent part in the subsequent events of Andalusia, was a singular compound of executive ability, profound dissimulation, and insatiable avarice. Unlike the aristocratic ruler of Cordova, his origin was mean and plebeian. The eminent genius of his father Ismail, who attained to equal distinction in the widely different professions of arms, theology, and law, first attracted public notice to a family inconspicuous as yet except for the honorable principles and the plodding industry of its members. He had transmitted to his son a large share of his talents; but Abul-Kasim was deficient in those virtues which in a responsible station often compensate for the absence of distinguished abilities. His office of kadi, which he had secured by flattery and retained by treason, he valued only as a stepping-stone to absolute power. Aware that the tender of sovereignty was not a recognition of superior merit, but a shrewd artifice of the nobles by which, in case of the restoration of the House of Ibn-Hamud to the throne, their caste might contrive to escape and the wrath of the avenger be concentrated on the head of an individual whose obscure birth, dignified by immense possessions and ever-increasing influence, rendered him peculiarly obnoxious to the aristocratical order, Abul-Kasim declined the invidious distinction. When urged to reconsider his decision, he finally consented to accept, provided councillors of his own choice were associated with him in the administration. This having been readily conceded, he appointed several of the most prominent and haughty members of the Sevillian nobility, whose protection might be secured or their treasonable complicity established in the event of a counter-revolution, together with a number of his own dependents, who had little to recommend them but a talent for intrigue and a blind devotion to the interests of their patron.

The first efforts of Abul-Kasim were directed to the establishment of a military force. For the first time since the Conquest, Seville was left absolutely destitute of the ordinary means of defence. With the expulsion of the Berbers, the last individual trained in the profession of arms had disappeared. The arsenal was well provided with military supplies, but neither the magistrate nor the people had the least practical knowledge of the equipment or the discipline indispensable for the effective organization of an army. The genius of Abul-Kasim was, however, not daunted by even apparently insuperable obstacles. He established recruiting stations in every settlement which acknowledged the jurisdiction of Seville. The tempting inducements offered—pay greatly exceeding that usually allowed the soldiers of the khalif and the assurance of unrestricted pillage—soon lured to his standard crowds of needy and rapacious adventurers. The exigencies of the occasion forbade a critical scrutiny of the nationality or the antecedents of these volunteers. Arabs, Berbers, Christians, and foreigners were enlisted without hesitation. In accordance with a well-established precedent, the slave-markets were ransacked and the warlike natives of Nubia and the Soudan purchased, and marshalled side by side with political refugees, escaped criminals, and the dregs of the Sevillian populace. The excesses of military license, long practised with impunity, had rendered the profession of a soldier highly unpopular and even disreputable, and few citizens of honorable connections and irreproachable character could now be induced to voluntarily incur the odium attaching to a class universally regarded as the scourge of society. By untiring diligence and lavish expenditure, Abul-Kasim finally succeeded in collecting a force of a few hundred men. No more significant indication of the decadence of the Moslem empire could be adduced than the fact that among a people renowned for martial ardor and long accustomed to warfare an army of sufficient strength to defend the most populous city of the Peninsula could not be raised even by bounties, by the hope of plunder, or by purchase.

The difficulties arising from the anomalous political condition of Seville were well known to the petty princes of the shattered khalifate. The prize which the rich and defenceless city offered to the ambition of an enterprising commander was too tempting to long remain secure. Yahya, the son of Ali, the Edrisite Khalif who had recently refused to trust his person among the perfidious inhabitants of Cordova after they had tendered him the government and who now ruled the principality of Malaga, suddenly appeared with a powerful Berber army before the walls of Seville. Resistance was impossible, and Yahya was informed that the city would acknowledge his pretensions if his soldiers were not permitted to enter the gates. This proposition he was not unwilling to accept, but demanded, as an indispensable preliminary, the delivery of hostages, to be selected from the families of the most prominent citizens and the nobility. When this condition was proposed, negotiations were at once suspended, for no one was prepared to incur the risk. The Berbers had never renounced their savage practices. They were not accustomed to observe the faith of treaties, even where their own interests were concerned. The massacre of captives and hostages was in perfect accordance with their sanguinary instincts, and a sudden caprice, or the fear of escape, might in an instant cause the annihilation of the flower of the Sevillian youth. In this trying emergency neither the patriotism nor the confidence of Abul-Kasim in his good fortune deserted him. He placed his own son in the hands of the Berber prince, and removed the apprehensions of his countrymen by convincing Yahya that this pledge was a sufficient warrant for the fidelity of the people. Relying on the authority vested in a nominal sovereign, the Kadi now seized the opportunity of delivering himself from his councillors, and they were, one after another, under various pretexts, dismissed from office. Animated by the hope of one day being able to assert his independence, he next devoted his energies to the acquisition of new territory and the consolidation of his power. The noble self-sacrifice he had exhibited in exposing his son to danger for the public welfare had raised his character in the estimation of every class of citizens. The nobility regarded him with undisguised gratitude and admiration. His popularity with the masses, now liberated from the insults of the soldiery, was unbounded. The faquis extolled the justice and generosity of a magistrate who had removed the tyrannical exactions imposed on their order. Secure of the devotion of the army, whose interests he was careful never to neglect, the Kadi, having formed an alliance with the governor of Carmona, began to make incursions into the dominions of the princes who surrounded him. He overran the province of Beja. He plundered the settlements on the sea-coast west of Cadiz. The son of the Emir of Badajoz was defeated by his troops and taken prisoner. He even menaced Cordova, and compelled Ibn-Djahwar and his colleagues to enlist Berber mercenaries for its defence. He projected an expedition against the Christians, which failed on account of the treachery of the Emir of Badajoz, who repaid the previous misfortune to his arms with an ambuscade, which inflicted serious injury on the forces of Abul-Kasim and caused his retreat.

Meanwhile, the isolated states and communities of the ancient khalifate were threatened with the recurrence of a deplorable political and social calamity. The depopulated provinces of Southern Spain, the incessant prevalence of hostility, the desire of sharing in the spoils of a country where their race had obtained incalculable wealth and absolute power, the insatiable thirst of military adventure, had produced, since the exaltation of the House of Ali, an enormous African immigration. The Berbers now swarmed in countless numbers over the plains to the south and west of the Sierra Morena, a region once considered the garden of Andalusia, and where their flocks still found a rich and abundant pasturage. Heretofore the allegiance of these unruly adventurers had been divided among a hundred petty chieftains, apparently incapable of harmony and united in nothing save an undying hatred of the indigenous population. Now, however, the case was altered. A national sentiment had arisen, which was soon confirmed by the inspiration of numbers, by the consciousness of strength, by the remembrance of injury, and by the hope of revenge. All eyes were turned towards Yahya, the ruler of Malaga, who, a Berber by descent and traditions, was also the representative of an African dynasty, and, for that reason, admirably qualified to be the leader of a national movement. The universal enthusiasm was artfully encouraged by the secret emissaries of the prince. The chieftains, with singular accord, surrendered their precarious authority. The passions of the barbarians were inflamed with the prospect of booty, and Yahya was publicly recognized as the head of the entire Berber party.

No such unanimity of thought and action had, before this time, ever been evinced by the turbulent and mutually jealous colonists from Africa. The alliances of the various tribes had always been of temporary duration, formed and maintained by necessity in the face of an enemy. At the conclusion of a campaign each clan resumed the unrestrained liberty and patriarchal independence incident to a pastoral life. But the present organization promised to be permanent, and was consequently fraught with danger. It augured ill for the prevalence of civilized institutions in Europe that the country which, even under the most adverse political conditions, had preserved in a large measure its intellectual superiority and its artistic excellence should become the prey of ruthless barbarians, who had already desolated its fairest provinces and levelled its most beautiful architectural monuments with the earth. The moment was a most favorable one for the realization of this ominous scheme of barbarian ambition. The people of the Moslem States of Spain were inflamed with sentiments of mutual suspicion and hatred. The two great cities of Cordova and Seville were experimenting with a novel and untried form of government. The only ally of the latter, the governor of Carmona, had recently been disposed of by the conquest of his territory and its annexation to the principality of Malaga. But one possibility existed of counteracting the impending ruin. Could a coalition of the parties hostile to Berber supremacy be formed, the destruction of all the beneficial results accomplished by the Ommeyade dynasty might be averted. This plan, however, despite its obvious necessity, seemed impracticable. The reciprocal enmity maintained by citizens of the various principalities was far more violent than the apprehension with which they regarded the possible restoration of African tyranny. Some had sustained, others had inflicted, unpardonable injuries upon their neighbors. In many instances the despised Christian had been called in to contribute to the humiliation of an execrated but too powerful adversary. By this means, so repugnant to the principles of a conscientious Moslem, the coveted vengeance had been secured. Fine estates had been laid waste. Families had been extirpated. Entire districts had been swept by conflagration. The sanctity of the harem, so dear to every Oriental, had been profaned by the cruel insults and shameless lubricity of the gigantic and repulsive barbarians of the North, and their blasphemous jests had echoed through the stately colonnades of Moslem temples, the desecration of whose hallowed precincts by infidels was, under the law of Islam, punishable with death.

The penetrating sagacity of Abul-Kasim had early foreseen the impending misfortune as well as the appropriate remedy. The method he pursued in the application of that remedy does great credit to his political ingenuity and administrative genius. It was apparent at a glance that he himself, as the head of a coalition, would not receive the support of even those whose property and liberties were in imminent peril. Prejudice against the obscurity of his birth, jealousy of his talents and his authority, fear of the consequences of his ambition, would prevent that general co-operation of all factions indispensable to success. He therefore resolved to avail himself of a threadbare artifice, which had already more than once been practised with surprising results by unscrupulous aspirants to power. He determined to again resurrect the unfortunate Hischem II., by the assistance of his name rescue the Peninsula from the threatened Berber domination, and, having consolidated its scattered fragments, to claim as his own reward the sovereignty of the restored khalifate. The fate of the royal puppet of Al-Mansur had never been absolutely ascertained. One account—probably the most correct one—declared that he had perished when Cordova was sacked by the Berbers. Another attributed his death to the relentless cruelty of the tyrant Suleyman. The tales of mendacious travellers, who declared that they had seen and conversed with him in Arabia and Palestine, were eagerly received and industriously circulated by the ignorant populace, powerfully influenced by every tale of wonder and mystery. The attachment of all classes to the memory of this degenerate monarch was extravagant and almost inexplicable. He was endowed with none of those splendid qualities which are commonly associated with the office of royalty. Retained for years in rigid seclusion and veiled whenever he appeared in public, his features and his demeanor were alike unfamiliar to his subjects. The selfish and unprincipled ambition of an aspiring minister had, by the application of every device of sensual pleasure, reduced a mind of more than ordinary parts to the verge of imbecility. Of the innumerable and brilliant achievements of his nominal reign not one could be even indirectly attributed to his personal influence or to his counsel. The lustre which illuminated the throne of Hischem II., whose victorious standards moved forward with unbroken success for almost a generation, was only the reflected glory of the hajib, Al-Mansur. But personal disadvantages and misfortune rather enhanced than diminished his popularity, which grew with the progress of time. Amidst the confusion and wide-spread disaster of foreign invasion and intestine conflict, the intellectual defects and abandoned vices of the last of the Ommeyades were forgotten. Only the military triumphs and domestic security of a period made illustrious under his auspices now appealed to the sympathy and the pride of the persecuted nobles, citizens, and peasantry. They remembered that during his reign, twice in every year for a quarter of a century, the Christian frontier had receded for many leagues before the irresistible impetus of the Moslem arms. They recalled with exultation that the trophies of the holiest of Spanish shrines had been suspended in the magnificent mosque of their capital. There existed still in the memory of the aged reminiscences of great military displays on the eve of a Holy War; of convoys guarding the rich spoils wrested from the infidel; of splendid embassies which proffered the friendship or the allegiance of distant kingdoms; of interminable processions of manacled and dejected captives; of the impressive chants which, publicly recited on the occasion of a triumph, attested the gratitude of the fanatical and the devout; of the deafening acclamations of assembled thousands. Repetitions of the romantic fables which purported to relate the wanderings and the distress of Hischem had invested these accounts with a plausibility which their manifold inconsistencies never merited. The impossibility of some, the obvious contradictions of others, the uncertain and suspicious origin of all, were overlooked. It was sufficient for the uncritical and excitable masses that a khalif whose reign had been identified with the most famous epoch of Moslem greatness might possibly be still alive. Under these circumstances, every ridiculous legend concerning his appearance and his occupations, every new tale of his condition and his movements, invented by imaginative foreigners, obtained the ready credence of persons whose education and whose knowledge of the world should have at once detected their absurdity.

In the city of Calatrava there had lived for several years a weaver of mats, who in age, mental characteristics, and personal appearance was said to bear an extraordinary resemblance to the missing Hischem. The birthplace and the antecedents of this individual, whose name was Khalaf—an appellation in itself suggestive from its similarity to the title of sovereignty—were unknown. His reticence on this point confirmed the rash assumption of his imperial descent, and the consideration with which he was regarded by his townsmen having aroused his ambition, he publicly declared his identity with the Ommeyade prince. The people, already half convinced, supported the imposture, which rested upon no tangible evidence whatever, and, in their enthusiasm, they even went so far as to declare their independence of their suzerain, the Emir of Toledo. On the appearance of the latter at the head of an army, however, the Calatravans repented of their indiscretion, promptly expelled the aspiring mat-maker, and, with many protestations of repentance, returned to their allegiance.

Intelligence of these events having been communicated to Abul-Kasim, he caused search to be made for the unsuccessful impostor. In due time his retreat was discovered, and he was conducted to Seville. There he was submitted to the inspection of the concubines and slaves of Hischem; their perplexity, their interest, or their fears prevailed over their penetration; and the illiterate and obscure mechanic was declared by those who were the best qualified to judge to be the undoubted descendant of a line of celebrated kings. This important preliminary having been accomplished, Abul-Kasim announced the alleged discovery of Hischem by letter to all of the princes and dignitaries of Moorish Spain. The result, while creditable to their patriotism and national pride, did little honor to the keenness of their wits or the accuracy of their perceptions. In Cordova alone the elation of the populace overcame the authority but not the discretion or the judgment of the magistrate; and Ibn-Djahwar, while he might condemn the propagation of a contemptible political fraud, was forced to recognize its utility in effecting a union of factions whose combined influence might prevent the destruction of organized government in the Peninsula and the consequent retardation of the social and intellectual progress of Europe. With the wildest demonstrations of joy, the inhabitants of the old Ommeyade capital evinced their loyalty to a dynasty whose princes they had so often adored and so often defied; the powers of the Council of State were popularly supposed to be merged into those of the empire; and Ibn-Djahwar and his aristocratic colleagues announced themselves the servants of the plebeian impostor, who held a mimic court in the palace of his master, the shrewd and intriguing Kadi of Seville. The example of Cordova was speedily followed by the states of Denia and the Balearic Isles, Tortosa, and Valencia.

Yahya, from his stronghold at Carmona, saw with wonder and dismay the establishment and progress of the formidable confederacy which had already thwarted his projects and threatened the speedy overthrow of his power. The intoxication to which he was habitually addicted caused him to neglect the precautions dictated by ordinary prudence. While overcome with wine he was lured into a nocturnal ambuscade and killed, with the larger portion of his command; and Ismail, the son of the Kadi, who had charge of the victorious detachment, returned to receive the congratulations of the people of Seville.

The death of Yahya was a fatal blow to the hopes of the Berber party. None of his family possessed, in an equal degree, talents for organization or the confidence of their followers, advantages which had so effectually promoted the fortunes of the deceased commander. His death was no sooner known than the Berbers disbanded, and with characteristic inconstancy returned to the tranquil pursuits of pastoral life. Even the integrity of his own dominions could no longer be maintained. His brother Edris was raised to the throne of Malaga, but Mohammed, a cousin of the latter, had already received the homage of the garrison of Algeziras; the Africans of the province began to show signs of insubordination, and Edris saw himself confronted at the outset of his reign with difficulties which already seemed to portend a disastrous termination of the projected Berber empire. The impatience of Abul-Kasim soon outstripped his discretion as well as his resources. He endeavored to secure for his puppet the prestige which would attach to his cause by the occupation of Cordova, but the authorities of that city peremptorily refused him admittance, and their temporary support of the false Hischem having, in their judgment, served its purpose, they formally renounced their allegiance to the impostor.

The centre of political disturbance in the Peninsula now shifts to the Mediterranean coast and to the eastern confines of Andalusia. Almeria had, since the dissolution of the khalifate, enjoyed, to a remarkable degree, immunity from the prevalent disorders. That city was the largest and the most opulent commercial emporium of the Spanish Mohammedans. So far from having been injured by the evils afflicting every other principality, she seemed to have profited by the misfortunes of her neighbors. Her governors had been neither conquered nor deposed, and her Emir still held the commission bestowed by a khalif. The insecurity of other ports had practically driven the commerce of the country to the protection of the mighty castle which commanded her harbor. She had experienced few of the political vicissitudes which had distracted the provinces of the North and West. While they had fallen under African or Jewish influence, she had retained all the traditions, the pride, and the exclusiveness of a community where the Arab element predominated. The nominal ruler was Zohair, a prince of mediocre talents and effeminate character; but the control of the government was substantially vested in the vizier, Ibn-Abbas, who united great literary accomplishments and executive ability with boundless avarice and a fertile genius for intrigue. He was one of the most learned of men. The elegance of his epistolary style was famous. He was a distinguished composer and improvisatore. His person was strikingly handsome. His family traced their origin to the Defenders of the Prophet. The vanity and presumption which he constantly displayed were as offensive as his talents and accomplishments were remarkable. His affluence and the state which he maintained in an era of national decadence convey some idea of the prodigal splendor exhibited by the Arab nobility in the prosperous days of the empire. His palace equalled in extent and in the magnificence of its appointments the most sumptuous abodes of royalty. The gardens with which it was surrounded recalled, by their profusion of rare and delicious flowers, the teeming wealth of tropical vegetation. Crowds of slaves ministered to the caprices of a haughty but indulgent master. Among the beauties of his harem were numbered five hundred singers, selected as much for loveliness of feature and symmetry of form as for their proficiency in the art of music. In one of the noblest apartments of this princely mansion was the library. It contained eighty thousand volumes, without including the separate and unbound manuscripts,—if these were considered the figure exceeded a hundred thousand. No room in the palace was furnished with more splendor and extravagance. The shelves were of aromatic woods inlaid with various precious materials, such as ivory, tortoise-shell, and mother-of-pearl. The ornamentation was of gold. Enamels glittered upon the walls. The floor was composed of great slabs of white marble. In this elegant retreat the vizier, with whom the love of literature was a passion, passed no inconsiderable portion of his time. The fortune which enabled him to maintain such regal luxury was estimated at the enormous sum of five hundred thousand ducats, equal to seven million dollars of our money.

The policy of Ibn-Abbas had always been characterized by unrelenting hostility to the members of other factions. Berbers, Christians, and Jews had been repeatedly visited with decided marks of his disfavor. His representations had induced Zohair, alone of all the Arab princes, to hold aloof from the alliance formed against the Africans. Hebrews were the especial objects of his antipathy. The influence of this race, paramount in the adjacent principality of Granada, and which had at different times interfered with the accomplishment of his ambitious projects, now led indirectly to important events, seriously affecting the stability of existing institutions as well as the ultimate political destinies of the Peninsula.

Wonderfully favored by nature, as well as by the industry of a numerous population, the province of Granada early began to give evidence of that greatness which culminated in its erection into an independent and powerful kingdom. The Jews, attracted by the productiveness of its soil, the salubrity of its climate, and the mercantile advantages of its situation, had settled there in such numbers that the capital was, even before the accession of the first Abd-al-Rahman, known as a Jewish city. The financial ability and enterprise of their race had enabled them to surpass all commercial rivals, and the trade of the province eventually passed into their hands. Their wealth was beyond computation; their Semitic affiliations protected them from political outrage and religious persecution; while the experience and the abilities of their leaders were often employed by the illiterate princes who, either as vassals or petty sovereigns, occupied the throne of Granada. During the period under consideration that state was ruled by Habus, a monarch of African origin, and the influence of the Berber party was predominant and unquestioned throughout his dominions, although they contained many sympathizers with the fallen dynasty and thousands of Christian tributaries.

At the head of the Hebrews of Granada was the famous Rabbi Samuel, of the family of Levi, who enjoyed the unusual distinction of being the chief councillor of a Mussulman sovereign. Born in an humble station at Cordova, he early developed a taste for literature, and had profited to the utmost by the admirable educational facilities afforded by the schools of the capital. His diligence had been rewarded by the acquisition of vast stores of knowledge. He was an accomplished linguist, a talented poet. His conversation and his writings demonstrated his thorough acquaintance with all the learning of the time. His official correspondence, for felicity of expression and purity of diction, was the envy of the scholars of every Andalusian court. In the perfection of his chirography, he excelled the performance of experts in that art, an extraordinary attainment in an age when the greatest importance was attached to regularity in the characters and beauty in the ornamentation of books and inscriptions. The controversial works of Samuel enjoyed a high reputation among the theologians and philosophers of his sect, while his patronage of the learned and the liberality with which he rewarded the struggling efforts of aspiring genius endeared his name to every member of the commonwealth of letters. His familiarity with the most abstruse branches of science, his proficiency in rhetoric, mathematics, and astronomy were considered almost supernatural by his contemporaries. He educated at his own expense deserving but indigent youths of his nation; a number of secretaries were kept constantly employed under his direction in transcribing copies of the Talmud, to be presented to the poor; and afflicted and destitute Jews of such distant countries as Egypt, Palestine, and Persia had frequent reason to applaud the generous and charitable conduct of the Chief Rabbi of Granada.

The advancement of Samuel to a position demanding the exercise of the highest diplomatic talents, as well as the possession of extensive knowledge and a profound acquaintance with human nature, was due in a great measure to his own genius and to the reputation his abilities had already acquired. He owed nothing to the fortuitous advantages of rank or fortune. His family was poor. His ancestors could boast of no connection with either the kings of Judea or the priests of the ancient hierarchy. For years he had maintained himself by the sale of spices in a little shop in the bazaar of Malaga. An accident brought him to the notice of Al-Arif, Vizier of the King of Granada, and he became the secretary of that official, who, upon his death-bed, recommended him to his sovereign as a servant eminently worthy of confidence. The event justified the wise advice of the vizier. The rabbi of a detested race inspired the respect and received the willing homage of the proudest Arab nobles, who could not but admire the unaffected dignity with which he bore the honors of his exalted station. He was the only prime-minister of his sect mentioned in history who ever openly directed the policy of a Moslem government. Such was his unerring sagacity that one of his countrymen said that his counsels were such as might have been directly inspired by the omniscience of God. He conducted the administration of public affairs with the most consummate wisdom, and the subsequent power and grandeur of the kingdom of Granada were largely attributable to the genius of this eminent Hebrew statesman.

A spirit of rivalry, aggravated by prejudice of race and jealousy of power, had arisen between the viziers of Almeria and Granada. While Samuel sustained his claims to superiority by a dignified indifference, Ibn-Abbas endeavored to undermine and subvert the influence of the rabbi by the most dishonorable artifices that hatred could invent. But, to the mortification of the vindictive minister, his efforts proved futile. In vain he caused to be spread fictitious rumors of the avarice, the oppression, the ambitious hopes, and the meditated treachery of his rival. The confidence of both monarch and people was too well founded in the honor and integrity of Samuel to be shaken by the malicious falsehoods of an avowed enemy. In the mean time, Habus having died, an attempt was made by Ibn-Abbas to excite a revolution by espousing the pretensions of a younger son of the deceased king. But Badis, the heir-apparent, through the influence of Samuel, ascended the throne in defiance of foreign interference and internal discord. The first act of Badis, influenced probably by the suggestions of his politic adviser,—for Samuel continued to enjoy the favor and confidence of the son in the same degree that he had formerly done under the father,—was an attempt at reconciliation with Zohair, prince of Almeria. The latter affected to receive these proposals with pleasure, and then, suddenly, without the consent required by the law of nations, having traversed at the head of an armed escort the territory of his neighbor, appeared before the walls of his capital. The flagrant discourtesy of this act was overlooked by the angry and astonished host in his desire for harmony. Zohair and his companions were entertained with becoming hospitality; and the Arab Emir was dazzled by the splendors of a palace which stood on the site afterwards to be occupied by the peerless Alhambra. But the prince of Almeria, forgetting the amenities demanded by his position, bore himself with insufferable arrogance; the members of his train assumed an air of insolent superiority which aroused the indignation of the court and the people; while the vizier, whose pride seemed to have mastered his sense of official propriety, conducted himself without regard to the consequences certain to result from the resentment of an infuriated enemy. After a few days of ineffectual negotiation, the conference was abruptly concluded; and Zohair and his retinue departed, only to fall into an ambuscade which the outraged Granadans had prepared for them in the depths of the sierra. The most heroic valor availed but little in the presence of overwhelming odds; the possibility of escape was effectually removed by the precipices and gorges of a mountain solitude; and the prince with most of his followers perished upon the weapons of the Berber soldiery or were hurled into ravines whose depths were shrouded in perpetual darkness. Of those who survived, the soldiers were beheaded; and the court dignitaries, who were classed as non-combatants, were released, with a single exception. Ibn-Abbas, after enduring the taunts of an ungenerous and triumphant foe, was loaded with heavy fetters and thrown into a dungeon. His pathetic appeals for mercy were unheeded by the ferocious Badis. He vainly tried to tempt the cupidity of his jailers with the offer of a bribe of sixty thousand ducats. In accordance with the ruthless customs of mediæval barbarity, the captive minister was dragged in chains before the throne and pierced with the sword-thrusts of the monarch and his courtiers until life was extinct. Thus perished the accomplished Ibn-Abbas through the consequences of his own temerity, and with him was removed one of the greatest obstacles of both national unity and Berber ambition.

Before the inhabitants of Almeria had recovered from the consternation caused by the death of their sovereign, his domains were appropriated by the Emir of Valencia. This step, perhaps advised by the astute Kadi of Seville, at all events greatly strengthened the power of that dignitary by extending the domain of a vassal of the pretended Hischem and removing all prospect of the accession of another dangerous enemy. This fortunate circumstance having relieved his apprehensions of disturbance from the successors of Zohair, the wily Abul-Kasim began to carry his insidious operations into the court of Granada. The employment of spies, some of whom occupied high official positions, made this enterprising statesman intimately acquainted with the secret transactions of every Divan in the Peninsula. His emissaries at Granada, while informing him of the discontent prevailing in that city on account of the tyranny and habitual intoxication of the King, which kept the people in constant alarm, also communicated the opinion that it would not be difficult, by means of an insurrection, to bring the entire principality under the jurisdiction of Seville. To insure success for this notable enterprise a competent leader was required, a task of little difficulty in a country long accustomed to revolution and swarming with able and unscrupulous men. There lived at this time at Granada a prominent personage named Abu-al-Fotuh, who combined the rather inconsistent professions of a soldier of fortune and a peripatetic philosopher. A native of Djordjan, on the shores of the Caspian,—the Hyrcania of the ancients,—the affluent circumstances of his family had provided for him an excellent education, and he was well versed in all the learning of the East. Not only was he remarkably proficient in grammar and astronomy, but the occult sciences were the objects of his especial predilection. A recognized authority on geomancy and astrology, he was regarded with awe by the vulgar, who thought that they detected in his habits and occupations evidence of communication with the mysterious powers of the unseen world. This popular impression his interests engaged him to confirm by every artifice of perverted ingenuity. His house was secluded from observation, and contained a well-equipped laboratory, whose caldrons and alembics were firmly believed by his neighbors to be implements devoted to the unlawful practice of magic. In his dress and his manners he affected an air of profound mystery and reserve. His garments were embroidered with cabalistic symbols. His staff was entwined with serpents. In public he maintained a taciturnity unusual with his voluble race, a trait too often accepted by the thoughtless multitude as an indication of superior wisdom. The scientific acquirements and literary tastes of this remarkable individual did not deter him from adopting for his pecuniary benefit the most disreputable arts of the charlatan. His mansion was daily visited by crowds eager to learn the prognostications of the future derived from the casting of horoscopes and the study of the stars. Officials of distinguished rank were included among his patrons; royalty itself did not disdain to interrogate the oracles of destiny; and the relations of this learned impostor with the King of Granada, embellished by the genius of an accomplished writer, form the subject of one of the most fascinating tales in the English language. Although his present occupations were those of peace, the years of Abu-al-Fotuh had not been passed entirely amidst the uneventful routine of a sedentary life. He was a daring horseman, well skilled in all the martial exercises of the age; a soldier bearing upon his person the scars of honorable wounds received in battle; a general whose coolness and intrepidity had been tested by the perils of many a campaign. Such was the leader selected by the aspiring Abul-Kasim to overturn the throne of the dissolute and unpopular King of Granada.

The attractions of political intrigue obtained the mastery over philosophical maxims and worldly experience in the mind of Abu-al-Fotuh, and he embraced with ardor the proposals of the Kadi of Seville. He secretly represented to Yahya, a cousin of Badis, that the present conjunction of the planets was unusually favorable to his fortunes, inasmuch as the calculations of astrology indicated the speedy death of the sovereign and the promotion of his relative to the honors and prerogatives of the crown. The vanity and the hopes of a thoughtless prince were excited by this announcement so authoritatively conveyed, and he willingly accepted a responsibility which seemed to have received the sanction of heaven. The discontent of the people was sedulously fomented; the support of a number of disaffected nobles was secured; and the ramifications of a formidable plot soon began to extend to every corner of the city and the province. Unfortunately for the success of their scheme, the conspirators had failed to take into consideration the sagacity and vigilance of the Jewish vizier. The suspicious movements of well-known malcontents could not long escape the observation of his spies. The plot was betrayed; and the ringleaders, escaping with some difficulty the vengeance of Badis, fled to Seville. Enraged by the interference of a stranger in the affairs of his kingdom, an appeal of the Lord of Carmona to Badis and to Edris of Malaga was made an opportune pretext for the chastisement of the presumptuous ruler of Seville. The hostile armies met near Ecija. The Sevillians, commanded by Ismail, the son of the Kadi, were defeated; and the sorrow of the catastrophe was aggravated by the death of the youthful general, who, in a short but brilliant career of arms, had displayed talents and resources worthy of an experienced veteran. Solicitude for the safety of his wife and children, unprotected in the power of his indignant sovereign, induced Abu-al-Fotuh soon after the battle to throw himself upon the generosity of a tyrant whose deafness to every appeal for mercy was notorious and proverbial. With a diabolical refinement of cruelty, Badis, through an effectual display of compassion, raised in the mind of the unfortunate captive fallacious hopes of a speedy deliverance. Conducted to Granada rather with the ceremony due to a guest than with the restraint imposed upon a prisoner, as soon as the gate of the city was reached the courtesy of the guard was abruptly changed into insult and violence, and Abu-al-Fotuh received the ignominious treatment of a common malefactor. His head was shaved; he was lashed upon the back of a camel; and the driver of the animal, followed by a guard of slaves, scourged the victim relentlessly, while the procession exhibiting this suggestive example of royal justice traversed with deliberate steps, and amidst the jeers of the populace, the principal thoroughfares of the city. After submitting to this punishment, Abu-al-Fotuh was cast into prison, and a few days afterwards underwent the same fate the vizier of Almeria had endured, and was buried by the side of that rash but accomplished statesman.

I have described somewhat at length the personal characteristics of the men who, in the troublous times which followed the dismemberment of the khalifate, either attained to power or perished in unsuccessful attempts to subvert the existing authority of the state, in order to call the attention of the reader to the high standard of intelligence and education demanded of a leader of the people. The day had long since gone by when an illiterate faqui, no matter how eminently gifted by nature with oratorical powers, could direct the blind and headstrong passions of the multitude. The possession of great talents and great learning was indispensable for the acquisition of political influence and the management of important national enterprises. The education of the masses, even in a country for nearly half a century distracted by sedition, was too far advanced to permit the successful exercise of the arts of the ignorant demagogue. Without the accidental distinction of birth, no individual, no matter how commanding his abilities or how thorough his qualifications for office, could ever hope to secure the co-operation of the proud Arab nobility. Nowhere, since the decadence of Attic splendor, had so many men of varied talents and literary accomplishments risen to political distinction as in the closing years of the Hispano-Arab empire in Spain. No circumstances could well be imagined more unfavorable to intellectual advancement. The entire country was unsettled. Property was insecure. Revolutions were frequent. The services of nearly every able-bodied man were liable to be required at any moment for the protection of the existing government. The tranquillity so essential to the full exercise of the mental faculties in literary pursuits was, under such conditions, absolutely unattainable. Yet, although beset by such formidable difficulties, the genius of Arab culture continued to sustain the high reputation which it had gained under the khalifate. The popular system of education still preserved, amidst manifold interruptions, the standard of excellence by which it had formerly been distinguished. Each principality became a centre of learning, and, in friendly emulation, endeavored to surpass the scientific achievements of its neighbors. The Arabian society of the Peninsula, having thus inherited and preserved the progressive spirit, the noble traditions, and the literary tastes of the khalifate, was enabled to long retain the undisputed intellectual supremacy of Europe.

Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, the Kadi of Seville, died in that city in 1042, after a reign of more than twenty years. Although never formally vested with the supreme authority, he had, since the dethronement of Yahya, practically exercised the functions of an absolute sovereign. His son, Abbad, whose designation of Motadhid is that by which he is best known to history, ascended the throne as the minister of the mat-maker Khalaf, who, still fraudulently representing the imperial dignity of the Ommeyades, continued to pass his days in indolence and luxury, while the family of the Beni-Abbad, through the serviceable agency of his imposture, was making rapid progress towards the acquisition of despotic power. Motadhid was a prince of excellent parts which had been improved by assiduous study; but his temperament was fierce and sensual; his ungovernable rage made him the terror of the city; and, in the indulgence of his vices and the prosecution of his ambition, he recognized neither the ties of kindred, the obligations of hospitality, the faith of treaties, nor the law of nations. He wrote verses far superior in quality to those usually produced by royal authors. Even the bacchanalian poems of his hours of dissipation were distinguished for the ingenuity of their conceits, the elegance of their diction, and the delicacy of their sentiments. His patronage of learning has served to compensate, in a measure, for the crimes which have blackened his character in the eyes of posterity. The taste displayed in some of his compositions is not surpassed by that of any of the most elaborate productions of Arabian genius which have descended to our times. One of the most striking peculiarities of Motadhid was his taciturnity. He had no confidants. He never betrayed, by word or gesture, the thoughts that were passing through his mind. His designs were formed and carried into execution with a skill and a success which argued not only unusual powers of invention and combination, but a profound acquaintance with the weaknesses and the inconsistencies of human nature. In his personal habits, he was one of the most licentious and brutal princes of his century. A skeptic in religion, it was said that he believed in nothing but astrology and wine. His orgies were the reproach of the court and the horror of the capital. His fits of intoxication lasted for days, and in his capacity to consume large quantities of wine he far exceeded the most seasoned and strong-headed of his boon companions. “To drink at dawn is a religious dogma, and whoever does not believe in it is a Pagan,” was one of his favorite maxims. An ardent admirer of beauty, he caused the slave-markets of Europe and Asia to be searched for the most attractive specimens of female loveliness, and his harem contained eight hundred concubines, selected for their extraordinary charms. The implacable animosity of Motadhid was rarely assuaged by the completion of vengeance; it demanded the preservation of mementos by which he might recall with ferocious pleasure the fate of a hated and formidable enemy. The skulls of such as had perished in rebellion or by the sword of the executioner, as well as of those of hostile officers who had fallen in battle, were all preserved. The garden of his palace was lined with rows of these melancholy and suggestive trophies, in which he caused to be planted flowers of brilliant colors and delightful fragrance. Each skull was polished to a snowy whiteness, and bore upon a label the name and the offence of its former owner. In a casket among his treasures were preserved similar memorials of the princes who had succumbed to the superior fortune of his arms. These were adorned with a splendor which attested the value attached to them by their possessor as evidences of victory. They were set in gold; in the sockets, once brightened with the flashing of the human eye, the cold glitter of the diamond arrested the glance of the horrified observer; and around the temples was inserted a row of precious stones of various colors,—sapphires, rubies, hyacinths, and emeralds. These souvenirs of blood and cruelty always imparted fresh inspiration to the mind of Motadhid, and the most joyous as well as the most pathetic of his verses were composed while in their contemplation.

The agents and spies of Motadhid were to be found in every country and in every court. Nowhere was even the fugitive who had incurred the enmity of the tyrant safe from his vengeance. In Seville lived a blind citizen of great wealth. His possessions provoked the avarice of the prince, and he unceremoniously appropriated the greater portion of them. The victim having lost the remainder, and being reduced to penury, travelled, dependent upon charity, as a pilgrim to Mecca. To all who would listen, he told the story of his wrongs, and declaimed against the injustice of the ruler of Seville both in the Mosque and in the public places of the Holy City.

In the course of time his denunciations were reported to Motadhid. The latter caused to be prepared a bronze casket, in which were placed a number of pieces of gold that had been covered with a deadly volatile poison. As the pilgrims were leaving to join the annual caravan to Mecca, Motadhid caused one of them, in whom he could confide, to be brought before him, and gave him the casket.

“When thou hast entered the Holy City,” said he, “seek out the person whose name is inscribed hereon, and present this to him with my compliments. But be sure not to open the casket or evil will befall thee.”

On his arrival the messenger had little difficulty in finding the blind beggar, who was accustomed each day, before the Great Mosque, to revile the name and recount the crimes of his oppressor.

“Friend,” said the Andalusian, “behold a gift which our Lord the Prince of Seville hath charged me to deliver to you. Receive it with joy, for methinks it is of great value.”

The blind man took the casket and shook it. “By the beard of the Prophet, it contains gold!” he cried. “But why hath Motadhid sent me this, after having reduced me to poverty and driven me into exile?”

“I know not,” responded the other. “It may be a royal caprice; it may be the fruit of remorse. In any event, rejoice in thy good fortune.”

“Thanks for thy kindness, and do not fail to convey to the Prince the assurance of my appreciation of his generosity,” said the beggar, as he departed to grope his way through the street leading to the wretched lodging which public charity had bestowed upon him.

Opening the fatal casket, he poured the gold into his lap. He counted it, fondled it, embraced it, with all the rapture of one who long accustomed to abject poverty is suddenly raised to affluence.

But a few moments elapsed before the fumes of the poison produced their effect; a convulsive shudder racked his frame, and the victim of Motadhid’s hatred fell forward upon his treasure—a corpse.

The military operations of Motadhid were characterized by great energy and unusual success. At the very outset of his reign, he was attacked by a coalition of Berber princes. Marching towards the west, he desolated the territories of Modhaffer, Emir of Badajoz, the soul of the hostile league. In a battle which followed, Modhaffer sustained a decisive defeat, and a considerable number of the inhabitants of his capital were killed and captured. The son of Mohammed, Emir of Carmona, perished in this engagement, and his skull, duly bleached and labelled and embellished with gold and jewels, was deposited by the side of its grinning predecessors in the unique casket of the Prince of Seville. Peace was finally adjusted between these two petty sovereigns through the intervention of Ibn-Djahwar, ruler of Cordova, who, in these sanguinary struggles, although his sympathies were with the opponents of the Berbers, maintained a politic neutrality. His most formidable enemy disposed of, Motadhid attacked and conquered in detail the little states of Huelva, Silves, and Santa-Maria. The extreme South of the Peninsula was at that time in the hands of the Berbers. To such a commanding position had the principality of Seville now attained, that the African lords of Andalusia acknowledged the title and the supremacy of the false Hischem, and paid tribute to the government he pretended to control. The cupidity and ambition of Motadhid were aroused by the sight of this fertile domain lying at his very door. He determined to secure the prize by artifice, this method being more congenial to his politic genius than the expensive and uncertain result of an appeal to arms. The states of Ronda and Moron, the most important and accessible, he selected as the object of his first attempt. Relying upon the doubtful faith of his tributaries, and accompanied by only four attendants, he boldly placed himself in the power of the Berber chieftains. He was received with the greatest courtesy and kindness, and while he was being feasted at the palace, his followers, who had been selected for their acuteness and proficiency in all the arts of deception, mingled in disguise with the people and ascertained their sentiments towards the ruling powers. The information obtained was most favorable to the plans of Motadhid. Under a delusive appearance of contentment a wide-spread hatred of the African domination was found to exist; and, by a judicious distribution of the gold with which they were provided, his attendants experienced no difficulty in purchasing the support of a number of influential officials, through whose assistance, at the designated time, the strongholds of the two Berber sovereigns were to be betrayed. Amidst the repeated and prolonged festivities to which his visit had given rise, the ability of Motadhid to resist the intoxicating fumes of wine stood him in good stead among revellers whose convivial propensities and experience were fully equal to his own. In the midst of a prolonged debauch immediately preceding his intended departure, the crafty prince pretended to be overcome with sleep. As soon as his heavy breathing indicated loss of consciousness, his perfidious hosts began to discuss, deliberately and in whispers, the propriety of his assassination. The infamy of this proposal, sufficiently flagitious of itself, was increased by the fact that among the Berbers, as well as the Arabs, hospitality was regarded as the most noble of virtues, and the person of a guest who had eaten at the board of his entertainer was, for the time being, inviolably sacred. The few moral sensibilities originally possessed by the Berbers had, however, amidst the commotion of incessant conflict and through familiarity with the insidious artifices constantly employed by the mixed and demoralized population of the Peninsula, been effectually destroyed. According to the unscrupulous maxims of their policy universally entertained and constantly practised, considerations of present expediency far outweighed the obligations of social courtesy or the dictates of personal honor. The opportunity of delivering themselves at a single blow and without personal risk from the most powerful and implacable enemy of their race was too fortunate and unexpected to be sacrificed to a mere question of casuistry or sentiment by men long habituated to deeds of treachery and violence. Of all the assemblage only one, Moadh-Ibn-Abi-Corra, a youth of the most distinguished rank, had the principle and the courage to remonstrate. The indignant reproaches of their young companion, not yet sufficiently practised in duplicity and crime to overcome the impulses of a noble and generous nature, prevailed over the base resolve of the other princes, and realizing, in spite of their blunted faculties, the flagrant enormity of the project, they quietly abandoned it. While the discussion involving the fate of Motadhid was being conducted, the self-control of the latter was subjected to a far more severe strain than it had ever before been called upon to endure. His drowsiness had been assumed as a convenient ruse. By its means he had hoped to become acquainted with the prejudices and the designs of his turbulent vassals heedlessly betrayed in moments of conviviality. But he was entirely unprepared for the revelations which fell upon his astonished ears. Aware that the slightest indication of consciousness would only precipitate the blow, he maintained, with a simulated calmness incredible under the circumstances, the appearance of a profound slumber. Finally he arose and resumed his place at the banquet. Not a tremor of voice, not an agitation of muscle, disclosed the ordeal he had just undergone. His marvellous self-command easily imposed upon his unsuspecting hosts, who, partly from policy, partly from remorse, now overwhelmed with assiduous attentions the guest whom their deliberate malice had but a moment before been ready to consign to a violent death.

The prince took his departure amidst mutual expressions of esteem which, inspired by the profound dissimulation of both parties, seemed to promise the most amicable intercourse for the future between suzerain and vassal. The satisfaction of the Berbers was soon increased by the arrival of messengers from Motadhid charged with the delivery of costly and beautiful gifts as tokens of the appreciative friendship of their sovereign. Several months elapsed; assurances of amity continued to be reciprocally transmitted between the palaces of Seville and Ronda, until, by every plausible artifice, the unsuspicious Berbers were lulled into delusive security. Then the governors of Ronda, Moron, and Xeres were invited, with much ceremony, to partake of the hospitality of Motadhid. Their attendants increased the party to the number of sixty persons, splendidly mounted and equipped; and the gay cavalcade was welcomed at the gates of Seville with the cordial greetings of the prince and the acclamations of the people. Among Moslems the first courtesy extended to a guest is the offer of a bath. It therefore excited no suspicion among the Berber nobles when they were conducted—with the single exception of Moadh, who, in the momentary confusion, was, for the time, designedly separated from his companions—into a series of magnificent vaulted chambers, whose walls were encased with precious marbles, whose windows were formed of painted glass, and whose floors and ceilings sparkled with exquisite mosaics. In order to enjoy freedom from all restraint, their own slaves attended them. The intolerable and increasing heat caused the latter before long to attempt to open the door. They found it fastened; by dint of superhuman effort it was finally broken down, but behind it, as if by magic, had arisen a massive wall of masonry; egress was seen to be impossible; and the meditated treachery of the Africans was fearfully avenged. The next day sixty steaming corpses were taken out of the bath, whose apartments had been heated to a temperature far exceeding that ordinarily maintained in an oven. The power of the Berber faction was hopelessly impaired; a new terror invested the name of the sanguinary Motadhid; and an unusual number of grisly but precious and long-coveted trophies was deposited in the charnel-like caskets preserved among the treasures of the palace.

The anxiety and suspicions of Moadh had been aroused by his evidently preconcerted separation from his friends. When their fate was announced to him, it required all the address and condescension Motadhid could command to soothe his grief and remove his apprehensions. His inestimable service to the prince during the banquet at Ronda was recalled, and he was informed that the reward of his noble championship of the laws of hospitality which had saved the life of his guest was at hand. A splendid mansion was set apart for him in the most aristocratic quarter of the city. As an earnest of his future generosity, Motadhid presented him at once with ten horses and an equal number of eunuchs, thirty beautiful girls, and a purse of a thousand dinars. Scarcely a day passed without revealing some new token of the attachment of his benefactor. His precocious abilities, no less than the favor of the monarch, procured for him the respectful admiration of the court. His opinion was heard with attention in the Divan. He was appointed to a high command in the army. The expenses of his household, which vied in magnificence with those of the most opulent nobles, were defrayed by an annual salary of twelve thousand pieces of gold. The partiality of Motadhid was further evinced by the frequent bestowal of costly presents, whose rarity and workmanship doubly enhanced their value. In the brilliant society of the Sevillian court no one was superior in rank, public estimation, or popular influence to the young and talented Berber chieftain.

The demoralization which followed the death of their leaders, aided by the corruption previously employed by Motadhid, gave him almost immediate possession of the Berber strongholds. Arcos, Xeres, and Moron surrendered without delay. The resistance of Ronda threatened to be serious on account of its natural strength and the predominance of the African population, but as soon as the troops of Motadhid appeared the citizens of the other races—Arab, Jew, and Christian—rose in rebellion; the Berbers were cut to pieces; the gates were thrown open; and the strongest fortress of Andalusia was added to the principality of Seville.

The news of the terrible fate of the Berber princes was heard with undisguised consternation by the King of Granada. His own unpopularity and the disaffection of his subjects were well known to him. The great number of Arabs and infidels in his dominions was an incessant menace to the stability of his throne, now rendered less secure than ever through the example of Ronda; and even the resource of habitual intoxication could not make him forget the catastrophe which, at that very moment, might be impending. Tortured by frightful suspicions, he determined to remove at one blow all the Arabs in the capital. For the accomplishment of this atrocious deed, he selected Friday, when the Moslems would be assembled at service in the mosque, the commission of such a sacrilege being a matter of indifference then compared with the greater crime. In vain the Vizier Samuel, to whom the design had been communicated, attempted to represent its folly. The King was inexorable. Then the Jew took measures to warn the chief personages of the Arab party. In consequence of this, on the appointed day, the great Moslem temple, usually crowded with worshippers, was almost deserted. It was evident that the bloody project had been betrayed, and the King, having become convinced of the dreadful evils it must inevitably produce, was finally prevailed upon to relinquish it.

Not long afterwards the wise counsellor, whose commanding abilities had almost caused the prejudice against his nation to be forgotten, died. His son, Joseph, a man of finished education and more than ordinary talents, inherited the honors but not the influence of his father. His haughty behavior, the magnificence of his dress, the number and pomp of his retinue, which equalled that of Badis himself, provoked the envy of all classes. Moslems and Jews alike were appalled by his blasphemous speeches. He was more than suspected of apostasy from the religion of Moses, and was so imprudent as to publicly hold up to derision the doctrines of the Koran. It was determined by the enemies of the young minister, whose power over the King was unbounded, to make his unpopularity the excuse for the plunder of the members of his sect, whose wealth had long excited the cupidity of the populace of Granada. In furtherance of this plan, the vilest calumnies were invented concerning him. Impossible crimes were attributed to the promptings of his malignity and injustice. He was accused of a secret understanding with the Prince of Almeria, an enemy of Badis; and the public mind having been inflamed by the publication of satirical poems which depicted in exaggerated terms the dishonesty and rapacity of the Jews, the detested vizier was finally seized in the royal palace by an infuriated mob and crucified. Four thousand unhappy Hebrews were involved in the ruin of their countryman, and paid the forfeit attaching to successful thrift and a proscribed nationality. Their palaces were occupied and their property appropriated by the assassins; and Jewish supremacy in a Mohammedan state, a condition heretofore without precedent in the history of Islam, was forever abolished in the Kingdom of Granada.

The designs of Motadhid had been accomplished by the acquisition of the greater part of Andalusia, and, as no further advantage could possibly accrue to his power by longer maintaining a fraud, he publicly announced the death of the pretended Hischem II. Whether this event, which under the circumstances was politically of little importance, was hastened by his own instrumentality is unknown. At all events the obsequies of the impostor were conducted with regal magnificence, and by a will he was alleged to have written was bequeathed to the hajib the once splendid legacy of the Ommeyade empire.

Fortune, which had hitherto so singularly favored the ambition of Motadhid, seemed now to avert her face from him. His eldest son, Ismail, twice rebelled against his authority, and, having attempted to storm the palace, was taken and died by the hand of his enraged and merciless father. Motamid, his second son, lost the city and state of Malaga, which he had captured, through his own negligence and the want of discipline prevailing among his troops, who were surprised and routed by the King of Granada.

The dominion of Abd-al-Aziz, Emir of Valencia, over Almeria was terminated in 1041 by the rebellion of his vassal, Abu-al-Ahwac-Man, of the tribe of Somadih. Under his son Motasim, the latter principality became famous throughout the Moslem world for the literary accomplishments of its sovereign and the intellectual culture and exquisite courtesy of its people. Motasim was an enthusiastic patron of the arts. His court was the resort of the learned of every land. There the science of the khalifate, expelled by barbarians, found a hospitable welcome. There the scholars of Granada, refugees from Berber tyranny, pursued their studies in peace. There the faquis of different sects discussed in amicable rivalry their doctrines in the presence of the throne. The monarch was the model of every princely virtue. He strove to revive the simple, patriarchal customs of the Desert. He dispensed justice with an impartial yet with a merciful hand. Like others of his race, he made poets the especial recipients of his bounty. Many of them obtained more than a provincial celebrity. Scarcely less honored and popular were the professors of science. Physicians, chemists, and natural philosophers occupy a high rank in the annals of his reign. Abu-Obeyd-Bekri, the most distinguished geographer of Moorish Spain, was a resident of Almeria.

The Christian states of the North, for fifty years torn by internal dissensions, were now united under the sceptre of Ferdinand. The kingdoms of Leon and Castile had been consolidated, and, the differences of the more insignificant principalities being adjusted, the attention of the Christians was again directed to the disunited and helpless members of the khalifate. From this time forth the war against the Moslem was destined to assume the character of a crusade, and hostilities to be seldom suspended until the last bulwark of Islam in the West had fallen and the Cross had been raised upon the towers of the Alhambra.

The progress made by Ferdinand soon disclosed the weakness of his adversaries. Badajoz, Lamego, and Visera fell before his arms. The Emir of Saragossa was forced to abandon all the towns beyond the Douro. The banners of the Castilian army were seen from the walls of Alcala de Henares, in the dominions of Mamun, Emir of Toledo. To preserve his cities from destruction, the latter consented to pay an incredible ransom of money and jewels, which impoverished his treasury, and, with the lords of Saragossa and Badajoz, at once acknowledged the suzerainty of the Christian king. The vanguard of the latter soon appeared in the territory of Seville, and the proud Motadhid, aware of the futility of resistance, sued for peace. It was granted in consideration of an enormous tribute and the delivery of the body of St. Justa, a martyr whose sacrifice was alleged to date as far back as the Roman domination. The bishops of Leon and Astorga were sent at the head of an imposing embassy to receive the relics of the saint. Unfortunately, these could not be identified, and the pious brethren, unwilling to return empty handed, by means of a miraculous vision discovered and obtained a far more valuable prize,—the body of St. Isidore, of Seville. Motadhid affected great sorrow at being compelled to part with such a treasure. With a view to future profit in the trade of similar commodities, he reverentially threw over the bier a magnificent robe of embroidered silk, and, much to the delight of the prelates, who saw with undisguised astonishment the salutary effect produced on the mind of an infidel by the mouldering bones of a Father of the Church, parted from the escort at the gate of the city with many simulated expressions of sorrow and a flood of hypocritical tears. Covering his face with his mantle, his voice choked with sobs, this interesting example of royal piety exclaimed, to the profound edification of the weeping bystanders: “Farewell, Isidore! Farewell, most holy man! Thou knowest what a close intimacy had always existed between us!”

With each year, with every season even, the Christian banners continued to move steadily southward. The resources of the divided Moslem empire could no longer oppose a concerted resistance to their advance. The most powerful Moorish princes of the Peninsula were already the tributaries of Ferdinand. Coimbra had been taken, and nearly all of what is included within the limits of modern Portugal was in his hands. Vast districts of the subjugated territory were systematically depopulated by enforced emigration. The inhabitants of the captured cities were in many instances also driven into exile, and where a prolonged resistance had exasperated the conquerors, the lands, the effects, and the seraglios of the wealthiest citizens were seized, often in infringement of the terms of capitulation. Establishing themselves in their new possessions, the rude cavaliers of Castile and the Asturias carried the boisterous manners and brutal tastes of the swineherd and the mountaineer into the splendid abodes of Moorish art and luxury.

The states of Valencia and Malaga, owing to the political imbecility of their rulers, had descended to a position greatly inferior to that to which they were entitled by reason of their commercial and agricultural resources. In the division of the khalifate, Valencia had been retained by Abd-al-Aziz, the grandson of Al-Mansur, who, during the subsequent disturbances, was the acknowledged head of the Amiride faction. Gifted with rare talents for administration and command, his indolence and love of pleasure counteracted these great natural advantages, and his son, Abd-al-Melik, who succeeded him, possessed all his indisposition to exertion, without his abilities. The city of Valencia, invested by Ferdinand, proved too strong for his efforts, but by a feigned retreat he lured the garrison and the citizens outside the walls and into an ambuscade. The delightful climate of that province, the garden of Andalusia, has never been propitious to the creation of a race of warriors, and the effeminate Valencians, who had donned their holiday attire in expectation of a triumph, expired almost without resistance under the weapons of the Christian knights. Resuming the siege, Ferdinand was attacked by illness, and soon after returned to Leon to die. His adversary Motadhid, whose crafty and unscrupulous policy had founded upon the ruins of the khalifate a kingdom more imposing in its dimensions than remarkable for its military strength, soon followed him to the grave.

Malaga, governed by the Edrisites, was long a centre of Berber influence. Its lords, also enervated by the temptations of a tropical climate, to the disgust of their martial followers, suffered their lives to pass in inglorious ease until their domain was finally absorbed by the growing power of Granada.

Attracted by the fame of a crusade, by the hope of eternal salvation, and by the more immediate prospect of worldly advantage, crowds of European adventurers now poured into the Peninsula. Among these a body of Normans, under William de Montreuil, laid siege to Barbastro, a populous frontier town of Aragon. Their valor eventually carried the day, and after a gallant defence the place was surrendered under articles of capitulation. Scarcely had the Normans entered, before these were repudiated; the garrison was surrounded and killed; six thousand of the citizens were massacred outside the walls, and the remainder were doomed to slavery. The atrocities practised by these Christian barbarians seem incredible. Such was the amount of booty, that an inferior officer is said to have received as his share five hundred loads of merchandise and fifteen hundred maidens. In the general division, as was customary, the master with his household and possessions were delivered to the fortunate soldier, who at once proceeded, by ingenious tortures, to insult the distress of his victim and inflict upon him exquisite pain in order to compel the discovery of hidden treasure. The female members of his family were violated in his presence. His body was plunged into boiling oil. He was hacked with swords and battle-axes and his limbs were slowly wasted by fire. The inhumanities which attended the capture of Barbastro are hardly paralleled in any of the bloody annals which recount the crusading exploits of Christian Europe.

During the period of universal anarchy that succeeded the disruption of the khalifate, it is only the larger principalities which, either on account of greater political influence or more advanced conditions of civilization, are worthy of the notice of the historian. An innumerable number of insignificant states arose upon the ruins of that splendid monarchy. Every wali of a district, every governor of a city, aspired to the pomp and consequence of an independent sovereign. A few of these escaped the ruin which overwhelmed their less fortunate countrymen. Others were conquered by the Andalusian princes. The domain of others was forcibly incorporated into the fast-growing monarchy of Castile. With all war was the rule and peace the exception. In the North, the Africans, banished thither by the khalifs for their turbulence and encouraged by the proximity of the Christians whose alliance had often encouraged them to defy the edicts of the court of Cordova, had long been practically independent. In the South, Berber adventurers, incited by the success of Al-Mansur, indulged unmolested their natural propensity to robbery and murder. In Valencia and Granada, the Slaves, whose rapacity was under the early khalifs the reproach of the government, predominated in numbers, wealth, and in influence. In the provinces of Estremadura and the Algarves, the Arabs maintained their ancient and hereditary pride and insubordination. None of these factions were united under a single head. They were split up into a score of bodies, acknowledging temporarily the authority of some petty chieftain, and entertaining as much animosity against their neighbors as they cherished towards their national enemies. The mutual jealousies of these obscure rulers were sedulously inflamed by the politic Christians, who never refused to promote, by supplies of men and money, the quarrels which were constantly undermining the Moslem power in the Peninsula.

Thus political demoralization, impelled both by internal discord and foreign interference, went steadily on. National unity was unknown to the Arabs, with whom the largest measure of personal liberty was the rule of public as well as of private life. That principle of cohesion which binds communities together by the ties of common interest was not recognized in a society where each man considered he had an inalienable right, based upon immemorial prescription and the traditions of the Desert, to plunder his neighbor. Even the greatest of the Ommeyade khalifs were hated by the people. Their lives were never safe. Their persons were constantly guarded by armed foreigners,—Christian Mamelukes, Berber mercenaries, African eunuchs. Fear alone maintained their authority. Their subjects were ignorant of loyalty, patriotism, public spirit, or national honor. The victories of these princes might dazzle the populace. Their liberality might for the moment secure the attachment of the army. The erection of magnificent houses of worship might elicit the applause of the devout; but the possession of the most noble qualities availed nothing in the hour of disaster. The prestige of a distinguished name, the memory of splendid exploits, the sight of grand architectural monuments, the omnipresent culture of a great people, were trifles in the eyes of the Arab bent on blood-revenge, or of the Berber savage with the prospect of the booty of a palace like that of the Medina-al-Zahrâ before him. The rottenness of the Moslem system was disclosed by the death of Al-Mansur. He was the most illustrious captain who ever led the armies of Islam to battle. He was the greatest potentate in Europe. In a quarter of a century of constant warfare no reverses had ever diminished his popularity or tarnished his renown. To all appearances, his power, nominally the power of the khalifate, was established upon an enduring and impregnable basis. Yet he was hardly in his grave before the imposing fabric of the Moorish empire crumbled into dust, and with it disappeared forever the grandeur, the glory, and the civilization of three hundred eventful years.

CHAPTER XVII
WARS WITH THE CHRISTIANS, THE ALMORAVIDES
1044–1121

Dissensions in Castile—Alfonso the Guest of the Emir of Toledo—Civilization of that Moorish Capital—Motamid, Prince of Seville—His Prodigality—-Valencia and Murcia become subject to Mamun—Motamid takes Seville—Military Genius of Alfonso VI.—The Famous Game of Chess—Siege of Toledo—Capitulation of that City—Depredations of Bands of Outlaws—Danger and Distress of the Moslems—Rise of the Almoravides—Their Fanaticism and Prowess—They conquer Northern Africa—The Spanish Emirs appeal to Yusuf—He crosses the Strait—Rout of the Christians at Zallaca—Second Expedition of Yusuf—His Popularity—He claims the Sovereignty of the Peninsula—The Cid: His Character and His Exploits—He serves the Emir of Saragossa—He obtains Control of Valencia—Revolt and Siege of that City—Cruelties of the Cid—Death of Yusuf—Greatness of the Almoravide Empire—Accession of Ali—Demoralization of the Conquerors.

The temporary union of the Christian powers under Ferdinand I., which had so effectually demonstrated the weakness of the Moorish states of the Peninsula and had conferred such distinction on the Castilian arms, was followed by a series of domestic misfortunes culminating in civil war, seriously threatening the stability of the newly founded kingdom, and affording the Moslems an opportunity for recuperation by which they unfortunately had no longer either the energy or the capacity to profit. Ferdinand’s impolitic testamentary disposition of his dominions among his children indicated an amiable weakness, which, while it might be deserving of praise in a private individual, was discreditable to the experience and political foresight of a sovereign. With the public sanction of the nobles, his kingdom was divided into three portions, of which his son Sancho received Castile and a part of what is now Aragon; Alfonso, Leon and the Asturias; and Garcia, Galicia and the Portuguese conquests. To his daughters, Urraca and Elvira, were assigned respectively the cities of Zamora and Toro. As was inevitable, ambition and discontent with this arrangement eventually produced consequences fatal to the interests of the crown. Hostilities first broke out between Sancho and Alfonso with indecisive results. Then they mutually agreed to stake their kingdoms on the result of a single battle. Fortune favored the cause of Alfonso, and, with a clemency unusual in that age, his followers were not permitted even to pursue the routed Castilians, who, by the conditions of the compact, had become the subjects of the victor.

At this time first appears in history the name of a personage whose exploits, for the most part fabulous, have acquired for him a renown not inferior to that enjoyed by the demigods of antiquity,—Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, popularly known as the Cid and the Campeador. His origin was illustrious, for he could trace his lineage to one of the noblest houses of Castile, one of whose members more than a century before had stood high in the councils of the nation, while his own courage and address had been conspicuous in the contests recently inaugurated by the rival aspirants for supremacy, as well as in campaigns against the infidel. He was one of the most trusted adherents of Sancho, and occupied the responsible position of second in command in the Castilian army. His unprincipled adroitness now revived by an outrageous violation of faith the desperate fortunes of his sovereign. The soldiers of Sancho, no longer apprehensive of the carnage usually consequent upon defeat, were soon again united under their standards. At the suggestion of Rodrigo, the Leonese army was attacked at daybreak; their camp was stormed; a dreadful massacre avenged the disaster of the preceding day and punished the negligence unpardonable in the vicinity of an enemy which had rendered such a catastrophe possible. Alfonso fled to the neighboring cathedral of Carrion; but the privilege of sanctuary was little considered in those times, especially when it conflicted with important political interests; and the King of Leon, having been seized, in defiance of the anathemas of the clergy, at the very altar, was carried in chains to Burgos. His life would have been sacrificed had he not unwillingly consented to receive the tonsure and assume the monastic habit, an obligation which, according to the institutions of the kingdom inherited from the ancient Gothic polity, ever after incapacitated him from becoming a candidate for the royal dignity. Becoming weary of the restraints of conventual discipline, which were even more rigidly enforced than usual owing to the peculiar circumstances of his novitiate, Alfonso succeeded in eluding the vigilance of his holy brethren, and, passing the frontier, was hospitably received by Mamun, the Moorish prince of Toledo. In the course of time Sancho managed to deprive his remaining brothers and sisters of their inheritance, with the single exception of Urraca, who still held the strong city of Zamora. While reconnoitring that fortress, he was surprised and killed by a cavalier who suddenly issued from one of the gates. The Castilian nobles, duly assembled in the Great Council of the kingdom, agreed to the election of Alfonso on condition that he would make a solemn oath that the death of his brother had not been instigated by his suggestions. Alfonso complied; Rodrigo Diaz was chosen, as the most powerful subject, to receive the political absolution of the monarch elect; and the latter, placing his hands between those of the man to whom was wholly due his present humiliation, publicly purged himself from all complicity in fratricide. Public considerations, as well as the necessity of retaining the support of a warrior of such redoubtable character, induced Alfonso not long afterwards to give him in marriage Ximena, a daughter of one of the most distinguished of the Asturian nobility.

The government of Alfonso VI. was characterized by reforms in every part of the administration, by the reorganization of the tribunals whose decrees had been long supplanted by the exactions and the outrages of arbitrary violence, and by the general re-establishment of order and security. The highways were thoroughly repaired and freed alike from the rapacious impositions of the nobles and the plague of brigandage. All offenders were treated with impartial justice. Neither the wealth, the position, nor the former services of a violator of the law could purchase exemption from punishment. Devoted to the Church, while not untainted with the prevalent Pagan superstition which still clung to spurious revelations of the future by the aid of astrology, divination, and augury, Alfonso was noted for his scrupulous adherence to the forms of worship and for his liberality to the ministers of religion. During his residence at Toledo, the exiled prince, becoming accustomed to the refined manners and superior civilization of the Moors, did not fail to profit by his experience, and to adopt, to some extent, institutions and customs so conducive to the material and intellectual progress of a people. Mamun, whose court was one of the most polished in the Peninsula, treated his royal guest with every courtesy and attention which the most generous sympathy and hospitality could dictate. He was lodged in the royal palace. A numerous train of slaves was appointed to obey his most trifling behests. He was provided with a seraglio of Moorish beauties for his special delectation. The greatest deference was habitually shown to him by the nobles, and he was permitted to share the intimacy of the monarch; he participated in the martial amusements of the court and in the excitements of the chase; he even received a command in the army, and fought bravely by the side of his infidel companions against the forces of hostile principalities. During all this time he was looking forward to an opportunity to obtain possession of Toledo, famous from the highest antiquity for its strength, its traditions, and the brave but riotous character of its populace. Of the difficulties attending such a project he was thoroughly aware. The place was believed to be practically impregnable to assault. Castilian hyperbole declared that “The Spaniards have drawn the meridian through that city because Adam was the first King of Spain, and God placed the sun at the moment of creation directly over that ancient stronghold.” Its natural advantages for defence had been improved by the ingenuity and the resources of many successive dynasties. Long anterior to the Punic occupation it had been the seat of power. Its formidable situation had awakened the astonishment of the Romans in the days of Pliny. The Visigoths had rebuilt its walls and made it their capital, a distinction it maintained over the charming Andalusian cities while that domination endured. The Saracens had strengthened the fortifications and embellished the suburbs with magnificent villas, pleasure-grounds, and gardens. Under the rule of the Beni-Dhinun, Toledo contained a larger and more thrifty population than it had ever before possessed. Encircled, except on the north, by the waters of the Tagus, the foundations of its walls stood more than a hundred feet above the level of that rapid stream. An inaccessible precipice insured it against a hostile attack from the direction of the river, while upon the land side the great height and enormous solidity of the walls and towers might well defy the efforts of a besieging army provided only with the imperfect military appliances of antiquity.

The political influence and extensive trade enjoyed by the city of Toledo as the capital of one of the great Moorish principalities were eclipsed by the splendor displayed by its emirs in the royal residences which were scattered through its environs. One of the most remarkable of these was called, in the picturesque imagery of the Arabic tongue, The Mansion of the Hours. It stood on the bank of the Tagus a short distance west of the city, and was decorated with all the magnificence and ingenuity of Moorish art. Its walls sparkled with mosaics and gilded stuccoes. In its construction the rarest marbles were used with lavish profusion. Fountains of exquisite proportions cooled its halls and court-yards. In the largest of these was placed one of the most curious pieces of hydraulic mechanism ever invented. It was a clepsydra contrived by the famous astronomer Al-Zarkal, and consisted of two basins or reservoirs supplied with water, whose quantity was regulated exactly according to the phases of the moon. With the appearance of the crescent on the horizon the water commenced to run into the reservoirs, which it continued to do until the fourteenth day, when they were filled, and then it gradually diminished in quantity until the twenty-ninth day, when they were entirely empty. If at any time water was added to or taken from these basins the amount was not affected; the concealed mechanism, acting automatically, at once removed the surplus or supplied the deficiency. The movement of the water was accurately calculated according to the constantly varying inequality of the days and nights,* —at sunrise on the first day a twenty-eighth part, and at sunset a fourteenth part, appeared. The inventive genius requisite for the construction of a mechanism capable of producing such extraordinary results may be readily imagined, if not appreciated, by a non-scientific reader. This wonderful contrivance, whose fame, embellished with many fabulous additions, extended to the limits of the Peninsula, was mentioned with awe by the ignorant, who considered it as a mysterious talisman to be attributed to the supernatural powers of the genii and solely adapted to the unholy operations of magic. But there is no question that the clepsydra of Al-Zarkal was constructed for astronomical purposes, although at times it may have been diverted from its original uses to aid in the calculations of the profane but popular science of judicial astrology. The predilection of Mamun for scientific investigations and for the society of highly educated men was not unworthy of the most distinguished khalifs of the Ommeyade dynasty. His intellectual tastes and munificent patronage reawakened public interest in studies which had long been neglected amidst the oppression of petty tyrants and the din of perpetual revolution. His capital became one of the principal centres of Moorish culture, and the conversation of the learned was the delight of a court renowned far and wide for its civilization, its luxury, and the liberality and accomplishments of its sovereign.

In the garden of another villa belonging to the Moorish kings of Toledo was a pavilion built in the centre of an immense fountain. It was approached by a subterranean passage. The sides and roof were covered with glass of many hues relieved by gold and silver arabesques; the floor was of exquisite mosaic. In the mid-day heat of summer the Emir, accompanied by his favorite slaves, was accustomed to resort for his siesta to this pavilion, which stood in a shady grove. As soon as the royal train had entered, the building was completely enveloped with the dashing spray of the fountain, the musical ripple of whose waters soon lulled the occupants to sleep. A delicious coolness was obtained by this simple but ingenious device, and the refraction of the drops of water as they fell on the surface of the painted glass produced all the iridescent and blending colors of the rainbow. The luxurious appliances of the Arabs of Toledo, who were forced to contend with the drawbacks of a rigorous and variable climate and an unproductive soil, were far more creditable to their talents and industry than were those of the Andalusians, who were aided to an extraordinary degree by the advantages of situation and the prodigal gifts of nature. The banks of the Tagus were dotted for miles with the country-seats of the Moorish nobles and of the Jews, whose political and financial influence in the society of the venerable city preceded even the Visigothic domination, so that, when viewed from the commanding height of the walls, they resembled a continuous garden stretching as far as the eye could reach. Such was Moorish Toledo, a prize well worthy of the ambition of any conqueror.

The prophesies of astrologers and charlatans had embittered the closing hours of Motadhid, the tyrant of Seville. They found no encouragement for the perpetuation of his dynasty in the mysterious ceremonies of divination or the casting of horoscopes. The oracles of imposture, prompted perhaps by the occurrences of the past century as well by the inevitable tendency of African invasion towards the attractive shores of Andalusia, had declared that the empire of the Beni-Abbad would be conquered by warriors of foreign origin. The fears and the discernment of Motadhid correctly attributed this allusion to the barbarians of the Libyan Desert, now pouring with irresistible force over the entire region of Northern Africa. And even if this prediction should fail, there could be little doubt in his mind of the ultimate triumph of the Christian arms. The empire which he had founded was held together solely by the influence of terror. His vassals were ready to revolt at the slightest prospect of political benefit. His dynasty was regarded with contempt by the aristocracy and with execration by the populace. The extent of his dominions instead of being a source of strength was in reality only an indication of weakness. With all the artifices he could employ, he had been compelled to purchase the forbearance of the Castilian princes by an onerous and degrading tribute. It required no great degree of penetration to discover that the end of the Arab domination in the greater part of the Peninsula was at hand.

Motamid, who now ascended the throne of Seville, was not the ruler to restore the fortunes or even to sustain the burdens of a tottering monarchy. Endowed with excellent abilities, his inclinations led rather to the refined enjoyments of a sedentary life than to the responsibilities of government or to the hardships and perils of a military career. From early youth he had evinced a passion for literature. His faculties had been developed under the instruction of the best scholars of the time, and, possessing unusual powers of improvisation, he had made considerable progress in that art, prized among his countrymen as an indication of the highest poetical genius. Already intrusted with the conduct of important military enterprises, none of which, however, were successful, his disastrous campaign at Malaga sufficiently demonstrated his utter incapacity for command. The society of women divided with the love of letters the domain of his affections; a slave to female charms, he was helplessly subjected to the imperious caprices of his favorites, who exercised over his plastic mind a tyranny which admitted of no compromise and brooked no contradiction. His chief sultana was Romaiquia, a slave purchased from a master who exercised the respectable but plebeian calling of a muleteer. In an accidental encounter she had enchanted him with her quickness of repartee and her readiness in improvisation and poetical dialogue, and, in accordance with a custom not infrequent among a race with whom social rank is often subordinated to intellectual accomplishments, he had made her the companion of his leisure and the sharer of his throne. The minister of Motamid was Ibn-Ammar, whose principal qualification for office in the eyes of his sovereign was his devotion to the Muses. Under such conditions it is not surprising that the affairs of the kingdom assumed a very different aspect from that which they bore during the reign of the stern and merciless Motadhid. The revenues decreased through the intentional neglect of vassals to forward their tribute, and the dishonesty of collectors of taxes who appropriated the bulk of the funds which had been amassed by oppression. Robbers once more ruled the highways. Scarcely a night passed without the pillage of a house or the murder of a citizen within the walls of the capital, often under the very shadow of the palace. Vast sums, whose judicious expenditure would have greatly contributed to the comfort of the people and the security of the kingdom, were bestowed upon foreign poets, whose ingratitude and impudence were far more conspicuous than their talents, or squandered to indulge the whims of rapacious and frivolous women. The army, upon whose discipline everything depended, partook of the prevalent demoralization. The officers neglected their duties. The soldiers supplied the frequent deficiencies of their pay by the plunder of individuals known to be obnoxious to the government or by the precarious gains of half-concealed robbery. Thoughtful persons viewed with dismay the wild disorder that reigned in every province and in every town; heard with apprehension of the approach of the two great powers from the North and the South, whose proximity boded ill to the interests of civilization; and, sunk into despair, awaited in silent terror the final destruction of the empire.

The various changes which were constantly affecting the political complexion and mutual relations of the Moslem states of the Peninsula had finally concentrated the Arab supremacy in the three kingdoms of Granada, Toledo, and Seville. The encroachments of their formidable neighbors, and the consciousness of their own weakness, had merged the smaller principalities and cities, which had, for a brief and stormy period, enjoyed the appearance of independent states, into the domain of potentates who possessed the means as well as the inclination to uphold their pretensions to sovereignty. Of these, Granada, protected by her comparative isolation from the designs of her rivals, pursued her career of aggrandizement disturbed only by occasional internal commotions. Toledo, under the enlightened rule of the Beni-Dhinun, eclipsed in the splendor of its court and the genius of its monarch the reputation of all the other principalities. The enterprise of the Toledan prince had recently acquired for his dominions a large accession of valuable territory. A close alliance existed between him and Alfonso VI., and numbers of Christian cavaliers served gallantly under the Moslem standards. Valencia and its rich plantations fell without resistance into the hands of Mamun. The provinces of Murcia and Orihuela, teeming with exotic vegetation and abundant and multiple harvests, after an invasion of a few weeks, yielded to the prowess of the warriors of the North, and the garden of Eastern Spain was added to the domain of the flourishing kingdom of Toledo. These easy and profitable triumphs were far from satisfying the ambition of the aggressive Mamun. His eyes were constantly fixed upon the venerated capital of the khalifs, which, although deprived of its honors, its wealth, and its magnificence, still retained a diminished portion of the prestige it had formerly enjoyed, while its weakness tempted attack and annexation.

Ibn-Djahwar, whose wisdom had so long directed the counsels of the oligarchical commonwealth which had been founded on the ruins of the khalifate, oppressed with the infirmities of age and declining health, had resigned the conduct of affairs to his sons, Abd-al-Rahman and Abd-al-Melik. To the former was committed the management of the civil administration; the latter was invested with the command of the army. The superior talents of Abd-al-Melik, aided by the support of the military, gained for him the ascendant; but his despotic treatment of a people who had enjoyed for a brief period the advantages of political and individual liberty made him at the same time an object of universal detestation. In the midst of the discontent and confusion arising from the enforcement of his oppressive measures, Abd-al-Melik was confounded by the approach of the enemy. The diligence of the Prince of Toledo, prompted by secret intelligence conveyed by the disaffected, had anticipated the military dispositions of his adversary, and he was almost at the gates of Cordova before the latter received information that he had passed the frontier. The condition was critical. The sons of Ibn-Djahwar, far from inheriting the capacity of their father, had wantonly undermined the foundations of his power. The old vizier, Ibn-al-Sacca, who enjoyed the confidence of every class of citizens, had been summarily executed under an unfounded accusation of treason. His death, inexcusable in the eyes of the unprejudiced, had alienated the attachment of a large and respectable portion of the community. The popularity and veneration inspired by his love of justice and the wisdom of his administration caused the retirement of many of the most prominent and experienced officers of the army; while the people, who regarded him with almost filial reverence on account of his acts of benevolence, saw, with ominous murmurs, the efforts of an inexperienced youth to secure for himself, without sanction of law, public service, or personal sacrifice, the unlimited exercise of arbitrary power. In his extremity, Abd-al-Melik appealed to his neighbor Motamid, Emir of Seville. The latter responded with suspicious alacrity. A formidable detachment of Sevillian troops was admitted into the city; and the besiegers, unable to effect anything against such a garrison, were obliged to retire after the incomplete gratification of their malice by the pillage of the already wasted suburbs and the destruction of a few scattered and insignificant settlements. But while endeavoring to thwart the plans of a foreign enemy, the Prince, whose incompetency was destined to accomplish the subjection of his capital and the ruin of his family, had unconsciously exposed himself to a more imminent and fatal peril. The officers of Motamid lost no time in ingratiating themselves with the citizens of Cordova. They lauded, with extravagant praises, the character of their own sovereign; they incited the discontented and the ambitious to revolt; they overcame with costly gifts and specious arguments the scruples and the wavering allegiance of the hesitating; they aggravated, by appeals to passion and prejudice, the evils produced by the abuse of power, and pictured in glowing colors the present opportunity for a safe and speedy deliverance. These representations were received with avidity by the people of Cordova, who, after years of bloodshed and tyranny, had lost none of their predisposition to rebellion. A conspiracy was organized to transfer the city to Motamid. The negligence, the stupidity, or the corruption of the government officials permitted the arrangements essential to the success of the plot to be perfected without interference, and probably without detection. While the perfidious allies of Abd-al-Melik were drawn up in apparent preparation for departure, a tumult arose among the inhabitants; the palace was surrounded; the gates of the city were closed; and before the family of Ibn-Djahwar was able to realize the peril of the situation, its supremacy was overthrown and the imperial city of the khalifs had acknowledged the jurisdiction of the princes of Seville. Elated by the facility of his conquest, Motamid exhibited in the treatment of his illustrious prisoners a generous and unusual clemency. He caused them to be transported to the island of Saltes, where the comforts of a pleasant and commodious habitation might indifferently replace the cares, the disappointments, and the splendors of royalty.

The triumph of the Beni-Abbad was, however, of short duration. Mamun, who determined to secure by stratagem what he could not gain by force, enlisted the services of Ibn-Ocacha, a personage of considerable abilities and unsavory reputation, who had, in a long career of crime, successively exercised the congenial employments of assassin, highwayman, and soldier of fortune. The government of Cordova had been nominally committed to Abbad, heir-apparent of the royal house of Seville; but the power in reality was vested in Mohammed, an officer whose distinguished merit in the profession of arms was obscured by the vices of brutality, licentiousness, perfidy, and avarice. His conduct provoked the resentment of the people, a feeling which even the amiable qualities of Abbad were insufficient to counteract; and the suggestions of Ibn-Ocacha found a ready acceptance among a population whose inclination to sedition, transmitted through many generations of revolutionists, had become hereditary and habitual. In the midst of a terrible storm, and in the dead of night, Ibn-Ocacha, with a band of outlaws and desperadoes, was admitted by his fellow-conspirators into the fortifications of Cordova. As they approached the palace of the governor the alarm was given, and Abbad, half clad and without his armor, at the head of a few attendants, bravely confronted the assailants who sought his life. A desperate conflict followed; the valor of the prince aroused the fear of his ferocious enemies; they began to waver; when he lost his footing upon the pavement, slippery with blood, and fell prostrate, to be instantly pierced with a score of weapons. At daybreak, his head having been raised upon a pike, the soldiers took to ignominious flight; the fickle multitude greeted with execrations the features they had so recently admired; the aristocracy and the merchants embraced a cause which might afford protection to their persons and their estates; and, Ibn-Ocacha having convoked the citizens in the mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, the vast assemblage proclaimed, with vociferous but hollow acclamations, their doubtful allegiance to the Emir of Toledo. Intelligence of the success of the enterprise having been communicated to Mamun, he at once repaired to the scene of his final triumph, the famous city so indissolubly associated with the glories and the misfortunes of the Moorish empire. He was hailed as a deliverer by the people that crowded the streets, whose fidelity had been so often tested and so often found wanting as to have passed into a proverb. Ibn-Ocacha received the rewards due to the distinguished services he had rendered, but the high-spirited Mamun shrank from daily contact with a notorious criminal, and his soul revolted at the insolent familiarity of an assassin whose hands had been unnecessarily stained with royal blood. His feelings could not be concealed from the object of his contempt; in an unguarded moment he suffered an expression of ominous significance to escape him; and, while planning the sacrifice of a tool whose existence must eventually jeopardize his interests, his designs were frustrated by the vigilance of his enemy, and the prince who had issued unscathed from the exposure of a hundred battles perished miserably by poison.

The occupation of Cordova was the signal for unremitting hostilities by the Emir of Seville. Over his proud and sensitive nature the sentiments of indignation, sorrow, and disappointment alternately held sway. The entire resources of his kingdom, the skill of his bravest generals, the valor of Christian mercenaries, the encouragement of his own presence, were, during three years, employed for the recovery of the city. The persevering vengeance of Motamid was at last crowned with success; the venerable metropolis of the West once more endured the savage excesses of a licentious soldiery; and the Toledan garrison expiated by a shocking massacre its attachment to its latest sovereign. The death of Ibn-Ocacha, who was crucified head downward, in company with a dog, before the principal gate of Cordova, appeased in some measure the fierce resentment of the devoted father of Abbad, while the subsequent conquest of the territory between the Guadiana and the Guadalquivir signally rebuked the presumptuous ambition of the King of Toledo.

The genius of Alfonso VI. had with each year of his reign cemented the foundations and expanded the resources of the Christian power. After the overthrow of his brethren no domestic rivals remained to dispute his authority. His frequent expeditions against the Moslems exercised the valor of the troops in frequent campaigns, gratified the prejudices of the clergy by the prosecution of a crusade, and stimulated the ruling passion of both of these castes by the judicious distribution of the rich spoils of the Moslem. Never since the time of the Goths had the influence of the Christians been of such extent and importance. Their dominions already embraced no inconsiderable portion of the Peninsula. Their conquests began to assume the aspect of permanent acquisitions. The great principalities of Seville and Toledo were tributaries of the King of Castile, but their regular and involuntary contributions were not always sufficient to ward off invasion. Upon the smallest pretext, and often absolutely without provocation, the mailed chivalry of the North swept like a devastating torrent the plains of the Tagus and the Guadalquivir. The obligation of immunity implied by the annual delivery of tribute was seldom observed by the adroit exponents of Christian casuistry. Already had appeared the germ of that maxim, afterwards so popular and lucrative, that no contract was binding when made with an infidel. The treasures transmitted by the Moors each year to the court of Castile, and which were apparently collected without inconvenience or effort, stimulated the cupidity and ambition of the monarch, and deeply impressed his impoverished subjects with the fabulous wealth and inexhaustible resources of the diminished but still opulent provinces of the once prosperous Moslem empire. The immediate occupation of these provinces was merely a question of political expediency. Their ultimate absorption by the Christian monarchy was no longer doubtful. The determination of the problem rested with the sovereign, who, by this time, had concluded to substitute for the capricious predatory excursions, constantly undertaken in contravention of the faith of solemn engagements and in defiance of the most obvious principles of justice, the regular operations of an organized campaign. The first demonstration was made against Seville. At the head of the largest Christian army which had ever invaded Andalusia, Alfonso VI. appeared before the gates of the capital. The city was thrown into consternation. No adequate means of defence were available, for the constitutional negligence of Motamid—who, besides, naturally presumed that the position of vassal would insure his security—had abandoned the supervision of military precautions for the diversions of midnight banquets and literary assemblies. By the ingenuity of Ibn-Amman, however, the impending catastrophe was prevented, and a respite afforded the terrified citizens, who anticipated with just dismay the savage license of their enemies. The stratagem by which this was accomplished, although in perfect harmony with the character and the customs of a romantic age, seems hardly credible when contrasted with the present prosaic negotiations of contracting powers. Among the amusements that were popular with the princes of Spain, both Moorish and Christian, was the game of chess, which the Arabs had brought from India. This diversion was a favorite one with Motamid, and he possessed a chess-board which, made by the most accomplished artificers of the kingdom, was the wonder of the court. The board itself was constructed of many pieces of sandal and other costly woods, embellished with exquisite gold and silver arabesques and glittering with gems. The squares were of ivory and ebony, the men of the same materials, carved with marvellous skill and mounted in solid gold. This beautiful toy Ibn-Ammar determined to use as the instrument for the salvation of his country. Carrying it under his robes, he visited the Christian encampment, and having, as if undesignedly, permitted some of the Castilian knights to examine it, awaited the effect of this exhibition upon the curiosity of the King. The latter, who was devoted to the game and was an excellent player, challenged Ibn-Ammar, who himself had no superior in Cordova, to contend with him in this the most fascinating pastime of royalty. The wily vizier consented, with the understanding that if Alfonso prevailed he should receive the chess-board, but if not, that he should grant the first request his successful opponent should demand of him. The discernment of the King led him to at once reject this insidious proposal, and Ibn-Ammar retired to his tent. The spirit of the minister was not discouraged by his apparent failure; he quietly secured the co-operation of some of the most influential nobles of the court by the bestowal of treasure with which he was amply provided with a view to just such an emergency. The plausible presentations of these powerful allies soon overcame the fears of the monarch, and an insignificant plaything was deposited as the prize of the winner against the magnificent stake of an empire. The tact of the Moslem procured the appointment as judges of those nobles already purchased with his gold. The game proceeded; Alfonso proved no match for his practised opponent, who, when the time arrived to announce his request, demanded the unconditional evacuation of Andalusia by the Christian army. The mortification of the King at this unexpected demand may be imagined, and, in a moment of anger, he even meditated the violation of his royal word; but the efforts of the courtiers, and the tender of a double tribute willingly contributed by the government of Seville, appeased his vexation, and he relinquished with reluctance the splendid prize already within his grasp. Thus, by the shrewdness and cunning of a statesman, whose act has no parallel in the annals of diplomacy, the matured plans of an able sovereign were foiled; a national calamity was averted; and means were even provided for the further aggrandizement of a territory whose effeminate government and demoralized condition had invited the attack of a formidable invader. Not only Seville, but not improbably the other states of Andalusia and of Eastern Spain as well, were saved by the ruse of Ibn-Ammar, and the end of the death-struggle between Christian and Moslem in the Peninsula was protracted for more than four hundred years. The military genius of Alfonso, the distinction and experience he had gained in a long series of victorious campaigns, the tested valor of a numerous army excited by the spirit of military emulation, and the blind fury of religious zeal constantly inflamed by fanatics, justify the presumption that the fall of Seville would have soon been followed by the subjection of every other Moslem state, and that, upon apparently so insignificant a thing as a game of chess, once depended the existence and the destinies of the Hispano-Arab domination. The obligation due to the ingenuity and perseverance of Ibn-Ammar may be appreciated when it is recalled that a hundred and sixty-three years elapsed after the retirement of Alfonso from the walls of Seville before that city passed into the hands of the Christians, and that it was more than three centuries after that event when, by the surrender of Granada, the Moorish dominion in the Peninsula was finally terminated.

Thwarted in the enterprise upon which he had founded so many ambitious hopes, Alfonso now directed his attention to Toledo. That principality, raised to such eminence by the genius of Mamun, had since the death of that monarch greatly declined in power and prestige. His son and successor, Kadir, inherited none of the talents or the energy of his illustrious father. Of effeminate tastes and luxurious habits, he was the tool of astrologers, women, and eunuchs. The peace of the palace was disturbed by the incessant quarrels of these rapacious and vindictive parasites. Their disputes consumed the time usually devoted by the councils of princes to the discussion of important questions of state policy; and a contest for precedence in some idle ceremonial or the ignominious competition for a bribe attracted more attention at the court of Toledo than the imposition of a tax or the defence of a city. The most trivial employment, the most frivolous pastime, was not undertaken without a solemn consultation with charlatans. The relative positions of the planets were carefully ascertained before the departure of expeditions of pleasure, and the daily movements of the court were determined by the benign or malignant aspect of the stars. In an age of martial exploits, a prince who countenanced such impostures, and was not endowed with the redeeming qualities of personal courage or military ambition, could not retain the respect of his contemporaries. The boundaries of his dominions contracted year by year. Murcia was taken by the troops of Motamid. Valencia again declared and for a time maintained her independence. The districts on the borders of Portugal, comprising a part of what is now included in the province of Estremadura, were appropriated by Alfonso, who was no longer bound by the obligations of friendship contracted with his ancient host and protector Mamun. The internal affairs of the kingdom of Toledo were in dire confusion. The exactions of the government finally became intolerable. Kadir and his swarm of eunuchs and astrologers were expelled from the city; a provisional government was established; and the rebellious citizens placed themselves under the protection of the Emir of Badajoz. In his extremity, the terrified and superstitious prince applied to his powerful suzerain, the King of Castile. But the latter was not willing to undertake such an invidious task without the previous assurance of some tangible advantage. He required the delivery of all the treasure that Kadir had succeeded in bringing away from Toledo, which included vessels and plate of immense value, as well as many thousand pieces of gold, and the surrender of the most important castles which still acknowledged his authority. The desperate circumstances of the dethroned ruler admitted of no temporizing. A sullen but unconditional acquiescence followed the exorbitant demands of Alfonso, and the treasure was conveyed by slaves to the palace at Burgos. The soldiers of Castile and Leon were then introduced into the citadels of the frontier; and the degenerate son of Mamun, who had already lost his capital, now saw himself about to be deprived of the remainder of his inheritance. Aware of the hopelessness of an attempt to reduce such a fortress as Toledo by means of mining or escalade, the Castilian sovereign resolved to try the tedious but more certain operation of famine. The walls were consequently invested; all avenues of supply were blockaded; and the beautiful valley of the Tagus was denuded of its orchards and its harvests. By a refinement of policy suggested by the peculiar relations existing between the crown of Castile and the Moorish governments of Andalusia, Alfonso adopted the profitable expedient of utilizing the Moslems as instruments of their own destruction. At regular intervals fiscal messengers were despatched to the capitals of the independent municipalities, and the sums thus collected defrayed the expenses of the siege of Toledo. So indispensable, indeed, were these contributions that without their aid no campaign of any length could, during the period under discussion, have been successfully prosecuted by the Christian monarchs of Spain. The revenues of states whose soil and climate were unfavorable to the operations of agriculture, and which were inhabited by a people constantly engaged in warfare, hardly sufficed to maintain the royal establishment, even in time of peace. The booty derived from predatory expeditions, although often of great value, was usually apportioned among the victorious soldiery in the field of battle, and was at once dissipated by the notorious improvidence of its recipients, while the uncertainty of its amount and the difficulty with which it was obtained rendered this source of supply unavailable for the pressing exigencies of the public service. Thus it may be seen how opportune was the regular income of Moorish gold which sustained for years the precarious fortunes of the Castilian monarchy, and by whose aid the vassals of the same suzerain were induced involuntarily to compass each other’s ruin. Familiarity with the use of such an invaluable expedient soon suggested various methods of improving its efficiency. The stipulated amount of the tribute was doubled. Extraordinary contributions were occasionally levied under the name of “gifts,” a species of extortion centuries afterwards adopted by the arbitrary sovereigns of civilized Europe as a convenient means of refilling a depleted treasury. In these financial transactions, the agency of Hebrews, whose heterodox opinions were not openly condemned so long as their unscrupulous schemes could be made to enure to the profit of the state, were exclusively employed. The arrogance of these emissaries, who exaggerated the importance of their trust, and, emboldened by their influence with the monarch, made no effort to disguise their power, was often intolerable. During the siege of Toledo, the Jew Ben-Kalib was sent with a small retinue by Alfonso to collect the tribute of Seville. When the money was tested, it was found to have been alloyed with baser metal. The vizier of Motamid, who had delivered it, was summoned to the camp of the embassy. As soon as he arrived, the fury of Ben-Kalib prevailed over his discretion, and he exclaimed, “How dare you try to impose upon me with these counterfeits? I will not depart until after you have furnished me with coin of the stipulated weight and value, and next year I shall exact the tribute of my master in cities, not in gold!” This insolence was immediately reported to Motamid; the Christian envoys paid for the imprudent conduct of their comrade with imprisonment; and Ben-Kalib, realizing when too late the fatal error he had committed, after having offered in vain his weight in gold as a ransom, was crucified like the most degraded malefactor.

The rage of the King of Castile when he heard of the treatment of his ambassadors knew no bounds. The survivors were ransomed by the delivery of the castle of Almodovar; and then Alfonso, leaving behind him a sufficient force to blockade Toledo, carried fire and sword through the dominions of Motamid to the very shores of the Mediterranean.

There is nothing so indicative of the helpless condition of the Moslems in these wars as their evident inability to obstruct the progress or harass the movements of an invading army. They seem to have trusted solely to the defences of their strongholds. The plantations, the peasantry, the flocks, and the harvests were precipitately abandoned to the enemy. Not a vestige remained of that ancient spirit which had repelled the martial chivalry of Europe in many sanguinary encounters, which had planted the Moslem standards in the plains of Central France, on the mountains of Sardinia, on the banks of the Po and the Tiber, on the towers of Palermo and Syracuse, on the ruined walls of Narbonne and Santiago.

His vengeance for the moment satiated, Alfonso returned to the siege of Toledo. The continuous investment of seven years’ duration had almost exhausted the resources, and had entirely shaken the resolution, of the inhabitants of that proud and rebellious city. They now consented to make terms with their exiled sovereign, and Kadir, followed by his greedy train of eunuchs and conjurers, was again permitted to ascend the throne of his ancestors. The price exacted for this restoration by his allies made it, however, a costly triumph. The exorbitant demands of Alfonso impoverished the treasury and appropriated the most valuable domain of the once splendid inheritance of the princes of Toledo. All of his own portable possessions, together with the vast wealth amassed by his family, were laid at the feet of his rapacious ally. But even this did not satisfy the King of Castile, who, in pursuance of the astute policy which had hitherto proved so successful, had adopted a safer and a less expensive mode of conquest than a direct appeal to arms. The fortresses which had been transferred to the Christians as security were appropriated, nominally to defray the expenses of the war. Others were demanded and given up, until little remained to Kadir but a comparatively small extent of territory, which had been ravaged alternately by both Christian and Moslem armies, and the perilous jurisdiction of a discontented and turbulent capital. Deprived of his revenues and almost without means of subsistence, Kadir had now no resource to employ for the maintenance of his household and his dignity but the oppression of his subjects. The people, however, were not willing to longer endure the exactions of a frivolous and tyrannical master, and sought in the neighboring states an asylum from persecution. Some fled to the fertile and hospitable regions of the South,—to Seville, Granada, Malaga. Others settled in the kingdom of Saragossa. Many of those who remained, stripped of all their property and unable to procure food for their families, died of hunger. Once populous districts were entirely deserted. Towns of considerable size were abandoned to ruin; not a living thing was to be seen in the empty streets; and among the decaying habitations everywhere prevailed the awful and impressive silence of the tomb. In the presence of the public distress, the regular payment of tribute was inexorably enforced by Alfonso. The inability of Kadir to respond to the demand precipitated the seizure of his remaining estates, which, since his restoration, he had only held by the sufferance of his Christian neighbors. Unable longer to maintain his failing power, he opened negotiations looking to the surrender of his capital. The conditions imposed and accepted were such as, while extremely favorable to the Moslems, could be readily conceded by the magnanimous spirit of Alfonso. The privileges of unmolested residence, of the enjoyment of property, of the practice of religious rites, were granted to the Toledans; and they were also permitted to retain the services of their own magistrates and to be subject to the operation of their own laws. The tribute to the new sovereign was fixed at the same amount which had been payable to the old in accordance with the legal tax of the Mussulman code. The grand mosque was to be forever inviolate and solely devoted to the worship of Islam. The fortifications, the public works, the royal palace and gardens, were to become the property of the Castilian crown. A private article closely affecting the political fortunes of the King of Toledo was one of the important provisions of the treaty. It stipulated that the latter was, as soon as practicable, to be placed on the throne of Valencia, even if the entire power of the Christian monarchy should be required to carry it into effect. The last hours of Kadir in his lost capital were passed in consultation with astrologers to determine the most auspicious moment for his departure. His ludicrous distress aroused the ridicule and amazement of all who beheld him as, carrying an astrolabe, he rode slowly out of the gate at the head of his escort. Great numbers of Moslems in a short time abandoned their homes on account of the open and unrebuked violation of the compact which had conferred upon them the exercise of their religion and the enjoyment of their ancient privileges.

As soon as the treaty was signed, the King of Castile entered the city, followed by an imposing train of ecclesiastics and cavaliers. All the pomp of the Christian hierarchy, all the barbaric luxury of the Spanish nobles, were displayed on this occasion of triumph, an occasion which portended the speedy overthrow of the Moorish sovereignty in the North. The prelates, attired in their official vestments, bore aloft the crosses and the sacred vessels once the property of the Gothic clergy of imperial Toledo. These, rescued from the polluting grasp of the Saracen and preserved for nearly four hundred years in the inaccessible depths of the Asturias, were now to be restored to their altars, a convincing proof of the truth of the gospel and of the justice and power of the Christian God. Behind the ecclesiastical dignitaries came the nobles, many of them descendants of families that had once inhabited the palaces of the Visigothic capital,—the ancestors of the most illustrious houses of the Spanish monarchy. The rear was closed by the ladies of the court, guarded by a detachment of the Castilian army.

Affairs having been settled in Toledo, a large force was sent to Valencia to secure that rich kingdom through the instrumentality of Kadir. The co-operation of a faction friendly to the Prince of Toledo facilitated the occupation of the capital, and the provinces soon followed its example. But the majority of the people detested their new ruler, who incurred all the odium of an intruder and possessed none of the dazzling qualities which usually attach to the character of a conqueror. The country groaned under the impositions exacted by the maintenance of a host of half-savage Castilians. Their pay and rations absorbed each day the great sum of six hundred pieces of gold. To meet this extraordinary demand, heavy taxes were levied; the rich were plundered; and the license of the soldiers, who respected neither the laws of military discipline nor the rites of hospitality, was, of necessity, ignored. Then, as a compromise, these troublesome guests were established on lands in the fertile valley of the Segura, which had been depopulated by the accidents and calamities of war. But this experiment proved unsatisfactory. The plantations were consigned by their owners to the labors and the supervision of slaves; while the adjacent territory was vexed by the incursions of bold riders who, in the exercise of their rapacious instincts, made no discrimination between friend and foe. The prevalence of factious disorder, the absence of recognized authority, and the consequent immunity enjoyed by outlaws of every description caused the profession of brigandage to be regarded as the most popular and lucrative of employments. The numbers and invincible reputation of the Castilians soon made their camp the asylum of every fugitive from justice, proscribed rebel, and religious apostate in Southeastern Spain. Thoroughly demoralized by such associations, the soldiers of Kadir, prompted by their infamous recruits, openly assumed the profession of banditti and became the scourge of the kingdom. They stripped travellers. They extorted immense ransoms from the wealthy residents of cities. They quartered themselves on the citizens, and violated the chastity of the female members of their households. They mutilated their victims in ways that forbid description. No rank, no creed, was exempt from their murderous brutality. The noble was beaten to reveal the whereabouts of his treasures. The peasant, whether Moslem or Christian, was seized and sold as a slave. A handful of copper, a measure of wine, a loaf of bread, or a pound of fish was sufficient to purchase one of these unfortunates. Those who were unsalable on account of age or physical infirmity were made the objects of ingenious and protracted tortures; they were blinded by fire; their flesh was pierced with red-hot irons; their tongues were cut out; or they were thrown to famished and infuriated dogs.

At this time, throughout the Peninsula, the isolated remains of Moslem power seemed about to yield to Christian supremacy. The prestige of the kingdom of Castile, under the guidance of an adroit and valiant monarch, daily increased. Toledo had fallen. Saragossa was besieged by a powerful army. The Castilians had established themselves at many points in the heart of the enemy’s country. The principality of Almeria was incessantly harassed by the expeditions of a predatory band which had seized the town of Aledo. Valencia was practically dominated by the subjects of Alfonso. The Christians of Granada regularly communicated with their brethren domiciled in the neighboring kingdoms, and, as the result of this intercourse, a small troop of adventurous cavaliers had penetrated to a point within a few miles of that city. The prowess of the Christian knight was so dreaded that his very appearance was able to put to flight a score of Moslems. In this age of transition between the historic achievements of the khalifate and the martial exploits which distinguished the Conquest of Granada, Moorish loyalty and courage were but a reminiscence. The ultimate destiny of the Hispano-Arab states of Spain—a destiny which implied destruction and servitude—was obvious and inevitable. The most fortunate of them was no longer able to preserve a condition of even nominal and ambiguous independence. The haughtiest of their princes were mere vassals, whose domains were held by an arbitrary and precarious tenure. There was no longer a possibility either of concerted action or of successful individual exertion among these mutually jealous and disorganized communities. North of the Sierra Morena, south of the Strait of Gibraltar, two great powers, equal in valor, distinct in nationality, antagonistic in religion, urged on alike by the fierce passions of fanaticism and avarice, were fast converging to a common centre,—the smiling plains of Andalusia. It was no longer a question whether the disrupted remains of the khalifate were to be Edrisite, Slave, or Amiride. The choice was now to be made between two masters, and it must be speedily determined whether Spain was to become Berber or Castilian.

The emergency admitted of no delay. So pressing indeed was it, that a national and universal emigration was seriously discussed. Any evil was deemed preferable to the persecutions and outrages of the Christian soldiery. Since his occupation of Toledo, the military operations of Alfonso had evinced a wider and more portentous activity. His resources had been materially augmented. His army was almost doubled by the foreign mercenaries and adventurers who flocked to his standard. His arrogance increased in a direct ratio to his territorial acquisitions. He assumed the title of emperor, which had no foundation but his own inordinate vanity. He adopted the grandiloquent appellation of Sovereign of the Men of Two Religions, a title whose absurdity was the more apparent inasmuch as his orthodoxy was seriously questioned and his intolerance of the dogmas of Mohammed notorious and proverbial. He at all times made no secret of his intention to place the Moorish provinces of the Peninsula under the Castilian sceptre as soon as his martial preparations had been completed.

To understand the course of subsequent events, it is now necessary to turn to the continent of Africa, where an ominous political and religious revolution had obliterated the boundaries of great nations and changed the face and the conditions of society.

In the Desert of Sahara, south of ancient Numidia, there existed from time immemorial a race of nomadic warriors who traced a doubtful genealogy to the inhabitants of Yemen, in Arabia. The western part of the Desert was inhabited by the Lamtounah, a division of this race, affiliated by ties of tribal connection and intimacy with the Sanhadjah, who, from the time of the conquest of Musa, had been prominent in the wars and seditions of Al-Maghreb and Spain. The Lamtounah, with their kindred, belonged to the Berber nation, and pursued the primitive avocations of a pastoral life. In addition to their flocks, they maintained large numbers of ostriches and camels, which constituted the bulk of their movable possessions. Their food was camel’s flesh and milk; the barren sands of the Desert afforded no encouragement to the operations of agriculture, and the tribes of the Sahara were wholly unacquainted with the culture and the enjoyment of the products of the soil. The seclusion of their country, rarely penetrated by traders, who could find among such an uncivilized people few objects of barter, kept them in ignorance of the most ordinary commodities of life; of its luxuries they had no conception; and when, at rare intervals, a loaf of bread came into their hands through the medium of some generous traveller, it was regarded as a great curiosity. These nomads differed both in mental and physical characteristics from their neighbors. They were more fierce, more haughty, more brave. Their religion was idolatrous, slightly veneered with a spurious and corrupt Islamism; for, although the principal maxims of the Mussulman faith were not unfamiliar to the most intelligent, the great mass of the population knew little and cared less about the mission and the precepts of the Prophet of Mecca. The Lamtounah were tall and handsome, the men being models of strength and symmetry, while the women possessed unusual charms of person and manner. The swarthy complexion ordinarily associated with the inhabitants of Africa was absent from the Berbers of the Sahara, whose skins, where not exposed to the scorching rays of the sun, were as white as that of any European. Their garments were of blue and striped cotton or of the tanned hide of the antelope. A terrible and mysterious aspect was imparted to their faces by the practice of covering them below the eyes with a pendent cloth, which, like a veil, protected the features and the respiration of the wearer from the heat and the sand-storms of the Desert. Their sandals were of black leather, attached to the foot by scarlet fastenings curiously embroidered with gold. Of their weapons,—identical with those used so effectively by the Numidian horsemen of Sallust,—the lance and the javelin were the most commonly employed; the scimetar and the poniard were reserved for the emergencies of a hand-to-hand encounter. The courage of these barbarians was proverbial from the highest antiquity; their subjugation had never been seriously attempted by any conqueror; they had defied the power of Carthage, repulsed the desultory attacks of the Arabs, and confronted with inflexible resolution the arms and the discipline of the Roman legions under both the Consuls and the Emperors.

A certain chieftain, Yahya-Ibn-Ibrahim, belonging to the tribe of Djidala, a subdivision of the Lamtounah, and a zealous but ignorant Moslem, performed, through motives of curiosity and devotion, about the year 1036, the pilgrimage to the Holy Cities of Arabia enjoined upon his sect, but rare among his countrymen. The simple pilgrim, to whom the world outside of the limited area of the Desert was even by report wholly unknown, was astonished and delighted with the revelations and experiences of civilized life. While on his return, he attended the lectures of a learned and celebrated theologian and scholar, named Abu-Amram, whose eloquence daily attracted great audiences in the court of the principal mosque of Kairoan. The enraptured attention of the new disciple awakened the curiosity of the lecturer; he inquired the nationality, the sect, and the tribe of the attentive auditor; and learned with surprise and regret of the religious ignorance of the countrymen of the latter, whose credulity and favorable disposition seemed, on the other hand, to promise an easy and enduring conversion. Inspired by the fervent zeal of a proselyte, Yahya requested of his teacher that one of his followers might be selected to accompany him to expound to the benighted tribes of the Sahara the doctrines and the duties of Islam. The proposal was made to the assembly; but the perils of the journey and the uncertainty of its issue caused even the most zealous to hesitate; while the exaggerated ferocity of the Berbers, to whom the most shocking cruelties were popularly attributed, caused the students of Kairoan to shrink from exposure to the sufferings and glories of voluntary martyrdom. But in the distant province of Sus-al-Aksa, where Yahya repaired under the instructions of Abu-Amram, a missionary was found who signified his willingness to penetrate the unknown region, at the risk of liberty and life and to brave the prejudices of a race of savages, for the sake of imparting the sacred instructions of the Koran. The name of this zealot was Abdallah-Ibn-Jahsim. Possessed of great erudition, an eloquent orator, a practised controversialist, he was, in all respects, admirably qualified for the task he had undertaken. His familiarity with the various dialects of the Berber tongue and his knowledge of human nature obtained by travel in many lands, combined with a graceful address and winning manners, at once gained for him the attention and the esteem of his new associates. His discourses were listened to with mingled curiosity and veneration. His disciples multiplied by thousands. The most influential chieftains were charmed by his eloquence; and the fame of the accomplished messenger of Islam soon extended from the Mediterranean and the Atlantic to the outermost limits of the Desert. His calling, and the amazing success with which it was prosecuted among a people naturally credulous, were not long in investing him with mysterious and supernatural attributes; the intimate association of divine inspiration and royal authority always existing in the minds of the nomads of Africa and Asia raised him still higher in the public estimation; while the voluntary allegiance of tribal dignitaries, and the fanatical devotion of multitudes of proselytes, heralded the foundation of a new spiritual and temporal empire.

The example of his Prophet could not fail, under the circumstances, to suggest to the mind of the reformer the most flattering dreams of ambition. By every expedient of political ingenuity he tightened his grasp upon the superstitious myriads who already adored him. His rigid austerities edified the devout. The simplicity of his attire, the plainness of his table, and the regularity of his habits served to effectually disguise the lofty aspirations which he cherished in secret. He boldly assumed the hazardous authority of appointing the sheiks of the various tribes, an office heretofore elective and jealously guarded by the barbarians as an essential indication and guaranty of independence. He aroused the cupidity and fanaticism of his auditors by enumerating the spoils to be obtained from the infidel, by representing the merits of perpetual warfare, and by delineating, with all the embellishments of Oriental hyperbole, the sensual pleasures of the Mohammedan paradise. At length the desired consolidation of the tribes of the Desert was complete. The portentous union of implicit faith and unhesitating obedience had been accomplished; and, for hundreds of leagues throughout the Sahara, hosts of redoubtable and eager warriors impatiently awaited the signal for action. Their numbers were enormous. Their fanaticism was blind, furious, irresistible. Their strength and dexterity were so great that it was a trifling feat for one of them to completely transfix a horse with a lance or to cleave his rider to the saddle with a single blow of the scimetar. With such potent auxiliaries it was not impossible to conquer a world.

The denizens of the Atlas were the first to experience the power of the newly-organized empire. The courage of these mountaineers and the natural defences of their country had enabled them to repulse the cavalry of Musa, and that skilful general had been compelled to tolerate the presumption of a race which the experience of military commanders had for centuries pronounced invincible. But the mountain tribes were unable to sustain their well-merited reputation in the face of the followers of Abdallah. They were driven from the plains. Their haunts were invaded, and fastnesses heretofore considered inaccessible were penetrated by the swarming legions of the Desert. Their flocks were swept away. Their families were borne into slavery. Finally, broken in spirit, they acknowledged the divine mission of the reformer; repeated with superstitious and unmeaning reverence the formula of the Mussulman creed; accepted with meek submission the political superiority of the Lamtounah; and contributed a considerable reinforcement to the already formidable army of the conqueror.

Abdallah did not long enjoy the substantial fruits of his victories. He was killed in a skirmish twenty-two years after the commencement of his public career as a missionary, and the government and destiny of the Berber nation devolved on Abu-Bekr-Ibn-Omar, Emir of the Lamtounah, whose appointment had been dictated by the authority of Abdallah himself. Abu-Bekr, while not aspiring to the divine character assumed by his predecessor, was none the less fortunate in prosecuting his designs of conquest. He invaded and subdued the ancient kingdom of the Edrisites, and incorporated it into his vast dominions. He occupied, in turn, the capitals of Fez and Mequinez, and, dissatisfied with their surroundings, or craving distinction in a new field, he began the construction of the city of Morocco as a residence for the dynasty he had founded. Summoned unexpectedly to the borders of the Desert to suppress a rebellion, he left the administration of the empire in the hands of his cousin, Yusuf-Ibn-Tashfin. This chieftain, destined to enduring celebrity as the deliverer and conqueror of Spain, had already passed the term of middle life. His person was agreeable, his manners fascinating, his reputation for valor and capacity unsurpassed. He constantly practised, without effort or ostentation, the abstemious habits of his nomadic ancestry. The devout and the indigent received with grateful acknowledgments the frequent tokens of his charity and benevolence. In the high station which his birth and talents had secured for him he had always acted as a wise and discriminating ruler. His character was, however, obscured by many degrading vices, and, under the mask of a political ascetic, he concealed the sinister designs of a calculating and unscrupulous ambition. The opportunity for personal advancement now offered him was eminently congenial with the dark and perfidious maxims of policy which regulated his conduct. By judicious donations he courted and secured the favor of the army. The populace was profoundly edified by the sight of their prince working daily, like a common laborer, on the mosque of the rising capital. The fame of the new city, the extent of its plan, the rapidity of its construction, the splendor of its edifices, the abundance of its waters, the beauty of its gardens, attracted from every quarter of Northern Africa a numerous and enterprising population. On a commanding eminence at the northern extremity stood the palace and citadel, fortified by all the art of foreign engineers. The protracted absence of Abu-Bekr by degrees obliterated the remembrance of his rights from the minds of a people to whom his person was unfamiliar; and his authority was soon eclipsed by the increasing popularity and influence of an ambitious subordinate who aspired to absolute independence. Not content with despoiling his cousin of his throne, Yusuf even appropriated his favorite wife; and the lovely Zeinab, a woman of great talents and beauty, not unwilling to exchange the neglect of an absent lord for the immediate prospect of love and empire, passed without a sigh into the harem of the daring usurper. Aware of the vital importance of preserving the affection of his followers, Yusuf lavished upon them the most expensive garments, horses, and armor; his bodyguard, equally composed of Christian captives and negro slaves, resplendent in silks and jewels, was daily exercised in the rapid and bewildering evolutions peculiar to the cavalry of the Desert; and less than one year after the departure of Abu-Bekr, a hundred thousand warriors, impelled by a blind fanaticism and who revered their leader almost as a divinity, stood ready, at an instant’s notice, to respond to his call to arms.

At length, after many months, Abu-Bekr returned to his capital. Long before he reached it, his ears were saluted with the rumors of the quiet revolution which had virtually deprived him of his consort and his crown. The satisfaction he derived from the triumphant issue of the expedition, the fond anticipations he cherished of the joyous acclamations of his subjects and of the affectionate embraces of his wife, were obscured by sad and gloomy apprehensions. He heard with wonder of the prodigious growth and opulence of the city he had so recently founded. His credulity was taxed by the marvellous accounts of its mansions and its suburbs; of the vast revenues collected and expended by the imperial treasury; of the magnificence of the court; of the numbers and equipment of the army. Soon the emissaries of Yusuf secretly penetrated his camp. His soldiers were corrupted with rich bribes and the assurance of booty or promotion, and, their loyalty once shaken, they awaited with impatience the signal for desertion or mutiny. These intrigues and their inevitable tendency could not be concealed from the unfortunate Abu-Bekr. Aware that resistance or reproach would cost him his life, he wisely resolved to dissemble his feelings and accept his fate. By a public and solemn abdication he renounced his rights in favor of Yusuf, and, broken-hearted, retired with a few trusty followers to the solitude of the Desert. The title of the new Sultan of Africa having been thus confirmed by every requisite of inherited prestige and legal authority, he continued to increase the area of his already immense dominions. Far from being satisfied with the growth of his empire, he was scarcely seated on the throne before he began to meditate the invasion of the Spanish Peninsula. The example of Tarik, the demoralized condition of his co-religionists beyond the strait, the menacing attitude of the Christian powers, the prospect of political aggrandizement, the hope of military distinction, the merit of protecting the faith of which he was now the most distinguished exponent,—all these considerations, and others far less praiseworthy, urged the energetic Yusuf to a more glorious career. As a prelude to future operations, he stormed the cities of Tangier and Ceuta, repaired or rebuilt their fortifications, constructed within their walls great magazines and arsenals, and garrisoned them with large bodies of veterans of tried courage and fidelity. His dominions now reached from the eastern boundary of Tunis to the Atlantic, from the Mediterranean to the burning regions of Senegal. No African potentate had ever before wielded such enormous power. No Moslem prince had ever exercised jurisdiction over so extensive a territory. In area and population it greatly exceeded, in civilization and intelligence only was it inferior to, the mighty domination of Carthage. Such was the ruler, and such the empire whose potent aid the distressed Moslems of Andalusia were about to invoke.

It was only after much deliberation that the Hispano-Arab princes determined to adopt the desperate expedient of appealing to Yusuf. The imams and the other ecclesiastical authorities had from the beginning urged this step, foreseeing, through its acceptance, a certain accession to their professional importance and a probable augmentation of their political power. But the sovereigns, who cared more for the possession of their thrones, precarious though that might be, than for the reformation of their faith or the exaltation of its ministers, were loath to admit into their dominions a conqueror flushed with victory and supported by the vast treasures and the innumerable hordes of Northern and Central Africa. But, unhappily, no other alternative remained. Rumors of the great preparations of Alfonso increased day by day, and at length the question was decided by Motamid, who resolutely declared, when the danger of inviting the Berbers was enlarged on by his courtiers, “If it is the will of Allah that I should be deprived of my kingdom and become the slave of a foreigner, I would far rather be a camel-driver in Africa than a swineherd in Castile.”

The preponderating influence of the lord of Seville overcame the indecision of the other Moorish princes, and the kadis of Granada, Badajoz, and Cordova, duly empowered to act as ambassadors with the vizier of Motamid, repaired to the court of Yusuf. The enterprise was agreeable to the ambitious designs of the Sultan of Africa, but he insisted upon the transfer of the island of Algeziras as an indispensable condition of the alliance. This the envoys having neither the authority nor the inclination to grant, matters remained in suspense until the influence of his religious advisers, who exercised a singular ascendant over the mind of Yusuf, urged him to seize the island if its possession was refused to him. A hundred vessels suddenly set sail from Ceuta, and a great force landed at Algeziras. The possession of the place was peremptorily demanded by the general of the African army; the governor refused compliance; and hostilities were only prevented by a timely order from Seville requiring the evacuation of the city by the Moorish commander. Yusuf soon arrived with his guards; the citadel was put in the best possible condition for defence; the magazines were replenished; and every means adopted for the strengthening and preservation of a fortress so essential to secure reinforcements or to protect the retreat of an invading army. Under such sinister auspices did the Almoravides, or Wearers of the Veil, first set foot on Spain. The occupation of Algeziras, recognized by both Moor and Berber as permanent and equivalent to the practical surrender of the key of Andalusia to a foreign government, portended even to the most careless observer the speedy dissolution of the Saracen power.

Yusuf was received near Seville by Motamid with the honors due to his exalted rank; and the treasury of the latter was almost exhausted by the splendid gifts with which he endeavored to propitiate the favor and secure the attachment of his dangerous ally. Such was his liberality that every soldier of the Almoravide army received a present, a proceeding which, in view of the weakness of the government and the exaggerated idea of its resources which it conveyed, was, to say the least, highly impolitic.

The rulers of the various states of Andalusia contributed all the troops which could possibly be spared from their small and ill-appointed armies, and the allied forces, amounting to nearly twenty thousand men, proceeded northward in search of the enemy. Meanwhile, the King of Castile had not been idle. The siege of Saragossa, which had for months engaged his attention and consumed the energies of his impatient followers, was hastily raised. Orders were despatched to every vassal to repair with his retainers to an appointed rendezvous. The bold peasantry of the Pyrenees were exhorted by religious emissaries to imitate the glorious example of their ancestors, who had preserved, amidst the most discouraging circumstances, their national faith and their political liberties. A formidable contingent of French cavaliers, whom the prospect of booty and the love of adventure had attracted to the Castilian standards, materially strengthened by their numbers and their prowess the confidence and the enthusiasm of the Christians. On the plain of Zallaca, in the province of Badajoz, the hostile forces were marshalled in menacing array. The devout prejudices of the Catholic king were insulted by an imperious summons from Yusuf to renounce his belief or pay tribute to the representative of Islam. A lengthy answer couched in the grandiloquent style of the age and ending with an expression of defiance was returned to this menacing epistle; the armies encamped within sight of each other; and, in compliance with the practice of those chivalrous times, the day of battle was appointed by mutual consent. The messengers of Alfonso suggested the second day from that date, which would be Saturday; the choice was approved by the unsuspecting Africans; but the astuteness of the experienced officers of Motamid detected in this plausible arrangement the evidences of a deep-laid and dangerous stratagem. The Andalusians, who formed the advance-guard, were, in such an event, most exposed to a surprise, and the fate of the entire army depended, in fact, on their vigilance. No precaution was overlooked. The sentinels were doubled. Patrols made frequent rounds along the lines. The soldiers were admonished to sleep upon their arms. Reconnoitring parties were sent to report the slightest signs of unusual activity in the enemy’s camp. It was not without cause that a universal feeling of anxiety pervaded the Moslem army. Upon the result of the impending conflict hung all that was dear to the soldiers of Islam,—their fortunes, their liberties, their lives, and their religion. The prospect was far from encouraging. The enemy had the advantage in numbers, in organization, in discipline. Their forces, sixty thousand in all, exceeded those of the Mussulmans in the overwhelming proportion of three to one. The Castilians were superior in the strength of their horses, in the character of their weapons, in the weight and temper of their armor. Conspicuous among them were the French knights completely sheathed in glittering steel. The Christians were, to a man, warriors tried in many a bloody fray; they were animated by a common purpose and obedient to a single commander; and they considered the enterprise in which they had embarked as one peculiarly favored by Heaven. Their zeal was inflamed daily by distinguished prelates, whose presence imparted additional sanctity to a crusade nominally waged for the glory and the propagation of the Faith. On the eve of battle, these ecclesiastical counsellors, in all the splendor of full canonicals, harangued the ranks of the soldiery; and not infrequently were they to be found, like the members of the ancient Visigothic hierarchy, contending with carnal weapons in the heat and peril of deadly conflict, where their words of sympathy brought composure and hope to the dying, and their consecrated hands performed, with its impressive ceremonial, the last solemn rites of the Church for the dead. Despite the weakness of faith characteristic of the military profession, and especially marked in the minds of soldiers of fortune, the exhortations and labors of the Spanish clergy played no inconsiderable part in the Reconquest. No matter how skeptical a Castilian prince might be on inconvenient points of doctrine,—and few in that age were sincerely devout,—they rarely neglected the punctilious observance of the ritual of the Church, and, what was even more indispensable in the eyes of the clergy, the constant and liberal support of its ministers.

Among the Moslems, on the other hand, there was far less of that unity and confidence which contribute so much to the certainty and ease of victory. The generals of the Andalusians distrusted their troops; the sovereigns suspected each other. It was no secret that public sentiment had been hostile to the enlistment of the Africans, and that their presence was only the last resort of a desperate emergency. The Spanish Arabs regarded the Berbers rather as intruders than as allies, while the intrepid warriors of the Desert looked down with contempt on an effeminate soldiery unpractised in arms, arrayed in the silken vestments formerly allotted to women, who were not strong enough to endure the fatigues of an ordinary campaign, whose courage was doubtful, and who had long since demonstrated their incapacity to even partially recover the prestige or to defend the remains of a once magnificent empire. The defiant seizure of Algeziras had raised the most alarming apprehensions as to the ultimate designs of Yusuf. The ambition of that prince was known in every city of Spain. Moorish traders and spies had brought back from the court of Morocco accounts of menaced invasion, descriptions of fortresses equipped to cover a possible retreat, mysterious hints of a prospective gigantic Hispano-African monarchy. Each Andalusian, as he viewed the swarthy and ferocious legions of the invader, reflected, with terror, that he might even then, by increasing the power of his allies, be indirectly contributing to the subjugation of his country and the enslavement of himself.

No one was more disturbed than Motamid. By every device familiar to that superstitious age, he endeavored to read the signs of futurity and, with the aid of means emphatically condemned by his religion as idolatrous, to ascertain the inscrutable will of God. His attendants carefully noted the occurrence of every mysterious omen and augury. The court astrologers were kept busy with gnomon and astrolabe observing the positions of the planets and the propitious or unfavorable indications of the heavens.

Before dawn, on the twenty-third day of October, 1086, word reached the Moslem camp that the enemy was in motion. The suspicions of the officers of Motamid were verified, and the appointment of a day for the engagement had been only a ruse to facilitate a surprise. The situation of the Andalusians was critical. Their camp was not fortified. Their deficiency in numbers and lack of discipline rendered them ill-fitted to withstand the attack of the entire Christian army. Messenger after messenger was despatched to Yusuf representing the danger. But the Berber chieftain, although his troops were under arms, still remained inactive. He had matured a design of whose success he was confident, and he now only awaited a favorable opportunity for its execution. Without the least solicitude for his allies, whose sarcastic allusions to the intellectual inferiority and uncouth manners of his race had embittered the prejudice already existing between the two nations, he was not unwilling that they should expose their weakness by vainly imploring the aid of those whom they had repeatedly insulted. With the first shock of battle the Andalusians were thrown into disorder, and all, except the soldiers of Motamid, who were soon surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers, fled ignominiously from the field. The Prince of Seville and his followers, although taken at such a fatal disadvantage, sustained with unshaken firmness the furious onslaught of the Christian host. Motamid himself nobly redeemed upon that glorious day the tarnished reputation of his house, and emulated the exploits of the ancient heroes of the khalifate by the performance of prodigies of valor. He courted death and martyrdom in the very thickest of the fight. He was twice wounded, and had three horses killed under him. His armor was broken; his sword dripped with the blood of his enemies; and the heap of corpses which lay before him attested the strength of his arm and the dauntless resolution of his spirit. At length a large reinforcement of Africans arrived, and the diversion they caused permitted the Andalusians a momentary respite. In the mean time the crafty Yusuf, favored by intervening mountains, had gained the rear of the army of Alfonso, and suddenly descended like an avalanche on the Christian camp. Enveloped by thousands of ferocious warriors, the guard was instantly cut to pieces. The tents were set on fire, and the Castilians saw with astonishment and dismay the conflagration of their camp and the plunder of their equipage. Day was breaking as the forces of the Moslems bore down upon their rear. The strange aspect, the odor, and the discordant cries of the camels, of which there were hundreds in the Berber army, frightened the horses of the Christians and threw them into confusion. Motamid’s division, now become the assailants,—for the front of the battle had been reversed through the unexpected manœuvre of the Africans,—inspired by the hope of victory, redoubled its efforts. Thus taken unawares, crowded within a narrow compass, and attacked on opposite sides, the numerical superiority of the Christians was rather a serious impediment than an advantage. Their ranks, disordered by the camels, doubled back upon each other; the closeness of their array prevented effective action; and those exposed to the scimetars of the Berber horsemen were unable either to retire or to defend themselves. In the long series of sanguinary engagements which marked the progress of the Reconquest, none was more stubbornly contested than the battle of Zallaca. Time and again the Moslem position was taken and lost. The pride and valor of the Castilians contested with determined obstinacy the field which a few hours before they had thought already won. The return of the fugitive Andalusians, the prowess of the soldiers of Motamid, and the charge of the guards of Yusuf decided the doubtful fortune of the day. The wavering of the Christian army soon became a rout, the rout a massacre. The infuriated Africans, unaccustomed to the usages of civilized warfare, gave no quarter to their fleeing and helpless enemies. The flower of the Castilian nobility perished. The entire loss of the Christians was more than twenty thousand. The infantry was scattered, and Alfonso, dangerously wounded with the dagger of one of Yusuf’s guards, succeeded in escaping with but five hundred followers. The approach of darkness alone prevented the utter annihilation of the Christian army.

The battle of Zallaca was not attended with the advantageous and important results to the Moslem cause which its decisive character would naturally indicate. Inordinate greed and official negligence permitted the escape of the wounded monarch, whose capture would have been a fitting termination to such a victory. The clumsy horses of the Christian knights were no match in speed or endurance for the swift coursers of the Desert. The condition and departure of Alfonso and his escort—none of whom escaped unhurt—had been observed, yet the plunder of the fallen and the rich spoils of the camp possessed greater charms for the Berber soldiery than the seizure of a captive whose ransom might be worth a kingdom. The call to prayer upon the battle-field was made by the muezzin from an elevation formed of the heads of thousands of slaughtered Christians.

The day after the battle, Yusuf, who had bestowed his share of the booty on his Moorish allies, received intelligence of the death of his son at Ceuta, and, his mission for the time accomplished and the security of his allies assured, he returned to his dominions, leaving a strong detachment of experienced troops under command of the Prince of Seville.

The danger which had threatened the Moorish dominions on the northern side having been disposed of, Motamid, elated by the distinction he had gained at the battle of Zallaca, determined to attempt the expulsion of the Christians from Eastern Spain. This, as he was well aware, would prove no easy undertaking. The provinces of Valencia and Murcia were at that time controlled by the most formidable bands of mercenaries, adventurers, and outlaws in Europe. The principal seat of this military banditti was Aledo, a fortress occupying the summit of an isolated mountain, and whose defences, natural and artificial, were supposed to be proof against the utmost skill of the mediæval engineer. Here were conveyed indiscriminately the sacrilegious plunder of mosques and churches, the hard-earned possessions of the husbandman, the enslaved peasantry of the Valencian and Murcian villages, and the beautiful female captives of Andalusia. The robbers domiciled in this fortress served under Castilian officers and were nominally Christians, but their allegiance to both creed and crown was precarious; destitute of faith, religion, or loyalty they were composed of the dregs of every nation, and even many renegade Moslems were enlisted in their ranks. The garrison of Aledo could muster thirteen thousand fighting men.

The victory of Zallaca, whose consequences were not permanent even in the region where it had been obtained, had in nowise affected the distant provinces of Eastern Spain. The Moorish population were daily more and more harassed by raids and enforced contributions; the inhabitants of the most fertile districts were greatly diminished in numbers by violence and flight; and it was evident that erelong the feeble remnant of the industrious race which had transformed that portion of the Peninsula into a paradise must be either enslaved or exterminated by the outlaws of Valencia and Aledo.

Motamid, whose meritorious intention to avenge the injuries of the Arabs of the eastern principalities was further justified by the fact that Lorca and Murcia both owed him allegiance—the one by right of inheritance, the other by the title of voluntary submission—and could consequently demand his protection, having assembled his army, which included the Almoravides whom Yusuf had placed under his command, began his march towards Murcia.

But the expedition, commenced with overweening confidence and vainglorious boasts of success, ended in disgrace and failure. The presages declared by the astrologers to be favorable proved delusive. In the first encounter with the Christians, three thousand of the soldiers of Seville were cut to pieces by one-tenth of that number of the enemy. The invasion of Murcia was productive of nothing advantageous. The Berbers of Yusuf, ashamed of the pusillanimity of their allies, sympathized with their adversaries; the designs of Motamid were regularly communicated to the officials of the enemy; and the Prince of Seville, alarmed by the mutinous clamors of his followers, abandoned the enterprise in disgust.

It was now evident that the Christian power was firmly established in the East, and that the unaided resources of the Moslems were unable to overturn it. All eyes were again turned towards the court of Morocco, and emissaries of the cities affected by the curse of Christian brigandage importuned with repeated solicitations the intervention of the redoubtable Sultan of Africa. The latter, however, while receiving these petitions with courtesy, awaited the action of some one high in authority. At length the exhortations of the faquis, who saw with horror the encroachments of the infidel and the consequent peril of their order, prevailed upon Motamid himself to assume the office of representative of the religious and political interests of the disheartened Moslems of Spain. Yusuf welcomed the royal ambassador with every token of respect; he promised immediate compliance with his request; and, his preparations completed, he again appeared in Andalusia at the head of a well-appointed army.

The siege of Aledo was formed, but, as the place was impregnable to escalade, it was found necessary to reduce it by siege, a proceeding whose delay could not fail to operate to the injury of the allies, impatient of discipline and unaccustomed to the monotonous and inactive routine of the camp. Acting under the instruction of their masters, the partisans of Yusuf, who abounded among the Spanish Moslems, promoted by every resource of intrigue the aims of the ambitious Sultan. His following, especially since his triumph over the infidels, was formidable in numbers and influence. The great body of the nation, taxed and re-taxed, alternately raided by Christians and robbed by collectors of the revenue, oppressed with arbitrary impositions, their privacy invaded, their families insulted, their children enslaved, their property destroyed, were willing, in sheer desperation, to welcome any change as a blessing. The government, which they paid so dearly to maintain, was not able to protect them from outrage for a single hour. In addition to this numerous body of partisans, Yusuf could calculate on the support of the kadis, the muftis, the faquis, and the imams,—all of the subordinate officers of the government, all of the ecclesiastical guides of the people. These two classes regarded the ignorant and fanatical Sultan almost in the light of a Mussulman saint. The ministers of religion especially, whose material interests were at stake in the struggle impending between Moslem tyranny and Christian persecution, were among the most ardent supporters of a change of dynasty. Their admiration was rewarded, and in part created, by the attentive reverence with which Yusuf listened to their admonitions and adopted their counsels. On the other side were the philosophers and the poets, the scientific and literary society of the various capitals, still animated by the intellectual principle which had long been the boast and glory of the khalifate. As a rule, the lords of the various principalities were then, and had been, almost without exception, generous patrons of literary genius. The courts of Seville, Malaga, Almeria, Murcia, and Toledo were inspired by the example of their once celebrated prototype, Cordova. Freedom of opinion was indulged without restraint. The inconsistencies and vices of the theologians were held up to public derision by satirical poets amidst the applause of sympathetic and delighted audiences. The atheistical doctrines maintained by the philosophers with all the resources of learning and eloquence were the scandal and aversion of the orthodox and fanatical believer. The polished Andalusians ridiculed without mercy the blunders and illiteracy of Yusuf. He was unable to express himself fluently in Arabic; indeed, he was scarcely familiar with the rudiments of that tongue. The similies and rhetorical beauties of poetical diction he could neither understand nor enjoy. Like most uneducated persons he was profoundly superstitious, a failing by which his religious counsellors in case their expectations should be realized would not be slow to profit. In his eyes, the opinions of the faquis were oracular; and the promotion of this caste to the practical control of the government boded no good to the favorites of royalty, whose scornful speeches rankled in the minds of the objects of their sarcasm and contempt. A large body of respectable citizens—merchants, farmers, artificers—joined with the philosophers and the wits in opposition to the establishment of an African dynasty. Long before the fall of the khalifate,—a catastrophe not without reason imputed to Berber agency,—that name had been a term of reproach. Savage mercenaries from beyond the strait had repeatedly sacked the capital; had destroyed the magnificent cities of Medina-al-Zahrâ and Zahira; had spread desolation through every province of Andalusia; had swept away forever the proud evidences of a civilization which had been the glory of Europe for centuries. A series of disastrous civil wars had been the consequence of the attempts of these odious foreigners to establish, at the expense of the legitimate proprietors of the Peninsula, a vexatious and intolerable tyranny. Such were the conflicting factions whose machinations were carried on in the face of the enemy before the walls of Aledo.

But a single consideration restrained, for the time, the impulses of Yusuf. He had solemnly sworn before his first expedition that he would attempt nothing to the prejudice of his allies. From that obligation the most trusted of his ecclesiastical guides, with an effrontery that would have done credit to a Jesuit, now promised to release him. The prevailing arguments of their casuistry were based on the necessity of protecting the transcendent interests of religion, which were seriously threatened by the disorganized condition of the entire country. The scruples of Yusuf were, however, not entirely removed by these representations, and, while he was still hesitating, the broils of the Andalusian princes turned aside his attention from the engrossing projects of personal ambition. Motasim, the Berber lord of Almeria, had for years been on friendly terms with Motamid. An indiscreet remark of the latter reflecting on the Sultan was reported to him; it was traced to Motasim; and the mutual denunciations of the rivals distracted the peace of the camp. The claim of Seville to the suzerainty of Murcia was another source of discord, which eventually caused the defection of the people of that kingdom and the retention of supplies vitally essential to the subsistence of the besiegers. The dissensions of his allies, the inclemency of the season, the scarcity of provisions, and the information that an army of Christians was approaching induced Yusuf to raise the siege. The casualties of war and famine had greatly reduced the garrison of Aledo during the four months that the place was invested. The walls had been weakened by the military engines, and a determined effort on the part of the besiegers would have easily carried it by storm. Alfonso, finding its citadel untenable, completed its destruction that it might not be occupied by the enemy, and, without any further demonstration, returned to his dominions.

The retreat of the Moorish army was the signal for fresh intrigues on the part of the malcontents. They feared that the withdrawal of Yusuf in the face of the enemy would redound to his injury by diminishing his prestige and by impairing the confidence of the masses in his ability to contend successfully with the power of Castile. The Kadi of Granada was the most active of these conspirators. His treasonable designs were detected by his sovereign, and he was imprisoned, but afterwards escaped to Cordova. The fears of his comrades incited them to redoubled energy. The princes of Malaga and Granada were declared in an assembly of muftis and faquis to have forfeited their rights on account of alleged breaches of the law and persecutions of the expounders of religion; and Yusuf was enjoined, as the representative of justice and the avenger of the Faith, to seize their dominions. Encouraged by the assurances of these hypocritical partisans, the African prince with his entire army marched on Granada. Abdallah, the sovereign of that kingdom, was conspicuous for cowardice and incompetency among the degenerate Moslems of his time. He had inherited none of the martial virtues of his Berber ancestors. He was a patron of letters, but his studies had not awakened in him either the desire for glory or the patient resignation to the decrees of fate which are among the fruits of assiduous research and meditation. The models of Mohammedan greatness inspired him with no wish to imitate their exploits. The sight of a drawn sword threw him into convulsions. His habitual indecision, even in matters of trifling moment, provoked the derision of his courtiers. Unlike his race, he was insensible to the charms of female beauty, a defect which excited more contempt than his pusillanimity among a people with whom impotence is considered a judgment of God. He was able to write passable verses; he was familiar with the most celebrated Arab authors; he excelled in the art of chirography, and had copied and illuminated a Koran, whose reputed perfection was probably not wholly due to flattery in an age fertile in accomplished scribes. These arts, however meritorious, were far from qualifying a ruler for governing a kingdom during a period of universal disorder. To add to his embarrassment, the court of Abdallah was permeated with treason. The nobility and the people hated each other, but both hated and despised the King still more; and their mutual animosities were, for the time, suspended that they might avenge their wrongs on him whom they were accustomed to regard as a common enemy. The viziers were in constant communication with Yusuf and with the exiled Kadi, Abu-Giafar, who, from his refuge at Cordova, directed the movements of the conspirators.

The Almoravides had already approached within a few miles of Granada, which was almost defenceless. Alarmed by the suspicions and threats of Abdallah, his councillors had secretly fled from the city. The despairing monarch had previously implored the aid of Alfonso, but the King of Castile had, for some unknown reason, neglected this rare opportunity to enlarge his dominions and remained deaf to his entreaties. A large force of artisans and slaves, whose fidelity was more than suspicious, was enlisted, who, even had they been so disposed, could not be expected to face with any prospect of success the ferocious veterans of Yusuf. Finally, convinced of his helplessness, Abdallah concluded to throw himself upon the generosity of his powerful enemy. Surrounded with all the pomp afforded by the richest principality in Spain, he rode out one morning from the principal gate of his capital. The cavalcade was preceded by the Christian guards equipped with a splendor not equalled since the time of the Ommeyades. They were clothed in many-colored robes of silk; their weapons sparkled with jewels; the housings of their white Arabian horses were of brocade profusely embroidered with gold. In the rear rode the monarch attended by his household and encompassed by eunuchs with drawn scimetars. A multitude of citizens, including a considerable number of the partisans of Yusuf, closed the splendid procession.

All this display, however, produced no other effect than to excite the amazement and cupidity of the Sultan. Abdallah, in flagrant violation of the rites of hospitality, was placed in chains, and his escort was despoiled. The gates of Granada were thrown open; the Almoravides entered in triumph; by public proclamation the exorbitant taxes which had been such a prolific source of discontent were declared illegal and abolished; and only those sanctioned by Mussulman laws and usages were pronounced binding upon the people. The enthusiasm which greeted the appearance of Yusuf after this concession to popular clamor was unbounded. He was universally hailed as the champion of right, the friend of the oppressed, the restorer of Islam. Vast crowds blocked his passage through the streets. Thousands pressed forward to kiss the hem of his garment. The satisfaction he derived from these evidences of popularity—the more extraordinary considering the bitter prejudice existing in Granada against the Berbers—was enhanced by the contemplation of the riches of his new conquest. On the future site of the Alhambra stood a palace, whose beauty made it a not unworthy precursor of that incomparable abode of royal magnificence and luxury. Within its vaults were treasures of inestimable value, fruits of the rapacity exercised by many successive princes of Granada. There were deposited heaps of precious stones; tapestry and hangings of the finest silk blazing with jewels; a profusion of gold and silver plate; weapons of marvellous workmanship; exquisite vessels of porcelain and rock-crystal. No small portion of this treasure consisted of articles of personal adornment,—chains, bracelets, necklaces, and amulets. The gem of the collection was a string of pearls, four hundred in number, perfectly matched in size and color, and each valued at a hundred pieces of gold. These precious objects, however, were but inconsiderable when compared with the mercantile and agricultural wealth of the province from which they had been derived. The Vega, or plain of Granada, had already reached that remarkable state of cultivation which subsequently delighted the eyes and stimulated the avarice of the subjects of Ferdinand and Isabella. Its broad expanse was dotted with innumerable hamlets and plantations. Its divisions were marked by hedges of odoriferous shrubs. The silver threads of the canals with which it was everywhere intersected glittered in the sunlight, whose intensity was softened by the light vapors which constantly overhung the lovely valley. The numerous groves of mulberry-trees scattered over the smiling prospect suggested the extent and prosperity of the silk industry, while the vast plantations of oranges and olives, the pomegranate orchards, the multiple harvests, the gardens of valuable exotics, disclosed the opulence of the proprietors and the exuberant fertility of the soil. The predominance of Hebrew influence had raised the products of Granada to high estimation in the commercial world. Its bazaars were well furnished with every commodity which could satisfy the simple requirements of the poor or the pampered luxury of the rich. The political commotions which had for so long disturbed the Peninsula, while impairing the prosperity of the kingdom, had by no means checked the enterprise or materially damaged the resources of its population. The Jew always stood on neutral ground. The victorious faction often applied to him for advice and loans; the unsuccessful one was ever ready to pledge its valuables with him on the hazard of a new revolution. The elevation of one of his sect to the honorable dignity of vizier had been of incalculable advantage to his social and mercantile interests. It had afforded protection and respectability to his avocations; it had enabled him to project and mature colossal financial enterprises. Thus he plundered both sides and prospered. Citizens, proscribed for political offences, and Christians, for whom ecclesiastical denunciation had no terrors, transacted their affairs through his agency. His ships were to be found in every harbor; his factors were established in every seaport; his wares were exposed for sale in every capital of the Mediterranean and its adjacent seas. At the period of the occupation of Granada by the Almoravides, its commerce, in wealth and volume, probably exceeded that of all the other states of the Peninsula, Christian and Moslem, combined.

No one of ordinary intelligence could still be ignorant of the intentions of Yusuf, yet the Andalusian princes, with obsequious servility, felicitated him in the most flattering terms on his success. The Sultan felt that it was now time to throw off his disguise. He habitually treated his royal sycophants with marked discourtesy. The capture of Granada was followed by that of Malaga. Then it was, when too late, that the Moorish emirs took the alarm. They agreed among themselves to withdraw their support from the Almoravides and to suspend all intercourse with them. In their perplexity and despair they adopted the fatal plan of soliciting a defensive union with the Christians, an expedient which had invariably proved fatal to their interests. The King of Castile readily consented to an alliance which, whatever might be its result, must necessarily increase his power by fostering the mutual enmity of the contending Moslems. Aware of the profound importance of confirming his operations by the sanction of judicial and ecclesiastical authority, Yusuf now demanded of the kadis and the muftis an opinion on the legality of seizing the kingdoms of his allies, which they had proved unable to either govern or to defend. The opinion, when prepared, was all that the most scrupulous casuist could desire. Its authors assumed responsibility for the future acts of Yusuf, and declared it was not only his right but his duty to dethrone and plunder his degenerate allies, who fortunately no longer possessed the means of successful resistance. To avoid any future complications which might affect his standing among the devout, Yusuf caused this opinion of the highest authorities of Spain to be submitted to the most distinguished jurists, divines, and scholars of the Moslem world. All, without exception, confirmed it; and the African Sultan, having in the mean time returned to Morocco, issued orders to his lieutenant, Ibn-Abi-Bekr, to commence hostilities without further delay. Tarifa, Cordova, Carmona were taken, and then the Almoravide leader, determined to strike a decisive blow, pitched his camp before Seville. The besiegers had many sympathizers in Motamid’s capital, and their party had been greatly strengthened by the uniform success which had hitherto attended their enterprises. The indecision and the apprehensions of the Prince forbade the adoption of summary measures against these conspirators, who prosecuted, almost without concealment, their treasonable schemes in the face of the court and the garrison. The last resource of Motamid depended on the movements of a Christian force which the King of Castile sent to his aid; but the latter was beaten in a decisive battle; the fleet which defended the city on the side of the river was burned soon afterwards; the fortifications were stormed; and the citizens, after a prolonged resistance, submitted to the cruelties and the depredations of a barbarous and rapacious enemy.

Motamid with his family and his guards still held the citadel. The last prince of the Beni-Abbad had displayed in his extremity the courage and resolution of a Roman veteran. When at last convinced of the futility of the astrological predictions which had deluded him, he abandoned the society of his charlatans and exchanged the astrolabe for the scimetar. With eagerness he courted death in the heat of the assault, but, despite the most reckless exposure, he escaped without a wound. Encompassed on all sides by the enemy, the citadel could not long be defended, and all overtures for a capitulation were met by the reply that no conditions would be granted. At length Motamid sought the camp of the Almoravides alone; the citadel was surrendered; and the instant evacuation of Ronda and Mutola, which were in charge of two of his sons, was demanded by the imperious Yusuf. Motamid was sent to Aghmat, a city near Morocco, where, strictly confined and his most pressing wants neglected, it was with great difficulty that his family, condemned by necessity to the most menial occupations and clothed in rags, could obtain sufficient food for the sustenance of life.

The capture of Seville was immediately followed by the submission of Almeria, Denia, Xativa, and Murcia. The principality of Badajoz, which comprehended the greater portion of the modern kingdom of Portugal, was overrun and conquered; the recent acquisitions of the Christians shared the fate of the Moorish domain; and the court of Castile heard with dismay of the sudden loss of a territory which had necessitated so much labor and time to acquire. Motawakkil, Prince of Badajoz, after his treasures had been wrung from him by torture, was put to death on the highway by the express command of the Moslem general. Of the important cities of the South, Valencia alone remained. It was held by the Cid, who, with a heroism that largely redeemed his bad faith and notorious inhumanity, defied for five years the combined resources of the Almoravide monarchy.

In the annals of history or the creations of romance there exists no individual whose personality is at once so well defined and so obscure as that of Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar. Fiction has adorned his character and his career with the noble attributes of piety, valor, generosity, military genius, religious zeal. To the ignorant and pompous Castilian, he is to-day the embodiment of chivalrous knighthood. The Church still regards him as one of the earliest and most devoted of her champions. Historical tradition represents him as one of the founders of the Spanish monarchy. The oldest ballad in the Castilian language was composed by some unknown genius to recount his exploits, which have also been celebrated in innumerable dramas, epics, and romances. Not less than a hundred and fifty of the latter have to-day a place in the literature of Spain. On the other hand, respectable and well-informed authorities have doubted his existence. Grave historians and critics have disputed the evidence of his identity. Scholars whose intellectual attainments entitle them to respect have pronounced the famous hero a myth, and have strenuously maintained that the accounts of his deeds which have descended to posterity are nothing more than romantic fables. In all the domain of historical criticism, there is no question more fascinating than that which involves the existence and the achievements of the Cid. The fact is—and out of it has grown all the ambiguity connected with his name—that this extraordinary personage was made up of two distinct characters. The Cid of romance was the exemplar of courtesy, of magnanimity, of honor, the chivalrous avenger of the oppressed, the model of every Christian virtue. The Cid of history was something very different, and it is with him alone that we have now to deal.

The laborious investigations of distinguished Orientalists, and among them the exhaustive and valuable researches of Dozy, have established beyond peradventure the existence and the deeds of the Cid. From Arabic manuscripts, undeciphered until the middle of this century, have been gradually collected and compiled the incidents which compose his eventful and stirring career. The evident authenticity of these memorials, the absence of any motive to exaggerate the prowess or the accomplishments of an enemy, the well-known accuracy of the Arab historians, the interesting phases of life which they depict, the honest indignation of the writers, unaccustomed to the systematic disregard of solemn engagements, the detailed enumeration of the spoils of the battle and the foray, place them among the most valuable contributions of mediæval antiquity. Their publication and study have removed the idle myths, the absurdities, the irreconcilable contradictions, which until then had obscured the story of the idolized hero of Old Castile.

Of his titles, by which he is much better known to readers than by his family name, that of the Cid, now distinctively applied to him, was an honorable appellation, a corrupted form of the Arabic Sidi, or Lord, once given indiscriminately to persons of rank by the Moslems. Its prevalent use during the Middle Ages was principally due to the fact that public documents, epistles, and treaties, addressed to or executed by Castilian and Moorish dignitaries, were drawn up conjointly in Latin and Arabic, and not infrequently in the latter language alone. The other title, Campeador, was derived from the custom of chosen warriors defying each other to single combat in the face of their respective armies, a favorite mode among semicivilized nations of exhibiting individual bravery and address, and older than the famous encounter between David and Goliath. The political disorganization of the entire Peninsula, even more apparent in the Christian than in the Moslem states, the still doubtful and unsettled relations between ruler and subject, the dangerous liberties enjoyed by ambitious individuals who had the courage and the insolence to demand them, the imperative necessities the monarch was under to propitiate his powerful vassals, the presence and example of foreign adventurers, unaccustomed to legal restraint and acknowledging no authority but that of the sword, all of these abnormal social conditions rendered it a matter of little difficulty for a man of valor and energy to rise to great power and eminence in the state. In those days personal prowess was the highest title to distinction. There was no room in the disposition and calling of the rude soldier of fortune for the exercise of the milder virtues. War was conducted with a revolting brutality that would have disgraced a race of savages. Familiarity with scenes of blood had blunted all the nobler instincts of human nature, and even gentle women countenanced by their presence and their approbation deeds from which they should have recoiled with horror. The ecclesiastical order promoted by its advice and absolved by its spiritual power the perpetration of massacres, rapes, tortures, the starvation of prisoners, the repudiation of treaties. No preponderating influence attached to the occupancy of the throne. The prerogatives of the sovereign had not yet been accurately determined. His authority, based upon ill-defined precedent and tradition, was in general limited by his ability to enforce his commands. The great vassals of the crown frequently defied him, cast him into prison, drove him into exile. The offence of treason was subjected to wide latitude of interpretation and to even greater flexibility in the application of its punishment. Sometimes it meant one thing, at other times another. The most notorious rebels were often pardoned, and again received into favor. Insignificant culprits were frequently condemned to endure the most severe penalties. A leader who had distinguished himself in battle, who was indulgent to his followers and liberal to the populace, who considered clemency as an evidence of cowardice, and the extermination of an enemy as a military virtue, was sure to excite more admiration than the pampered heir of a score of kings.

The division of the Castilian territory into so many parts, each claimed by numerous pretenders, was favorable to the independence of captains who could command the support of a strong body of followers. Under such circumstances, the royal power could not be centralized or exerted with effect. While feudalism, in the strictest acceptation of the term, never obtained in the Spanish monarchy,—and it was not until the middle of the thirteenth century that the power of the nobles began to antagonize that of the crown,—an analogous system of protection and service was generally recognized by the laws as controlling the relations of vassal and suzerain, a condition, indeed, almost inevitable in the early stages of civilized society. The leaders who had renounced these obligations, or were outlawed for crime, constituted a formidable element of discord in the Peninsula. They styled themselves “lords,” but they differed from highwaymen only in that they exercised on a larger scale and with greater impunity the popular occupation of robbery. They constructed their castles on isolated and inaccessible eminences, whence they could discover from afar the approach of danger or the welcome appearance of the rich and unprotected traveller. Needy adventurers and proscribed criminals of every nation and of every religion enlisted under their banners. Prototypes of the Italian condottieri, their swords and their services were for sale to the highest bidder. When unemployed and thrown upon their own resources, they plundered indiscriminately without regard to the nationality, religion, or calling of their victims. A successful freebooter often commanded an army of thousands of desperadoes. The most popular and renowned of these outlaws, in an age when judicial restrictions and regal authority were subordinated to military force, was Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, the Campeador.

The latter having incurred the hatred of Alfonso VI. on account of the degradation of that monarch when forced to purge himself of complicity in the death of his brother, which transaction the Cid was believed to have suggested, or, at all events, to have favored, and this prejudice having been aggravated by the alleged peculation of treasure and tribute intrusted to the Cid by Motamid, the offender was peremptorily banished from the realm of Castile. The disgraced partisan, after an ineffectual attempt to enter the service of the Count of Barcelona, applied for military command to the Emir of Saragossa. That principality was then governed by the martial and enlightened princes of the Beni-Hud, whose superiority over most of the other Moslem dynasties had been demonstrated by the pre-eminence of their literary accomplishments not less than by their renown in arms. For more than thirty years, Moctadir, the reigning sovereign, had been engaged in constant hostilities with his neighbors. In spite of the present unpropitious condition of his fortunes, the Cid was attended by a considerable number of followers, and his repeated experience with Christian mercenaries had taught Moctadir that the services of such allies were not to be despised. They were therefore received with every mark of distinction, and were mustered into the army. This accession proved a most valuable one to the Emir and his sons, among whom he soon afterwards divided his kingdom. The arms of Rodrigo were everywhere victorious. The partisan warfare by which the northern provinces of the Peninsula were incessantly afflicted was thoroughly adapted to the exercise of his malignant genius. His raids exceeded in boldness and success the most venturesome enterprises hitherto undertaken by the Moslems. His infidel comrades stood aghast at the atrocities committed by his soldiers,—at the wholesale butchery of defenceless captives, at the unblushing violation of solemn compacts, at the ingenuity of tortures devised to compel the discovery of treasure. The expeditions of Rodrigo were carried to the borders of France. He repeatedly routed the Catalans, the hereditary enemies of his patron. He captured the Count of Barcelona, an exploit which acquired for the Emirate of Saragossa great political advantages through the negotiation of a favorable treaty. He spread desolation far and wide through the territory of Aragon. The wealth derived from these predatory excursions was incredible. The Moorish prince regarded his ally with peculiar favor because of the impartiality he displayed in the collection of plunder. The vessels of the Christian altar were no more sacred in the eyes of this impious freebooter than the spoils of a Moslem castle. As a natural result of his achievements, his popularity among the Moslems of Saragossa exceeded that enjoyed by any other individual. On his return from a foray, the inhabitants of the capital received him with acclamations that might well arouse the jealous envy of the sovereign.

The oppression of Valencia by bands of lawless soldiers of fortune and brigands had been probably more severe than that endured by any other province of the Peninsula. But the rapacity and fierceness of these troublesome guests were now to be aggravated by the presence and the counsels of a leader experienced in every device of warfare and extortion. The opulence of Valencia and the presence of many of his countrymen as the nominal guards of Kadir attracted the Cid to that region, where his pre-eminent talents for intrigue and villany soon gave him a decided ascendant over all competitors. He plundered the defenceless inhabitants under pretence of punishing rebellion. He extorted great sums from the rich ostensibly for the support of the government. No class was exempt from his ruinous perquisitions. Even the clergy were forced to surrender their treasures. He unblushingly assumed the actual direction of affairs which were administered in the name of the Prince of Valencia; and as a compensation for his valuable services appropriated from the provincial treasury every month the enormous sum of ten thousand pieces of gold.

The Cid had long coveted the possession of Valencia. That delightful province, which, under the temperate zone and in the enjoyment of an equable and salubrious climate, yields with lavish bounty the choicest productions of every clime, had been the prey of many successive adventurers. The richness of its agricultural resources, the variety and frequency of its harvests, the excellence of its fruits, the profits of its commerce, the beauty of its women, imparted to that highly favored region a peculiar charm in the eyes of the profligate soldier of fortune. The government of Kadir, sustained by Castilian mercenaries, had been the scourge of the land. Wealthy nobles had been impoverished by the exactions of the usurper. The Jews, at first a most profitable source of revenue, had been driven away by persecution. Extensive districts of inexhaustible fertility had been entirely abandoned. The tyranny of the government, the depredations of the mercenaries and the brigands, made property so insecure that rich estates were disposed of for trifling sums by their frightened owners, and the great quantity of land thrown upon the market caused it to continually depreciate in value. The invasion of the Almoravides was followed by the withdrawal of the Castilians from Valencia, and the decisive action of Zallaca relieved the apprehensions of the people of that kingdom from present danger of interference by the Christians. The opportunity for relief was too favorable to be overlooked. Every vassal and tributary of Kadir either declared his independence or placed himself under the protection of some friendly neighbor. The defenceless condition of that prince and the encouragement of disaffected citizens impelled Mondhir, Lord of Denia, to besiege his capital with a strong force of Arabs and Catalans. Kadir, driven to extremity, sent an envoy to conclude an alliance with Mostain, Emir of Saragossa. The latter, while expressing the greatest sympathy for the Prince of Valencia and declaring his intention to relieve him at once from his danger, was at the same time engaged in negotiations with the Cid with a view to despoiling Kadir of his kingdom. By the terms of this agreement, the capital and the province were to be delivered to the Emir and the plunder of every description was to be the reward of the Cid. Mondhir, unable to contend with such formidable antagonists, hastened to raise the siege at their approach. The Prince of Valencia, while profuse in his expression of gratitude, refused to comply with the provisions of the treaty he had concluded with Mostain, being sure of the neutrality of the Cid, which he had secretly purchased with gifts of enormous value. Mostain, having thus rendered an important service to an ungrateful and perfidious ally, returned in a rage to his capital.

The unexampled duplicity of the Cid was now manifested in his overtures to different rulers whose interests he declared his readiness to promote, but all of whom he was equally willing to betray for the accomplishment of his own designs. He represented to the rival monarchs, Mondhir and Mostain, that he would co-operate with either, at any time, in besieging Valencia. Then he sent an embassy to Alfonso, renewing his allegiance and promising him not only the dominions of Kadir, but also those of the other two Moslem princes whose hospitality and confidence he constantly enjoyed and abused. Notwithstanding their repeated experience of his perfidy, these monarchs were led by their fears and their aspirations to be again deceived by the Cid. It was not strange, however, that his support should have been eagerly solicited by every sovereign. No soldier made war with such ruthless barbarity. When he took a city not one stone was left upon another. No commander enjoyed such prestige. His consent had been necessary to secure the accession of the King of Castile. His arms were regarded as invincible. He had enriched the city of Saragossa with the plunder of its enemies. The horrible crimes he had committed made his name a bugbear wherever it was known, and had greatly dimmed the lustre of his renown. His followers numbered three thousand well-equipped veterans, a force superior to that controlled by any Moorish prince, and fully equal, man for man, to the vaunted chivalry of Castile.

Having received assurances of the favorable disposition of Alfonso, the Cid returned to the court of that monarch, who restored to him his estates and presented him with a commission by which he was invested with all the territory he might be able to conquer from the Moslems, subject only to the obligations of vassalage. The presence of the most famous military chieftain in Spain at the Castilian court produced great enthusiasm. He received alike the congratulations of the King, the compliments of the nobility, and the servile homage of the multitude. The adventurous youth of the monarchy hastened to enlist under his banner, and when he again advanced into the enemy’s country his command had increased to seven thousand men. During his absence, Mostain had renounced his alliance, and in company with Berenger, Count of Barcelona, had formed the siege of Valencia. The approach of the Castilians caused the abandonment of the enterprise, and the Cid, as has been previously mentioned, established a military protectorate over that kingdom. Summoned by Alfonso to assist in raising the siege of Aledo, his dilatory proceedings aroused suspicions of collusion with the enemy, and his indignant sovereign confiscated his property and estates and cast his family into prison. The latter were finally liberated, and the Cid, released from all responsibility to superior or ally and in command of an army of devoted followers, was free to prosecute without interference his atrocious schemes of oppression and rapine. This great force was now afforded the congenial employment of ravaging the provinces of Eastern Spain. The valleys of Valencia, Xativa, Tortosa were pillaged without mercy. In the fertile districts of Orihuela, outside of the city itself, not a single habitation, not even a wall, was spared. The Count of Barcelona was again beaten in a fiercely contested battle, and, taken prisoner with five thousand of his troops, was only able to secure his release by acknowledging himself the vassal of his conqueror. The power of the Cid now increased apace. Without a court, or even a fixed residence, he assumed the manners and displayed the arrogance of an independent potentate. The weaker Moslem states, unable to contend with success against his arms, purchased his forbearance by the payment of a ruinous tribute. Valencia, Segorbe, Liria, Almenara, Xerica, Alpuente, Olacau, Murviedro, Albarracin were included among his dependencies. Thousands of Mussulmans served under the banner of the most relentless enemy of their race. The family of Mondhir entreated him to assume the guardianship of the infant heir of that prince. From these sources he received an annual revenue of two hundred and twenty-five thousand pieces of gold,—three million two hundred thousand dollars,—a sum indicative of the vast wealth still possessed by provinces long subject to the ills of extortion, pillage, and depopulation, as well as of the power of a suzerain who, without the prestige of royal birth or the support of an established government, was able to levy and collect it. An expedition against the Moors of Granada, undertaken some time afterwards by Alfonso, ended unfortunately for the Christians, and the failure was, as usual, attributed to the treachery of the Cid. An ineffectual attempt was made to arrest him, and the King of Castile, assisted by a formidable fleet of four hundred vessels furnished by the Genoese and Pisans, his allies, proceeded to revenge his offended dignity by a determined attack on Valencia by sea and land. The Cid being at that time at Saragossa, and unable to enter or to defend the city which he already considered as his own, made a destructive raid into the territory of Alfonso, who was reduced to the necessity of withdrawing his forces to protect his own dominions. He sustained no inconsiderable loss by this proceeding of his rebellious vassal in the utter devastation of the country which marked his progress, as well as in the ruin of the populous city of Logroño, which was stormed and burnt to the ground by the army of Rodrigo. The abandonment of the siege and the absence of the Cid inspired the people of Valencia with the desire to again place that kingdom under Moslem rule. Ibn-Djahhaf, the principal kadi, aspired to emulate the example of Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, who, from the same office, had arisen to the high position of virtual ruler of Seville. The uncertain temper of their sovereign, himself an usurper and controlled by men foreign to the country and enemies to its religion, the distress arising from the incessantly interrupted operations of agriculture and trade, the onerous financial burdens imposed by caprice and injustice, the intolerable insults of the Christian soldiery, who habitually treated them as inferiors and slaves, had more than once driven the exasperated inhabitants to the verge of revolution. Now, encouraged by the exhortations of a man of such prominence as Ibn-Djahhaf, they eagerly welcomed the opportunity for revenge and independence. A picked body of Almoravides was quietly admitted into the city; the people rose in arms; the palace was sacked; Kadir escaped in the disguise of a woman, only to be taken soon afterwards and beheaded; and a Council of State, composed of nobles and modelled after the one which had formerly administered the government of Cordova with such remarkable success, was instituted. The authority of this august body was somewhat hampered, however, by the claims of the Almoravide commander, Abu-Nasr, who intimated that he would hold the city for his sovereign, as well as by the ridiculous pretensions of the Kadi, who assumed all the credit of the revolution, and whose incapacity became the more glaring when observed in connection with his theatrical postures and his feeble imitation of the dignity and attributes of royalty.

The Cid did not leave the new government long unmolested. His approach was announced by the flames and smoke of burning villages, and by the headlong flight of thousands of peasants who came pouring into Valencia. That lovely city was soon surrounded by a wide belt of blackness and desolation. Everything indicative of the bounty of nature or the ingenuity and prosperity of man was ruthlessly swept away. The settlements for miles around the capital were given to the torch. The numerous mills which lined the banks of the Guadalaviar, the villas of the wealthy citizens and the nobles, the boats, magazines, and warehouses were reduced to ashes. The suburbs were stormed and taken. Then the Valencians, without prospect of relief, opened negotiations with the Cid. Their overtures were received with favor; the Almoravide garrison retired; the former monthly tribute was renewed; and the city once more recognized the authority of the Castilian adventurer. But the Almoravide Sultan was not willing to abandon without a struggle such a rich prize as the kingdom of Valencia. News soon reached the capital that a powerful force was on the march to reduce it. The domination of the hated Berber seemed preferable to the insatiable rapacity of an infidel suzerain. The inhabitants rebelled, and the adherents and officers of the Cid were driven away. The gates were then closed; the supreme authority was vested in Ibn-Tahir by the tumultuous voice of the people; and the latter awaited with anxiety the arrival of the Almoravides. The Cid, who during the sedition was domiciled in one of the suburban palaces of the kings of Valencia, while powerless to prevent the defection of the city, was still able to retard the approach of the enemy. He caused the bridges to be broken down, and the dikes having been cut, the country, which for leagues had recently presented the appearance of a garden, was now transformed into a lake. Only a narrow causeway was left through the waters, and this approach could be easily defended by a handful of determined men against a numerous army.

These vigorous measures produced an unexpected result. Not willing to incur the hazard of an attack, and their provisions falling short, the Almoravides, whose watch-fires could already be seen from the towers of the city, retired. Dismay and terror now filled the minds of the Valencians. Unable to protect themselves, they knew not where to turn for aid. Ibn-Tahir, the chief magistrate, did not possess the talents necessary to inspire confidence in such a trying emergency, and his unpopularity reflected upon his family. The tribe of the Beni-Tahir was one of the oldest, the wealthiest, the most honorable in Valencia. But these considerations for public favor could not preserve it from the effects of the incompetency of its chief and the unreasoning fury of the multitude. Ibn-Tahir was deposed, and Ibn-Djahhaf, who, for his own ends, had diligently encouraged the prevailing discontent, was raised to power. A mob attacked the palace of the Beni-Tahir, and the members of that noble family were stoned, insulted, subjected to the most humiliating indignities, and finally sent in chains to the camp of the Cid. The latter offered his protection to Ibn-Djahhaf on the same terms upon which it had formerly been accorded to Kadir, but as he exacted the delivery of his son as a hostage, a condition which the suspicious Arab refused to accede to, negotiations were abruptly terminated. The army of the Cid now closely invested the city, which, unprepared for a siege, was soon exposed to the most frightful of calamities. The sufferings of the inhabitants became intense. The increasing famine caused the most disgusting substances, the most repulsive animals, to be eagerly devoured. Men fought for refuse in the turbid current of the sewers. A rat, esteemed a great delicacy, could hardly be procured for a piece of gold. The wealthy could still obtain a small amount of grain, which was jealously hoarded by its owners and only disposed of in small quantities and at fabulous prices. An ounce of barley sold readily for three dinars. When this supply was exhausted, they endeavored to sustain their failing strength with pieces of leather, leaves, bark, and such vegetation as could be gleaned in the gardens and court-yards of their mansions. The poor had no resource but cannibalism. In the midst of the universal distress, Ibn-Djahhaf, apparently unmindful of the future, maintained the state of a monarch. Within his gates there was no evidence of the want that was hourly driving thousands to despair and death, no sign of approaching retribution. His palace was the daily scene of literary discussions, of dances, of intoxication. A crowd of parasites enjoyed his bounty. The subsistence of the court was secured by the plunder of private granaries. The property of the dead and dying was confiscated. Remonstrance against this tyranny was punished with imprisonment. People fell and expired with hunger in the streets. Great crowds seeking an opportunity of escape constantly besieged the gates of the city. Those who succeeded in reaching the Christian lines were either butchered or sold as slaves. Humanity had no place in the policy of mediæval warfare, especially when conducted by banditti. Experience had demonstrated that a prisoner in the last stages of famine was available for neither service nor ransom, and that a speedy death was the most natural and efficacious method of disposing of a captive in whose maintenance there was no profit and whose days were already numbered. The weakest and most emaciated of these wretches were therefore killed at once without ceremony. The degenerate Moslems of the neighboring provinces, who served in the army of the Cid, felt no compunctions in profiting by the servitude of their countrymen, and few could withstand the temptation of securing a slave for a trifle. Traders from Constantinople, Damascus, and Alexandria were always present in the camps of the armies which were contending for the possession of the Peninsula, and to these such of the Valencian refugees whose resources had in a measure exempted them from the misery of their townsmen were sold, to be again exposed in the slave-markets of the East. The general suffering finally became so great that the fugitives, enfeebled by hunger, were not able to traverse the short distance between the city and the camp,—the boundaries of famine and servitude or death. The city was not so closely invested that communication was closed with the besiegers or with the adjoining principalities. Ibn-Djahhaf attempted, in vain, to secure relief by the most liberal promises to the Emir of Saragossa and the King of Castile. They distrusted his sincerity, and, above all, they feared the vengeance of the Cid, now the greatest potentate in Spain. His emissaries, aided by sympathizers among the inhabitants and the garrison, seemed to have entered the gates of Valencia at will. By the unsparing use of money and promises, they openly endeavored to advance the interests of their commander. Several conspiracies to overthrow Ibn-Djahhaf were detected and punished. Representations concerning the weakness and disaffection of the garrison induced the Cid to attempt to take the city by storm. The plan miscarried; the Christians were repulsed with great loss, and their leader himself narrowly escaped capture. Fearing the intervention of the Sultan of Africa, the Cid now had recourse to an expedient so infamous that it would hardly be countenanced by barbarians. He issued a proclamation that all the Valencians in his camp must return within the walls or be burned alive, and that the same fate was thereafter destined for every refugee without exception. Funeral pyres were raised in places within full view of the ramparts, whence the citizens could easily see the tortures and hear the shrieks of their relatives and countrymen. This cruel edict made no distinction of age or sex, and children and young girls, whose charms had been impaired or destroyed by privation and hunger, were ruthlessly cast into the flames along with the infirm and the aged. Eighteen of these victims underwent this dire penalty of misfortune at once, and not a day elapsed without the Valencians being called upon to witness the dreadful human sacrifice. This relentless policy, aided by the increasing destitution and misery of the inhabitants, soon accomplished its end. A truce for fifteen days was agreed upon, followed on June fifteenth, 1094, by a capitulation, whose terms, under the circumstances, were most favorable to the Moors. The authority, both civil and military, was, by its provisions, vested in the Moslem partisans of the Cid; the existing laws were to be preserved; the mosques were to remain in possession of the votaries of Islam, who were guaranteed the unmolested exercise of their worship; the property of the citizens was to remain inviolate; and the garrison was to consist of Christian residents of Valencia. For a time the conditions of the treaty were strictly observed and the fair promises of the conqueror fulfilled. But, as soon as he felt himself secure, the contract—which had been concluded with the sanction of the clergy and confirmed by the solemn ceremonies of religion—was repudiated, and the open infraction of its provisions became notorious. The Castilians occupied the citadel, where also the Cid took up his residence. The houses of the wealthy citizens were searched for concealed hoards of gold and jewels. Upon the most trifling pretext—the suspicion of magic or the escape of a slave—the privacy of the Valencian nobles was suddenly invaded by a band of ferocious men-at-arms. The estates, whose restoration to their owners had been promised in a public assemblage of the people, were suffered to remain in the hands of those whose rapacity or injustice had secured them. Finally, the people were assured that their city belonged to the Cid by the right of conquest, and that he and his subordinates would, for the future, preside in the tribunals of justice, impose taxes, collect tribute, and coin money. All who were not willing to accede to these conditions were at liberty to depart, without, however, taking with them a single article of their personal property. So many refused to trust themselves to the caprices of a ruler who had given such an exhibition of perfidy that two days elapsed before the long and melancholy procession had passed out of the city. Their places were supplied by Christian families collected from the neighboring states, who, applauding the valor and piety of the Cid, occupied, with unconcealed exultation, the elegant mansions and lovely gardens of the Moorish exiles.

The tranquillity of the city being now assured, the Cid turned his attention to Ibn-Djahhaf. He was horribly tortured to obtain a statement of his wealth, which a diligent exploration of his palaces and of those of his friends subsequently proved to be false. All the possessions of those who had ever in any way befriended the former master of Valencia were promptly confiscated. Then the Cid, who had planned for his illustrious prisoner the most agonizing of deaths, caused a pit to be dug in the principal square of the city and heaped about with fagots; and Ibn Djahhaf, buried in it to the shoulders, was slowly roasted to a crisp. The female members of his family, destined for the same fate, were saved, with great difficulty, by the entreaties of his Moorish subjects and the remonstrances of the Christian soldiery, who, although daily participants in scenes of diabolical cruelty, could not view unmoved the commission of such a crime. No such exemption could be obtained, however, for the slaves, the friends, and the literary associates of the unfortunate Kadi. They were all burned on great funeral pyres in sight of the citizens and the army. In the infamous record subsequently made by the Spaniards in the Old and the New World, among the awful atrocities perpetrated by Alva, Cortés, and Pizarro, none surpassed in cold-blooded brutality the conduct of the Cid at the siege and capture of Valencia.

His ambition, far from being satisfied with the acquisition of one of the richest provinces of the Peninsula, was only stimulated to greater exertions. He extended his dominions on every side. He took Murviedro, and, despoiling its inhabitants, sold them at auction, after having made and broken a treaty similar to the one negotiated at Valencia. His power was so great that kings did not disdain to treat with him on an equality; and Pedro I. of Aragon solicited his friendship in terms which indicated the fear with which he was regarded by his neighbors. At last his army was utterly routed by the Almoravide general Ibn-Ayesha, near Xativa, and heart-broken, the bold leader, who had been for so long the idol of the Christians and the terror of the infidel, was unable to survive the disaster. For two years his courageous widow, Ximena, succeeded in repulsing the Almoravides, but at last, compelled to abandon her position, Valencia was evacuated by the Castilian amazon and set on fire.

Such was the career and such the end of an adventurer whose influence and prestige often rose superior to those of royalty itself; who, by a perverted sentiment of enthusiasm, has passed into history as the exemplar of chivalry and the pattern of every martial excellence; who, though the sacrilegious despoiler of cathedrals and monasteries, is yet revered by the Church as one of her most devoted champions, whose brutality is applauded as zeal, whose perfidy is held up to public admiration as the highest development of worldly wisdom, and who to-day enjoys in the minds of his vainglorious countrymen a consideration not inferior to that accorded to the most venerated saint in the Roman Catholic calendar. Ecclesiastical fictions and popular ignorance prolonged the influence of the Cid far beyond the term of his natural life. The absurd legend which recounted the rout of Moorish armies at the sight of his corpse lashed to the saddle and borne at the head of crusading squadrons on many occasions, in subsequent times, inspired the Castilian chivalry with fresh devotion to their cause. The fables attributed to his charger Babieca and his sword Tizona—which, in imitation of Arabic custom, had each its history—were related with awe in every peasant’s hut on the plain and in the sierra. A sacred character attached to his remains. They worked innumerable miracles. They confounded the designs of unbelievers. Great virtue invested fragments of his coffin and of his garments. They were powerful talismans against danger in battle. They foiled the plots of conspirators. And yet there were few pious persons in the most superstitious age who did not possess far better claims to the attributes of a saint. The Cid was for the greater part of his life a rebel. He defied and oppressed his king. He served the Mohammedans, and, as their ally, invaded the Christian kingdom of France. Even in the poems intended to glorify his exploits he is represented as ridiculing the Pope. He burned churches and robbed the clergy. His perfidy became proverbial. He betrayed everybody. The barbarities he committed without compunction appalled even his own followers, long accustomed to the remorseless butchery of the helpless and the old. His cruelty was incredible. Of the virtues of patriotism, mercy, forgiveness, he knew nothing. Even his orthodoxy was justly liable to criticism. He was more indulgent to the infidel than, in the eyes of the zealots, became a true believer. He maintained a harem. Moslems formed a large proportion of his command. It was even suspected that he was not buried with the rites of the Church. In 1541, when his tomb was opened, his body was found wrapped in a Moorish mantle embroidered with arabesques and Arabic inscriptions. Nevertheless, the universal reverence in which he was held by the Spanish people, clergy and laity alike, induced Philip II., the most austere of royal bigots, to demand his canonization at the hands of the Pope, a ceremony which was only prevented by political complications necessitating the sudden recall of the Spanish ambassador from Rome.

The occupation of Valencia was the last achievement in the life of Yusuf. With the exception of the city of Toledo, and the principality of Saragossa soon to succumb to the arms of his son, the entire realm of Moorish Spain was subject to his authority. This great conquest had been accomplished in less than three years. His empire was equal in magnitude to those of the Ommeyades and Abbasides combined. The entire region of Northern Africa, from Tunis to the Atlantic, obeyed his edicts. His dominions embraced an area more than ten times that of the Western Khalifate during the era of its greatest prosperity. Even the early princes of Islam, upon whom had descended the mantle of the Prophet, had not claimed such a vast jurisdiction or wielded such despotic authority. Every Friday his name was repeated, for the homage and the prayers of the devout, from the pulpits of three hundred thousand mosques. The provinces of Al-Maghreb, as well as those of Spain, had been seriously affected by wars and revolutions; their cities had been repeatedly plundered; their agricultural population had been greatly reduced by enslavement and starvation. Yet such was the wealth of the empire of Yusuf that, notwithstanding the expenditures of a magnificent court and an imperfectly regulated system of taxation, he was enabled to leave to his successor a treasure of seven and a half million pounds’ weight of silver and a hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds’ weight of gold. No less than thirteen princes, who had inherited or usurped the titles of sovereignty, acknowledged him as their lord. Under none of the khalifs of any dynasty had the burdens of the people seemed so light. The necessaries of life were cheaper than they had been within the memory of man. Bread was sold at a nominal price, and for a trifle an armful of the choicest vegetables and fruits could be purchased. The large majority of his subjects paid no taxes. The ordinary expenses of the government were defrayed by the tribute of Christians and Jews; the extraordinary demands were readily met by the spoils of war. Universal demoralization had, however, rendered a lasting reform impracticable among the antagonistic states of the Peninsula accustomed for generations to the prevalence of military excesses and anarchy. The hopes of public happiness and of future security, which at times were entertained by the people, were in the highest degree illusory. Theological influence, fatal to every government, soon overturned the gigantic but unstable fabric of Yusuf. With him and his successors the power of the faquis was paramount. They dictated every measure, disposed of every office, shared in every contribution. Their rapacity and tyranny increased with their opportunities. Even without foreign interference, the African monarchy must within a few years have fallen to pieces. The deterioration of the Berber soldiery was so rapid and complete after its exposure to the temptations and luxury of Andalusia that Ali was compelled to enlist, for his own security, recruits from the infidel populations of Europe. Even the Greeks of Constantinople, the most superstitious of Christians, the most perfidious of men, were to be found in the armies of the natural enemy of the Church and the reformer of the Mohammedan religion. The government officials were selected by the women of the harem, who sold lucrative employments to the highest bidder or shared the profits of extortion, while the monarch prayed and fasted or listened to the exhortations of the clergy. The Almoravide empire fell with the same rapidity that was so conspicuous in its foundation. Not many years were to elapse before its African domain was to be usurped by a race of savage fanatics, and the kingdoms of Spain, with one exception, be permanently subjected to the sceptre of the dreaded and execrated Christian.

The years of Yusuf, prolonged far beyond the ordinary term of human existence, included a full century, three ordinary generations of man. His active life, his abstemious habits, his freedom from those vices which waste the body and enfeeble the mind, enabled him to retain to the last the enjoyment of all his faculties. Although pitiless in the treatment of his enemies, it is related of him that during his entire reign, through motives of mistaken humanity, he never signed the death-sentence of a single criminal. Small indulgence was shown to the two tributary sects which, under the law of Islam, were permitted the exercise of their worship. From both, the contributions established by the successors of Mohammed were rigorously exacted. The Christians were prohibited from making proselytes. All their churches of recent erection were destroyed. A tradition of obscure origin, long current in the Peninsula, was made the excuse for a new and ingenious tax upon the Jews. It was said that the Hebrews had promised Mohammed that if the Messiah did not come before the year 500 of the Hegira their nation would become Mussulman. The time had not yet expired, but Yusuf imposed upon the Jews of his dominions the payment of an immense sum, by which they and their descendants were released from an act of apostasy which they had never contemplated, based upon a tradition probably invented by some idle and mendacious theologian.

The phenomenal rise of the Almoravide empire, its marvellous opulence and apparent stability, the suddenness of its collapse, demonstrate the imperfect cohesion of the ill-balanced and misdirected elements of Moslem society. The Arab and the Berber character, never voluntarily amenable to the salutary restrictions of law and civilization, were now wedded to that civil disorder and habitual freedom from control whose indulgence offered a not imperfect resemblance to the conditions of the predatory and independent life of the Desert. The career of Yusuf was largely modelled after that of Mohammed. The reforms he instituted were productive of temporary peace and of a delusive prosperity, but the Spanish Moslems had become too degraded to appreciate the blessings of tranquillity and order; and their princes, while fully alive to the impending peril of Christian supremacy, unwisely permitted their private feuds and personal prejudices to contribute directly to the subversion of both their authority and their religion.

The sceptre of Yusuf descended to his son Ali, a young man of twenty-three years, whose martial aspirations were constantly subordinated to his religious duties and to his predilection for the society of the clergy. The seat of government, as in the preceding reign, remained at Morocco. The capitals of the various Spanish states and provinces were held either by devoted vassals of the crown or by military governors of established reputation and unquestionable loyalty. Ali was scarcely seated upon the throne before the citizens of Saragossa, weary of the tyranny of the Beni-Hud, solicited his protection; and that city, the key of the valley of the Ebro and the last of the great capitals of Moorish Spain to surrender its independence, was incorporated, without bloodshed, into the colossal Almoravide empire.

The possession of the territory once occupied by the khalifate did not satisfy the restless spirit of Ali, whose policy aspired to so vast and impracticable a scheme as the total annihilation of the Christian power. His ambition was seconded, and indeed largely prompted, by his zeal, which impelled him to the prosecution of incessant hostilities against the enemies of Islam. The occupation of Saragossa by Temim, the son of Yusuf and the governor of Valencia, was followed by an invasion of the dominions of Alfonso VI. and the siege of Ucles. A Castilian army sent to relieve that fortress encountered the Moslems a short distance from its walls. A bloody battle was fought; and the Christians, who far outnumbered their adversaries, underwent a crushing defeat. Sancho, the favorite son of the King by his Moorish wife or concubine, Zayda,—who was the daughter of Motamid, formerly Prince of Seville,—was killed in the action, and the grief of Alfonso was so intense that he only survived his bereavement a few months. To his genius as a soldier and a ruler has been justly attributed a large share of the greatness of the Castilian monarchy. He traversed the territory of his Moslem enemies from one extremity of the Peninsula to the other. In the course of his long and eventful reign he won thirty-nine battles. Great in all the popular qualities of the time, his deeds made a deep and lasting impression on the national character of Spain.

The dissensions which followed the death of their sovereign seriously threatened the integrity of the kingdom. The activity of Temim carried dismay along the entire Christian frontier. Ocaña, Aurelia, Cuenca were again subjected to Moslem authority. The policy of Al-Mansur, which for a quarter of a century, without intermission, had maintained the Holy War, was renewed. Ali reinforced his brother with an army of a hundred thousand Africans, which, after desolating a large part of Castile, formed the siege of Toledo. Unable to make any impression upon that fortress, the invaders stormed and burned Talavera, Guadalajara, Madrid, and many other less important cities. Ibn-Abi-Bekr invaded Portugal and took Santarem and Lisbon. The remoteness of his capital, the restless and impulsive character of his subjects, the danger of sudden revolution, soon necessitated the return of Ali, whose enterprise could not be dignified by the name of a campaign, and was, in fact, nothing more than a gigantic foray. The number of Christian captives who followed in the train of his army exceeded any that had passed the strait since the invasion of Musa. Year after year the lieutenants of the Sultan carried their ravages into the enemy’s country. No quarter was given or expected in these expeditions. All prisoners not available as slaves were inhumanly butchered, and the women and children exhibited for sale in the markets of Al-Maghrab, Egypt, and Syria.

The loss of Alfonso VI. of Castile was compensated by the rise of another Alfonso, King of Aragon, surnamed from his fighting proclivities El Batallador. Under the guidance of his genius, the Christians began again to successfully arrest the progress of Moslem conquest. The line of fortresses along the frontier gradually fell into their hands. The great cities of Lerida and Saragossa were taken. In many fiercely contested engagements, the furious assaults of the Moslems were repulsed by the cool and determined courage of their adversaries. On the bloody field of Cutanda, in an effectual attempt to save the city of Calatayud, the Emir of Valencia left twenty thousand of his bravest soldiers. The tide once turned, the misfortunes of the Moslems followed each other in quick succession. The strongholds of the North were absorbed by the increasing power of the kingdom of Aragon. Portugal and much of the valley of the Douro, which had submitted to Yusuf, were again incorporated into the states of Castile. The decadent condition of his empire in the Peninsula provoked another raid from Ali, at the head of a great African army, with even less decisive results than had attended the former one. The incapacity of the sovereign, in his far-distant capital, to protect his subjects from the oppression of their governors, as well as to defend his frontiers from the encroachments of the enemy, became daily more apparent. The influence of the theologians, as might have been anticipated from the peculiar disposition of Ali, was paramount. The faquis and kadis were the true source of power, the dispensers of favor, the pitiless instruments of oppression and vengeance. They stood at the ear of every provincial magistrate and military commander,—officials whose ignorance exaggerated the knowledge of their unprincipled advisers,—and reaped the profits of spoliation and cruelty, while their dupes bore the odium of their flagrant and shameless injustice. Their intolerance arrayed them against all learning, even to the point of decrying the most accomplished scholars of their own, the Malikite, sect. No philosopher dared to openly entertain an heretical opinion. Poets, formerly accustomed to affluence, wandered about clothed in rags, and were constantly on the verge of starvation. The clerical and judicial harpies who controlled the administration secured the employment of Jews as farmers of the revenue, and divided with these inexorable collectors the fruits of their rapacity and extortion. In consequence of their rare opportunities, they soon became the richest class in Andalusia. Ibn-Hamden, the Kadi of Cordova, surpassed all of his brethren in wealth, his fortune being estimated at several million pieces of gold. Encouraged by their example and success, the Berber officers and soldiers robbed and persecuted the people, already driven to despair by the exactions of corrupt functionaries acting under the perverted authority of the law. They seized their property. They intruded upon their privacy in the unrestrained indulgence of lust and rapine. The wives and daughters of the most respected citizens could not appear in the streets without danger of insult and violation. In consequence of these abuses, the army became thoroughly demoralized, the soldiers refused to face an enemy, and it became necessary to enlist bands of mercenaries, gathered at random among the ports of the Mediterranean, to garrison the principal cities. No attention was paid to the remonstrances of the indignant and suffering victims. At length the revolutionary spirit of Cordova again asserted itself. The inhabitants rose, the Berbers were hemmed in and massacred, and not one of the obnoxious race who dared to face the fury of the mob survived. The appearance of Ali failed to awe the rebels, but the commencement of a siege soon brought them to terms. Aware of the provocations they had endured, the Sultan treated his seditious subjects with unusual leniency, requiring only the pecuniary reimbursement of such of their victims as had escaped with their lives and a liberal indemnity to the families of the dead. It was while at Cordova that Ali received the first intelligence of an insurrection in Africa, whose popularity and progress were of evil augury for the permanence of the already tottering Almoravide power.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE EMPIRE OF THE ALMOHADES
1121–1212

Rise of Abu-Abdallah, the Mahdi—His Character and Talents—He rebels against Ali—His Eventful Career—Abd-al-Mumen succeeds Him—Decline of the Almoravide Power in Spain—Raid of Alfonso of Aragon—Rout of Fraga—Death of Alfonso—Indecisive Character of the Campaigns in the War of the Reconquest—Progress of Abd-al-Mumen in Africa—Victories of the Almohades—Natural Hostility of Moor and Berber—Anarchy in the Peninsula—It is invaded by the Africans—Establishment of the Almohade Empire in Andalusia—Almeria taken by the Christians—Its Recapture by the Berbers—Death of Abd-al-Mumen—His Genius and Greatness—Accession of Yusuf—His Public Works—He organizes a Great Expedition—He dies and is succeeded by Yakub—The Holy War proclaimed—Battle of Alarcos—Effects of African Supremacy—Death of Yakub—The Giralda—Mohammed—He attempts the Subjugation of the Christians—Despair of the Latter—Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa—Utter Rout of the Almohade Army.

The proverbial instability of the tribes of Northern Africa, habitually dominated by the most abject superstition, the prey of successive generations of religious impostors, incapable of systematized civil organization, of moral consistency, of personal loyalty, was now to be again demonstrated by a revolution that, in the principal circumstances of its origin and progress, was almost the counterpart of the one preceding it, which had made the polished and intellectual population of Spain—justly proud of the traditions of the khalifate—tributary subjects of a foreign and barbaric potentate. As with every race brought suddenly in contact with the highest civilization without passing through the intermediate phases incident to the regular and predestined development of nations, the corruption and degeneracy of the Berbers advanced with amazing rapidity. Amidst the hitherto unknown allurements of luxury and vice, the primitive virtues of generosity, courage, and hospitality disappeared. The fetichism of the Desert was replaced by a spurious and absurd Mohammedan belief, which retained, as essential parts of its doctrine, the most objectionable and offensive principles of Paganism. The religious teachers of the people, more deeply contaminated than their disciples and closely allied with the Jews, whose worship and whose dogmas they held up to reprobation in public and connived at in secret, had become monsters of extortion, profligacy, and injustice. The martial tastes of Yusuf had not descended to his son, who daily exhibited, to the delight of the clergy and the astonishment of the people, the abasement of a devotee, an example sufficiently edifying in a saint but strangely unbecoming in a sovereign whose throne was sustained by arms, and whose subjects were accustomed to subsist by conquest and rapine. No faqui desirous of obtaining a reputation for piety prayed and fasted with more persistent regularity than Ali. The greater part of his time was passed in the mosque, and the administration, meanwhile, was usurped by the clergy and the ladies of the court. The direct intervention of women in public affairs was a practice heretofore unknown to the Moslem constitution. During the reign of Ali, however, the wives and concubines of great officials virtually controlled, by favor and purchase, the policy of the government, trafficked in appointments of the civil and military service, capriciously deposed high dignitaries, and pardoned brigands and other malefactors condemned for atrocious crimes. The contradictory mandates, and the uncertain execution of the laws resulting from the conflicting interests and the indecision of ambitious and corrupt females, produced inextricable confusion, and provoked the scorn and resentment of the people. In Spain, far removed from the capital of the empire, the prevalent disorder and oppression reached its culmination; and even constant familiarity with military abuses could not reconcile the citizens of the Andalusian capitals to the intolerable insolence of the Almoravide soldiery.

About this time there appeared in the African dominions of Ali a new reformer, half enthusiast, half charlatan, whose austerities and denunciations of the prevalent luxury and impiety of the age at once attracted the attention and inspired the reverence of the masses. His name was Abu-Abdallah; his origin—designated by an appellation referring to the calling of his father, a lamplighter in the mosque of his native village—was most humble; but nature had endowed him with talents which early marked him as a leader of men. His education, acquired in the famous schools of Cordova, Bagdad, and Cairo, was far superior to his rank, and, by assiduous study and extensive travel in foreign countries, he had amassed a vast fund of knowledge, and had obtained, even in the centres of Moslem learning, the reputation of an accomplished controversialist and theologian. A pupil of the great Al-Ghazzali, he had embraced with eagerness the doctrines of that renowned philosopher, whose work, branded as heterodox and impious by the clergy of Cordova, had been publicly consigned to the flames, and its possession made a cause of relentless persecution by the bigoted religious counsellors of Ali. The subsequent conduct of the reformer might suggest to an observant and unfriendly critic that this unfavorable reception of the dogmas of one of the most famous teachers of Islam had not a little influence in forming the opinions and determining the career of the ambitious young Berber student. His education completed, Abu-Abdallah returned to his home among the tribesmen of Masmoudah in the country of Sus. His travels and his studies, directed by a keen and vigorous intellect, had given him a profound insight into human nature, while the superiority of his literary attainments obtained for him the greatest respect from the simple and ignorant shepherds among whom his lot was cast. From the day of his return, he affected an air of mystery well calculated to impose upon a credulous and highly imaginative people. He assumed the title of Al-Mahdi, or The Leader, a word synonymous with Messiah, a personage whose advent has been predicted by the founders of almost every sect of Oriental origin. He declaimed with audacity and eloquence against the sins of the degenerate Moslems. In common with all reformers whose success demands a real or apparent exhibition of sanctity, his life afforded an edifying example of self-denial and of the practice of the most austere virtue. His garments were scanty and of the coarsest materials. His sole possessions consisted of a staff and a leathern bottle. Subsisting upon alms, and sleeping in the court-yards of the mosques, where, during the day, with impassioned oratory, he exhorted the wayward to repentance, he did not remain long in solitude. Crowds gathered to participate in his devotions and to enjoy the benefit of his prayers. The erratic genius of the Berber, impressed with an exhibition so congenial with its nature and actuated by the love of novelty, soon recognized in the holy man a guide whose inspiration was directly derived from heaven. Among the first of his disciples was a youth of distinguished lineage and unusual personal attractions, named Abd-al-Mumen, whom the Mahdi, as he was now universally called, selected as his councillor, and whose talents for war and executive ability, as soon became evident, were superior to those of any individual of his time. Accompanied by a small band of followers, the Mahdi advanced by easy stages to Morocco, the depravity of whose citizens he constantly represented as worthy of the severest punishment that could be inflicted by the wrath of an outraged Deity. It was not without reason that he denounced the vices of the great Almoravide capital. Although so recently founded, it already ranked with the most opulent, the most splendid, the most dissolute of the cities of the Mohammedan world. Its population had been gathered from three continents; its commerce extended from the frozen zone to countries far south of the equator; its profligate diversions equalled in their shamelessness and monstrous variety the proverbial abominations of ancient Carthage.

The first public act of the Mahdi after his arrival was one whose unparalleled audacity was admirably calculated to establish the sacredness of his pretended mission as far as the most distant frontiers of the empire. On one of the Fridays of the festival of Ramadhan, a great concourse had assembled in the principal mosque of the capital to await the coming of the Sultan. Before the royal cortége appeared, an emaciated figure, meanly clad and intoning in deep and solemn accents verses from the Koran, strode through the assemblage and seated itself, without ceremony, on the throne. The remonstrances of the attendants of the mosque produced no effect on the intruder, and even at the approach of Ali himself he retained his seat, while the entire congregation rose and stood reverently in the presence of their monarch. In the minds of devout Moslems, mental eccentricity and insanity are not infrequently considered evidences of divine inspiration; the most outrageous denunciations are received with humility by the greatest potentates; and, encouraged by impunity, the dervish and the santon, sure of the toleration of the sovereign and the applause of the multitude, do not hesitate to violate every feeling of decency and reverence in the prosecution of their schemes of imposture. The existence of this superstitious prejudice prevented the molestation of the Mahdi, whose reputation had preceded him, but whose person was as yet unknown to the inhabitants of Morocco. Not content with usurping his place, the audacious reformer even ventured, in scathing terms, to reprove the Sultan in the presence of the assembly, and warned him that if he did not correct the faults of his government and the vices of his subjects he would be speedily called upon to render an account of his neglect to God. The amazement and consternation of the Prince were only exceeded by the apprehensions of the people, who awaited, with equal anxiety, the accomplishment of a miracle or the outbreak of a revolution.

From that day the religious authority of the Mahdi was established throughout the African dominions of Ali. His audiences were numbered by thousands. Proselytes in vast multitudes assented to his doctrines, and his movements began to seriously occupy the attention of the government, whose officials saw with unconcealed dread his fast-increasing popularity and the effect which his harangues and his ostentatious asceticism were producing upon the capricious and easily deluded masses. He was examined by the ministers, some of whom advised his immediate execution, but, as he had hitherto confined himself to religious exhortations and had asserted no pretensions to the exercise of temporal sovereignty, the impolitic clemency of Ali, unmindful of the similar circumstances which had attended the elevation of his own family to power, dismissed, unharmed, the most dangerous enemy of his life and his throne. The lesson he had just been taught was not lost on the wary impostor, who, of all distinctions, coveted least the honors of martyrdom. He left the capital and repaired to Fez, where for a considerable period he kept himself in seclusion, but, through his devoted emissaries, still retaining and indeed increasing his influence over the ignorant populace, deeply impressed with the mystery that surrounded his movements as well as with the oracular messages with which he nourished the curiosity and stimulated the expectations of his followers. At length, without warning, he reappeared in the streets of Morocco. The enthusiastic welcome he received made it apparent that his popularity had been in no respect diminished during his absence. His insolence and his extravagance now became more offensive than ever. He denounced, in epithets conveying the greatest opprobrium, the public and private conduct of the monarch and his court. Assisted by his disciples, he seized the wine vessels in the bazaars and emptied their contents into the streets. The sight of a musical instrument roused him to fury and was the signal for its instant destruction, as well as for the maltreatment of the owner. His piety could not tolerate even the songs of mirth, and those who presumed to enjoy this harmless amusement in his hearing were speedily silenced with a shower of blows. The climax of impudence and outrage was attained when the Mahdi, having one day encountered in one of the public thoroughfares of the capital the sister of Ali, who, in compliance with the prevalent custom of the Moorish ladies of Africa and Spain, had discarded the veil, roundly abused her for this violation of the injunctions of the Prophet, and ended by precipitating her from her saddle into the gutter, to the horror and consternation of her numerous retinue. An offence of this flagrant character committed by any one unprotected by the influence of the grossest superstition would, under Oriental law, have been instantly punishable with death. But the reverence entertained for the sacred profession of the culprit, the general suspicion of his want of responsibility, and a fatal indifference to his rapidly increasing power suggested the imposition of an insignificant penalty, and the bold and reckless innovator was banished from the city. In obedience to the letter, if not to the spirit of his sentence, he betook himself to a neighboring cemetery, erected there a miserable hovel, and, surrounded by the significant memorials of the dead, began anew his prophesies of impending evil and his declamations against the vice and corruption of the dignitaries of the empire. The leniency with which his offences had been treated by the authorities was distorted by fear and fanaticism into persecution and injustice, and the violator of law was at once exalted into a martyr. The passions of the ignorant were then artfully aroused by representations that the life of their leader was threatened, and a bodyguard of fifteen hundred well-armed soldiers was organized to watch constantly over the safety of the self-styled Messenger of God. The Sultan now began to realize, when too late, the effects of his ill-timed indulgence. He sent a peremptory order for the Mahdi to leave the vicinity of the capital. The latter, alleging that he had already complied with the directions of his sovereign as indicated by the sentence of banishment, and feeling secure in the midst of his devoted adherents, at first declined to abandon his position; but, on learning that measures were already taken for his assassination, he fled in haste to the distant town of Tinamal, where he had disclosed his pretended mission. There, in the mosque, he first openly announced his claim to temporal power. A sympathetic audience was excited to frenzy by his mysterious predictions and his fervid eloquence; his claim to universal dominion as the Champion of the Faith and the restorer of the purity of Islam was received with vociferous applause by the multitude, and in the midst of the turmoil Abd-al-Mumen and ten of his companions, rising and drawing their swords, swore eternal fealty to their leader. Their example was followed by the entire congregation; and thus, a second time, in the centre of the Sahara was inaugurated a Mohammedan reformation the precursor of a gigantic but unsubstantial and impermanent empire. This decisive step had no sooner been taken than the Mahdi proceeded to organize his government by the appointment of civil and military officials. Abd-al-Mumen was made vizier; the ten proselytes who had sworn allegiance in the mosque were united in a Supreme Council; and the two subordinate bodies, composed respectively of fifty and seventy disciples, were charged with the management of affairs of inferior moment; the result of their deliberations being subject to the approval or rejection of the Mahdi himself. The revolutionists, whose numbers, daily recruited by accessions from the martial tribes of the Desert, had now become formidable, assumed the name of Almohades, or Unitarians, not only to distinguish them from the Christians, whose trinitarian dogma and adoration of images caused them to be designated by all Moslems as idolaters, but to indicate as well a return to the original simplicity of Islam, long corrupted by the heterodox practices and dissolute manners of their Almoravide rivals. A strange and mysterious fatality seemed to attach to the fortunes of the latter in every field where they encountered the armies of the newly arisen Prophet. In four successive engagements the soldiers of Ali, seized with a panic in the presence of the enemy, yielded almost without resistance to the attack of the Berber cavalry; their standards and baggage were taken, and thousands of fugitives, butchered in headlong flight, expiated with the loss of life and honor their effeminacy and their cowardice.

The opinion generally prevalent in the minds of the illiterate, that military success is an infallible criterion of religious truth, began to produce its effect on the Almoravides. The terror experienced by them at the sight of the enemy—really due to relaxation of discipline and apprehension of the miraculous powers of an audacious charlatan—was universally attributed to supernatural influence. The mission of the Mahdi required no further demonstration of its divine origin. Henceforth his utterances were received by both friend and enemy as the oracles of God. His credit daily increased among the credulous and passionate inhabitants of the Desert. The Almoravide soldiers shrank from an encounter with a foe whose white standard seemed to be invested with the mystic qualities of a talisman. The Mahdi, renouncing in a measure his character of affected humility, now assumed the pomp of a sovereign. He surrounded himself with a splendidly appointed bodyguard. His throne was approached by suppliants for favor with the debasing and complicated ceremonial of Oriental despotism. He demanded, in arrogant and menacing language, submission and tribute from Ali, who, dejected by repeated misfortune, began to share with his ignorant subjects the awe which enveloped the person and the attributes of his triumphant and formidable adversary. The plans of the latter had heretofore been accomplished without an established base of operations, the camps of the Almohades being moved from place to place over the drifting sands of the Desert; but now, the direction of an army of twenty thousand men, the subsistence and shelter of a vast multitude of non-combatants, and the dignity and power of a new and growing political organization urgently demanded a settled habitation and a recognized centre of authority. Among the lofty crags of a mountain spur extending from the range of Tlemcen to the Atlantic stood the village of Tinamal. Its retired situation, its natural defences, its proximity to both the rich cities of the coast and the fertile regions of the interior, the character of its people, who were to a man ardent believers in the mission of the Mahdi, made it an admirable point either for the inauguration of a conquest or the institution of an harassing system of predatory warfare. It was approached by narrow and tortuous paths which, winding along the mountain side, disclosed, on the one hand, an inaccessible cliff, on the other, an abyss whose depths were shrouded in perpetual gloom. From its battlements, almost hidden in the clouds, the progress of a hostile party could be watched for miles as, with slow and uncertain steps, it pursued its hazardous way. In this mountain fastness the Mahdi fixed his residence and established his capital. The natural impediments in the path of an invader were greatly multiplied by the artificial resources of engineering skill. Towers and fortresses were raised at points commanding the various approaches to the mountain stronghold. Drawbridges were thrown across roaring torrents. Walls and gateways obstructed the passage, where an insignificant force might with ease check the progress of a numerous army. The village of Tinamal soon became a city, whose inhabitants, subsisting by the plunder of their neighbors, became the scourge and the terror of the peaceable and defenceless subjects of Ali. After a long sojourn in his seat of power, the Mahdi, about to succumb to a fatal disease, determined to signalize his closing days by an enterprise worthy of the pretensions he had assumed and of the success which had hitherto favored his undertakings. An army of forty thousand men was assembled for the capture of Morocco. In a desperate conflict under the walls of that city, the Almoravides, who outnumbered their opponents two to one, were put to flight and pursued with terrible carnage to its gates. But the fortunes of the Almohades, heretofore invincible, were now destined to receive a serious blow. Unaccustomed to the conduct of a siege, the soldiers of Abd-al-Mumen habitually neglected the precautions which, in the presence of an enemy, are indispensable to the security of a camp. Within the immense circuit of the capital were marshalled for a final struggle the collected resources of the empire. Thousands of fugitives from the recent disastrous battle had found an asylum behind its walls. Reinforcements had been drawn from every African province as well as from the diminished Andalusian armies, their own strength already sorely taxed by repeated incursions of the Christian foe. The constructing and handling of military engines were confided to a body of Byzantine and Sicilian engineers enlisted for that purpose. The soldiery was animated by the presence and the example of the Sultan, who had for the time abandoned the Koran for the sword, and stood ready to perform the part of a valiant and resolute commander. The citizens, moved to desperation by the approach of an enemy whose relentless character had been established by the massacre of fugitives and prisoners, and from whose ferocity, aggravated by prolonged opposition, they could expect no indulgence, co-operated manfully with the garrison in the defence of their homes, their families, their property, and their king. The first sallies of the Almoravides, conducted by leaders trained to partisan encounters in the wars of Spain, were signally disastrous to the besiegers. The latter, suddenly checked in an uninterrupted career of victory, were disconcerted and dismayed, and their confidence was shaken in proportion as the spirits of their adversaries rose. Encouraged by success, the attacks of the latter became more vigorous and determined; a general engagement followed, the Almohades were routed with terrific slaughter, and it was only by the exertion of strenuous effort that Abd-al-Mumen and a handful of survivors were enabled to escape the lances of the Almoravide cavalry. The depression caused by a single disaster was more potent in its effect on the minds of the disciples of the Mahdi than the prestige derived from a score of victories. The influence which had exercised its mysterious sway over the imagination of all who had presumed to dispute the claims of the impostor was perceptibly impaired. The fickle tribesmen deserted his standard by thousands. But in the course of a few years his eloquence and tact were able to repair the losses he had sustained; another army commanded by Abd-al-Mumen issued from the mountains, and a brilliant victory obtained over the followers of Ali retrieved the honor and credit of the Almohade cause. The Mahdi did not long survive his triumph. Overcome with the excitement occasioned by the return of his soldiers with their array of spoil and captives, he died, after having committed to the faithful Abd-al-Mumen the accomplishment of the task of conquest and reformation which he had so successfully begun.

Of all the prophets and reformers, the progenitors of dynasties, the conquerors of kingdoms, the restorers of the Faith, which from its origin have appeared in the domain of Islam, none possess a greater claim to distinction than Abu-Abdallah, surnamed the Mahdi, the founder of the sect of the Almohades. Without the commanding genius and originality of Mohammed, he equalled that remarkable personage in keenness of perception and energy of character, and far surpassed him in education, in eloquence, in practical acquaintance with the foibles and the prejudices of humanity. The suggestive examples of his predecessors, who had attained to supreme power through pretensions to inspiration and martial achievements, incited him to establish for himself a political and religious empire. With more of the charlatan and less of the soldier in his mental composition than had characterized many reformers, he retained to the last his retiring asceticism, but in case of emergency he did not hesitate to boldly risk his life on the field of battle. No scholar was better versed than he in the literature and science of his age. His sagacity was proof against the insinuating arts of the most accomplished negotiator. In the prosecution of his ambitious projects he never considered the comfort or the safety of his followers; in the exaction of his vengeance every sentiment of pity and indulgence was ruthlessly cast aside. His influence over his disciples was maintained by appeals to superstition and by arts of imposture congenial with the temperament of the ignorant and the credulous. To conceal these frauds, the wretched instruments by whom they had been effected were promptly put to death. Such persons as were so unfortunate as to incur the enmity of the false Prophet were buried alive. Such was the extent of his power over the masses, that the crimes perpetrated by his orders or with his sanction were regarded in the light of virtues; that his spurious claims to divinity were accepted by entire nations who revered him even more than his great prototype Mohammed, and who demonstrated their enduring faith in his mission by raising his friend and successor, to whom his authority had descended, to an equality with the greatest potentates of the age.

While the victories of the Almohades in Africa were undermining the already crumbling empire of Ali, his Spanish dominions were overrun and wasted by Aragonese and Castilian armies. The supremacy of the clergy which followed the rise of the Almoravide dynasty was the signal for Christian persecution. In Andalusia, and especially throughout the principality of Granada, where the Mozarabes abounded, the Moslem theologians exercised with unrestricted severity the congenial privilege of oppression. Churches and monasteries were confiscated or destroyed under pretext of their construction since the Conquest, acts of encroachment which, although in contravention of the stipulations of Musa, had been tacitly ignored for centuries. Taxes far in excess of those prescribed by Mussulman law were imposed on the Christian tributaries. Under the most frivolous accusations their property was seized. Every indignity which popular envy or religious hatred could contrive was inflicted upon them. Their endurance exhausted, the Mozarabes of Granada, who, through the medium of Jewish merchants, had long held secret communication with their Castilian brethren, an intercourse which had suggested and promoted many a predatory expedition, now began to meditate permanent freedom from conditions scarcely less intolerable than those of servitude. The serious difficulties in which the Almoravide empire was involved; the contemptuous indifference of its ruler to the complaints of his subjects; the succession of Almohade victories; the withdrawal to Africa of the flower of the Andalusian troops for the defence of Morocco; the advance of the Castilian outposts, in the face of whose encroachments the frontier was continually receding; the reconquest of Saragossa, the last important Moslem bulwark in the North, all encouraged the hope that the Christian domination and the Christian faith might now be easily re-established from the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean. Excited by ill-timed dreams of liberty, the Mozarabes brought to bear every resource of solicitation and argument to tempt an invasion by the Christian princes. They despatched secret envoys to the court of Castile. They sent to Alfonso I., King of Aragon, topographical descriptions of the country, enumerations of its armies, information of the locations of its magazines and of the relative position and respective strength of its fortresses, its castles, and its arsenals. They promised their services as guides and pioneers. They pledged the support of the Christian tributaries of Granada, who, through the favor they had enjoyed under Hebrew ministers, exceeded in numbers and wealth those of any other province of the empire. To assurances of success, the Mozarabes enlarged upon the attractions which characterized the most fertile and beautiful valley in Andalusia. It was not strange that the cupidity of the Aragonese cavaliers should have been excited by such a picture, or their sovereign tempted by a prospect so flattering to his ambition. An expedition was hastily organized, and at the head of twelve thousand cavalry Alfonso entered the country of the enemy. But the enterprise which promised such magnificent results terminated in inaction, which was even more discreditable than defeat. The Mozarabes, faithful to their engagements, joined the invader in multitudes. They conducted his forces by unfrequented paths through the perilous defiles of the mountains. They furnished their allies with money, provisions, horses, and beasts of burden. Forty thousand volunteers swelled the ranks of the Aragonese army. But for some inexplicable reason this great force accomplished nothing. The King, whose resolution seemed to have failed him before the bold provincials of Granada, retired discomfited from the walls of Valencia, Xucar, Denia. The citizens of Baeza, whose city was unprovided with defences, repulsed with severe loss the formidable chivalry of the North, fighting under the eye of a sovereign accustomed from boyhood to the perils and the stratagems of war. The time lost by the Christians, who seemed incapable of appreciating the advantages of surprise and attack, was diligently improved by their adversaries. Temim, the brother of the Sultan and the governor of Granada, collected reinforcements from every district of the Peninsula held by the Almoravides. The troops which had been sent to Africa were recalled. The fortifications of the capital, which at that time were far from possessing the finished and impregnable character subsequently imparted to them by the military genius and profuse expenditures of the Alhamares, were improved and perfected as far as time and circumstances would permit. The Mozarabes were placed under rigorous espionage. The most obnoxious were imprisoned. Others were expelled from the city. A large force was encamped on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada, but the proximity of the Christians, whose outposts could be distinctly seen from the battlements of the citadel, and the presence of thousands of secret and implacable enemies, raised the most gloomy apprehensions in the minds of the Moslems. In hourly expectation of an assault, crowds assembled in the mosques, where the imams offered the supplications prescribed by the Koran for seasons of extremity. Although the numbers of the Christian army reached fifty thousand, the great majority of which was composed of Mozarabe rebels, not ignorant of warfare and nerved to despair by the remembrance of recent persecution and the hopelessness of future immunity, it remained idly in its intrenchments. Familiarity with the enemy gradually removed from the minds of the Moors the fears which had been excited by overwhelming odds. The flying Arab cavalry swept the plain of subsistence and forage. Small parties of Christians were cut off. The rainy season arrived; the streams overflowed; the dry ravines became impassable torrents, and disease and want began to invade the hostile camp. Then Alfonso determined to retreat. One way alone was open, for the mountains which separated him from his kingdom were already white with snow, and the active Moslems, anticipating a favorable turn of affairs, had long since occupied the passes in his rear. Abandoning his allies, who had sacrificed honor, allegiance, and liberty in obedience to his summons, the King of Aragon marched southward. Threading the perilous defiles of the Alpujarras, the Christians emerged at length upon the tropical coast of Velez-Malaga. The cavaliers of the inhospitable North were enchanted with the delightful prospect presented by the plantations of cotton and sugar, the groves of oranges and palms, and the profusion of odoriferous shrubs and flowers whose blossoms filled the air with their fragrance. But the pleasures of this paradise could not be long enjoyed by the invaders. Behind them the entire country was in arms. All the forces available for that purpose had been collected throughout the Moslem dominions to intercept their retreat. It was certain death for a straggler to venture beyond the limits of the camp. Provisions could be obtained with the greatest difficulty, owing to the fears of the Mozarabes and the vigilance of the enemy. To add to the embarrassment of the King, his following had been increased by the undesirable presence of a great number of non-combatants, who consumed the supplies while hampering the movements and diminishing the security of the army. Ten thousand Mozarabes, many of whom were accompanied by their families, preferring the doubtful issue of a military campaign and the hardships of a long and tedious march to the certain severities of Moorish vengeance, impeded the march of the Christians. It was hardly consistent with the dictates of humanity to desert these refugees, connected with his race by the double ties of blood and religion; and Alfonso was forced, much against his will, to tolerate their presence and assure them of his protection. After a few days’ sojourn at Velez-Malaga, the army began its homeward march through the mountains of Guadix. From that moment until the boundary of Aragon was reached, its progress was marked by incessant battle. The country swarmed with Moorish horsemen. The camp was repeatedly stormed. The noonday halt, the passage of a stream, the approach to a mountain defile, was certain to provoke a bloody encounter. Hundreds of exhausted women and children, unable to bear the fatigue of the march, were, with the wounded, daily abandoned to the rage of a vindictive enemy. When Alfonso entered his capital, it would have been difficult to recognize in his emaciated and dejected followers, whose ragged garments and battered armor bore evidence of many a hotly contested skirmish, the splendid array of knights which almost a year before had with exultant confidence set forth, as upon a holiday excursion, to capture the city of Granada. No enterprise in the wars of the Peninsula was inaugurated under more brilliant auspices and was more unproductive of results. The indecision with which its operations were conducted was itself a precursor of disaster. The valor of the Aragonese chivalry was expended in a series of fruitless and inglorious contests with Andalusian mountaineers. The accomplishment of the main object of the expedition was never seriously attempted. No victory contributed its lustre to the waning reputation of the Christians. Not a foot of territory had been added to the realms of the invader. No spoil consoled him for the loss of glory, no prisoners swelled his train. Cities unprotected by fortifications had successfully resisted the assaults of his bravest soldiers. No substantial benefit could be derived from indecisive engagements, protracted sieges, difficult marches through a hostile country, forays unrewarded with either captives or plunder. It was true that the Moorish states of Andalusia had been traversed from end to end; that a portion of their territory had been desolated; that the emblem of Christian faith had been displayed, for the second time since the rout of the Guadalete, on the shores of the Mediterranean. These, however, were but evidences of a barren triumph. The vulnerability of the Moslem empire, since the fall of the khalifate, had been repeatedly demonstrated. Predatory expeditions undertaken without the prestige of royalty had often inflicted far more damage on the enemy than that which had accompanied an invasion by picked troops of the Aragonese kingdom. The only real advantage remained with the Moslems of Granada, who were made acquainted with the disaffection of their Mozarabe subjects, and were enabled to provide against future outbreaks by the permanent suppression and removal of a treacherous population, which had long been a menace to public security. The Mozarabes expiated by poverty and chains, by exile and death, their ill-timed effort to escape the vexations of Moslem rule. Their lands were forcibly occupied by their Arab neighbors. Their effects were seized and sold at auction. Hundreds expired amidst the noxious vapors of subterranean dungeons. Such as had openly joined the Christian army were, with their families, condemned to slavery, and were purchased by Jewish traders to be again disposed of in the markets of Asia. The majority of the others, by order of the Sultan, were banished to Africa, where, in the vicinity of Mequinez and Salé, many of them eventually perished by disease and famine. After the lapse of eleven years a final deportation of these troublesome subjects, who seem to have given renewed cause for offence, was effected; and the kingdom of Granada, which formerly possessed the largest number of tributary Christians in the empire, was now almost entirely deprived of this element of its population. The places of the exiles were supplied by African colonists, whose modern descendants, in their swarthy complexions, their curling locks, and their general mental characteristics, have preserved unmistakable tokens of their Mauritanian ancestry.

In the midst of his foreign and domestic tribulations, the death of Temim, the Viceroy of Spain, brought fresh perplexity and sorrow to the heart of Ali. A worthy successor of that able warrior was found, however, in Tashfin, the promising heir of the Almoravide throne. The youth of that prince proved rather an inducement than an objection to his appointment to a responsible command. He gained several victories over the Christians, ravaged the valley of the Tagus as far as the gates of Toledo, and in a few short campaigns added to the possessions of his father more than thirty fortresses and castles. Aragon, long involved in hostilities with Castile, had recently obtained an important accession of territory and power. Saif-al-Daulat, the son of the last Emir of Saragossa, unable to hold the remaining cities of his principality, harassed by Christian and Moslem alike, surrendered them to Alfonso. The latter, desiring communication with the South,—still closed by Moslem occupation,—pushed his advance along the valley of the Ebro. Mequinenza was taken after a short resistance and its garrison massacred. Then the Christian army invested Fraga. This fortress, situated on a lofty and isolated mountain, was considered one of the most impregnable places in the Peninsula, and, commanding the navigation of the Ebro, was the key of Southern Aragon. The Moors, recognizing its value, had removed all persons unable to bear arms; had provided its magazines with provisions sufficient for a long siege, and had manned its fortifications with a force of several thousand veterans, who, warned by the fate of their brethren at Mequinenza, were nerved to an obstinate defence. The siege was signalized by a series of desperate encounters, in which both parties utilized every resource of military stratagem and personal prowess. At the first appearance of the Christians before the principal bulwark of the now contracted Mussulman frontier, a general alarm had been sounded in all the cities of Spain and Africa. The Emir, relieved for the time from apprehensions of the Almohades, despatched a powerful army for the relief of Fraga. With its ranks largely reinforced by Andalusian levies, the Berber host, whose supplies were transported upon hundreds of camels, advanced rapidly along the Ebro until it came in sight of the besiegers’ camp. Contrary to custom, but with a design whose wisdom soon became fatally apparent, the convoy with the baggage preceded the main body on the march. The soldiers of Alfonso, presuming that the camels were loaded with provisions for the garrison, and deceived by the feeble escort which protected them, rushed forward in tumultuous disorder and attacked the guard. The latter retreated, and the Christians, unwarily drawn into the mountain ravines, were surrounded. Almost helpless in their confined situation, with enemies swarming on every side and the air darkened with clouds of missiles, their army was soon annihilated. The situation, which forbade alike successful defence or orderly retreat; the bewildering sensations produced by the unexpected apparition of myriads of ferocious warriors; the repeated charges which by sheer force of numbers overpowered at once the foremost ranks of the Aragonese; the countless stones and arrows which poured down from crag and hillside, soon decided the bloody and unequal contest. Scarcely an hour elapsed before the Christians succumbed to the superior numbers and equal valor of their foes. One after another the bravest knights of Aragon, together with the flower of the French and English chivalry, whom crusading ambition and the love of adventure had allured to the standard of Alfonso, were killed while protecting their king and their commanders. With them were not a few of the highest dignitaries of the church, who, exchanging the mitre for the helmet and the crosier for the sword, had been accustomed, since the Visigothic domination, to share the fortunes of the most arduous campaigns, and to unite in the field and in the camp the duties of their peaceful profession with the stern and merciless demands of war. These martial prelates nobly sustained upon this occasion the reputation for courage which had for centuries distinguished their order above that of any other country in Europe. The bishops of Rosas, of Jaca, and of Urgel fell side by side, sword in hand. The King, supported by fifty devoted followers, resisted with desperate courage and hopeless firmness the assaults of the Moslems, exasperated by the valor of a handful of determined men. His fate, like that of Roderick the Goth, is unknown. The ecclesiastical legends of the time have celebrated, as the most glorious events of his life, his abandonment of the throne and his retirement to the cloisters of a monastery in expiation of the sins for which his defeat was assumed to be a token of divine displeasure. But the monkish annals of the Middle Ages are notoriously unreliable; the minds of their authors were clouded with ignorance and warped by prejudice; the critical faculty, so indispensable to the correctness of historical narration, was unfamiliar to them; and, to accomplish the degradation of an enemy or the exaltation of a friend, they were capable of the most disreputable inventions and the most extravagant perversions of the truth.

From the character and the life of Alfonso, it is probable that he perished with his attendants, and that his body, stripped and unrecognized, was confounded with the thousands of other corpses which encumbered the field of battle. The King of Aragon, who had won the proud appellation of El Batallador, was not the man to retire in the face of the enemy, even had it been possible. Still less would he have been willing to surrender, that the captivity of the most formidable of Christian champions should contribute to the glory of a Moslem triumph. The temper of the age was pre-eminently favorable to the exercise of imposture; an escape, procured through the miraculous intervention of saints and angels, was perfectly congenial with the superstitious ideas of the masses; and the selection of a religious house as a place of refuge and voluntary penance by an humiliated and contrite monarch could not fail to enhance the importance and extend the influence of the ecclesiastical order, already becoming intolerable for its arrogance and power. But, whatever may have been the ultimate fate of Alfonso, it is certain that his disappearance dates from the battle of Fraga. The most exhaustive historical research has failed to establish his existence subsequent to that melancholy and eventful day. His loss was a great but not an irreparable misfortune to the cause of the Reconquest. Although at the time of his death he was the most conspicuous figure in the Christian armies, others were soon found capable of prosecuting the work he had so gallantly begun, and of carrying to a successful issue the fierce and relentless crusade which only ended under the walls of the Alhambra.

As in former ages the progress of the Moslems was retarded and the stability of their empire endangered and finally undermined by intestine quarrels, so now, on the other hand, the jealousies and contentions of the rival kingdoms of Castile and Aragon were destined to prolong for centuries their struggle for national and religious supremacy. The intrigues of hostile chieftains, the greed and ambition of the clergy, the passions of dissolute and unprincipled women, the unnatural aversion of two nations identical in origin, proud of the same traditions, professing the same theological dogmas; the prejudices of the fanatical masses, absolutely controlled by a despotic and ignorant priesthood, were all-important factors in determining the policy of the as yet unorganized Christian states of the Peninsula. The mutual hostility of the kingdoms subsequently united under Ferdinand and Isabella insured the continuance of Moorish dominion far more effectually than the levying of contributions, the forming of alliances, the enlistment of armies. Bodies of Moslem mercenaries served alternately with the troops of both contending parties, and those who fought side by side to-day might meet as enemies to-morrow. Not infrequently impoverished and unscrupulous vassals of the Christian monarchs were induced to revolt before a projected invasion by the judicious employment of Moorish gold. Thus arrayed against each other, with treachery in their camps and foes in their rear, the Spanish princes were constantly hampered in the execution of their plans of conquest. Other causes contributed to their want of success. The Christian generals could often win, but were seldom disposed to improve a victory. Feudal independence, now first interposed as a disturbing force, was implacably hostile to discipline; the vassal obeyed his suzerain; but the noble whose origin was often as illustrious as that of his king was only too ready to question, or even to defy, the regal authority. The incapacity to appreciate the resultant advantages of military success was also a characteristic of the Moors. A great battle usually ended a campaign. But the enemy was rarely pursued beyond the field; his camp was overrun by a disorganized mob in search of plunder; his baggage was ransacked; his seraglio appropriated; his wounded massacred. The dispersed remnants of his army were afforded abundant time to reorganize and to again become formidable. The ability of the Moslems to profit by the discomfiture of an adversary disappeared with the great soldier Al-Mansur. Generations were to elapse before the Spanish commanders, recognizing untiring energy as an indispensable requisite of permanent success, were enabled to plant their banners on the towers of Cordova and Seville. In no great contest described in history were such fierce battles fought, such bodies of men dispersed, such losses of life sustained, and such paltry results accomplished. On more than one occasion a sovereign, the moral effect of whose capture would have been almost equivalent to a great victory, was suffered to escape from the very hands of the enemy. In a few weeks a force which had been apparently destroyed confronted the victor as defiantly as ever. The defenceless condition of the Moslem states had been thoroughly established. Their territory had been penetrated in every direction by squadrons of Christian cavalry, whose numbers, when compared with the inhabitants of the provinces they despoiled, were insignificant. The invaders dispersed with ease large bodies of the effeminate Andalusian horsemen. They encamped with impunity in the vicinity of populous cities. But these expeditions accomplished but little more than the destruction of a few harvests and the burning of a few villages. The campaigns on both sides were ordinarily distinguished by fraternal discord, military incapacity, and fatal indecision.

The correctness of these observations may be established by recurring to the consequences of the battle of Fraga. The rout of the Christians and the death of their king would certainly seem to have demanded a vigorous prosecution of hostilities by the victors before the popular demoralization resulting from such a catastrophe subsided. But nothing of the kind took place. The few survivors of the defeat which had wrecked the hopes of a nation spread dismay through the realms of the Christians. In Aragon, part of whose territory had recently been ceded by a degenerate prince to his hereditary enemies, and none of which was in sympathy with the usurpation of their detested masters, the people expected, with eager but fallacious hopes, the appearance of the deliverer. The merchants lounged idly in their shops. The peasantry, with sullen patience, submitted to the extortions of the Jewish farmers of the revenue. Saragossa was still, in all but name and government, a Moslem city. The muezzin still announced from her minarets the hour of prayer. The imam still read the Koran from the pulpits of her mosques. Her occupation by the Aragonese had only served to intensify the hatred entertained by her citizens against those who had profited by their betrayal. The noble recalled with mingled sorrow and exultation the military fame and intellectual pursuits of the royal House of Ibn-Hud; the husbandman viewed with unconcealed resentment the encroachments of the Church and the Crown upon his small but valuable inheritance. The valley of the Ebro still possessed many fortresses defended by natural impediments and Moslem valor. All these considerations invited the intervention of the victors, but the Moorish commander, satisfied with the barren laurels acquired at Fraga, neglected an opportunity which might have restored to the Almoravide Sultan one of the most important provinces of his empire. For several years the frontier was wasted by implacable partisan warfare; the Moslems carried into slavery the populations of entire communities; the Christians, harassed by the enemy and encumbered with their prisoners, frequently put these defenceless victims of their hostility to the sword; in the heat of battle quarter was neither asked nor given, and the struggle assumed more than ever the character of a war of extermination. The country devastated by these incessant and destructive inroads never recovered its prosperity. The once beautiful regions of the Ebro and the Pisuerga now present to the eye the sombre and monotonous aspect of a desert, and portions of the valley of the Guadalquivir, which under Moorish rule were clothed with extensive orchards and luxuriant harvests, have lapsed into primeval desolation. The ruthlessness with which these wars were prosecuted bears ample testimony to the savage inhumanity of that age. Considerations of mercy seldom influenced the conduct of the victor. Engagements contracted under circumstances of peculiar solemnity were violated without provocation and without excuse. In the perpetration of these enormities the Christians, encouraged and absolved by their spiritual advisers, far surpassed their antagonists. No attention was paid to the pitiful appeals of enemies stricken in the heat of battle. The heads of rebellious princes were fixed on the battlements of cities; their limbs, embalmed with campher, were exhibited as trophies in the palace of the conqueror. When a place was taken by storm, neither age, nor sex, nor infirmity were regarded by the infuriated assailants. The discovery of hidden gold by the application of torture was a favorite amusement of the Christian soldiery. If the number of captives became inconveniently large, the least valuable were butchered. The licentious passions of the Castilians were exercised without restraint upon the weak and the defenceless. Women were violated before the eyes of their husbands and fathers. The mansions of Christian nobles rivalled in their treasures of Moorish beauty the harems of the most voluptuous Andalusian princes. In the alluring diversions of sensuality, unsanctioned by law and prohibited by religion, the dignitaries of the Church were as ever pre-eminently conspicuous; and their lovely concubines, attired with a magnificence only to be procured by the use of ecclesiastical wealth, appeared at court with their lords, equally careless of unfavorable comment or of public scandal.

In Africa the movements of Abd-al-Mumen, who had been the general of the Almohades and was now their sovereign, began to excite the alarm of Ali. The successor of the Mahdi began his reign with an expedition whose destructive course extended to the city of Morocco. Tashfin, the ablest of the Almoravide captains, was recalled from Spain; but, despite his reputation and the skilful disposition of his forces, the battalions of Ali, dominated by a craven and superstitious fear, instinctively recoiled from the presence of the enemy. All the experience and resolution of the youthful prince, who had redeemed the Moslem cause in the Peninsula, were insufficient to counteract the evil influence emanating from religious fraud, which, by the force of a distempered imagination, could transform a bold and courageous people into a race of poltroons and slaves. His continual reverses preyed upon the mind of Ali, and his moments were distracted by the signs of the imminent and apparently inevitable collapse of his power. The memory of his early grandeur offered a distressing contrast to the misfortunes of his declining years; and, overcome with mortification and sorrow, he passed from life, bequeathing to his son Tashfin a disheartened army, an exhausted treasury, and a royal inheritance of diminished jurisdiction and doubtful value.

The ill-fortune of Tashfin followed him upon the throne. Defeated by Abd-al-Mumen, he collected all his resources for a supreme and final effort. Such of the Desert tribes as had held aloof from the Mahdi were enlisted. Every available soldier in Africa was called to arms. The garrisons of Andalusia were almost denuded of troops. With the Moorish squadrons of Spain came also a body of four thousand Mozarabes, who, accustomed to long service under Moslem standards, had almost forgotten their ancestry, their traditions, and their faith. These auxiliaries, amenable to discipline and experienced in border warfare, were far more formidable than their scanty numbers would denote.

On the plains of Tlemcen the two armies whose valor was to decide the fate of an empire faced each other. The Almoravides far outnumbered their foes, but the mystic spell of superstition more than compensated for numerical superiority; the soldiers of Tashfin were terrified by imaginary apparitions and supernatural voices, and after a brief but sanguinary contest Abd-al-Mumen remained master of the field. Tashfin was soon afterwards killed in the vicinity of Oran by a fall from a precipice, and with his death vanished the last hope of the Almoravide monarchy.

During the year 1145 a famous landmark of the Mediterranean, of unknown antiquity, but most probably of Phœnician origin, was destroyed. Near the city of Cadiz, and built in the waters of the bay, had long stood a structure composed of a series of columns, rising above each other to the height of one hundred and eighty feet and surmounted by a colossal statue of bronze. The latter represented a man with his right arm extended towards the Strait of Gibraltar and grasping in his hand a key. The entire statue was heavily plated with gold, and was a conspicuous object for a distance of many leagues. Its origin was not less mysterious than the reason for its preservation for nearly four centuries and a half after the Moslem conquest. The well-known iconoclastic propensities of the followers of Mohammed were indulged with every opportunity and against every symbol of idolatrous worship. There was probably no souvenir of Pagan antiquity in Africa or Spain so prominent and so well known as the effigy which, for a period unrecorded even by tradition, indicated to the mariner the gateway of the Mediterranean. The Romans and the Goths, confounding it with the two historic promontories of Europe and Africa, called the imposing structure that supported it the Pillars of Hercules. But it certainly had no connection with that divinity. His temple stood some miles away upon an island, and it was the distinctive peculiarity of his worship among the Phœnicians that he was never represented under a physical form. To the Arabs the statue was known as “The Idol of Cadiz.” A singular fatality had preserved it from the zeal and fury of early sectaries of Islam. It had, no doubt, often awakened the pious horror of devout pilgrims on their way to the shrine of the western Mecca. It had stimulated the curiosity of the antiquary during the scientific period of the khalifate. It had pointed the way to many an invading squadron. It had witnessed the success or the failure of many revolutions. The truculent Norman pirates had viewed its gigantic dimensions with superstitious terror. In the sagas of Scandinavia is preserved the tradition that St. Olaf and his freebooters were, during the eleventh century, deterred from further prosecution of their ravages on the coast of the Peninsula by a vision which its presence inspired. Its immunity from the effects of fanaticism is not less remarkable than its long exemption from the violence of rapacious marauders. A great treasure was said to be concealed beneath the foundations of the tower. It was also the general belief—not confined to the Peninsula, but prevalent throughout Europe—that this famous statue was of solid gold. Its brilliancy, which had remained untarnished by exposure for so many centuries, tended to confirm, if not to absolutely establish, this opinion.

At last, in the twelfth century, the Admiral Ibn-Mamun, having revolted against the Almoravides, caused the statue to be overthrown and broken to pieces. The material was then discovered to be bronze, but the gold with which it was covered brought twelve thousand dinars, a sum now equal to a hundred and ninety-two thousand dollars.

Relieved of all apprehensions from his most dangerous adversary, Abd-al-Mumen attacked and captured in succession the great cities of Africa. Fez offered a desperate resistance, but was taken by damming the river by which it was traversed, until the pent-up waters, bursting their bounds, swept away a large portion of the walls. Mequinez, Aghmat, Salé capitulated. Then the siege of Morocco was begun. To convince the inhabitants of his inflexible purpose, the Almohade general caused a permanent encampment, which resembled, in the regular and substantial character of its edifices, a handsome and well-built city, to be constructed before its walls. The enterprise was prosecuted with unusual pertinacity and vigor. In a sally a large detachment of the Almoravides was decoyed into an ambuscade and cut to pieces, and, with numbers sensibly reduced by this catastrophe, the garrison confined itself for the future to repelling the scaling parties of the enemy. The complete investment of the city was soon followed by famine. The dead lay everywhere in ghastly heaps. The living drew lots to decide who should be sacrificed to provide a horrible repast for his perishing companions. Such was the awful mortality that two hundred thousand persons died of starvation and disease. Aware of the inevitable consequences of surrendering to barbarians without faith or mercy, the garrison contended bravely against hope and fortune. Finally, some Mozarabe soldiers entered into communication with Abd-al-Mumen, and it was agreed that a gate should be opened during the disorder attending a general attack. At daybreak the Almohades, eager for revenge and booty, swarmed into the city. The scimetar and the lance completed the work which famine had not had time to finish. Seventy thousand defenceless persons were massacred. Even this frightful sacrifice did not satiate the besiegers’ desire for blood. For three days such scenes were enacted as could only be tolerated among men insensible to motives of humanity and ignorant of the laws of war. Abd-al-Mumen decapitated with his own hand Abu-Ishak, the son and successor of Tashfin. The command then went forth that not one of the hated sect should be spared. Great numbers of women and children were slaughtered by the savage conquerors and the survivors sold into slavery. Every mosque was levelled with the ground as the only way to purify the houses of God from the abominations of the heretical Almoravides. Preparations were immediately made to erect upon their sites others more extensive and magnificent, and Abd-al-Mumen, who all the while had remained outside the gates, marched away to other scenes of conquest.

A century had elapsed since Abdallah-Ibn-Jahsim had announced to the tribesmen of Lamtounah his mission as the apostle of political integrity and religious reformation. Based upon his teachings, and supported by his military genius and the prowess of his followers, a mighty empire had arisen. With incredible rapidity it had combined in apparently indissoluble union contending nationalities, hostile dogmas, antagonistic temporal interests. It had subjugated a great part of the continent of Africa. It had reconciled the discordant social and political elements which for generations had disturbed the peace and diminished the power of the Moslem states of Spain. It had checked the progress of Christian conquest. By its sweeping victories it had revived the memory of the splendid achievements of the Western Khalifate. The largest armies that had ever trodden the soil of the Peninsula had marched under its banners. Its chiefs were, without exception, men of signal ability. Some, it is true, were destitute of experience in the art of government, but endowed with rare executive talents; others were warriors of established renown; all had exhibited in the exalted post to which they had been called by fortune the qualities of great generals, diplomatists, legislators. The genius of the last of that princely race, had his designs not been frustrated by the Almohade revolution, promised the eventual restoration of Moorish rule over much, if not all, of the territory included in the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile. The rise and progress of no dynasty to boundless power had been so rapid; the decline of none had been more decided or its extinction more destructive and fatal. Mohammedan Spain, still the most civilized and polished of countries, whose court had once dictated the policy of Western Europe; whose alliance had been assiduously courted by Christian kings and emperors; whose armies marched each year to victory; whose fleets monopolized the trade of the seas; whose capital was the literary centre of the world, had been degraded to a dependency of the most ignorant, the most superstitious, the most brutal of nations. The hazardous experiment of establishing a peaceable union between such incongruous and inimical populations must have resulted in failure. Still less could such an undertaking have succeeded when attempted by force. The ethnical elements of Spain and Africa could never have coalesced into a single people. Their enmity was irreconcilable. Their tastes were dissimilar. The Hispano-Arab was a scholar, a philosopher, a gentleman. In spite of the evils which afflicted his country, his colleges and academies were still largely attended by the ambitious youth of distant, often of hostile, nations. He still had access to the fragmentary remains of the great libraries of the khalifs. The architectural monuments of his ancestors still graced, in all their splendor and beauty, the esplanades and thoroughfares of his capitals. Pilgrims still admired with astonishment and rapture the most magnificent temple of Islam. The sacred volume ascribed to the martyred Othman, enshrined in its embossed and jewel-studded casket, still received, amidst the lavish sculpture and sparkling enamels of the Mihrab, the reverential homage of the Faithful. The diminished but not unimportant commerce of his seaports; the manufacturing establishments, whose products were largely exported to foreign countries; the contracted but marvellously fertile area of his agricultural territory, daily reminded the Spanish Moslem of the wisdom and the enterprise developed by the subjects of that glorious empire whose institutions, whose traditions, whose refined tastes, whose intellectual pre-eminence he had inherited.

Far different was it with the conqueror who had appropriated and abused the inestimable remains of all this greatness. From first to last his movements seemed to have been inspired by the genius of disorganization and ruin. The noble attributes of piety and magnanimity were absolutely foreign to his nature. He spared no foe. He forgave no injury. The essential doctrines of the religion he nominally professed were in reality unknown to him. He was wholly ignorant of letters. In the gratification of his savage passions the shedding of blood took precedence of the grovelling instinct of avarice or the more gentle allurements of licentious pleasures. His stolid nature could not appreciate the charms of art, the benefits of science, the delights and the consolations of literature, the advantages of philosophy. All that did not contribute to sensual enjoyment he turned from with disdain. Descended from a race of brigands, who had from time immemorial exercised on the caravans of the Desert the stratagems and the violence of their nefarious calling, he considered the menial and sedentary occupations of agricultural and manufacturing industry as only fit for the hireling and the slave. Ever accustomed to individual freedom, he obeyed only the orders of his sheik, who owed his promotion to the suffrage of the tribe, and who was often elected or deposed with equal haste and facility. The monarch was frequently as unlettered as his meanest subject. Yusuf could neither read nor write, and understood but imperfectly the copious and polished idiom spoken in many provinces of his dominions. Ali was less intelligent than many a youth in the primary schools of Cordova. This wide-spread and deplorable contempt for learning virtually placed the power of the state in the hands of a class least qualified to wield it; and the intrigues and exactions of the Mohammedan clergy, supplemented with African barbarism and rapacity, contributed more than domestic convulsions or Christian valor to finally subvert the unstable but still majestic fabric of the Saracen power.

The Moslem factions of the Peninsula joined in precarious union under the sceptre of the Almoravides beheld with dismal forebodings the successive and crushing misfortunes which preceded the extinction of that dynasty. Neither religious accord nor political necessity would have reconciled them to the domination of a race between whose members and themselves there existed an irreconcilable antipathy. But on many points of theological controversy the liberal views of the most learned Moorish doctors shocked the strict disciplinarians of Islam. These accomplished polemical scholars had imbibed in the Universities of Seville and Cordova ideas highly offensive to the severely orthodox; they had indulged their wit at the expense of hypocrisy and ignorance in the intellectual atmosphere of the court, and the vengeance of those who were recently the objects of their satire had now descended with redoubled force upon the thoughtless aggressors. All books except the Koran and the Sunnah fell under the royal displeasure. The study of philosophy, although prohibited in the schools, was, as is usual under such circumstances, diligently pursued in secret. The intellectual habits of centuries were not to be abolished by an imperial edict, and the reprobation of a band of hypocrites and zealots who preached self-denial and abstemiousness, and were notoriously guilty of the grossest offences against morality, was unable to entirely suppress the accumulation and the diffusion of knowledge. No country in Europe, however, was more exclusively and disastrously controlled by ecclesiastical influence than was Moorish Spain under the rule of the Almoravides.

Aside from theological considerations, as has been previously stated, universal dissatisfaction with the dominant race existed. The Africans were regarded as foreigners, invaders, oppressors. They had, even in their moments of leisure, contributed nothing to the material wealth of the country. They were unacquainted with the simplest principles of engineering or the adaptation of the mechanical arts to the ordinary concerns of life. No structure worthy of notice had risen under their auspices. Their native ferocity remained unmitigated in the midst of the humanizing influences of civilization. They discouraged manual labor and despised the occupations by which that labor was employed and maintained. Thus harassed by theological intolerance and barbarian tyranny, every sect and party in the Peninsula, except the one in power, received with secret exultation intelligence of the serious disasters to the Almoravide cause. Public feeling was already aroused to a point which almost defied restraint, when news arrived of the defeat and death of Tashfin, whose well-known abilities and courage had heretofore alone prevented a revolt. It was then that the long suppressed and furious passions of an outraged people found expression. In every Moslem community the mob rose against their African tyrants. Ibn-Gamia, the lieutenant of Tashfin, fled to the Balearic Isles. Complete anarchy prevailed. Governors of provinces and commanders of fortresses aspired to independence. Each city became the capital of a miniature kingdom, each castle the seat of a principality. Forgetting the imminent peril in which they stood, environed as they were by powerful enemies, these petty sovereigns immediately turned against each other. Civil war of the most sanguinary and vindictive character was inaugurated. Cordova deposed her governor, installed another, and, after eight days, recalled the first to power. At Granada the Almoravide garrison was besieged for months in the citadel. In some provinces the inconstant temper of the multitude, which selected and murdered their rulers with equal alacrity, made the promotion to supreme authority, usually so coveted by ambitious men, a distinction of the most doubtful and invidious character. The Kadi of Cordova, whose office retained to a considerable extent the dignity and importance with which it was invested under the khalifs as the first judicial employment in the empire, was assassinated while at prayer in the mosque. The appearance of an African in the streets of any Andalusian city immediately provoked a riot. The obligations of hospitality were forgotten in the gratification of vengeance. Obnoxious ministers were poisoned amidst the festivities of the banquet. Military officers whose loyalty interposed obstacles to the ambition of obscure and unprincipled adventurers were murdered while asleep. The dangerous aid of the Christian princes, only too willing to contribute to the mutual embarrassment and enmity of their Mussulman neighbors, was invoked. Ibn-Gamia had succeeded in organizing a considerable party of adherents, and had obtained from Alfonso VII., King of Castile, a body of troops on condition of the acknowledgment of the latter as suzerain. Baeza was the first place to submit to Ibn-Gamia, and its surrender was immediately followed by the siege of Cordova. In this singular warfare, Moslems and Christians, although their efforts were directed against a common enemy, fought and encamped apart, serving independently under their respective commanders. The Castilians, conscious of their power, treated their allies with undisguised contempt, and haughtily ascribed to Christian valor alone the achievement of every successful enterprise. The venerable capital, incapable of prolonged resistance, soon opened its gates to the besiegers. The entry of the Christians was rendered memorable by the commission of a sacrilege in comparison with which the profanations of former conquerors were trivial. The Great Mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, one of the holy places of Islam, which since its foundation had never been profaned by the presence of an infidel, was invaded by the rude Castilian soldiery. They rode through its court, fragrant with the odors of innumerable orange blossoms. They tethered their war-horses in its arcades. They bathed in the basins whose waters had hitherto been sacred to the ablutions of the Moslem ceremonial. Inside the edifice raised by the tribute of Christian cities and the spoils of a hundred victorious campaigns, they sauntered through the colonnades and gazed with wonder upon the Mihrab blazing with all the gorgeous magnificence of the East. The religious sentiments and prejudices of their allies received no consideration at the hands of these scoffing mercenaries. Despite the remonstrances of the Moslems, they desecrated the precincts of the sanctuary. Some mounted the pulpit and derided with indecent mockery the postures and genuflexions of the Mussulman worship. Their eyes glared with unrestrained cupidity upon the casket of sandal-wood and ebony enriched with gems which contained the Koran of Othman. With flippant and sneering comments they examined that volume, venerated by the Moslems of every age and nation with all the superstitious reverence of idolatry. They removed it from its receptacle, turned over its leaves, and gazed with incredulity and contempt on the mysterious stains which tradition and faith attributed to the blood of the murdered Khalif. In their intercourse with the citizens their overbearing demeanor and insatiable rapacity caused the encroachments of Moslem tyranny to be almost forgotten. Their leaders, assuming all the credit of a conquest in which they had figured in a subordinate capacity, demanded that Cordova be added to the realms of Castile. This proposition, repugnant to every sense of justice, was promptly rejected by the Moslems. A serious altercation followed; the rival captains mutually refused to yield, and a collision seemed imminent, when through the adoption of prudent counsels matters were adjusted by the cession of Baeza, which was immediately occupied by a detachment of Christian troops.

The subjection of Africa by the Almohades had scarcely been effected when Abd-al-Mumen began to take measures for the establishment of his power in the Peninsula. An army of thirty thousand soldiers, commanded by Abu-Amrah-Musa, landed at Algeziras. The march of this formidable army resembled a triumphal progress rather than the cautious movements of a hostile force. The people, with characteristic inconstancy, welcomed the savage invaders as the deliverers of their country. Algeziras, with its ample port and well-provided magazines and arsenals; Tarifa, with its impregnable defences; Xeres, with its wealth of orange groves and vineyards, opened their gates to the enemy. Then Abu-Amrah, flushed with success, pushed on to Seville. On the march his ranks were swelled by numerous accessions from the peasantry, actuated by the prospect of plunder and the hope of retribution. To these undisciplined but serviceable recruits was added a considerable and well-equipped reinforcement from the province of Badajoz. Seville had remained nominally loyal to the Almoravides; but her population was divided by faction, and thousands of citizens cherished in secret implacable resentment against their cruel and avaricious masters. Warning was conveyed to the garrison of the treasonable intentions of the populace, which had promised to deliver the city to the Africans, and it escaped to Carmona before the appearance of the enemy. Seville was no sooner occupied than Malaga, always susceptible to African influence, and whose inhabitants had probably long been cognizant of the projected invasion, voluntarily submitted to the Almohades and added another to their list of bloodless but decisive triumphs.

The memory of the exploits of the Almoravide generals, and the appearance of a new and victorious enemy in the South, had reconciled the quarrels of the Christian states far more effectually than all the concessions of diplomacy or the exhortations and anathemas of the Church. Envoys from the Italian republics of Venice, Pisa, and Genoa had recently visited the Castilian court and represented to the King the important service he could confer upon Christendom by the suppression of the pirates who, from their stronghold at Almeria, threatened the destruction of commerce on the Mediterranean. The depredations of these adventurous rovers carried terror into every part of Southern Europe. Their vessels swept the coast from Bayonne to Constantinople, defied the combined navies of Italy and the Empire of the East, and had already materially reduced the wealth and disturbed the trade of many populous and important cities. It seems extraordinary that under such circumstances application for relief should have been made to the remote kingdom of Castile. It was separated from Almeria by the entire length of the Spanish Peninsula. Vast tracts of barren lands, provinces swarming with a hostile and warlike population, were interposed between its plains and the tropical coast of Andalusia. A formidable enemy had just established himself in the most fertile districts of the South. The port of Malaga, in close proximity to the destination of the expedition, was in his power. It is true that the republics of Italy, united by a common faith and sympathizers in a common cause, had long been allies of the Christian kingdoms of Northern Spain. But something more than hatred of the Moslem and devotion to the interests of the Church must have impelled Alfonso VII. to undertake an enterprise of certain difficulty and of doubtful success. A foe that had vanquished a dynasty whose armies had repeatedly desolated his kingdom and insulted his capital already menaced his borders. It is highly probable that the Pope, influenced by temporal far more than by spiritual considerations, may have proposed or even dictated the terms of this alliance. It was no unusual thing for the Holy Father, whose vow of poverty, like many other moral obligations, gave him little concern, to share in the profits of commerce. The private revenues of His Holiness, often inadequate to the prodigal expenditures required for the pomp and luxury of the Vatican, could easily be increased by mercantile speculations, and the Moorish corsair in his indiscriminate depredations would certainly not respect the property of the highest dignitary of a hostile faith. The character of Eugenius III. gives color to this hypothesis. His court, under the threadbare cloak of asceticism, was shockingly corrupt. The institution of begging friars, the imposition of frequent penances, the observation of fasts, the performance of pilgrimage, could not conceal from the eyes of the least discerning the universal and notorious profligacy which infected every profession and every class of society in Rome. The avarice of the Pope himself was proverbial. Blessings, indulgences, and absolutions, whose prices were regulated by an established tariff, were sold by the clergy, and wealthy or repentant sinners in multitudes availed themselves of the facilities for wickedness or of the immunity from ecclesiastical censure afforded by traffic in this spiritual merchandise. The mercenary and grasping disposition of Eugenius was also subsequently confirmed by his sale of Portugal to Alfonso Henriquez, in flagrant contravention of the rights of the King of Castile. These circumstances serve to explain the unprofitable siege of a distant seaport by a power having no immediate interest in its subjugation, when a vigorous campaign by the united Christians would in all probability have prevented the renewed calamities of African invasion and have materially accelerated the progress of the Reconquest.

The sacred character of an enterprise openly patronized by the Holy See, and directed by some of the greatest princes of Europe, attracted volunteers from every country in Christendom. As usual, the prospect of booty was a much more potent incentive than the punishment of infidels or the propagation of the Faith. Almeria, which, aided by its geographical situation, had had the good fortune to escape the evils of conquest and anarchy that afflicted other Andalusian cities, was still the seat of affluence and power. Under the khalifate it had been the most populous and flourishing emporium of Spain. Civil war, so far from impairing its prosperity, had actually contributed to it. It still retained the manufacturing establishments whose products were exported to the limits of the civilized world. Many of the latter, such as pottery and silk, were unequalled in quality and finish, and could nowhere else be obtained. The proficiency of the artisans of Almeria in their respective avocations was proverbial, and had been acquired by experience and inheritance through many generations. The city exhibited the political phenomenon of a Moslem republic; its affairs were directed by a council presided over by a magistrate who, without openly claiming them, exercised the prerogatives of an absolute ruler. Its naval force could vie in numbers and strength with that of the most formidable commercial state of the Mediterranean. The practice of piracy had been so lucrative that the wealth and population of Almeria had greatly increased, and the ancient walls no longer sufficed to contain the innumerable houses of the citizens and the villas of the aristocracy, which, environed by plantations of tropical trees, extended for miles beyond the fortifications. The citadel was one of the largest and strongest in Europe. While closely connected by blood and sympathy with the nations of Africa, the inhabitants of the city were independent of all factions, recognized the pretensions of no dynasty, and acknowledged the authority of no government save that of their own. A force not unworthy of an Oriental crusade assembled for the conquest of this piratical stronghold. The armies of Castile, of Leon, of Aragon, of Navarre, the Counts of Montpellier and Catalonia, the combined navies of Genoa, Pisa, and Venice, and thousands of soldiers of fortune, serving in bands under their respective commanders, but without a standard and without a country, responded to the crusading appeal. No estimate of the allied host has come down to us, but its numbers were so overwhelming that not a single Moslem prince dared to assist his countrymen; and the Almerians, closely invested, without means of defence and destitute of all hope of relief, after a two months’ blockade surrendered. By the terms of capitulation, safety of their persons was assured; an unusual concession in those times, and one which indicates the introduction of a spirit of good faith and humanity into the hitherto barbarous usages of war. The Italians, by superior dexterity or assurance, obtained the larger share of the spoil; the city itself, the most valuable prize, was allotted to the Count of Barcelona, the proximity of whose dominions afforded the best security for its retention as a Christian possession; and the King of Castile, who had been the soul of the undertaking, and whose followers had been over-reached in the division of booty, was forced to be content with the conscious satisfaction of success and the profuse but empty congratulations of the Holy See. The enterprise achieved, the allied army dispersed with the unceremonious haste characteristic of enlistments under feudal institutions. Deficiency of experience and absence of discipline; impatience of the delay and inaction implied by a lengthy campaign; the want of cohesion exhibited by a force consisting of different nationalities and divided by conflicting interests; apprehension of the storms of winter in an unknown climate, dissipated in a day a force capable of the greatest military exploits.

The thirty thousand Almohades who had occupied, almost without bloodshed, much of the Andalusian territory, and were forced to remain in inactivity behind the walls of the cities which had fallen into their hands, viewed with surprise the vast preparations of the Christians and the insignificant results of their campaign. The numbers of the Africans, insufficient in themselves and distributed among a score of garrisons, were unable to cope with the enemy, and the present embarrassment of Abd-al-Mumen precluded the hope of pecuniary aid or effective reinforcements. A new Mahdi had arisen among the sands of Al-Maghreb. Of plebeian origin and menial employment,—for he earned a livelihood washing garments in the environs of Salé,—without learning or personal attractions, his rude eloquence soon collected around him a numerous body of disciples. The remains of the Almoravide faction, all those who were dissatisfied with the present government, individuals allured by the charm of novelty, thousands of proselytes, sincerely convinced of the mission of the new prophet, repaired to the hostile camp. Before Abd-al-Mumen fully realized his peril his armies had been beaten and scattered, his ablest lieutenants killed, his dominions, acquired with so much difficulty, seized by his rival, and his authority confined to the cities of Fez and Morocco, whose populace, habituated to revolt and disorder, could not be trusted. He was now enabled to appreciate the inconstant and treacherous character of the nations over whom he had established a nominal empire. Fortune, however, proved in the end propitious to the chief of the Almohades; his rival was defeated in a pitched battle and killed, and his fickle subjects returned to their allegiance with the same enthusiasm with which they had so recently renounced it.

In the mean time, after the capture of Almeria, the Christians began again to exert their power in every Moslem province of the Peninsula. The Count of Barcelona, supported by the Italian fleets, invested and took Tortosa, which commanded the mouth of the Ebro. Its submission was followed by the conquest of Lerida, Fraga, and Mequinenza, and the great river of Aragon, now open to the sea, marked for a brief period the gradually contracting boundary of the Moorish possessions of Eastern Spain. The rising monarchy of Portugal, for the first time beginning to assert itself among nations, acquired renewed prestige by the capture of Cintra and Lisbon. The movements of Ibn-Gamia, whose valor and activity still sustained the sinking fortunes of the Almoravide cause, stimulated the Almohades to exertion. Worsted in several encounters, he retired to Cordova, but, unable to maintain his ground, he placed his lieutenant Yahya in command and effected a retreat by night after the Almohades had encamped before the city. Yahya, by a prompt submission, averted the carnage which in these wars inevitably followed a protracted defence, and the ancient metropolis of the khalifate once more submitted to the rule of a foreign master. In the Great Mosque, the scene of so many triumphs and humiliations, which had witnessed the installation of a long succession of Moslem princes, the public exhibition of the trophies of conquest, the murder of magistrates, the tumults of revolution, Abd-al-Mumen was proclaimed Emir of the Mussulmans of Spain. The fierce spirit of the invaders seems to have been restrained by the dangers of the situation, the uncertainty of support, and the activity of the Christians, considerations which rendered leniency towards the vanquished not only politic but necessary. Carmona was soon added to the Almohade conquests and Ibn-Gamia fled to Granada, where he afterwards fell in battle. His partisans then espoused in a body the cause of Alfonso of Castile. With this open defection the condition of the Spanish Moslems became more desperate. Divided among themselves, with half of their best soldiers fighting under the banners of their hereditary foe, apparently abandoned by the prince raised to imperial power in the religious centre of the kingdom, without resources, without prospect of assistance, nothing but the presence of the Almohades preserved the relics of the khalifate from immediate absorption by the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon. Finally, Abd-al-Mumen, having consolidated his empire in Africa, and moved by the entreaties of his Andalusian subjects, who sent a deputation of five hundred citizens to invoke his aid, despatched an army under his son Abu-Said to the Peninsula. The city of Almeria, whose situation, in a strategic point of view, commanded the coast of Africa, was the object of the expedition. The siege having been formed, an ineffectual attempt was made by Alfonso for the relief of the garrison, after which it was abandoned to its fate. The forces of Abd-al-Mumen not being able to blockade the port, it was found impossible to reduce the place by famine, and the strength of the fortifications precluded all hope of taking it by storm. The patience and endurance of the garrison, however, were exhausted by constant alarms and by the indefatigable perseverance of the enemy, and the Moslems, after an exclusion of ten years, regained possession of the most formidable stronghold of Andalusia.

This decisive success was supplemented by other and scarcely less important achievements. The populous city of Niebla, a dependency of Seville, was stormed by Abu-Zacaria, who had been one of the Almohade commanders during the former invasion. Its stubborn resistance provoked the commission of the greatest barbarities in the hour of triumph. No male of mature years survived the carnage of the assault. In compliance with the customs of Berber warfare, the children were destined for the slave market, the women for the seraglio. Such was the unbridled fury of the conqueror that in a single suburb of the ill-fated city eight thousand victims of African savagery paid the last penalty of defeat. The arms of the Almohades were now turned against Granada. That capital, after a short and bloody resistance, was carried by the troops of Abu-Said, and the horrors of Niebla were repeated upon the Christian garrison, who atoned with their lives for the ill-advised alliance of the last representatives of the Almoravides with the sovereign of Castile. The capture of Granada marks the final descent from power of that party whose tyranny and depredations had for almost a generation disturbed the peace of the Peninsula.

The experience of Abd-al-Mumen with treacherous vassals and daring impostors made him reluctant to leave his capital, constantly exposed to revolution, for the sake of confirming his power over the Moslem states of Spain. And, indeed, there seemed to be but little necessity for his personal appearance in Andalusia. In addition to the native auxiliaries there were now fifty thousand Almohade veterans in that country. His generals had demonstrated their ability for command on many fields of battle. The principal cities of the South—Cordova, Seville, Carmona, Granada, Malaga, Almeria, Badajoz—were garrisoned by his troops. His armies had as yet sustained no repulse; the most fertile districts furnished them with abundant subsistence; a considerable tribute was collected from the Jews and Mozarabes, who were compelled to pay liberally for privileges and protection which they did not enjoy; Alfonso VII., the most redoubtable enemy of the Moslems, had recently died, and the other Christian princes, doubtful of their strength, hesitated to confront the victorious Almohade squadrons. Although determined not to imperil his crown by a prolonged absence from his capital, Abd-al-Mumen paid a visit to Gibraltar, which he strongly fortified, and where he received the homage of the various officials of his recently acquired dominions.

Almost simultaneously with the disappearance of the Almoravides a new champion of Hispano-Arab independence arose in the east of the Peninsula. Mohammed-Ibn-Saad, Prince of Valencia, attempted, but without success, to oppose the authority of the hated Africans. Routed before Granada, he organized another army in the Alpujarras and, reinforced by a body of Christians from Toledo, again tried the fortunes of war under the walls of Cordova. The bravery of the Andalusians availed little in the presence of the invincible veterans of Abd-al-Mumen. They were cut to pieces, and their leader, Ibn-Saad, escaping with difficulty, fled to Murcia.

The martial spirit of Abd-al-Mumen was not enfeebled either by increasing physical infirmities or by the accumulated weight of years. The unsettled state of affairs in Spain and the unsatisfactory results accomplished by his generals, whose victories, however brilliant, seemed to inflict but trifling injury on the enemy, convinced him of the necessity for an aggressive and decisive campaign. The innumerable tribes, provinces, and kingdoms of Africa united under his sceptre had submitted without murmur or hesitation to the exercise of despotic power. The wisdom of his administration, the severity with which rebels and outlaws were punished, diffused a wholesome dread of his anger throughout the vast Almohade monarchy, more extensive even than that ruled by any of his predecessors and reaching from the Mediterranean to the south of the Sahara, from the Atlantic to the valley of the Nile. Supplies sufficient for the maintenance of an immense army were collected at Tangier, Algeziras, Gibraltar. Then the proclamation of the Holy War was issued. There responded to that welcome summons nearly half a million men. But before they could be assembled and organized for action, Abd-al-Mumen expired, bequeathing his throne and the execution of his projects of ambition to his third and favorite son, Abu-Yakub-Yusuf, a prince eminently worthy of the responsibilities imposed upon him by paternal favor and the caprice of fortune.

The character of Abd-al-Mumen presents an epitome of the homely virtues and ferocious vices of the Desert. In the attainment of his ends he was seldom swayed by considerations of pity, honor, or benevolence. He never shrank from indiscriminate butchery in the heat of battle. He seldom hesitated to pardon a defeated and submissive foe. In the dispensation of justice the culprit promptly underwent the extreme penalty of violated law. The attention of the founder of a stupendous empire was not entirely engrossed by schemes of war and conquest. He established schools and colleges in the larger cities of his dominions, fostered literature, encouraged art. The most talented and accomplished teachers in the entire realm of Islam were attracted to his court, where, honored with the friendship and enriched by the liberality of their royal patron, their efforts were directed to the education of youth. Three thousand of the latter, selected from the most distinguished families, were assembled in a university at the capital, where they not only profited by the instruction of learned professors, but were daily exercised in the military evolutions essential to a competent knowledge of the art of war—the manœuvring, the encampment, and the discipline of armies. Under the care of such a monarch the city of Morocco became a metropolis worthy of an empire which comprehended an hundred distinct tribes and nations, and whose opposite boundaries were separated by a four months’ journey. The royal residence and its gardens enclosed a vast area beautified by every resource of art and luxury. The inventive genius of skilful foreign artisans had provided both palace and mosque with many appliances of wonderful ingenuity,—doors which opened and closed apparently without human agency; pulpits and tribunes which, acting automatically, moved to and fro impelled by hidden mechanism; fountains whose jets, mysteriously controlled by valves and springs, were the perpetual delight and wonder of the people.

Under his administration hundreds of vessels were constructed; the navy-yards were enlarged and increased in number, and powerful fleets bearing the white standard of the Almohades maintained the dignity of the Sultan of Africa and Spain in every quarter of the Mediterranean.

The long reign of Abd-al-Mumen, who governed Spain entirely through his viceroys, was not less injurious to the interests of that country than the domination of the Almoravides had been. The plague of civil war, the menace of Christian conquest, the evils of revolution and anarchy, the ferocity of the remorseless conqueror, with whom resistance was an offence only to be expiated by death or slavery, were conditions fatal to agricultural and commercial prosperity. Moorish Spain, once the proud mistress of the Occident, the seat of learning and the arts, now the sport of fortune and the prey of savage hordes nurtured amidst the African deserts, was, with the passage of each decade, rapidly descending in the scale of civilization. Her political influence and the prestige of her name had disappeared. The wealth accumulated under the beneficent rule of the Ommeyade dynasty had either been dissipated in luxury or been borne away by barbarian invaders. The time was almost at hand when a religious tyranny, more grievous in its burdens, more cruel in the inexorable severity of its decrees, than the worst examples of African despotism, was to be imposed on the descendants of a people which had made the Western Khalifate the seat of the most opulent, the most intellectual, the most powerful of nations.

Yusuf, the new Sultan of the Almohades, distrusting the loyalty of his subjects, and apprehensive of a disputed succession, had no sooner ascended the throne than he disbanded the great army collected by his father for the subjection of the Peninsula. A well-balanced and discriminating mind, an excellent education acquired under the direction of the most learned doctors of the age, unusual proficiency in the martial exercises practised with such assiduity by the Mauritanian youth, considerable experience in the arts of policy and in the conduct of campaigns, admirably fitted Yusuf for the cares of government. The summary measures adopted by his father to maintain public security, and his own well-established reputation for ability and resolution, preserved his accession from the dangers of revolt. A few insignificant demonstrations by the restless tribes of the Atlas, which were speedily and mercilessly repressed, disturbed the first few months of his reign. But no pretender rose to dispute his claims to sovereignty; no prophet ventured to arouse the credulous and fanatical swarms of the Desert; no concerted movement of discontented chieftains threatened the permanence of a monarchy which had been founded on revolution, and whose history had been marked by incessant turmoil and sedition. Satisfied with the peaceful condition of his African possessions, Yusuf, having sent to Spain twenty thousand of his choicest troops, after a short delay followed them, and, assuming the supreme command, established his residence at Seville. The discord existing between the petty rulers of the Moslem states, whose enmity was the more decided in proportion to their incapacity to indulge it, operated in the most signal manner to the advantage of his cause. Ibn-Saad, lord of Eastern Spain, whose kingdom included the cities of Murcia, Valencia, Alicante, Xativa, Denia, Lorca, many flourishing villages, and the most fertile portion of the Peninsula, was killed in an expedition to Minorca, and his sons, unable to defend their rich inheritance against both the Aragonese and the Almohades at once, entered into negotiations with Yusuf for the exchange of their territories for others less valuable, perhaps, but more secure, on the shores of Northern Africa. The bargain was soon concluded. The Murcian princes, eager to dispose of what they must otherwise inevitably lose, embarked for their new dominions; the daughter of Ibn-Saad, a pledge of the contract, became the wife of Yusuf, and the most valuable district in Spain—when the productiveness of the soil, the wealth and commercial advantages of the cities, and the density and industrious character of the population are considered—passed, without the hazards of a campaign or the loss of a single drop of blood, under the control of the Sultan of the Almohades.

It was not, however, by the peaceable arts of diplomacy alone that additions were made to the empire of Yusuf. In the west, Badajoz, repeatedly captured and retaken by Christian and Moslem, was occupied by his troops. At the head of a column of several thousand cavalry he ravaged the valley of the Tagus as far as the suburbs of Toledo. The border stronghold of Alcantara, long vaunted as impregnable, submitted to his arms. Nor was it on account of his military exploits that the name of Yusuf has been transmitted to the admiration of posterity. Although he passed but a year in the most enchanting of Andalusian cities, the evidences of his presence are to-day the principal, almost the sole, attractions of that beautiful capital. The memory of his genius and munificence have been perpetuated by the erection of quays, palaces, towers, whose stupendous dimensions are now the wonder of the modern engineer, and of mosques whose minarets were once incomparable models of architectural symmetry and elegance. He repaired and enlarged the Roman aqueduct, which still conducts from the springs of Alcalá the purest water for the use of Seville. He spanned the Guadalquivir with a bridge of boats, the counterpart and predecessor of the one which until within a century united the opposite banks of that broad and rapid stream. Its inundations, which had previously damaged property and imperilled life, were partially controlled by the construction of gigantic walls, which arrested the destructive torrent and turned it again into its proper channel. These structures served as quays, which, approached from the river-side by broad and easy stairways, greatly facilitated the unloading and shipment of merchandise. Near at hand were warehouses and magazines designed and erected by Yusuf, and whose convenience and capacity were not surpassed by those of any Mediterranean seaport. The defences of the city also claimed the attention of this wise and indefatigable monarch, whose care and vigilance no detail, however insignificant, seemed to escape. The ancient walls were repaired and new ones constructed. Numerous towers were added to command the river, among them the peculiar one now known as the Tower of Gold, where was once kept the royal treasure. In the heart of the city, and on the site of an ancient Christian church, a great mosque was founded. The plan was a rectangle of four hundred and fourteen by two hundred and seventy feet, and, although it could not in justice be considered a rival of that noble edifice, it was in many respects not far inferior to the peerless Djalma of Cordova. Its walls were fringed with Persian battlements and painted with many colors. Its arcades looked upon a court supplied with ever-murmuring fountains and fragrant with the odor of orange blossoms. Its hundreds of marble columns suggested the spoliation of many a Pagan temple. The ceiling was formed by domes of wood and stucco, whose geometrical patterns disclosed the correctness of taste and inexhaustible fertility of fancy characteristic of the labors of the Arab artist and gilder. Its mosaic pavements, its alabaster lattices, its curious arabesques presented finished types of Moorish decorative splendor nowhere more conspicuous than in his places of religious worship. At one corner of the building rose a minaret of moderate height but elaborate ornamentation, and diagonally opposite were laid the foundations of that famous tower now known as the Giralda, which, completed during the reign of the successor of Yusuf, still remains the finest specimen of Moslem architecture of its class in the world.

It was not alone in the improvement of his Spanish capital that the time and energy of the Almohade Sultan were expended. The military and naval advantages of Gibraltar had been early appreciated by the sovereigns of Africa. Its fortifications were now greatly extended and strengthened by the provident foresight of Yusuf, who recognized in its peculiar and impregnable situation the security of the Strait and the key of the Peninsula.

Summoned to Africa by the ravages of a pestilence which decimated the population of his kingdom, ignorant of medical knowledge, and abandoned to fatalism and the ministrations of charlatans, Yusuf was compelled to suspend the public works which had already produced such beneficial results amidst the decaying commerce and diminishing resources of Andalusia. The absence of the monarch became, as usual, the pretext for anarchy. With his departure the quarrels of ambitious governors of provinces and the harassing forays of the Christians were renewed. For the long period of eight years this condition of incessant and ruinous hostility continued. Then Yusuf resolved to accomplish the design matured by his father, but whose execution had been prevented by death. The Holy War was proclaimed. The forces of Africa were assembled at Ceuta, and Spain was invaded by one of the largest armies that had ever been marshalled on her soil. It is with interest that we read of the orderly but undisciplined progress of this great array. The tribes marched separately under their several sheiks. Each tribe carried its distinctive standard—the ensign of that which constituted the vanguard, the post of honor, was of blue and white silk spangled with golden crescents. In the centre of the host rode the monarch, surrounded by his negro guard, in whose equipment had been lavished all the wealth of barbaric magnificence. Before him was carried, as a talisman to insure success, the great Koran of Othman, which, having escaped the perils of many revolutions, had been sent to Morocco by the Almohades after their capture of Cordova. It was escorted by a company of a hundred Berber nobles, mounted upon superb Arabian horses whose velvet housings were embroidered with gold. This guard of honor carried lances inlaid with ivory and silver, from which fluttered pennons of many-colored silk. The casket in which was deposited the most priceless relic of Islam was the same which had been adorned by the emulous devotion and prodigality of many generations of Moslem princes. Its material of ebony and sandal-wood was entirely concealed by the multitude of jewels with which it was encrusted. The greater part of these were emeralds and rubies, and were kept in place by heavy settings of gold. They were arranged in arabesques, and in the centre of each design sparkled a magnificent ruby cut in horseshoe form. The casket was lined with green silk and cloth-of-gold, and a covering of the same material sowed with pearls and other precious stones concealed the treasure from the eyes of the multitude. Its weight, which was far from inconsiderable, was supported by a stately camel, whose burden was sheltered by a canopy on which were emblazoned in golden letters appropriate legends from the Koran. In the rear of the Sultan came the princes of the blood, the royal tributaries, and the grand officials of the empire. Seventy thousand infantry and thirty thousand cavalry composed the available force of the invaders, whose ranks were further augmented by at least a hundred thousand slaves and dependents. The army moved in four divisions, a day’s journey apart; at each halting-place provisions and forage had been collected, and the perfection of these arrangements, as well as the order maintained on the march, attested the military skill and executive ability of the Moslem general.

At Seville, designated as the rendezvous of the Spanish contingent, Yusuf was joined by several thousand Berber troops, who had served through many campaigns in the Peninsula. He then crossed the frontier of Portugal and besieged Santarem. This city, situated about fifty miles from Lisbon, was regarded as the bulwark of that capital. It was on the point of being taken, when Yusuf was surprised by an unexpected sally of the besiegers and mortally wounded. The Moslems, goaded to madness by this misfortune, drove back the attacking party, entered the gates with the fugitives, and ten thousand persons, massacred amidst the horrors of the unequal conflict, expiated the temporary and fatal success of a handful of their number. The death of the Sultan, which, to avoid political complications and civil war, was kept a secret, and did not become publicly known until his successor, Abu-Yakub-Ibn-Yusuf,—the ablest of his many sons, and who assumed the title of Al-Mansur-Billah,—a few weeks afterwards ascended the throne. The traits of Yusuf were those of a liberal, a just, a devout, a magnanimous ruler. He reduced taxation. He increased the imperial revenues. His inexorable severity was the terror of malefactors. Before his tribunals no suitor could complain of judicial oppression or venality. Under his administration, as under that of his father, the clergy were restricted to the performance of their religious duties, and were not permitted to usurp the functions or to absorb the revenues of the civil power. The cities were patrolled by a well-appointed and vigilant police, and law-abiding citizens were assured of protection. The banditti disappeared from the highways before the untiring pursuit of the authorities, who crucified every brigand as soon as he was captured. Never since the most flourishing days of the Ommeyade empire had the people of Moorish Spain enjoyed such security.

According to Moslem custom, Yakub signalized his ascent to the throne by acts of public charity and benevolence. He caused to be distributed as alms the sum of a hundred thousand pieces of gold. He increased the compensation of such officials as had honestly and faithfully administered the public service. The taxes of the poor were remitted, the tributes of the wealthy were reduced. The prisons were cleared of all offenders except such as were accused of capital crimes. Upon every magistrate was sedulously impressed the necessity for the strict yet merciful enforcement of the laws. The army was placed under better discipline, the pay of the soldiers was increased, and the sanitary conditions of the barracks and the camp improved. In both Spain and Africa new fortresses were erected at points peculiarly exposed to the incursions of an enemy. Great sums were expended in the improvement and the construction of highways, and the bridges were placed in perfect repair, that no obstacle might exist to the rapid movement of couriers or to easy military communication between the seat of government and the frontiers of the empire. At regular intervals along these thoroughfares, wells were dug and stations established for the shelter of travellers and the convenience of troops. The obligations of religion and the demands of knowledge were not neglected by this devout and generous ruler. Mosques, richly adorned, were built in every considerable town and city, and attached to them were institutions of learning, where gratuitous instruction was furnished to the poor but aspiring student. The sufferings of the afflicted were relieved by the establishment of hospitals, presided over by physicians and surgeons thoroughly versed in the medical science of the age. To such a degree had the traditions and example of the Western Khalifate awakened the noble emulation of the greatest prince who ever traced his origin to an African ancestor.

The commencement of the reign of Yakub, like those of his predecessors, was distracted by war and sedition. The remains of the Almoravide faction, established in the Balearic Isles, instigated by delusive representations the tribes of the Desert and the malcontents of the Peninsula to insurrection. Their efforts were, however, incapable of seriously endangering the power of Yakub. The leaders were arrested, and the adoption of the most energetic measures soon restored the public tranquillity. The repentant Berbers implored with success the royal clemency; and two of the brothers of the Sultan, involved in the common guilt, were sacrificed to the stern demands of justice and fraternal indignation.

At the head of a splendidly appointed army Yakub then passed into Spain. At his approach, all who had wavered in fidelity or had taken up arms hastened to solicit forgiveness and renew their obligations of fealty. The expedition, which was merely a reconnoissance, penetrated without difficulty as far as Lisbon. The degree of its success may be inferred from the fact that the booty is said to have exceeded in value any heretofore secured by any foreign invader in the Peninsula excepting Musa, and that the captives who followed in the train of the conqueror amounted to the respectable number of thirteen thousand.

The crusading spirit, then at its height in Europe, soon offered the King of Portugal an opportunity for retaliation. A large body of Flemish and English knights and men-at-arms, on their way to the Holy Land, disembarked at Lisbon to avoid, during the winter months, the inconveniences of a protracted voyage and the proverbial dangers of the Spanish coast. These adventurers accepted with avidity the tempting proposals of the Portuguese king. The Moorish territory was invaded by the crusaders, co-operating with a force of native troops; and the cities of Evora, Beja, and Silves became the prey of the most licentious soldiery in Europe. The latter place, which had surrendered under articles of capitulation to Sancho, King of Portugal, was, in violation of the laws of war and of every principle of justice, abandoned to the tender mercies of the foreigners. Out of a population of sixty thousand barely one-fifth escaped with life and liberty. The majority of these were Jews, whose commercial relations with the countries of Western Europe gave them influence with the Christian commanders, while the presence of numbers of their countrymen in the enemy’s camp contributed in no small degree to their security. This immunity was not obtained, however, without the payment of an exorbitant ransom; the city was pillaged amidst indescribable scenes of cruelty, and many of the crusaders, renouncing the pious cause in which they had embarked, remained in Silves as subjects of the King of Portugal.

Fortune did not suffer them long to retain the fruits of their bad faith and rapacity. Orders were issued from Morocco to retrieve the disgrace sustained by the Moslems, and Mohammed, governor of Cordova, having invaded the lost territory, stormed one after another the places which had tempted the avarice of the adventurous foreigners; the horrors of the previous capture were repeated and even surpassed, and the Christians in their turn experienced the bitterness of defeat and the calamities of servitude. Fourteen thousand male captives, chained together, were paraded through the streets of Cordova, and fifteen thousand women, distributed through the Moslem communities of Spain and Africa, attested the fearful retribution exacted by the lieutenant of the Sultan.

Three years after this event, Yakub, who in the midst of extensive projects for the amelioration of his people had never relinquished those plans of conquest which formed so important a feature in the policy of every active Moslem prince, prepared for a grand campaign against the Christians of Castile. The imperial forces, amounting to three hundred thousand men, were transported across the Strait without difficulty, and this mighty armament, for which the resources of the governors of Andalusia were greatly taxed to provide subsistence, began its march into the interior. Yakub, weary of unprofitable forays and of expeditions which inflicted no permanent injury upon the enemy, had resolved to attempt a most perilous and doubtful enterprise. The city of Toledo, whose geographical position, impregnable fortifications, and national prestige as the military centre of the Castilian monarchy made it the most important strategic point in the entire Peninsula, was the main object of his ambition. The political condition of the Christian kingdoms, whose princes, again influenced by mutual hatred, regarded with complacency the distress of their neighbors, was peculiarly favorable to the designs of the Moslems. Portugal and Leon were embroiled with the Holy See. Its interference with the royal prerogatives and its unsolicited participation in the religious disputes of those states were regarded with undisguised disapproval by a people which had never explicitly recognized the jurisdiction of the Supreme Pontiff. The jealousies of power and the hope of profiting by the discord of their rivals kept aloof from each other the kingdoms of Castile, Navarre, and Aragon. It was by the former of these, unaided and alone, that the shock of the impending tempest was to be sustained; while the other monarchies, removed from the seat of war, might await in temporary security the issue of the inevitable conflict. Alfonso VIII., who had aroused the ire and hastened the invasion of Yakub by a challenge couched in all the extravagant terms of Spanish rodomontade, now realized to the full the disastrous effects of his untimely insolence. In vain, in his extremity, he appealed to the piety, the patriotism, the martial spirit of the neighboring Christian princes. The King of Aragon returned no answer. Alarmed by the reports of the immense preparations of Yakub, the King of Navarre had not hesitated to open secret negotiations with him, with a view to preserving his possessions as a vassal of the Moslem. The sole auxiliaries who responded to the entreaties of Alfonso were a handful of French knights, with their retainers, from the districts of Provence and Gascony. With these, with the brethren of the military orders, and with his own forces, whose united number has not been mentioned in the chronicles, but which was greatly inferior to that of the Africans, Alfonso calmly awaited the approach of the enemy below the castle of Alarcos, not far from Calatrava.

At dawn, on one of the most memorable days in the annals of the Reconquest, the hostile armies prepared for battle. The arrangement of the Moslems indicated a degree of military ability scarcely to be expected from the rude tacticians of the age. The Almohades formed the left wing, the right was held by the Andalusians, in the centre were placed the picked troops of the empire, veterans of many campaigns. Behind the first line were ranged the African volunteers, armed principally with missile weapons, whose solid mass was intended to aid the foremost ranks in repelling the charge of the Christian cavalry. The manœuvres were immediately directed by the generals of the Sultan; for Yakub, at the head of his guards and a reserve of several thousand of his bravest troops, remained in ambush within easy access of the field, equally ready at a moment’s notice to retrieve disaster or to burst unexpectedly and with crushing force upon the disordered ranks of a terrified and flying enemy. The position of the Christians had been most advantageously chosen. The gently ascending slope of a mountain, with a steep acclivity at the rear, its sides defended by the deeply worn channels of mountain torrents, was occupied by their camp. With characteristic disregard of prudence the Castilians began the fray. Eight thousand knights in complete armor charged with terrific force the centre of the Moslem line of battle. Twice they recoiled before the solid mass of the enemy, but the third effort was successful; his line was pierced, his ranks were thrown into confusion, and the Christians, elated by a temporary advantage which they thoughtlessly magnified into victory, indulged to the utmost their savage instincts, infuriated as they were by the unexpected resistance they had encountered. But the field was not yet won. As they rushed forward in their bloody course, the impetuous cavaliers were insensibly surrounded by the active Mauritanian cavalry and the archers, who had been drawn up on the flanks of the African army; and, their retreat cut off, they were at once overwhelmed by numbers. In the mean time, the skill and coolness of the Moslem general, Al-Senani, who commanded the broken line, had enabled him to consolidate its wings, not as yet engaged, and, rallying the stragglers, he made a determined attack upon the enemy’s camp. Thus, in different parts of the field two battles were in progress, in which a portion of each army constituted the assailants. Of the knights who had so boldly hurled themselves against the Moslem host, but few escaped the spears and arrows of the Almohades. Despite the strength of the Christian position, it was taken by Al-Senani and his Andalusians, and the picked Castilian troops, unable to withstand the shock of the Moslem charge, were utterly routed. The heavy armor of the chivalry of Alfonso impeded their movements and delayed their flight; their senses were bewildered by the din and tumult of battle, and the fierce Mauritanian horsemen, strangers to pity in the hour of triumph, were deaf to the supplications of a defeated and helpless foe. The manifest exaggerations of the ancient chronicles render it impossible to form even an approximately correct estimate of the Christian loss. It must, however, have been enormous; but the proximity of the mountains, inaccessible to the Moorish cavalry, undoubtedly preserved numbers who would otherwise have perished. Twenty thousand prisoners taken in Alarcos, which fortress was stormed immediately after the battle, were liberated without exchange or ransom, an act of unusual generosity, which, while acquiring for Yakub the unfavorable criticism of his subjects, was considered an evidence of weakness by the ungrateful recipients of his favor, incapable of understanding such indulgence in wars ordinarily waged with indescribable barbarity.

The fruits of this great victory were limited to the possession of a few thousand captives and the plunder of the Castilian camp. At no time had the Christian territory been more vulnerable to the attack of an invader than after the battle of Alarcos. The power of Castile was temporarily destroyed. Navarre, intimidated by the approach of the Moslems, was now ready for the oath of fealty and the humiliating rendition of tribute. Leon was also suspected of entertaining secret negotiations with Yakub, whose influence had not improbably contributed to the inimical relations generally existing between the Christian states of Northern Spain. Aragon, deprived of its sovereign and arrayed against its neighbors, was a prey to political intrigue as well as exposed to the danger of foreign conquest. Portugal alone, protected in a measure by her remoteness from the seat of war, resolutely upheld by her uncompromising attitude the sinking fortunes of the Christian arms.

Many causes conspired to render the campaigns of the Moslems indecisive. Their armies, composed of many nations and commanded by numerous generals, were incapable of thorough organization and discipline. The powers of high officials claiming equal authority, undefined by law and unconfirmed by precedent, were subject to constant and vexatious interference. Prolonged operations were viewed with disfavor by soldiers accustomed to the independent movements and rapidly shifting scenes of partisan warfare. A victory was, to the morale of such a force, almost as detrimental as a defeat. The ordinarily powerful incentives to conquest—the propagation of the Faith, the hope of martial renown, the prospect of territorial acquisition—were forgotten in the desire to enjoy without delay the fruits of activity and courage. Wholesale desertions were the inevitable consequences of success. Military expeditions in the Peninsula were not, since it had become a dependency of Africa, carried on with the systematic regularity which aimed at permanent occupancy. Towns were usually pillaged and burnt. The country was desolated, the population enslaved. But it was rare that a garrison was placed in a captured city, and new fortresses were no longer erected to guard the security of the frontier. The frontier, indeed, had become the uncertain boundary of a debatable land, a region which the constant incursions of enemies had transformed into a waste, whose limits, ever shifting, were yet steadily encroaching on the Moslem domain. The fortunes of a mere province, however valuable and extensive it might be, could excite but a languid and transitory interest amidst the plots and revolutions of a distant and turbulent capital. After a foray into Castile directed by Christian refugees and renegades with real or fictitious grievances to avenge, the Moslems retired from the campaign, and the opportunity afforded by the battle of Alarcos was irretrievably lost. The next spring was passed in unprofitable excursions into Castile and Estremadura. Calatrava and Guadalajara were taken, and Salamanca was stormed and burnt to the ground after having submitted to the utmost excesses of a barbarian enemy. The absence of organized resistance, the general consternation which prevailed in every Christian community, the craven behavior of great princes, who solicited with abject humility the protection of the Almohade Sultan; the extraordinary facility with which one fortress after another was occupied by the Moslems, indicate the universal demoralization consequent upon the rout of Alarcos. A campaign conducted with energy and determination must have resulted in the complete overthrow of the Christian monarchies of the North. But Yakub, destitute of the most eminent qualifications of a commander, wasted his time and consumed the strength of his soldiers in predatory enterprises which yielded neither military distinction nor political advantage, while his enemies expected in constant terror the appearance of the squadrons which had annihilated the knights of the monastic orders, the pride of Christian Spain, and had trampled under foot the Castilian chivalry, already illustrious for endurance and prowess among the famous warriors of Europe. An attempt, indeed, was made upon Toledo, the original object of the invasion, behind whose walls the fugitives of Alarcos had taken refuge; but the old Visigothic capital, which had issued victorious from a hundred sieges, was not to be hastily reduced by an enemy ignorant as yet of the destructive force of gunpowder. A few days demonstrated the futility of an attack where the deficiencies of military engineering could not be compensated by superiority in numbers, and the King of Castile was fortunate enough to negotiate a truce with the Sultan, now alarmed by reports of sedition in his own dominions. The return of the latter preceded only a short time his sudden and unexpected death. He was a prince who, of all the descendants of African dynasties, was most worthy of the honors of imperial greatness, and it was not without propriety that he assumed the title of Al-Mansur, The Victorious. Under his reign his countrymen probably attained to the highest degree of civilization and intellectual development of which their race is capable. Experience had repeatedly proven that the innate savagery of the Berber was incorrigible. The benefits of education, habitual association with the learned and the polite, familiarity with the finest literary productions of preceding ages, the daily presence of architectural monuments of unrivalled splendor, were unable to efface the barbarous instincts inherited through unnumbered generations of roving banditti. Like the Arab, a freebooter by birth and inclination, the Berber abandoned with reluctance and resumed with delight the unsettled and precarious existence of his forefathers. No political affinity existed between the various divisions of the African race. Of such components an enduring empire could not be constructed. When temporarily united, they were held together solely by the unnatural and artificial influences of force and fear; the principles of mutual co-operation, of national pride, of devoted loyalty, which constitute at once the security and the glory of a nation, were absent. The first three princes of the Almohade line were pre-eminently conspicuous for their talents, their firmness, their political sagacity. Their reigns, while characterized by more or less severity, the consequence of peculiar political conditions, were neither oppressive nor unjust. No restrictions were laid on commerce. The burdens of taxation were lightened and illegal impositions abolished. Many internal improvements were planned and perfected. The administration of justice was purified and corrupt magistrates punished. The religious sentiment, dominant in the minds of an ignorant people, was gratified by the erection of sumptuous temples. The prosecution of extensive military operations, the enslavement of entire tribes, the sack of opulent cities, the achievement of sweeping victories, the extermination of armies, were calculated to secure the attachment and confirm the allegiance of a people passionately devoted to the stirring excitements of war. But so capricious and disloyal was the African, that neither the enjoyment of present favor nor the expectation of future benefit could insure his fidelity. He was wholly careless of the advantages of civilization. His superstition made him the facile dupe of every impostor. The Almohade sovereigns lived in constant apprehension of dethronement. If they left Africa for Spain, the desert tribes were certain to rebel. As soon as they had recrossed the Strait, Andalusia rose in arms. The death of an ignorant charlatan, who in a short time had restricted the empire of Abd-al-Mumen to two cities, alone saved that monarch and his dynasty from destruction. The annals of his son and grandson are a bloody chronicle of insurrections, massacres, executions. The Berber element, while abhorred by the Arabs, had yet so permeated the society of the Peninsula that every department of government, every rank and profession of men, had been infected with its poison. Under such conditions political regeneration was impossible. No reformer, no conqueror, could avert the final catastrophe,—a catastrophe inevitable in the decadence of nations,—subjection to a foreign enemy actuated by religious fanaticism, military ambition, and inflexibility of purpose. The victory of Alarcos was the closing triumph of Islam in the Peninsula, and with the reign of Yakub disappeared the last opportunity for the restoration of Moslem power.

It is not, however, by his conquests, the extent of his dominions, or the splendor of his court that Yakub-al-Mansur is best known to us. The Giralda, or minaret, which towered over the mosque of Seville, and now, for the most part intact, is the principal ornament of its cathedral, is the greatest monument to his fame. The stately temple to which it was attached, founded by Yusuf, and almost a quarter of a century in building, was at last finished by his son. The spoils of many a foray, the wealth of many a conquered city, the plunder of many a Christian sanctuary, were devoted to its construction. Gold and silver obtained from the sacramental vessels of violated altars glittered upon its walls. Its masonry had been laid by the painful labor of hundreds of captives. Its foundations stand upon a base composed of busts, statues, bas-reliefs, and carvings taken from the Roman structures abounding in the vicinity, and many of which represented the finest efforts of classic taste and imperial magnificence. To strict observers of Moslem law,—and none adhered more closely to the letter of its provisions than the Almohades,—every representation of the human form was classed as idolatrous, and the effigies of the emperors, statesmen, and orators of antiquity were buried far beneath the walls of the Giralda, that the eyes of the Faithful might no longer be offended by what were ignorantly presumed to be objects of Pagan adoration; and that the spiritual as well as the material supremacy of Islam might be symbolized by the erection over these infidel memorials of the most imposing and beautiful edifice of its kind that has ever been devised by the genius of man.

Its base is a square of fifty feet; its original height was three hundred. For eighty-seven feet from the foundation the walls are of stone blocks fitted with the greatest nicety, and once polished to the smoothness of glass. The superstructure is of brick, and almost covered with graceful arabesque patterns in terra-cotta. Each side is divided into six panels with the designs in bas-relief, the panels resting upon ogival arches sustained by marble columns sunk into the masonry. In the central panels are a series of ajimezes, or Moorish windows, whose compartments are separated by miniature columns of alabaster. A charming variety and elegance exist in their arrangement and decoration; the openings are symmetrical but unequally disposed, and the terra-cotta patterns, while they exhibit a general similarity, are unlike in detail, no two faces of the tower exactly resembling each other. The minaret as originally designed was crowned with battlements, and was surmounted by another tower eight cubits in height, of similar plan but of much more elaborate ornamentation. Above the latter structure rose a bar sustaining four bronze balls of different sizes, placed one above the other. The general color of the building was a brilliant red, due to the bricks of which it was principally composed. Within this bright setting the sunken arabesques glowed with all the splendor of the richest damask. The interstitial portions of the designs were painted with scarlet, azure, green, and purple, the parts in relief were gilded. The maze of gold and color was at once tempered and defined by the duller framing and by the white, translucent, alabaster columns of the central panels. Around the summit of the principal tower was a mosaic of intricate pattern and many colors. The beauty of the gorgeous tints that under the sunlight of Southern Spain exhibited the refulgence of the rainbow was heightened by the use of tiles covered with gold leaf, whose enamelled covering imparted a brilliancy not even exceeded by the burnished metal itself. Upon the superstructure had been lavished all the exquisite taste and skill of the Moorish and the Byzantine artisan. Its sides presented a complicated and elegant mosaic of white, blue, and gold. Its parapet blazed with that precious metal, and above ascended, in regular gradation, the row of immense gilded globes, visible to the approaching or to the departing caravan for the space of more than a day’s journey. The largest of these was nearly twenty feet in diameter; the surfaces of all were deeply grooved, the better to reflect the light; and the iron bar which sustained them, and which was also plated with gold, weighed nearly a thousand pounds.

The interior of the famous minaret presents some extraordinary, not to say unique, architectural features. Its walls are nine feet in thickness at the base, and, instead of decreasing in dimensions, become still more solid as they rise, until the capacity of the structure near the summit is but little more than half what it is at the bottom. The ascent is made by thirty-five ramps, or inclined planes, resting upon vaults and arches, and supported by a shaft of masonry built in the centre of the tower.

It was to the architects of Constantinople that the Moors were indebted for this excellent substitute for the stairway, by which the loftiest buildings could be ascended with comparatively slight fatigue. Byzantine influence, which has left such an impress upon the architecture of Venice, has provided its towers with this ingenious device, of which the Campanile offers a familiar example. Instances of its employment also exist in many cities of Africa, some of whose mosques, constructed by the Almohades, present, upon a greatly reduced scale, minarets in form and decoration almost counterparts of the Giralda as it was in the day of its original splendor. It is not uninteresting to note that the architect who superintended the completion of the Giralda was Abu-Layth, a Sicilian, whose country, long a province of Constantinople, had never, even under Moslem domination, completely abandoned the traditions or renounced the influence of the Christian capital of the East.

Mohammed-Ibn-Yakub, whose hereditary title had been confirmed by the exercise of regal authority during the lifetime of his father, succeeded to the perilous honors of the Almohade throne. A prince of amiable character but mediocre talents, without ambition and destitute of self-reliance, his accession augured ill for the maintenance of order among a score of jealous nations, which all the genius of great statesmen and warriors had hardly sufficed to restrain within the bounds of loyalty and discipline. The death of Yakub was the signal for revolt to the turbulent spirits who inhabited the mountains of Fez, and their defection was immediately followed by a formidable insurrection in the Balearic Isles. There, where Almoravide influence was nourished by descendants of that family,—who, expelled from the main-land, had for a time enjoyed in that sequestered region a nominal independence,—the standard of rebellion was raised by Yahya, an active partisan, who traced his descent from the last Almoravide emperor, Yusuf-Ibn-Tashfin. The sedition of the mountain tribes was easily suppressed, but that of the Balearic Isles was far more serious, and demanded the adoption of the most stringent measures. The name of the Almoravides had by no means lost its potency in Africa. Among the inhabitants of the coast and the denizens of the Sahara, the exploits of the dynasty that had first consolidated the vagrant tribes of that continent into the semblance of a nation, had brought to their knowledge the benefits of letters and the arts, and had, by its conquests, raised them to the height of military glory, were still remembered. The sympathies of the people of the Balearic Isles were almost unanimously with the representatives of their ancient masters. Before such an event could be anticipated, an army landed on the coast of Africa. The Berbers, allured by novelty and by the prospect of license, began to show signs of discontent. The political agitation enveloped the northern portion of the Desert, and the following of the intrepid Yahya was increased by the enrolment of many warlike tribes. One element, however, and a most important one, was lacking to insure success. The enterprise of the Almoravides was a purely political one. In every revolution which had previously aroused the enthusiasm and enlisted the support of the Africans, religion was the alleged incentive and the most prominent feature. A certain degree of mystery, a plausible exhibition of imposture, were indispensable to the excitement and the control of the credulous and fanatical wanderers of the Sahara. No movement could prosper in that benighted region unless presided over by the sombre genius of superstition.

The first operations of Yahya were highly successful. Several fortresses along the coast opened their gates to the invader. The city of Almahadia was carried by storm. Kairoan, once the seat of the Fatimite khalifs, and still the centre of an extensive trade between the Desert and the Mediterranean, was threatened. The discernment of Mohammed convinced him that the occupation of this ancient capital would impart a dangerous impetus to the rebel cause, a contingency which must, at all hazards, be prevented. The young prince acted with extraordinary decision. The forces of Yahya were beaten. Some fortresses were retaken, others voluntarily submitted. The insurgent leader, hotly pursued by the enemy, was unable to re-embark, and was driven to implore the hospitality of his Berber allies in the heart of the Desert. A great force besieged Almahadia, which was bravely defended by the Almoravide governor, Al-Hadshi. But the courage and determination of the garrison could not prevail against the science of the Sicilian and Spanish engineers who served in the army of the Sultan. The walls were undermined. The towers were crushed by immense projectiles of iron and stone hurled against them from engines of novel construction and prodigious size. To avert the calamities of an assault, the city was surrendered. With a generosity without precedent in the annals of mediæval warfare, a general amnesty was proclaimed. The garrison was persuaded to enlist under the banners of the conqueror, and Mohammed, charmed with the gallantry of Al-Hadshi, received him into his confidence and conferred upon him an important command in his army.

The Balearic Isles, captured in 1115 by Raymond Berenger III., Count of Barcelona, and afterwards occupied by the surviving leaders of the Almoravide party, now for the first time in their history experienced the effects of Berber invasion. Majorca was devastated by the Mauritanian cavalry, its cities were burnt, and its population enslaved. Minorca and Ivica, profiting by this example, hastened to solicit the clemency of their sovereign, and the heads of the Almoravide chieftains, carefully embalmed with camphor and enclosed in an elegant casket, were sent to Morocco as conclusive evidence that nothing more was to be feared from a crushed and disorganized faction.

The propitious beginning of a reign fated to end in ruin and disgrace encouraged the youthful Sultan to undertake enterprises of far greater importance. The truce unwisely conceded by Yakub to the entreaties of the King of Castile had not yet expired. But the deliberate violation of a treaty contracted with an infidel was considered an offence scarcely worthy of absolution by the Christian casuists of that age. Present expediency alone regulated the observation of public engagements. The prince, who, to his own disadvantage, honorably fulfilled the terms of a contract with a Moslem, would have been rewarded with the derision of his subjects and the anathemas of the clergy. Long anterior to the time of Mendoza and Ximenes, who made the broadest application of that infamous principle, its adoption had been approved by both the civil and ecclesiastical powers of Christian Spain, and faith was kept with an unbeliever or a heretic only so long as it suited the convenience of the other contracting party.

The death of Yakub had in a measure revived the spirits of the disheartened Christians. Alfonso had succeeded with much difficulty in collecting the scattered fragments of his defeated army. The military orders, which had left their bravest members on the field of Alarcos, began to fill the vacancies in their decimated ranks. In the larger cities the impatient youth again longed for the excitements and the plunder of the foray. Importuned by the solicitations of his subjects, and fortified by the opinions and assurances of the clergy, Alfonso violated the truce and descended unexpectedly upon the plains of Baeza and Jaen. His success encouraged the organization of other expeditions, and the bloody scenes of former years were re-enacted, until no portion of Andalusia was secure from the ravages of the enterprising Christian partisan. The subjection of the Almoravide rebels had inspired Mohammed with a thirst for conquest, and with a desire to punish the perfidy and the boldness of an adversary who, but a few years before, had in abject and humiliating terms sued for peace. The proclamation of the Holy War was issued. The Berber chieftains and their followers responded with enthusiasm. With all the naval facilities of the empire at their command, nearly two months were required by the immense body of troops—more than three hundred thousand in number—for transportation across the Strait; and, assembled at Seville, their tents and bivouacs dotted the landscape for leagues around that city.

It was with the greatest consternation that tidings of the impending invasion were received by the Christians. From the presence of the African had dated not only the political misfortunes of the Peninsula, but the most serious disasters ever experienced by the Spanish arms. Thrice already in its history the landing of a Mussulman host had been the precursor of a national catastrophe. Sixteen years had passed since the fatal day of Alarcos, but the memory of that appalling defeat was still fresh in the memory of almost every family in Castile; and so destructive and wide-spread had been its effects that the resources of that kingdom, which had sustained the brunt of the attack, had never been completely restored. In the present emergency the Holy See was appealed to; the war against the Moslems was invested with the character and privileges of a crusade, and the anathemas of the Church were denounced against all who should impede the movements or assist the enemies of the King of Castile, now the champion of Christendom. Emissaries furnished with the letters of the Supreme Pontiff went forth from the Vatican to rouse the flagging religious spirit of Europe. While the entire country north of the Tagus was in a state of terror, and few preparations had been made for resistance, the army of the Sultan, organized in five grand divisions, broke camp at Seville. Remembering the issue of similar undertakings, the Christian population were stricken with the apathy of despair. Everything was favorable to the plans of Mohammed, and had he improved his opportunity the Moslem domination might have been re-established throughout the Peninsula. In the path of the invading force rose the castle of Salvatierra, a fortress of such insignificance that even its ruins cannot now be identified; but the conceit of the Sultan was so great that he was unwilling to leave behind him a single Christian stronghold, and the siege of an obscure frontier outpost, on whose endurance, however, now depended the destinies of Spain, was formed. In the indulgence of this foolish whim eight precious months passed away, while the severities of the season and the pangs of famine fast depleted the ranks of the Moorish army. The capture of Salvatierra was finally accomplished, at the greatest cost probably ever incurred in the conquest of a place of so little importance, and the Moslems retired to their quarters in Andalusia. Encouraged by this unexpected check of the enemy, the Christians, while realizing that the danger was only postponed, began to exhibit unwonted activity. Amidst the snows of winter, the warriors of Spain, about to make an expiring and desperate effort for the defence of their homes and the salvation of their country; crusading fanatics, animated by the fury of religious zeal, and representing almost every nationality of Europe; ferocious soldiers of fortune, whose swords still dripped with the blood of the Albigensian heretics; eminent prelates, who discharged with equal dexterity the duties of the confessional and the office of command, assembled at Toledo, once the civil and ecclesiastical centre of the Visigothic power, now the capital of a growing monarchy predestined for many coming centuries to abject subserviency to the See of Rome.

The influence of the Papacy, no less than the imminent peril of the state, had successfully appealed to the religious instincts and national honor of every Christian potentate in the Peninsula. Many of these came in person, followed by the nobles and ecclesiastical dignitaries of their dominions. In this strange array, which could so easily reconcile the din of battle with the peaceful services of the altar and the pilgrimage, and which substituted without hesitation for the monotonous intonations of the mass the martial notes of the trumpet, were numbered the principal officials of the Church, headed by the celebrated Roderick, Primate of the Kingdoms of Spain. The grand-masters of all the military orders, including those of the Hospitallers and the Templars, who with a considerable following had come from distant countries to share in the honor and the glory of a new crusade, formed no unimportant accession to the ranks of the Christian army. Every organization in the land—civil, political, military, and religious—had despatched its representatives to the appointed rendezvous, full of patriotic confidence, yet with a thorough realization of the fatal consequences to their liberties and their faith which must inevitably result from another great Moslem victory obtained over a people which had already well-nigh lost its recuperative power. A remarkable concourse was that whose various dialects and often discordant accents were heard in the streets, and whose daily increasing numbers, exceeding the capacity of the old Visigothic capital to contain, were distributed through the pastures and gardens of its environs. An abundance of provisions supplied by the timely foresight of Alfonso kept the motley host content, but want of occupation soon developed the prevalent vices of the camp. Quarrels, provoked by the claims of different nationalities to superiority, were not unusual, and the narrow thoroughfares of the ordinarily sedate and tranquil city became nightly the scene of brawls and disorder. Among the crusaders were many who had served in Palestine and were accustomed to unrestrained indulgence in every variety of crime. To these adventurers, whose religious fervor was largely stimulated by avarice, the wealth of the numerous and thriving Hebrew population of Toledo was a prize too valuable to be overlooked. The prejudices of the age were favorable to persecution, and the Jew, especially if prosperous, was to the ignorant zealot the worst of infidels. A plan was formed for the massacre of the entire Jewish colony; and it required all the influence of the clergy and all the authority of Alfonso to prevent the destruction of a large portion of his most industrious and useful subjects in the very heart of his capital.

Finally, in June, 1212, the crusading army prepared for the active operations of a campaign. In its order of arrangement, the advance guard was composed of the foreigners, the centre was allotted to the Aragonese, and the rear was closed by the soldiers of the remaining states and kingdoms, who had most at stake and on whose efforts the issue of a battle must principally depend.

The crusaders had advanced but a few days’ march beyond Toledo, when signs of insubordination began to appear among the French and Italians. There is probably not in all Europe a region so inhospitable and so desolate during any season as the plateaus of Central Spain. No tree rises to relieve the dull monotony of the landscape. In winter the plain is swept by icy blasts from the sierras. In summer the exhausted traveller is prostrated by the fierce rays of an almost tropical sun. That country even now, for scores of leagues in every direction, presents the aspect of a desert; and in the thirteenth century, marking the boundary between two nations involved in continuous hostility, was yet more dreary and uninhabited than it is to-day. To the old crusader it recalled only too forcibly the hardships and the perils of the Holy Land, privations long since gladly exchanged for a life of luxury and license in the service of generous and indulgent European princes. The prelate sighed for the cloister, reluctantly abandoned for the camp at the command of the Holy Father, and longed to return to the scenes of wassail,—to the gay hunting parties in the forest; to the festive board, with its convivial and unclerical guests, its appetizing dishes, and sparkling wines; to the embraces of those beautiful companions who, chosen for their rare fascinations, whiled away, behind the walls of palace and monastery, the leisure of the epicurean bishop with Oriental dances and with the lively notes of lute and castanet. To men who had been induced to take up the cross by glowing descriptions of the Moorish cities of Andalusia, the experiences of a march through La Mancha were a grievous disappointment. So universal and serious was the discouragement among the foreigners, that the indignant remonstrances of the King and the prelates were scarcely sufficient to prevent their desertion in a body. At length, after a few insignificant frontier castles had been stormed and little booty obtained, the Italians and French, instigated by the ecclesiastics, abandoned their allies and marched homeward. Their freebooting instincts were disclosed by an ineffectual attempt to surprise Toledo, whose wealth they had never ceased to covet; but the inhabitants refused them admission to the city, and they were compelled to return to their homes empty handed, covered with infamy and objects of derision and contempt to the devout of every Christian nation of Europe.

The passes of the Sierra Morena had been already occupied by the Moors when the Christian army approached that range of mountains which forms the northern boundary of the province of Andalusia. A shepherd, whom superstition has exalted into a saint, and whose familiarity with the depths of the Sierra is still represented as miraculous, was found, who guided the army through secret paths by the outposts of the enemy. On the lofty plains of Tolosa the two armies met to decide the fate of the Peninsula. The Moslems had slightly the advantage of situation and decidedly the superiority in numbers. In the centre of the Moorish camp, on a gentle elevation, was pitched the scarlet, silken tent of the Sultan, which, with its gold embroidery and fluttering pennons, was the most conspicuous object in the field. This position was protected by the baggage-wagons, which, united by a ponderous iron chain, encircled its base. In front of the hill, and defended by a ditch, was drawn up the Moslem infantry, whose want of steadiness and defective discipline the ingenuity of their officers had attempted to correct by the dangerous expedient of fastening the ranks together with ropes. The mailed soldiers were placed in the centre, and the swift and irregular Mauritanians on the flanks of the foremost line. A guard of black slaves covered the summit of the hill where sat the monarch, clad in a black and threadbare robe, revered as the sacred garment worn by the founder of his sect, with the Moslem symbols of conquest, the Koran and the scimetar, beside him. The Moorish order of battle did not differ greatly from that of Alarcos, and the experience of that day no doubt determined the adoption of an arrangement which had once been crowned with such brilliant success. Apparently the circumstances were more propitious to the invaders than those of the former contest. Their numbers were greater than those of the army of Yakub, the forces of the enemy probably nearly the same as before. Their position was much stronger and defended with more military skill. The sovereign was present to encourage the efforts and animate the zeal of his innumerable soldiery. The memory of two great victories—one so recent as to be still fresh in the minds of many in both armies, and each of which had imparted such glory to the Moslem cause—incited the soldiers of Mohammed to emulate the heroic exploits of Zallaca and Alarcos.

On the other hand, it was with feelings of sullen desperation that the Christians armed themselves at midnight for the decisive conflict of the morrow. They were not oblivious of the national and religious interests dependent on their constancy and their valor. Their allies, on whose support they had reckoned, had perfidiously deserted them. Their resources were exhausted. Unjustly, as the event demonstrated, yet not without foundation, suspicions of the fidelity of some in their ranks whose dispositions had once been hostile, and who had privately negotiated with the enemy, were entertained. The disastrous results of former contests, the present disadvantages of inferior numbers and position, even the most fervent exhortations of ecclesiastical zeal, were inadequate to remove or counteract. By the weird light of fires and torches the sacrament was administered to the Christian warriors, admonished by the activity of their enemies, whose sounds of preparation could be faintly heard from their distant camp. The officers received their final orders, and the troops were disposed in the array of battle. The right wing was commanded by Sancho, King of Navarre; the centre by Alfonso; the left wing by Pedro, King of Aragon.

The attack was begun by the Castilians, who with headstrong impetuosity rushed forward to storm the enemy’s intrenchments. They were received, however, with a courage worthy of their own, and their formation was shaken by the solidity of the Moslem ranks. Both armies soon became engaged; the Spanish mountaineers, inexperienced in warfare and sickened by the frightful carnage, took to flight; and the nobility were left, with momentarily diminishing numbers, to contend with the myriads of barbarians who threatened to overwhelm them. It was then that Alfonso, with his guards, plunging into the serried masses of the enemy, retrieved the failing fortunes of the day. The supplications and the threats of divine vengeance uttered by the ecclesiastics, who, attired in their sacred vestments and holding aloft the crucifix, intercepted the retreat of the mountaineers, caused them to rejoin their devoted comrades, whose valor awakened their admiration while it magnified their cowardice. The battle now raged with fury along the entire line. The Berbers, without reflection on the consequences, exposed their half-naked bodies to the swords of the Christian knights, whose armor received without impression the strokes of the missile weapons of the Desert. The slaughter of these wretched fanatics was appalling; but the places of those who fell were instantly supplied by others, who sought at the hands of the infidel the martyr’s death, which is a certain passport to the Moslem paradise. In the very crisis of the struggle, while victory was hanging in the balance, the day was lost by a flagrant act of treachery. The hajib of Mohammed, Saad-Ibn-Djiami, who exercised despotic influence over the feeble spirit of that monarch, had alienated the Andalusians by tyranny. The governors of the frontier castles taken by the crusaders had been treated with the greatest indignity by that official, and one, whose intrepidity had exacted even the admiration of an unfeeling foe, he had caused to be put to death by torture. The remonstrances of the Arabs of Andalusia were received with insult; they were declared inferior in rank and courage to the Almohades, and the hajib publicly announced that they would hereafter be assigned to the least honorable position on the march and in the face of danger. The double imputation of plebeian extraction and cowardice, a reproach as false as it was unwise, was deeply resented by the Andalusians, many of whose families traced their lineage beyond the era of the Prophet; their courage had been tested for centuries in the wars of the Peninsula, and it was they who had stormed the Christian camp at Alarcos and contributed far more than the Africans to the completeness of that splendid victory. Exasperated by the unjust treatment of the hajib, and not without reason apprehensive of the power such a tyrant would enjoy if successful, they resolved to sacrifice country, religion, independence, and honor to the vindication of their offended national dignity. At a signal from their commander they marched away from the field. The sudden withdrawal of a body of sixty thousand men produced a panic; the Moslem lines were shattered, and the terrified fugitives, entangled in the ropes to which the infantry had been attached, were thrown into hopeless confusion, and remained at the mercy of the Castilian cavalry. The efforts of the Christians were now directed towards the summit of the eminence crowned with the scarlet pavilion of the Sultan. For a brief period the squadrons of the Almohades held their ground, but the weight of the armored horsemen eventually proved too great for the lighter Africans; Sancho, at the head of the Navarrese, broke the chain which encircled the Moslem entrenchment, and the victory of Las Navas de Tolosa, forever afterwards famed in song and story, was lost and won. Mohammed, who, with the apathy of a fatalist, from his commanding position had viewed the rout of his army, fled with only four thousand followers. The butchery which ensued exceeded belief, and the most conservative estimate of the killed was a hundred thousand. Orders had been issued, in accordance with the merciless barbarity of the time, that whoever, for any cause, spared the life of a Moslem should himself be punished with death; and the naturally cruel instincts of the Spanish soldiery, exasperated by the remembrance of past reverses and by the losses resulting from a desperate resistance, scarcely required the incentive of fear to suppress the sentiments of humanity. From dawn to twilight the conflict had continued, four hours of that time being consumed in the pursuit and massacre. In the bloody field, surrounded by the evidences of their valor, the Christians were assembled, and a Te Deum was chanted by the prelates, who returned thanks to God for their unexpected deliverance. The greater part of the spoil was abandoned to his princely associates by Alfonso, whose pride was content with the glory of success; and well it might be, for Castile, hitherto an insignificant principality, was now destined to the enjoyment of more than imperial authority. The value of the horses and camels, magnificent robes, costly weapons, and gold and silver utensils was inestimable. For two days the Christian fires were lighted with the arrows and lances of the enemy, and even then the supply was far from exhausted. A portion of the massive chain which encircled the Sultan’s tent was carried to Pampeluna, where, as a votive offering, it is still suspended before the high altar of the Cathedral; and its emblem, “or, on a field gules,” was long conspicuous in the blazonry of the royal escutcheons of Spain, France, and Navarre.

CHAPTER XIX
THE PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN ARMS
1212–1252

General Disorder in the Peninsula—Aggressive Policy of the Christians—Capture of Ubeda—Al-Mamun—Rise of Mohammed-Ibn-Hud—Merida taken by the King of Leon—Prosperity of Barcelona—Jaime I. of Aragon—Siege of Majorca—Terrible Sack of that City—Extinction of the Almohades—Siege and Capture of Cordova by Ferdinand—Valencia surrenders to the King of Aragon—Character of the Struggle between Christian and Moslem—Xativa—Its Prosperity—Murcia becomes the Property of Castile—Xativa acquired by Aragon—Death and Character of Jaime—Rise of the Kingdom of Granada—Its Wealth and Literary Culture—Ferdinand captures Jaen—-Mohammed-Ibn-Ahmar, King of Granada, renders Homage to Ferdinand—Seville invested by the Castilians—Great Strength of that City—Its Obstinate Defence—It is reduced by Famine—Character of Ferdinand the Saint.

The weakness of a sovereign and the arrogance of a tyrannical minister, provoking the defection of the Andalusian commanders, had decided the fate of the Saracen empire in Spain. Other disasters, apparently as serious, had been retrieved by the able emirs, generals, and statesmen who from time to time controlled the policy of that empire in the Peninsula. Other successes, not less brilliant, had been neutralized by the indecision, the incompetency, the national prejudices, or the personal rivalry of the conquerors. The battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, however, was one of the most decisive of the great struggles in which the Christian and the Moslem powers of the West contended for imperial supremacy. An interval of five centuries—a period signalized by almost incessant hostility—separates it from the field of the Guadalete. During that time a great monarchy had arisen, had reached the summit of military renown, literary excellence, and scientific culture, and had fallen, dragging with it the imposing fabric of civilization erected at such cost and under such favorable auspices as to encourage the hope that through the influence of its beneficent institutions and from the glorious example of its success might be effected the thorough and permanent regeneration of Europe. The khalifate had been succeeded by an era of anarchy, persecution, ruin. The fairest provinces of the Peninsula had been repeatedly abandoned to the savage hordes of the Sahara and to the equally ferocious warriors of the North. More than once, in the pursuit of their common prey, these fierce invaders, dissimilar in all the physical characteristics which distinguish the different races of humanity, yet strangely alike in the mental instincts peculiar to the unlettered and superstitious barbarian, who respects no influence but that of superior force, and despises every profession but that of arms, had encountered each other on fields of terrific battle. Amidst the confusion engendered by perpetual conflict, the individuality of the region which once was the centre of the Ommeyade empire was lost. Its provinces, sufficiently extensive and opulent to be ranked as kingdoms, were subdivided into scores of insignificant principalities. The imperial metropolis,—the centre of Faith, the destination of the pilgrim, the home of art and poetry, the emporium of commerce,—stripped of her honors and her wealth, was degraded to the position of a provincial city. Every district had its sovereign, every town its court, every castle its lord. National unity, so difficult to establish and preserve among a people whose traditions were based upon tribal prejudice and individual independence, now became utterly impossible. With each influx of foreigners came fresh cause for discord. The energies of the innumerable rulers, who, through superior address or more propitious fortune, had obtained the government of the Peninsula, instead of being directed to their mutual preservation were utilized for each other’s discomfiture. Alliances were formed with the infidel. Important fortresses were unhesitatingly surrendered to secure his favor. His garrisons were introduced into strongholds in the very heart of the Moslem territory. The Koran and the crucifix were carried side by side in campaigns against loyal and orthodox sectaries of Mohammed. In spite of the danger of familiarizing the Christian enemy with the position and strength of their defences, in spite of the well-known duplicity of that enemy in dealing with adversaries of another creed, a policy utterly subversive of national autonomy was encouraged. The fatal passions of the Desert, dormant for many centuries, revived with tenfold vigor. The relentless spirit of vengeance dominated every other feeling. A chieftain whose dominions embraced but a few square miles, whose castle was perched upon some isolated peak, and whose army numbered a few hundred banditti, cared not so much for the plunder by which he lived as for the destruction of his neighbor. The powerful emir, who governed great cities and aspired to the most grandiloquent titles of royalty, indulged without restraint his hereditary instincts of national, sectional, or tribal hatred. In vain wise statesmen, whose sagacity predicted the impending downfall of the Moslem power, represented the necessity for organization against the common foe. With sorrow those in whom the feelings of public spirit and pious zeal were not extinguished saw principality after principality enriched with the spoils of Moorish cities and, sustained by the aid of Moorish tribute, exalted to the rank of Christian kingdoms. With an apathy peculiar to those blinded by prejudice, the more bigoted partisans viewed the foundation and growth of a new state which, after many vicissitudes and reverses, having fixed its capital at the mouth of the Tagus, soon equalled in influence and wealth the more ancient kingdoms of Leon, Castile, and Aragon. Instead of there being one direction from which to expect the enemy, he now descended on every side. The Moslem territory was completely surrounded. The limits of that territory were annually contracting. The great naval powers of Italy dominated the Mediterranean. They were intimately connected with the Christian sovereignties of Spain; their aid had been conspicuously instrumental in effecting the capture of Almeria; their fleets were at the disposal of the Holy See, from which now issued bull after bull summoning the Faithful to new crusades in the Peninsula. Principally through this impulse, the armies of the Spanish princes were largely recruited from the most brutal and degraded populations in the world. Of these, returned adventurers from Palestine and outlawed bandits from England, France, and Italy formed no inconsiderable proportion. Such was the totally unprincipled character of these allies, that they did not hesitate, when opportunity offered, to plunder those in whose service they had voluntarily enlisted. Under such circumstances, the ferocity of the conflict, already sufficiently violent, was intensified. The use of torture became more frequent. The massacre of prisoners on the eve of a retreat became a popular method of disposing of such encumbrances to flight. Familiarity with scenes of horror, continued through many generations, has left an indelible impress on the character and demeanor of the Spaniard, whose name was long a synonym for cruelty.

The want of mutual co-operation among the Christian states prolonged for more than a century the Moslem domination in the south of Spain. The Emirate of Saragossa, distracted by intestine quarrels, was the first northern principality to succumb to the encroachments of its warlike neighbors. Then followed the opening of the Ebro to the sea, the conquest of the Algarves, or Portugal, the further extension of the frontier of Castile. Repeated forays obliterated the vegetation of vast districts which had once exhibited the marvellous results of Moorish industry. The massacre or deportation of large communities destroyed in an hour what it had required centuries to create,—a numerous and thrifty population. The Arabs, whose genius had developed the civilization of the Khalifate of Cordova, had been exterminated by civil war or absorbed by the barbarian multitudes which swelled to enormous numbers the annual tide of African immigration. As has already been many times remarked, the principles of the Moslem polity were naturally and necessarily antagonistic to permanent political union. So long as similar conditions prevailed among the Christians, the fabric of Moorish power, however shaken, was apparently secure. But as soon as factions which divided the population of the various kingdoms were reconciled, as soon as those kingdoms, instead of being arrayed against each other, presented an unbroken front to the common enemy, the decayed edifice of Moslem grandeur crumbled into dust. The victory of Las Navas was the starting-point of a new era. From it dates the real power of the Spanish monarchy, whose states, not yet united, but governed by valiant and energetic princes, now first began to exhibit indications of that portentous influence destined subsequently to overshadow the continents of America and Europe. A great advance was made by the kingdom of Castile after the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa. It at once assumed a higher rank in the society of nations. New lustre was imparted to its name. Increased prestige became the portion of its sovereign. Alfonso sent to Rome the tent, the lance, and the standard of the Sultan,—trophies, considering that they typified the destruction of Moslem power in the West, of great and far-reaching significance. The glory of the achievement was purely national. It was shared by no foreigners. The allies, from whom so much had been expected, had basely retired in the face of the enemy, and the contest had been decided by Spanish skill and Spanish valor. Henceforth the policy of the Christians was aggressive; their forces, consolidated and fighting under the same banners, were no longer dissipated in domestic feuds or wasted in the fruitless conflicts of rival interests. The importance of the victory is demonstrated by the fact that it was the first decisive step in the triumphal march which conducted the Christian arms from the banks of the Tagus to the walls of Granada.

After a halt of three days, the victorious army proceeded southward. Baños and Tolosa fell into its hands. At its approach the people of Baeza evacuated that city in terror. The mosque was occupied by wounded fugitives from the battle-field of Las Navas, who had resorted to its precincts as to a sanctuary, hoping that the cruelty of their pursuers would respect the sacred character of the edifice where they had sought an asylum. Their expectation was vain. The mosque, with its helpless inmates, was at once set on fire and consumed. Then the Christians besieged Ubeda. This city was one of the most flourishing and populous in Northern Andalusia. Refugees from Baeza had increased the number of its inhabitants to nearly a hundred thousand. Its defences were strong, its garrison was brave, but Italian engineers in the service of Castile mined its walls and opened a practicable breach. Apprehensive of the consequences of an assault, the Moors endeavored to negotiate for safety. In exchange for the unmolested possession of their homes and the practice of their religion, they offered a million maravedis of gold. These terms were agreed to by the Christian princes, whose power, nominally paramount, was in fact subordinated to the authority of the clergy, already accustomed to dictate the policy of courts and the movements of armies. The dignitaries of the Church in a body protested against such indulgence to infidels. Their pious remonstrances prevailed, and the treaty, which had already received the assent of both parties, was revoked. Another was then framed by which the Moslems were allowed to peaceably evacuate the city, with the privilege of retaining their personal effects. The ransom which they themselves had suggested was required as a preliminary security, and the delay in its payment afforded a plausible excuse for the exercise of violence. The cupidity of the prelates and the soldiers was aroused by the sight of the accumulated wealth of a thriving community now in their grasp, and the signal was secretly given for outrage and massacre. In the frightful scenes that followed, sixty thousand of the inhabitants of Ubeda perished under the most aggravating circumstances of lust and cruelty; the remainder were condemned to servitude; the portable wealth was appropriated by the conquerors, and the place itself was utterly destroyed. The occupation of the city by the Saracens dated from the invasion of Tarik. From that time it had never been besieged by a Christian foe. It contained a large number of Jews, whose property, amassed by generations of traffic and extortion, made a welcome addition to the spoils of war. Its great extent was an alleged reason for its destruction, for the King of Castile is said to have stated as the motive of such vandalism, “We should never have had people enough to inhabit it.” Such were the deeds sanctioned by the clergy and perpetrated under the direction of royal champions of the Faith, by whose instrumentality the Christian religion was re-established in the Peninsula.

The capture of Ubeda closed a campaign which, so gloriously begun, might, if vigorously pursued, have driven the disorganized and terror-stricken Moslems into the sea. But to the Christian soldiery the only valuable advantage to be obtained from any victory was a temporary release from the restraints of discipline. The orgies which accompanied the taking of Ubeda greatly impaired the effectiveness and diminished the numbers of the invading army. Debauchery and disease soon avenged the misfortunes of the Moslems. Thousands, chafing at the confinement of the camp and anxious to enjoy the fruits of their prowess, openly deserted. The pious enthusiasm of the King of Castile was abated by the discouraging circumstances of his situation; his scruples were removed by the casuistry of prelates whose zeal had been cooled by the lion’s share of the booty, and the crusade which had recently threatened with conquest the whole of Andalusia was postponed to a more convenient and propitious opportunity.

The Sultan Mohammed quitted with the utmost celerity the country which had been the scene of his humiliation and defeat. After appointing his son, Yusuf-Abu-Yakub, to the succession, he retired to the seclusion of his palace, where with the solace of wine and beauty he endeavored unsuccessfully to forget the failure of his aspirations and the destruction of that army whose numbers had not inaptly been compared to the sands of the Desert for multitude. His end is said to have been hastened by poison administered by the officials of the court, who saw, with disgust and apprehension, a reign begun with every prospect of success and glory unprofitably and ignominiously prolonged in the midst of personal degradation and national misfortune.

The military operations of the ensuing year were checked by a disastrous famine which, through a total failure of the harvests, afflicted the kingdom of Castile. The characteristic improvidence of a people unaccustomed to anticipate or counteract the effects of such a contingency aggravated the public distress. The highways, the fields, the banks of streams were strewn with moaning and emaciated wretches helpless from privation and exposure. Contrary to the rule which ordinarily obtains during similar visitations, the mortality in the country greatly exceeded that of the towns. Vast numbers of cattle died in pastures denuded of vegetation by the drought, unclean animals were sought with avidity by the famishing, and the revolting resource of cannibalism was adopted by those in whose breasts the last feelings of humanity had been eradicated by intense and prolonged suffering. The immunity afforded the Moslems by this calamity was confirmed by renewed quarrels between the monarchs of Leon and Castile. The projects of the latter which looked to the deliverance of Spain from the Saracen yoke were destined to disappointment, for a fever, the result of inhaling an atmosphere polluted with the exhalations from thousands of decaying bodies, ended the career of the victor of Las Nevas in the fifty-ninth year of his age.

With the death of an imbecile sovereign and the accession of an infant, new and even more intolerable evils beset the unhappy Moslems of Andalusia. The provinces of the South were partitioned among the kinsmen of the successor of Mohammed, who habitually violated, in his name, every principle of honor and rectitude. The most responsible official positions were made objects of purchase. Corruption such as had never been previously known, even under the most unscrupulous of rulers, flourished in every department of the government. The four uncles of Yusuf-Abu-Yakub, who had appropriated his Peninsular inheritance, regarded the country that fortune had placed in their power as their legitimate prey. The wealthy, fortified by bribes, openly defied the execution of the laws. The poor, placed at the mercy of the inexorable tax-gatherer, were reduced to starvation. Such was the arrogance of these usurpers that they acknowledged no responsibility to any superior, and the authority of the Sultan was practically ignored in this portion of his dominions. The people, exasperated by such treatment and without hope of redress, were ready to welcome any change as a benefit, and the projects of the Christians received in the sequel no small encouragement and support from the despairing victims of Moslem tyranny. Long before the King of Castile occupied the cities of Andalusia, the way had been paved for their conquest by generations of misgovernment and oppression. After ten years passed amidst the sloth and enervating pleasures of the seraglio, Yusuf-Abu-Yakub died, without having, in reality, exercised control over his extensive empire for even a single day; nor had he, since his accession, ever issued from the gates of his capital. Abd-al-Melik, one of his numerous uncles, whose life had been passed as a dervish, and whose previous experience hardly fitted him for the arduous and practical duties of royalty, was raised by the combined voice of the nobles and the populace to the throne of the Almohades.

In Spain, the Moorish princes of the same family that had heretofore administered the affairs of the Peninsula, without regard to the claims of the court of Morocco, openly asserted their independence. The Emir of Murcia, Abu-Mohammed, by reason of age and superior talents, obtained an acknowledged ascendency over his brethren. His diligence and liberality secured many active partisans in the capital of the empire; his ambition to supplant a weak and inexperienced monarch unable to sustain the weight of a crown was approved by the populations of both Andalusia and Al-Maghreb, and the pious Abd-al-Melik returned without reluctance to the practice of a life of devotion and solitude, after having relinquished the sceptre to his able and fortunate kinsman.

It is beyond the province of this work to minutely describe the interminable intrigues, quarrels, and petty revolutions which preceded the extinction of the Mussulman power in the South of Spain. The governors of the different provinces exhausted, as usual, the resources of their subjects by constant and destructive hostility. Such as were successful were certain to be eventually overwhelmed by their recent adversaries, who invoked the ready aid of infidel allies. No permanent advantage was secured excepting by the Christians, whose cause was materially advanced by the universal prevalence of Moslem discord. Castilian troops continued to visit with devastation the fertile plains of Andalusia. Every alliance with the invaders was concluded at the expense of the Moors, who were compelled to accede without alternative to the exorbitant demands, by whose acceptance alone they could hope to retain their power. Fortresses which commanded vital points on the frontier and the passes and highways into Andalusia were surrendered as the price of military assistance in the settlement of some insignificant dispute. Among those who had thus secured the precarious and expensive friendship of the Christians was Abu-Ali-Edris, surnamed Al-Mamun, Emir of Seville. By the co-operation of Ferdinand III., King of Castile, he had dispersed an army of Africans sent to reduce him to subjection. The Castilians, not accustomed to observe the faith of treaties longer than it coincided with their immediate interest, persisted in gratifying their rapacity by destructive incursions on Moslem soil. Ferdinand, whose reputation as a saint has been somewhat tarnished by his perfidy as a sovereign and his cruelty as a soldier, directed in person these raids against his allies. His adventurous spirit carried him to the very borders of the Vega of Granada. The frontier strongholds of Priego, Loja, and Alhama fell into his hands. After menacing the capital, he laid siege to Jaen. Consideration of the character of the forces engaged in the attack and defence of this city discloses the peculiarity of this double warfare. In the army of Ferdinand was a large body of Moorish troops, of which the Emir of Baeza furnished not less than three thousand horse and twenty thousand foot. The besieged were assisted by a detachment of Christians whose nationality is not mentioned, but who were probably Spanish soldiers of fortune or Italian and French mercenaries.

The enterprise was unsuccessful; the assaults of the besiegers were vigorously repelled, and Al-Mamun, having collected an army, relieved the city and routed the Christians in a pitched battle; and the expedition heralded with such extravagant boasts and begun under the most auspicious circumstances terminated in defeat and ignominy. The spoils of conquest were relinquished, the captured fortresses were speedily retaken, and the booty abandoned in the camp before Jaen more than recompensed the soldiers of Al-Mamun for the dangers and exposure of a short and glorious campaign.

That prince was now at liberty to pursue unmolested his schemes of ambition. The incapacity of the Almohades had left the empire without a master and the capital without defence. In the absence of the sovereign, public affairs were administered by the two councils organized by the Mahdi, an institution which, through all the vicissitudes attending the development and decline of the Almohade power, had remained unchanged. With a rapidity that anticipated the swiftest courier, Al-Mamun, at the head of a strong force of cavalry, hastened to Morocco. The councillors and the sheiks who had questioned his authority and disputed his title were peremptorily summoned before him. In vain they protested their innocence. In vain they confronted the spies who had reported their treasonable and insulting speeches to the tyrant. With their families and their friends, who atoned for their relationship and attachment with a similar fate, they passed to immediate execution. Their slaves and retainers shared the fate of their unfortunate lords; and neither the weakness of youth nor the attractions of beauty availed to secure immunity from the bloody and indiscriminate sacrifice. A row of five thousand gory heads was ranged along the walls of the capital, and the sight and odor of these significant emblems of despotic cruelty effectually checked all disposition to revolt. With an insolent disregard of religious prejudice and political tact which it is difficult to comprehend, Al-Mamun denounced the name and memory of the Mahdi as that of an unscrupulous and cunning impostor. The form of government he had instituted had been already abolished by the murder of the Councillors of State. The name of the false prophet was omitted from the prayer in the mosques. His title was erased from the inscriptions of the coinage. All magistrates were prohibited from alluding to him in their decisions. These measures, adopted in defiance of public sentiment, were not conducive to the permanence of usurpation. The memory of the Mahdi was still revered by the illiterate and fanatical masses of Africa. In all ages sacrilege has been the most dangerous offence of which a monarch could be guilty; and after these impolitic exhibitions of jealousy nothing but the ferocious character of their sovereign deterred the exasperated Berbers from rebellion.

While Al-Mamun was strengthening his empire in Africa, his influence was rapidly declining in Spain. A new antagonist, well worthy to assert, in an age of national decadence, the rights of an outraged people, had arisen as the representative of Andalusian liberty. Mohammed-Ibn-Hud, who concealed under the mask of patriotism an ambition which aimed at despotic power, stood forth as the champion of the oppressed. His extraction was noble,—he was a lineal descendant of the famous dynasty of Saragossa; but no royal ancestry was required to dignify a character eminent for military genius, political sagacity, and the exercise of every princely virtue. Influential chieftains at once ranged themselves around him. His increasing power enabled him to seize and retain the Emirate of Murcia. His cause was promoted by the assurance that all taxes imposed by Almohade tyranny would be abolished, and that the Africans would be either expelled or exterminated. These pledges were speedily fulfilled. An overwhelming proportion of the inhabitants of Moorish Spain supported the claims of the alleged representative of freedom. The doctrines introduced by the Mahdi were declared schismatical, and his disciples branded as public enemies. The mosques in which their rites had been celebrated for more than a century were cleansed and rededicated with the same solicitude and ceremony as would have been displayed in the purification of Pagan temples. Those of the hostile faction who had made themselves offensively conspicuous were promptly executed; the less obnoxious were exiled. White, the official color of the followers of the Mahdi, was superseded by black, the distinguishing badge of the Abbasides; for Ibn-Hud had already publicly announced his allegiance to the khalifs of Bagdad. The revolution soon spread to the confines of the Moslem territory. The Arabs and the Andalusians avenged the accumulated evils of generations by the butchery of every African who fell into their hands. The emirs of Granada and Valencia were expelled by the exasperated populace. Al-Mamun, having undertaken to suppress the rebellion, sustained a decisive defeat at Tarifa, and the prestige of Ibn-Hud, increased by this fortunate event, now became greater than ever.

But a severe reverse was in store for this adventurer, who, elated by his success, was blinded by illusory visions of imperial splendor. Alfonso IX. of Leon, after a blockade of many months, took the city of Merida. This place, the metropolis of Lusitania in the days of the Roman Empire, was the largest and strongest of the cities of Western Spain. Its geographical position, in a measure, commanded the frontier, and its proximity to the valley of the Guadalquivir rendered its hostile occupation a constant and dangerous menace to the peace of Andalusia. No one recognized these facts more readily than Ibn-Hud, and, having for the time suspended his operations against the Sultan of Morocco, he advanced without misgivings to encounter the Christian enemy. The latter formed but a handful when compared with the Moslems, but they did not shrink from the conflict; and we are edified by the statement of the pious chronicler that St. Jago, with an innumerable host of angels, fought on the side of the champions of Christ. The Moors were defeated with great loss, and the entire province of Estremadura was, in consequence, annexed to the domain of Leon. The sovereign of that kingdom died soon afterwards, while returning from a pilgrimage to the shrine of Santiago; the credit of the Saint was greatly enhanced by this signal victory; and his apparition, mounted upon a white horse and wielding a flaming sword, was henceforth visible to the eyes of all true believers in every important engagement which resulted favorably to the Christian cause.

While in the West the policy and valor of the Kings of Castile and Leon were gradually undermining the already shattered fabric of Moslem government, in the East the prowess of another Christian hero had begun to make serious encroachments upon the fertile and populous region extending along the Mediterranean from the Alpujarras to the borders of Catalonia. The acquisition of the latter province by the crown of Aragon at once raised that kingdom to a prominent rank among the sovereignties of Western Europe. From a comparatively unknown inland power it was at once brought into intimate contact with the principal commercial emporiums of the civilized world. The city of Barcelona, as has already been mentioned in these pages, attained at an early date a high and deserved celebrity as a centre of enterprise and industry. Its maritime facilities equalled those of any European port. In the thrift and activity of its inhabitants it was superior to all others, unless, perhaps, Venice or Genoa. Its ships and cargoes were eagerly welcomed by every trading nation. Long accustomed to a condition of independence, it had developed a naval power which scarcely yielded in number and equipment to the forces of its celebrated neighbors,—the republics of Italy. It presented the sole exception among all the Moslem communities which had submitted to the Christian arms, in that this occupancy had not produced stagnation and decay. Under the rule of its counts, its progress, instead of being retarded as in other instances, seemed to acquire a new and greater impetus. The population increased in an unusual, even a phenomenal, ratio, and soon it became one of the most opulent, one of the most polished, of cities. Its merchants were the first in Europe to perfect a system of banking and exchange. The source of Barcelona’s extraordinary commercial vitality—to which also must be attributed the energy and acuteness which distinguished its citizens—was the large Hebrew population. Numerous and intellectual under the Moors, as soon as Catalonia attained to the dignity of a virtually independent state, the Jews, save alone in the domain of religious belief, became predominant in influence. They controlled the treasury. In all but name they administered the government. Their institutions of learning instilled, without remonstrance, the most heterodox opinions into the minds of the Christian youth. Their native practitioners were, since the decline of the University of Cordova, the most learned medical men of the age. The unreasonable prejudice attaching to the nationality and the faith of the Barcelona surgeon did not prevent his employment by the most bigoted princes of Christendom. The presence of such an accomplished, shrewd, and highly educated people could not fail to react on those with whom they were associated in daily intercourse. As a consequence, Barcelona had acquired, and indisputably merited, the reputation of being one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and cultivated communities of mediæval times. With all its advantages, there was still one serious drawback to its prosperity. The Balearic Isles, lying a hundred and fifty miles from the main-land,—which, from some inexplicable cause, have always enjoyed a consideration out of all proportion to their political or maritime importance,—were still in possession of the Moslems. They constituted a dependency of the Emirate of Valencia, having been sold by the Genoese to that principality, after having remained for a considerable period under the jurisdiction of the Counts of Barcelona. The governor, Mohammed-Ibn-Ali, who belonged to the Almohade faction, had provoked the enmity of the Catalonians by repeated acts of piracy, which were the more inexcusable as he was in no condition to defend by arms the consequences of his imprudence.

Jaime I., King of Aragon, who had planned the conquest of these islands, was now about to enter upon that career which eventually raised him to such an eminent rank among the most celebrated princes of the thirteenth century. Reared amidst exciting scenes of conquest, from childhood he seemed inspired with the martial spirit of the crusader. In the military and chivalrous exercises which formed an indispensable part of the education of every aristocratic youth, he had no superiors. Such was the formidable antagonist with whom the Moslems of Eastern Spain were now to contend for the prize of empire.

As soon as the project of Jaime had been broached to the Cortes, it was received with the acclamations of every class in his dominions. The city of Barcelona equipped the larger portion of the fleet. Among those who thus enthusiastically welcomed hostilities against the Moslem, none evinced a more energetic and liberal disposition than the clergy. The church militant was represented by many distinguished prelates, practised almost from infancy in the art of war. The Archbishop of Tarragona gave a thousand pieces of gold and a hundred loads of wheat, and, completely sheathed in steel, entered the crusaders’ camp at the head of eleven hundred well-armed men. Others responded with equal alacrity. The nobles vied in zeal and prodigality with the dignitaries of the Church. The military orders, whose duty and inclination made such an enterprise the most pious and agreeable of diversions, from far and near sought the standard of Jaime. A number of French and Genoese vessels, whose crews were more eager for Moorish spoil than for the triumph of the Cross, joined the forces of Aragon; and in the autumn of 1229 a flotilla of nearly two hundred ships set sail from the harbor of Salou for the island of Majorca.

Warned of the object of the expedition, the Moors had made extensive preparations for the reception of their enemies. A landing was effected with difficulty at Palomera, and the Christians, constantly harassed by the active mountaineers, were compelled to fight their way to the capital, then known by the name of the island, but familiar to the ancients as Palma, by which appellation it has also been designated since the seventeenth century. Heretofore comparatively free from the attacks of a besieging army, the fortifications of that city were ill-adapted to withstand the effects of the formidable appliances of war. The machines constructed by the Italian engineers at Majorca were among the most ponderous and destructive ever used in Europe. The strongest towers crumbled under the weight and impetus of the immense balls of stone projected against them. The walls were mined in several places. As soon as a breach was opened the Christians rushed to the attack, only to be repulsed by the determined courage of the besieged. In their defence the latter displayed a knowledge of war not inferior to that of their adversaries. The ramparts were equipped with engines that cast showers of missiles into the Christian camp. The destruction caused during the day by projectiles from the enemy’s catapults was repaired at night. The demolished walls were rebuilt with a celerity that awakened the amazement of the enemy. Obstinate and sanguinary encounters took place in the depths of the earth, where the mines, conducted under the walls, were intersected by countermines dug by the besieged. The latter, greatly annoyed by the stones from the tremendous engines, resorted to the strange and inhuman expedient of fastening their prisoners to crosses and raising them upon the battlements, in the hope of checking the fire of the Christians. These victims of Moorish cruelty, however, exhorted their companions not to slacken their efforts; and we are gravely informed by monkish annalists, whose faith was evidently in an inverse ratio to their veracity, that by the miraculous interposition of Heaven these candidates for martyrdom escaped without injury. At all events, the device was a failure, and, after an exposure of several hours, the captives were returned to their dungeons, and the operations of the besiegers continued with renewed and increasing energy. An attempt was next made to cut off the supply of water by diverting the course of a stream which ran through the Christian camp. But the vigilance of the Aragonese sentinels thwarted this plan at its inception. A detachment of Moslems, while engaged in the work, was surprised and put to the sword, and the head of its commander, hurled over the walls from a catapult, proclaimed to the dismayed and astonished garrison the failure of the expedition and the fate of their comrades. The spirit of the Moslems, heretofore apparently indomitable, now began to evince signs of discouragement. Nor was the plight of the Christians much better in comparison. For seven weeks the siege had continued. It was the rainy season; their camp drenched by daily storms became a quagmire, and their efforts were seriously impeded by the unfavorable conditions of their situation and the inclemency of an autumn memorable for an incessant tempest. Despite these drawbacks and the stubborn resistance of the Moors, the constancy of the besiegers remained unshaken. The admirable arrangements of Jaime had secured the establishment of an abundant commissariat. Uninterrupted communication with Barcelona gave encouraging assurance of supplies and reinforcements. The skill of the Jewish surgeons, who served on the medical staff of the Christian army, prevented the outbreak of an epidemic in the camp,—an event more to be dreaded than the weapons or the strategy of a crafty and courageous enemy. Disheartened by their reverses and doubtful of their ability to resist much longer the determined assaults of the invaders, the Moors attempted to negotiate. They agreed to defray all the expenses incurred by the campaign if the King would withdraw his forces and conclude a truce. When this proposal was rejected, they declared their willingness to surrender the capital if transportation to Africa were furnished such as desired to depart and security were guaranteed to all who chose to remain. Jaime again refused to consider a suggestion evidently dictated by a consciousness of declining strength. The pathetic significance of an indisposition to entertain favorable terms of submission was unmistakable by those familiar with the shocking enormities of mediæval warfare. It was now apparent that the city was destined to pillage. The hardships of the siege induced by the intrepidity of a people in defence of their homes were to be expiated by the awful scenes exhibited by a place taken by storm. Many of the citizens were refugees from the conquered provinces of the Peninsula; had witnessed or participated in the sack of cities, and well understood the dreadful fate that was in store for them. Nerved by the consciousness of their desperate situation, they redoubled their efforts to repel the enemy, whose engines had almost ruined a large part of the fortifications, which in several places already offered vulnerable points of attack. The besiegers began to suffer from exposure, and the King, fearful that the enthusiasm of his troops might abate if a decided advantage was not soon obtained, ordered a general assault. On the last day of the year, before dawn, the Christian camp was under arms. With all the impressive solemnities of the Catholic ritual mass was said, the sacrament was administered, and the soldiers were earnestly exhorted to fight bravely for the Faith. Before an altar erected for that purpose, the King and the nobles, drawing their swords, swore to enter the city or perish. The combined influence of cupidity and fanaticism was too strong to be successfully withstood; the assailants poured into the breach, and their weight and impetuosity overwhelmed the garrison, driving it back into the city. The conflict raged with unremitting fury in the winding streets. The women on the housetops cast down missiles of every description upon the heads of the struggling Christians. From the minaret of every mosque came the stentorian voice of the muezzin, encouraging the Moslems to renewed action and invoking the curse of Allah upon the infidel. The narrow thoroughfares and the houses solidly constructed of stone retarded the progress of the assailants. The Moors fought with desperation for their homes and their liberty; but animated by the example of their sovereign and urged on by the presence and the appeals of the ecclesiastics, who, like their antagonists, the faquis and the muezzins, took a prominent part in the battle, the Aragonese ultimately prevailed. Fifty thousand persons perished; thirty thousand were sold as slaves, and a great number found a temporary asylum in the mountains among the hospitable and sympathetic peasantry.

As the capital was the centre of a flourishing maritime trade, had been enriched with the spoils of innumerable piratical excursions, and had become the residence of many wealthy refugees from Africa, the victors obtained a magnificent booty. So great was it, indeed, that the horrors of pillage continued without cessation for eight consecutive days. Their avarice satiated, the first duty imposed upon the Christians was the purification of the city. The immense number of dead bodies, putrefying under a tropical sun, made this an unwelcome and onerous task; but the labors of the workmen were cheered and accelerated by the pious assurance of the clergy that a thousand days of pardon would be accorded them for the head of every misbeliever. The streets were cleared of the repulsive encumbrances which offended the senses and impeded traffic; the corpses of the victims of war and brutality were consumed by fire outside the walls; and the soldiers proceeded to indemnify themselves for past privations by indulgence in every kind of debauchery.

Their excesses produced a contagious and fatal distemper, whose ravages, baffling the skill of the best physicians, completed the havoc of the sword, and the army became so reduced in numbers and efficiency that operations were suspended until reinforcements could be obtained. Fourteen months in all were required for the subjugation of the island. The native population was enslaved, and the fruits of conquest were equitably apportioned among the victors. The conquered territory, especially exempted from the burden of taxation, became the property of those by whose valor it had been acquired; and Majorca passed forever from the jurisdiction of the Successors of Mohammed. Its favorable situation and delightful climate attracted many colonists from the kingdoms of Southern Europe, and before many years the losses in population it had sustained by war were repaired; the preponderance of Moorish characteristics gradually disappeared; and a quarter of a century had not elapsed before Majorca, in ignorance and orthodoxy, could challenge competition with the most bigoted state in Christendom. The island was erected into a fief of the crown, and twelve years after its occupation Minorca and Ivica, profiting by the example of their more powerful neighbor, yielded, after a show of resistance, to the fame and influence of the King of Aragon. The conquest of the Balearic Isles, preceding that of Valencia—of which, indeed, it was the necessary prelude, when their dangerous proximity to the African coast is considered,—was the first and one of the most brilliant of the many exploits which reflected renown upon the career of Jaime el Conquistador.

The Almohade monarchy, following the example of almost every government established under the Moslem polity, was now rapidly hastening to its end. Its territory had been dismembered. Its prestige, founded upon a successful career in arms, had vanished. The polygamous families of the Sultans of Africa furnished, at the decease of every monarch, a formidable number of pretenders to the vacant throne. In Morocco a crowd of hostile claimants, many of whom were not allied to the descendants of Abd-al-Mumen, and whose only titles to sovereignty were military genius and personal popularity, contended with indifferent and varying success for the possession of imperial power. Independent emirates arose at Mequinez and Tlemcen. Al-Maghreb was distracted with sedition, massacre, civil war. The contagion of strife infected every class of the hot-blooded population of Northern Africa. An opportunity for rapine, so congenial to the tastes of the Bedouin and the Berber, was not long neglected by the predatory tribes of the Desert, and the Sahara was again made the scene of organized brigandage and guerilla warfare. The fragments of the great empire founded by the Mahdi were no longer capable of reunion. Their cohesive power, dependent on superstitious awe, individual merit, and popular admiration, was destroyed; the fatal conflicts which for years exhausted the energies of antagonistic factions had extirpated every vestige of national ambition and religious zeal; the noble sentiment of patriotism, always weak in the breast of a barbarian, even when accustomed to civilized life, was now completely subordinated to private enmity; universal discord rendered effective resistance to an enemy impossible; and the last of the Almohades, Edris-Abu-Dibus, perished, a century and a half after the advent of the Mahdi, in a skirmish with the troops of an obscure adventurer.

Conditions similar to those prevailing in Africa occupied the attention and destroyed the efficiency of the Mussulmans of Spain. With every year, with the inauguration of each successive potentate of magnificent pretensions and insignificant following, factional hatred was intensified. The Christians, by cession, by purchase, by conquest, were rapidly acquiring the territory once embraced by the khalifate of Cordova, which had been the prize of Moslem valor and the seat of Moslem faith. The authority of the representative of the Almohades was confined to a narrow district which scarcely extended beyond the environs of Seville. The enemies of Islam pressed daily upon the shrunken confines of the rich and extensive domain conquered by the soldiers of Tarik and Musa, made illustrious by three centuries of military success and intellectual progress under the Ommeyades, and degraded by the African sultans to humiliating dependence on a barbarian monarchy. In the West, the rich provinces of Lusitania and the Algarves had been absorbed by Portugal. In the East, the steady progress of the King of Aragon portended the approaching extinction of the Mussulman power. The principality of Guadix had assumed the dignity of a kingdom under the first prince of the Alhamares, a dynasty eventually destined to revive the departed glories of Cordova in the new metropolis of Granada. That entire region of the Peninsula which was still subject to Moslem rule was distracted by the implacable feuds of aspirants to the disrupted empire of the Almohades. The impracticability of again uniting the discordant constituents of that empire was not understood, or even considered. The rival contestants sacrificed every consideration of patriotic and religious duty to the gratification of their revenge or the furtherance of their ambition. Their subjects beheld with apprehension and disgust the purchase of Christian aid against their brethren by the payment of extravagant subsidies and the surrender of the bulwarks of the frontier. They saw the resources wasted which, if properly employed, might have redeemed from infidel occupation vast tracts of territory whose fertility had once been the pride of the industrious people of Andalusia. They saw their own arms turned upon their neighbors, when the combined efforts of both would have sufficed, if not to successfully resist, at least to check the progress of the common foe. Three princes indiscriminately arrayed against each other occupied an unenviable prominence in this suicidal conflict. In the West, Yahya, the former Almohade sovereign, held Seville. In the East, his nephew Mohammed-al-Ahmar and the celebrated partisan Mohammed-Ibn-Hud contended for the possession of the provinces of Murcia and Granada. The latter, in the ignoble desire to satiate his vengeance, had secured from the Castilians temporary immunity from molestation by the daily payment of a thousand pieces of gold. This ignominious contract was at length rescinded on account of the remonstrances and threats of the Andalusians, whose fields were ravaged in security by Christian marauders, while Moslem partisans were cutting each others’ throats under the walls of Murcia. Ibn-Hud, after a campaign which terminated with little glory and still less honor for either party, succeeded in compelling the Christians to retreat,—a step which they anticipated by the slaughter of their captives. Repeated raids into the southern provinces were gradually but surely preparing the way for Christian supremacy. Relying upon the additional prestige acquired by his recent advantage over the Castilians, Ibn-Hud negotiated a treaty with Ferdinand, which stipulated for a cessation of hostilities for four years. The results of this negotiation indicate the slight regard for the most sacred agreements entertained by a prince whose services to the Church have procured for him the questionable honor of canonization. No engagement could have been assumed under more solemn circumstances. The treaty was ratified by the signatures, by the oaths, by the pledges of regularly authorized representatives of the contracting parties. An enormous sum of gold was paid by the Moslem as a preliminary consideration. But priestly casuistry and royal ambition had little respect in times of universal ignorance for the maintenance of national honor or the observance of public faith. The prelates whispered in the ear of the King that it was an established principle of the ecclesiastical polity that no contract was binding which was entered into with an enemy of Christ. The suggestion was in thorough accordance with the views of Ferdinand, accustomed, moreover, to implicit obedience to the directions of his spiritual counsellors. A rare and tempting opportunity was offered to violate the agreement entered into with the Saracens, for which the price had already been received. The attention of the latter—who fancied themselves secure from foreign hostility—had been diverted from their hereditary foe, and was now concentrated on each other. Civil war was raging on the borders of Granada, where Mohammed-Ibn-Hud and Mohammed-al-Ahmar were engaged in a desperate struggle for the possession of Eastern Andalusia. In consequence of this, as well as of the presumed inviolability of the treaty, the entire valley of the Guadalquivir had been stripped of troops. The open country was practically defenceless. The garrisons of the great cities were insufficient to resist a siege. Exhausted by a long series of inroads, the peasants were beginning to again cultivate their farms and rebuild their desolate homes. No one suspected that the storm was about to break forth more furiously than ever. Repeated examples of Christian perfidiousness had been insufficient to teach the Moslems to what depths ecclesiastical infamy, in the prosecution of schemes of worldly advantage, was ready to descend.

Some Moorish prisoners, whom the commander of a small detachment of freebooters was about to send to execution as the most convenient way of disposing of them, promised, in return for their lives, to place the eastern suburb of Cordova, which virtually commanded the city, in the hands of the Christians. The proposal was too alluring to be declined; the risk of failure was not considered; and, in an age characterized by the most foolhardy and romantic exploits, the greater the danger the more fascinating it appeared to the audacious spirits who lived upon the excitements of border warfare. During a stormy night in the month of January, 1236, the assailing party, numbering but a few hundred, advanced in silence to scale the walls of one of the largest Moslem cities of the. Peninsula, which, although greatly diminished in population since the era of the khalifate, still contained more than a hundred thousand inhabitants. A few agile soldiers succeeded in reaching the ramparts; the guard was surprised and despatched, and the gate was at once thrown open to their comrades. The suburb thus entered by the Christians was one of the five principal quarters or wards into which the metropolis of Moorish Spain had been originally divided. Completely isolated from the remainder of the capital by a line of fortifications, it gave an enemy far greater facilities for defence than the mere penetration into a walled town of ordinary character would have afforded. The first intimation of their misfortune was communicated to the citizens at daybreak by the tumult which accompanied the inauguration of pillage and murder. Taken completely by surprise and hemmed in on every side, there was no possibility of effectual resistance and but little hope of escape. The garrison issued from the citadel, but were unable to dislodge the Christians, who, inured by long practice to similar encounters, and favored by the tortuous streets and by the towers occupied by the cross-bowmen, easily held their ground against overwhelming odds. But notwithstanding their temporary success, their situation was desperate. It was hardly possible that so small a force would be able to maintain itself in the centre of a hostile community until reinforcements could arrive. Yet such was the undaunted resolve of the assailants, who, now besieged in turn, were subjected to the harassing effects of unremitting conflict. Messengers requesting aid had been early sent to Alvar Perez, the commandant of the frontier, and to King Ferdinand at Leon. The knights of Calatrava and Alcantara responded with eagerness to the call to arms, and with these and a considerable body of militia, to whom were confided the patrol and defence of the border, the Castilian general hastened to Cordova.

When he received the message, Ferdinand was at a banquet. His martial followers learned with exultation of the prospect of a new campaign, and the scene of mirth and festivity was at once exchanged for the stern and serious preparations for war. The season was most unpropitious to military operations. The winter rains had flooded the country, raised the streams far beyond their banks, and rendered the roads impassable. A long and toilsome journey separated the capitals of Leon and Andalusia. But nothing could daunt the spirit of the Castilian and Leonese chivalry, whose religious fervor and martial enthusiasm were augmented and stimulated by the example of their king. The exigencies of the situation would not tolerate delay. Communication with remote districts was difficult, and but three hundred horsemen could be raised to follow Ferdinand in an expedition which promised far more danger than glory. The Christians surrounded at Cordova formed but an insignificant force, wholly inadequate, it would at first appear, to the conquest of a strong and populous capital. But fortune, which had so frequently aided in promoting the designs of Spanish audacity, again interposed in favor of the champions of the Cross. In their extremity, the Cordovans had repeatedly implored Mohammed-Ibn-Hud, whose army was encamped at Ecija, to raise the siege before more Castilian troops arrived. Had these requests been heeded, the utter destruction of the Castilians could hardly have been prevented. That cautious leader, however, entertained a wholesome dread of the prowess of his enemies, and hesitated to confront in battle, even when the conditions were all in his favor, the redoubtable warriors of the North. He delayed, he temporized, he sent renegade spies into the Christian camp, who, having been detected, seized the opportunity to stipulate for pardon on condition of their return of false reports to the Moorish general. Their representations of the exaggerated numbers of and hourly increasing accessions to the Castilian army were believed; Ibn-Hud declined to risk his power upon the event of a single engagement, and the Cordovans beheld with sorrow and indignation the disappearance of their only hope of escape. Retribution soon overtook the vacillating and too credulous Moslem prince. The siege of Valencia had been formed by the King of Aragon, and the entreaties of its Emir had more weight with Ibn-Hud than the plaintive appeals of his other imperilled countrymen. While on his march to reinforce that monarch he halted at Almeria. That city was governed by a secret partisan of Mohammed-al-Ahmar, who saw in this unexpected visit a convenient opportunity to increase his favor with his patron. A magnificent banquet was prepared, and the noble and wealthy merchants of Almeria contended with each other in honoring the distinguished guest. The choicest wines of Spain were provided in the greatest variety and profusion for the canonically prohibited, but none the less acceptable, entertainment of the assembled Moslems. At a late hour Ibn-Hud was conducted to his chamber and drowned in the basin of a fountain by slaves who had received their instructions from the governor himself. His death was officially attributed to apoplexy resulting from intoxication; but popular suspicion was not slow in tracing to its true origin the sudden end of the victim of broken faith and perfidious hospitality.

By the assassination of Mohammed-Ibn-Hud was removed the greatest remaining obstacle to Castilian conquest. He alone, of all the Moorish potentates of Spain, had refused to barter Moslem territory for Christian aid. When his political necessities required the co-operation of the infidel power, that power was reluctantly purchased with gold, and not with the surrender of fortresses to be used as a basis for hostile operations, and which could never be regained. He was the most prominent representative of Hispano-Arab nationality that had appeared for generations in the Peninsula. In opposition to him were arrayed the various elements which, in many respects mutually inimical, combined either purposely or unconsciously for the subversion of the Saracen empire, the greed and brutality of the Berbers, the fanaticism of the theologians, the hopeless aspirations of a horde of princely adventurers, the indomitable energy and perseverance of the Christian sovereigns. Against these destructive agencies Ibn-Hud conducted a brave but hopeless struggle. Prejudice against African domination had been aggravated by centuries of crime and oppression. But Berber influence was still potent in many communities, and in some predominantly so. Immigration and intermarriage had contributed largely to consolidate and preserve the power originally obtained by violence. Ibn-Hud was in no sense the champion of the clergy. He was accused of atheism; his speech was often blasphemous, and he was habitually addicted to immoderate indulgence in wine. But these faults would have been readily condoned by ecclesiastical indulgence if their possessor had exhibited an edifying subserviency to the ministers of religion. Instead of this, however, he lost no opportunity of turning the hypocritical professions of the faquis into ridicule, a course which, by alienating a numerous and influential sect, materially accelerated the hour of Christian triumph. The suicidal behavior of the petty rulers and soldiers of fortune who indulged the fallacious hope of empire has already been repeatedly alluded to in this work. United, they might have deferred for a time the inevitable day of reckoning for official misconduct and national corruption; separated and hostile, they destroyed the basis of all power and social organization, and the stability of none so quickly as their own.

The murder of Ibn-Hud caused the immediate disbanding of his troops, and the investment of Cordova proceeded without fear of interference from an army which, properly commanded, could easily have raised the siege. Ali-Ibn-Yusuf, the brother of the dead prince, obtained the Emirate of Murcia, of which, however, he was soon deprived by assassination through the instrumentality of Mohammed-al-Ahmar, and, together with the principality of Almeria, it was added to the territory of the rising kingdom of Granada.

Their desertion by Ibn-Hud and the intelligence of his tragic death struck the citizens of Cordova with terror. Notwithstanding his pusillanimous conduct, they had still hoped that he might ultimately effect their deliverance. Now, however, there was no one to whom they could turn for succor. News of the important enterprise in which the King of Castile and Leon was engaged had already spread to the most distant settlements of the Christian territory. Citizen and peasant, noble and mountaineer, braving the inclemency of an unfavorable season and the dangers of swollen torrents and flooded highways, hastened to the seat of war. The dismay of the besieged increased with each shout which announced the arrival of a new detachment at the Castilian camp. The Christians made frequent and desperate attempts to carry the place by storm. The garrison was worn out with the fatigue it was compelled to undergo; and the effeminate and disorderly populace were ill-qualified to perform the duties of soldiers. Walls and towers were tottering under the blows of the military engines. The suddenness of the attack had found the city, which, nominally protected by a truce, dreamed of nothing less than a siege, entirely unprovided with supplies. Food became scarce. It was manifest that the inevitable destiny of the ancient metropolis of the Ommeyade khalifate could not long be postponed. Actuated by motives of self-preservation and humanity, the Moorish authorities determined to make terms with the King, and to avoid if possible the awful calamities which had been visited upon so many of the unfortunate cities of Andalusia. The capitulation was made under the distressing conditions usually imposed in such cases upon the vanquished. The inhabitants were required to abandon everything and to depart from the province. As the long and weeping train of penniless exiles passed out of the gates on one side the conquerors entered on the other. It was with the greatest display of military and ecclesiastical pomp that the Christians took possession of the famous Moslem capital. The old walls echoed the tread of mailed squadrons, the stirring notes of the trumpet, and the solemn chants of the clergy, who, in all the splendor of glittering vestments, jewelled censer, and crucifix, occupied the post of honor in the procession. The royal standard of Castile and Leon was planted on the highest tower of the fortifications. It was with wonder, not altogether unmingled with reverence, that the ignorant and ruffian soldiery viewed the exquisite beauty of the Great Mosque,—the shrine which, venerated as a sanctuary, had invited the pilgrimage of the devout of distant nations; the temple which had been enriched by the emulous munificence of the most opulent and polished princes of Europe; the edifice which, alone of all the marvellous architectural creations of the Hispano-Arab age of gold, had survived intact the fury of religious discord, the tumult of revolution, the extinction of dynasties, the destruction of empires. Amidst the vicissitudes of invasion, conquest, and revolt, a veneration akin to idolatry had always invested the Djalma of Abd-al-Rahman. The exterior still glowed with the warm and brilliant coloring of the Orient. The court-yard still exhibited in its diversified horticulture the capricious taste of the Andalusian gardener. Inside, the presence of the myriads of pious worshippers who had trodden its interminable aisles in the course of five eventful centuries had left few permanent traces. The pattern of the elegant pavement was partially effaced. Within the Mihrab—the centre of the little sanctuary which looked towards the temple of Mecca—a channel deeply worn in the marble floor indicated where countless pilgrims, in imitation of the ceremonies of the Kaaba, had seven times made its circuit on their knees. These, however, were the sole but eloquent testimonials of the continuous devotion of fifteen generations. The walls were hung with that richly embossed and decorated leather whose name indicated the Ommeyade capital as the place of its invention and manufacture. The ceiling sparkled in the semi-obscurity with its gilded pendentives and silver stars. Upon the arches of the Mihrab appeared in untarnished beauty the dazzling mosaics which had been the pride of the Byzantine artisan. The treasures of the mosque, the mimbar, or pulpit, the chandeliers, lamps, and censers, were all, save one, in their accustomed places. The most precious object of Moslem reverence, the Koran of Othman, regarded as the talisman of Spain, had been carried away to Africa by the Almohade monarch, Abd-al-Mumen, and with its departure, according to the superstitious belief of the devout, had vanished the last warrant of the security of Moslem power. That ornament of the Mihrab—the relic stained with the blood of a martyred khalif, the first of a race whose martial energy and literary endowments were destined to dignify and honor the royalty of Islam—was now in the hands of foreign and inappreciative barbarians. From the ceiling were suspended the bells of the church of Santiago, placed there by the great Al-Mansur, significant trophies of the victorious career of that most renowned of Moorish commanders. But once before in its history had this splendid temple, which, in public estimation, was inferior in holiness only to the mosques of Mecca and Jerusalem, been desecrated by the presence of the infidel. Now, however, it was eternally lost to the religion for the celebration of whose rites it had been founded. The Mussulman pilgrim, attracted by the reputation of its sanctity and the fame of its unrivalled magnificence, could henceforth no more invoke the name of the Prophet within its venerable walls.

The vast edifice was almost deserted as the Christian procession, headed by the greatest prelates of Spain, filed slowly through its portals. A few of the attendants peered curiously from behind the pillars at the splendid array, whose appearance was the ominous signal of the final suppression of the Mohammedan faith in the Peninsula. Amidst the prayers of the priests and the shouts of the soldiery, the cross was raised upon the cupola of the Mihrab. In accordance with the prescribed ceremonies of the Roman Catholic ritual, the edifice was cleansed of the abominations presumed to have infected it under the ministrations of another and a hostile belief. The mosque was dedicated as a cathedral, whose see was enriched with donations of some of the most valuable estates of the conquered territory. In pious retribution for the sacrilege which had appropriated them, the bells of Santiago were returned to the church from which they had been taken upon the shoulders of Moorish captives. The latter, as they painfully traversed the extensive regions that separated the plains of Andalusia from the cheerless Galician solitudes—regions which once trembled at the very mention of Moslem heroes—might well reflect upon the transitory character of religious faith and the instability of human greatness.

The compulsory evacuation of Cordova struck a blow at its prosperity from which it never recovered. With natural advantages enjoyed by few communities, it remains to this day the most poverty-stricken and stagnant of the great cities of Spain. Its vitality is preserved by the wealth and resources of its ecclesiastical establishment alone. Its markets are deserted, its thoroughfares grass-grown and silent. A grotesque and tawdry church rises in the very centre of the mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, impairing its symmetry, and furnishing an eternal monument to the folly and prejudices of a fanatical priesthood. The banished population carried with it a thrift and an industry which centuries have not been able to replace. Many arts, brought to a high degree of perfection, disappeared with its expulsion. The walls begun by the Cæsars, and greatly extended by the princes of the House of Ommeyah, embraced within their circumference the original area of the once populous Moslem capital. Time, however, had dealt severely with that far-famed city. Entire quarters had been depopulated by the fury of rebellion, the vicissitudes of political fortune, the ravages of conquest. Streets, formerly crowded with merchants and brokers of every clime, were impassable from the accumulated rubbish of demolished houses. The alcazar, which adjoined the mosque, was a dismantled ruin. The rage of the populace and the vandalism of African invaders had swept away the palaces whose number and elegance had awakened the admiration of every beholder. The villas of the suburbs had disappeared. The lovely gardens, in whose culture and preservation had been exhibited the utmost perfection of horticultural art, were now impenetrable thickets, from whose tangled depths, here and there, rose a heap of fallen columns or a broken horseshoe arch. Under the khalifate, the Valley of the Guadalquivir was so thickly settled as to present the appearance of one vast community, and from Cordova to Andujar countless villages attested the fertility of the soil and the thoroughness of its cultivation. At the time of the Christian occupation this region had become a desert, and a desert it has since remained. For the intelligence and energy of the Moslem were substituted the sloth and ignorance of the monk; ecclesiastical councils, in which were solemnly discussed the alleged inspired origin of absurd dogmas, usurped the place of the literary assemblies of the khalifs; and the monastery and the episcopal palace, with their secret crimes and open vices, rose upon the ruins of institutions of learning whose instruction had developed the greatest minds of Europe, and whose influence and principles had dignified even the papal throne.

While the Castilians were prosecuting their important campaign in the West, the genius of the King of Aragon was again asserting itself in the principality of Valencia. Under the lax system of political morality prevalent during the Middle Ages, an insignificant event was not infrequently made the pretext for a protracted and bloody war. Abu-Djomail, Emir of Valencia, for some reason deferred the delivery of tribute to Jaime, his suzerain, and the latter, elated by the conquest of Majorca, determined to make this an excuse to add to his already extensive dominions the most valuable remaining province of Spain. Profoundly politic as well as brave, the King of Aragon obtained the official sanction of Pope Gregory IX. for his meditated design, and the inauguration of a fresh crusade was proclaimed to the bold adventurers of Europe. An extraordinary tax was voted for the pious enterprise by the Cortes of Catalonia; a great army was assembled, and the campaign was begun by the siege of Burriana, a strongly fortified seaport, whose numerous garrison and maritime relations with the neighboring states of Africa promised a long and vigorous resistance. This expectation was verified to the letter. Several months elapsed before the place surrendered. It was midwinter, for the impetuosity of Jaime did not consider, in the attack on an enemy, either the disadvantages of the season or inferiority in numbers. In the conduct of this siege he displayed the qualities of an able commander even more conspicuously than he had done before Majorca. He personally directed the operations of the military engines. He led the troops to the breach. He exercised careful supervision over the camp, provided for the comfort of the soldiers, dressed the wounds of the injured, cheered with words of consolation the last moments of the dying. The severe privations it was called upon to endure damped the enthusiasm of the army. Some of the discontented nobility demanded that the siege be raised. The King refused, even in the face of the imminent desertion of a majority of his troops. While the malcontents remained sullenly in camp, he, supported only by a few faithful followers, skirmished daily with the enemy, who, having learned the condition of affairs, had assumed the offensive. At length the determination of the King prevailed, and the nobles returned to their duty. The siege was thenceforth pressed with redoubled energy, and Burriana was soon added to the long list of Jaime’s conquests. Its reduction caused the immediate surrender of the strong city of Peniscola and of a considerable number of towns in the Valencian territory. The disaffection of the Aragonese and Catalonian nobility was removed by these successes, and their fidelity was confirmed by the immediate investiture of the most distinguished of their number with the larger part of the conquered domain,—a politic measure which increased their military and feudal obligations, while it temporarily secured their attachment and gratitude.

From the day of his accession to the hour when he entered the Moorish capital in triumph, the absorbing desire of Jaime was the conquest of Valencia. The difficulties which presented themselves to the realization of this project only confirmed the resolution of the King. A few miles from the city stood the fortress of Puig. Its impregnable situation and close proximity to the metropolis of the kingdom rendered its possession highly advantageous to an army besieging Valencia. It had fallen into the hands of the Aragonese after the capitulation of Peniscola, and its defences had been greatly strengthened by the Christian engineers. During the absence of Jaime, an army of forty thousand Moslems, commanded by the Emir in person, appeared before it. The garrison was greatly inferior in numbers, but composed of picked warriors never accustomed to count their enemies excepting after a victory. Their intrepidity hardly allowed them to await the approach of the Valencians. They issued from the gates; their sudden and impetuous attack disconcerted their adversaries; and the discomfiture of a host of twenty times their number added a new trophy to the innumerable triumphs of Christian valor. The battle of Puig destroyed the confidence of the Moslems of Valencia, and they never again ventured to encounter their terrible antagonists in the open field.

Despite the favorable beginning of the campaign, the Aragonese army was daily reduced by desertions, and when, a few weeks afterwards, it encamped before Valencia, it mustered less than fifteen hundred strong. Rarely had an enterprise of such importance been undertaken with so small a force. In addition to its numerical weakness, its efficiency was impaired by a general feeling of suspicion, engendered by a lack of confidence and an absence of discipline. Many nobles abandoned their king, often without notice, taking their retainers with them. Those who remained could not be relied on, and had, in fact, good reason for discontent. The daily winter rains increased the difficulty of military movements and the danger of disease. Few of those who had served in the former campaign cared for a repetition of the experiences before Majorca. The presence of a brave and treacherous enemy rendered increasing vigilance indispensable and magnified the already arduous labors of a siege whose issue, under existing circumstances, could hardly be successful. The pay of the soldiers was in arrears, and the treasure chest, exhausted by unusual demands and plundered by dishonest custodians, was empty. The camp resounded with complaints. The murmurs of the courtiers were not suppressed even in the royal presence. When the King announced his intention to return for the purpose of seeking reinforcements, the remaining nobles declared that they would accompany him and renounce an undertaking which promised nothing but disaster. But relief was at hand from a quarter whence substantial encouragement had already been repeatedly obtained in wars with the Moorish infidel. The crusading spirit, generally nourished by incentives wholly foreign to the principles of religion, which, however, always afforded a convenient pretext for the most flagrant outrages against humanity, was by no means dormant in Europe. Another crusade was proclaimed by the Holy See. The passions of rapacious adventurers were inflamed with the hope of conquest, while the promise of unlimited pardons, indulgences, and booty attracted to the standard of the Cross a motley concourse of criminals, outlaws, and fanatics. France and England furnished almost all of these recruits, who numbered nearly seventy thousand. With such an army, which was constantly supplied with provisions by sea, the ultimate result of the campaign seemed no longer doubtful. To prove to the enemy, as well as to his own followers, his intention not to abandon his position until the city should be captured, Jaime made use of every artifice and expedient at his command. The Christian camp by degrees assumed the appearance and character of a permanent outpost. The quarters of the soldiery were constructed of substantial materials. The Queen, attended by the ladies of the court, arrived and took up her residence in the royal pavilion. Operations were pressed with increasing diligence. The Moors, impressed by these ominous evidences of the unalterable purpose of the besiegers, attempted to negotiate. All the territory between Teruel, Tortosa, and the Guadalquivir—a region of boundless fertility and defended by many strong fortresses, together with a yearly tribute of ten thousand pieces of gold—was offered as the price of peace. The King, conscious of his advantage, declined to listen to any terms of accommodation which did not include the capitulation of the city. The prize almost within his grasp was too valuable to be made the subject of barter. The traveller who to-day traverses the province of Valencia is amazed and enchanted with its productiveness and beauty. Yet what he sees is a comparatively insignificant portion of that which was once under the highest cultivation attainable by any system of agriculture. The density of the population required the greatest economy and labor in the division and use of both land and water. Hills that are now rocky and barren. were, under Moorish occupation, covered to the very summits with verdant terraces. Irrigation, governed by a code of laws which Spanish conceit and prejudice have never been able to repeal, was carried to almost absolute perfection. Every product flourished in a climate not inaptly compared with that of Paradise. The natural resources and accumulated wealth of such a principality were too alluring to permit its long continuance in the hands of those whose skill and patient efforts had founded and perpetuated its prosperity. At the sight of the voluptuous regions of Southern Spain, the Christian of the inhospitable North often forgot his country and the deeds of his heroic ancestors who had wrested with difficulty from the infidel a foothold in the Pyrenees; in the presence of the lovely houris of another faith he sometimes renounced his religion and his God. The Spanish crusades were not characterized by the absurd but sincere fanaticism which was the chief motive that inspired the expeditions to Palestine. No kings or courtiers abandoned home, country, friends, and family to obtain an object of doubtful expediency in the midst of an arid and scorching desert. No misguided multitude, roused by ecclesiastical eloquence, undertook the most interminable of journeys, endured the most horrible of privations for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, which omnipotent wisdom or Moslem valor had left since the reign of Omar, with a single slight intermission, in the hands of the infidel. The warriors who assumed the cross in the Peninsula were men of a widely different stamp from the followers of Peter the Hermit or the vassals of Philip Augustus and Richard Plantagenet. It is true that some of them had served in the Holy Land; but these were not fair representatives of the brave, the chivalrous, the pious crusaders. Their incentives had been mercenary, or they may have sought security for unpardonable crimes in the confused obscurity of a multitude of strangers. The most ignoble designs were concealed by the ample but well-worn mantle of religion. The wealth of the Moorish cities, the seductive influence of the climate when contrasted with the inclement and dreary atmosphere of Central and Northern Europe, the beauty and grace of the Mohammedan women were well known to every nation from Byzantium to Britain. It was no secret, either, that the population of the terrestrial paradise which bordered on the Mediterranean had long since lost the prestige and the strength which had distinguished the armies of the khalifate, and was not fitted to contend with fierce and powerful warriors reared amidst cold and privation, trained to martial exercises from infancy, and whose occupation and pastime alike were war. The accomplishment of the Reconquest would have been long and indefinitely deferred had it depended on the exertions of the Spaniards alone. Credit for the exploits which subdued and eventually consolidated under the Castilian sceptre the Hispano-Arab principalities is in no small degree due to the prowess of adventurers from every country in Christendom. The frenzied exhortations of monkish zealots were not required to excite the passions of the foreign crusader who volunteered in the armies of Jaime and Ferdinand. In his eyes the propagation of the Faith was merely an excuse for pillage. He was conspicuously negligent in the performance of his religious duties, extended experience and observation having thoroughly familiarized him with the inconsistencies and the failings of the clergy, and inspired him with a contempt for that order which he was usually at no pains to conceal. His attachment to the cause of Christ lasted just as long as it was profitable. Such considerations are not applicable, however, to the independent Christian population of Spain. With it the extinction of Moslem domination was a measure of political necessity, of national existence, of individual freedom. For five hundred years the struggle had continued. More than once the petty states which had sprung from the weak and insignificant community established in the Asturias in the face of Moorish triumph, expanded by ages of undaunted resolution and superhuman valor, and finally developed into a number of kingdoms whose mutual antagonisms were the greatest menace to their stability and power, had been on the point of submitting once more in humiliating subordination to Moslem authority, evidenced by the regular and humiliating rendition of homage. Generations of battle had engendered in the mind of the Spanish Christian a sentiment of ferocious hatred against the infidel enemy who had usurped the empire of his ancestors; who had defeated his most valiant sovereigns; to whose harems had been consigned the most beautiful maidens of his race, either as a degrading tribute or as the spoils of war; whose sacrilegious hands had seized the sacred treasures of his altars; who had deposited with exultant shouts within the mosque of his capital the bells whose solemn tones had so often called to their devotions the pilgrims assembled at the holy shrine of Santiago. The grosser passions of avarice and military ambition were, indeed, rarely absent from the motives which prompted the conduct of the mediæval Spaniard. Inherited prejudice, early education, the maxims of his religious guides, all had a tendency to intensify the detestation entertained by him against such as refused assent to the doctrines of his creed. The Castilian despised the knowledge and the intellectual accomplishments which made the Moor immeasurably his superior, but he often reluctantly confessed the bravery of his infidel adversary in the field. This antipathy and intolerance, while openly encouraged by the clergy for professional reasons, were in reality less marked among the ecclesiastics than elsewhere. As their order monopolized the meagre learning of the time, they were better qualified to appreciate the scientific acquirements which distinguished the polished enemies of their faith. As representatives of a system largely maintained by organized hypocrisy, they condemned in public what they often studied with wonder and delight in the luxurious solitude of the convent and the monastery. The prelates as well as the nobles did not disdain to imitate the vices of the Moslem, especially condemned by their religion, their canons, the precepts of their Founder, and the example of the chaste and abstemious Fathers of the Church. The writings of the heterodox Mussulmans were not unfamiliar to the more intelligent and inquisitive members of the Spanish hierarchy. The theological gloom of the episcopal palace was dispelled by the joyous presence of lovely infidels, whose caresses were more attractive to the clerical voluptuary than the monotonous ceremonies of the mass, and whose suggestive dances, relics of the licentious diversions of Pagan antiquity, were frequently performed for the delectation of saintly visitors in the most retired apartments of the ecclesiastical seraglio.

Incentives other than those inspired by disinterested piety had great weight with the majority of the Spanish clergy. The Church, through the diligently fostered fears and the misdirected liberality of its superstitious adherents, was always the greatest beneficiary of a successful campaign against the Saracen. The lucrative precedent for the accumulation of treasure, eventually consumed in the construction and adornment of the palatial religious houses of the Peninsula, whose number and magnificence, although sadly diminished, are still sufficient to excite the envy of Catholic Europe, had already been established. The annual contributions bestowed by royal munificence or wrung from individual poverty were but a pittance when compared with the booty to be secured by the Church militant at the capture of a single Moslem city. Uncanonical considerations were, moreover, no insignificant inducements to the martial ecclesiastic to abandon for a time the cope for the cuirass. The formal and traditional obligations of his order were but lightly regarded by the Castilian or the Leonese prelate. His vow of poverty had long been forgotten amidst the boundless epicureanism of elegant luxury, magnificent furniture, expensive and gaudy raiment, priceless jewels, the possession of horses whose purity of breed moved the envy of the greatest nobles, the parade of trains of slaves whose physical attractions were indisputable proof of the taste and incontinence of their masters. The Spanish hierarchy, independent of the Papacy from the early days of Gothic domination, was far from presenting in its polity the nice distinctions of official rank and the rigid subordination to superiors exhibited in the profound and elaborate organization of the papal system. Each prelate enjoyed a large share of independence in his own diocese, and recent acknowledgment of the paramount claims of the See of Rome had not abrogated the ecclesiastical prerogatives confirmed by prescriptive right based upon the uninterrupted usage of centuries. The vow of implicit obedience—generally considered an unmeaning formality and unknown in practice under the Visigoths—was for generations after the public submission to papal supremacy disregarded as an imperative obligation of the clergy. Such was the condition of the Spanish priesthood and such the base and inconsistent motives which prompted the overthrow of the most perfect examples of material and intellectual progress which had adorned and instructed Europe since the climax of Roman civilization.

The great accession of moral strength secured through the instrumentality of the Papacy enabled the King of Aragon vigorously to assume the offensive. A great fortified camp, whose works defied the feeble and desultory efforts of the besieged, now encircled the city of Valencia. The machines were placed in position, the walls were mined, and intercourse with the Moors on the side of the land effectually intercepted. By the sea, however, communication was as yet comparatively clear, and pressing messages for assistance were sent by the beleaguered Moslems to their brethren in Andalusia and Africa. To these appeals no one responded except the Emir of Tunis, whose squadron was not able to effect a landing in the face of the overwhelming numbers of the enemy. After the departure of the Africans, the Catalonian navy formed the blockade of the port; under the increased exertions of the besiegers the walls began to crumble, and the inhabitants held themselves in constant readiness to repel a storming party. It required no power of the imagination to picture the result of a successful attack by the lawless troops now besieging the city. The melancholy examples of beautiful and populous towns delivered up to pillage were fresh in the mind of every Moslem in the Peninsula. Of all the Christian armies which the Saracens of Spain had yet encountered, that of Jaime contained the largest proportion of foreign adventurers. The native soldiery, seldom accessible to pity, were humane when compared with the fierce and bloodthirsty outlaws who formed the bulk of the crusaders. These considerations were not lost upon the people of Valencia, who could not hope to hold in check much longer an enemy whose numbers, valor, and military resources gave him such decided advantages over a garrison exhausted by prolonged hostilities, whose defences were rapidly becoming untenable, whose provisions were almost exhausted, and which had no prospect of reinforcements or aid from any quarter. Haunted by the dread of massacre, the Valencians proposed terms of surrender, which the prudence of Jaime readily induced him to accord. They were expressly guaranteed against the violence of the troops, a provision which experience had frequently demonstrated to be but a precarious security. Such as chose to remain were promised the undisturbed enjoyment of their possessions, their individual liberty, and their religious faith. All taxes, excepting those ordinarily imposed on the people of Aragon, were to be abolished. To those who preferred to tempt the doubtful fortunes of voluntary exile were conceded their arms and all the portable property they could carry, with the assurance that their Journey through the territory occupied by the Christians might be prosecuted without molestation. The majority of the Moslems adopted the latter alternative. The uncontrollable temper of their enemies, infuriated by the loss of anticipated booty and inflamed with religious hatred, was too great a menace to be lightly braved in the presence of men who would, under the most insignificant pretext, indulge to satiety their ferocious instincts.

Fifty thousand persons abandoned their homes and sought temporary safety beyond the Xucar, which was designated as the new boundary of Christian conquest; a truce nominally of seven years, but whose actual duration was entirely dependent on the capricious indulgence of the victor, was agreed upon, and the royal standard of Aragon was raised by the Moslems themselves upon the battlements of Valencia. It required all the authority of the King to repress the fierce passions of his unruly followers, some of whom did not hesitate to violate the provisions of the treaty and the laws of military discipline by attempts to plunder the helpless and the distressed who had been compelled to yield to the inexorable results of war. The heads of these mutineers, insensible alike to the claims of public faith and the suggestions of humanity, were promptly struck off by the King himself, whose evident intention to maintain inviolate the pledges he had given produced a salutary effect on the turbulent and insubordinate spirits of his command.

The houses and the estates abandoned by their former owners, who preferred exile and penury to the risk of death or oppression, were apportioned among such of the crusaders as had distinguished themselves by the amount of their contributions, the importance of their military service, or the number of the retainers who had followed them to battle. Considerable difficulty was incurred in adjusting the conflicting claims of those who, exaggerating the value of their achievements and the generosity of their donations, demanded an undue share of the reward. Three hundred and eighty knights and nobles were, according to the judgment of the King, deemed worthy of investiture with fiefs derived from the lands of the conquered territory, whose tenures imposed upon each feudatory the obligation of guarding for four months in every year a certain portion of the border. The clergy, as was usually the case, secured by superior dexterity and by the influence attaching to their sacred office the most valuable of the lands affected by the public distribution.

Information of the surrender of the Moorish capital spread fast through the dominions of the victorious monarch. Attracted by the richness of the new conquest, the subjects of Jaime deserted their barren country by thousands to fix their residence and improve their fortunes in a land so favored by the bountiful hand of Nature. The void occasioned by the departure of fifty thousand Moslems was speedily filled, so far as the mere enumeration of individuals might supply a deficiency of population. But intelligence, industry, enterprise, and taste were not prominent characteristics of the Aragonese and Catalonian peasantry who replaced the Moorish merchants and artificers of Valencia. These were qualities which could not be provided by promiscuous immigration. The new colonists presented a striking and unfavorable contrast to the remaining inhabitants; the numbers of the latter were eventually reduced by systematic persecution, and the decadence of Valencia dates from the day of its subjection to Christian authority.

The internal affairs of his kingdom urgently demanding his attention, Jaime was forced to leave the scene of his triumph before the political organization of the new province was complete. During his absence, his lieutenants persistently abused their delegated authority for the sake of private emolument. The national obligations incurred by the conclusion of: a truce had no significance in the eyes of these professional marauders. The King had scarcely embarked, before a predatory inroad convinced the Moors of the duplicity of a foe who violated without compunction engagements which had been ratified with every circumstance of deliberation and solemnity. The grievous conditions of partisan warfare were renewed. The existence of a truce was considered an advantage, as increasing opportunities for surprise. Every individual who wore a Moorish dress was classed as an enemy and treated accordingly. Fields were ravaged. Castles were taken and sacked. The peasantry fled from their homes in terror. The country was rapidly assuming the melancholy appearance of those regions of the Peninsula which had been harassed for generations by the alternate occupancy of hostile armies, when the arrival of the King arrested the progress of destruction. Such property as could be found and identified was restored to its owners. The frightened cultivators were invited to resume their peaceful avocations. The noble, who, with his retainers, had unceremoniously occupied the fortress of some Moslem prince, was summarily deposed from his recent and illegally acquired dignity. By every means in his power the King endeavored to make reparation for the wrongs committed without his sanction by an undisciplined and reckless soldiery. This conduct, dictated by sentiments of personal honor and public equity, was, however, not destined to endure. The long period designated by the truce was eminently unfavorable to the designs of both clerical avarice and royal ambition. Episcopal piety was grieved by the infidel possession of cities whose revenues would sustain with ease the pecuniary burdens of an extensive bishopric. The worthy prelate saw with horror and indignation the performance of Moslem rites in sumptuous mosques protected by the unwonted indulgence of a Christian prince, and longed for the day when the wealth of these splendid establishments might be confiscated for the benefit of the Church of Christ and the treasury of a corrupt and sensual priesthood. With military success and expanding power the public opinion of the age tended more and more to the disregard of treaties contracted with an enemy who was daily becoming less capable of resistance. The constant and universal excitation of theological odium contributed mainly to the adoption of this false and pernicious principle of political ethics. Secular ignorance came in time to sincerely believe the odious doctrine defended by ingenious casuists and promulgated by ecclesiastical hypocrisy and hatred from motives of personal interest. For its acceptance and pursuit to an inevitable conclusion, the degradation of Spain from the high position it occupied under the first sovereigns of the Austrian dynasty is to be chiefly attributed. No people can systematically repudiate its contracts, even with an adversary incapable of resenting his injuries, without forfeiting the respect and confidence of the other members of the great community of nations. The diplomatic perfidy inaugurated by religious malice and royal subserviency in the Moorish wars of the Peninsula was subsequently repeated, on a larger scale, in the politics of Europe, and was responsible for most of the incredible atrocities which accompanied the conquest of Mexico, Central America, Peru. Already tacitly acknowledged as a maxim of national policy in a country which subsequently displayed its willingness to sacrifice the most obvious principles of public faith and morality for the exaltation of ecclesiastical power by the foundation of the Jesuit Order, the peremptory abrogation of a treaty with the votaries of a hostile faith was considered, during the epoch under consideration, rather a meritorious than a reprehensible proceeding. Therefore the King of Aragon, after he had rebuked his officious subordinates for their ill-timed energy and exhibited a plausible zeal for redress by restoring their possessions to the injured Moslems, felt no reluctance in committing the same offence against honor and justice as soon as his own plans were matured. His martial emulation had been excited by the exploits of Ferdinand of Castile in the West, and he feared that that monarch might be tempted to include in his ambitious projects the subjugation of the remaining Eastern states of Moorish Spain, which he himself already regarded as his own by the doubtful claims of geographical proximity and anticipated conquest. With the insatiable avidity of the conqueror, he preferred to violate his royal word rather than to be insulted by the presence of a foe who still enjoyed possession of a region equal in extent and advantages to any recently added to the dominions of Aragon, and, what was even more important, who could not hope to offer any serious opposition to his arms. The ever-available pretext of religious expediency, or even duty, urged by able and pious advocates, was no doubt efficacious in removing any conscientious scruples he might have entertained.

The city of Xativa, situated on the frontier of the now diminished Moorish domain and south of the Xucar, the boundary established by the treaty, was the first place to experience the effects of Spanish duplicity and the resistless impetus of Spanish power. Its manufacturing interests had from time immemorial been among the most extensive and profitable in the Peninsula. Under the Romans, its linen products enjoyed a reputation for fineness and durability which spread to the limits of the empire. During the Moslem occupation, it was the centre of the paper industry in Spain. The adoption of cotton as a material for the fabrication of this most useful article of commerce is said to have been due to the practical genius of the artisans of Xativa. At a time when the scribes of Christian Europe were reduced to the necessity of erasing the works of classic authors to obtain parchment for the preservation of pious homilies and monkish legends, the mills of Xativa were producing great quantities of paper, much of which, in texture and finish, will compare not unfavorably with that obtained by the most improved processes of modern manufacture. The demand for this product, indispensable among a people of intellectual tastes like the Hispano-Arabs, was enormous. The factories of the city supplied the imperial scriptoriums whence issued the voluminous works that filled the vast libraries of the khalifs. The literary necessities of a highly educated population, the multiplication of manuscripts, the requirements of innumerable institutions of learning had a tendency to constantly promote this industry, of which Xativa was the principal distributing point in the empire, and of whose profits it enjoyed a practical monopoly. In consequence of this lucrative branch of traffic, the citizens in time amassed prodigious fortunes, and many of them rivalled, in the splendor of their domestic establishments and their equipages, the magnificent displays of royalty. But this was far from being the only source of the opulence of Xativa. The same genial climate, the same wonderfully productive soil belonged to the district surrounding that city which had made the principality of Valencia a model of agricultural perfection. In the thirteenth century it presented to the casual observer the same charming aspect it had exhibited under the khalifate. Aside from occasional temporary occupation by freebooters, it had almost entirely escaped the destructive effects of internal discord and foreign invasion. Its inhabitants retained to a large extent their possessions, impaired somewhat by the casualties incident to national misfortune and by the resultant diminution of the manufacture which had been the principal source of their prosperity. But the abounding harvests, the interminable orchards, the vast plantations of cane and cotton still attested the flourishing and happy condition of an industrious people. The knowledge of these manifold advantages and the overpowering incentive of military glory more than counterbalanced, in the mind of the King of Aragon, the moral obligations he had incurred. Without a formal declaration of war, without any intimation of broken faith or meditated hostility, a numerous Christian army, commanded by Jaime in person, pitched its tents before Xativa. Under ordinary circumstances that city was not incapable of an obstinate defence. Its fortifications were strong and in good repair. Its immense castle, which is still its most conspicuous feature, was second in extent and massiveness only to the famous citadel of Almeria. The population was numerous, the facilities for obtaining subsistence excellent. In imitation of many of the Moslem communities of Spain which royal incompetency and national indifference had abandoned to their fate, the inhabitants of Xativa had erected their city into an independent principality, whose laws and institutions were modelled after those of a republic. This political anomaly had not yet secured even the confidence of its originators. The experimental stage of government had not been passed. The radical deviation from principles always recognized as essential elements of a constitution which had endured from time immemorial and on which the entire Moslem polity was based was not regarded with favor by a large and powerful faction, in which were included many of the most wealthy and influential citizens. This want of harmony was fatal to the liberties of Xativa. It was found impossible to secure the co-operation of parties which mutually distrusted each other, and the sudden appearance of an enemy increased the uncertainty and danger of the situation. It was not improbable that the enterprise of Jaime had been undertaken with a previous knowledge of the political conditions prevailing in the last great city of Oriental Spain which remained in the hands of the Moslems. Apprehensive of the result of a siege which must terminate disastrously, the magistrates of Xativa hastened to propose a compromise. An agreement was concluded by which the place was not to be surrendered to any sovereign but the King of Aragon. A number of castles and a considerable extent of territory which acknowledged the jurisdiction of the city were given up as the price of a temporary respite; other unprotected places distracted by revolution and without hope of relief sought the dangerous protection of a Christian suzerain; and the greater part of the region south of the Xucar was incorporated into the Aragonese monarchy, which received this important addition to its realms with no other exertion than that required by the commission of a deliberate act of perfidy.

Family troubles and the civil dissensions which distracted the kingdom of Jaime deferred for three years any further molestation of the Moslems of Xativa. Profiting by their dearly purchased experience, they utilized every moment of that interval in preparing for the approaching conflict. Foreign engineers were employed to direct the efforts of the native laborers. The castle, already one of the best fortified in Europe, was still further strengthened. The walls of the city were increased in height and protected by additional buttresses and barbicans. An efficient militia was organized, and the citizens, whose enervating climate made them reluctant to undergo the duties of military service, were thoroughly instructed in the use of arms. Magazines sufficient to contain supplies for an extended siege were erected and filled. These preparations, which indicated the determined spirit of the Xativans, were productive of important results when the Aragonese again invested the city. The King, whose force was wholly inadequate to the reduction of the most formidable fortress in the Peninsula, was repulsed; but the capture of Alcira and Denia, after an obstinate resistance, in a measure indemnified him for the disappointment he was compelled to endure before Xativa.

In the mean time Ferdinand had subjected to the crown of Castile the remaining Moorish cities of Andalusia, and his occupation of Murcia seemed to indicate an intention to encroach upon those provinces of the East which the King of Aragon, in the formation of great plans of conquest, already regarded as his own. The latter learned with apprehension of the progress and the increasing reputation of his enterprising and successful contemporary. Like the aspiring young Greek general, the trophies of his rival would not suffer him to sleep. The prospect of additional power and glory to be acquired by a monarch whose exploits had already eclipsed the distinction in arms he himself enjoyed and had won the applause of Christendom, was not flattering to his vanity and ambition. He collected an imposing army, and bound himself by a solemn oath never to slacken his efforts until Xativa should be taken. Once more the siege of the Moorish stronghold was begun. The defence was conducted with signal ability and courage; but the garrison, well aware that no hope of assistance could be entertained, was induced to propose terms of accommodation before the city was reduced to extremity. Such was the impregnable character of the place that remarkably favorable conditions were obtained by the besieged. The nature of these conditions may well excite surprise. The Christians seem to have gained nothing in reality but a nominal occupation of those quarters of the town which, in case of renewed hostilities, were not susceptible of effective defence. The great citadel, which dominated not only Xativa but also the surrounding country, remained in possession of the Moors. At the expiration of two years it was to be evacuated, and two other castles were to be given in exchange for its peaceable transfer to the Aragonese. The Moslems were guaranteed protection of person and property as well as permitted the practice of their religion and the operation of their laws. Such equitable treatment of an infidel foe had been long unknown to the savage code of the princes who directed the Reconquest. Never since the Christian power attained to prominence had concessions equally generous been granted to the vanquished Saracen. It would appear, however, that this leniency was really only a pretext to gain by treachery what was unattainable by force. For a time the treaty was respected. The murmurs of the soldiery, defrauded of their expected prey, were silenced by ample donatives from the royal treasury. The inhabitants, deluded by a show of impartiality and moderation, pursued in peace their ordinary employments. But this condition was only temporary. The grasping ambition of Jaime was not to be satisfied with the mere shadow of possession and authority. Considerations of moral obligation were unceremoniously swept aside by the royal casuist the moment they conflicted with the imperious demands of political necessity. Excuses were invented and opportunities found to accuse the Moors of infraction of the treaty. The enmity of the conquerors was, in accordance with the baser and more mercenary instincts of humanity, first directed against the rich. Opulent merchants were condemned, without accusation or trial, to exile and beggary. Their property, the chief cause of their persecution, was confiscated by the crown or divided among the clergy and the nobles, who received with complacent gratification the rewards of national perfidy and dishonor. Possession of the citadel was secured by stratagem; the castles for which it was to have been exchanged were retained by the Christians, and numbers of Moorish maidens became, in spite of the faith of conventions and in defiance of the canons of the Church, unwilling ministers of the pleasures of the orthodox but voluptuous conqueror. The melancholy end of the governor of Xativa, Yahya-Ibn-Ahmed, will arouse the compassion of every reader who sympathizes with the misfortunes which ill-directed resolution and bravery are liable to encounter in every age. He was a personage of the highest consideration among his countrymen. His talents and his integrity had elevated him to the first position in the state. His wealth enabled him to sustain with dignity the civil and military honors conferred upon him by an appreciative and admiring people. In the defence of the city he had more than justified the exalted opinion universally entertained of his capacity. The treaty he negotiated with an enemy of vastly superior resources and elated by recent conquests was the most advantageous to the weaker party of any recorded in the annals of the Peninsula. He scrupulously observed every condition of that agreement which his adversaries repudiated at their convenience without shame and without excuse. With the other wealthy citizens of Xativa he was driven from his home; his estates were appropriated by the rapacious foreigner; he was forced to subsist by the charity of strangers in a land where he had formerly displayed the ensigns and exercised the prerogatives of royalty; and, while his fate remains in doubt, his death was popularly believed to have been hastened by poison or starvation.

The subjection of Xativa by the King of Aragon caused a rupture between the two greatest soldiers of Western Europe which, had it developed into open hostility, would have seriously imperilled the cause of Christianity in the Peninsula. It was not without reason that Jaime had apprehended the dangerous effects of Castilian ambition. The tendency of conquest must hereafter inevitably be to the eastward. Andalusia, forever lost to the Moslem, was now an integral part of the dominions of Ferdinand. It was well known that the aspirations of that conqueror had not been satisfied by the acquisition of the most valuable portion of the Saracen empire. His intention to dispute the doubtful claim of Aragon to the coveted region lying east of Granada had already been disclosed by his occupation of Murcia. It was not merely by arms that the astute King of Castile endeavored to extend, at the expense of his rival, his already formidable power. The political interests of the two monarchs had recently been nominally united by the marriage of Alfonso, the heir to the Castilian throne, and Yolande, the daughter of Jaime. Instigated by his father, that prince endeavored to induce the Moslem governor to surrender to him the city of Xativa, in contravention of the treaty negotiated with the King of Aragon. This scheme was frustrated by the vigilance of Jaime, and the expulsion of the principal citizens, some of whom were suspected of complicity in the designs of Ferdinand, was determined upon in consequence of the discovery.

Foiled in this attempt, Ferdinand then demanded the place as the dowry of his daughter-in-law. But the King of Aragon, whose pride was not inferior to that of Ferdinand, was unwilling to relinquish to the importunity of a rival the substantial fruits of his courage and energy, and it required all the address and the blandishments of his queen to reconcile the conflicting pretensions of her husband and her kinsman. The ancient boundary of Murcia and Valencia was eventually re-established as the frontier of the two Christian monarchies. The designs of Jaime were hereafter prosecuted to a successful termination without hinderance from the intriguing policy of Castile, and in a few years all the other fortresses held by the Moslems in the East of the Peninsula were incorporated, either by conquest or negotiation, into the realms of the kingdom of Aragon. The remaining years of Jaime were passed amidst the distracting turmoil of family disputes and feudal encroachments. An ill-advised expedition to the Holy Land, in which the crusading fleet was dispersed by a tempest and which ended ignominiously, for a time engaged his attention. On the seventh of July, 1276, he died at Valencia, the scene of his greatest triumph.

This famous king was one of the most extraordinary personages of mediæval history. The romance which colored his entire career antedated his very existence. The son of Pedro II. and Marie, Countess of Montpellier, whose marriage had never before been consummated and was immediately afterwards practically annulled, he owed his origin to an artifice, not infrequently met with in the merry tales of the Middle Ages, but in this instance exhibiting a singular mixture of the humorous and the pathetic. Even his name he owed to chance. His mother lighted twelve candles, to represent the twelve apostles, and that of St. James having burned longer than the others, her son was christened for that worthy as his patron saint. While yet a little child, he was intrusted to Simon de Montfort, crusader, soldier of fortune, and persecutor of the Albigenses, to be educated. That freebooter, the most eminent in his infamous calling of any of the military outlaws of his time and who subsequently defeated and killed the father of his charge on the field of Muret, caused the boy to be betrothed to his own daughter before he had attained the age of four years. It afterwards required all the influence of the Pope, moved by the entreaties of the Spanish clergy, to rescue the royal infant from the hands of Simon and place him upon the throne of Aragon.

Held in the arms of the Bishop of Tarragona, he repeated mechanically and without comprehension the customary oath to maintain and execute the laws of the realm. From the very beginning his abilities, child as he was, were exercised with tact and discretion in the treatment of his uncles, who attempted to govern in his name, and of the nobles, who obstinately disputed his authority. It was not long before his genius asserted itself and commanded the respect and obedience of his unruly vassals. Personal advantages, which have so much influence with the majority of mankind, bore no small share in effecting this result. Nature had lavished upon him her most precious gifts. His stature greatly exceeded that of other men. His features were handsome; his form exhibited the proportions and the muscles of a Roman gladiator. His manners were singularly winning; his demeanor conspicuous for its graces among a people renowned for their courtesy. While fearless in the presence of danger, such was his compassion that he shrank from the signature of a death-warrant, and more than once a criminal escaped the consequences of his misdeeds through the gentleness and humanity of his king.

No prince in Spanish history occupies a more exalted position for manly qualities, dauntless valor, and lavish generosity. His reign of sixty-three years is the longest, if not the most eventful, in the annals of the Peninsula. It was practically one uninterrupted campaign. This great king won thirty pitched battles over the Moslems. He was the exemplar of the prevalent crusading passion of the time. His popularity with the clergy surpassed that of any of his royal contemporaries. He founded and endowed at his own expense two thousand churches in the territory conquered from the Moors. He knew the Scriptures by heart, and during every grand religious festival he preached from the pulpit to vast congregations with all the unction and probably with more than the eloquence of an ecclesiastical orator. His memoirs, written under the title of a chronicle, disclose a profound knowledge of human nature, acute observation, and a remarkable degree of literary culture, considering the advantages he enjoyed and the circumstances under which his life was passed. Powerful even in death, the provision of his will excluding females from the succession has always been sacredly observed as an inviolable part of the constitution of the kingdom of Aragon.

The reverse of the medal is not so attractive. The famous Aragonese crusader was bigoted, perfidious, licentious, cruel. He introduced the Inquisition into Spain. Its agents, the Dominicans, were his favorite counsellors. While treating for the surrender of Elche, in the presence of his courtiers he slipped a purse of three hundred byzants into the sleeve of one of the Moorish envoys, who he had ascertained was willing to betray his countrymen for gold. He violated his royal word to Doña Teresa de Vidaure, whom he had promised to make his queen, and was supported in his infamous resolve by the Pope. He habitually repudiated the most solemn contracts entered into with his Moslem vassals and adversaries. His libertinism was conspicuous even in an age of universal social depravity. He lived with two wives at once. He entertained numerous concubines. He was said to have had a mistress for every church that he founded. He caused the tongue of the Bishop of Gerona, his spiritual adviser, to be torn out as a punishment for having betrayed certain unsavory secrets learned in the sacred privacy of the confessional. Amidst the frightful spectacles afforded by cities carried by assault, the pitiless hand of the ferocious soldiery was rarely stayed by the authority of the champion of the Christian cause, in whose eyes every infidel was legitimate prey.

The scene of action in the exhibition of the romantic drama of the Reconquest now shifts to Andalusia. It was in that province, enriched with every gift of nature, improved by every resource of industry and art, that Moorish civilization first had its origin; and it was there that, after centuries of glory, it was destined to a melancholy and disastrous end.

The monarchy of Castile, the foundation of whose future greatness had been already laid by the important military successes which preceded and followed the capture of the ancient metropolis of the khalifate, was now to be adorned with yet more decisive and brilliant triumphs. With the death of Mohammed-Ibn-Hud the integrity of the Emirate of Murcia was destroyed. The alcalde of each city, the governor of each province, forthwith aspired to independence. The absurd claims and irreconcilable quarrels of these petty rulers, none of whom were worthy of the title of prince, but the majority of whom claimed the dignity of khalif, advanced unconsciously, but none the less expeditiously, the projects of the Christian enemy. The dismemberment of Murcia had been the result of the intrigues of Mohammed, King of Granada, the founder of the famous line of the Alhamares, who was now recognized by all patriotic Moslems as the representative of their power and their religion in the Peninsula. The assassination of the daring Ibn-Hud had been injurious rather than beneficial to the national cause. None of the score of pretenders who had divided among themselves the principality of Murcia were willing to do homage to the King of Granada, whose title to sovereignty was, in fact, no better than their own; and Mohammed, whose attention was fully occupied by the movements of the Christians, was not at liberty to enforce compliance with his demands by the potent agency of the sword. After a series of indecisive operations, in which the Christians, although they succeeded in penetrating as far as the Vega of Granada, seem to have been worsted in almost every encounter, Ferdinand turned his attention to the more promising field presented by the divided and helpless Emirate of Murcia. An army under the command of Prince Alfonso had already reached the borders of that kingdom when hostilities were suspended by overtures for peace. The reputation of the Castilian monarch, while stained with many well-founded accusations of violated honor and broken faith, was so far superior to that of his contemporaries that the Moslems did not hesitate, even with the full knowledge of the ecclesiastical influences to which he was blindly subject, to intrust to him the custody of their persons and the disposal of their fortunes. Other reasons impelled them to this wise determination. Combined, the states of Murcia could never have successfully withstood the power of the Castilian monarchy; disunited, their resistance was absolutely hopeless. The dreadful fate of Moorish cities which had attempted to retard the advance of Christian conquest was always present to the effeminate population of Murcia. Ultimate subjection to either Ferdinand or Jaime was inevitable. The inhumanity of the Castilian had heretofore been far less conspicuous in instances of voluntary submission than that displayed by the cruel and perfidious Aragonese, whose armies were largely composed of foreigners, and whose ideas of equity were habitually subordinated to considerations of present gain or future advantage. With these facts before them, the Moslems of Murcia did not long hesitate in making a choice of masters. The cities of the emirate with the exception of Lorca voluntarily submitted to the ascendency of Castile, and the ceremonies incident to the establishment of royal supremacy were performed. The feudal obligations which preceded the institution of suzerainty and vassalage were then publicly acknowledged, and the credulous Moors welcomed the tyranny of a foreign prince with acclamations such as they would scarcely have vouchsafed to a ruler of their own blood and their own religion.

The respite afforded by the prestige of his victories and by the diversion of the arms of Castile to Murcia was employed by Mohammed-Ibn-Ahmar in the improvement of his kingdom and the embellishment of his capital. The encroachments and the conquests of the Spaniards had driven into exile thousands of Moslems, to whom the society of their countrymen and the unmolested exercise of their worship were privileges not to be sacrificed to the uncertain security of Christian domination. Within the space of a few years, as a result of constant immigration, the population of Granada had increased with tremendous rapidity. The most experienced cultivators, the most finished artisans, the most learned scholars who represented the declining age of Saracen genius, found a refuge from persecution and insult in the dominions of a prince not unworthy to be compared with the most distinguished sovereigns who had ever dignified the Hispano-Arab throne. Their accumulated experience and industry had enriched beyond measure the country of their adoption. Nor was that country in the charms of climate, soil, and scenery unworthy of the labors of the most energetic and accomplished of colonists. Its surface, diversified by valley, plain, and mountain, afforded the combined advantages elsewhere enjoyed only by a succession of regions in widely distant quarters of the globe. A few hundred feet of elevation or descent determined the character of the vegetation, and valuable plants, ordinarily separated by many degrees of latitude, here grew luxuriantly almost side by side. Streams fed by melting snows rushed down the mountain slope, diffusing their refreshing moisture through the teeming harvests of the Vega. This district—as the plain enclosed by the Sierra Nevada and the Alpujarras became subsequently designated—was unsurpassed in the fertility of its soil and the number and superior quality of its agricultural products. So dense was its population, that its contiguous and endless hamlets and plantations gave it the appearance of a single interminable village. Although including an area of not more than seven hundred and fifty square miles, it supplied with ease under Moslem care and economy the wants and luxuries of a hundred thousand souls. At its northern extremity, on the gentle slope of the Sierra, stood the capital, which had begun to assume the architectural splendor which distinguished the dynasty of its builders, the crumbling ruins of whose edifices are still the models of the architect and the admiration of the traveller. The vast circuit of the Alhambra, with the ancient fortress which, from a period far anterior to the foundation of the khalifate, had commanded the city with its innumerable towers, barbicans, outworks, had already been enclosed. Facing the citadel, on the most elevated point of an eminence which barbarian sagacity had, even before the date of Phœnician occupation, chosen as a place of refuge and security, a magnificent palace, the exemplar of a new and indescribably gorgeous style of architecture, had arisen. Its arcades and halls and courts did not as yet exhibit the extent of area, the exquisite taste, the profusion of ornament which subsequently distinguished the most elaborate and beautiful edifice of Mohammedan Spain. In that portion, however, which had issued from the hands of the builders the germ of its future elegance was plainly discernible. The most skilful workmen in the Peninsula—still the European centre of architectural superiority—had been employed in its construction and embellishment as well as in the design and completion of many less sumptuous and imposing, but still not less remarkable, structures of the capital. A constant influx of dextrous and ingenious colonists from the provinces harassed by Christian cruelty and intolerance had developed, to a degree which could scarcely have been anticipated by the most sanguine political economist, the inexhaustible mineral, agricultural, and commercial resources of the kingdom. As a legitimate consequence of this extraordinary impulse received by every department of trade and husbandry, the revenues of the state were prodigiously increased. With the means and the opportunity of enjoyment came a growing demand for every article of luxury. Through the ports of Almeria and Malaga a maritime trade was maintained with distant countries which greatly enriched the merchants of Granada. The capital was adorned with superb buildings dedicated to the noble purposes of public instruction and religious worship. A portion of the intellectual ambition and literary culture which had exalted the Ommeyade metropolis to such well-merited pre-eminence seemed to have been inherited by Granada. Her institutions of learning were superior to all others of contemporaneous Europe. The works of her historians, travellers, and scholars survive as the masterpieces of the age in which they were composed. It is to the genius of Mohammed I. that the origin of her prosperity and influence must be attributed. The Moslem immigrant, deluded by a false and momentary security, believed that he had, after many wanderings, at last discovered a permanent abode. But the sagacious mind of Mohammed was deceived by no such pleasing anticipations. He recognized the full significance of Christian encroachment, and the eventual result of a conflict already prolonged for more than six hundred years, and whose termination could not long be deferred. In conjunction with his military talents he brought to bear all the resources of political craft and far-sighted diplomacy. He purchased the influence of powerful nobles and ecclesiastics at the court of Castile. He maintained the closest and most amicable relations with the sultans and sheiks of Northern Africa, whose inextinguishable hostility to the Almohade dynasty made them the faithful and enthusiastic allies of a prince who represented a faction devoted to its extermination. The important consequences of these wise and able measures subsequently became apparent in the hour of Christian success and Moslem extremity.

The rise of the monarchy of Granada in opulence and strength was coincident with, and, indeed, partly resultant from, the decline of Moorish power in the remaining states of the Peninsula. Sancho II., King of Portugal, was gradually adding to his possessions the isolated and feeble remnants of what had formerly constituted one of the most important principalities of the khalifate. In the prosecution of conquest, Jaime had invaded the region south of the Xucar, which had just before been declared inviolate by the provisions of a deliberately executed treaty. With the single exception of Jaen, the whole of Northern Andalusia had been incorporated into the monarchy of Castile. After the submission of Murcia, Ferdinand, impatient of inaction, prepared for another campaign. He penetrated into the Vega of Granada, desolated its plantations, and, returning through the valley of the Genil, where his destructive march was but too clearly indicated by the blackened remains of crops and dwellings, encamped before Jaen. The governor of that city, Ibn-Omar, an officer of indomitable courage and inexhaustible fertility of resource, showed himself eminently worthy of the trust reposed in him. The advanced position of Jaen gave it unusual value in a military point of view. It was the extreme outpost of the Moslem possessions towards the north. Its loss implied the certain fall of Seville as well as the subjection of the remaining territory of Andalusia, and would afford an unobstructed course to an enemy who desired to invade Granada. The city was only fifty miles from the capital of that kingdom. These facts made its retention in Moorish hands a strategical necessity. Its strength and the bravery of its citizens were such that hitherto every effort to take it had been futile. Anticipating the object of Ferdinand, the King of Granada had sent a large convoy with provisions and arms for the garrison, which was delayed and narrowly escaped capture. Then he attempted at the head of a numerous but undisciplined army to raise the siege. The Moorish peasantry, ill-fitted to cope with veterans skilled from boyhood in the profession of arms, were easily routed, and the situation of the besieged grew desperate. It was evident that the city was doomed, and its occupation by the Christians must, in the present defenceless condition of the Moslems, be the melancholy precursor of a long series of misfortunes, of religious persecution, poverty, slavery, and exile. Then it was that Mohammed determined upon a course which his shrewdness convinced him was the only expedient through whose means the integrity of his kingdom and the preservation of his people could be secured. He appeared voluntarily in the camp of the Castilian king and announced his willingness to render him homage. The penetration of the astute Moslem had not miscalculated the effect of this extraordinary resolve upon the mind of his generous rival. The surprise and gratification of Ferdinand at the proposal inclined his disposition, ever averse to acts of deliberate cruelty and injustice, to a display of unusual magnanimity. He accepted with unconcealed pleasure the offer of Mohammed; the mutual obligations of lord and vassal were assumed, and the sovereign of Granada agreed to attend, when summoned, the national assembly of the Cortes, to furnish a stated number of soldiers in case of war,—even against the votaries of his own religion,—and to pay each year into the treasury of Castile a tribute of fifty thousand maravedis of gold. The duty of protection incumbent on the suzerain, according to the laws of feudalism, was solemnly acknowledged by Ferdinand, and the surrender of Jaen, as an assurance of good faith, was the significant preliminary of a temporary but advantageous peace. The impolitic liberality of their monarch in granting such favorable concessions to an enemy reduced to despair has been, perhaps not with injustice, severely criticised by Spanish historians and churchmen. In this instance, at all events, the royal saint was not guided by celestial inspiration, and the adoption of a treaty inimical to the interests of his country prolonged the existence of Islamism in the Peninsula for a period of two hundred and fifty years.

The success which had attended the movements of the King of Castile in the recent campaign incited him to further and even more strenuous efforts. Seville, the greatest city of Moslem Spain, the centre of a region of prodigious fertility, the seat of a most lucrative maritime and internal trade, a city whose wealth and manifold attractions could hardly be exaggerated by either the pride of the Moor or the cupidity of the Spaniard, was still in the hands of the infidel. At that time its population, increased by thousands of refugees and exiles, was larger than at any previous period of its history. The productiveness of the soil and the patient industry of the cultivator had repaired the effects of foreign depredation and domestic violence. Its environs, remote from the seat of war, had not suffered from repeated and systematic devastation such as had afflicted the suburbs of Cordova. From the summit of the Giralda, for a distance of fifty miles on every side, could be seen a continuous mass of verdure dotted with farm-houses and villas, interspersed with olive plantations, vineyards, and orange groves, and intersected by the silver threads of countless canals and rivulets. Occasionally the ruins of a hamlet or the brushwood which covered the surface of a once flourishing district proclaimed the former presence of an enemy, but in general the appearance of the surrounding country did not differ materially from that which it had worn in the most thriving days of the Moslem domination. The quays of the city were crowded with shipping from every port of the Mediterranean. The streets swarmed with people. The markets, provided alike with the most common articles of daily consumption and the most expensive luxuries, afforded unmistakable evidences of general prosperity, and the imposing and splendid edifices dedicated to public utility, private ostentation, and religious worship disclosed the extraordinary development of architectural taste and the substantial results of princely munificence. In its external aspect, therefore, Seville still exhibited an apparent, if deceptive, image of imperial greatness. Her power, however, as was perfectly realized by her citizens, rested upon an insecure and crumbling foundation. Many of those citizens had once been residents of flourishish communities which the fortunes of war had delivered to the merciless Christian. Their mosques had been profaned. Their household gods had been scattered. Their children were in the harems of the licentious noble or ecclesiastic. They, more than all others, understood the deplorable results of conquest, and the persevering, the indomitable, the resistless spirit which inspired the measures and guided the movements of the Christian armies. The fears which had for so long agitated the inhabitants of Seville were now about to be realized. In a political as well as in a geographical sense the city and its dependencies were completely isolated. At the south was the Mediterranean; in all other directions the Castilian power encroached upon the limits of Sevillian territory; the sole monarch of kindred blood and a common faith was a vassal of the enemy. Other causes conspired to render the separation more complete. Berber influence, extinct elsewhere in Spain and fast vanishing in its original seat across the sea, still maintained a precarious but decided foothold in the centre of Andalusia. The Emir of Seville, Abu-Abdallah, was a prince of the Almohade dynasty. The unpopularity of that abhorred race had by no means declined with its capacity to effect either substantial benefit or serious injury. In the breast of the Arab partisan all other animosities were reconciled when confronted with the universal execration which attached to the names and the character of Almohade and African. Two centuries and a half had passed since the distrust and the partiality of Al-Mansur had elevated to posts of pre-eminent dignity and power individuals of a race that Arab pride disdained as inferior, and whose influence subsequent experience had conclusively proved to be inconceivably destructive to art, learning, and every instinct of civilization. Since that fatal day the supremacy of Islam in the West had steadily declined. Results of the inherent evils of a defective political system, and of the refractory character of a mixed population whose elements were incapable of thorough and permanent fusion, were commonly attributed to the sinister influence with which tribal prejudice and hereditary malevolence invested every act of an aggressive and finally dominant faction.

The surrender of Jaen and the unexpected submission of the King of Granada imparted extraordinary power and distinction to the cause of Ferdinand. His arms were regarded as invincible alike by his Moorish enemies and by his admiring subjects and allies. The inhabitants of Seville heard with consternation of the removal of the last bulwark which guarded the frontier and of the defection of the last Moslem prince who, despite the persistence of ancient prejudices and the memory of recent wrongs, it had been fondly hoped might still have made common cause with the adherents of the same religious belief against the enemies of Islam. The activity of the conqueror afforded them but little time for defensive measures. The great vassals of the kingdom were summoned to the camp at Cordova, the starting-point of the campaign. Among them was Mohammed, whose fealty to his suzerain was attested by a retinue of five hundred picked and splendidly mounted horsemen. Orders were sent to Biscay to equip and despatch a fleet to blockade the mouth of the Guadalquivir and to intercept all communication with Africa. The environs of Carmona were wasted with fire and sword. Alcalá de Guadair was taken and presented to the King of Granada as a token of esteem and confidence from his feudal lord. As the main body of the army was about to move, Ferdinand received intelligence of the death of his mother, Queen Berenguela, who at the advanced age of seventy-six years was, as the regent of the kingdom and the counsellor of her son, not unequal to the assumption of the cares and responsibilities of a great and turbulent empire. In the mind of the stoical and ambitious sovereign of Castile, the misfortune of domestic bereavement was unhesitatingly subordinated to the important interests of country and religion. The campaign was inaugurated without delay. The ruthless policy of an age which made war with a barbarity at present happily extinct demanded the absolute destruction of everything which could afford either shelter or subsistence to a foe. The Castilians, acting upon this principle, soon transformed the beautiful plain of Seville into a prospect of appalling desolation. The houses were burned. The harvests were trampled into the earth. The vineyards were destroyed. The orchards, the orange-groves, the almond and pomegranate plantations were cut down and set on fire. For leagues in every direction the view was obscured by dense clouds of smoke rising from half-consumed trees and burning villages. The city itself was enveloped in darkness which at times made the streets impassable and exceeded the gloom of a starless night. This exhibition of severity was not lost upon the inhabitants of the more defenceless towns of Andalusia. Carmona, Loja, Alcolea hastened to make terms with the invader. Others, among which was the fortress of Cantillana, held out till the last, and received a terrible lesson for their obstinacy. All places which offered resistance were stormed, delivered up to pillage, and every living being within their walls was massacred without mercy. The capitulation of other cities and the utter devastation of the country deprived the people of Seville of the prospect of reinforcements and the means of obtaining supplies. The produce of the crops, swept away by the Castilian cavalry, had been their dependence for replenishing the failing magazines of the capital, and upon the resistance of the outlying fortresses had rested the hope of securing time to reap the harvests. The only resource of the Almohade prince was now with his kinsmen beyond the Strait. His appeal for help was answered by the donation of a fleet of twenty galleys, which attempted to arrest the progress of the Christian squadron about to ascend the Guadalquivir. A naval battle was fought; the Moors, notwithstanding their superior numbers and their long experience in this kind of encounters, were defeated, and the Castilians, proceeding up the river without molestation, cast anchor in front of the city. The arrival of the squadron was the signal for energetic operations. The army, which had heretofore confined its efforts to the persecution of a defenceless peasantry, was brought within the restraints of discipline. The established policy of the Christian sovereigns, who, in the conduct of important enterprises, endeavored to impress upon the besieged the hopelessness of protracted resistance, was again observed. Substantial buildings were erected for the shelter of the soldiery. The avenues were lined with shops which, divided according to the various trades, suggested the occupations and the traffic of a considerable city. The families of the troops took up their residence within the intrenchments. Severe police regulations were established. Fortifications, whose materials and general plan were sufficiently solid and durable for the protection of a populous town rather than for the defence of a temporary encampment, rose before the eyes of the disheartened Moslems. A. strict blockade was maintained; the predatory excursions of the Christians were extended beyond the limits of the already ravaged territory, and the surviving provincials forced to take advantage of the impregnable security of mountain strongholds. The difficulties attending the prosecution of the enterprise in which he had embarked soon impressed themselves upon the Castilian King. Seville at that time was one of the best fortified cities in Europe. It was also one of the most populous, as it contained eighty thousand families, divided into twenty-four tribes according to the ancient Arabic system; and, as those families were polygamous, the number of its inhabitants could hardly have been less than five hundred thousand. Long exposed to the hazards of revolution and conquest, it had been strengthened by every dynasty by which it had been governed. A double line of walls, protected by a moat, encircled it. Its outworks were of unusual solidity, among these the Tower of Gold, which still exists in excellent preservation and indicates the massive construction of these defences, guarded the approach from the river. The present condition of the fortifications, some of which were contemporaneous with the Cæsars, suggests the ease with which an enemy provided only with the comparatively imperfect appliances of mediæval engineering could have been repelled. Its greatest weakness was to be found in the multitude of refugees who, driven from the open country, thronged its habitations, inviting, by the reckless disregard of sanitary precautions and by an increased consumption of provisions, the insidious approaches of disease and famine.

The employment of the influence of the Holy See in the wars of Valencia offered a precedent too valuable to be neglected in the present emergency. The tremendously effective intervention of the Papacy was again solicited to arouse the latent enthusiasm of Europe. From every corner of Spain, from every land subject to the spiritual jurisdiction of Rome, volunteers marched to join the legions of Christendom before the gates of Seville. Unlike former crusades, which had assumed a more or less partisan character and whose summons had been generally unheeded save by those directly interested in the result, representatives of all the states enclosed by the Pyrenees, the Mediterranean, and the ocean hastened to participate in the perils and to share the glory of a campaign destined to remove from Southern Andalusia the most serious impediment to Christian supremacy and the most formidable adversary of Spanish power. The princes of Castile, Aragon, Portugal, appeared escorted by the chivalry of their several kingdoms. From the pulpits of a thousand cathedrals and churches resounded the stirring call to arms. Frantic appeals to the fanaticism of the masses were made alike by famous prelates in great ecclesiastical assemblies and by itinerant friars at the wayside cross. Bishops cast aside the habiliments of the altar for the panoply of war. The metropolitan of Santiago, followed by a body of Galician peasantry, came to contribute, by his ghostly counsels and the inspiration of the patron saint of Spain, to the final overthrow of the accursed infidel. A motley assemblage of foreigners, of unsavory antecedents and mercenary character, added to the numbers, if not the efficiency, of the Christian host.

The siege of Seville, which lasted for seventeen months, proved to be the most arduous and obstinately contested struggle in the history of the Reconquest. The city, with a river easily accessible to an enemy on one side and the others surrounded by a vast and level plain, was necessarily compelled to rely for its defensive capacity and advantages mainly upon the art and ingenuity of man. Across the Guadalquivir was the suburb now known as Triana, whose fortifications, not inferior in strength to those of the capital itself, were manned by a brave and determined garrison. A bridge of boats moored with heavy chains connected the city and the suburb. The communication of these two points was a source of constant annoyance to the Castilians, and the investment had hardly been completed when the King of Granada volunteered to undertake the destruction of the bridge. A fleet of fire-rafts was prepared, but it drifted ashore before reaching its destination. The purpose of the besiegers was subsequently accomplished by means of boats laden with stone, whose weight, aided by the force of the current, shattered the bridge and drove its swinging fragments upon opposite banks of the river. The isolation of Triana failed to compel its surrender, which was one of the principal objects of the attack. Upon the broken bridge the frequent sallies of the garrison still carried death and terror into the Christian ranks. No nation of that period had a more thorough acquaintance with the art of defensive warfare than the Spanish Moslems. The sudden sally, the skirmish, the night attack were not more congenial to their nature than was their ability to detect, and their skill to foil, the well-matured designs of an enemy. The ramparts of Seville and Triana were equipped with the most formidable engines known to the military science of the age. The Saracen catapults projected for immense distances and with crushing power masses of stone and iron weighing more than a thousand pounds. Their balistas cast a hundred arrows at once, and the force of these missiles was so tremendous that they transfixed with ease a horse completely sheathed in steel. The secret of the composition of Greek fire the Moors had long before learned from the soldiers of Constantinople, and this dangerous agent of destruction had in their hands reached an even higher degree of efficiency than it had elsewhere attained. Numbers of movable towers, together with their unfortunate occupants, were consumed by its unquenchable flames before they had time to approach the walls. Considering the long duration of the siege, but little damage was inflicted upon the fortifications of the city. The ordinary resources of engineering skill became useless in the face of the vigilance and determination of the garrison. Repeated attempts to carry the place by escalade were repulsed. It was found impracticable to mine the walls. Owing to the accuracy and penetration of the projectiles discharged by the enemy, the machines of the Christians could not be worked within a range that would prove effective. The usual means at the disposal of an attacking force having failed, it became necessary to resort to a blockade, which the great numbers of the besieged must in the end render successful. Hunger and despair were thus eventually found to be more powerful weapons than all the military appliances at the command of an extensive monarchy, than the enthusiastic energy of a great nation, than the combined efforts of a thoroughly organized hierarchy, than even the benedictions and indulgences of the Papal throne. All of these influences had been exerted to effect the subjection of the Moorish capital, and all had hitherto proved unavailing. The Moslems, inclined to come to terms before their provisions were entirely consumed and the patience of their enemies exhausted, attempted to treat upon a basis of ordinary tribute and vassalage,—a proposition which the King of Castile peremptorily declined to consider. They then continued to offer concessions more and more favorable to the dignity of the Christian monarchy, until a treaty was finally agreed upon. It was with the greatest reluctance that the piety of the Moslems consented to the surrender of their great mosque, which, with its minaret, was the most sacred as well as the most conspicuous monument of the city. They proposed its demolition as one of the conditions of surrender. To this Ferdinand replied that if a single brick of the edifice was disturbed he would not leave a Moor alive in Seville. The title to the capital and its dependencies was transferred to the Castilian crown. The inhabitants who preferred to remain the subjects of the conqueror were assured the enjoyment of their laws and their religion, and were to be liable only to the imposition of taxes legalized by Moslem usage; those to whom such propositions were repugnant were permitted to retain their personal effects, and were promised transportation to any land possessed by their co-religionists which they might, without restriction, select. The policy of a court which habitually encouraged the infraction of treaties was not favorable to the retention of a population whose skill and industry were the true sources of the wealth of Andalusia. The surviving members of the Almohade dynasty passed over to Africa. A large majority of the Moors emigrated to Granada, where the liberality of their new sovereign and their own energy and perseverance soon raised them to a higher condition of prosperity than ever. The conduct of Mohammed I., who was placed in an anomalous and painful situation by an inexorable decree of destiny, elicited the unstinted praise of both friend and foe. His efforts contributed largely to the success of the Christians. His military accomplishments and personal courage were the admiration of cavaliers versed in every martial exercise and in every stratagem of war. He enjoyed the esteem and confidence of his royal suzerain. Yet, while participating in the triumphs of his new allies, he never renounced the ties of blood and faith which still bound him to his countrymen. His intercession procured for them advantageous terms in the day of disaster and humiliation. His sympathy alleviated the bitterness of defeat. And when no other alternative was left to the vanquished excepting the capricious indulgence of a perfidious enemy or voluntary exile, they found under his sceptre a secure and happy refuge from insult and oppression. More than a hundred thousand of the most industrious peasantry in the world were thus added to the population of his dominions by the politic and generous behavior of the King of Granada. These colonists received ample grants of lands. Seeds and implements of husbandry were furnished them by the government, and they were exempted from all taxation for a term of years. By this great immigration, which impoverished the territory conquered by the Christians, the states of Granada received a proportionate increase of profit and affluence.

The occupation of Seville by the Castilians was characterized by the usual ceremonies incident to the capture of a Mussulman city. The mosques were purified and consecrated to the Christian worship. In the division of the spoil and the distribution of the rich states of the Moslem, the Church exercised without remonstrance the privileges of priority of selection and exorbitant estimate of service. In the partition of infidel possessions the pretensions of the altar were fast becoming paramount to the rights of the crown. The ecclesiastical jurisdiction, suspended since the era of Visigothic supremacy, was restored. A metropolitan diocese was established. A multitude of religious houses were founded by the piety of the King and the zeal or repentance of his followers; thousands of colonists supplied the vacancies caused by emigration, and Seville within a few months assumed the dull and cheerless appearance of a Spanish city. The maritime district of Andalusia, to the westward, as well as the towns situated between the capital and the coast, successively acknowledged the claims of Spanish sovereignty, and the undisputed authority of Castile and Leon soon prevailed from the mountains of Biscay to the Mediterranean Sea.

While these events were transpiring, the Kings of Aragon and Portugal had wrested from the grasp of the Moslems, enfeebled by internal dissensions and constant defeat, the last fragments of the empire of the khalifs; and there remained of the extensive territory once ruled by the mighty potentates of Cordova but a single district, designated in the enumeration of their states as a province, but now daily increasing in renown as the tributary but powerful kingdom of Granada.

The character of Ferdinand III., like that of so many of his successors, was largely formed by the monitions of ecclesiastical counsellors. He was most emphatically the creature of his age,—an age of romantic undertakings, of mistaken piety, of religious intolerance. Like the King of Aragon, his contemporary, the early years of his reign were disturbed by domestic discord. Like him, also, he triumphed by the aid of the clergy. Profoundly sagacious, he was ever ready to profit by the factional quarrels of his infidel enemies. He made large additions to his power by furnishing Castilian troops to aid the ambition or the enmity of Saracen partisans in return for the cession of important castles and fertile territory. As a pretended neutral, alternately supporting the pretensions and promoting the feuds of rival Moslem princes, the Crown of Castile was always the gainer. King Ferdinand was a worthy representative of the proselyting spirit which characterized his royal line from the very institution of the monarchy. Popular with the masses, his subjects had declared him worthy of canonization even in his lifetime. To the ecclesiastical order he was an ideal sovereign. His donations to the Church were frequent and prodigal. In the occupation of conquered cities he always permitted the crucifix to take precedence of the sceptre. When the wretched Albigenses, fleeing from the tortures of Montfort and the swords of his bravos, attempted to find an asylum beyond the Pyrenees, the pious King of Castile burned all who fell into his hands, and even performed the highly meritorious duty of personally assisting at the sacrifice and of heaping fagots upon the funeral pyres which consumed those obstinate and abominable heretics.

The conqueror of Andalusia fixed his final residence in the largest of the provincial capitals which had bowed before the invincible efforts of his arms. A few hours before his death, on the thirtieth of May, 1252, in abasing humility he received the last sacrament, kneeling upon the bare earth, with a rope about his neck, in the guise and the attitude of a convicted malefactor.

In the great cathedral of Seville, the most incomparable monument of ecclesiastical architecture in Europe, a magnificent chapel has been raised to his memory. Before the high altar the venerated monarch lies enshrined in a casket of massy silver. Mounted effigies, encased in the armor of the thirteenth century, tower above the kneeling worshippers. On the walls, carved in stone, are the historic escutcheons of Castile and Leon. The royal sepulchre bears an inscription in four languages—Latin, Spanish, Hebrew, and Arabic—the respective idioms of the clergy, the people, the tributary, and the conquered race. Around it, on each anniversary of his death, a detachment of Granadan Moors, with lighted tapers in their hands, once stood motionless and in silence. To-day, three times in every year, the body of Castile’s most famous sovereign is exposed to public view adorned with all the pomp of royalty,—with the crown, the sceptre, the robes; mass is said, and a regiment of soldiers salute the mouldering remains of one of the most eminent and successful commanders of his time.

CHAPTER XX
PROSECUTION OF THE RECONQUEST
1252–1475

Condition of Moorish Spain after the Death of Ferdinand III.—Invasion of Ibn-Yusuf—Vast Wealth and Power of the Spanish Clergy—Public Disorder—-Energy of Mohammed I.—His Achievements—Mohammed II.—Peace with Castile—Character of Alfonso X.—Siege of Tarifa—Mohammed III.—Al-Nazer—Ismail—Baza taken—Mohammed IV.—The Empire of Fez—Defeat of the Africans in the Plain of Pagana—-Yusuf—Rout of the Salado—Alfonso XI. captures Algeziras—Splendid Public Works of the Kings of Granada—Mohammed V.—Ismail II.—Abu-Said—He repairs to the Court of Pedro el Cruel, and is murdered—Yusuf II.—Mohammed VI.—Yusuf III.—Mohammed VII.—Mohammed VIII.—Ibn-Ismail—Gibraltar taken by the Castilians—Character of Muley Hassan—Critical Condition of the Spanish Arabs—Impending Destruction of the Kingdom of Granada.

The capture of Seville terminates an important epoch of the Reconquest. The narrative of the events relating to the condition and conduct of the subjugated Moors during the long period which intervened between the reigns of Ferdinand the Saint and Ferdinand the Catholic presents a melancholy and repulsive picture of unblushing extortion and successful treason, of violated pledges and sanguinary revenge. Oppressed by the exactions and cruelty of their lords, the unhappy sectaries of Islam more than once sought relief in hopeless rebellion. The Moslem population of Valencia, numbering three hundred thousand, made a desperate but ineffectual attempt to regain their independence. As a penalty for this, their expulsion was resolved upon by the King of Aragon,—a measure suggested and promoted by the clergy. The nobles, unwilling to sacrifice their revenues, encouraged the resistance of their vassals; and such was the influence of the aristocracy that a monarch, in order to punish treason, was forced to purchase the concurrence of his too powerful subjects by the donation of large sums of money. The train of exiles filled the highway for a distance of five leagues, and the great sum of a hundred thousand pieces of gold was collected as toll from those alone who obtained the expensive privilege of crossing the Castilian frontier.

Seventy thousand others, resolved to try the fortune of the sword, contended for three years with heroic but unavailing courage against the entire resources of the Aragonese monarchy. At length they were overpowered and compelled to evacuate the kingdom; many of their vacant lands were seized by the Crown; the most desirable estates were absorbed by the Church; the chapel replaced the mosque, the begging friar the laborer; agriculture was neglected; mechanical industry declined, and the vagrants and outlaws of every contiguous state, whose descendants now enjoy a reputation for ferocity, vindictiveness, and treachery, which has spread to the remotest corners of Europe, hastened to occupy the abandoned habitations of what had been appropriately designated a terrestrial paradise.

The Moslem tributaries of the various Christian princes participated in the endless conflicts of every disputed succession, always to their disadvantage, often to their ruin. During this age of political transition, where the lines separating the great powers of the country were so faintly drawn as to be sometimes undiscernible, and where the oldest ties of kindred were constantly broken in the gratification of vengeance or the pursuit of empire, a condition of chaotic disorder prevailed in every kingdom, state, and city of the Spanish Peninsula.

The brilliant campaigns of Ferdinand III. had extended far beyond its original limits the once insignificant realm of the Castilian monarchy. His exploits had confirmed the faith and inflamed the enthusiasm of his subjects. The trophies won from the Moslem, the almost unbroken series of triumphs, the vast and ever-increasing acquisition of territory indicated to the devout the special and indulgent protection of God. In the mind of a populace dominated by the pride of victory and the hope of conquest, there was no room for the gentle and prosaic avocations of peace. The humanizing benefits of commerce were considered beneath the dignity of a nation devoted to the profession of arms, and its practice was abandoned to the states of the Adriatic, at once despised and envied for their intelligence, their acuteness, and their prosperity. The universal prevalence of ecclesiastical legends, whose authenticity was proclaimed from every pulpit, had destroyed all taste for historical composition. The story of earthly heroes, the recital of the rise and fall of great empires and kingdoms, the progress of the arts, the triumphs of civilization were contemptuously cast aside for the miracles of fictitious saints and the absurd prodigies of superstition.

With increasing numbers, enormous revenues, and political influence, which not infrequently controlled the decrees of kings and councils, the Church, in the Peninsula as elsewhere, had long since discarded its primitive simplicity of faith and worship. The manners of its prelates were more arrogant than those of the greatest sovereigns. The most fertile lands of every province were apportioned among its servants. Its edifices occupied the most commanding and picturesque locations. From the contributions of wealthy proselytes, from the spoils of vanquished infidels, from the scruples of the pious, and from the apprehensions of the dying, immense sums were annually deposited in its treasury. The heads of the religious houses, by royal charter or papal usurpation, possessed and exercised without interference the privilege of life and death over their vassals. Some of them yielded in precedence and prerogative to the king alone. The power and opulence enjoyed by these establishments are little understood at the present day. The convent of Las Huelgas, founded by Alfonso VIII., near Burgos, is but one example of many which might be adduced. Its buildings exhibited the highest degree of architectural magnificence of which the age was capable. Three hundred towns and villages acknowledged the authority of the abbess, who was a princess palatine. The rental of its estates amounted to a fabulous sum, which often, in times of public disorder, far exceeded the revenues of the crown. The fortunes bestowed by its inmates, all of whom were required to be of noble birth, formed no inconsiderable proportion of its great and constantly increasing wealth. In its chapel were the mausoleums of kings and princes exquisitely carved in marble and alabaster. Before its altar had been knighted many personages, among them Edward I. of England. The reverence with which this convent was regarded corresponded with the luxury which invested its surroundings, and the authority of the haughty dignitary who presided over its destinies and governed her retainers and dependents with autocratic sway. Such was one of the innumerable ecclesiastical foundations which covered the Peninsula, soliciting the gifts of the pious, tempting the sacrifice of the superstitious, and awakening the awe and veneration of the ignorant and credulous multitude.

The relations between the religious, political, and military orders were then more intimate in Spain than in any other country in the world. Bishops went forth to battle in complete steel, followed by trains of armed vassals, and it was found in the hour of trial that the prowess of these belligerent soldiers of the Church was not inferior to that of their ruder companions, inured by the experience of a lifetime to the hardships and perils of war. In the short and infrequent intervals of peace, the aspiring ecclesiastic indulged his restless spirit in the dangerous and exciting diversion of political intrigue. Not an assassination was planned, not a conspiracy was projected, but the crosier and the crucifix were found side by side with the sword and the poniard. With such associations, it is not strange that the vices of the camps and the unrelenting ferocity which distinguished the mercenary crusader should have found a lodgement in the quiet abodes of religious seclusion. The choice of the female captives was reserved for the episcopal voluptuary. The subterranean vaults of the monastery were provided with the most improved instruments of torture. The richest spoils were appropriated for the benefit of the cathedral and the abbey. The wealth of the latter was incredible. The combined revenues of the Archiepiscopal See of Toledo, in the fourteenth century, were two hundred and sixty thousand ducats, or four and a half million dollars; those of the three great military orders were a hundred and forty-five thousand ducats, or upwards of two million. The state of morals prevalent among the clergy was disclosed by an edict of Alfonso X., by which he granted to the priesthood, devoted by their vows and by the canons of the Church to a condition of poverty and celibacy, the privilege of bequeathing their wealth to the offspring of their concubines. In the reign of Henry III., a mistress of the King was appointed the superior of a convent for the avowed purpose of reforming its inmates! The immorality of the religious teachers, whose behavior, so at variance with their professions, scarcely excited comment, insensibly reacted upon the people. The licentiousness of the Castilian, from the king to the beggar, was proverbial. The illegitimate offspring of the monarch often took precedence of the legal heirs to the throne. The nobles imitated with eagerness the example of royalty, and the life of the lower orders was incredibly profligate. Political honor and private integrity were practically extinct. The obligations of loyalty, the performance of contracts, the solemn engagements which united in mutual dependence the lord and the vassal, were habitually violated. The commission of crime, often instigated by the authorities appointed to punish it, went on unchecked. The highways swarmed with outlaws. The fields lay waste and whole districts were depopulated, for the industrious peasantry were unwilling to labor when their oppressors reaped the harvest. The turbulent aristocracy, when not engaged in prosecuting hereditary feuds, without concealment or apology plundered the domains and appropriated the revenues of the crown. The king was frequently compelled to pawn the insignia of his office in order to obtain the necessaries of life. The priesthood and the nobles engrossed the wealth of the realm. Debasement of the coinage, that fruitful source of so many evils, was frequently resorted to. In many parts of the country agriculture was practically abandoned; trade was paralyzed, and the pestilence, the companion of filth, neglect, and starvation, swept populous communities entirely away. The expenses of incessant warfare imposed new burdens upon a suffering and despairing people. In a single year, in Aragon, the sums expended for the ransom of prisoners amounted to four hundred thousand florins. Amidst this thorough demoralization of society, from which no class and comparatively few individuals were exempt, in the army alone was preserved the faint semblance of honor and virtue. The Castilian soldier, ever brave and generous, despite the superstition which often tarnished his character, while bowing with reverence before the altar, reserved his secret homage for the God of War. When not exercised against the infidel, now restricted to a corner of the Peninsula, his weapons were turned against his neighbor. His imagination was dazzled by the story of his ancestors; his courage was animated by the hope that he might equal or even surpass their almost superhuman exploits. A military career was the surest avenue to the enjoyment of fame, to the acquirement of wealth, to the applause of the multitude, to the smiles of beauty, to all those advantages regarded by mankind as most desirable in this life, and for which every superstitious age has with singular inconsistency been willing to barter the prospect of future happiness and eternal glory in the life to come. The pompous splendor of medieval array appealed strongly to every sentiment which could impress or influence the mind of the courtly noble or the unlettered peasant. Silks and cloth of gold; glittering armor curiously inlaid with precious metals; sparkling gems; gorgeously caparisoned horses; tabards embroidered with royal devices and suggestive mottoes; jewelled weapons whose weight and dimensions indicated that corporeal strength and manual dexterity were the most useful qualities of a soldier who prided himself quite as much upon his courtesy as his valor,—these were the attractions which with irresistible force impelled members of every rank of society to the most fascinating and lucrative of all professions,—the trade of arms.

Until the reign of Alfonso X. the pursuit of letters, abandoned to the monks, had been practised solely in the cloister. The more or less intimate relations maintained at different periods between the courts of Castile and Granada, the great universities and colleges of the Moorish kingdom, the precious literary remains which had survived the ruin of the Western Khalifate, the traditions of a civilization more elegant and polished than the world had heretofore known, made no perceptible impression upon those savage warriors who had borne in triumph the standard of the Cross from the defiles of the Asturias to the banks of the Guadalquivir. The mosques of the conquered Moslems had been deformed by incongruous additions and blackened with the smoke of incense. The exquisite labors of the Arab and Byzantine artists were plastered over with lime. Scientific instruments, almost universally viewed with mingled dread and suspicion as infernal apparatus for the prosecution of magic and the invocation of demons, were broken to pieces. Every copy of the Koran that could be found was destroyed. Such works in the Arabic tongue as came into the hands of the ecclesiastics were at once committed to the flames as of diabolical import. The beautiful palaces and villas of the Moorish princes were suffered to fall into decay. When, in after years, it was desired to partially restore their delicate ornamentation, no one could be found who understood the process,—it had been entirely lost. The lovely plantations of Andalusia, traversed by a thousand rivulets, enriched with bountiful harvests, fragrant with the blossoms of rare exotics, provided with every plant subservient to the comfort or the gratification of man, were turned into a vast and dreary solitude.

No qualities or tastes of the infidel were considered by the knight worthy of emulation save his polygamous habits and his courage and dexterity in battle,—a courage and dexterity which, alas! were insufficient to arrest, and scarcely able to retard, the stubborn and relentless march of Spanish conquest.

The social, political, and religious conditions of the Castilian monarchy sketched in the preceding pages become most important when the causes of the prolongation of the Moorish domination in Spain are considered. The kingdom of Granada, like that of Castile, was rent by internal dissensions. Surrounded by powerful and hostile states, it maintained its existence chiefly through the incessant quarrels of its neighbors. In its court and capital treason and crime were rampant. Emir after emir, whose titles were derived from the murder of their kinsmen, succeeded one another on the throne. A great and tumultuous population, which had fled before the invincible squadrons of the conqueror, crowded its provinces. The mixed character of the latter and the seditious elements of which it was composed rendered it ever ready for revolt. The numerous offspring of the royal harem was also an endless and menacing source of danger and discord. Under such circumstances, threatened with certain destruction, with the banners of Castile often in sight of the towers of the Alhambra, its midnight sky illumined with the light of burning villages, its frontiers contracting with almost every Christian foray, the Moorish kingdom maintained, from the death of Ferdinand III. to the accession of the Catholic sovereigns, a period of two hundred and twenty-two years, a turbulent and precarious existence. The monotony of that long and dreary period was unbroken by any great event, and diversified only by predatory inroads, by occasional sieges of fortified towns,—some of which, Algeziras, Tarifa, Gibraltar, were lost forever to the Moslem empire,—and by those calamities incident to the decadence of a nation whose’ parts had lost their cohesive power, and whose resources were exhausted in treasonable enterprises and civil war rather than employed in counteracting and repelling the efforts of the common enemy.

Mohammed I., as soon as he learned of the death of King Ferdinand, hastened to manifest his respect for his former lord by despatching a hundred Moorish nobles to Seville, where, clad in the deepest mourning and bearing lighted tapers, they followed the body of the monarch to the grave. Through policy or esteem, the alliance between the courts of Granada and Castile was renewed; the Emir, in token of dependence, did homage to Alfonso as his suzerain; and this condition of vassalage, more nominal than real, and rather indicative of friendship than subjection, served materially to protract the term of life of the Moslem kingdom, in the course of natural events inevitably destined to destruction. Summoned by the King of Castile to attend him in his expeditions against the Moors of Eastern Andalusia, Mohammed, bound by the obligations he had assumed, was compelled to draw his sword upon his fellow-sectaries in the interest and for the exclusive benefit of the hereditary enemies of his religion and his race. Arcos, Medina-Sidonia, Xerez, Lebrija, Niebla, and many places of inferior note fell into the hands of the Christians. With bitter mortification the Saracens beheld the subjugation of strongholds whose defences had been constructed by the soldiers of the greatest khalif’s, aware that their aid had contributed in no small degree to victories which must in the end affect the integrity of their own dominion.

The unfortunate results of this alliance did not fail to produce upon the sagacious and penetrating mind of Mohammed-al-Ahmar a deep and abiding impression. Foreseeing the certain recurrence of hostilities with the Christians, he employed every resource at his command to strengthen the defences of his kingdom and to place his army in readiness for aggressive operations. The flying squadrons of cavalry, which had always been the strongest arm of the Moorish service, were reorganized and placed under the command of skilful and experienced captains. Great quantities of provisions and munitions of war were collected and stored in magazines in every part of the country. New castles and watch-towers were erected on the frontiers. Secret emissaries were despatched to foment treason and disorder in those cities which had recently been added by conquest to the Castilian territory, and whose population, largely Moorish, cherished an implacable aversion to their new masters. The fortresses of the South, and especially Gibraltar, were strengthened and their garrisons increased. Negotiations were entered into with the Emir of Morocco, who was induced to abandon his sectarian prejudices and his personal resentment to further a meritorious and pious enterprise,—resistance against the menacing encroachments of the Christian power. When all was ready, an embassy from the towns of Medina-Sidonia, Murcia, Xerez, and Arcos solicited the aid of Mohammed, promising as a reward for his interference the annexation of their provinces to the kingdom of Granada. With secret assurances of support, which indeed had already awakened the hope of success, the tributary Moslems of the South, from Valencia to the borders of Portugal, rose simultaneously in rebellion. The Christians, ignorant or heedless of impending danger, were ruthlessly slaughtered. The soldiery fared no better than the unarmed citizens, only obtaining a somewhat longer respite by the exertion of their superior valor and skill. The garrison of Xerez, commanded by Count Gomez, after a defence memorable even in those days of knightly heroism, perished to the last man. The women and children of the massacred Castilians passed into the harems of the infidel; many were sent to Granada, some were sold in Africa. The city of Murcia was taken by a detachment of cavalry, secretly despatched by Mohammed. A conspiracy, which had for its object the liberation of Seville and Cordova from the Christian yoke, was discovered and frustrated by the merest accident; and the attempt to recover the great mosque of Abd-al-Rahman,—in the eyes of Mohammedans one of the most sacred edifices in the world, and still, despite its degradation to a temple of idolatrous worship, an object of the deepest reverence to millions of the votaries of Islam,—though unsuccessful, failed to remove from the minds of the fanatic believer the conviction that the shrine, enriched and embellished by the munificence and devotion of the khalifs, was destined at some future time to be restored to the possession of its original owners and its endless aisles once more to resound with the truths committed by the Spirit of Almighty Wisdom to the inspired interpretation of the Prophet of God.

Notwithstanding the secret and hostile machinations of Mohammed, already more than suspected by King Alfonso, the crafty Moor still maintained in his intercourse with the latter the appearance of alliance and friendship. But his temporizing conduct, when requested to assist in the subjugation of the rebels, soon resolved suspicion into certainty; the seriousness of the danger became manifest, and Alfonso, finally convinced of the dissimulation of his vassal, prepared to defend not only the ancient heritage of his fathers, but the recently acquired possessions of the crown.

A formidable band of Africans, sent by the Emir of Morocco, crossed the strait and joined the Moslem army, and a bloody but indecisive battle, in which the advantage remained with the Moslems, was fought near Alcalá-la-Real. The country on the borders of both kingdoms was constantly ravaged by bands of marauders. The Moors of the revolted provinces, secure in the defences of the fortified towns, defied the irregular and ill-concerted efforts to dislodge them, and the rancor of religious hatred, intensified by centuries of enmity, which intervals of truce and mutual professions of service had not sufficed to even palliate, broke forth with redoubled fury in every hamlet and city of Southern Andalusia. In the presence of an exhausted treasury, a dissatisfied and disloyal nobility, and an active foe who commanded at once the resources of his own kingdom and those of his allies in Africa, Alfonso began to realize how desperate was his situation. But while the territory acquired by the valor of Ferdinand III. seemed about to be wrenched from the feeble grasp of his son, the proverbial inconstancy of the Arab character, consistent in nothing save the gratification of private revenge, solved forever, at a critical moment, the problem of Moslem domination or servitude. The African allies, to whom the credit of the victory of Alcalá-la-Real was justly due, had in consequence been treated with distinguished consideration by the grateful Mohammed. But in the eyes of the Andalusian Moors the Africans were heretics, and the peculiar bias of narrow minds which regards a hostile sectary as infinitely more detestable than a foe in arms, aided by national and provincial jealousy, subverted a great and well-planned revolution. Forgetful of their services, a cry of indignant protest was raised by the bigoted Andalusian populace against the favors bestowed upon the African auxiliaries; the faquis, the ecclesiastical demagogues of the time, fanned the flame of religious animosity, and the spirit of theological discord, ever so prominent in the Moorish annals of the Peninsula, once more preferred the triumph of misdirected zeal to the welfare of country or the preservation of empire. The walis of Guadix, Malaga, and Comares, voicing the sentiments of the communities they governed, and perhaps influenced by aspirations to ultimate independence, offered to render homage to the King of Castile, with the understanding that he was to protect them from the consequences of rebellion. Alfonso received with joy the news of this unexpected accession of strength, and he embraced with eagerness the proffered alliance. The forces of the walis at once descended with irresistible fury upon the Vega, and the revolted cities, abandoned by the Emir, whose capital was menaced by the active squadrons of Malaga, were in a few months compelled to solicit the mercy of the conqueror. The larger portion of the Moorish inhabitants fled to Granada to add to the constantly growing resources and population of that kingdom, still destined for many generations to represent the culture, the science, the intelligence, and the politeness of Western Europe.

In the mean time, Jaime of Aragon, solicited by Alfonso, had occupied the city and territory of Murcia. His well-known probity, combined with his military reputation, induced the Moors to receive him rather as a mediator than an enemy. His wise and humane policy reconciled the vassals to their suzerain; and Alfonso, with a bad faith conspicuous in an age of broken treaties and repudiated obligations, agreed not only to desert his allies, the walis, but to assist in their subjugation, if Mohammed would forever renounce all sovereignty over the province of Murcia. Upon these conditions a truce was agreed to, which, however, was immediately violated by Alfonso, who, besides refusing his aid, ordered Mohammed to acknowledge the independence of the cities of Guadix, Comares, and Malaga, whose geographical position and impregnable fortifications caused them to be regarded as the keys of the kingdom. The resumption of negotiations produced more enduring and satisfactory results, and the walls, to whose timely defection the Castilian king owed the restoration of the most valuable part of his recently acquired dominions, were abandoned to the vengeance of the exasperated Emir, who purchased of the Christians temporary immunity from further hostilities by an annual tribute of two hundred and fifty thousand maravedis of gold.

Not long afterwards, while Alfonso was deliberating whether he should not again betray his vassal Mohammed by countenancing his rebellious subjects, he was recalled to Castile by a conspiracy of the nobles, headed by the Count de Lara and Don Philip, the brother of the King. The fatal indecision of his character was never more strikingly displayed than in his treatment of the conspirators, who defied the royal authority with impunity in the Cortes and the palace alike, and who finally, to the number of several thousand, including their retainers, renouncing their suzerainty, as permitted by feudal law, took refuge at the court of Granada, plundering and ravaging their own country on the way and sparing neither the rich possessions of the crown nor the sacred edifices of the Church. Mohammed welcomed this seasonable reinforcement to his prestige and power with more than regal hospitality; his distinguished guests were quartered in magnificent palaces, the most attractive national spectacles were arranged for their amusement; they received assurances of the substantial support of the Emir in the disputes with their sovereign; while, in the mean time, the shrewd and enterprising Moslem secured without difficulty the promise of their aid in the impending and doubtful contest with his defiant vassals. An expedition was organized for that purpose; the Christian knights mingled with the train of the Moslem sovereign, and a gallant array issued from the gates of Granada. But before the allied army had advanced far from the capital a sudden illness seized the Emir, and he expired in his tent within sight of the city which he had done so much to adorn.

The founder of a famous dynasty, Mohammed was one of the most talented of those princes who enjoyed the distinction of maintaining through many troubled generations the defence of the Moslem worship and the glory of the Moslem arms. At once bold and crafty, his duplicity arose rather from the character of the adversaries with whom he was forced to contend than from a cunning and ignoble nature. The doctrine that it is pardonable and, under certain circumstances, even meritorious, to disregard the most solemn engagements contracted with an infidel, subsequently carried to such atrocious consequences among the Indian population of the New World, had begun to be, as already stated, a generally admitted maxim of Catholic casuistry. Throughout the Middle Ages the law of nations, the construction of treaties, the courtesies of martial gallantry, the conditions of honorable peace, were imperfectly understood, negligently practised, and often deliberately violated. Many of the defects of this great prince were therefrom traceable to the lax morality of the age. His acts of homage to his mortal foes were mere incidents of a deep-laid policy, entered into to secure the establishment and consolidation of his power. His monarchy, oppressed by the progress of incessant conquest, became insensibly stronger and more easy to defend as its frontiers were contracted. With the Castilian occupation of every city, a crowd of industrious exiles, bearing their household goods, was added to the already numerous population of Granada; accessions which brought with them no inconsiderable wealth and many qualities more valuable than wealth to a declining empire,—habits of industry and thrift, a capacity to adapt themselves to new conditions, the memory of former injuries, the melancholy experiences of persecution, the hope of retribution, and an unconquerable hatred of the Christian name. It was the political incorporation of this banished and oppressed people, aided by the mountain barriers of its last refuge, that contributed to preserve for future glory and unparalleled disaster the flourishing kingdom of Granada.

The founding of the Alhambra has perhaps done more to perpetuate the glory of Mohammed I. than any of the political or military achievements of his career. During its construction he mingled with the workmen, encouraging their efforts, directing their labors, rewarding their diligence. But a small portion of the palace was completed in his lifetime; and it was reserved for his distant successors, under more fortunate circumstances and in a more polished age, to bring to perfection the fairy edifice which his taste and genius had projected. During the reign of this great prince every art and every industry received substantial encouragement; agriculture, which, under the khalifs, had reached such an extraordinary development, again became the favorite pursuit of a laborious peasantry; the shipping of every maritime nation brought the products of the East and West to the Moorish ports of the Mediterranean; the warehouses were filled with those articles of use and luxury which minister to the necessities and the tastes of the noble and the opulent; the mining resources of the sierras, long neglected through internal commotions and foreign war, were again developed; the quarries of jasper and marble once more contributed their treasures for the adornment of palace and mosque; public baths and hospitals furnished with every convenience and appliance known to medicine and surgery in a country which, in its acquaintance with and adaptation of those sciences, surpassed every other in Europe, rose in the principal cities of the kingdom; and the universal thrift and contentment exhibited in the appearance of the people afforded conclusive testimony of the wisdom, the justice, and the vigilance with which they were governed. Nor was the solicitude of the monarch confined to the material wants of his subjects. Schools, colleges, and other institutions of learning were multiplied beyond the example of any preceding age in that quarter of the Peninsula. The libraries, upon whose shelves were still to be found some of those volumes which had survived the wreck and the dispersion of the magnificent collection of Al-Hakem II., were the delight and the recreation of every intelligent scholar. In the embellishment of the mosques were exhibited the first examples of that art whose unrivalled beauty, in after times, found its climax upon the walls of the Alhambra in a splendor of ornamentation which modern skill has in vain attempted to approach.

In the dispensation of justice Mohammed followed the patriarchal example of his Arab ancestors. He gave audience twice a week at the gate of his palace; the humblest suitor was certain of an attentive hearing, and no person was too insignificant to be restored to his rights or too powerful to escape the consequences of insolent oppression or violated law. The public works and institutions were the especial objects of the care of this wise and politic ruler; he personally inspected the baths, the hospitals, the schools, the mosques, the highways, the aqueducts; the fidelity of the teacher and the diligence of the pupil were stimulated by judicious rewards; and his administration, surrounded by every evidence of prosperity and refinement, indicated that the genius of Moslem progress and civilization had entered upon a new and glorious existence on the banks of the Darro and the Genil. What a contrast was all this to the moral, intellectual, and social condition of Europe, and especially of Spain, in the middle of the thirteenth century! What had the boorish Castilian crusader to offer in exchange for it; what benefit could accrue to mankind from its suppression?

Mohammed-al-Ahmar was succeeded by his son Mohammed II., whose genius, taste, and learning proved him to be eminently worthy of his inheritance. An accomplished linguist, his leisure moments were employed in familiar conversation with the scholars and philosophers of distant countries, attracted to his court by his reputation for wisdom, his encouragement of letters, his protection of the arts, and his profuse but discerning liberality. His first act was an edict continuing in their official positions the ministers of his father, whose capacity had been proved by many years of faithful service; his second, the overthrow of the rebel walis, who sustained an overwhelming defeat near Antequera, by which the authority of the new emir was re-established over the territory recently in revolt, and his talents as a general became known to the Castilians, destined erelong to receive fresh evidences of his activity and courage. The recalcitrant Christian nobles, whose valor had contributed to the victory of Antequera, received magnificent rewards of horses, arms, money, and slaves. Sumptuous palaces, furnished with all the refinements of Moorish luxury, were allotted to their use or even constructed in their honor in the suburbs of the most beautiful and romantic capital in Europe.

Sentiments of mutual respect, accompanied perhaps with some apprehension of the results of a conflict where the forces of both parties were so evenly balanced, induced the rival monarchs to consent to a conference with a view to the establishment of peace. In the city of Seville, at that time the seat of the Castilian court, the notable assembly was held. In the old Moorish Alcazar, as yet intact, King Alfonso received the Emir of Granada with the barbaric magnificence which characterized the Spanish chivalry of that age. The handsome features, grave demeanor, and elegant manners of the Moslem sovereign surprised and charmed the ignorant Castilians, accustomed to consider their infidel foes as savages in appearance and demons in character. The splendid arms and costumes of the Moorish nobles dazzled the eyes of the people, while their martial bearing evoked the admiration of the Christian champions, who had experienced the prowess of their guests in many a bloody and stoutly contested encounter. The polished helmets and damascened armor of the recreant knights appeared side by side with the white turbans and silken robes which distinguished the followers of the Prophet. Every courtesy was shown to the Emir and his retinue; the day was passed in tournaments and spectacles, the night in concerts, theatrical displays, and banquets. Political negotiations, for a time subordinated to royal hospitality and chivalric amusements, were finally entered upon, and in the end completed with little honor or credit to the Castilian king. The demands of the Infante Don Philip and his adherents were granted; they were restored to their estates and resumed their precarious allegiance; a truce was arranged between the rival sovereigns, and a numerous escort of nobles, who represented the pride and luxury of the Spanish court, accompanied the Moslems to the frontier of the kingdom.

Mohammed II., humiliated by the dependent position he was compelled to assume at his accession and seeing no advantages to be derived from the perfidious friendship of the Castilians, adopted at once the astute and crooked policy of his father. Influenced by his representations, Ibn-Yusuf, Emir of Morocco, invaded the Peninsula at the head of an army of fifty thousand men. He was at once joined by the King of Granada, and the Moslems of every community of Andalusia hastened to his standard, eager to try once more the alluring but uncertain fortunes of war. The two Moslem princes marched in parallel lines, within supporting distance of each other. The country, which had for a quarter of a century experienced a respite from the ravages of a hostile army, was visited with a severity which equalled that of the most destructive of former campaigns. Not a house, not a tree, not a field of grass or grain remained standing in the blackened track of the invader. Great numbers of Christians perished; a long train of captives followed the Moslem armies; and the days of African dominion seemed about to be renewed. At the Castilian frontier the Sultan of Morocco encountered Nuño de Lara, commandant of that military district, and after a furious battle the bodies of the Spanish general and eight thousand of his followers which strewed the plain bore witness to the prowess of the Berber soldiery.

The division of Mohammed II. moved through the territory of Jaen, where Sancho, Primate of Spain,—who, the son of Jaime, King of Aragon, had inherited the martial instincts of his father, in a warlike age rather an incentive than an impediment to the duties of the clerical profession,—had assumed command. The distinguished prelate, relying more upon the miraculous intervention of Heaven than upon the numerical strength of his squadrons, did not hesitate to attack with a few thousand knights the entire Moorish army. His followers were slaughtered, and he himself, surrounded and disarmed, became the prisoner of a score of Moslems, who, judging from his dress and appearance that he must be a personage of unusual consequence, contended angrily for the honor of the capture and the hope of a heavy ransom. Both African and Andalusian were interested in the result; the old factional prejudices were revived, and an appeal to arms seemed imminent, when a venerable Andalusian sheik, riding up, transfixed the unhappy cause of the dispute between the shoulders with his lance, exclaiming, “God forbid that so many good Mussulmans should shed their blood for the sake of a Christian dog!” The head and the right hand of the Archbishop, embalmed with camphor, were preserved as revolting but significant trophies of victory; the episcopal crosier and the ring of investiture, sanctified by the blessing of the Holy Father himself, became the treasured spoil of the infidel, and the Christians, depressed by the triumphs of the enemy and by the loss of their general, were unable to retrieve the disaster, whose report carried sorrow into every Catholic community in Europe.

Every circumstance seemed at this time favorable to the success of the Moslem arms. The infante, Don Ferdinand, heir apparent to the Castilian crown, died suddenly while marching southward to engage the enemy. His death encouraged the agitation of quarrels and intrigues between the princes of the blood and the nobility. The Christians, warned by past reverses, hesitated to meet their formidable adversaries in the field. The harsh policy originally adopted by the Castilian conquerors now demonstrated its wisdom. The Moors had been driven from the great cities. In every place of importance the Christian population predominated. The invaders could make no impression upon fortified towns, and their sympathizing countrymen, who remained within their walls, dared not afford them the least information or assistance. The campaign ended in ignominious failure. The Africans, having retired to Algeziras, soon experienced the tortures of famine. A Castilian squadron, cruising along the coast, prevented an inglorious retreat, and an enterprise which seemed at first to offer a not improbable prospect of the restoration of Moslem supremacy was frustrated by the indecision and discord of rival commanders. The weakness of one party and the necessities of the other promoted a mutual desire for peace, and a treaty, from whose benefits the Moslem princes of Andalusia, to whose representations was to be attributed the renewal of hostilities which had so seriously affected the Christian power, were tacitly excluded, was negotiated between Alfonso and the Sultan. The Africans were then permitted to retire, and the Andalusians hastened to renew an allegiance solely based upon considerations of present expediency, assumed and renounced with equal facility and unconcern. From time to time, during the reign of Alfonso X., the peace of the kingdom of Castile was disturbed by the determined enmity of the Emir of Granada. The efforts of that prince were, however, mainly confined to the temporary and local injuries incident to the operations of guerilla warfare.

The siege of Algeziras, which, with Tarifa, had been ceded by Mohammed II. to the Sultan of Morocco, was undertaken by the Castilians, who, through the negligence of the authorities and the demoralization consequent on a lamentable want of discipline, were compelled to abandon their position with the loss of their ships and the capture of their admiral. The arms of the Christians were then turned against the Moslems of Granada. The general result of the campaign was favorable to the latter, but the devastation of the rich plantations of the Vega more than counterbalanced the brilliant but costly honors of military success, and hostilities were suspended by common consent, only to be renewed at a more advantageous opportunity. The declining years of Alfonso were harassed by the ambition and disobedience of his son. The aid of the Sultan, moved by the wretchedness of his former adversary, was solicited and granted; but a few indecisive encounters, followed by the sudden withdrawal of the Africans, were the only fruits of this precarious and impolitic alliance, regarded with horror by the clergy and with suspicion and disfavor by even the most ardent partisans of the Castilian king.

The reign of Alfonso X., whose well-known title EL Sabio, The Learned, would have rendered him illustrious even in a more intelligent and a less warlike age, is a shining landmark amidst the intellectual desolation of the thirteenth century. His education, his associations, his tastes, and his habits had preserved him, in a great degree, from the contaminating and degrading influences which warped the intellect and perverted the impulses of the greatest statesmen and warriors of the time. Excelling in every art save that of war, which, unfortunately for him, was at that epoch the only title to popular respect and honorable distinction, his career presents a remarkable contrast to that of his father, St. Ferdinand, whose acquirements were confined to the military profession, whose life was an incessant struggle with the infidel, and whose devotion to the interests of the Church has been rewarded by his exaltation to the more than regal dignity of intercessor for the prostrate suppliant at the Throne of God. The age of ignorance in which the lot of Alfonso X. was cast could not appreciate or comprehend the necessity for, or the advantages of, literary or scientific attainments. The ecclesiastic did the thinking for the multitude. His knowledge seldom extended beyond the contents of his breviary. In his narrow mind association with infidels was the blackest of crimes, only to be expiated by arduous penance and liberal contributions. The whole career of this prince disclosed his political incapacity and his disinclination to adapt his conduct to the circumstances which environed him. He received from his father the heritage of a great but unformed empire. Insulted by the nobles, distrusted by the multitude, maligned by the clergy, and despoiled by his sons, he died without the possession and almost without the semblance of royal power. His naturally pacific disposition brought upon him the censure of a nation whose traditions for centuries had been derived from crusade and conquest. His enmity to the Emir of Granada was never sufficiently intense to exclude from his society the Moslem philosophers, physicians, and astronomers who shared his friendship and enjoyed his bounty. The scowling priest eyed askance the swarthy faces and flowing robes of the infidel strangers, who, protected by royal authority, frequented without molestation the observatories of Cordova and the libraries of Seville and Toledo. In the minds of the superstitious ecclesiastics they were magicians, who, in league with evil spirits, performed in the secret recesses of the palace infernal rites and diabolical sacrifices. The intimacy of the King with these accomplished scholars was considered a reproach, an act to be condemned by every devout and zealous Christian. The orthodoxy of Alfonso received a final blow when he required the clergy, who monopolized the most profitable sources of revenue of the kingdom, to contribute to the support of the government and to the expenses incurred during the Moorish wars.

In all the literary productions of the reign of Alfonso X. is to be readily discerned the influence of his enlightened neighbors, the Moslems of Granada. His astronomical tables—a prodigy of scientific knowledge and accuracy, considering the era in which they were compiled—were the work of fifty astronomers, the majority of whom were Moors and Jews; the time occupied in their arrangement and calculation extended over several years, and their cost aroused the pharisaical indignation of the clergy, who saw the revenues of the crown diverted for sacrilegious purposes from the control of the orthodox to the profit of the infidel and the heretic. This monument of erudition, still regarded with wonder and respect by the learned, would alone have been sufficient to establish the fame of its royal promoter; but numerous other works of scarcely less importance survive to attest his patronage of letters. The Coronica General de España, composed by his own hand; the Cantigas, poems in honor of the Virgin; the Siete Partidas, a comprehensive code of laws which has been extensively used in the classification and compilation of subsequent systems of jurisprudence; the Del Tesoro, a book on the transmutation of metals,—all demonstrate the extent of his information, the tirelessness of his industry, and the fertility of his genius. Perhaps the greatest of his achievements was the legal adoption of a provincial dialect in public documents, which time and practice developed into the musical and sonorous Castilian language. His devotion to literature was only exceeded by the admiration he entertained for its professors. He endowed with rich estates many chairs in the University of Salamanca. He elevated judges eminent for legal attainments to aristocratic rank. Ever ready to recognize his obligations to his early instructors and his recent friends, he bestowed honor, wealth, distinction upon all scholars, irrespective of nationality or creed. The Moors were always the objects of his especial favor. To their inspiration he was indebted for the noble impulse and example which had first directed his attention to learning; through their teachings he had imbibed the maxims of justice and wisdom; from their labors he was to derive, in coming centuries, the greatest credit and most enduring glory of his reign. The Moorish financier was not infrequently intrusted with the collection and expenditure of the revenues; the Moorish physician was a prominent figure at the Castilian court, where even the luxurious prelate, abominating the meagre fare of the cloister, did not hesitate to intrust his sacred person to his care; the Moorish professor domiciled in the palaces of the aristocracy directed the education of the most illustrious of the Castilian youth. Well was it for King Alfonso that the Church had not yet attained that position of security and power which justified the exertion of force for the maintenance and extension of its rule. But even in the subordinate relation it sustained to the state, in comparison with the prestige attaching to military success, its influence was well to be dreaded. It was the intrigues of the clergy appealing to the hereditary and martial pride of the nobles and inflaming the discontent of the people that promoted the unworthy ambition of Don Sancho, thus weakening the regal authority, anticipating the succession, and degrading the dignity of the throne. The implacable spirit of religious hatred was not yet strong enough to send its victims to the stake, confiscate their property, and brand their names with infamy; but it was able to interfere successfully in political affairs, and to humiliate a sovereign whose chief offences were that he had patronized profane learning, lived in intimacy with infidels, and, worst of all, extorted from the Church a portion of its wealth for the defence of his kingdom and the preservation of public security.

The news of the death of Alfonso X. was received with every manifestation of sorrow and regret throughout the Moorish dominions. The Emirs of Granada and Morocco hastened to send embassies to his successor, Sancho el Bravo, to tender condolence and solicit the continuance of peace and national friendship. To the compliments and sympathy of the former he returned a courteous but ambiguous answer, but the envoys of the Emir of Morocco were insulted with a message of defiance. Justly incensed by this treatment, the Emir Abu-Yusuf prepared for war. A considerable body of troops under his son Yakub was despatched across the strait, and Xerez was besieged. The approach of a great Castilian army caused the retreat of the invaders, and a truce for three years was agreed upon, for which the African prince paid two million maravedis of gold.

The new king was the moral antipodes of his father. His title, El Bravo, gained in battle while prince, indicated his claim to the respect and admiration of his subjects. Ignorant, bigoted, and cruel, he represented in every respect the spirit and aspirations of the age in which he lived. His dominating impulse was the love of war. He drove from the court the Moorish savants whose relations with Alfonso X. had brought suspicion on his orthodoxy and scandal on his name. The clergy, partly on account of the aid they had contributed to the faction of Sancho, but principally because they alone, of the different orders of the state, possessed the requisite knowledge and ability, were intrusted with the collection of tribute and the management of the royal treasury. But while the King favored the ecclesiastic, he jealously guarded the privileges of the nobility and the prerogatives of the crown. The highest rewards were reserved for military prowess. The pursuits of literature were discouraged and neglected. The intellectual development of the nation, begun under such happy auspices by Alfonso X., was arrested, never again to be revived, and soon to be absolutely crushed by theological intolerance and inquisitorial tyranny.

The enterprising genius of Sancho, occupied by internal disturbances, was not exerted against his African enemy until seven years had elapsed after the signing of the truce. Then a quarrel between Yusuf-Abu-Yakub and Mohammed II., again the ally of Castile, afforded a pretext for interference. The city of Tarifa, inferior only in strategical importance to Algeziras and Gibraltar, was taken from the Africans. Its defences were repaired, and it was garrisoned by a strong force commanded by Alfonso Perez de Guzman, a soldier of fortune, who had amassed great wealth in the service of the Emir of Morocco, and to whom the modern princely house of Medina-Sidonia owes its origin and much of its renown. A year afterwards the Infante Don Juan, brother of the King, after an unsuccessful attempt to seize the throne, fled to the court of the Emir of Morocco. Received with honor and intrusted with a force of five thousand African cavalry, he undertook to reduce Tarifa. The governor treated with defiance the demand of surrender. His son, a youth of tender years, had been captured by the enemy, and, with the expectation that paternal tenderness would prove stronger than loyalty to his country, the Infante sent word to the Castilian commander that unless he immediately evacuated the city the boy’s life would be sacrificed. The intrepid governor, in reply, cast a sword from the battlements; the unfortunate youth was decapitated, and his head shot into the town from a catapult. This inhuman action committed by a Christian prince, which indicates the barbarous character of the warfare pursued in those times, was as unwise as it was unpardonable; far from being intimidated, the garrison was impelled by horror and resentment to resist more vigorously, and the siege was soon raised by the approach of an army of Castilians and Moors.

The precarious alliance between Christian and Moslem, whose conditions were almost always unfavorable to the latter, not long afterwards sustained another rupture. Involved in a serious controversy with the nobles, who, rendered more arrogant by the increased importance they had acquired in the beginning of the present reign, menaced the security of the throne, Sancho, unable to protect his frontiers, saw them desolated with impunity by the cavalry of Mohammed, who had taken advantage of the embarrassment of his enemy to again inaugurate hostilities. Appeasing by timely concessions the discontent of his vassals, the King of Castile marched into Granada; stormed Quesada and Alcaudete, whose inhabitants he massacred without pity; spread devastation over the surrounding country, and, with a long train of captives and much booty, returned to his dominions. This exploit was the final one of his career. Consumed by a lingering and painful disease, he died, leaving to his infant heir an inheritance of domestic trouble and an unstable throne, which even monarchs of mature age and great experience had found it a difficult task to defend.

The minority of an infant prince, the difficulties of a disputed regency, the feuds of a jealous aristocracy, the intrigues of rival pretenders, and the murmurs of a discontented populace—always the victims of the quarrels, the triumphs, or the misfortunes of their superiors—afforded a tempting opportunity to the Emir of Granada, of which he was not slow to take advantage. His preparations completed, he first recaptured the towns lost in the last expedition, and retaliated on the unfortunate garrisons the treatment which his own subjects had received.

Flushed with success, he overran almost the whole of Andalusia, burnt the suburbs of many cities, stormed the castle of Belmar, and threatened Jaen and Tarifa. The unprofitable experience of the Emir of Morocco with his dependencies in Spain induced him to offer to Mohammed the fortress of Algeziras, for which he received a hundred thousand mithcals of gold.

Mohammed II. did not long survive his last and greatest foray. He is said to have died while in the performance of his devotions; his reign of thirty years is one of the most important of the time, and his kingdom, consolidated alike by his victories and the reverses sustained by his neighbors, who by tens of thousands settled in his dominions, descended to his son Mohammed III., a prince whose character and accomplishments were not inferior to his distinguished lineage. His administration—a series of disasters, conspiracies, and assassinations—he made illustrious by his love of erudition, his encouragement of the arts, and the embellishment of his capital. His industry was so great that he prolonged far into the night the unfinished business of the day. He displayed great vigor in crushing the rebellious spirit of the wali of Guadix, who refused to recognize his authority. By the capture of Ceuta he obtained a great treasure, which he worthily expended in the improvement of his kingdom. Among the buildings constructed by its aid were numbered the Great Mosque and the principal public bath of the city. The mosque, upon whose site now stands the cathedral of Granada, was famous for its magnificent columns of marble and jasper, its ornamentation of fretted silver, and its brilliant and intricate mosaics. An additional tax for the support of the bath, which scarcely yielded to the mosque in expense of materials and beauty of design, was levied upon the Jews and Christians, who were thus compelled to contribute to the revenues of an institution connected with the worship of their infidel masters, and one to which the latter sect had always exhibited a decided and unconquerable aversion.

In 1305, Suleyman-Ibn-Rabich, wali of Almeria, instigated by the Aragonese, aspired to independence. Seized before his plans were matured, he escaped with difficulty to the court of Barcelona. An understanding having been perfected between the Kings of Castile and Aragon, simultaneous attacks were made upon the Moorish dominions. A powerful Aragonese fleet and army appeared before Almeria and invested it by land and sea. At the same time the forces of Castile laid siege to Algeziras, which Mohammed endeavored to relieve, but was prevented by a succession of destructive tempests and floods.

Informed of the weak condition of Gibraltar, a body of troops was detached from the army besieging Algeziras to surprise it. The attempt was successful; by the aid of cannon a breach was opened; the defences were stormed, and the famous fortress whose Moslem occupation dated from the invasion of Tarik passed for the time from the hands of the Saracens, by whom it was commonly regarded as the key of the Peninsula.

The siege of Algeziras was now pushed with increased vigor, and Mohammed, apprehensive of the results of the Aragonese invasion as well as of a conspiracy formed by malcontents in his own capital, offered proposals for peace. His overtures were heard with attention, but important and degrading concessions were demanded by the victorious enemy, who, well aware of the extremity to which the garrison was reduced, determined to exact an enormous compensation for raising the siege. No alternative but acceptance remained for the unfortunate Emir. The frontier towns of Quesada, Bedmar, Quadros were surrendered as an equivalent for the continued possession of Algeziras, and the Moorish inhabitants retired. Their houses were occupied by Christian colonists, the fruits of the last victorious campaign of Mohammed II. were lost, and the humiliated sovereign returned to his capital amidst the whispered murmurs of the nobility and the public execration of an exasperated populace. He had now to confront a new peril, more to be feared than the weapons of an enterprising and courageous enemy.

The court had long been distracted by the intrigues of the rival viziers, Abu-Sultan-Aziz, who had been the trusted councillor of Mohammed II., and Abd-al-Rahman-al-Ramedy, the favorite of the present emir, who had profited by his opportunities to amass a great fortune, enabling him to display an ostentation offensive to the pride of the nobles and arousing the envy of the people. The growing unpopularity of Mohammed III., his failing eyesight,—the result of immoderate sensuality,—his enforced surrender of the territory acquired by the talents of his father, and the universal hatred of his arrogant minister culminated in an attack upon the throne. His uncle, Al-Nazer, was proclaimed by the mob of Granada, which, suddenly rising in arms, pillaged the palace of the detested vizier and murdered him in the presence of his master. In the midst of the tumult, the Emir was confronted by the leaders of the revolt, who offered him the alternative of abdication or death. Forced to divest himself of the insignia of royal authority, the deposed sovereign was imprisoned in the fortress of Almuñecar, where for five years he languished in solitude and wretchedness.

The Moorish chroniclers paint in the most glowing colors the virtues, the talents, the accomplishments of Al-Nazer. In him the fortuitous advantages of birth and comeliness were far surpassed by noble and brilliant qualities of mind. His courteous condescension and the charming affability of his manners endeared him to his subjects, while his erudition and taste for scientific pursuits made him the welcome associate of the learned and philosophical society of the capital. His opinions had been formed and his education conducted under the most famous professors of the age. An excellent mathematician, an experienced astronomer, he had calculated and drawn up astronomical tables not inferior in accuracy to those executed by the chosen scholars acting under the directions of Alfonso X. With a special bent for mechanics, he designed and constructed a curious clock, whose complex and perfect mechanism surprised and delighted even those familiar with the capabilities of his inventive genius. Under his liberal and discerning protection, literature and the elegant arts received a new and enduring importance; institutions of learning were multiplied, innumerable philosophical and scientific works were issued, the physicians and pharmacists of Granada, already famous in Europe for their skill, acquired new laurels in the distant empires of Africa and Asia, and the public and private edifices of the capital began to assume that distinctive character of architectural symmetry and elegance which subsequently enabled it to attain to an unrivalled eminence among the cities of the mediæval world.

On learning of the revolution by which Mohammed had been deposed, Ferdinand IV. marched against the usurper, and sent reinforcements to Jaime II., who, separated from his base of supplies, harassed by an active and vigilant enemy, and drenched by storms and inundations, still obstinately maintained his ground before the walls of Almeria. In the mean time, the troubles incident to a title acquired by sedition and violence afflicted the new emir. His nephew, born and bred amidst insurrection, tried unsuccessfully to seize the crown, and, having fled to Malaga, was protected by his father, wali of that city, himself not destitute of royal aspirations. A sudden attack of illness having given rise to a rumor of the death of Al-Nazer, the partisans of Mohammed III. assembled, rescued him from his prison in Almuñecar, and escorted him with every token of ostentatious loyalty to the capital. On their arrival, they perceived with surprise that the city was illuminated, the streets were full of people in holiday garb, the shops were closed, the houses decorated with flowers, and everything bore the appearance of a public festival. An inquiry revealed the fact that the illness of the Emir had in reality been but trifling and temporary, and that these manifestations of popular satisfaction were caused by his unexpected recovery. It required all the astuteness and ingenuity of the banished prince to frame an excuse for his sudden appearance at the head of a royal escort, but the wily Mohammed did not shrink from the responsibility. After proffering his congratulations, he announced that he had merely come to inquire after the health of his uncle—an explanation which was received by Al-Nazer with outward respect and secret indignation. Dissembling his resentment, he ordered the crestfallen Mohammed to be taken back to his prison, where the enthusiastic partisans who had prematurely espoused his cause were forced to share his captivity.

The sudden death of Ferdinand IV., which took place during an expedition into the province of Jaen, left the destinies of the Castilian monarchy in the hands of an infant of thirteen months, who afterwards became king under the name of Alfonso XI., offered new temptations to rival aspirants to the regency, removed the salutary restraints of law, and abandoned whole districts to anarchy. Civil war raged between the numerous factions into which the nobility was divided—the weaker being often exterminated and their possessions confiscated by the victors; cavaliers of noble birth and distinguished ancestry embraced the profession of robbery; to travel without an armed escort was to invite certain destruction; the roads were encumbered with naked and festering corpses; unfortified towns were deserted, and the castles were occupied by aristocratic highwaymen, who, at the head of bands of adventurers of merciless character and desperate fortunes, swept into their inaccessible strongholds the merchandise of the trader, the effects of the traveller, and the harvests, the flocks, and the children of the shepherd and the husbandman. Existence was impossible without the protection of some powerful noble, whose livery was to one faction an object of respect and to all others a symbol of irreconcilable enmity.

Nor was the spirit of discord which infected every class of society more considerate of the rights and authority of the sovereign. The ministers of justice were ridiculed and defied, and the will of the most powerful chieftain in the locality where he was obeyed was practically the law of the land. Superstitious awe and the venerable traditions of the Church, for the most part, preserved intact her princely possessions, but during the disastrous turbulence of the period the defenceless ecclesiastic not infrequently paid tribute to the outlaw, and the mitre fared sometimes even worse than the crown.

A country abandoned to violence must necessarily soon be depopulated. Once fertile and highly cultivated regions became a desert, forests sprang up on the sites of deserted hamlets, the commerce of great cities disappeared, intercommunication of adjoining provinces was entirely suspended, heirs of magnificent estates renounced their patrimony, and the sense of public insecurity was so universal that thousands of families in every part of the kingdom sought refuge from their countrymen in the more peaceful states of Portugal and Aragon. Such were the conditions which afforded another respite to the Emirate of Granada, whose existence was thus continually prolonged by the dissensions and the weakness of its barbarous neighbors.

The manifestations of disloyalty and turbulence which thus afflicted the kingdom of Castile were repeated in Granada, without, however, producing the same destructive and permanent effects upon the authority of the government or the welfare of the nation. The successful usurpation of Al-Nazer, demonstrating the weakness of hereditary attachments and the facility with which an unpopular sovereign might be deposed, was an example not lost upon the adventurous and aspiring Moorish nobles. The death of Mohammed III., which occurred a few months after his return to Almuñecar, relieved Al-Nazer from all apprehensions of a rival, who, if not formidable through his talents and influence, had at least a legitimate claim upon the throne and a share of the public sympathy, which is always aroused by the sight of royal humiliation and of greatness in distress. But there soon arose a far more dangerous enemy of the peace of Al-Nazer. Secure from Christian interference,—for he had concluded a truce with the regents of Castile,—he was employing his leisure in the elegant amusements of the court, when his nephew Abu-al-Walid, also called Ismail by the Moslem historians, fomented a second insurrection, this time with greater success. The avarice of an unpopular vizier was again made the pretext for sedition. The populace was instigated by the emissaries and corrupted by the gold of Abu-al-Walid, the promised dismissal of the obnoxious minister was deferred, and, supported by a formidable army, the young prince advanced on Granada. The numbers of his force increased as he approached the city, when his adherents rose and drove the Emir into the Alhambra, where he was at once besieged. In his extremity, the latter implored the aid of the Castilian regents, the Infantes Don Pedro and Don Juan; but, before they could assemble their troops, the defection of his partisans induced him to abdicate and to accept, in return for this concession, the government of the insignificant principality of Guadix. An attempt to revive the fallen fortunes of Al-Nazer, projected by the regents of Castile, resulted in a fatal disaster to the Christian arms. The invaders, encompassed by a multitude of Moslems, were cut to pieces on the slope of the Sierra Elvira, where the flower of the Spanish chivalry, who had joined the enterprise, animated by religious enthusiasm and the expectation of booty and renown, was annihilated. After the battle the bodies of the two princes were found under heaps of fallen enemies, and the condition of the Castilian monarchy, deprived at one blow of its legal protectors, became more desperate than ever. This great victory was not less remarkable for its political results than for the spoil obtained by the Moors. Forty-three thousand pounds of gold, fourteen hundred of silver, and seven thousand prisoners fell into their hands. The skin of Don Pedro, stuffed with cotton, was suspended before the principal gate of Granada, where it remained for many years. Twenty-five princes of the blood—heads of the most noble houses of the Peninsula—were killed in the action. The prestige of Ismail was greatly increased by this important victory. His military ambition was inflamed by success. He surprised some isolated castles and took others by assault, the spoils of the frontier were swept away by sudden incursions, and the borders of Aragon, long exempt from the dreaded visitations of the Arab horsemen, experienced once more the ruinous effects of their audacity and valor.

Through detailed information furnished by spies and merchants, the feuds and intrigues of the Castilian court, distracted by the weakness of the crown and the unprincipled ambition of the nobles, were as well known at Granada as in the council chambers of Toledo and Seville. Successful in his marauding expeditions, Ismail now directed his attention to projects of greater importance, whose accomplishment was certain to produce a substantial and permanent accession to the territory and wealth of his kingdom. Provided with every appliance at that time known to warfare, he laid siege to the important and well-fortified city of Baza, June 23, 13824. Its situation, strong by nature, had been rendered doubly formidable by art. The genius of the Moor, whose confidence was placed in the swift and unexpected movements of his cavalry, had hitherto not exhibited the patience and endurance necessary for the successful prosecution of besieging operations. But under the skilful dispositions of Ismail, the investment of Baza was made with all the thoroughness and deliberation which characterize the movements of the accomplished military engineer. A ditch was excavated, a rampart was thrown up, and all intercourse with the surrounding country intercepted. The inhabitants, confident in the security of their massive fortifications, viewed with curiosity rather than apprehension the mounting of a number of strange but apparently harmless machines before the walls. These appeared to consist of segmented bars of iron united by heavy hoops of the same metal. Dragged from place to place by means of ropes, their immense weight was indicated by the number of men it took to move them; they evidently contained no apparatus for missiles like the familiar balista or catapult, and their use was a mystery to the unconcerned inhabitants. But suddenly from the mouths of these apparently innocuous engines issued great bursts of flame and smoke, accompanied by a roar that rivalled that of the thunderbolt, and ponderous balls of stone and of iron, hurled into the city, crushing and splintering everything in their path, announced what has been erroneously stated as the first use of artillery in the wars of Europe. Against the force of these projectiles, whose novelty increased the terror their destruction inspired, the boasted strength of the defences and the courage of the garrison availed nothing. Great breaches soon appeared in the walls, and with the towers crumbling over their heads and many of their houses in flames, the panic-stricken citizens of Baza, by a timely surrender, succeeded in saving their city from pillage.

During the following year Martos experienced a similar fate, but its resistance was more obstinate, and the exasperated Moslems, entering the town by storm, massacred the inhabitants to a man. The prayers enjoined by the Koran were offered by the victors kneeling upon pavements reeking with the blood of the slain; the peasants, for a distance of many miles, were driven away into captivity; innumerable flocks and herds attested the activity of the Arab cavalry; and Ismail retraced his steps to his capital, which he entered with all the pomp of a conqueror. It was long since Granada had witnessed such a scene or extended such a welcome at the return of a victorious army. The streets were carpeted with flowers. Tapestries and hangings of silk and cloth-of-gold were suspended from the balconies. The air was fragrant with perfumes wafted from hundreds of censers. The beautiful city, given over to a holiday, had sent forth its entire population to celebrate the triumph of its sovereign. The acclamations of the people, rising in a prolonged and deafening roar, were heard beyond the walls. Vast throngs in holiday dress blocked the narrow thoroughfares. Peasants in the picturesque costumes of the Vega, sturdy mountaineers from the Sierra Nevada and the Alpujarras, the taciturn Jew in the distinctive yellow gaberdine of his sect, the pilgrim of Mecca clad in green, the cavalier in helmet and cuirass inlaid with gold, the ladies in gaudy silks and gleaming jewels, whose splendor contributed little to the native charms of their voluptuous beauty, enhanced the variety and charm of the spectacle.

But a threatening cloud, the more dangerous because unseen, hung over this gorgeous festival, which seemed to promise a long life of honor and renown to the recipient of a nation’s applause and gratitude. Three days after his triumph Ismail lay a corpse in the palace of the Alhambra.

Among the captives taken in the campaign of Martos was a girl of dazzling beauty. Her possession was disputed by several soldiers, whose hands, bloody with the carnage of a city taken by storm, were about to sacrifice her, when she was rescued by Mohammed-Ibn-Ismail, a cousin of the Emir. No sooner had the latter learned of the occurrence and of the extraordinary charms of the captive than he despatched the eunuchs to conduct her to the royal harem. The just remonstrances of Mohammed were treated with contempt. Not satisfied with the injury he had inflicted, Ismail ordered his cousin to leave the precincts of the court, and curtly informed him that his proper place was with the enemies of his sovereign. The exasperated prince, who had already signalized his valor in many a campaign, whose blood had been shed in defence of his country, whose birth exalted him to a level with the throne itself, and whose sense of justice revolted at the unprovoked outrage he had endured, had no inconsiderable following among the dignitaries of the palace and the officers of the army.

A few hours sufficed to mature a plot; the support of Othman, commander of the royal guard, was obtained, and the conspirators only awaited a moment favorable to the execution of their design. The Emir, walking with his vizier in the gallery of the Alhambra and wholly unsuspicious of danger, was stabbed by Mohammed; the resolute defence of the minister availed nothing in the face of superior numbers, and he perished by the side of his master, while the assassins, who had previously provided means of concealment, escaped in the general confusion.

The wounded monarch was borne into the palace, where he soon expired. His death was concealed—his injuries were even represented as trifling—until, in anticipation of a fatal result and to secure the succession, allegiance was sworn to his son, a youth of twelve years, who ascended the throne under the name of Mohammed IV. The diligence of the second vizier apprehended a number of the conspirators, whose heads were exposed on the battlements of the castle. The treacherous Othman was foremost in protestations of loyalty and devotion to the new ruler. The chief assassin fled to Malaga, and the ill-concerted and bloody enterprise dictated by wrong and accomplished by cowardice was productive of no other result than a change of rulers and an increased public attachment to the family of the murdered king.

The character of the latter was worthy of the great place he occupied and of the glorious traditions of his dynasty. His personal courage and success in war won for him the affectionate admiration of his people. His intervals of peace were diligently employed in the construction of mosques and palaces, of baths and fountains. He exercised with liberality and discrimination the distribution of alms, as enjoined by the Koran. The hanging gardens planted under his supervision were copied from those of ancient Babylon. The police regulations inaugurated by him established the safety of the streets and suburbs by day and night; for the better apportionment and collection of taxes the cities were divided into different quarters, and the alien tributaries designated by distinctive costumes. He sternly repressed the fanaticism of the theologians, ever a prolific source of public anxiety, disturbance, and confusion. The leisure moments of Ismail were passed in the society of the learned, in the tournament and the chase, in the pleasures of horticulture, in the construction of magnificent edifices.

The youth and inexperience of Mohammed IV. were supplied by the political sagacity of his vizier Al-Mahruk, a man of ability but of inordinate ambition, and absolutely unscrupulous in the means of gratifying it. His policy, solely directed to the centralization of power in himself, was the ultimate cause of his destruction. He lost no opportunity to humiliate the nobles. The brothers of the Emir were, in turn, removed from the court; one, upon some frivolous pretext, was imprisoned in Almeria, where he died; another was exiled to Africa; a third was forced to seek concealment in a remote village on the frontier. The jealous intolerance of the vizier endeavored to remove every possibility of a successful rival. The possession of eminent talents and virtues was a provocation of oppression; the most able and experienced statesmen and commanders, apprehensive of violence, left the capital, and a feeling of alarm and discontent became general in every quarter of the kingdom.

This state of affairs, so dangerous to the stability of government and the maintenance of peace, lasted until the young prince arrived at the age of sixteen years, when Moslem custom permitted his assumption of the reins of government. One of his first acts was the degradation and imprisonment of the obnoxious minister. In his place was appointed Ibn-Yahya, who enjoyed the respect and confidence of all classes, and whose judicious counsels were well calculated to guide the career of a young, ambitious, and inexperienced sovereign. Othman, the former commander of the royal guard, whom disappointed ambition, a consciousness of guilt, and the fear of detection had driven from Granada, now planned a new enterprise to retrieve his fallen fortunes. At his instigation the peasantry of the rugged district of Andarax rose in rebellion. The insurgents were defeated by the forces of the Emir, but the mountainous region they infested, and whose fastnesses the royal troops were unable to penetrate, prevented their dispersion. The intrigues of Othman obtained at once the interference of the Castilians and of the Emir of Morocco. Again the aid of foreign enemies was invoked to revive the hopes of a defeated faction; the patriotic ardor which might have preserved the declining empire was sacrificed to the gratification of private resentment; and the ablest of the Moors, unwilling to profit by the melancholy lessons taught by the history of the khalifate, renounced every noble impulse for the sake of avenging their private injuries.

In the vicinity of Cordova the army of Mohammed sustained a disastrous defeat; the survivors retreated to Granada; and the Emir, infuriated by the reflection that the imprisoned vizier Al-Mahruk was indirectly responsible for the misfortunes which afflicted the commencement of his reign, commanded his immediate execution. The efforts of Mohammed to counteract the African influence enlisted by the rebels met with no better success. Algeziras was stormed and taken, and the vizier Ibn-Yahya was killed in the assault. Ronda and Marbella fell into the hands of the rebels, who soon threatened the city of Granada itself. Consternation seized the inhabitants of the capital; and Mohammed, assembling the remains of his defeated army and attended by the principal cavaliers of the court, went forth to meet the enemy. Gallantly seconded by his nobles, at the head of a force insignificant in numbers but remarkable for courage and resolution, he speedily recovered his prestige and his influence. All the cities captured by the Africans were retaken. The stronghold of Baena surrendered. The walls of Casares were destroyed by artillery. Within sight of the latter city the Moslems, in a bloody encounter, destroyed a Christian force sent to relieve it. Thus, within the space of a few months, Mohammed counteracted the effect of the recent disasters to his arms, restored to his dominions the territory of which treason had deprived him, and acquired new renown by a victory gained over an army superior in numbers and thoroughly versed in all the stratagems and resources of regular and partisan warfare. These military exploits firmly established his reputation. No prince of the Alhamares, of his years, ever achieved such celebrity. Nature had bestowed upon him every gift of mind and person which could elicit the approbation of the wise or arouse the enthusiasm of the multitude. His face was handsome, his stature above the middle height, his limbs models of athletic symmetry. Skilled in every exercise, he delighted in those passages of arms so popular among the Moorish chivalry. Prominent in a nation of bold and dexterous horsemen, he was universally accounted the finest lance in the Moslem army. Grave in demeanor, pleasing in address, elegant in manners, his attractive exterior only served to enhance the noble traits of a virtuous and enlightened mind. He was a friend of letters; and learned men accompanied him during his expeditions, who could observe the course of events and perpetuate the remembrance of such facts as might contribute to the profit of the country and the glory of its king.

In the ever-changing panorama of the Reconquest there frequently appears the Moslem of Africa, descendant of the Almoravide or the Almohade dynasties; proud of the fame of his ancestors, and perpetual claimant of the legacy of their valor; as ambitious of the regaining of Cordova and the purification of its desecrated temple as were his contemporaries, the crusaders, of the conquest of Jerusalem and the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre. The Emirs of Fez, of the family of the Merynites, had risen to great distinction among the rulers of Africa. Their dominions included the entire northern portion of that continent. Their capital was the resort of all that was intelligent and accomplished among the Mussulman nations. In the incessant political disorders of the Peninsula, hundreds of merchants, scholars, philosophers, had sought amidst the quiet and security of distant regions that refuge from incessant revolution and Castilian conquest no longer to be enjoyed at Granada. Not a few of these found their way to Fez. Picturesque in its situation, the taste and liberality of its rulers had made it a beautiful city. Its gardens, planted with every variety of tropical plants and flowers, and refreshed by innumerable fountains, offered a vision of Paradise to the tired and thirsty wayfarer who had toiled for many leagues through the stifling heat and drifting sands of the desert. A high degree of civilization had been attained by the people of Morocco, who, with the natural inclination of the Arab mind to scientific investigation and mathematical studies, had made considerable progress in astronomy, chemistry, botany, and medicine. Their efforts were materially aided by the precious manuscripts once part of the great library of the khalifs, and the treasures of private collections rescued from barbarian ignorance and Christian bigotry during the destruction of the Ommeyade empire. To Fez, where it was revered as a priceless relic, and where perhaps to this day it is still preserved, was transported by the Almohades the famous Koran, partly written by the hand of the martyred Othman, which was formerly exposed for the veneration of the faithful in the Kiblah of the Great Mosque of Cordova. Heedless of the change in national conditions, of the decline of religious enthusiasm, of the decay of that martial spirit which renders the fanatical soldier invincible, the Emirs of Morocco never lost sight of their favorite project, the recovery of Spain. Their repeated efforts for that end were rendered inoperative by the religious feuds between their subjects and the Andalusian Moslems; the resources of both kingdoms, which might have been profitably exerted against the infidel, were wasted in the infliction of mutual injuries; and the Castilian sovereigns, taking advantage alternately of the animosities of either faction as best suited their purposes, directed their arms against each other for their common ruin.

In the year 1333, a body of Moorish cavalry, seven thousand strong, under command of Abd-al-Melik, a prince of the blood, disembarked at Algeziras. Invited by the rebels of Granada, and expected to unite with the Castilian forces against Mohammed, their operations were begun in an unexpected quarter. With a celerity that indicated the previous arrangement of a well-conceived campaign, the invaders and their countrymen of Algeziras invested Gibraltar. Considering the defences of that fortress, greatly improved since the Castilian occupation, the enterprise seemed hopeless. But either through the peculations of the governor or from neglect of the court to provide the garrison with supplies, the place was in a few weeks reduced to the greatest distress. Deprived of all ordinary means of sustenance, the hungry soldiers devoured the leather of their belts and bucklers. When too late, the difficulty of the situation was realized. The selfish and tyrannical policy of Alfonso XI. had alienated the attachment of his subjects. The voluptuous King had lingered too long in the arms of his mistresses, and the pugnacious nobility were engaged in gratifying their hereditary grudges in the congenial occupation of private war. Official incompetence and delay had prepared the way for great disasters. The African fleet commanded the sea. No force available by the Christians could dislodge from its intrenchments the well-appointed army of Abd-al-Melik, with success within its grasp. The Castilian princes, as well as the nobles, listened with haughty indifference to the patriotic appeals of their sovereign. So low had the royal authority fallen that some cavaliers of the highest rank disregarded the peremptory messages of the crown; others demanded compensation for contributing to the defence of their country. Alfonso, abandoned by the nobles, found his only reliance in the uncertain and selfish adherence of foreign soldiers of fortune, attracted to Spain by the expectation of plunder; and in the co-operation of the grand-masters of the military orders, who, compelled by their vows, furnished a lukewarm and reluctant support to the throne. Long before the Castilian army could arrive at Gibraltar, messengers brought the unwelcome news of its surrender. The standards of the Prophet were raised, amid the acclamations of the soldiery, upon the highest point of the citadel, and the African vessels occupied the harbor. The garrison was suffered to retire with the honors of war, and the exultant Moslems, intoxicated by victory, already pictured to themselves the speedy recovery of the seats of their ancestors and the revival of the ancient glories of the khalifate.

The King of Castile, convinced that the Moors were not firmly enough established in their new conquest to maintain a siege, pushed forward to Gibraltar. Harassed by the enemy’s cavalry, his force reached its destination after many conflicts of doubtful issue and unimportant results, and the Africans were, in their turn, besieged. In their exposed situation, with a vigilant enemy in their rear and the sea patrolled by the African fleet, the Castilians endured unspeakable hardships. The day was one incessant conflict, the night a succession of alarms. The convoys were intercepted. Famine, with its attendant horrors, stalked through the wretched camp. The faltering loyalty and insufficient discipline of the troops encouraged desertion, and the numbers of those spared by want and disease began to be sensibly diminished. Many who fled from their standards encountered a more deplorable fate, for none escaped the vigilance of the Moorish scouting parties; and captives were so numerous that in the market of Algeziras the choice of Christian slaves could be obtained for a doubloon of gold. To add to the general distress, the Emir of Granada was approaching at the head of a numerous body of troops with the design of effecting a junction with Abd-al-Melik. At this critical moment, when the Christian cause seemed all but lost, the course of events was changed by one of those unexpected occurrences which, while common in the annals of those times, is apparently inexplicable unless attributed to the influence of the chivalrous instincts that during the prosecution of the Moslem wars often changed ferocity into courtesy and enmity into friendship. The narrow space which separated the hostile camps was, according to the practice of the age, the scene of many knightly encounters. As the result of one of these, proposals of peace were offered and accepted, a truce of four years was signed, and the enemies, who but a few hours before had fiercely contended for each other’s destruction, now mingled together upon terms of familiar intimacy. An interchange of presents took place between the monarchs of Castile and Granada. The different degrees of civilization existing in the two kingdoms, and the marked superiority of the Moors in the knowledge and adaptation of the mechanical arts, are disclosed by the accounts that have descended to us concerning this exhibition of royal courtesy. The articles presented by the King of Castile are scarcely alluded to by the ancient chroniclers. Had they been objects of curiosity, elegance, or value, Castilian pride would not have been silent concerning them. On the other hand, the gifts of the Emir of Granada, their intrinsic worth, the excellence of their workmanship, the number, variety, and setting of the jewels with which they were adorned, are the subject of minute and accurate description. They included splendid arms and armor; among them a helmet enriched with rubies of extraordinary size, and a sword, with a damascened blade of the finest temper, whose scabbard, formed of overlapping plates of gold, was studded with magnificent topazes, sapphires, and emeralds. Not the least remarkable of these articles of elegant luxury were beautiful silks of many colors and pieces of cloth of gold. In Granada, the manufacture of silk had long since reached perfection, a considerable portion of the great bazaar of the capital was reserved for its merchants, and the superior quality of its product had brought it into great demand in every port accessible to commerce. In Castile, distant scarcely a day’s journey, this fabric, not beyond the reach of persons in moderate circumstances under the advanced civilization of the Spanish Arabs, was practically unknown, and so far from being an article of merchandise was an object of curiosity, and worth far more than its weight in gold.

The ceremonies of the treaty ended with a banquet, and Mohammed, forgetful or regardless of the prejudices of religion, accepted the hospitality of the King of Castile. This concession to a Christian misbeliever offended the bigotry of the Africans; the fancied partiality shown to the Emir of Granada by his host was resented as a national affront; and the ill-concealed mutual jealousy of the rival sectaries of Islam was again emphasized by a bloody tragedy. On his return to the camp, Mohammed was waylaid and slain by his fierce and treacherous allies, who had so greatly profited by his aid, and who could neither comprehend nor suffer the generous courtesy which recognized the virtues of good faith and toleration even in an hereditary foe. The Emir had scarcely breathed his last when the vizier Redwan, by a bold stroke characteristic of the crooked methods of Oriental politics, secured at the same time the public tranquillity and the continuance of his own power. Hastening to Granada, he caused Yusuf, the younger brother of Mohammed, to be proclaimed Emir, and conducted him with a magnificent escort to the Moslem camp, where allegiance was at once sworn to him by the army.

The year 1339 opened with extensive preparations for another African invasion, whose object was avowedly the conquest of the entire Peninsula. Every means to insure success was taken by the shrewd and active Abul-Hassan, Sultan of Fez, whose talents had raised his empire to the first rank among the Moslem powers of the West. Fanatical and eloquent missionaries were despatched to preach the Holy War among the wild tribes of the Desert. A treaty of alliance was concluded between the Sultan and Jaime III., King of Majorca. The friendly relations interrupted by the murder of an emir were resumed with Granada. For the moment, the instinct of self-preservation and the interests of a common faith outweighed national jealousy and the bitterness of theological hatred. An innumerable army was raised and equipped. The African navy, already more formidable than that of the enemy, was greatly strengthened. The possession of Gibraltar and Algeziras invited an enterprise which Moslem fanaticism easily persuaded itself was practicable, and, in case of failure, afforded means of security and retreat. Daily, for months, soldiers accompanied by their families crossed the strait. The sagacity of Abul-Hassan convinced him that by the presence of their wives and children the fidelity of the troops would be confirmed, their valor animated, and their confidence in the success of an undertaking, conducted with the sanction of religion, fully assured. Great numbers of these armed colonists entered Granada, where they were received with every evidence of consideration by Yusuf, who saw, with great satisfaction, this important addition to the military strength of his kingdom.

Information of these events, serious enough in themselves, and doubtless much exaggerated by fear and ignorance, spread terror through the realms of Portugal, Aragon, and Castile. The rivalry of the monarchs, the enmity of the nobles, the ambition of the clergy, were, for the time, laid aside in common apprehension of the approaching deluge. The naval forces of the three kingdoms were united under the command of the Castilian admiral, Don Geoffrey Tenorio. His fleet consisted of but thirty-six vessels, ill-manned, imperfectly equipped, and wholly unfitted to cope successfully with the swift and well-appointed galleys of the Sultan of Fez. In the general consternation, and to counteract the religious fervor of the Moslems, the sanction of divine aid was solicited through the Pope, and the Holy Father issued from Avignon a grant of plenary indulgence to all Christians who should participate in the impending contest.

The commencement of hostilities, near the close of the year 1339, was marked by a series of predatory expeditions, undertaken in turn by each nation, and characteristic of the disorderly and indecisive conflicts so popular in those times. After the capture of considerable booty, the African general, Abd-al-Melik, encamped with the bulk of his army in the plain of Pagana. The Christians, hastily assembled at the summons of their lords and commanded by the heads of the noble houses of Guzman and Ponce de Leon, names subsequently famous in the conquest of Granada, by a forced march surprised the enemy’s camp. Attacked in their tents, stupefied by slumber, and confounded by the din of combat, the Moslems, incapable of either resistance or flight, perished by thousands. Abd-al-Melik, pierced with many wounds, died among the reeds of a neighboring stream where he had concealed himself. The loss of the invaders exceeded ten thousand men, and a multitude of captives were led away in chains. A treasure of great value was secured by the victors; and the booty acquired in the last campaign, composed principally of cattle and sheep, was retaken and appropriated for the use of the Castilian army.

The effects of this brilliant exploit, in which were exhibited alike the skill and prowess of the Castilian soldiery, were, as usual, nullified by aristocratic jealousy and court intrigue. The signal advantage obtained was not pursued; and the Moors, encouraged by the want of spirit displayed by the enemy, were aroused to fresh exertions by the consciousness of power and the mortification of defeat. Bent on revenge, the Sultan, Abul-Hassan, redoubled his preparations for the coming invasion. Every man subject to his authority throughout his vast dominions was enlisted. The ports of Northern Africa resounded with the din incident to the repairs and the equipment of the fleet. The Sultan himself superintended the embarkation of the troops at Ceuta, and assumed command of the expedition. The Moorish armament, comprising two hundred and ten vessels, of which more than seventy were galleys of war, finally sailed from Ceuta; and the Moorish host, nearly two hundred thousand strong, landed without accident at Gibraltar and Algeziras. Every resource at the command of Abul-Hassan had been employed to collect, and to provide with munitions of war, this immense body of men. All the most powerful motives which actuate the human mind had united to further the project of invasion,—royal ambition, private vengeance, the admonition of religious duty, the thirst of empire, the hope of Paradise. For nearly two centuries so formidable a force had not threatened the Christian domination in the Peninsula. It was not without reason that the number of pilgrims to famous shrines was quadrupled; that the intervention of local saints was invoked in every hamlet; that the terrified inhabitants of Andalusia asked themselves if the inheritance of their fathers, won foot by foot from the infidel, was to be wrested from their hands at one blow by the barbarians of Africa; if the cathedral of Cordova, that priceless trophy of conquest, still existing in all its pristine beauty and consecrated to the worship of God, should once more be occupied by the slaves of the Arabian Prophet.

The enemy’s fleet had passed the strait during the night, apparently through the supineness of the Spanish admiral, whose inferior force, however, could not have even delayed its progress; but, from this apparent neglect of duty, a rumor arose that Don Geoffrey Tenorio, one of the most honorable and high-spirited of men, had betrayed his trust for a bribe. Stung to the quick by the unjust imputation, the brave soldier ordered his ships to prepare for battle. His adversaries outnumbered him three to one, and no courage or dexterity could compensate for the disadvantage of position or the disparity of numbers. The conflict was short and bloody. The Christian admiral, after a desperate struggle on the deck of his ship, fell sword in hand; the majority of the Christian vessels were taken or sunk; and only five succeeded in reaching the harbor of Tarifa. Abul-Hassan, from the loftiest minaret of Ceuta, witnessed the victory which established his maritime supremacy in the Western Mediterranean, and destroyed for nearly a generation the naval power of the kingdom of Castile.

In September, 1340, the Sultan of Fez formally assumed command of his troops at Algeziras. Not long afterwards the army of Granada, commanded by Yusuf, arrived, and the long-expected campaign began in earnest. The chronicles of the time differ greatly in their numerical estimates of the allied host. That it was very large, however, does not admit of doubt, and, even after due allowance for priestly exaggeration and Castilian gasconade, it would seem to have exceeded two hundred and fifty thousand men. Of these, nearly a hundred thousand were Mauritanian and Granadan horsemen, the finest light-armed cavalry in the world. The military skill which disposed of this great force corresponded in no degree with the irresistible power it was capable of exerting if intelligently directed. The most obvious course would have been to advance rapidly into the country of the enemy, already paralyzed with fear at its approach, and bring about an engagement before the Christians were fully prepared. The capture of Tarifa was, however, in the eyes of the two sovereigns, a more certain advantage than the precarious issue of a pitched battle on their own ground with the redoubtable chivalry of Castile, and, in consequence of their determination, a line of intrenchments was drawn around that city. It is uncertain whether any incentive other than mere caprice influenced the Moslem commanders in their decision. Tarifa was a place of comparatively small strategic value. So long as the more important fortresses of Gibraltar and Algeziras remained in the hands of the Moslems, affording ready communication with the shores of Africa, no material advantage could result from its possession. Its harbor was neither extraordinarily safe nor commodious. While the country in its vicinity was rich and fertile, its extent was not great enough to justify the expenditure of any large amount of blood and treasure for its subjection. And finally, the formidable character of the defences of Tarifa, which had, upon more than one occasion, demonstrated that a garrison insignificant in numbers could readily maintain its position against an immense army, should have convinced the Moorish princes of the difficulties to be encountered in its reduction, in addition to the probabilities of ultimate disaster. The siege of the city, once decided upon, was pushed with the utmost energy. Quantities of munitions of war, provisions, the ponderous engines used in military operations, and a few pieces of rude artillery were transported from Ceuta. The Castilian galleys which endeavored to intercept these supplies were wrecked by a tempest, and the sailors were killed by the enemy or captured and compelled to renounce their religion. The apathy of the Christians, partly the result of constitutional indifference, but largely due to royal oppression, seemed about to abandon their country to ruin. Alfonso XI., reduced to despair, convoked an assembly of the grand masters of the military orders, the most eminent prelates, and such of the principal nobles as he had not degraded, exiled, or put to death. After a pathetic appeal to their patriotism, he deposited upon a table his sword and crown, and, leaving with them these insignia of royal dignity as mute representatives of his honor and distress, he retired from the room. In the deliberations which followed, it was resolved to at once attempt the relief of Tarifa, an undertaking which, if successful, would avert a national misfortune. Every effort was exerted to assemble an army. The nobles summoned their retainers and vassals. The clergy proclaimed a crusade, raised the holy banner blessed by the Pope, and inflamed the religious zeal of their audiences by all the artifices of bigotry and all the powers of eloquence of which they were masters. Appeals were made to the Kings of Aragon and Portugal. A fleet of galleys was obtained from the Republic of Genoa, a proceeding which utterly exhausted the already bankrupt treasury of the kingdom, while the well-known duplicity of these mercenaries caused no little apprehension lest their power might yet be turned against their allies through the machinations of a rich and unscrupulous adversary.

After an investment of several weeks, after numerous assaults and many stratagems, all of which were repulsed or foiled, the undaunted garrison of Tarifa still maintained unimpaired the honor and reputation of the Castilian arms. To this handful of heroic soldiers the prospect was indeed discouraging. From the battlements of the castle, as far as the eye could reach, could be descried the countless tents of the besieging army. Amidst the coarse brown shelters of camel’s hair, the home of the migratory Arab, appeared the more pretentious quarters of the various division commanders, indicated by pennons of gaudy colors and by patrols of heavily armed sentinels. On a slight eminence, in the centre of the vast encampment, stood side by side the royal pavilions of the Sultan, Abul-Hassan, and Yusuf, Emir of Granada. Embellished with every adornment procurable by the boundless resources of wealth and power, they were conspicuous from afar. Their material was blue and crimson silk, profusely and elaborately embroidered. Globes of silver surmounted the stakes which sustained their folds. Before the tent of the Sultan of Fez waved the great standard of the Holy War,—of green silk inscribed with passages from the Koran, and with the name of Allah repeated hundreds of times in characters of gold. With armor and weapons glittering with jewels, a numerous guard watched over the safety of their sovereigns,—fierce warriors of the Zenetah, and of the Beni-Saraj, those “Sons of the Saddler,” destined in after-years to play a prominent part in the history of Granada, and whose valor, amidst the sinking fortunes of the Moslem empire, sustained in many sanguinary battles the reputation of their ancestry and the terror of their name. Outside the harbor was ranged the hostile fleet, covering the sea with its snowy sails; its gay ensigns emblazoned with the devices of the commanders or with the mottoes of the Koran assumed as their peculiar insignia by the princes of the House of Fez.

Well might the hearts of the little band of Christians in the beleaguered city of Tarifa sink within them. To all appearances, they were abandoned by their sovereign. No tidings of approaching relief could reach their ears. The din of incessant battle resounded through the streets. The walls were crumbling under the blows inflicted by formidable engines of war. More than once had scaling-parties obtained a foothold on the ramparts, only to be repulsed by superhuman efforts. Even in capitulation there was little prospect of safety, for such of their comrades as had fallen into the enemy’s hands were tendered the alternative of apostasy or death. For in this Holy War, waged more earnestly for the extension of religious faith than for the acquisition of territory or the spoils of conquest, the humane rules which ordinarily governed the surrender of enemies or the treatment of prisoners were either suspended or abrogated. Their stubborn and prolonged resistance had exasperated the besiegers, and there was slender hope of quarter in the event of submission or capture. The Moslem army was largely composed of barbarians, ignorant of the laws and usages of civilized nations; and, whether taken by storm or surrendered, the city would inevitably be sacked and would probably be destroyed. In the last moment of extremity and despair the Christian banners were discovered from the battlements. In the organization of the approaching army the efforts of the Spaniards had been absolutely exhausted. Castile, in the fourteenth century, could not command the men, the funds, the military resources, which had been under the control of the grim old warrior Ferdinand III. The population was diminished by wars, sedition, famine, disease. Agriculture was impossible where life and property were constantly unsafe. Articles which in the contiguous kingdom of Granada were in the hands of every peasant were unknown to most Castilians. The flocks, once the chief source of Estremadura’s and Andalusia’s wealth, had been swept away by the alternate incursions of friend and foe. The extravagance of mistresses, the peculation of officials, the exactions of the clergy, the rapacity of the nobles, had drained the public treasury. The administration of the finances was mainly in the hands of Jews and churchmen, who thwarted each other whenever possible, and always at the expense of the state; who, not unjustly, regarded each other with suspicion; and who, in turn, were cordially hated by those on whom were imposed the onerous burdens of tribute and taxation. Successive regencies organized for plunder; the flagrant abuse of power, and the prostitution of justice to the gratification of personal revenge; the insolence of royal concubines; the sanguinary tyranny which disgraced the throne; the invasion of private rights and the insecurity of private property; the impunity of crime; the omnipresent evidences of distress and penury; the degradation of labor, and the distinction attending the prosecution of successful rapine, had embittered public sentiment, and alienated the allegiance of a gallant and romantic people who formerly held the royal dignity of Castile as second only to the omnipotent authority of God. It was a momentous crisis in the history of Spain. The existence of an extensive monarchy, the integrity of a religion hoary with the venerable traditions of thirteen hundred years, were at stake. The numerical superiority of the Moslems was overwhelming. In the Christian ranks, on the very eve of battle, dissension still reigned, and princes of the royal blood were suspected of treasonable correspondence with the enemy. Under such circumstances, when every hand was needed, the publicity of such rumors, giving rise to mutual distrust, greatly impaired the efficiency of the army. The importance of the contest was evinced by the rank of those who followed in the train of the sovereigns of Castile and Portugal. The Primate of Spain; the Archbishops of Santiago, of Seville, of Braga; the bishops of Palencia and Mondoñedo; the grand masters of every martial brotherhood in both kingdoms; the representatives of every noble house from the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean, from the frontiers of France to the shores of the Atlantic, rode in the train of the monarch. The duties of these belligerent prelates were not restricted to the celebration of masses, to the invocation of saints, to the shriving of sinners. Nearly all of them had laid aside the sacred habiliments of their profession, and appeared sheathed in mail at the head of companies of well-appointed retainers. No contemptible adversaries were they, these sturdy champions of the Cross, equally at home before the quiet altars of magnificent cathedrals or surrounded by tumult and carnage in the very front of the line of battle. Such had been the custom of members of the Christian hierarchy even before the battle of the Guadalete. The crusading character of the Moorish wars, undertaken for the spread of religion, indorsed by the infallible authority of the Pope, assisted by the generous piety of foreign princes, had imparted a martial cast to every ecclesiastical organization in the Peninsula. There were more military orders in Spain than in any other country in the world. Not only were the Templars and Hospitallers represented there by wealthy priories and commanderies, but no less than four powerful bodies of monastic knights owed their origin to the wars of the Reconquest. The influence of these military monks in politics and war was extensive and formidable. They appointed regencies. They made and unmade sovereigns. Their counsels directed the measures of great principalities and kingdoms. Under the cloak of religious austerity they concealed many odious vices, ambition, venality, licentiousness, cruelty, avarice. In conjunction with the Church, they absolutely controlled the policy of the monarchy of Castile. To no class of its subjects was that monarchy so greatly indebted for its origin, its extension, its glory, the consolidation of its power, the formation of its manners. Ecclesiastical domination, established during a crusade of seven hundred years, made possible the atrocities of the Inquisition. It placed its seal upon the national character, noticeable in the grave and haughty demeanor, the taciturn disposition, the suspicious nature of the modern Spaniard. It was not without far-reaching results that the iron grasp of episcopal despotism was placed upon a people at its formation, and continued through long and eventful centuries of alternate success and disaster. As no caste contributed so much to the greatness of Spain as the clergy, none profited so much by its opportunities. Theirs was the most opulent branch of the Catholic hierarchy in Christendom. Their primate, first in precedence among prelates of corresponding dignity, ranked next to the Pope. No other country could boast such rich benefices, such vast domains, such princely revenues; religious houses like palaces in their variegated marbles and mosaics; cathedrals which even after ages of neglect are still matchless specimens of grandeur and beauty, filled with works of art of unapproachable excellence, furnished with sacred vessels of massy gold and sparkling gems, lighted by windows whose gorgeous tints, mellowed by age, offer to the admiring and awe-stricken worshipper a veritable glimpse of Paradise. Notwithstanding all these evidences of opulence and splendor, with its boundless possibilities for human happiness and human progress, the country did not advance. Its subsequent acquisitions cursed instead of benefiting it. The present degeneracy and weakness of the Spanish monarchy afford a melancholy example of a country founded upon, sustained by, and destroyed through the influence of superstition.

On the morning of the thirtieth day of October, 1340, upon the banks of the Salado, an insignificant stream, but one destined to immortality in the annals of the Spanish Reconquest, the two great armies prepared for battle. The first intelligence of the enemy’s approach was the signal for the abandonment of the siege. The outposts were recalled. The lines of circumvallation which for so long had enclosed the suffering and famished city were deserted. The cannon and catapults whose projectiles had opened many breaches in the walls were broken up or burnt. With the first light of dawn the King of Castile and his entire army received the communion administered by the Archbishop of Toledo, whose sacerdotal robes were thrown over his armor. The decimated garrison of Tarifa, leaving its defences, took up a position in the rear of the Moslems. The left wing of the latter was commanded by Abul-Hassan; in front of him was the great standard of the Faith; in his hands the open Koran. At the right was posted Yusuf with the chivalry of Granada. In the mighty host of the invaders there was little knowledge of tactics and still less of discipline, each tribe fighting independently under the banner of its chieftain, and relying on the impetuosity of the first attack; in case of repulse equally unable to rally or by skilful evolutions to take advantage of the errors or the momentary disorder of an enemy. At this distance of time, it is impossible to even correctly approximate to the numbers of the opposing forces, as each was interested in magnifying the strength of the other, either to increase the credit of victory or to diminish the ignominy of defeat. The numerical preponderance of the Moors was, however, unquestionable. Their superiority in this respect was largely modified by the character of their adversaries. The Christian knight, sheathed with his horse in steel, was more than a match for a score of ill-armed, half-naked barbarians. A few resolute cavaliers, acting in concert, could rally many thousands of fugitives; to an undisciplined mob, once stricken with a panic, numbers were only an impediment.

Thus, upon the opposite banks of the Salado were ranged the hostile armies whose respective success or misfortune was to decide the fate of the Peninsula. After a few skirmishes the Christians succeeded in crossing the stream. A body of nobles, by a flank movement, entered the enemy’s camp and destroyed it. Alfonso XI., advancing with the main body, encountered Abul-Hassan and was at once enveloped by the entire left wing of the Moslem army. The Castilians were almost overpowered; the royal guards were struck down by a hail of missiles; and the King, in despair, was with difficulty restrained from rushing almost alone upon the lances of the enemy. At this moment the flanking party and the garrison of Tarifa fell suddenly upon the rear of the Africans. Taken by surprise, the ranks of the latter were thrown into disorder, and, the confusion spreading on all sides, they broke into flight. In another part of the field the King of Portugal was engaged with the Emir of Granada. The troops of the latter, now forced to sustain the onslaught of the entire Christian army and dispirited by the retreat of their allies, abandoned their position. Their retirement became a rout, and the immense multitude, defenceless, and crowded together in an unwieldy mass, fell an easy prey to their merciless pursuers.

Nothing is so remarkable in this decisive battle as the short time it took to gain it. But a few hours sufficed to destroy that gigantic armament which required the combined efforts of two powerful kingdoms many months to organize and bring into the field. Frightful slaughter ensued. The plain, slippery with blood, was strewed with tens of thousands of corpses. A crimson torrent rushed through the narrow and precipitous channel of the Salado. The dead far exceeded the prisoners in numbers, but the greater part of the defeated army escaped to Granada. Both the Emir and Abul-Hassan regained their capitals by sea. The harem of the Sultan of Fez, and several of his sons, who, in the vain confidence of victory, had accompanied him, fell into the hands of the Christians. The implacable character of the struggle is shown by the treatment of these helpless unfortunates, whom the savage Castilians butchered in their tents. Since the memorable day of Las Navas de Tolosa, no such a display of booty had regaled the eyes of a victorious soldiery. The quantity of gold and silver bullion was so great that the commercial value of those metals was, in consequence, decreased one-sixth throughout the kingdoms of Spain and France. The wealth represented by bracelets and necklaces, by jewelled scimetars and enamelled daggers, by spurs whose material of massy gold was entirely concealed by their sparkling settings, by heaps of gems of unusual size and dazzling brilliancy, by precious ingots, requiring the united efforts of many men to lift them, was beyond all computation. To these attractive objects were added others of less interest, perhaps, but of more utility,—magnificent saddles and housings set with sapphires and topazes; pavilions of silk brocade; garments curiously embroidered with texts from the Koran; robes stiff with cloth of gold and silver; thousands of Arabian horses renowned for swiftness, gentleness, beauty, and endurance. The money subsequently obtained from the ransom of illustrious captives formed no inconsiderable amount of the spoils of this great victory. One hundred of the finest chargers, fully caparisoned, each led by a Moor of rank in splendid apparel, the royal standard of Castile, and the captured arms and armor of the Sultan of Fez were sent to the Pope at Avignon, as evidences of the power of papal intercession and as trophies of Christian triumph.

With the defeat of the Salado disappeared the active interference of the Sultans of Africa in the affairs of the Peninsula. They no longer seemed to possess either the capacity or energy to conduct great military enterprises to a successful issue. Henceforth defensive warfare alone exercised the talents and wasted the resources of the kings of Granada, the sole representations of Saracen power in Europe, in a conflict which, protracted for nearly two centuries longer by the suicidal feuds of Spanish princes, was destined to exhibit features that seem to belong rather to the fabulous realms of romance than to the rugged domain of history; while the royal line of the Alhamares, preserving from destruction the remnants of Moorish civilization transmitted from the Western Khalifate, by the protection of the arts and the encouragement of letters, for a time seemed about to restore the glories of Cordova and to render instinct with life and vigor the fast-vanishing phantom of Moslem greatness.

Abul-Hassan justly imputed the calamity which had overtaken him to the cowardice of his allies, who fled almost before they had crossed swords with their adversaries; and, henceforth, the struggling Moslems of Granada were abandoned to their own resources against the combined and overwhelming energy of the Christian powers.

Two years after the battle of the Salado, Alfonso XI. laid siege to Algeziras. For nineteen months the garrison held out against the entire forces of the Castilian monarchy. An ineffectual attempt was made by the Emir of Granada to relieve the city; but the memory of the recent catastrophe was too vivid, and the troops of that kingdom could not be driven to encounter their terrible enemies in battle. Algeziras surrendered, and its inhabitants and garrison were permitted to retire under a safe-conduct; the former with their personal effects, the latter with their arms and the honors of war.

The capture of Gibraltar was the next enterprise which claimed the attention of the martial King of Castile. In the year 1349, this stronghold, whose position and defensive works had made it proverbially impregnable, was invested. Unable to carry it by storm, an attempt was made to reduce it by famine. The siege had lasted a year, when, the plague having broken out in the Castilian camp, Alfonso became one of the first victims, leaving the crown to his son, Pedro el Cruel, a name of hideous import in the annals of royal infamy. The magnanimous courtesy of the Moslems was never more conspicuously exhibited than on this melancholy occasion. The Emir of Granada, who was encamped in the rear of the Christian army, permitted the funeral cortege to proceed to Seville without molestation, and many cavaliers of his court assumed mourning in honor of the deceased sovereign, the oppressor of their countrymen and the enemy of their faith.

The remaining years of Yusuf were passed in peace. The series of misfortunes, which, in melancholy succession, had afflicted the Moslem arms, were, for the time, suspended. In Castile, the dissensions incident to a minority again distracted that kingdom; again the factious nobles contended for political supremacy by conspiracy and rebellion; again the course of justice was interrupted; again the royal dignity was degraded and fell into general contempt. Thus relieved from the heretofore omnipresent fear of invasion, the kingdom of Granada was enabled to pursue, without interruption, its course in the progressive march of civilization. The treasures formerly employed in the unprofitable operations of war were now expended in the development and application of the arts of peace. Pre-eminently fortunate in the character of its princes, the dynasty of the Alhamares produced no superior to Yusuf in every noble trait and aspiration which can contribute either dignity or honor to the reputation of a king. Passionately devoted to building, the most magnificent apartments of the Alhambra were constructed during his reign and under his personal supervision. At this epoch were realized those conceptions of architectural genius which rendered that splendid edifice without a parallel among the most sumptuous abodes of royalty. In imitation of its beauties, scores of mansions and villas were erected in the city and its environs by the illustrious nobles of Granada. In the plan of these magnificent palaces the prevailing tastes and customs of the Orient were universally observed. The courts were surrounded by columns of white marble and alabaster, whose capitals were carved of massy silver, whose shafts were often covered with gold. The stuccoes were painted scarlet, green, and blue; upon this brilliant background in high relief appeared with bewildering variety a maze of sacred legends, of geometric tracery, of intertwined arabesques, all gilded, and shining with gorgeous splendor. The pavements and dadoes of the courts and halls were alike composed of mosaics disposed in a thousand fantastic patterns; the balusters of the galleries and the beams of the ceilings of larch and cedar were carved and inlaid with ebony, mother-of-pearl, tortoise-shell, and ivory; in the flower-beds the tropical luxuriance and brilliancy of choice and fragrant blossoms reproduced with wonderful fidelity the designs, the texts, and the tracery of the walls. On every side was a profuse abundance of water; a reminiscence of that greatest of blessings to the sojourners in the hot and arid atmosphere of the Desert, the simple and abstemious progenitors of the proud lords of these stately edifices, sybarites in fastidiousness, familiar to satiety with every refinement of vice and luxury. Introduced through great aqueducts, from reservoirs in the Sierra fed by melting snows, it was distributed in every form which human ingenuity could devise for the benefit or gratification of man. It shone in basins of alabaster filled with goldfish. It coursed through the tiny channels of conduits in hall and vestibule. It displayed the hues of the rainbow in the fountains of garden and court-yard. It ran swiftly in the balustrades of marble staircases, at each landing throwing up a sparkling jet to the height of many feet. And lastly in the bath, that indispensable requisite of the abode of every wealthy and conscientious Moslem, it was lavished with a prodigality and convenience unknown even to the luxurious Roman in the most fortunate days of the Empire.

It was not only in the encouragement of architecture that the practical genius of Yusuf found employment. His attainments as a scholar far surpassed his knowledge of, or his capacity for, government. There were few branches of science known in that age with which he was not familiar. In astronomy and chemistry his learning was especially extensive and accurate. It was during his reign that the famous Ibn-Beithar, the first botanist, physician, and natural philosopher of his time, travelled under the patronage of his sovereign through every accessible country of the world with a view to the improvement of medical science and the acquisition of botanical information. The measures taken by Yusuf to improve the condition of his subjects were adapted to every grade of society, to all branches of industry, to the regulation and practice of religious ceremonies, to the encouragement and direction of intellectual progress. His enlightened mind perceived at a glance the steps required to confer a public benefit or to correct a grievous abuse. His edicts prescribed the performance of the often neglected ritual of Islam; they defined and enforced the injunctions of cleanliness, of regularity, of formality in worship—that the believer should always live within hearing of the call to prayer; that with every twelve houses a mosque should be erected; they recalled the meritorious character of duties to the poor and the helpless; the protection of the orphan; the visitation of the sick; the distribution of alms. They regulated the police of cities, fixed the hours for opening and closing the gates, and appointed for each ward a magistrate responsible for the preservation of order. They enjoined the prosecution of military operations with humanity, and severely prohibited injury to non-combatants or molestation of the peaceful ministers of a hostile religion. The barbarous punishments instituted by Koranic law were greatly modified by the generous indulgence of Yusuf, who not infrequently permitted the mitigation of a sentence where the severity of the penalty was disproportionate to the nature of the crime. Public edifices of great size and palatial character, mints and universities, mosques and arsenals, were multiplied throughout his dominions during his reign. By importations from Arabia, by the institution of rewards, by the publication of ordinances, he improved the breed of Andalusian horses, even before that time famous in Europe. In the manly pride of health and vigor, this great monarch, the representative of an advanced civilization, the patron of learning, the father of his people, came to an ignoble and untimely end. An assassin, so obscure that the chronicles neither mention his name nor disclose his motive, stabbed him while performing his devotions in the mosque. His murder was probably the act of a fanatic or the culmination of a plot contrived by some unprincipled aspirant to the throne, whose identity was not discovered and whose treason certainly failed of its object. Mourned by every class of his subjects, Yusuf was buried in the royal vault of the Alhambra, where his marble sarcophagus, inscribed with a lengthy and pompous epitaph, once resplendent with blue and gold, still remains.

The accession of his son Mohammed V. in the midst of peace seemed to promise a long and happy reign. The Castilians were too busily employed in fighting each other to concern themselves about their Moslem neighbors. Their King, Pedro el Cruel, who considered a large proportion of his subjects in the light of personal enemies, had already, by his sanguinary measures, earned the ferocious appellation by which he is known to posterity.

The new Emir possessed all the noble attributes which characterized the most distinguished of his predecessors,—affability, generosity, courage, solicitude for the happiness of his subjects, devotion to letters. But his gentle disposition lacked the sternness and resolution indispensable to a sovereign whose empire included so many discordant national and political elements. Of simpler tastes than his father, he at once banished from the precincts of the court that herd of cringing parasites who live by flattery and corruption,—consumers of the public revenues, ministers of pride and sensuality. In their place he substituted a number of dignified and capable officials of approved integrity and wide experience. This step, while it increased the popular respect, created a number of treacherous and formidable enemies, the effects of whose secret animosity were soon disclosed. The generosity of Mohammed had assigned to his step-mother and her sons as a residence the palace of the Alcazar, not far from the Alhambra, and, while of less extent, almost rivalling it in beauty and splendor. This woman, whose ambition was boundless, had permitted the thirst of avarice to predominate over the natural sentiments of grief, and had taken advantage of the confusion resulting from the assassination of her husband to secretly abstract a large quantity of gold and jewels from the public treasury. By means of this, with the design of raising her eldest son Ismail to the throne, she corrupted princes of the blood and representatives of powerful families, some of whom had been driven from the court by the political reformation instituted by the Emir. When the plot was ripe, a hundred picked men scaled the walls of the Alhambra at night. The sentinels, unsuspicious of danger, were killed at their posts. Distracted by the suddenness of the attack, and deceived by the cries of the assailants and the movements of their torches which magnified their numbers, the garrison fled. Oblivious of the object of the enterprise, and tempted by the riches about them, the insurgents at once gave themselves up to plunder. Through the devotion of a favorite slave, Mohammed was provided with female clothing, and escaped through one of the secret subterranean passages that connected the Alhambra with the other royal abodes of the city. Swift horses soon carried the fugitives to Guadix, whose loyalty was unshaken; Ismail was proclaimed Emir, under the direction of his brother-in-law, Abu-Said; and another revolution, with its train of evils—discontent, proscription, confiscation, and wide-spread calamity—was inaugurated to embitter the factions and undermine the power of the fair and happy kingdom of Granada. The efforts of Mohammed to recover his crown proving fruitless, he undertook a journey to Africa to enlist, if possible, the sympathy and support of Abu-Selim, the Sultan of Fez. Received with every courtesy, a large army was placed at his disposal and transported to Andalusia; but the death of Abu-Selim, and the accession of another prince, either neutral or unfriendly to the aspirations of the dethroned sovereign, caused the recall of the troops before they had begun operations. Thwarted thus by his allies, Mohammed now had recourse to the King of Castile. His appeal was heard, and a Christian army was assembled to effect his restoration. In the mean time, the idle and voluptuous character of Ismail, combined with the arbitrary assumption of authority by Abu-Said, had aroused the hatred and contempt of his subjects. Those feelings were not diminished by the bloody usurpation of Abu-Said, who caused the reigning prince and his brothers to be murdered, and then took formal possession of the throne which he had already occupied, so far as the actual government of the kingdom was concerned. The Christian forces entered Granada; the smaller towns at once signified their submission; there remained nothing to be taken but the capital and its Vega; when Mohammed, affected by the sight of the sufferings incident to the progress of an invading army, abandoned his project, and requested the retirement of his allies. Rather than inflict upon his people the misery which must inevitably result from a siege of the capital by an army alien to his people in nationality and religion, unrestrained by discipline, and careless of the dictates of humanity or the usages of war, he was prepared to renounce his royal inheritance.

Despite the discomfiture of his rival, the universal odium entertained towards Abu-Said on account of his tyranny, as well as for his crimes, rendered the stability of his power so uncertain that he determined to temporarily abandon his kingdom. As a preliminary step, he restored, without ransom and loaded with valuable gifts, a number of Castilian cavaliers, including the brother-in-law of the King, all of whom had been taken in a marauding expedition; and, in return for this unusual generosity, requested their mediation to induce Pedro el Cruel to espouse his cause. The daily increase of Mohammed’s influence, the desertion of important cities, among them the stronghold of Malaga, the treachery of his partisans, who, in increasing numbers, constantly resorted to the hostile camp, determined Abu-Said to confide no longer in the doubtful loyalty of his courtiers, tempted by every consideration of personal interest and political advantage to betray him. Attended by a considerable retinue of those who still remained faithful to his decaying fortunes, he left his kingdom and threw himself upon the royal honor and hospitality of Pedro el Cruel at Seville. A more unfortunate and ill-timed resolution had never been entertained by a despairing monarch. With an eye to future contingencies, he had collected and taken with him all the wealth which the treasury of Granada, depleted by continuous peculation, mismanagement, and theft, contained. This, however inconsiderable when compared with the riches of former times, was more than sufficient to arouse the cupidity of a perfidious king, often almost reduced to penury by extravagance, and absolutely unscrupulous as to the means of supplying his necessities. The Moors, in the presence of a hostile court, displayed with ostentatious profusion all the rare and tempting objects of luxury so coveted by the poverty-stricken Castilians,—horses of the finest Arabian blood; sumptuous housings shining with gold and silver embroidery; lances, javelins, and scimetars, elaborately inlaid, and set with jewels; coffers filled with precious stones of extraordinary size and beauty—rubies, emeralds, sapphires, pearls, and hyacinths; quantities of rich stuffs of silk and cloth of gold. The apparel of the most plainly attired noble who attended the exiled Moslem prince far surpassed in elegance and value the garments of the Castilian sovereign. The effects of the folly which permitted such a display by persons assuming the character of suppliants soon became apparent. The King received his guests with much ceremony and apparent cordiality. Abu-Said was lodged in the Alcazar, as became his royal rank, and his attendants were distributed through the Jewish Quarter, a locality near the palace and easily accessible to the soldiery, which traversed by a labyrinth of narrow and crooked lanes enclosed by lofty walls was a veritable prison from which there was no escape. The resolution of Don Pedro had already been taken. The sight of this great wealth within his grasp was too much for his equanimity. It was true that the Moors were in his capital under the royal safe-conduct, as well as with his personal assurance of protection. It was notorious that the laws of hospitality were respected by even the lowest races of men, and were by no people more highly regarded than by the Arab ancestors of his guests. In a formal audience, surrounded by all the evidences of civil pomp and military array, he had solemnly pledged his word to carefully examine the respective claims of the contestants for the throne of Granada, both of whom acknowledged themselves his vassals, and to decide impartially between them. These considerations, however, weighed but little with the treacherous monarch. The fact that he was the suzerain of Abu-Said afforded him a ready pretext for prompt and decisive action. Under feudal law he could dispose of the property and life of an unfaithful vassal. The Moslems, invited to a banquet, were seized by the guard. All were searched, and the jewels and money concealed on their persons confiscated. Thrown into prison, they remained for two days in suspense; on the third, they were conducted to a plain outside the city and fastened to stakes. In mockery of his rank, Abu-Said was clothed in a scarlet robe, and, mounted upon an ass, led the melancholy procession to the place of execution. Thirty-seven of his retinue, including several personages of the highest distinction, shared his fate. These deluded victims of their own credulity were used as marks for the lances of the nobles of Don Pedro’s court; and the King himself gave the signal by a thrust which pierced the body of his most distinguished guest. The heads of the murdered Moslems were sent to Mohammed as a testimonial of the friendship of his suzerain, and as an indication that the power of the faction which had dethroned and exiled him was broken.

Whatever might be the moral aspect of this transaction, it was certainly advantageous to the King of Castile both in a financial and political point of view. Enormous wealth was obtained by the spoliation resulting from an unparalleled act of perfidy. There was not a Moor who had not in his effects or on his person treasures of great value. The pages, as least liable to suspicion, were the custodians of the most precious jewels. From one was taken a necklace of a hundred pearls as large as filberts; from another, who wore a leathern girdle, seven hundred and twenty-three rubies; the search of a third revealed three of the same stones of the size of pigeon-eggs and of extraordinary brilliancy; almost a peck of beautiful pearls was found upon a fourth. The gems of inferior lustre, or less highly prized, sapphires, hyacinths, and turquoises, with embossed and damascened arms and armor and gold in coin and bullion, were scarcely less valuable, and far exceeded the booty ordinarily yielded by a marauding expedition. In addition to the pecuniary profit derived from this outrage of the rites of hospitality, the power of Don Pedro was materially strengthened by it. The removal of a dangerous enemy, and the destruction of a party whose influence had been sufficient to subvert the royal succession, must necessarily insure the gratitude and support of Mohammed, who was indebted to it for his restoration to power. The Castilians, entirely controlled by the principles of the time, viewed with indifference a breach of faith which, however reprehensible when committed against a Christian, was almost meritorious when it involved the sacrifice and plunder of an infidel. Mohammed received with mingled joy and abhorrence the information of the death of his rival, and, amidst the real or pretended rejoicings of the people, again ascended the throne. Magnificent presents—horses and trappings, jewels and gold— were sent to Don Pedro as tokens of gratitude, and a perpetual treaty of alliance was soon after ratified between the courts of Castile and Granada.

In the domestic and foreign disturbances which oppressed the Castilian monarchy during the troubled reign of Don Pedro, the Andalusian Moslems remained the steadfast adherents of the Christian king. They served in the war with Aragon. They rendered substantial and timely aid in the implacable contest which, in spite of their efforts, finally established the political supremacy of the bastard line of Trastamara. During the siege of Cordova, animated by the sight of their famous temple, the holy mosque of the Ommeyade khalifs, they scaled the walls in the face of a desperate resistance and took the Alcazar under the very shadow of the ancient Moslem shrine. The city was almost within their grasp and must have fallen had their efforts been seconded by their Christian allies with half the resolution they themselves displayed. In the battles of Najera and Montiel, so vital to the fortunes of Don Pedro, the one confirming for a brief period his waning power, the other involving the forfeit of his life and crown, the Moorish soldiers of Granada, intrusted with the safety of the royal person, displayed a fidelity and a heroism far surpassing that of the Castilian chivalry, oppressed by tyranny, corrupted by intrigue, and continually wavering in their political inclinations through the tempting inducements of the rival camps.

From the battle of Montiel, which closed the career of Don Pedro I., to the death of Mohammed in 1391, the kingdom of Granada enjoyed, with but few trifling exceptions, the blessings of peace. The Emir, a few months after the accession of Henry II., stormed the city of Algeziras, and, unable to retain it, razed its fortifications, and filled up the harbor. The defences were subsequently restored, but so effectually was the port obstructed that its commodiousness was destroyed, and, in consequence, the commercial and strategic importance of the place was greatly diminished. An occasional border foray, undertaken by irresponsible marauders in times of internal commotion when the restraints of royal authority were barely tolerated or scarcely acknowledged, was the only interruption of a cessation of hostilities maintained, on the one hand, by policy and choice, and, on the other, by necessity, which lasted twenty-two years. The prudence of Yusuf II., the son and successor of Mohammed V., at once suggested and obtained a renewal of the treaty which had long united the two kingdoms, and whose existence had been so propitious to the security, the wealth, and the happiness of Granada.

In 1394, Don Martin Yañez de Barbudo, Grand Master of Alcantara, Portuguese by birth, fanatic by nature, and adventurer from inclination, sent to the Emir of Granada an absurd defiance, whose grandiloquent terms recall the extravagances of the romances of chivalry. Raising the banner of the crusade, which bore the green cross of his order, at the head of eighteen hundred followers he advanced to the conquest of a populous kingdom, which astrological calculation and the suspicious predictions of a hermit had assured him he would easily achieve. The remonstrances of provincial governors, and the peremptory commands of the King, who saw with indignation this unprovoked attack upon a friendly power, were insufficient to divert him from his purpose, which he declared was sanctioned by the Almighty and confirmed by many portentous visions and miracles. The Moors permitted this band of fanatics to approach within a few miles of their capital. It was then surrounded by an army of a hundred thousand men and annihilated. Not a single Christian escaped. The knowledge that the expedition had been undertaken contrary to the orders of the King of Castile prevented a rupture between the two kingdoms. About this time, Yusuf died suddenly, an event attributed, through the Oriental love of the marvellous, to a poisoned mantle sent him by the Sultan of Fez. He was succeeded by his second son, Mohammed VI., whose intriguing and ambitious spirit had long since prompted him to subvert the hereditary right of his elder brother Yusuf in order to obtain the crown. Yusuf was confined, with his harem, in the castle of Salobreña, where, although furnished with every luxury suitable to his rank, he was subjected to strict restraint and constant espionage. Solicitous concerning the validity of his title, and apprehensive of the manner in which his usurpation might be regarded by the Castilian king, Mohammed formed a romantic design, eminently characteristic of the manners of the East, and whose danger and novelty, added to the attractiveness of an enterprise remarkable for its boldness, were almost a guaranty of success. In the character of his own ambassador, with a retinue of twenty splendidly mounted and appointed cavaliers, he traversed, unrecognized alike by his subjects and his Christian neighbors, the provinces of his own and the states of the Castilian kingdom as far as Toledo. A renewal of the treaty of alliance was readily obtained from Henry III.; and the Emir returned to Granada secure, for the time, from a renewal of hostilities from an adversary whose supremacy every reflecting statesman in the Peninsula felt could not be much longer delayed.

In 1406, serious trouble having arisen on the frontier, in consequence of mutual depredations, King Henry summoned the Cortes with the avowed object of using all the available resources of the monarchy for the final subjugation of the Moslems of Granada. His sudden death, and the occurrence of another long minority with its inevitable series of plots and disasters, prevented the realization of this project; and the existence of the Moorish kingdom, which fortune seemed to have made the especial object of her favor, was protracted for nearly eighty-five years longer. The demise of the king, however, only deferred for a short time the prosecution of hostilities. The restless spirit of the Spanish chivalry, nourished by war and sedition, was never content with the formal and tedious ceremonial of the court. The perils of the battle-field; the surprise of an isolated fortress; the foray, with its excitements and its spoil; the flocks and herds of the rich pastures; the treasures of splendid villas; the beauty and fascinations of the inmates of princely harems,—these were at once the school of the Christian cavaliers, the objects of their highest aspirations, the incentives of their warlike and vainglorious ambition. The enthusiasm aroused by the crusading enterprise of Henry III., while somewhat cooled, was far from being dissipated by his death. A large sum was voted by the Cortes. The cities of Leon and Castile resounded with preparations for the conflict. A fleet of twenty-three galleys, equipped by the Emirs of Tunis and Tlemcen and sent to aid the Spanish Moslems, was defeated and destroyed in the Strait of Gibraltar by an inferior force under the Admiral of Castile. Mohammed, well aware of the plans of his enemies, endeavored to anticipate them by invading the province of Jaen with a numerous army, and began the siege of that city. Information of the approach of a Christian force caused him to make an inglorious retreat without a battle. On the way he stormed Bedmar, where, out of a numerous population, less than one hundred prisoners survived to experience the bitterness of slavery. In return, the Christians took the strong outpost of Zahara, and ravaged without mercy the fertile environs of Ronda.

In 1408, Mohammed, at the head of twenty thousand soldiers, besieged Alcaudete. The spirit of Arab tactics, intolerable of delay and unreliable in the face of strong walls and obstinate resistance, faltered before the determined courage of the garrison. Both Christians and Moslems had suffered greatly during this war, which had hitherto yielded no perceptible advantage to either; a suspension of hostilities for eight months was readily agreed to; and the Castilians, to whom a temporary respite was even more advantageous than to their adversaries, having previously exhausted their available resources by the enrolment of troops, now with forty million maravedis in the treasury, impatiently expected the expiration of the truce.

In the mean time, Mohammed VI., stricken with a fatal disease, was admonished by his physicians that he had but a short time to live. Recognizing that the life of his brother, still detained in the castle of Salobreña, might prove a serious obstacle to the prospects of his own son whom he had destined to succeed him, he sent a peremptory order to the alcalde of Salobreña to send him the head of Yusuf by the messenger. The alcalde received the latter while playing chess with the imprisoned prince, whose affable manners, engaging address, and unmerited misfortunes had won the esteem of all his guards and attendants. The manifest agitation of his companion revealed to Yusuf, ever in expectation of such a catastrophe, the serious nature of the despatch. Acquainted with its import, the prince begged for a few hours’ delay to bid farewell to his family; but the command was urgent, and the messenger, a standard-bearer of the Emir, accustomed to implicit and instant compliance, demanded its immediate execution. It was finally agreed that a respite should be granted until the conclusion of the game. Short as the time was, it had not elapsed when two nobles of the court arrived, and, with every mark of respect and homage, saluted Yusuf as Emir of Granada.

Mohammed VI. had suddenly expired; his subjects, recognizing the superior claims of the unfortunate Yusuf, had repudiated his nephew; and the sorrowing prisoner, under sentence of death and with but a few moments to live, saw himself raised in an instant from the lowest depths of misfortune to the throne of a powerful kingdom and the absolute sovereignty of more than a million souls. The accession of Yusuf was followed by the usual embassy, bearing rich presents to the Castilian court; his advances were met with courtesy; and the personal hostility to Mohammed having been terminated by his death, a new truce for two years was without difficulty concluded. At its expiration in 1410, Yusuf, in accordance with the wise policy which had for so long governed the Moslem princes of his line, attempted to obtain its renewal. His request was insolently refused, and he was offered the alternative of vassalage and tribute or war. He chose the latter; assembled an army of a hundred and thirty thousand men, and met the Christians who were about to besiege Antequera. The Moors, despite their superior numbers, were routed in a bloody engagement; their country was laid waste; and Antequera was taken by Ferdinand, uncle of the King, chief of the regency, and practically ruler of the kingdom. His success he piously attributed to the sword of St. Ferdinand, a priceless souvenir of victory long deposited in the Cathedral of Seville, and which, in this as in former campaigns, had been carried in battle, where it was supposed to exert the miraculous powers of a sacred relic, as well as the more appropriate virtues of a military talisman. Peace was soon afterwards established conditionally upon the liberation of several hundred Christian captives by the Emir of Granada.

The Moslems of Gibraltar, subject to the extortion and tyranny of a grasping alcalde and seeing no prospect of relief, communicated secretly with the Sultan of Fez, and offered to deliver to him the fortress. That monarch, seeing in this proposition an opportunity to disembarrass himself of his brother Abu-Said, whose talents and popularity already menaced the continuance of his power, despatched him to Gibraltar with two thousand men. The agreement was kept by the citizens; the gates were opened; the Africans occupied the city; and the alcalde with the garrison took refuge in the citadel. In a short time, Ahmed, son of Yusuf, arrived with a large detachment of troops, and the Africans, engaged in front and rear, were compelled to surrender. The prince, Sidi-Abu-Said, was taken to Granada, where he received the attentions due to his distinguished rank.

As soon as these facts became known to the Sultan of Fez, he despatched messengers to the Emir, requesting the murder of his brother, both as a measure of safety to himself and an evidence of friendship from his neighbor. The generous nature of Yusuf revolted at the proposal. He showed the letter to his prisoner; tendered him his sympathy and his assistance; and sent him with a force of picked men and a great treasure to avenge his wrongs and drive his inhuman brother from the throne. The Sultan was defeated near his capital and died in prison; Sidi-Abu-Said seized the crown without further opposition; and the disinterested generosity of Yusuf cemented anew the relations of the two Moorish kingdoms, so frequently interrupted by national jealousy, sectarian discord, and the projects of unscrupulous ambition.

For the remainder of his life, no further hostilities occurred to vex the repose of Yusuf, and a career begun in trouble and persecution was passed amidst the pleasures and amusements of an enduring peace. The cavaliers of Castile and Aragon, who had deserved the jealousy or provoked the resentment of their respective sovereigns, found in the Moslem court a refuge from the vengeance of their enemies, and their feuds were sometimes permanently reconciled through the mediation and the good offices of the Moorish king. In the same manner, he was not infrequently appealed to for the settlement of disputes which had arisen between the haughty Christian knights. Opportunities were afforded, in accordance with the chivalric custom of the age, for the decision of these quarrels by a contest of arms. The lists were placed in the famous Plaza de la Bab-al-Rambla, in the heart of the Moslem capital. Every formality of the tourney, as known and exercised by the most refined and polished people in Europe, was observed,—the proclamation by heralds, the adherence to the established rules of knighthood, the practice of dignified courtesy, the presentation of favors, the distribution of the rewards of valor and address by the hands of beauty. The attractiveness of the spectacle was enhanced by the character of the surroundings, by the splendor of the costumes, by the romantic features of the encounter, by the presence of the monarch, by the charms of the beautiful Moorish women. The quaint old houses with their overhanging balconies and sculptured lattices were hung with silken tapestry and garlanded with flowers. From them, the ladies of the court, whom the liberal customs of the Andalusian Moor allowed to appear unveiled, looked down upon an exhibition of daring horsemanship and dexterity in the use of weapons to which modern equestrian exercises offer no parallel and can afford no adequate conception. Their garments of silk, curiously embroidered, were of every color; their dark tresses glittered with jewels; about their necks were strings of enormous pearls and many chains of gold. Upon a balcony more elevated than the rest sat the Emir, the judge of the combat, with rows of black eunuchs and mamelukes in magnificent uniforms and armed with gleaming weapons grouped around him. The heralds, whose tabards were emblazoned with the armorial bearings and cipher of the monarch, proclaimed the mutual defiance of the champions, enforced compliance with the regulations of the lists, and prevented the excited contestants from exceeding the limits prescribed by the rules of chivalric honor and deferential courtesy. Second only to the rewards of military renown were the distinctions of the tourney and the tilt of reeds among the dashing Moorish cavaliers, passionately fond of every martial exercise and of every pastime which required the exhibition of activity and skill.

In ordinary encounters, as well as in the more serious contests of the Castilian champions presided over by Yusuf, blood was rarely spilled. The impetuosity of the ruder Christian knights, whose customs demanded a serious duel in satisfaction of injured honor, was restrained by the politic Emir, who used every effort to pacify his infuriated guests and to change their enmity into temporary if not lasting friendship. This course, indicative of the noble generosity and inherent justice of his nature, obtained for him the highest esteem and popularity at the Castilian court. The confidence reposed in him, the admiration evinced for his talents and his integrity by the hereditary foes of his nationality and his creed, are the most unequivocal testimonials of the greatness of his character. The dowager Queen of Castile maintained a regular and intimate correspondence with him, and presents were frequently exchanged between them. The asperities of war were softened by this friendly intercourse; the condition of the frontiers, always unsettled, became more peaceful; and, in the midst of hostilities, Christian captives were frequently liberated without ransom.

Under the pacific reign of Yusuf, Granada increased in wealth, in all the vices engendered by the abuse of luxury, and in that effeminacy so fatal to military power and so characteristic of general decadence. His death ushered in a period of civil wars and general disorder, insignificant when considered singly, but which collectively portended the ruin of a nation.

Mohammed VII., the son of Yusuf, received from his father a kingdom in appearance powerful, but in fact without stability in its institutions or loyalty among its people. The calamities of his reign, the result of his arrogance and want of tact, procured for him the appellation of Al-Hayzari, The Left-Handed, rather a synonym of misfortune than a nick-name of awkwardness. Far from imitating the virtues of his father, he seemed to cultivate the dislike of his subjects by his neglect of their welfare and by his insufferable pride. The viziers and great officers of the court received at his hands as little consideration as the eunuchs and slaves. He refused audiences to the people, long accustomed to the patriarchal method of redressing wrongs inherited from the informal administration of justice by the sheiks of the Desert. Adopting the unpopular custom of the Orient, so inconsistent with the traditions and the practice of Islam, he secluded himself within the walls of the palace. The martial amusements of chivalry were prohibited. The populace were deprived of their games and festivals. All classes of society were soon united in the hatred of their monarch; he was deposed and driven to Tunis, and his cousin, Mohammed VIII., Al-Zaguer, ascended the throne. His first act was to exile the powerful family of the Abencerrages, whose intrigues with the King of Castile and the Emir of Tunis eventually accomplished his ruin. Mohammed-al-Hayzari was restored, and Al-Zaguer, eminent for political and literary talents, dexterous in military exercises, and possessed of every quality which contributes to the power and popularity of kings, was dethroned and beheaded. In return for the substantial aid afforded him, the Castilian king demanded the payment of an annual tribute and the acknowledgment of vassalage from Al-Hayzari. This being refused, another conspiracy was hatched, with Yusuf-Ibn-Alahmar, a wealthy noble of royal descent, at its head. His success was assured by the support of a powerful faction which, with a Castilian army, encountered the forces of the Emir at the base of the Sierra Elvira. The battle which ensued was one of the most bloody and destructive recorded in Moorish history. The Emir was overwhelmingly defeated; and another engagement, scarcely less disastrous, completely destroyed the power of Al-Hayzari, who was a second time driven into exile. His advanced age and the grave responsibilities of government shortened the life of Yusuf-Ibn-Alahmar, whose reign lasted only six months. His death was the signal for the return of Al-Hayzari, whom the fickle populace, which had twice expelled him, received with every token of joy and loyalty. The unpopularity of this monarch, who had learned nothing from adversity, extended even to members of his family, and his own nephews conspired against him. One of them, Ibn-Othman, by the lavish distribution of gold among the mob of the capital, excited a riot, seized the Alhambra, and threw his uncle into prison. His triumph was of short duration, however, for another nephew, Ibn-Ismail, with the support of the Christians, usurped the crown of Granada, now become the prize of every daring adventurer. The civil war between the two princes lasted for several years, with incalculable damage to the country and the people. The struggle was prolonged by the intrigues of Castile, through whose assistance the supremacy of Ibn-Ismail was finally secured. These serious commotions, which absorbed and exhausted the resources of the monarchy by the destruction of its wealth and the diminution of its population, left neglected and almost forgotten the fortresses of the frontier, the bulwarks of its safety, and the guarantees of its power. Many of these by voluntary relinquishment or by conquest passed into the hands of the Castilians, among them Gibraltar, the most important of all, which was surprised and taken by the Duke of Medina-Sidonia in 1462.

At the death of Ismail, in 1466, his eldest son, Muley Hassan, ascended the throne. A bitter foe of the Christians, he had more than once, while a mere youth, resented their interference in aid of pretenders and would-be usurpers, a feeling which became intensified a hundred-fold when he assumed the supreme direction of affairs. His implacable temper, the ferocity of his manners, his flagrant disregard of treaties, his pitiless forays, which gave no quarter and left behind a smoky waste, struck terror into the hearts of his enemies. The forces of the kingdom were at that time engaged in suppressing the rebellion of the alcalde of Malaga, brother of the monarch and claimant of the succession. In the palace, the plots of the inmates of the harem—rival wives who aimed at the exaltation of their progeny to royal power—disturbed the peace and further embittered the naturally morose disposition of the King, already irritated by the ingratitude of his kinsmen and the bloody experiences of incessant war and rebellion.

An important crisis, ever memorable in Moorish annals, was now reached in the affairs of Granada. For nearly two hundred years that kingdom had gradually, but none the less surely, been approaching dissolution. The political conditions which foster individual heroism, the patriotic loyalty which preserves a prosperous empire, imperceptibly diminishing with each succeeding generation, had finally disappeared. The expansive power so marked in the early ages of Islam, and especially conspicuous in the conquest and occupation of the Peninsula, no longer existed. The principle of hereditary right, practically unknown to the Arabs, adopted only for convenience by their descendants, frequently abrogated by the arbitrary will or the uncertain caprice of monarchs, and always weak among polygamous nations, was no longer recognized by the Andalusian Moslems. This custom, although weak in theory, had been one of the safeguards of the royal succession, and consequently an assurance of stability of government and of security to the citizen. Now, however, a swarm of pretenders disputed with each other the possession of the throne. The inheritance of royal blood, the possession of great wealth, the enjoyment of popular favor, were qualifications, any one of which was sufficient to tempt an adventurer to aspire to the crown of the Alhamares. Even the spirit of tribal loyalty, an ancient legacy of the Arab, had been weakened by a rapid succession of rulers of uncertain title and obscure antecedents. The populace was debauched by the gold which the leaders of every revolt scattered with prodigal hand. Successive irruptions of a score of tribes and nations, of fanatics of hostile sects and barbarian manners, had destroyed the comparatively homogeneous character at one time so noticeable in the inhabitants of Granada. The selfish vices peculiar to mercantile communities, the timidity incident to the holding of great possessions and the control of vast commercial interests, had engendered a spirit of cowardice, which was willing to purchase even when it was able to defend. The martial spirit which had once inspired a nation of warriors, bent upon proselytism and conquest, was extinct. Military ardor and ambition existed, it is true, among the higher classes which had adopted the profession of arms, but the number of the latter was comparatively insignificant, and their achievements were limited to the irregular operations of the foray. The levies summoned to battle by the sudden exigencies of war scarcely deserved the name of soldiers. Without discipline or obedience, often without weapons, they were little better than a disorderly rabble, whose first onset once repulsed caused them to flee incontinently from the field. While the arts of civilization had progressed in such an unparalleled degree, the science of war had remained stationary or had actually retrograded. The tactics of the Spanish Moors of the fifteenth century were still the ancient tactics of the Desert. Heavy-armed cavaliers they had none; foot-soldiers were represented by untrained peasants, armed largely with the implements of domestic use and husbandry. Their light-horse, however, were the finest troops of the kind in Europe. The rapidity of their evolutions, the ambuscade, the feigned retreat, the sudden rally, often confounded, to his sorrow, the rash and unguarded pursuer. This superiority, formidable as it was, was not sufficient to save, or even to protect, the kingdom. The vulnerable character of the military organization of the Moslems of Granada was disclosed by the number of important battles fought within sight and almost under the shadow of the walls of their capital. The incursions of an active foe ravaged, almost without interference, the fairest portions of their territory. The endurance of Moorish dominion, protracted for two centuries beyond the natural term of a nation in the age of its decadence, is to be chiefly attributed to two causes,—the natural obstacles which formed the frontiers of the monarchy, and the incessant discord of its neighbors. On one side of Granada a chain of rugged mountains, whose passes were defended by well-fortified castles, on the other, the sea, intercepted the progress of the invader. In the long interval between the death of Ferdinand IV. and the union of the crowns of Castile and Aragon, minor princes came to the throne. The advent of each, and the regency which ensued, were signalized by dissensions, intrigue, conspiracy, and revolt. But, while turmoil and sedition weakened Castile in one respect, it strengthened it immensely in another. Its people, from the highest to the lowest, became accustomed to the presence of danger, convinced of the necessity of discipline, familiar with the use of arms. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there were scarcely any manufacturers in the Christian dominions but those of weapons and armor. The specimens of these existing in museums to-day disclose the perfection of strength and elegance to which their fabrication had attained. The swords forged upon the Tagus were, even then, unequalled for the excellence of their steel and their wonderful durability. The product of the Spanish armorer was proof against the fiercest assault of the battle or the tourney. In weight, in stature, in endurance, in religious fervor, in martial enthusiasm, the Castilian knight was far superior to his Moslem antagonist. During the Moorish wars and the contemporaneous domestic seditions was formed the model of the invincible Spanish infantry, destined in the next century to become the dread and the admiration of Europe. Heretofore the Moors had had the power of the Castilian monarchy alone to contend with; now, however, they were to encounter the combined forces of the various kingdoms of the Peninsula, moving grimly and irresistibly forward to the attainment of a single end. In the ensuing catastrophe, a great people—learned, hospitable, accomplished, industrious, ingenious, long inspired by the most noble incentives which have ever directed the course of human progress—were to be abandoned to extortion, robbery, persecution, and exile; a land whose natural fertility had been enhanced a hundred-fold by the patient labor and inventive talent of man was to be swept clean by the desolating tempest of war; and a civilization, far surpassing that of any country in that age in the knowledge, the culture, the graces, the refinement, which confer national distinction and individual happiness, was to be ruthlessly blotted out from the face of the earth.

CHAPTER XXI
THE LAST WAR WITH GRANADA
1475–1486

Description of Granada—Its Wealth, Prosperity, and Civilization—Its Cities—Beauty and Splendor of the Capital—The Alhambra—Condition and Power of the Spanish Monarchy—Character of Ferdinand—Character of Isabella—Muley Hassan and His Family—Storming of Zahara—Alhama surprised by the Christians—Siege of that City and Repulse of the Moors—Sedition at Granada—Ferdinand routed at Loja—Foray of Muley Hassan—Expedition to the Ajarquia—Defeat and Massacre of the Castilians—Boabdil attacks Lucena and is captured—Destructive Foray of the Christians—Boabdil is released and returns to Granada—Renewal of Factional Hostility in the Moorish Capital—Moslem and Christian Predatory Inroads—Siege and Capture of Ronda—Embassy from Fez—Al-Zagal becomes King—Defeat of the Court of Cabra at Moclin—Division of the Kingdom of Granada—Its Disastrous Effects.

I undertake with diffidence the description of the last, the most romantic, the most melancholy epoch in the history of Mohammedan Spain. Its events have been recounted, its catastrophes enumerated, its gallant exploits and its deeds of infamy depicted by far more skilful hands than mine. The plan of this work, however, requires the exhibition of the last scene in that great and thrilling drama which, for a period of almost eight centuries, attracted the attention and inflamed the proselyting zeal of Christian Europe, and without which it would be manifestly incomplete. It is therefore from necessity that I enter upon this task, profoundly conscious of its difficulty, yet with the hope that the reader may not be unwilling to again peruse a story of surpassing interest and pathos,—this time viewed from the Moorish stand-point,—and with no design of attempting to improve that which is popularly regarded as historically perfect or of imitating that which is beyond all imitation.

In the year 1475 of the Christian era, that portion of the Spanish Peninsula bounded by the Christian provinces of Cordova and Murcia, by the Sierra Elvira and the sea, was the richest and most highly civilized region of corresponding area on the globe. Every advantage of soil, of climate, and of geographical position contributed to multiply its resources and increase its power. Its agricultural system, invented in Mesopotamia, extended in Syria, and perfected under the khalifs, had been developed by the industry and experience of many generations until the territory which it controlled appeared a marvel of diversified and luxuriant fertility. The earth yielded in inexhaustible profusion the choicest products of every portion of the world susceptible of cultivation and improvement. The date, the fig, and the pomegranate grew side by side with the cherry and the lemon, none of these fruits being indigenous, and all having been introduced into Europe by the curiosity and enterprise of the Arabs. The vineyards, whose grapes were seedless and for nine months retained unimpaired their exquisite and delicious flavor, covered the slopes of every hill and mountain-side. Such was the extent of the olive plantations, and so unusual the size of the trees, that they were compared by travellers to vast forests of oaks. An endless succession of harvests was produced by the crops of barley, wheat, and millet which grew upon the table-lands. Thousands of acres in every district were covered with mulberry-trees, planted as food for the silkworm, for the manufacture of silk was the most profitable industry of the people of Granada. From the flax and cotton grown near the coast fabrics of remarkable fineness and durability were produced, which found a ready market in all the ports of the Mediterranean. The rice and the sugar plantations, the almond-groves, the citron- and orange-orchards, the forests abounding in valuable woods, the pastures affording constant subsistence to immense droves of cattle and flocks of sheep, constituted no inconsiderable portion of the agricultural wealth of the kingdom. The intelligent cultivation of medicinal herbs furnished to the pharmacopœia many excellent remedies, still used by the modern practitioner. The propagation of the cochineal afforded a dye far surpassing in beauty and brilliancy the famous purple of the ancients. In the number and value of its minerals, this land, so favored by nature, was excelled by no other country at that time known to man. The sierras abounded in extensive beds of jasper, variegated marble, agates, onyx, chalcedony, lazulite, and alabaster. The mines, whose richness had early attracted the attention of the Phœnicians, yielded annually great quantities of gold, silver, iron, tin, mercury, and lead. Valuable gems, such as the ruby, the sapphire, and the hyacinth, contributed to the adornment and pleasure of woman and the exhibition of feminine taste and vanity. Along the coast of the Mediterranean the pearl-fisher, as in classic times, plied his dangerous but lucrative calling.

In the development and adaptation of these extraordinary natural advantages a laborious and intelligent people had profited by all the expedients suggested by human experience and ingenuity. A complete and intricate system of reservoirs and canals distributed the mountain streams, by myriads of tiny channels, through every orchard and plantation. Gigantic walls, which the credulity of the ignorant ascribed to supernatural agency controlled by talismans in the hands of royal magicians, formed terrace upon terrace rising along the sides of every acclivity, and the ground, thus painfully reclaimed by art, equalled in productiveness and value those more fortunate localities whose bounties had been lavished by the prodigal hand of Nature alone. Every country, from Hindustan to France, from Syria to Arabia the Happy, had paid tribute to the investigating spirit and botanical knowledge of the Spanish Moslem. Under a sun of almost torrid intensity, in a soil of inexhaustible richness, the rarest exotics grew with a luxuriance not surpassed in the lands from whence they derived their origin. The graceful palm, whose drooping branches had suggested to the architects of the Great Mosque of Cordova that interminable series of mysterious arches which at once awe and enchant the traveller, had been introduced by Abd-al-Rahman I. as a souvenir of Damascus, the city of his birth, From India had come the cubeb and the aloe; from Yemen the balm and the frankincense; from Persia the myrtle and the oleander. The pomegranate, from which Granada was supposed to have obtained its name, the cotton-plant, and the sugar-cane were imported from the coast of Africa. Europe itself furnished many contributions to the vegetable products of the kingdom, among them the pear, the apple, the peach, and the quince, which had long before been known to the Romans. In short, there was no plant of culinary value or medicinal virtues, no grain whose harvests promised an adequate return for the toil of the husbandman, no fruit whose flavor might tempt the palate of the epicure, which was not cultivated with success by the Moors in the closing days of the empire.

The geographical extent of that empire, at the beginning of the war which terminated with its conquest, was inconsiderable when compared with its commerce, its wealth, and its population. In area it scarcely equalled a modern European principality. At no time did its dimensions exceed seventy-five by two hundred and ten miles; fully one-fourth of its territory was rendered useless for agricultural purposes by the ranges of steep and barren mountains that intersected it, but which more than compensated for this loss by the value of their quarries and mineral deposits. The population exceeded three million souls. As has been previously mentioned, the new economic and social conditions resulting from the ever-contracting boundaries of the Moslem dominion, while they diminished its original territorial area, enormously increased the resources of the remaining provinces. From the conquered cities of Seville, Xerez, and Cadiz, alone, three hundred thousand families had emigrated to Granada. Every town and every hamlet subsequently occupied by the Castilians furnished its proportion of Moslem refugees, who, bearing their household goods and animated with undying hatred of the Christian faith, sought an asylum in the last stronghold of their race and their religion. The discerning wisdom of the emirs saw in the industry of these unhappy exiles a prolific source of future opulence and strength. The increase of military power arising from their numbers was prodigious. The property which the indulgent policy of the conqueror permitted them to retain was often of immense value. But greater than all was the accumulation of wealth represented by the capacity, the skill, the diligence, of these unwilling emigrants. There were few of them, indeed, unpractised in the science of husbandry or in the mechanical trades. Their intelligence and thrift were revealed by the flourishing condition of the country which they were compelled to abandon, much of it originally but little indebted to nature and largely reclaimed from barrenness, now covered with fragrant gardens and magnificent plantations, watered by crystal streams, adorned with sumptuous edifices, wherein were displayed all the resources of unbounded opulence, all the splendid embellishments of Oriental taste, all the wanton caprices of unbridled luxury,—a country destined soon to relapse into its pristine barbarism, a prey to sloth, to superstition, to ignorance; the home of mendicancy and imposture; the chosen field of the inquisitor and the monk.

With the welcome accession of material wealth and untiring energy came the no less valuable contributions of literary genius and intellectual culture. Civil war and Castilian aggression had not yet entirely destroyed the libraries of the great Moslem cities which had been formed in the glorious age of the Western Khalifate; and these inestimable legacies of ancient learning were, one by one, added to the stores of knowledge already existing in the city of Granada. From the lofty gallery of the minaret, not yet purified by Pagan lustration or resounding with the clangor of Christian bells, the Moorish astronomer, elevated far above the sleeping city, still observed the aspect of the heavens with their gorgeous constellations and their mysterious and interesting phenomena. The genius of poetry, whose influence was ever paramount with the romantic and imaginative Arab, found renewed inspiration amidst the beautiful surroundings of the capital of the Alhamares,—the scene of so many heroic achievements, the home of so many fascinating legends, transformed by the credulous into tales of enchantment, celebrated by the learned in poem, in disquisition, in chronicle.

In this charming region, where were concentrated the last remains of a civilization whose development had aroused the wonder and provoked the hatred of barbaric Europe, every merchant and every traveller found a cordial welcome. The Genoese had great factories in Malaga and Almeria. The enterprising Catalan, already noted for his shrewdness and in whom the spirit of proselytism and conquest was always subservient to the temptations of avarice, owned extensive mulberry plantations and was largely interested in the manufacture and exportation of silk. In Granada, the Hebrew, ever prosperous, was engaged in banking, in commerce, in the exercise of every mercantile occupation which suggested a substantial return to his proverbial and insatiable rapacity. Even the Castilian, oblivious of the hereditary prejudices of thirty generations of unceasing hostility, did not hesitate to accept the hospitality of the infidel, and to profit by the advantages afforded by the enlightened policy of the emirs of Granada. What a prospect was presented to the observing stranger who, for the first time, passed the frontiers of the Moorish dominions! He saw great cities whose streets, obstructed by an immense traffic, exhibited the costumes and displayed the commodities of every country accessible to commercial enterprise. At Malaga he beheld the ships of every nation possessing a maritime power; stupendous warehouses; admirably cultivated districts, where, for three days’ journey, he could traverse an uninterrupted succession of pomegranate and fig plantations. In Almeria were thousands of factories, furnishing employment to tens of thousands of artisans, where were produced fabrics of silk, of wool, of linen, and of cloth of gold,—some of gauze-like texture, others stiff with exquisite embroidery, all of unrivalled excellence; potteries where were formed those vessels of metallic lustre famous in the Middle Ages, the secret of whose composition was so jealously guarded that its tradition alone remains; hundreds of vast caravansaries swarming with the traders of the Orient and their caparisoned camels and other beasts of burden; bazaars filled with every ornament demanded by pampered wealth and every article of prime necessity, where even the utensils of the household were damascened and embellished with delicate arabesques; suburbs, where for forty miles the eye was charmed by an expanse of tropical verdure and innumerable orchards and gardens, dotted at frequent intervals with the palatial villas of the wealthy merchants of Almeria, whose reputation for prodigality and voluptuousness had spread to the remotest confines of the East. He saw a land enriched by a system of cultivation without parallel in the annals of horticultural industry; which, adopting the principles of antiquity and profiting by the experience of centuries, had surpassed in the value and importance of its practical results the efforts of all nations, ancient and modern; which had brought the science of irrigation to such a degree of perfection that the effects of its application could be computed with all the accuracy of a mathematical problem; which, as far as the eye could reach on every side, displayed the apparatus which had evoked these marvels of intelligent husbandry,—that art which forms the indispensable foundation and bond of society,-water-wheels a hundred feet in diameter; reservoirs on whose ample surface naval spectacles might be exhibited; dikes of prodigious height and of cyclopean masonry; canals not inferior in their length and volume to rivers; a maze of siphons, sluices, and rivulets which, by concerted signals, at regular intervals, discharged their rushing waters through field and garden and into bath and fountain; majestic aqueducts which in dimensions and massiveness might vie with even the gigantic and imperishable monuments of Roman antiquity. On the face of the cliffs, hewn in the solid rock, were spacious galleries and caves, wherein were deposited the surplus of the harvests, as a security against siege and a resource in time of famine.

In addition to the great seaports,—each a commercial metropolis and once the capital of an independent principality,—three hundred towns and villages, many of them of considerable size, acknowledged the authority of the kings of Granada. Of these, fifty were of sufficient importance to be provided with mosques, presided over by the expounders of the Koran. In accordance with the customs of the Orient, the inhabitants of each manufacturing district exercised a single occupation, the knowledge of which had been transmitted from father to son through many generations. Baza produced the finest silks, whose beauty and delicacy of texture surpassed the famous fabrics of the Chinese and the Byzantine looms,—those destined for the use of royalty being interwoven with the portrait and the cipher of the monarch in threads of many colors and of gold; in Albacete were forged weapons not inferior in temper and design to the scimetars and daggers of Toledo, and damascened with all the skill of the Syrian artificer; from the shops of Hisn-Xubiles came furniture of ebony and sandal-wood inlaid with mother-of-pearl and ivory, and filigree jewelry of exquisite patterns; Granada was renowned for its enamels, its mosaics curiously wrought and fused with the precious metals, its woollens, its silk brocades, and its coral-colored pottery whose polished surface was flecked with particles of gold. Other towns were distinguished for manufactures of equal utility and beauty; castings and implements of bronze; silken veils and mantles; leathern hangings embossed and gilt with all the elegance of a sumptuously covered volume,—a legacy of the Ommeyade capital, from whence the material derived its name of Cordovan; paper of great fineness and durability made from flax and cotton; and mats of palm and esparto, soft and flexible, and dyed with brilliant colors.

The culminating point of this marvellous development of architectural magnificence, commercial prosperity, and intellectual culture was the ancient Moorish capital. From its peculiar situation and the color of its buildings, it had early received the romantic and appropriate appellation of Hisn-al-Romman, The Castle of the Pomegranate. The plain, or Vega, which extended in a semicircle before it, for a distance of ten leagues, resembled a garden evoked by the genius of enchantment. The roads which traversed it were bordered with hedges of myrtle, mingled with orange- and lemon-trees, and overshadowed by the palm and the cypress. Everywhere the ear was greeted with the grateful sound of murmuring waters, whose channels were concealed by the dense vegetation that grew along the banks. Above the foliage of laurel and oleander appeared the red-tiled roofs of picturesque cottages, whose snowy walls were often entirely covered with the roses trained upon them. In the poetic imagery of the Arab they were likened to “so many Orient pearls set in a cup of emerald.” Towering above all other structures, and projected against the azure depths of an Andalusian sky, were the minarets of numerous mosques, inlaid with colored tiles, belted with gorgeous inscriptions, sparkling with gold. In the spacious court of each of these temples was a marble fountain, and rows of orange-trees and odoriferous shrubs, whose fragrance, wafted through lofty doors and stucco lattices, permeated the interior. A hundred and thirty mills, whose wheels were turned by the swift currents of the Genil and the Darro, were required to grind the produce of the abundant harvests and to supply the capital with bread. Within the walls of that capital, which, with their thousand towers, enclosed a vast and thickly settled area, were the homes of more than five hundred thousand people. Access was obtained by means of twenty gates. The principal ones of town and palace were those of the Tower of the Seven Stories, and of Justice. The former, of grand and imposing dimensions, was faced with the beautiful marble of Macael, exquisitely carved. The latter, still one of the most striking memorials of the Moorish domination, faced the holy shrine of Mecca.

In the mercantile portion of the city the streets were so crooked and narrow that a single armed horseman could barely traverse them, a condition attributable to climatic and defensive precautions; the interminable bazaars were composed of a multitude of little shops modelled after those of the great Moslem communities of the East; the public buildings—the mosques, the colleges, the hospitals, the insane asylums—were upon a scale of magnificence elsewhere unknown, and scarcely exceeded by those of the khalifate during the period of its greatest splendor. The baths, whose institution and adornment the luxurious Moslem regarded as a part of his religion, were embellished with precious mosaics and many-colored marbles, and surrounded by beautiful gardens filled with fragrant and delicious flowers. The Spanish Moslem never suffered himself to forget that water had ever been the most precious treasure of his Bedouin ancestors. Its offer was the first and an indispensable courtesy to a guest. Always in sight in private houses, it dripped from the sides of porous alcarrazas; or, in the palaces of the emirs, filled exquisite vases standing on either side of the portal in niches where the prodigal fancy of the Moorish architect had exhausted all the resources of his decorative skill. There was not a dwelling, even of the humblest character, in Granada unprovided with an abundant supply of the purest water. The streets, always clean, were sluiced at frequent intervals. Around the fountains, in every court-yard, grew aromatic plants. In the mansions of the wealthy, the refreshing jets that cooled the summer air in winter were replaced by the hypocaust, which diffused a genial warmth through apartments hung with silken tapestry and glittering with rich enamels.

No description can convey an adequate idea of the splendors of this peerless city. Built upon the sloping sides of the Sierra Nevada, whose lofty peaks protected it from the winter blast and tempered the torrid air of summer, it stood three thousand feet above the level of the sea. Its walls, models of mediæval fortification, were nearly seven miles in circumference. Far above the roofs of the houses and the groves of palm, of elm, and of cypress, scattered through the parks and gardens, rose graceful minarets, observatories, cupolas, towers, to the enormous number of fourteen thousand. Of these, some were incased in many-colored mosaics; others were covered with lace-like arabesques gilt and painted; all were furnished with arched windows divided by columns of marble; some were roofed with porcelain tiles of brilliant colors, others with plates of gilded bronze.

The suburbs of the city, seventeen in all, were occupied by the royal villas and the mansions of the nobles, which not infrequently vied with the palaces of the Sultan in the magnificence of their appointments and the elegance of their surroundings. The quarter of the Albaycin, so called from the refugees of Baeza to whom Mohammed I. had afforded an asylum, had presented with homes, and had exempted from tribute, contained ten thousand houses. Its defences had been largely constructed by Don Gonzalo de Zuñiga, the Bishop of Jaen, from whom the erection of the stupendous wall had been exacted as a ransom. The mosque of the Albaycin was one of the most exquisite structures of the kind in the kingdom.

In the centre of the city was the Alcazaba, at once fortress and palace, its frowning bulwarks and crenellated towers in close juxtaposition to the orchards of tropical fruits, labyrinths of verdure, and sparkling fountains which formed the delight of its inmates and the admiration of foreigners,—an edifice long antedating the Alhambra and whose origin is lost in antiquity; for centuries the seat of government, the source of military, political, and religious influence; a building which, swept away by the violence of the conqueror, is now remembered only in barbarous chronicles and uncertain traditions. Here also was the castle of Habus,—that monarch to whom popular credulity, unable otherwise to account for his prodigious wealth, attributed the possession of the philosopher’s stone,—surmounted by the bronze effigy of a Moorish warrior on horseback, armed with a double-headed lance, which turned with every breeze, whose existence, ascribed to enchanters, was supposed to be inseparably connected with the fate of the city, and which the fears of the superstitious had invested with the virtues of a powerful talisman. In the very centre of the population, surrounded by the turmoil of a great commercial capital, stood the Djalma, or principal mosque. While vastly inferior in dimensions, splendor, and sanctity to the great temple of Cordova, it was long one of the holiest shrines of the Moslem world. Its arches were supported by columns of marble and jasper. Its floor was formed of blue and white enamelled tiles. From its shallow cupolas, glittering with golden stars, were suspended innumerable lamps. Its mihrab was encrusted with mosaics. In its court-yard the waters gushed from pipes of bronze and silver into a basin of alabaster.

Adjoining the mosque, in accordance with the custom which always placed institutions of learning and places of worship together, was the famous University of Granada. Founded by Yusuf I., under whose personal supervision its building was erected, its treasury had been enriched by the munificence of every succeeding sovereign. In its general appearance that building resembled those elsewhere raised for public uses by the piety or the ostentation of the emirs of Granada. As if in open defiance of the rule of the Koran, which sternly prohibited the representation of animal forms, the portals of an edifice largely devoted to the study of that volume were guarded by lions carved in stone. Its apartments, admirably adapted to the purposes for which they were designed, were almost destitute of ornamentation, in order that the attention of the scholar might not be diverted from his studies. Appropriate texts and legends from the works of celebrated writers were inscribed upon the walls in letters of gold. Here were taught the natural and the exact sciences,—law, theology, philosophy, chemistry, astronomy, and medicine. A great number of eminent men, renowned in every branch of literature and in every useful profession, are mentioned by Arab biographers as having received their education at the University of Granada. The halls were open even to the national enemy, and the Castilian obtained in a hostile capital those principles of knowledge which his native country was unable to afford.

It was the last institution of learning worthy of the name left in the Peninsula. It was the exponent of scientific method, of intellectual advancement, of liberal thought, of enlightened toleration; the final refuge of Moorish culture which, expelled by armed force from its ancient seat upon the Guadalquivir, had implored the protection of a race of kings who emulated with distinguished success the noble example of the khalifs, it represented the flickering ray of a civilization which, during an epoch most conspicuous in the history of national development, had illumined with noonday splendor the darkness of mediæval Europe.

Originally settled by members of the military division of Damascus who served in the army of Musa, Granada ever loved to boast a fanciful and traditional resemblance to the famous capital of Syria. But that capital, with all its magnificence, rising like an enchanted vision from the desert, could never compare in picturesqueness of situation, in productiveness of soil, in salubrity of climate, in architectural splendor, with the beautiful city of the Spanish emirs. Attracted by the purity of its atmosphere, the inhabitants of Africa sought, amidst its verdant groves and refreshing waters, relief from the ailments induced by the sultry and malarial vapors of the coast. The fame of their kinsmen frequently prompted the sultans of Fez to cross the sea, and become sometimes suppliants for favor, sometimes suitors for the hand of Moorish princesses, traversing with their swarthy retinues the streets upon carpets of flowers and under canopies of silk and gold.

The fate of the Hispano-Arab empire had always been closely associated with the policy of the states of Northern Africa. Thence had come the invading army which, like an irresistible tempest, swept away the Visigothic monarchy. Thence came the Almoravides, who seized the throne of the Ommeyade Khalifate, and the hordes of fanatics who had levelled the remaining monuments of civilization with the dust. The princes of Granada had been alternately the vassals and the allies of the sultans of Fez, Tunis, and Tlemcen, but never their masters. For generations African garrisons occupied the keys of the Peninsula,—Algeziras, Gibraltar, Tarifa.

The political sagacity of Mohammed I. had early recognized the necessity of maintaining amicable relations with his Mauritanian neighbors. From his reign the prayer for the Sultan was offered daily in every mosque. Magnificent embassies, bearing valuable gifts, frequently solicited his friendship. His intervention was sought in settlement of the pretensions of rival claimants to the throne. The fiercest warriors of the Atlas Mountains were enrolled in the guard of the emirs. The Gomeres, the Zegris, and the Abencerrages were permanently established in different quarters of the city which were long distinguished by their names; and the African influence represented by the bloody feuds of these jealous tribesmen exerted no inconsiderable effect upon the ultimate fate of the kingdom of Granada.

The general attractions of the populous and luxurious capital, manifold as they were, paled, however, before the splendors of the royal palaces. Of these, nine in number, the chief in extent and beauty was the Alhambra. Rising upon a jutting promontory of the Sierra, its highest point towered five hundred feet above the city. A double wall surrounded it; the outer line of circumvallation enclosing an oval half a mile in length by seven hundred and thirty feet in its greatest diameter. Here were domiciled all the numerous officials and retainers of an Oriental court and the ministers of religion, the viziers, the faquis, the muftis, the kadis, the guards, the relatives of the monarch, and the discarded sultanas. Oxide of iron in the plaster which covered the walls had imparted to them a coral hue, from whence the imposing pile derived its name of Medina-al-Hamra, The Red City. The battlements were painted white, and, projected against the brilliant green of the mountain-side, were visible for a distance of many leagues. The palace itself, isolated by a wall and a moat, was of vast dimensions and of quadrangular form. In the centre and at each corner was a court with encircling galleries, charming: pavilions, and innumerable fountains. At the right of the entrance, in accordance with Oriental custom, was the apartment where the Emir, or, in his absence, the kadi, daily dispensed justice. Beyond, opening upon the largest court in the palace, was the great hall of audience, devoted to grand ceremonials,—coronations, royal festivals, and the reception of foreign ambassadors. Its dome, inlaid with ivory and gold upon a surface of blue, green, and scarlet, was sixty feet in height. Its walls were covered with gilded stucco-work upon a ground of brilliant colors; its floor was of great slabs of white marble; in its centre was a fountain of beautiful design. Constructed by the pride and emulous ostentation of many sovereigns, the Alhambra presented an epitome of the progress and the perfection of Arab decorative art. To its magnificence the taste and invention of every Oriental nation had contributed, but the utmost efforts of their skill had been eclipsed by the genius of the native Moorish architects. The arcades of every court, the walls of every apartment, afforded unmistakable evidences of the foreign origin whence was derived the civilization that erected them. In the slender marble pillars could be discerned the tent-poles which sustained the fragile and temporary shelter of the nomad of the Desert. The mural decorations, which in the marvellous delicacy of their intricate patterns resembled silk and gold brocade, were copied from the shawls of Cashmere. In the blue domes, studded with shining stars, the Moslem recognized a representation of the firmament under whose boundless expanse his Syrian ancestors watched their flocks or followed with weary steps the midnight march of the plodding caravan. The grotto-like stalactitic arches and cupolas, modelled after a section of a pomegranate from which the seeds had been removed, were also symbolical of the cave which sheltered the Prophet during his flight from Mecca. In all the truly characteristic and distinctive features of this ornamentation the precepts of the Koran were generally, but not universally, observed. The tracery, fairly bewildering in its complexity, was composed of an infinite variety of combinations of simple, geometric forms. The segments of graceful curves were blended in a thousand fantastic designs with the rich foliage of tropical plants and flowers. The ceilings were made up of different sections of the cube,—triangles, prisms, rhomboids. The interior of an apartment in this gorgeous edifice suggested the influence of the supernatural rather than the ingenuity of man. Its doors, ten feet in height, were inlaid, painted, and gilt. The floor was of glazed tiles and marble; the ceiling of stalactites, resplendent with crimson and gold. The walls were hung with brocaded tapestry and decorated leather. Light was admitted through windows of stained glass on which appeared pious texts and the cipher of the sovereign. Silver censers of globular form diffused everywhere the smoke of rare perfumes. The divans were covered with rich silks striped with many colors. On one side the eye fell upon a court-yard paved with broad slabs of alabaster, in its centre a great fountain supported by twelve grotesque lions; on the other, it was charmed by a panorama of unequalled grandeur and beauty,—a view of hill and valley, of palace and hamlet, of villa and plantation, refreshed by a myriad of sparkling rivulets, fragrant with the intoxicating odors of countless gardens, framed in a gorgeous setting of empurpled mountains, verdant plain, and firmament of the clearest blue. Not without reason did the Emir of Granada liken his abode to Paradise!

In the decorations of this enchanted palace nothing exceeded in elegance the inscriptions, in which might be read its history and the sentiments and aspirations of its royal founders. Some were texts taken from the Koran. Others were selections from the poems of famous writers. On the capitals of columns appeared the cheerful greetings, “Prosperity,” “Happiness,” “Blessing.” The Cufic and the Neshki characters lent themselves with peculiar facility to this method of ornamentation. Artistic ingenuity had so disposed the letters that they could be read in either direction; and skilfully inserted in many legends of double significance were the names and the nationality of the craftsmen who had executed the work. Amidst the maze of tracery were emblazoned the arms of the kings of Granada, bestowed upon the first of the Alhamares by Ferdinand III.,—a shield of crimson crossed by a golden bar held in the mouths of dragons and inscribed with the motto, “There is no conqueror but God.”

In the summer portion of the palace the walls of enormous thickness, the dimly lighted apartments, the marble lattices, the lace-like spandrels through which passed, without obstruction, the lightest breeze, the perpetual ripple of waters, banished from the minds of the inmates even the idea of the discomforts of a semi-tropical climate. The winter palace, of larger dimensions, while certainly not inferior in elegance to the remainder of the edifice, afforded less opportunity for the display of architectural magnificence. The rooms were smaller, and the distribution of water confined to the necessities of religious and sanitary ablution. Warmth was distributed by the Roman hypocaust, a system of earthenware pipes similar in arrangement to a modern furnace. A higher degree of temperature was obtained by the use of metal globes filled with burning charcoal, which were rolled over the floors of the apartments. A bath, the luxury of whose apartments was unsurpassed in the realm of Islam, offered that voluptuous indulgence which was to the devout Moslem a sacred obligation, enjoined by his creed and inculcated by the traditions of centuries.

The mosque of the Alhambra, raised by the piety of Mohammed III., was recognized by all Moslems as one of the most exquisite temples of their religion. Its foundations had been laid by the toil of Christian captives. The expense of its erection as well as the revenues required by the worship celebrated within its walls—a worship which far exceeded in ostentatious splendor that of the Great Mosque of the city—were largely derived from the proceeds of forays and the tributes levied upon the Jewish and Christian population. Its materials were the rarest and most expensive that could be procured. Columns of jasper, of porphyry, of Numidian marble, and of alabaster sustained its arches, enriched with delicate stuccoes and inlaid with lazulite and onyx. The bases and capitals of these columns were of silver carved in arabesques and flowers. From the ceiling, painted with blue and gold, hung fifty lamps of shell, mother-of-pearl, and bronze, whose light was tempered by rose-colored shades of silken gauze. In its tile-work, its legends, its mosaics, its harmoniously blended hues, the Moorish artificer had exhausted every device of human skill. Adjoining the mosque was the pantheon, wherein, deposited in caskets of massy silver, were entombed the emirs of Granada. Their marble sarcophagi were ranged around a sombre vault, whose roof, like that of the Mihrab of the Djalma of Cordova, was chiselled in imitation of a shell.

Within the great circuit of the Alhambra were many secret apartments, subterranean passages, and galleries subservient to the uses of the eunuchs and the garrison, which communicated with the fortifications of the city. In the gardens, of which there were several, the capricious taste of the Arab was disclosed by peculiarities of floral embellishment,—walks paved with colored pebbles in arabesque patterns; beds of myrtle representing meadows in which grew plants and diminutive trees of the same vegetation clipped into forms of perfect symmetry; royal ciphers and pious legends traced in flowers of scarlet, purple, white, and yellow on a field of emerald green. The riotous fancy of Moorish genius attained its maximum development in the construction of this palace, celebrated by every traveller of ancient and modern times as unrivalled in picturesque elegance and beauty. In the delightful villas within the walls or adjacent to the city, the emirs, in the company of their favorite slaves, were accustomed to pass many months of the year. All of them resembled the Alhambra in arrangement and decoration, yet each was distinguished from the others by some peculiarity from which it derived its name. In one was a labyrinth of waters,—streams, cascades, and fountains, whose jets were projected to the height of sixty feet; another was famed for the virtues of a medicinal spring; in a third was an immense artificial lake; to another was attached an aviary filled with the song-birds of every clime.

The channels of three great aqueducts which supplied the city and palaces were in many places tunnelled through the solid rock. Their waters were also utilized for mining purposes, the cliffs in the vicinity of the Darro being especially rich in mineral deposits. The daily rental of a single mountain in the rear of the Alhambra, where toiled four hundred Christian slaves, amounted to two hundred ducats of gold. From the royal demesnes, thirty in number, an annual income of twenty-five thousand dinars, or four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, was derived; and in addition to this great sum were the revenues from the mines, the forests, the pastures, the ransom of captives, and the tribute of vassals. At the roll of the Moorish atabal fifty thousand soldiers sprang to arms. Of these, eight thousand cavalry—the most splendid in equipment, the most rapid in evolution, of any similar force in Europe—were quartered with twenty-five thousand cross-bowmen in the Alhambra. The entire available military force of the kingdom was not less than three hundred thousand men.

An examination of the character of the inhabitants of Granada reveals to us one of the many causes of their fall. They are described as incredibly selfish, as deficient in humanity, without sympathy for the living or reverence for the dead. In times of scarcity, the superfluity of the rich was abused for the oppression of the poor. They celebrated their riotous festivals in the vicinity of cemeteries. That humble piety which is at once the merit and the security of a people was extinct. The most sacred precepts of religion were constantly violated. In the infidel University of Granada the maxims of Averroes and other heretics of the Cordovan school were publicly taught. The use of wine was almost universal; and the fasts enjoined by Mohammed were transformed into scenes of wassail and license. Charity was refused alike to the worthy unfortunate and the brazen impostor. The schools of theology were full of scoffers and hypocrites. In the congregations of the mosques, the women outnumbered members of the other sex ten to one. The delineation of animal forms, that abomination of the devout Moslem, was everywhere visible,—on the arms of the sovereign, on the public fountains, on the ramparts, on the ceilings of palaces, in the institutions of learning, at the very portals of edifices dedicated to the study of the Koran. The monarch, to whose example the people naturally turned for instruction and whose family traced its genealogy in a direct line to the Ansares, the Companions of the Prophet, was not infrequently the first to violate the maxims of a religion of which he was the acknowledged representative. The entire population was deficient in the principle of cohesion indispensable to the maintenance of political power. Its elements were composed of the antagonistic fragments of a hundred tribes and factions. Sectarian prejudice had been succeeded by undisguised hostility. Familiarity with assassination, the impunity of frequent revolt, the exile of princes, the recurrence of civil war, a succession of usurpers, had practically abrogated the principle of loyalty. Without attachment to the soil, without reverence for the throne, without incentives to national independence, without aspirations for national glory, even the appearance of patriotism could not exist. Enervated by luxury, the military spirit, which sometimes prolongs the existence of moribund nations, had ceased to display that ferocious energy which had so frequently led the armies of Islam to victory. Twice had large bodies of the citizens of Granada, exasperated by tyranny, resolved on expatriation, and solicited the protection of the kings of Castile. In the final struggle, the Christian invader found no allies so useful as those partisans hopelessly contending for political supremacy, and willing to sacrifice home, honor, religion, liberty, provided their countrymen of a hostile faction might be involved with themselves in a common destruction. The Spanish Moslems had reached a point in their development beyond which, as a people, they could not pass. With them, as with all others, the epoch marked by the perfection of mechanical ingenuity, by the climax of artistic excellence, by the superiority of mental culture, was coincident with the period of national decay. Their civilization, however dazzling it might appear, shone with a false and delusive lustre. Its promoters founded a great and opulent state. They improved the practice of every art, they extended the productive power of every industry. They patronized letters with unstinted liberality. They based their religious policy upon the broad and statesmanlike principle of universal toleration. In their conquests, as far as was consistent with national security, they recognized the rights of humanity and forbearance. From the most unpromising origin resulted achievements of surpassing grandeur and pre-eminent value. The migratory Bedouin of the Desert, with no home but a low tent open to the air and possessing no idea whatever of substantial architecture or mural ornamentation, when brought under the influence of Greek and Roman antiquity and of the stupendous structures of the Valley of the Nile, rapidly developed into the most accomplished of decorators and architects. The descendants of the conquerors of Egypt who burned the Alexandrian library founded the University of Cordova and formed the great collections of the khalifate. A race whose progenitors lived by violence and whose name was synonymous with rapine established schools of law, secured the safety of the highways by the maintenance of a vigilant police, and became renowned for their administration of rigid and impartial justice. The seal of that civilization was impressed more deeply upon the monuments, upon the life, upon the traditions of Granada, than upon those of any other locality which had experienced the magical effects of its influence and its example. That kingdom had long survived the wreck of the empire. Within its borders were to be found specimens of architectural splendor which the wildest visions of Oriental fancy could not surpass. To the scholar, it was the seat of learning and the home of poesy; to the merchant, the centre of a vast and profitable commerce; to the traveller, a far more pleasing and instructive subject of study than the pageantry of Roman superstition or the melancholy exhibition of Byzantine pride and impotence. The imaginative peasant, whose mind had been nourished from childhood with tales of wonder, regarded his country as a land of enchantment. Especially was this true of the capital. Its approaches were guarded by talismans. Its towers were peopled by demons. A thousand fantastic legends adorned the story of its princes, the lives of its heroes, the foundation of its citadel, the erection of its palaces. Its incomparable monuments, apparently transcending the efforts of human power, were attributed to genii enslaved by magicians. Inscribed alike upon the portals of royal villa and peasant’s hut was the cabalistic hand, of potent efficacy against the dreaded evil-eye. Over all the city and its attributes popular superstition spread a veil of romantic and unearthly influence, which to our day has never been removed; symbolized by the artificer in forms universally believed to conceal some mysterious significance; in the carvings of architrave and capital; in the blending of characters in inscription and cipher; in the verdant labyrinths of the terraced gardens that encircled her fair brows as with a coronet; in the bursting pomegranate, in field of silver, emblazoned on her arms.

Such was Granada on the eve of the Conquest. Well might Castilian ambition covet such a prize! Well might the Moslem, proud of the commercial pre-eminence of his country, intoxicated with her beauty, mindful of her immortal souvenirs, conscious of her impending fate, refer with Oriental hyperbole to her fair metropolis as, “Court of the Universe,” “Throne of Andaluz,” “Mother of Peoples,” “Pomegranate of Rubies,” “Diadem of Roses,” “City of Cities!” She had fulfilled her magnificent destiny in the world of science, of art, of letters. She had created imperishable monuments of her intellectual power. The star of her glory, long past its meridian, was now rapidly hastening to its setting.

The implacable struggle for national existence on the one hand, for religious and political supremacy on the other, was now about to assume a new and a more decisive character. With much show of reason the Spaniard regarded the Arab as the usurper of his hereditary rights. With a valor and an inflexible tenacity of purpose scarcely paralleled in any age, he had for centuries prosecuted the recovery of his ancient patrimony in the arduous and bloody path of conquest. Undismayed by physical obstacles, undaunted by repeated reverses, never yielding what was once within his iron grasp, he had finally advanced to the gates of the last infidel stronghold. In his ruthless progress he was no unworthy type of the Genius of Destruction. The charming landscape he encountered he transformed into a blackened desert. The shrines of a hostile faith, embellished with the most exquisite labors ever bestowed by the hands of popular reverence and royal prodigality upon the altars of God, were demolished or purposely suffered to fall into decay. The smoke of his camp-fires begrimed the walls of gilded palaces. Historic records of former ages, priceless relics of antiquity, scientific instruments, were delivered to the flames. His energy, his sincerity, his bravery, however, could never be called in question. The simple Roman sword, the emblem of courage, the symbol of power and dominion, which is carved upon the tomb of Pelayus in the valley of Covadonga, was the worthy precursor of those trenchant blades that hewed their way from the mist-enshrouded defiles of the Asturian Mountains to the rose-clad slopes of the Sierra Nevada, and established, amidst the sack of cities and the extermination of an industrious and accomplished people, the awful tyranny of ecclesiastical avarice and inquisitorial power. Every impediment had been surmounted by the indomitable perseverance, fanaticism, and ambition of the Crusader. New sovereigns now controlled the destinies of his country. For generations the principal adversary of Granada had been the kingdom of Castile, impoverished in resources, divided by faction, exhausted by warfare, weakened in authority. The union of the two great realms of the Peninsula brought into the contest the hardy population and the unimpaired vigor of Aragon. In Castile a great social and political revolution had been effected. The claims of the nobility, inconsistent with the dignity and the prerogatives of the crown, had been curtailed or abolished. The possession of a title or the occupancy of a mountain stronghold no longer conferred immunity from the punishment of crime. Treasures and demesnes extorted by violence or procured by fraud from the weakness of former princes were relinquished. Feudal privileges, the subject of constant abuse and encroachment since the foundation of the monarchy, were sternly retrenched. Civil disorder was suppressed. Through the agency of a vigilant military police, which in the pursuit of offenders was no respecter of rank, the highways became safe, and commerce revived. With the return of public security, national development received a new and powerful impetus. The seaports, long deserted, were filled with vessels. The stores of capital, secreted from royal and aristocratic rapacity, gradually found their way into the channels of trade. A debased currency which had impaired public credit and produced repeated financial disasters was replaced by a legitimate coinage of universally recognized value. The folly of Henry IV. had authorized the establishment of private mints, the standard of whose product was regulated solely by the necessities or the avarice of their proprietors. These were abolished, and all coins now bore the royal stamp, a substantial guaranty of their worth and genuineness. With the decline of feudal privileges the influence and the importance of the middle class increased. That class, ever constituting the most valuable portion of the social fabric, dependent for its existence upon the security of trade and the practice of industry, could not survive amidst the incessant disorder of feud and sedition. For many generations a vast interval had separated the majestic castle of the noble from the filthy hovel of the serf, whose occupants represented the two most numerous castes of society. Royal authority now interposed to especially protect those whom political experience had proved might constitute a safe and effective bulwark against aristocratic aggression. It was an age of religious as well as of political transition. The Church was not yet sufficiently strong to persecute. The Crown could not yet venture to support the ecclesiastical with the secular power. The Inquisition had not yet raised its menacing and bloody hand to stifle thought and check the exertion of every generous impulse, but it was even then soliciting recognition; the glory of its establishment was reserved for the pious Isabella. As a result of toleration based upon the consciousness of weakness, the sectaries of other religions, heedless of impending disaster, pursued their avocations in peace. The rancor of mediæval prejudice did not prevent the shrewd and obsequious Jew from buying his cargoes or negotiating his loans. The Mudejar, who had, perhaps without reluctance, exchanged the capricious despotism of his hereditary rulers for the suspicious protection of an ancient foe, exercised, in a delusive tranquillity, those agricultural and mechanical occupations which had conferred such blessings upon his race. In addition to other important considerations, the tribute collected from this heretical population brought no inconsiderable revenue into the royal treasury. The once discordant elements of Christian authority in the Peninsula had been reconciled; what had formerly been its weakness was now its firmest support; dissensions had been supplanted by affectionate loyalty; a protracted truce had insured the development of national strength; and the disputes and prejudices of a score of hostile and semi-independent states had been forgotten in the inauguration of the bold and subtle policy which, almost imperceptibly and without determined resistance, had established and consolidated a formidable monarchy.

The accession of the princes under whose auspices these grand results were achieved is coincident with the beginning of one of the most important periods mentioned in history. Not only were the political conditions of the age eminently favorable to the increase of Spanish power, but every adventitious circumstance seemed to contribute directly to that end. The nobles were exhausted by generations of discord. Feudalism, carried to extremes, had become synonymous with irresponsible tyranny. The people were weary of revolution. The spirit of loyalty, always strong in the chivalrous Castilian, required but the assertion of regal authority to be revived in all its original fervor and intensity. The inherent and fatal weakness of Granada, whose treasures were greater than those possessed by any other country in Europe, was well known to its enemies. Their cupidity, long since aroused by the ostentatious exhibition of fabulous wealth; their fanatical zeal, stimulated by the Papal blessing and the unlimited distribution of indulgences, urged them to the gratification of the most powerful passions which dominate humanity. The apparent strength of the Moslem kingdom was illusory. Its vitality had long been sapped by border conflict and domestic convulsion. Its capacity for resistance was not proportionate to the formidable character of its bulwarks, the number of its inhabitants, the value of its resources, the spirit of its traditions, the gallantry of its defenders, or the measure of its renown. Before the first well-concerted attack it must inevitably fall.

The sovereigns upon whom had devolved the task of erasing from the Peninsula the last vestige of Moslem ascendancy were, in many respects, admirably qualified for the undertaking. Ferdinand was experienced beyond his years; practised in that school which taught that duplicity was the highest development of political wisdom; tried by the dangers and the vicissitudes which in an age of national disorder beset the path of princes; of mediocre abilities and limited education; incapable of sincere attachment; of undoubted courage, yet inclined to negotiation rather than to violence; moderate in the indulgence of his pleasures; abstemious in diet, and shabby in dress almost to parsimony; frigid in temperament, yet dissolute; taciturn and vigilant; suspicious, arbitrary, and imperturbable; without faith or integrity where momentous public interests were involved; a bigot rather from policy than from principle; narrow, selfish, and crafty; stern, sullen, merciless, imperious; equally ready to conciliate an enemy or to sacrifice a friend.

In Isabella was typified the prevalent spirit of the age,—a spirit of superstition, of credulity, of intolerance, ever manifesting a blind devotion to the ministers of religion, ever sanctioning an uncompromising severity in dealing with heretics. Her talents for administration and command were far superior to those of her husband. Her heart was not always insensible to the dictates of pity. She had received the best education which the restricted opportunities of the time afforded. It was her masculine genius which projected and carried into execution the reforms that assured the prosperity of her kingdom and re-established the dignity of the throne. Her prophetic foresight was often obscured by her deference to ecclesiastical authority. She accepted the theories of Columbus after they had been repudiated as absurd and blasphemous by the wisest of her councillors. It was at her own request that the Pope issued the bull which established the Inquisition. Her character was a singular compound of the amazon and the saint. She was equally at home in the cloister and in the camp; listening to the solemn anthems of the mass or surrounded by the clash of arms. Her missal, bearing evidence of constant usage, is one of the most precious relics of the Cathedral of Granada. Her sword and her armor of proof, beautifully wrought and inlaid with gold, are preserved in the museum of Madrid. With the economy of an ordinary housewife, she spun, wove, and stitched her own garments and those of her family. With placid equanimity, she never suffered herself to be elated by success or depressed by misfortune. The universal popularity she enjoyed did much to atone for the stolid and repulsive nature of her husband. In an age of unbounded licentiousness,—practised by every class and excused by ecclesiastical indulgence and royal example,—no suspicion of scandal ever attached to her name. Without those charms of face and figure which in exalted personages have had no small influence on the destiny of empires, her manners were unusually pleasing and attractive. Her commanding ability dominated the mean and disingenuous Ferdinand. She maintained with inflexible firmness the ancient prerogatives of Castile. Courage, magnanimity, tact, candor, benevolence, were among her most conspicuous virtues. Yet Torquemada, the first Grand Inquisitor of Spain, was her favorite confessor, and the awful tortures and subsequent exile of the Hebrew population of the Peninsula were inflicted with her hearty co-operation and approval. The inflexible resolution of Isabella was one of the most striking traits of her remarkable character. Once determined upon the accomplishment of a design, she pursued it unflinchingly to the end. By the fiery Spanish youth their queen was regarded with an affectionate reverence shared only by the Virgin. The moral effect produced upon the Castilian soldiery by her appearance in the field was greater than the confidence inspired by many battalions. Fortunate, indeed, was the knight whose prowess evoked from the lips of his royal mistress words of commendation, more precious in his eyes than the tumultuous applause of multitudes or the deafening acclamations of mighty armies.

It was well for the Christian cause that its power had been thus consolidated, for never during the period of the Arab domination had it been called upon to encounter a more formidable adversary. Muley Hassan, Emir of Granada, though advanced in years, still retained all the enthusiasm of youth, tempered by the wisdom and experience of age. From his very childhood he had been familiar with the exercise of arms. He was long accounted one of the best lances in the kingdom. Foremost in every warlike enterprise, he was the terror of the frontier years before he ascended the throne. Since his accession, his neighbors had had frequent occasion to acknowledge the boldness of his undertakings, the rapidity of his movements, the unrelenting cruelty of his character. The hatred he bore to the infidels had not been diminished by their gratuitous intervention in behalf of rebels in arms against his authority. His personal inclinations were towards unremitting hostility. The literary traditions of his dynasty were, to this fierce warrior, but so many manifestations of folly and cowardice. He repudiated with haughty contempt the claim of superiority implied in the tribute extorted by Castilian arrogance from the policy or the fears of his predecessors. The faith of treaties he observed so far as it suited his convenience and no farther.

The domestic relations of Muley Hassan had already given indications of those fatal quarrels eventually destined to cause the disruption of the monarchy. His sultana, Ayesha, a princess of great abilities and undaunted resolution, was the mother of two sons, the elder of whom, heir apparent to the throne, was the famous Abdallah, known to the Christians as Boabdil, devoted by fate to a life of strange vicissitudes and to a melancholy end. The amorous old king had long since discarded the Moorish princess for a beautiful Christian slave, designated in Spanish romance and tradition as Doña Isabel de Solis, but known to Moorish chroniclers by the poetic appellation of Zoraya, “The Star of the Morning.” Ayesha, inflamed with rage and jealousy, neglected no opportunity to persecute her rival and annoy her lord. Of noble birth and possessed of unlimited wealth, she readily enlisted in her behalf many adherents of rank and power. The ever-available pretext of an unpopular vizier was successfully invoked. The Zegris and the Abencerrages, infected with the tribal prejudices of the Desert and constant rivals for royal favor, willingly lent their aid; the former adhered to the Emir, the influence of the latter was cast with the opposing party. The populace of Granada, delighting in innovation and prone to revolt, chose sides in the controversy at a time when national union was an imperative necessity; when even the hearty co-operation of every class and clan might have been insufficient to avert the impending tempest; when internal dissension was certain to facilitate the designs of the Christians. Popular discontent had, as yet, only manifested itself in a few unimportant riots, which had been suppressed with trifling bloodshed; when the apprehension of the common enemy suspended, for the moment, the implacable resentment of the rival factions.

Having adjusted the internal affairs of their kingdom, secure in their authority, and eager for renown, Ferdinand and Isabella lost no time in despatching an embassy to Granada, instructed to demand the arrears of tribute, an explanation of violated treaties, and an acknowledgment of their own suzerainty. The envoy, Don Juan de Vera, whose splendid retinue had been provided with everything calculated to impress the Moors with the grandeur and power of the Spanish monarchy, brought back a message of defiance. “Return,” said the ferocious old Emir, “and say to your masters that the monarchs of Granada who paid tribute to the Christians are dead. Nothing for our enemies is now made here but lance-heads and scimetars!” The insolent reply of the Moorish king, whom he regarded in the light of a rebellious vassal, exasperated the usually phlegmatic Ferdinand. In an outburst of fury, he exclaimed, “I will tear out the seeds of this pomegranate one by one;” and, with a grim determination to exact a signal revenge, in concert with the Queen he despatched messengers to the powerful nobles throughout his dominions acquainting them with the result of the embassy and ordering them to prepare for war.

By no one was this notification of impending hostilities received with greater satisfaction than by Don Rodrigo Ponce de Leon, Marquis of Cadiz. That personage, destined to figure so prominently in the Conquest as to be generally recognized as its animating spirit, was the representative of one of the greatest houses of the kingdom. With the Duke of Medina-Sidonia, long his feudal rival, he divided the richest estates of Andalusia. Confident of the success which would excuse his rashness, he summoned his retainers, made a sudden foray as far as the environs of Ronda, destroyed the town of Mercadillo, and returned to Arcos loaded with spoil. The pugnacious Muley Hassan could ill brook this insult to his dignity, and he at once determined upon a counterstroke. The fortress of Zahara, captured from the Moors by Ferdinand of Antequera, was the object of his hostility. It was a typical mediæval stronghold. Built upon a pyramidal hill, its natural and artificial defences defied an ordinary attack. But the garrison was small, the supplies inadequate, and the governor disheartened and careless from the affliction of a recent domestic calamity. With the greatest secrecy and celerity, the King issued with his troops from Granada, traversed the mountains by difficult and unfrequented paths, and at night, in the midst of a fearful storm, appeared before Zahara. Aided by the obscurity and the noise of the storm, the Moorish soldiery scaled the walls. The garrison was put to the sword. Many citizens were killed in their beds; the survivors, drenched with rain, spattered with blood, and quaking with cold and terror, collected in the public square, and, exposed to the full fury of the tempest, were guarded there till daylight by a troop of Berber horsemen. Three days afterwards they were exposed for sale in the slave-market of Granada.

The Moorish wars of Spain were essentially wars of reprisals. The military expeditions of one side were usually followed by corresponding incursions of the other. A protracted campaign with the immense expense involved in the maintenance of an army and the prosecution of a siege had heretofore, except in a few instances, been beyond the power of the Christians, and contrary to the traditional tactics of the Moors, practised in all the stratagems of guerilla warfare. The martial spirit of both nations was therefore for the most part exercised in those brilliant but indecisive operations which, by a sudden and unexpected attack, could inflict temporary injury on an enemy. After the seizure of Zahara, an exploit of greater importance was necessary to retrieve the credit of the Spanish arms. With this in view, the Marquis of Cadiz despatched spies to examine the condition of the various cities in the kingdom of Granada. This service, although attended with circumstances of the greatest difficulty and peril, was yet one most earnestly solicited by the Spanish cavaliers. Those intrusted with this mission reported that Malaga and Alhama might, with proper precautions, be surprised. Not content with this information, the Marquis sent Ortega del Prado, an experienced engineer, to carefully inspect the surroundings and measure the walls of Alhama. This dangerous task successfully accomplished, the cautious leader proceeded, with the most profound secrecy, to carry his daring plan into execution. An effective force of seven thousand men, commanded by some of the boldest captains of Andalusia, was assembled. Imitating the example of the Moslems, they moved at night and in silence. It is one of the most singular facts in the annals of these wars that large bodies of men could penetrate, with such ease and unobserved, the territory of a foe whom the proximity of constant danger must have rendered habitually vigilant. The hills of Southern Spain are still dotted with the numerous watch-towers raised by the prudence of the Moors, upon whose summits and from the neighboring mountain peaks a chain of signal-fires conveyed instantaneously the intelligence that the enemy was abroad.

Stealthily the Christian army pursued its way in the darkness under the direction of trusty guides, painfully clambering up the mountain-sides by the uncertain light of the stars, skirting the borders of precipices, hiding in the depths of gloomy ravines, until an hour before dawn on the third day found them in a valley within a mile and a half of Alhama. This city was in the very centre of Granada and was accounted one of the keys of the capital, from which it was but twenty-four miles distant. Under ordinary circumstances an attack upon it seemed hopeless. Situated upon a mountain spur, it was protected by walls not surpassed in height and solidity by those of any fortified place in the Peninsula. A stupendous chasm, several hundred feet in depth, through which rushed the roaring Marchan, defended its approach and enhanced the difficulty of its capture. The hot-baths in its vicinity, known to the Romans and largely patronized by the luxurious inhabitants of the metropolis, had not enervated the mountaineers of Alhama, whose reputation for ferocity and valor had been established in many a frontier skirmish and extended foray. Rendered doubly secure by the natural situation and impregnable bulwarks of the city, the garrison insensibly relaxed its vigilance. No apprehension of an attack was entertained even by the most timorous citizen. The time was especially propitious to a surprise. The governor was absent at Velez-Malaga. An inefficient patrol] was maintained. During the last hour of the night when slumber is deepest, Ortega del Prado, with thirty picked men, planted the ladders and mounted the ramparts of the citadel. A single sentinel was pierced with a score of daggers before he could give the alarm. In the mean time, three hundred soldiers had scaled the walls; the guard, half-awake, perished in its quarters; the garrison rushed to arms; and the shrill notes of the Moorish trumpet, mingled with the shouts of the assailants and the cries of the dying, resounded through the city. The mountaineers, although taken by surprise, were not dismayed. The narrow and crooked streets offered excellent opportunities for defence. These were barricaded, and all access to the gates cut off. The Spaniards were besieged in turn; it was impossible to retire; the steep and contracted entrance to the castle was commanded by the Moorish cross-bowmen and musketeers, whose aim promised almost certain death. Sancho de Avila, Governor of Carmona, and Nicholas de Rojas, Governor of Arcos, in an attempt to lead a forlorn hope, instantly paid the penalty of their rashness, and fell pierced with bolts. The situation was critical. After a day of constant fighting, no foothold had been obtained in the city. The King of Granada was hourly expected. There were no provisions, and the Spaniards outside the walls could not reinforce their comrades. Opinions were divided as to the best course to adopt, but the bold counsels of the Marquis of Cadiz eventually prevailed. A breach was made in the wall of the citadel; through it a number of Spanish knights were enabled to make a sudden sally, and the enemy sullenly retired from his position. Every street now became a battle-ground; from the housetops tiles and stones were rained down upon the Christians; the Moors, animated by the expectation of speedy relief and aware that their most precious interests were at stake, contested every foot of ground with the energy of despair. Driven from the streets, they took refuge in the principal mosque, where for a time they maintained themselves in spite of the most determined attempts to dislodge them. At length, under the shelter of improvised mantelets, the doors were set on fire, and its occupants rushing out were cut to pieces or captured. The burning of the mosque terminated the struggle, a memorable one in the annals of Moorish warfare, both from the audacious character of the enterprise and the intrepid obstinacy of the defence. In no subsequent engagement of the Conquest did the Christians encounter such a desperate resistance. In many respects the taking of Alhama was of great importance. It revealed unmistakably the weakness of the Moslem kingdom, and it placed an enemy’s outpost within a few hours’ march of Granada. It was an ill omen for the permanence of a monarchy when a stronghold of such strategic value could be captured and retained at the very gates of its capital. The spoil of Alhama well repaid the perils incurred to obtain it. It was the wealthiest city of its size in the Moorish dominions. The royal tribute of the entire district was collected there, and it fell into the hands of the victors. The captives numbered three thousand. A great quantity of treasure, of valuable merchandise of every description, of horses and mules, rewarded the daring of the Castilians. Not thinking the city would be permanently occupied, the soldiers hastened to destroy the oil and wheat in the magazines. Scarcely had the work of pillage been completed when a detachment of Moorish cavalry appeared. Unable to retrieve a disaster which rumor had ascribed to a small party of adventurers, after a reconnoissance they returned to Granada. Every effort of the Moorish king was now exerted to retake Alhama before it could be reinforced. His urgent summons rapidly called into the field an army of eighty-one thousand men. With this force he advanced to attack the city, neglecting, in his impetuous anxiety, to avail himself of his fine train of artillery, without which he could not hope for success. Meanwhile, the Christians had not been idle. Realizing their desperate situation, they had despatched messengers to the Catholic sovereigns imploring assistance. Many eminent leaders, whose previous gallantry belied any suspicion of cowardice, counselled retreat. Their remonstrances became more pressing as the great Moslem army deployed about the city, and the convoy with supplies from Antequera, after narrowly escaping capture, was driven back. The Moors were infuriated by the sight of the bodies of their countrymen a prey to dogs, and, disdaining the usual means of protection, dashed forward to scale the battlements. The impregnability of the fortifications of Alhama, when properly defended, now became apparent. The heroic efforts of the besiegers were exerted in vain. The ladders swarming with the lithe and active soldiery were overturned and, with their burdens, dashed to pieces. The missiles of the Christians made great havoc in the dense masses of the enemy, who, regardless of danger, hurled themselves against the defences. Assault followed assault with the same result. An attempt to open a mine under the wall failed on account of the hardness of the rock and the want of necessary implements and protective appliances. Then another expedient was tried. The water-supply of Alhama was obtained from the stream partly encircling it, which was reached by a winding stairway cut through the very centre of the cliff. After almost superhuman efforts to prevent it, the stream was diverted from its channel; and the opening of the subterranean passage, commanded by a picked body of cross-bowmen, offered to the besieged the alternative of death by thirst or by the weapons of the enemy. Every drop of water was now only to be obtained after a conflict, and the little that was thus secured was often tinged with blood.

The news that the Marquis of Cadiz and his companions were shut up in Alhama produced great consternation in every province of the kingdom. There was scarcely a prominent Andalusian family which did not have a representative with the expedition. The honor of the crown, the glory of the Spanish arms, the safety of beloved relatives, the success of future enterprises, perhaps the fate of the Moorish kingdom itself, were staked upon the result. Hereditary prejudices were cast aside. The Duke of Medina-Sidonia forgot his animosity towards his rival and appeared at the head of his numerous vassals. Ferdinand took the field in person. A suggestive indication of the military spirit and the resources of the Spanish monarchy at that time is afforded by the fact that within a week an army of forty-five thousand men, completely equipped, was marshalled ready for battle. The King of Granada dared not risk an encounter with this powerful force. The flower of the Moslem youth had perished in the bloody yet fruitless engagements of the siege. The survivors were discouraged by these repeated reverses; the opportunity to retrieve a disaster attributable to negligence rather than to misfortune had been lost; and, with a heavy heart, Muley Hassan retired to face the resentment and endure the execrations of the fierce and seditious populace of his capital.

The serious dispute concerning the distribution of the plunder which arose between the two divisions of the Christian army gives us an insight into national manners, and discloses the principal motive with which these national crusades were prosecuted. The cupidity of the relieving force was aroused at the sight of the rich booty secured by their comrades who had stormed the town, and they demanded it as their own, alleging, with some reason, that without their timely aid it would have been inevitably lost. The honor acquired by the rescue of their countrymen and the glory of maintaining the Christian cause were inconsiderable in comparison with the spoil to which they declared themselves entitled. The feeling ran so high that all the influence of the Duke of Medina-Sidonia and other powerful nobles was required to prevent an appeal to arms.

The Spanish army having withdrawn, the King of Granada, this time abundantly provided with artillery and munitions of war, again invested Alhama. The thickness of the walls, however, resisted even the fire of the Moorish lombards, at that epoch the best served, and, indeed, almost the only ordnance in Europe. One night, just after sunset, Muley Hassan summoned to his tent forty young cavaliers of the most distinguished families of the Arab nobility. When assembled, they were informed that he had selected them to carry the town by escalade. The ambition of the Moorish youth was inflamed by the confidence reposed in them by their King, and the perilous service was accepted with enthusiasm. Supported by a numerous detachment, the daring adventurers approached the highest part of the wall. Its vicinity was so difficult of access that the garrison, considering this portion of the defences impregnable, maintained a careless watch. But the active intrepidity of the Moors overcame this apparently insurmountable obstacle, and the little band of assailants attained the summit of the ramparts unobserved. Of two sentinels they encountered, one was put to death, but the other, escaping, gave the alarm. Already seventy Moors had penetrated into the streets and others were ascending the ladders. A few moments more and the city would have been taken. The scaling-party, overwhelmed by numbers, were all killed or made prisoners; the supporting forces which were mounting the walls or had silently approached the gates were driven back; a vigilant patrol was established; and the most promising attempt devised by Moorish ingenuity and daring for the recovery of Alhama was frustrated.

Fully awake now to the difficulty of preserving their conquest, the Catholic sovereigns made for the first time adequate preparations for its defence. The garrison was strongly reinforced. Forty thousand beasts of burden were required to transport the enormous quantity of provisions and military supplies which were deposited in its arsenal and magazines. The city had been taken the first day of March, 1482. The second retreat of the Moors took place on the twenty-third of the month. The interval had been one of almost constant battle. Hundreds of lives had been lost on both sides. The military operations connected with the capture of Alhama in the gravity and significance of their results far surpassed those which decided the fate of any other fortified place during the war of Granada, the capital alone excepted. The prestige its possession imparted to the Spanish arms was of greater value than even its paramount importance as a base of operations in the heart of the enemy’s country. Its loss was a fatal blow to the Moorish cause. The unpopularity of Muley Hassan increased; his army was disheartened; the murmurs of the seditious mob of the city grew more threatening; and the faction of the palace hastened to perfect the conspiracy which was soon to result in the downfall of the Moslem power.

The furious spirit of the jealous Ayesha had pursued its designs with all the energy of disappointed ambition and implacable revenge. The hated slave Zoraya was now the first sultana, and had superseded her rival in royal precedence as well as in the affections of her husband. The vizier, Abul-Kasim-Venegas, the son of a noble Christian renegade, to whom the Emir, infatuated with the beautiful favorite, had resigned the direction of affairs, was practically the ruler of the kingdom. The intimacy enjoyed by these two confidants of foreign descent and detested lineage was urged as little less than treason by the scheming adherents of Ayesha. Some time previously, by the advice of the vizier, the insolence of certain chiefs of the Abencerrages had been punished by summary execution. The support of that powerful tribe was thus forever alienated from the King; its members eagerly listened to the overtures of the rebellious party; and the proud and vindictive African cavaliers expected with impatience the hour of retribution.

The reverse at Alhama was the signal for revolt. The King had scarcely returned before serious riots, led by the Abencerrages, were reported in the Albaycin. It was no secret who was really responsible for these disturbances; and Ayesha and her son Boabdil, whom, although still a youth, it was intended to place upon the throne, were promptly arrested and imprisoned in the great tower of Comares in the Alhambra. This decisive step insured the public safety for the time. The rioters dispersed, the leaders concealed themselves, and the city resumed its ordinary aspect of quiet and peace. But this apparent tranquillity was of short duration. The female slaves of Ayesha, having made a rope of their veils, lowered the young prince from a window of the tower overlooking the Darro, where the Abencerrage chieftains awaited him; and at dawn, escorted by a considerable band of horsemen, he was far on his way to Guadix, whose alcalde was one of his partisans.

Ignorant of the extent of the conspiracy or of the number of exalted personages implicated in it, Muley Hassan attached but little importance to the escape of his rebellious son. But, a few days afterwards, while the King was enjoying the luxurious seclusion of one of his suburban palaces, a great tumult arose in the city. Information was brought to him that the Abencerrages had proclaimed the sovereignty of Boabdil; that, incited by the presence of the prince and the shouts of his supporters, the populace of the Albaycin had again risen in arms; that the revolution was rapidly gaining ground and seemed about to involve the entire city; and, worse than all, that the alcalde Ibn-Comixa had raised the rebel standard on the citadel of the Alhambra. The African guards, led by the vizier, in vain attempted to stem the tide of insurrection. Muley Hassan himself, who hoped by his presence to awe the seditious multitude, was received with shouts of defiance and derision. At dawn the entire population of Granada assembled and expelled the King and his adherents, who fled in disorder to the castle of Mondujar. The friends and relatives of the dethroned monarch, apprised of his misfortune, hastened to tender their aid and sympathy. A band of five hundred was selected for an attempt to recover the capital. Attired in black, on a cloudy night, they scaled the walls of the Alhambra. Every soldier whom they encountered was put to death. The alarm spread; the garrison withdrew to the towers of the citadel; and the assailants, descending to the city, were soon engaged with the insurgents in a hand-to-hand conflict in the streets. The midnight tumult aroused the entire population, and the light of torches and tapers soon disclosed the insignificant numbers of the enemy. The citizens, animated by the consciousness of strength, by the constant arrival of reinforcements, and by the fear of punishment, fought with determined courage; and the King, after leaving more than half of his followers on the field, only escaped through the obscurity of the night. Extricating himself with difficulty from the labyrinth of narrow lanes in the suburbs, he pursued his way to Malaga, which city remained loyal to his cause. An implacable triangular struggle, in which Moslem autonomy could not fail in the end to be destroyed, was now inaugurated. Two kings and two courts, inflamed with mutual resentment, each determined, by any expedient, to accomplish the ruin of the other, were in arms. Every community was distracted by the quarrels of hostile factions. Partisan discord afflicted even the remote settlements of the Sierras. On the other side was the common enemy, aggressive, united, vigilant; more powerful in numbers, more fertile in resources, than at any former period. At no time in the history of the Moorish occupation had the demand for unanimity in the national councils been so imperative, and yet at no time had those councils been so divided. Anxiety for party success had in the minds of the infuriated Moors obliterated all concern for the public welfare. Even the semblance of patriotism, and that religious zeal more important in the eyes of the Moslem than attachment to his country, were overcome by the bitterness of factional animosity. With union and co-operation the ultimate result of the contest could not be doubtful, but it might have been prolonged, and the evil day of persecution and servitude have been deferred for perhaps another century. Under the existing political conditions, with provincial disintegration aided by foreign hostility, national ruin was swift and certain.

The Christians were quick to grasp the opportunities afforded by these dissensions. Already Ferdinand, at the head of a numerous force, had overrun the Vega, leaving behind him a smoking track of devastation. From the ramparts of Granada the Moors beheld, with impotent rage and despair, the flames of mills and farm-houses, the massacre of peasants, and the destruction of orange-groves and olive-plantations. Thousands of sheep and cattle became the spoil of the Castilians in this foray, and the supplies of Alhama, already sufficient for a siege of many months’ duration, were again replenished, this time with the plundered harvests of the unfortunate Moslems of the Vega. In spite of its massive defences, its plentiful supplies, and its numerous garrison, the retention of that place was doubtful so long as its communications with the provinces of the Spanish monarchy might be interrupted. The Vega of Granada was approached through an opening in the mountains guarded by the ancient city of Loja. Founded by Abdallah, Khalif of Cordova, it had long been regarded as one of the most important fortified places in the Peninsula. Its great castle and frowning walls imparted a forbidding aspect to the town, which was, however, more than compensated by the beautiful and picturesque environs that encircled it, not the least important of its attractions being the vineyards and olive-orchards which covered every declivity. Its irrigating system, dependent upon the Genil and other smaller streams, had been extended by the industrious inhabitants until the country, for many leagues, exhibited the highest attainable state of cultivation.

The capture of Loja was now a military necessity. While it remained in the hands of the Moors the possession of Alhama could never be absolutely secure. Once in the power of the Spaniards, an unobstructed way was opened into the Vega, and the capital itself might at any time be threatened. The governor of the city was Aliatar, who, reared amidst the quiet of mercantile pursuits, had, by the display of military ability and reckless courage, attained great renown in arms. His exploits were the theme of all Andalusia. The frequency of his marauding expeditions in the vicinity of Lucena had gained for that district the name of the “Garden of Aliatar.” Moraima, his favorite daughter, was the wife of Boabdil. For nearly two generations he had been an active spirit in every campaign against the Christians, but the accumulation of years had neither damped his ardor nor diminished his activity. His wealth was expended in the maintenance of troops and the ransom of captives. So few were the luxuries which he reserved for his family that his daughter was compelled to borrow jewels in order to appear with becoming dignity before her betrothed lover, the heir to the Moslem throne. This famous chieftain was now more than seventy years of age. Familiar with every artifice of guerilla warfare, brave even to the extreme of rashness, fertile in the resources imparted by the varied experiences of a long and adventurous career, beloved by his followers, dreaded by his enemies, it would have been difficult to find within the limits of Granada a more formidable and capable adversary than this doughty old Moslem commander.

Elated by the success of his recent expedition in the Vega, Ferdinand, expecting an easy conquest, hastened to lay siege to Loja. With only thirteen thousand men, ill-provided with the necessary equipment and without even sufficient rations to supply him for a week, on the first day of July, 1482, he encamped before the city. It was soon perceived that his army was not strong enough to even properly invest it. The inequalities of the ground, whose natural ruggedness was increased by innumerable trees and hedges, rendered it impossible for the lines to remain unbroken or for the various divisions to preserve communication with each other. On the level land and in the valley, a maze of intersecting canals made the evolutions of cavalry difficult and often impracticable. The partial isolation of the different detachments of the besieging army not only rendered them constantly liable to surprise, but diminished their confidence and greatly impaired their efficiency. The disorderly arrangement of the Spaniards, thus seriously hampered by the nature of their surroundings, was soon perceived by the Moors. Aliatar, at the head of three thousand horsemen, quietly issued from the western gate, concealed several hundred of his bravest warriors amidst the rank vegetation of the orchards, and suddenly attacked the post commanded by Don Rodrigo Giron, Master of Calatrava. The Christians, although taken unawares, defended themselves bravely; the Moors retreated in apparent confusion; and their unwary antagonists, impelled by their headlong impetuosity, were soon intercepted by the ambuscade. The retiring enemy now returned to the charge, and the Spanish knights, assailed in both front and rear, with difficulty held their ground. The Master of Calatrava, conspicuous for his gallantry as well as well as for the richness of his dress, which bore the peculiar cross of his order, became the target for a cloud of missiles, two of which having penetrated a vital part, the intrepid young cavalier fell dying from his horse. It was only by superhuman efforts that any of his followers escaped a similar fate. Many were killed and wounded, but at last the superior weight and armor of the Spaniards prevailed, and the Moorish trumpets sounded a retreat. Encumbered with the bodies of their unfortunate companions, the surviving knights returned to their encampment, where the overturned tents and broken equipage which, mingled in dire confusion, everywhere strewed the ground, attested the fierceness of an attack that had resulted so disastrously to the Christian arms. It now became evident to even the arrogant and opinionated Ferdinand that something more than military enthusiasm was necessary to successfully conduct a siege. Without reluctance he consented to withdraw to the Rio Frio until an army already on the march from Cordova to reinforce him should arrive. Want of discipline or inexcusable neglect prevented the communication of this design to the different commanders; and when, at daybreak, the tents were struck on the height of Abul-Hassan, and the vigilant Aliatar, ready for any emergency, stormed the outpost, a frightful panic arose. The exultant cries of the Moors and the appearance of their standards in the Spanish camp created the impression among the besiegers that Aliatar had been reinforced, and that they were in imminent danger of defeat and capture. The general alarm was increased by the unexpected removal of the tents of the detachment, by the memory of the prowess of their enemies and the advantage the latter had recently gained, and especially by their own lamentable want of self-reliance, inspired by their isolated position and defective discipline. The terrified infantry fled at once in a body, throwing the knights, who in vain attempted to rally them, into confusion. The Moors, planting a battery on a commanding eminence, by the accuracy of their fire increased the general disorder. Their desperate charges against the escort guarding the King, which, though outnumbered and surrounded, maintained its ground with inflexible resolution, for a time made the issue doubtful. Never during his life was Ferdinand in greater danger. His bravest captains were wounded and unhorsed. The Marquis of Cadiz, at the head of seventy knights, received undismayed the furious attack of the Moslem horsemen. Dismounted, and armed only with his sword, this gallant hero, fighting in the front of the line, performed prodigies of valor; and his followers, emulating his example, made such an obstinate resistance that the assailants, exhausted by their efforts, finally withdrew from the field. The rout of the Christian army was complete. The siege had lasted only five days. Some of the terror-stricken fugitives did not halt until they had placed a distance of twenty miles between themselves and the scene of their disgrace. Only the heroic efforts of a handful of cavaliers had saved the King from capture. For more than a league the ground was strewn with abandoned clothing, standards, and weapons. The siege-train fell into the hands of the enemy. Flushed with victory, the soldiers of Aliatar, amidst the acclamations of their countrymen, re-entered the city enriched with the spoils of the Christian camp.

The disastrous result of the attempt upon Loja filled the isolated garrison of Alhama with the direst apprehensions. It required all the address and authority of the governor, Don Luis Portocarrero, to dissuade his command from wholesale desertion. The sudden appearance of a Moorish army added to their fears, and only the prompt relief sent by Isabella preserved to the Spanish Crown this important fortress, gained at such cost, and defended with such difficulty. The Moors retired; a new garrison was introduced; and Don Juan de Vera assumed command, supported by several youthful knights who had voluntarily sought this post of danger, ambitious of adventure and distinction. Among them was Hernan Perez del Pulgar, whose career resembles that of a paladin of romance, and who was destined to great celebrity in the ensuing operations of the war with Granada.

Muley Hassan, in his palace at Malaga, had learned with indignation of the investment of Loja. Collecting his forces, he prepared to go to the aid of that city when news reached him of the repulse and withdrawal of the Christians. Deeming himself secure from interference, and bent on revenge, he descended with seventy-five hundred men upon the fertile district of Medina-Sidonia. The vicinity of Gibraltar and Algeziras, the plains of Estepona—in short, all of that region as far as the River Celemin—experienced the awful atrocities of border warfare. The operations were planned and executed with systematic regularity under the direction of the King in person. The army was divided into detachments, to each of which was assigned a separate territory as its exclusive prey. By this arrangement much time was saved, and the devastation was rendered more complete. On all sides rose the smoke of burning harvests and dwellings. From every point of the compass armed squadrons brought spoil and prisoners to the Moslem head-quarters. The cattle alone numbered more than five thousand. It was years since the Moors had secured such a booty. Impunity had relaxed the vigilance of the inhabitants of that portion of Andalusia, long exempt from the efforts of Moslem enterprise and audacity. The accumulations of industry were therefore more accessible and less diligently guarded than in localities constantly exposed to the inroads of the enemy. On his return, Muley Hassan fell into an ambuscade, where his cattle were stampeded and many of them lost; but the injury he received was trifling, and a few days afterwards he entered Malaga in triumph.

This bold achievement of the Moorish king aroused the martial emulation of the Castilian cavaliers, mortified by the triumph of an infidel foe. In March, 1483, several of the chiefs of the greatest houses of the kingdom met at Antequera, accompanied by their vassals, to agree upon a plan of campaign. The influence and obstinacy of Don Alonzo de Cardenas, Grand Master of Santiago, dominated the assembly, in opposition to the counsels of leaders of great and varied experience; and the Ajarquia, a rugged and sparsely settled district north of Malaga, which exaggerated reports had declared to be filled with innumerable herds of cattle, was selected as the object of the expedition. In a long and irregular line the adventurers entered the gloomy defiles of the Sierra. The advance guard was commanded by Don Alonzo de Aguilar; in the centre were the Count of Cifuentes and the Marquis of Cadiz; the rear, as the post of danger and honor, was in charge of the Grand Master of Santiago. As the Spaniards penetrated farther into the mountains, the aspect of the country became more and more forbidding. The paths were dangerous and uncertain. Precipitous cliffs towered far above their heads. At times the road skirted the borders of chasms whose depths were invisible and denoted only by the faint roaring of some distant torrent. Not a living thing was in sight. Everywhere the silence of desolation prevailed, and, except a few deserted hovels, there was nothing to indicate the presence of man. The soldiers, exasperated by disappointment and careless of danger, pursued their way in noisy disorder. The huts of the shepherds, set on fire by the advance guard, cast a lurid light over the gloomy landscape and disclosed the broken and scattered ranks of the Spaniards, who, in an unknown country, buried in the cavernous recesses of the mountains and surrounded by enemies, neglected to observe even the precautions of an ordinary march. The approach of night redoubled the embarrassment, already sufficiently serious. The guides, misled by a multiplicity of paths and apprehensive of danger, lost their way. All order was now at an end; the number of stragglers grew more numerous in the darkness; the main body, whose progress was impeded by the mule-train loaded with camp equipage, was thrown into confusion; and through the obscurity the signal-fires of the enemy could be seen on the mountain-tops flashing far and wide the movements of the expedition. While the trouble and turmoil were greatest, the rear guard, where the military habits of the Knights of Santiago still preserved an appearance of obedience and discipline, was attacked by the mountaineers. From inaccessible heights showers of arrows and stones of enormous size descended upon the helpless cavaliers, whose disadvantageous position did not suffer them either to defend themselves or to dislodge their enemies. As the number of the latter, summoned by the signal-fires, increased, the rest of the army became involved in the hopeless contest; where, in a contracted valley, crowded together in a struggling mass, the foolhardy band of Christian adventurers seemed devoted to inevitable destruction. Meanwhile, the chain of lights and the swiftness of agile couriers had conveyed to Malaga information of the presence of enemies in the Ajarquia. Abdallah-al-Zagal, brother of the King, and his equal in military experience and prowess, and Redwan Venegas, a distinguished chieftain, at once set out with a strong body of cavalry for the scene of action. The first ray of dawn revealed to the harassed Christians the well-armed troops of the King on the heights far above them. With almost inconceivable rapidity, considering the obstacles presented by the ground, the mountaineers for a distance of many miles had assembled in defence of their homes. All the exits of the Ajarquia were guarded. A detachment of Berbers occupied the pass on the side of the sea, prepared to intercept all who might attempt to escape in that direction. As soon as the light of day enabled the Spaniards to fully realize the extent of the peril that threatened them, they were almost ready to give way to despair. From the shelter of rock and trees, the adroit cross-bowmen of Venegas picked off with impunity all conspicuous for their dress or armor. Those who were not pierced with missiles or crushed with rocks were hurled headlong over precipices. Resistance and flight seemed equally useless. The Spaniards deserting their colors, each solicitous for his individual safety, scattered in every direction. The Grand Master of Santiago, by a resolute charge in which the most of his surviving comrades were lost, managed to reach the summit of the mountain, and, cutting his way through the astonished peasants, made his escape. Abdallah-al-Zagal, who, with the larger part of the detachment from Malaga, was posted at the only pass south of the Ajarquia, intercepted a small band of fugitives whose broken weapons and battered armor indicated the desperate peril to which they had recently been exposed. Among these were the Marquis of Cadiz, Alonzo de Aguilar, and the Count of Cifuentes. Unable to advance farther, by dint of strenuous efforts they maintained their position until night. Then the Marquis, guided by a resolute and experienced scout in his service, threaded the dangerous paths of the sierra and finally reached Antequera. The Count of Cifuentes was surrounded and taken. Alonzo de Aguilar and his companions concealed themselves in caves and thickets, remaining quiet by day and travelling at night, subsisting upon roots and herbs, until they succeeded in joining their countrymen at the frontier outposts. For many days the unfortunate Castilians, one by one, their arms and armor lost, their clothes torn to rags, gaunt with famine, tottering with fatigue, straggled, half-demented, into the cities of Alhama and Antequera. Of the entire number who had enlisted in the hazardous enterprise less than half escaped. Nearly a hundred were killed. Eight hundred and twenty-five were carried captive to Malaga. Four hundred of those highest in rank were set aside for ransom. Two hundred more were imprisoned in the dungeons of Granada and Ronda. Among the dead were two brothers of the Marquis of Cadiz, Gomez Mendez de Sotomayor, Governor of Utrera, and many other noblemen of illustrious rank. More than thirty commanders of the Order of Santiago perished or were captured. So great was the terror of the Christians who strayed aimlessly through the defiles and along the slopes of the mountains, that in many cases four or five surrendered to a single unarmed enemy. Even the peasant women made prisoners of fugitives overcome with terror and weakness whom they encountered in the suburbs of Malaga. The booty was increased by the large sums of money intrusted to the soldiers by their friends for the purchase of cattle, slaves, and jewels, in the expectation of certain victory and abundant spoil. Nothing in the annals of Spanish conquest indicates its mercenary character more clearly than this significant circumstance. The devout chroniclers, lamenting the avarice of their countrymen, refer to this crushing defeat as a manifest proof of the wrath of Providence. The example of Alhama had induced the Spaniards to consider their arms as invincible. The treasure found in that city had aroused the cupidity of every adventurer in the Peninsula. This overweening confidence had now received a serious check. In all the cities of Andalusia there was distress and mourning; in the court unconcealed dismay; in nearly every family the anguish of suffering or the more harrowing bitterness of suspense. A fatal blow had been struck at Spanish prestige. The affair of the Ajarquia, following closely upon the repulse at Loja, had not only tarnished the lustre of their arms, but had diminished the estimate in which the Catholic sovereigns were held in Europe. Less than six hundred peasants were engaged in the fight which terminated in the rout of the Andalusian nobles, who, with their retainers, outnumbered their assailants seven to one. The banners, the emblazoned surcoats, the magnificent harnesses, the war-horses, followed by the most illustrious captives in chains, were exhibited, for the exultation of the people and the glory of Al-Zagal, in the cities of Ronda, Loja, Malaga, and Granada. The prisoners not considered valuable enough to be reserved for ransom and the camp followers and traders, who expected anything but this result, were sold at auction with the equipage, the mules, and the other spoils of war.

These successive military exploits of Muley Hassan contributed greatly to his popularity and imparted a prodigious impulse to his cause. Many adventurous spirits of the kingdom, who had hitherto held aloof, now joined his standard. The defection of a number of influential partisans, attracted to Malaga by the prospect of plunder and renown, alarmed the faction of Boabdil, who, heedless of the perils that menaced his country, remained shamefully inert in the paradise of the Alhambra. Forced at length to action by the indignant remonstrances of his mother and the Abencerrages, who daily observed the evidences of his waning power, he reluctantly prepared for a foray into the land of the Christians. The frontiers of Cordova were selected as the scene of operations, for the lords of that territory had nearly all been left on the field of the Ajarquia or were still immured in Moorish dungeons. At the head of nine thousand infantry and seven hundred cavalry, the Moslem prince took his departure from Granada. With ill-advised ostentation the army proceeded to Loja, where Aliatar joined it with a squadron of veterans, whose experience was of far more practical value than the vainglorious array of young cavaliers who formed the splendid bodyguard of the King. Unlike his father, whose plans were carried out with the silence and rapidity which insure success, Boabdil displayed in his march all the pomp and deliberation of a royal progress. Indebted to his folly and inexperience, the Christians, fully apprised of his movements, were already prepared for his reception. A small but resolute body of cavaliers under Don Diego Fernandez de Cordova, Alcalde de los Donceles, had been collected at Lucena. The Moors, having passed the Genil and ravaged the districts of Montilla and Aguilar, marching in disorder and encumbered with booty, directed their course towards that place, with a view of taking it by storm. On the twentieth of April the Castilian signals announced the proximity of the enemy. The city of Lucena was not adapted, either by reason of formidable defences or of a numerous population, to offer a prolonged resistance to such an army as now threatened it. The citizens, accustomed to border alarms, behaved with the utmost intrepidity. An attack of the Moors was repulsed with great loss. In retaliation for this unexpected result, the orchards in the vicinity were cut down and every building that could be reached destroyed. This work of ruin accomplished, a peremptory demand to surrender was sent to the governor. The latter, aware of the approach of the Count of Cabra with reinforcements, temporized with the Moslems until their scouts advised them that the Christian banners were in sight, when, unwilling to risk the loss of their plunder, they retired slowly towards the Genil. The Spaniards, though greatly inferior in number, were unwilling to abandon the present opportunity for an engagement upon more equal terms, and followed closely the retreating Moslems. Dividing their forces near the river, one detachment was sent forward to surprise the vanguard,—which was conducting the flocks and the captives,—while the remainder harassed the rear. Thus attacked on every side, where the dense forest concealed the insignificant numbers of the enemy, the Moors, unaccustomed to the restraints of discipline, became terror-stricken and fled. The efforts of Boabdil and his commanders to rally them were fruitless. A frightful massacre resulted; the fugitives were pierced with lances or trampled under the hoofs of the charging squadrons; on the banks of the stream, already heaped up with the dead, hundreds sank under the strokes of the heavy Toledo blades. With conspicuous gallantry, Boabdil and Aliatar, supported by a handful of followers, attempted to check the irresistible onset of their foes. Oppressed by the weight of numbers, the veteran Moslem captain was cut down, and his body, swept away by the swift current of the Genil, was never seen again. The magnificent appearance of the King; his damascened armor and cloak of crimson velvet embroidered with gold; the rich caparison of his horse; the beauty of his weapons, indicating a person of distinction, made him the target for a thousand missiles. Pierced with a shot, his horse fell under him. Mingled with a crowd of foot-soldiers, who were pressing on to the river, he found his progress obstructed by a pile of cattle, which during the confusion of the rout had been trampled to death in the mire. The impetuosity of the pursuers admitted of no delay, and the distressed fugitive, turning aside, attempted to conceal himself among the laurels and brambles that lined the banks of the stream. His showy costume betrayed him, and he was at once intercepted by Martin Hurtado, a petty official of Lucena, who, after a slight resistance, effected his capture. While his identity was unsuspected, his exalted rank was evident; and the comrades of Hurtado, desirous of sharing the ransom of such a distinguished personage, attempted to deprive him of the credit of the exploit. A serious altercation ensued, and the soldiery prepared to establish their rival pretensions by force of arms, when the opportune arrival of the Alcalde de los Donceles ended the dispute. Interposing his authority, he caused the illustrious prisoner to be conducted to Lucena, where, although closely guarded, he was treated with the greatest respect until an investigation might establish his rank and determine the sum to be exacted for his release.

The victory of Lucena more than counteracted the effect of the disaster in the Ajarquia. The Moorish army was practically annihilated; of nine thousand seven hundred scarcely two hundred escaped. The list of killed and missing included the names of the most eminent nobles and citizens of Granada. A thousand horses, nine hundred mules, twenty-two standards, the sumptuous tents and furniture of the royal household, and all the spoil taken in the fertile plains of Lucena and Aguilar were the fruits of the victory. Thus the varying fortune of war, like the vibration of a pendulum, again swung towards the side of the Christians; but in the future its impetus was to be retarded, and finally repelled forever from the cause of the Moors, whose complete disorganization had long portended irretrievable disaster.

The news of the defeat and capture of Boabdil terrified the capital. The absence of the King and his most powerful adherents made it impossible for the faction of Ayesha to resist the advance of Muley Hassan, who, without delay, resumed possession of his throne. With no apparent difficulty, he re-established his authority; but, with an infatuation not easy to explain, he permitted the deposed sultana to retire with her treasures to the citadel of the Alcazaba, an act of singular imprudence, considering her vindictive character, her political influence, and her well-known talent for intrigue.

The identity of Boabdil having been ascertained through the respectful homage paid him by Moorish captives accidentally taken into his presence, he was removed by order of Ferdinand to the castle of Porcuna. With his usual caution, the Spanish king determined, before deciding what disposition to make of his prisoner, to weaken his remaining power as much as possible by an extensive foray into his dominions. By this design he not only contemplated the destruction of the ripening harvests cultivated to replenish the granaries of the capital, but also the aggravation of factional hostility, which would be intensified by indiscriminate devastation, and thus still further impair the allegiance of the people to rulers either incapable of sympathy or indisposed to defence.

The expedition was organized on a tremendous scale. All the provinces of the kingdom were laid under contribution. A body of Swiss adventurers, whose arms and accoutrements were regarded with curiosity by the Spaniards, few of whom had ever heard of their country, brought to the aid of the Catholic sovereigns their Helvetian obstinacy and thorough discipline. The army proper was composed of ten thousand cavalry and twenty thousand foot. A body of thirty thousand men, whose sole duty was to destroy, was provided with axes, saws, and fagots. In addition to these was a host of non-combatants, muleteers, servants, traders, and camp-followers. A train of eighty thousand beasts of burden was required to transport supplies and munitions of war for this great force. In the face of such a power, Granada, at the time of its greatest prosperity, would have found resistance difficult. As it was,—with one of its princes a captive and the other infirm and detested, its population divided by faction and weakened by discontent and misfortune,—there was no military organization capable of even seriously harassing the invaders. The latter, therefore, pursued their relentless course without hindrance. For a distance of many leagues, and in full view of Granada, the country was swept bare of vegetation. The orchards were destroyed. The vines were dug up. The harvests were burnt. Not a tree or a shrub remained in what had so recently been a paradise. In a single district three hundred farm-houses and towers were committed to the flames. The net-work of silver rivulets, hitherto concealed by myrtle hedges and pomegranate and almond groves, now sparkled amidst a scene of sombre desolation; where the monotonous level was only relieved by charred and smoking heaps of what had been, but the day before, the picturesque, flower-embowered homes of a prosperous and happy people. The numbers of the enemy, and the organized system of destruction which he employed, enabled him in a few hours to eradicate every trace of that agricultural skill which had required centuries to develop and carry to perfection. Many towns were taken by storm and abandoned to spoliation. From the walls of such as offered a successful resistance, the dismayed inhabitants saw nothing as far as the eye could reach but a desert. Having accomplished the object of the expedition, Ferdinand disbanded his army and returned to Cordova. The moral and physical effect of this inhuman policy upon the Moors was more decisive than those of a dozen successful campaigns. Their means of subsistence were gone. Their military spirit was broken. Continually exposed to a repetition of such misfortunes, no incentive for recuperation could exist. Under these circumstances, it is not strange that great numbers of the Moslems, abandoned to despair, should seriously contemplate a transfer of their allegiance to those sovereigns who had hitherto been their ruthless enemies and oppressors.

A council composed of the principal personages of the realm was now assembled at Cordova to decide what should be done with the Moorish king. After much altercation and argument, it was decided to release him, it being recognized that his captivity, by removing an element of discord from the councils of the Moslems, would have a tendency to reconcile the jarring factions and prolong the war. Two embassies from Granada appeared before the assembled nobles,—one from Ayesha, whom the blind folly of Muley Hassan permitted to plot treason under the very shadow of his palace, and which was ready to make any concessions to obtain the deliverance of the royal captive; the other from his father, offering a magnificent reward for the delivery of his rebellious son into his hands. The envoys of the Sultana alone received an attentive hearing. Boabdil was to render homage to the Spanish monarchs and pay an annual tribute of twelve thousand doubloons of gold; to liberate four hundred captives, three-fourths of them to be named by his master; and to permit unmolested passage through his dominions to the Christian armies, and furnish them with provisions whenever they were at war with Muley Hassan or his brother Abdallah-al-Zagal. As a security for the performance of these obligations, the son of the King and a number of the nobles of Granada were to be delivered as hostages. Boabdil consented without remonstrance or hesitation to the humiliating terms which insured his freedom, and the convention was signed. A truce of two years’ duration was agreed upon; and the illustrious captive, conducted to Cordova, did homage to his suzerain surrounded by all the pomp of the Spanish court. Then, provided with a numerous and splendid escort, he returned to his kingdom, to receive the hollow congratulations of his partisans, to encounter the contempt of his enemies, and to be the target for the maledictions of the fickle and infuriated populace, which, not unjustly, ascribed to his effeminacy and want of resolution the larger share of the public distress.

The wisdom which advised the release of the Moslem king was not long in obtaining confirmation. Whether he hesitated, even in a desperate emergency, to proceed to extremities against his own flesh and blood, or whether the vigilance which never slept amidst the operations of a campaign faltered under circumstances of domestic peril, Muley Hassan, although fully aware of the liberation of his son, made no attempt to intercept him; and Boabdil, easily avoiding the sentinels and patrols of the outposts, entered the Albaycin in the dead of night. Without an hour’s delay his energetic mother called her adherents to arms. At dawn, the signal for conflict once more resounded throughout the city. Again the streets streamed with the best blood of the kingdom; again the savage tribesmen of Africa renewed in the most polished capital of Europe the fierce hostility which, generations before, had originated in the depths of the Libyan Desert; again the undiscerning fury of partisan discord dissipated those resources of wealth and martial energy that might have saved an empire; disorders which promoted more rapidly and effectually than a series of victories the designs of the mortal foes of the Mussulmans of Granada. Considerations of political expediency, reluctance to longer witness the shedding of blood which must eventually terminate in the extirpation of the fighting men of the kingdom, and the consciousness that their countrymen were involuntarily rendering substantial aid to the Christian cause, induced the more respectable class of citizens, the doctors of the law, and the ministers of religion,—in short, those persons in the community whose opinions were most entitled to respect,—to propose an armistice. This suggestion having been agreed to with less hesitation than might have been expected, and the timorous nature of Boabdil prevailing, to a certain extent, over his ambition, he decided to relinquish for the time his claims on the capital and remove his court and his following to Almeria.

Muley Hassan, while thus temporarily delivered from the presence of his rival, did not fail to realize the precarious character of his tenure, or the dangers—all the more to be apprehended by reason of the secrecy that enveloped them—which threatened the existence of his authority. To counteract these perils and divert the minds of the disaffected from sedition, he knew well that there was no expedient so effective as the popular and glorious exercise of war. Amidst the general demoralization and disgrace, his military reputation, acquired in fifty campaigns, remained unimpaired and untarnished. Among his adherents were to be found the ablest and most distinguished commanders in the Moorish service. Hamet-al-Zegri, Alcalde of Ronda, and Bejer, Governor of Malaga, had in the entire kingdom no equals in the arts of investment and ambuscade, no superiors in enterprise and courage. Twelve hundred picked horsemen and a large body of foot, under these experienced leaders, were ordered to assemble at Ronda, and, proceeding from this rendezvous, to overrun and ravage the rich plains of the province of Seville. Unfortunately for the success of the expedition, the movements of so many detachments of armed men converging to one point aroused the suspicions of some Christian spies who were lurking in the mountains near the former city. The destination of the force was soon ascertained. The Andalusian chieftains lost no time in summoning their vassals; and when the Moorish cavalry reached the vicinity of Utrera they found the country under arms. In the manœuvres which followed, the Christians employed their own tactics against the Moors with signal success. The Moslem infantry had remained encamped in the hills to hold the pass. Farther down, on the banks of the Lopera, a squadron of cavalry had been stationed to be ready for any unforeseen emergency. To a third division, comprising the flower of the army, was assigned the duty of securing the plunder which their companions were expected to guard during the retreat. The position of the enemy was well known to the Castilians, whose scouts promptly advised them of every movement. Leaving a small body of knights to engage the attention of the marauding parties on the plain, the main body of the Spaniards surprised and cut to pieces the division lying in ambush on the Lopera. The noise of the conflict attracted the Berbers from below, but they arrived too late, and were themselves routed and dispersed. Learning of the defeat of their comrades, the infantry, who numbered several thousand, but who in a contest with mail-clad knights were no better than cowherds or muleteers, fled in confusion without striking a blow. One fugitive band under Hamet-al-Zegri, guided by a Christian renegade, reached the Serrania de Ronda in safety. Another, under the Alcalde of Borje, whose followers had been present at the massacre of the Ajarquia and wore the armor of the unfortunate cavaliers who had been killed or taken in that engagement, was pursued, and almost destroyed by the Marquis of Cadiz. In several instances the Spanish knights recognized and recovered the arms and harnesses of which they had been despoiled on that bloody day.

The defeat of Lopera added another disaster to those which announced the declining fortunes of the Moslem power. The bravest defenders of the throne of Muley Hassan had been swept away. His prestige was seriously weakened. Only two hundred Moorish cavaliers returned from this ill-fated expedition. The governor of Velez was killed; those of Malaga, Marbella, Coin, Alora, and Comares remained in the hands of the enemy. The credit for this victory, which reflected so much lustre on the Spanish arms, was due to Don Luis Portocarrero, who had been the first Christian governor of Alhama.

About this time the Marquis of Cadiz, ever alert to take advantage of the negligence of the enemy, learned through his scouts that Zahara, whose capture had signalized the opening of hostilities, might be surprised. Making a feigned attack on the town with the main body of his troops, a scaling-party ascended the walls of the citadel unobserved, and but a few hours were necessary to regain possession of the place without the loss of a single life.

Appreciating the necessity for continuous action as well as the paramount importance of depriving the Moors of the capacity for resistance by the systematic devastation of their country, Ferdinand and Isabella now formulated the plan of a more extensive campaign than had yet been attempted. It embraced the conquest of many towns of note which had hitherto escaped, to a certain extent, the misfortunes of war; the desolation of every accessible locality which still preserved uninjured its crops, its orchards, and its plantations; the indiscriminate burning of farm-houses, mills, and magazines; and, finally, the capture of the great mountain fortress of Ronda, whose remarkable site had caused it to be deemed impregnable, leaving out of consideration the warlike and ferocious character of the mountaineers and the African soldiery by whom it was inhabited and garrisoned.

A numerous army was collected at Cordova during the first days of June, 1484. The train of artillery which was to accompany it was the most complete and powerful that the imperfect knowledge of ordnance possessed by that age was capable of providing. Experience had taught the Spaniards that the most substantial masonry could not stand against the ponderous projectiles of the clumsy, ill-aimed lombards. The principal difficulty to be encountered in the prosecution of military operations was in the transportation of these heavy pieces. The use of wheels for cannon was unknown, and they had to be painfully dragged by long teams of oxen or by the combined efforts of hundreds of men. In Andalusia the highways were none of the best; in the mountainous regions, where the cannon were required, it was necessary to clear away obstacles and to build roads to allow their passage. The time was favorable for an invasion by the Christians. The truce secured the neutrality and, if demanded, the active co-operation of Boabdil. Muley Hassan, old and broken by infirmity, blind and helpless, lay inert in the Alhambra. Universal depression and apathy, aroused only by the apprehension of more serious disasters and the dismal foreboding of impending ruin, hung over the land. The bravest champions of the monarchy had been slain in the bloody scenes of internecine strife or in the skirmishes of unsuccessful expeditions. The superior prowess of the odious infidel began to be reluctantly acknowledged; famine, in a region of proverbial fertility, grew imminent; and the hostile partisans, eager to cast upon each other the blame of which all were equally culpable, indulged in the most bitter recriminations.

The campaign was opened by the siege of Alora, whose walls were soon demolished by the fire of the Spanish artillery, and many neighboring places of inferior importance surrendered without a blow. The capitulation of Setenil followed, and the Christians, emboldened by success and confident of impunity, carried their ravages to the very environs of the three great cities which represented the royal dignity of Muley Hassan, and where had long been concentrated the wealth, the culture, the commerce, and the valor which had exalted the civilization and maintained the existence of the few remaining provinces of the Moorish empire.

The invading army, with banners displayed and ready for action, advanced to a point one mile from the capital. The beautiful suburbs of that city, already described in these pages, were now ruthlessly sacrificed to the stern necessities of war. Not only was every tree levelled with the ground, but every sign of vegetation was obliterated, not even a leaf or a blade of grass escaped. An area of more than a hundred square miles was burned. The threshing-floors were torn up and great stores of grain consumed by fire. The mosques, the villas, and the towers scattered through the Vega underwent a similar fate. For a distance of two leagues in all directions from Granada every evidence of human occupation was blotted out, and the landscape assumed the aspect of a charred and blackened wilderness. While the Spanish king was thus employed in the vicinity of the Moorish capital, the Duke of Medina-Sidonia and the Count of Cabra had wasted with fire and sword the districts of Loja and Jimena. In the short space of forty days greater and more permanent injury was inflicted on the country than during any corresponding period for eight centuries, diversified as they had been by the struggles of mighty nations for supremacy, by the inroads of Mauritanian savages, by the sanguinary ambition of adventurous usurpers, and by the prolonged and ruthless atrocities of many successive revolutions. Nor did even temporary relief result from the withdrawal of the invading force. The governors of the captured towns were ordered to pursue the enemy with unremitting hostility. In vain did the despairing Moors offer vast sums of gold, the release of all captives, the delivery of hostages, if their homes and their remaining means of subsistence might only be spared. In vain did the once haughty King, who, from the very palace where he now lay oppressed with old age and blindness, had returned a message of mortal defiance when summoned to pay tribute—now a pathetic example of the uncertainty of human aspirations and the instability of earthly grandeur—descend to the humiliation of requesting as a favor what he had formerly indignantly rejected as an insult in terms of hatred and menace. In vain did the infuriated peasantry, rendered desperate by the prospect of starvation and beggary and by the failure to propitiate their relentless foes, attempt a resistance which might formerly have arrested the tide of destruction, but now only aggravated their misery. Conscious of their superiority, the Catholic sovereigns refused even the slightest concession to an adversary whom they considered already in their power.

Meanwhile, the cause of Boabdil, who maintained at Almeria the shadow of royalty and the empty ceremonial of a court, was daily losing ground. His close relations with the national enemy, who constantly provided him with money and with the supplies which the abhorrence of his subjects withheld, his absolute want of filial affection, and the fact that his unnatural revolt had been the immediate cause of all the evils which afflicted the monarchy, so impaired his influence that his orders were reluctantly obeyed in the very apartments of his palace. A correspondence was opened between some disaffected faquis of Almeria and Abdallah-al-Zagal, who was de facto regent of the kingdom, then resident at Malaga. That redoubtable warrior, with his African guards, was secretly introduced into the city at night. A tumult arose; the governor was killed in the confusion which ensued; and the partisans of Muley Hassan, almost without resistance, added to his dominions the rich and populous seaport of Almeria. The seizure of the city was not the sole object of the intrepid old warrior. Sword in hand, and followed by his escort, he entered the palace and sought the apartments of Boabdil. He found them empty; but continuing his search he encountered the young Abul-Haxig, brother of the King, and the fearless Ayesha, who overwhelmed him with abuse and reproaches. Infuriated by the failure to secure his nephew, who, awakened by the noise, had become alarmed and fled, he wreaked his vengeance upon the youthful prince, whom he cut down with his scimetar; Ayesha was placed in close confinement; and every Abencerrage prominent in rank or distinguished by reputation who fell into his hands was unceremoniously put to death.

Accompanied by a handful of attendants, Boabdil escaped to the frontier, and sought the protection of the Christian court. The supplications of the exile were heard with sympathy, but they scarcely accelerated the preparations for the campaign already determined upon. With a force of twenty-nine thousand men, Ferdinand laid siege to Coin. The fortifications had been already shaken by the artillery fire when Hamet-al-Zegri, Alcalde of Ronda, at the head of a squadron of African cavalry, cut his way through the lines and entered the city. Encouraged by this reinforcement, the inhabitants redoubled their efforts. A strong party led by Pedro Ruiz de Alarcon, which had become entangled in the narrow streets, was annihilated. But personal valor and heroism could avail nothing against the huge balls of stone that, fired from the lombards, crushed into shapeless ruin every obstacle they encountered. Favorable terms of capitulation were asked for and readily granted. The citizens deserted their homes and sought the hospitality of their kinsmen; and the valiant Hamet-al-Zegri, at the head of his veteran troop of Mauritanian horsemen, grimly and in silence traversed the enemy’s lines and repaired to the seat of his government in the castle of Ronda.

To that city the attention of Ferdinand and Isabella was now directed. The difficulties which must attend its siege were apparently insuperable. It was everywhere recognized as the strongest fortress in the Peninsula. Built upon a rocky eminence, one-half of its circumference was protected by an abyss two hundred feet wide and three hundred and fifty in depth, whose walls, overhanging or perpendicular, defied all efforts to ascend them; the other was enclosed by fortifications of gigantic dimensions and apparently impenetrable solidity. A great citadel, commanding all, towered far above the roofs of the surrounding buildings. Without artillery the place was impregnable, and the transportation of ordnance through a range of mountains of proverbial ruggedness was a task sufficient to tax to the utmost the resources of the Spanish engineers. Roads must be constructed, forests levelled, paths cut through the rock, frightful ravines bridged, before the lombards could be trained upon the mighty defences of the city.

The greatest reliance of Ronda was not so much upon the peculiar advantages of its situation as upon the character of its defenders. It furnished the best cross-bowmen in the Moslem armies. Even the boys were expert marksmen, having been familiar with the use of that formidable arm from early childhood. The inhabitants of the Sierra were noted for their activity, their courage, and their indomitable ferocity. The peasantry, who ordinarily adopted the avocation of shepherds, were hardened by daily exposure and the constant presence of danger to the endurance of every privation. The famous Hamet-al-Zegri, who had, with unshaken loyalty and distinguished courage, long upheld the cause of Muley Hassan, was, as previously stated, the governor of the city; and a numerous band of Gomeres—those African warriors so conspicuous in the closing scenes of the Reconquest, and whose prowess had already been so often exhibited in the present war—composed the garrison.

Uncertain at first whether it would be more advantageous to attack Ronda or Malaga, Ferdinand, having again advanced into the mountains, made a reconnoissance in force near the latter city. The warmth of his reception and the multitude of armed men who appeared on the ramparts and took part in the skirmishes convinced him that the siege of Malaga at that time would be too hazardous, and might fail of success. Information of the approach of the Christians had attracted for the distance of leagues thousands of fighting mountaineers. Among them were many from the vicinity of Ronda, including the governor himself and most of his command, and a number of citizens who little suspected that their own homes would soon be in danger. With characteristic astuteness, Ferdinand concealed the plan of the campaign from all but a few of his commanders. It was generally supposed in the army that the destination of the expedition was Loja. An advance guard of eleven thousand men under the Marquis of Cadiz was despatched by forced marches to blockade the city of Ronda, and prevent its being reinforced or supplied with provisions. On the arrival of the main body the lines were permanently intrenched, ditches were excavated, and the approaches to the camp of the besiegers fortified by the carts used for the transportation of supplies. On the eighth of May, batteries stationed at three different points opened fire on the fortifications. The one belonging to the division of the Marquis of Cadiz, whose gunners were directed by Moorish renegades, demolished the bottom of the cliff, which concealed from observation the secret gallery by means of which the inhabitants were furnished with water. This passage, which resembled the one at Alhama, was descended by an angular stairway of a hundred and thirty steps hewn by Christian slaves in the solid rock. The approach to the stream, commanded by the missiles of the enemy, could now only be made at the peril of death. Four days afterwards a breach was made in the walls, the city was entered by storm, and the castle, to which the garrison had retired, closely invested. It required but a few discharges from the lombards to demonstrate the hopelessness of further resistance. A deputation of the principal citizens implored with success the clemency of the besiegers, and the inhabitants were permitted to depart unmolested, bearing with them their personal effects, to seek a precarious asylum in cities soon to be shaken, in their turn, by the Christian cannon, and to be exposed to the fate of places abandoned to the fierce passions of an exasperated soldiery. The Alcalde of Setenil and the Alguacil of Ronda, with more than a hundred families, desiring to adopt the condition of Mudejares, or tributary Moors, and thereby to retain their religion and their customs under the protection of the Spanish Crown, were permitted to settle near Seville, where, in after-years, their wealth and the heresy of their detested belief furnished abundant profit and occupation to the familiars of the Inquisition.

From the dungeons of Ronda, on the day of the surrender, issued four hundred Christian captives. Their forlorn appearance, their clothes in rags, and many of them almost naked, their hair and beards long and tangled, their emaciated forms tottering with the weakness of famine and confinement, their limbs laden with ponderous fetters, excited the profound compassion of all who saw them. In the wretched procession were many victims of the Ajarquia disaster, and a number of noble youths who, with a devotion rare even in the days of chivalrous self-sacrifice, had voluntarily delivered themselves into the hands of the enemy to insure the freedom and safety of their fathers.

The signal-fires announcing the danger which threatened Ronda had called together from far and near the warlike peasantry of the mountains. The beacons on the lofty summits of the Serrania were answered by others forty miles away. At their appearance the redoubtable Hamet-al-Zegri returned, followed by the bravest soldiers of Malaga, but his desperate charges upon the Christian lines were fruitless, and the duration of the siege was so short that no time remained for more organized effort, either by assault or stratagem. The amazing rapidity and apparent ease with which one of the most strongly fortified cities in Europe was driven to extremity created a profound impression upon the already disheartened Moslems. From almost every mountain town and settlement as far as Cartama and Marbella messengers bearing offers of submission hastened to the Christian camp. In less than a week, fifty places of more or less importance, and the large extent of territory controlled by them, were added to the Spanish monarchy. The terms upon which the Mudejares were received as tributary subjects were exceedingly favorable, and dictated both by clerical dissimulation and political expediency. On condition of swearing allegiance to the sovereigns, through their chief’s and magistrates, of promising to obey the laws, and of paying the same tribute and taxes which they had formerly been accustomed to render to their own monarchs, they were permitted to practise unmolested their religious rites, to possess their own mosques, to be judged by their kadis, and to transmit and receive by inheritance every species of property, real and personal. It did not take many years to disclose the insincere and perfidious motives by which these apparently humane and generous concessions were dictated. The pathetic history of the Mudejares, subsequently known as Moriscoes, is one of the bloodiest chapters in the annals of the Inquisition.

From the very beginning of the war, the policy of the Catholic sovereigns had been directed even more to depriving their enemies of the means of sustaining hostilities than to the winning of battles, the storming of cities, or the occupation of provinces. Every precaution had been taken to prevent the emirs of Morocco, connected with the dynasty of Granada by ties of blood, community of religious belief, and bonds of friendship and sympathy, from assisting their brethren in their extremity. The traditions of centuries united the reigning families of Granada and Fez; and, while their intimacy had been frequently interrupted by invasion and territorial disputes, the general tenor of their intercourse had been far from inimical, and the African sultans had rarely turned a deaf ear to the supplications of their kinsmen oppressed or insulted by the menacing encroachments of the Christian power. Thoroughly alive to the importance of depriving their antagonists of this formidable resource, the Spaniards had early established a vigilant patrol of armed vessels along the southern coast of the Mediterranean. This patrol was maintained with such rigor that, while nominally instituted to prevent the conveyance of men and supplies to Granada, it practically amounted to a strict blockade of every Mauritanian port, and practically involved the confiscation of all vessels trading to that part of the coast of Africa. Without the possession of a naval power adequate to resist the Spanish fleet, the Emir of Fez, cut off from the commerce of the Mediterranean, had suffered seriously in his revenues, as well as from the deprivation of those articles of foreign luxury essential to the pleasures of an elegant and voluptuous court. Actuated by the powerful motives of self-interest, the African prince despatched a splendid embassy to Cordova deploring the condition to which the maritime interests of his kingdom had been reduced by the unmerited harshness of the Christian monarchs, soliciting an alliance, and requesting, in the most respectful terms, the withdrawal of the fleet. As a proof of the good-will of his master, the Moorish envoy brought with him many beautiful and costly gifts. The embassy was received with every mark of distinction by the Spanish sovereigns; assurances of friendship and consideration were transmitted with all the pomp and formality of Castilian etiquette to the Sultan of Fez; but the alliance was declined; and while the strictness of the blockade was somewhat relaxed, so far as the intercourse of neutrals was concerned, the scrutiny of the ports, and the visitation of outgoing vessels suspected of hostile designs, were continued with all their vexatious severity.

With the desertion of their African brethren the cause of the Spanish Moslems became indeed desperate. The only hope of foreign succor lost, abandoned to their own resources, incessantly torn by faction, their bravest warriors sacrificed to tribal enmity, with division in the council, treason in the camp, and incompetency and cowardice in the field, it is one of the most remarkable facts in the history of their hopeless struggle that it could have been so long maintained in the face of an enemy growing stronger with every battle, of great numerical superiority, furnished with every improved means of aggressive warfare, and supplied with provisions by a territory ten times larger and vastly more populous than their own.

With the keen discernment born of natural shrewdness and the strategical experience acquired in repeated campaigns, some of them attended with serious disaster, Ferdinand and Isabella resolved hereafter to use every resource for the reduction of the principal remaining Moorish cities, well aware that the acquisition of any place of importance would be immediately followed by the submission of a large extent of contiguous and dependent territory. The most wealthy and best fortified stronghold still held by the Moslems was Malaga. To reduce it would require not only a numerous fleet and a powerful army, but the subjugation of every town in the vicinity which could either aid the garrison or obstruct the progress of the besiegers. Of these, Marbella, from whose walls Gibraltar and Ceuta were plainly visible, and the situation of whose harbor offered a convenient refuge to any vessels that might escape the vigilance of the Spanish cruisers, was the next point towards which the efforts of the Catholic monarchs were directed. A letter was sent to the city, and a submissive response received. But the tenor of this epistle, while apparently ingenuous, to the Spanish mind, familiar with the crafty stratagems of infidel duplicity, conveyed the impression that it had been framed merely for the purpose of gaining time. As the importance of the object to be obtained was paramount, it was determined to move the entire army from Ronda to Marbella, a distance of only eight leagues, but through a region never before traversed by so numerous a force, and whose natural difficulties were unequalled by those of any other portion of the Peninsula. As soon as the Spaniards arrived, Marbella was evacuated; Montemayor and twelve other towns of the district tendered their allegiance; and the King, advancing, pitched his tent within a league of Malaga.

The hardships endured by the troops upon this march exceeded any to which they had hitherto been subjected, except those resulting from the defeat of the Ajarquia. Aside from the tremendous and unintermitting exertions required for the transportation of artillery and munitions of war along steep paths and over almost inaccessible mountains, the defective commissary arrangements produced a famine. For days both men and horses were compelled to subsist on herbs and palmettoes; and at Marbella the suffering was still intense, as the ships laden with supplies, detained by contrary winds, were prevented from reaching the harbor. The Moors, informed by their scouts of the enfeebled condition of the soldiers, made a furious attack upon the baggage-train while it was entangled in a narrow pass between the mountains and the sea. The muleteers and their escort, separated from their comrades, and, by the nature of the ground, rendered incapable of successful defence, were instantly thrown into confusion. The Grand Master of Alcantara, who commanded the rear-guard, by dint of hard fighting finally extricated himself from his perilous situation, where, had the Moors exhibited a little more perseverance, a catastrophe might have ensued that would have jeopardized the safety of the entire Christian army.

The appearance of the King of Spain with a force of imposing numbers, and part of the siege-train which had levelled with such ease the formidable walls of Ronda, struck with consternation the inhabitants of Malaga, unprepared as they were for the contest which was finally to determine the fate of their lives and fortunes. But it soon became evident that their foes were in no condition to sustain the labors of a siege. The privations of a long and arduous campaign could not have reduced an army to greater distress than that now afflicting the soldiers of Ferdinand. They tottered with weakness as they marched, some even dropped fainting in the ranks. It was with difficulty that the stragglers could be collected—such was the laxity of discipline—or the sick and the exhausted be rescued from the scouting parties of the enemy that constantly hung upon their flanks, and whose tender mercies were slavery and death. The famishing horses, unable to bear the weight of their riders, were led by the bridle, and many of them were abandoned. The pack-saddles and the carts used for the commissariat were empty. In this forlorn plight the army, after some days, succeeded in reaching Antequera, where an opportunity was afforded for thorough recuperation preparatory to the resumption of hostilities.

No circumstance in the history of the Reconquest more clearly demonstrates the decline of Moslem intrepidity and spirit than this unmolested retreat of the Christians. In expectation of a siege, all the available forces of the kingdom had been concentrated at Malaga. They were commanded by the famous Al-Zagal, one of the greatest captains of his time, a veteran versed in every stratagem of war, the idol of his soldiers, the hero of many a successful expedition. The country through which the exhausted and disorganized force must pass was of such a character that in many localities a handful of determined men might easily withstand a host. The condition of the Spaniards, who were scarcely able to walk, precluded the possibility of a formidable resistance. And yet, with every advantage on their side, with the enemy impeded by an invaluable artillery train which could not be defended from a bold attack, with the fascinating prospect of a royal capture to excite the emulation of the daring, with the certainty of valuable spoil and martial glory to inflame the ambitious, the Moors dared not seize what was almost within their grasp.

Of the numerous governors who had, in succession, been placed in charge of the important fortress of Alhama, Don Gutierre de Padilla, an official of high rank in the military order of Calatrava, now enjoyed that responsible and perilous distinction. The absence of the cavalry of Granada, summoned to the defence of Malaga, afforded an opportunity for booty which the rapacious instincts of that officer were unable to resist. A foray was made, which swept from the very suburbs of the capital a large number of cattle and sheep and a few unfortunate captives. During their return the Christians unexpectedly encountered Al-Zagal with the flower of the Moslem troops. In the engagement which followed, the Christians were utterly routed, and the few who escaped were pursued to the gates of Alhama.

His energy, his reputation for knowledge of war, and his executive ability, had, a short time before, gained for that old warrior the precarious and barren honor of the crown. The people of Granada, awed and irritated by the capture of Ronda, demanded with one voice the recognition of Al-Zagal as king. His recent successful exploit greatly increased his popularity. Oppressed with his growing infirmities, Muley Hassan readily consented to abdicate, and to surrender to his brother the shadow, as he had long enjoyed the substance, of power. While the streets were ringing with the shouts of the people, who hailed with enthusiasm the accession of a new and warlike sovereign, Muley Hassan, conducted by his slaves to a litter, left for the last time the city which had been the scene of so many victories and so many calamities during his long and diversified career. Almuñecar was selected as his temporary residence, its strong position rendering it easy to be defended by land, while its proximity to the sea left open, in case of necessity, a way of escape to the coast of Africa. His abdication, although recognized as a political necessity by the aged King, was too much for his proud and sensitive spirit, broken by disease and filial ingratitude. A few months afterwards he expired, unattended save by his immediate family, at Mondujar, in the valley of Lecrin.

It was the request of the dying monarch that his body should be interred, not with those of his ancestors, whose reigns had been immortalized by the glories of arms, of arts, of letters, in the noble pantheon of the Alhambra, but, as became his misfortunes and his sorrows, in some solitude, far from the haunts of men. In accordance with his wishes, the summit of the Sierra Nevada was chosen as the place of sepulture, and there, covered with eternal snows, rest the bones of the fierce warrior whose name was once the terror of the frontier, while the peak of Muley Hassan forms a far more noble and enduring monument than the splendid tombs of silver and alabaster, long since broken and scattered to the winds, which once enclosed the remains of the members of his royal line.

The accession of Al-Zagal was signalized by a brilliant achievement which confirmed the wisdom of the popular movement which had raised him to the throne. Ferdinand had formed the project of besieging Moclin, whose proximity to Granada made it a point of great advantage, and which, according to information furnished by treacherous spies, was negligently guarded. With a view to cutting off reinforcements, the Count of Cabra, with ten thousand men, was sent forward to surround the city at night. Al-Zagal, duly apprised of this design, anticipated the arrival of the Christians, and with a force of twenty thousand soldiers strengthened the garrison, and placed an ambuscade in a narrow defile through which the path of the invaders lay. The Spaniards, bent on plunder and scattered in confusion, were suddenly encompassed by a host of enemies. Surprised themselves when they had hoped to strike the enemy unawares, and demoralized by the sudden attack in the darkness, they were slaughtered almost without resistance, and the Count of Cabra, severely wounded, experienced great difficulty in avoiding capture. The pursuit extended for a league; the terrified fugitives were pierced, as they fled, with the Moslem lances; and Al-Zagal, with a long train of prisoners and the horses and arms secured in the skirmish, again entered the Alhambra in triumph. As a result of this reverse the siege of Moclin was for the time abandoned; and the arms of Ferdinand were turned against the double fortress of Cambil and Al-Rabal near Jaen, which region had for years been annoyed by the Moorish freebooters that infested it, and at every opportunity swooped down upon the fertile plains around that city, bearing away to their inaccessible stronghold everything within their reach. The fortress resisted but a few hours after having been subjected to the fire of the Spanish cannon; and this success, added to the surprise of Zalea, an outpost castle near Alhama, by the governor of the latter city, to some extent compensated for the disaster of Moclin.

The death of Muley Hassan, so far from having a tendency to reconcile the clashing interests of faction, seemed to threaten the inauguration of scenes of even greater atrocity than had hitherto disgraced the civil wars of the kingdom. The restless and malignant Ayesha urged her son, inert at Cordova, to again assert his claim to the throne. At her instigation, it was publicly asserted that Muley Hassan had been poisoned by Al-Zagal, whose following soon became seriously diminished by the corrupt and seditious efforts of her enterprising partisans. Another bloody struggle, that would have soon exhausted the remaining strength of the distracted monarchy and precipitated the disaster, which, though imminent and inevitable, was still regarded as remote, was averted by the plausible but impolitic suggestion of an influential faqui, who proposed a division of territory between the two contending princes. Nothing but the desperate nature of the contest and the universal apprehension of impending ruin could have reconciled the minds of the people to the adoption of such an extraordinary and suicidal measure. To accept it might prolong for a time the independence of a nation whose existence was already precarious; its rejection was certain to speedily entail the most fatal consequences. No one endowed with the smallest measure of ordinary discernment could imagine that two claimants to the crown, each accustomed to consider the other as an usurper and an enemy, could reconcile their adverse interests or even long maintain a suspicious neutrality by a partition of dominion dictated by mutual fears and apparent necessity. The complacency with which the proposition was received by both discloses to what degradation the descendants of the royal line of the Alhamares had fallen. With equal facility the conditions relating to the several divisions of and jurisdiction over the different provinces were adjusted. To Al-Zagal was allotted the territory from the limits of the district of Almeria to the bridge of Tablate, including the Alpujarras and the cities of Malaga, Almeria, Velez, and Almuñecar; all of the remainder was to belong to his nephew. Granada was to be the common residence of both sovereigns,—to Boabdil was assigned the Alcazaba, of old the political focus of his party; the residence of Al-Zagal was established in the Alhambra.

This unwise arrangement made by Boabdil with an implacable enemy of his suzerain placed him in an ambiguous and compromising position. He had received his crown under the implied condition of defending it. By a previous treaty, concluded with the most solemn ceremonies and ratified under oath, he had voluntarily declared himself a vassal and tributary of the Spanish sovereigns. If he failed in his duty as the protector of his subjects, he was liable to be murdered, and certain to be deposed. His voluntary surrender of half of the dominions he claimed by the right of inheritance and now held as a fief to a prince whom his recent negotiations had devoted to perpetual hostility, made him subject, under feudal law, to the penalties of treason. To add to his embarrassment, he had no sooner reached Granada than he received from Ferdinand a stern communication reproaching him with duplicity, asserting that his compromise with Al-Zagal was an act of treachery and a breach of his obligations as vassal; that he had forfeited all right to the consideration or protection of his lords, who would hereafter hold him responsible for the public distress which must result from the renewal of hostilities consequent on the violation of his allegiance. The rising fame of Ferdinand and his daily increase of power convinced him that he could now dispense with the royal puppet, with whose pretensions he had distracted the attention of the Moors from the preservation of that unity of national feeling and singleness of purpose which alone could render them formidable. The denunciation of the Castilian King had followed a submissive epistle of Boabdil reiterating his protestations of obedience, which the indignation of Ferdinand led him to declare was violated without excuse. Nothing remained now for the discredited vassal, the ungrateful son, and the vacillating monarch, who had obtained a crown at the expense of his country’s prosperity and freedom, and which, in a few years, he must have legally acquired in the course of nature, but to attempt, by a determined resistance, to atone in some measure for the misery he had inflicted and the lives he had sacrificed.

There are few royal personages in history so impotent and contemptible as Boabdil, and who at the same time have been endowed with such a capacity for mischief. With singular propriety was he termed by his countrymen Al-Zogoibi, The Unfortunate. Born in the purple, he fought and negotiated for a throne which he eventually lost under circumstances of the deepest humiliation. Indisputably brave, he never won a battle. During his entire career the most inauspicious prognostics foretold, to a people deeply versed in the science of omen and augury, the disastrous result of every martial enterprise. In Spain he unconsciously contributed to the enthralment of his subjects by their most vindictive and uncompromising enemy; in Africa, whither he was driven by relentless fate, he fell, by the hands of barbarians, in defence of a stranger prince, who, alone among sovereigns, was willing to accord to a royal exile the rites of hospitality.

CHAPTER XXII
TERMINATION OF THE RECONQUEST
1486–1492

Summary of the Causes of the Decay of the Moslem Empire—Loja taken by Storm—Progress of the Feud between Al-Zagal and Boabdil—The Christians assist the Latter—Anarchy in Granada—Siege of Velez—Ineffectual Attempt of Al-Zagal to relieve it—Surrender of the City—Situation of Malaga—Its Delightful Surroundings—Its Vast Commercial and Manufacturing Interests—It is invested by Ferdinand—Desperate Resistance of the Garrison—Its Sufferings—Capitulation of the City—Enslavement of the Population—Duplicity of the Spanish Sovereigns—War with Al-Zagal—Siege of Baza—Discontent of the Christian Soldiery—Energy and Firmness of the Queen—Embassy from the Sultan—Baza surrenders—Al-Zagal relinquishes His Crown—War with Boabdil—The Last Campaign—Blockade of Granada—Distress of Its Inhabitants—Submission of the Capital—Fate of Boabdil—Isabella the Inspiring Genius of the Conquest.

The relentless policy of the Spanish sovereigns, which, in addition to the resources of honorable warfare, adopted without reserve every crafty expedient to weaken the power of their adversaries, pursued its end with unflagging perseverance and indomitable energy. The paramount value of the old Roman maxim, “Divide et impera,” which had been the corner-stone of the great political fabric that dominated the ancient world, had long been fully recognized by the Christian sovereigns of the Peninsula. The animosity of the Moslem factions that so frequently, in the settlement of their sanguinary disputes, summoned from the Desert great hordes of Mauritanian barbarians, first afforded to the struggling Castilian monarchy an example whose teachings it was not slow to appreciate and to follow. From the earliest times, its surreptitious aid to or its open alliance with the weaker party had fomented and encouraged the feuds of the Spanish Arabs. It was this incessant interference which, countenancing the aspirations of bold and unprincipled adventurers and in direct contravention of the principles of national amity, kept every Moslem court in a state of continued apprehension and turmoil. Even the frequent seditions, the general disorganization consequent upon the encroachments of powerful nobles and the protracted minority of infant kings, while they somewhat diminished by no means abrogated this useful and effective method of conquering an enemy by the promotion of internecine strife. The pre-eminent valor of the Castilian chivalry can never be disputed. But, as important a factor as it was in the military affairs of Europe, the part it played in the Conquest of Granada was a subordinate one. The destruction of Moslem power was mainly effected by the machinations of political intrigue, and to this end the deplorable state of a society where an absolute want of moral principle was disclosed by the perpetration of the most atrocious crimes largely contributed. The popularity of the khalifs and the emirs was always superficial, and often only nominal. Their superior dignity both as sovereigns and legatees of the holy office of Mohammed exalted them far above the most eminent of their subjects. With the masses, whom they seldom condescended to notice, they could have nothing in common. Their empire, obtained by conquest, was ruled by despotism and preserved by force. The incalculable benefits conferred by their wise and enlightened administration were never appreciated by those who enjoyed them. The savage ferocity of the Bedouin, transmitted through countless generations, dominated every other impulse. It exercised its baleful influence in the gorgeous palace of the sovereign, in the busy haunts of commerce, in the hut of the stolid and irascible peasant, even in the temple where were publicly inculcated the obligations of forgiveness and peace. The prospect of boundless empire, the advantages of a lucrative trade, the acquisition of enormous wealth, the prosecution of philosophical studies, the remembrance of great achievements, the conscious pride of mental superiority, the omnipresent tokens of a magnificent civilization, could never erase from the Arab mind the traditions of hereditary prejudice or fuse into an harmonious whole the discordant elements of the Arab character.

There is nothing more pathetic in human annals than the destruction of a nation whose works have for ages contributed to the welfare and happiness of mankind, whose discoveries in every department of knowledge have called forth the applause of the learned and elicited the grateful acknowledgment of subsequent generations, and which, consumed by the unquenchable fire of internal discord, has squandered in civil war the talents and the resources which, properly applied, might have for centuries maintained its greatness and perpetuated its power. The fall of the Moslem empire in Europe is a striking example of the inexorable law of human destiny. Had the Moslems not succumbed to the encroachments of Castilian conquest, their eternal dissensions must have eventually invited the interference of some other aggressor. Commercial prosperity, which, while encouraging selfishness and luxury, degrades in the eyes of an effeminate and cowardly population the profession of arms, had sapped the vitality of the kingdom of Granada. Its bravest defenders were not natives of the soil, but mercenaries from Africa. Partisan frenzy which hesitated at no excesses had usurped the rights and supplanted the sentiments of patriotism. The most flagrant depravity permeated every class of society. The beauties of a terrestrial paradise were polluted by scenes which proclaimed the shocking degradation of mankind; by crimes which cannot be conceived without dismay; by vices which cannot be mentioned without shame. Thus infected with corruption, enfeebled by treason, its treasures dissipated by civil war, its blood lavishly shed in the suicidal strife of its factions, with one party in open alliance with the enemy of its race and its creed, no nation could long preserve its integrity or its existence.

In accordance with the concerted plan of the Spanish court, which contemplated the prosecution of hostilities interrupted only by the inclemency of the seasons, it was determined to again attempt the conquest of Loja. A force of fifty-two thousand men was considered necessary to carry this enterprise to a successful termination. The memory of former disaster suggested the expediency of the most ample and thorough preparation. It was decided to establish, in the form of a triangle, three different camps in the lines of circumvallation, each of which, strongly fortified and independent of the others, should be capable of resisting, if necessary, the entire power of the Moslem armies. The uneven character of the ground, rendered more difficult of access by the groves and houses with which it was covered, afforded such opportunities for ambush and surprise that the reduction of the city by the ordinary method of investment was considered impracticable. In addition to this disadvantage, its proximity to Granada and its consequent pre-eminent value as a bulwark of that city, rendered it certain that an attempt would be made to relieve it. The military organization was more complete than had been aimed at in any previous campaign. Gradually, and with a tact which concealed its object while perfecting its designs, the reins of discipline were tightened without giving offence to the naturally proud and insubordinate spirit of the Spanish soldiery. To convey the artillery and the supplies for the camp, two thousand carts and seventy thousand beasts of burden were assembled. The fame of the war and the reported wealth of the Moors had by this time become familiar to Europe, and numerous adventurers from other countries hastened to serve under the banners of Castile and Aragon, in a cause which, promoted by liberal indulgences and sanctified by the papal benediction, had been invested with the character of a pious crusade. It was no unusual occurrence for the chivalry of France to participate in the glory of Spanish campaigns; in the wars of Don Pedro el Cruel, the English knights had obtained an enviable reputation for valor and courtesy amidst a people whose national distinction was the possession of these attributes in an eminent degree; and now, inspired by the example of his countrymen, the Earl of Rivers, connected by blood with Elizabeth of York, Queen Consort of England, came to tender his services to the sovereigns of Spain. Besides his esquires, three hundred archers and battle-axemen followed in his train, sturdy yeomen armed with those weapons which, almost unknown in the wars of the Peninsula, were wielded by the strangers with matchless dexterity and strength.

The reported advance of the Spanish army on Loja was received by the feeble and unprincipled Boabdil with feelings of undisguised consternation. His prudence, which at times bordered upon abject cowardice, prompted him to abandon the city to its fate. While motives of policy, dictated by fears inspired by the threats of an offended suzerain, impelled him to adopt a pusillanimous inaction, the menacing clamors of the people, refusing to witness unmoved the sacrifice of a frontier fortress of such importance, admonished him that if he neglected to heed their remonstrances his crown might be endangered. Therefore, without further delay, he called together forty-five hundred well-armed troops, and entered Loja a short time before the arrival of the Christian vanguard. The approach of the latter was the signal for a sortie from the city. A bloody skirmish took place in one of the suburbs near the scene of the former Christian discomfiture, but the Moors were repulsed with loss; and Boabdil, who had greatly distinguished himself by his reckless bravery, received two painful wounds, which for the time disabled him.

As the investment proceeded, the incessant activity of the besieged made it necessary to adopt the greatest vigilance in protecting the camps. As soon as they had been thoroughly fortified the suburbs were stormed, an undertaking of much difficulty, and only accomplished after the loss of many lives. In these contests the brawny arm of Hamet-al-Zegri, who had come from Malaga, and, with his ferocious troopers, appeared in the thickest of the fight, was eminently conspicuous. The lombards, brought within easy range of the walls, soon opened a breach, through which the impetuous soldiery made their way. In the streets barricades impeded their advance; and the Moors, in the exertion of desperate but unavailing efforts, casting aside all other weapons, defended the passage with their daggers. For eight hours, without cessation, the battle went on. The ground, won foot by foot, was covered with corpses and slippery with blood. In no engagement of the war was an attack met with more determined obstinacy. The Earl of Rivers, who sustained with distinguished gallantry the reputation of the English name, was wounded in the mouth, and escaped death by a miracle. The path of the storming column was marked by the bodies of his archers who had fallen in the ranks, and who, on that fiercely contested field, surpassed in serene and inflexible courage even the glorious prowess of the famous chivalry of Spain. At length the garrison and the surviving inhabitants were driven into the citadel. Its area was so circumscribed that all available space was densely packed with a mass of struggling, shrieking humanity. The terrible lombards were drawn forward and trained upon the fortress. At the first discharge a tower where a large number of men and women had taken refuge was shattered and fell, burying hundreds in its ruins. In addition to the havoc made by the artillery, arrows, to which were attached flaming balls of tow steeped in naphtha, were shot into the castle, bearing conflagration in their wake, and consuming buildings into which, for greater security, the sick and wounded had been carried. The helpless citizens, thus exposed to inevitable death, now clamored for surrender; but even the desperate condition which confronted him failed to move the timorous and irresolute Boabdil, who was justly apprehensive of the wrath of the Spanish King. The situation soon became so critical, however, that the Moslem prince was compelled to make overtures for capitulation, which were received with greater indulgence than he had reason to expect; and, after an humble apology, he was permitted to retire in safety from the city he had defended with such heroic but fruitless valor. The people of Loja were granted the privilege of retaining their personal property on condition of abandoning their homes, and the roads leading to Granada and Malaga were soon crowded with weeping exiles, whose lamentations and distress affected even the iron hearts of the Spanish soldiery, hardened by repeated scenes of suffering and blood.

Illora and Moclin soon shared the fate of Loja. Their vicinity to Granada, affording the greatest facilities for reinforcement and relief, the vital importance of their possession, located, as they were, almost at the gates of the capital, and practically controlling its approaches, their stupendous defences, especially those of Moclin, which almost rivalled in strength the walls and towers of Ronda, did not prevent Boabdil from basely abandoning these keys of the Vega to the Christian enemy. In vain were messengers repeatedly despatched to implore the help of their countrymen. The King, a prey to conflicting emotions, hesitating between fear of the Spaniards and apprehension of domestic violence, remained insensible to the appeals of his beleaguered subjects, who, resisting the besiegers with every resource within their power, cursed the destiny that had placed them in the hands of such an unworthy sovereign. During the siege of Moclin, a tower containing the magazine was blown up by a fire-arrow, and the surrender was precipitated by this casualty, which not only killed many soldiers, but deprived the survivors of an indispensable means of defence. The campaign was concluded by the voluntary submission of Montefrio and Colomera, and by a foray through the Vega marked by the pitiless devastation that always accompanied these expeditions.

The series of disasters which continued to afflict the Moslem cause, and to suggest the imminence of the final catastrophe in which everything would be lost, began, when too late, to arouse public feeling against Boabdil, who, blind to the dangers that menaced him, saw from his palace his nominal allies storming his cities and wasting his territory with fire and sword. Especially violent was the fury of Al-Zagal, who, realizing that nothing short of the death of his nephew could mitigate the evils that harassed the kingdom, adopted every expedient to accomplish that object. His emissaries sought opportunities to stab or poison Boabdil, but in vain. Foiled in his attempts, the fierce old veteran wreaked his vengeance without pity on all the principal adherents of the adverse faction who fell into his hands. His machinations in the absence of Boabdil, who remained at Velez el Blanco under treatment for the wounds he had received at Loja, so increased the public discontent at Granada that the authority of the absent King was in danger of being undermined in his own stronghold, the Albaycin. To counteract these intrigues, Boabdil one night suddenly appeared before a gate of that riotous quarter of the city. His arrival was the signal for the renewal of the fratricidal strife which had already decimated the ranks of the Moorish nobles, and sacrificed to the rancor of partisan hostility the bravest youths of the kingdom. National misfortunes, the subject of mutual accusation and reproach, had intensified the hatred of both factions; the war now became one of extermination; quarter was neither asked nor expected; the wounded were killed as they lay, and every prisoner was despatched without mercy. From the streets, reeking like a shambles with the horrible butchery, the conflict was transferred to the Vega. Entire days were consumed in these scenes of horror, until the combatants, exhausted by their efforts, but not satiated with bloodshed, retired to their quarters to recuperate their failing strength. In all these encounters the adherents of Al-Zagal had the advantage, but the crafty old King, desirous of sparing his soldiers, determined to reduce his enemy by siege. A strong intrenchment was drawn around the Albaycin, and the inhabitants, whose allegiance to their sovereign had already been shaken by the apathy he evinced during the public distress, in addition to the evils of warfare, were now threatened with the sufferings of famine. The general disaffection, no longer concealed, threatened the sacrifice of an obnoxious ruler to the public peace, when Boabdil anticipated this treasonable intention by an act which has condemned his name to everlasting disgrace. The aid of the Christians was invoked to sustain his tottering throne; and Don Fadrique de Toledo, governor of the frontier, advanced without delay, at the head of a considerable force, to maintain the pretensions of the nominal ally, but actual dupe, of the astute and unprincipled Ferdinand. The instructions given to all the Spanish commanders forbade the weakening of either faction to such an extent as to endanger the equilibrium of the balance of power, which, carefully maintained during the ruthless struggle, must eventually prove fatal to both parties and result in the complete disintegration of the monarchy. Don Fadrique therefore amused each prince in turn with the prospect of negotiation and alliance, alarming both and assisting neither, until their mutual exasperation was again excited to the verge of frenzy, when he quietly withdrew. But the enthusiasm of Boabdil’s partisans, largely feigned and artificial, vanished with the departure of the Spaniards. The merchants and artificers of the Albaycin were weary of the ruinous interruption of their trade, and the majority of the inhabitants of that quarter of the city, long the scene of insurrection and bloodshed, began to turn towards Al-Zagal in the hope of security and peace. The tidings of this revulsion of feeling alarmed the scheming diplomats of the Spanish court, and measures were at once taken to counteract it. Martin Alarcon, Governor of Moclin, and Gonsalvo de Cordova, Governor of Illora,—afterwards famous as the Great Captain, and now fast rising to distinction among the Castilian commanders,—both eminent for tactical genius and intrepidity, were secretly admitted with a body of picked men into the Albaycin. The gold with which they were abundantly provided proved more attractive to the mercenary populace of Granada than loyalty to king or love of country. Multitudes hastened to enlist; a few hours were sufficient to collect a force respectable in numbers, if not in character and discipline; and the discouraged Boabdil, with the appearance of prosperous fortune secured at the expense of national honor and personal integrity, was again able to indulge the hope of gratifying his furious and insatiable thirst for vengeance and of maintaining the precarious existence of his ephemeral power. The introduction of armed Christians within the walls of the Moorish capital was, of itself, to many reflecting Moslems a most inauspicious omen. But when to this was added the dishonorable reason for their presence, the fact that the hereditary sovereign of the Alhamares had implored against his own countrymen the support of enemies, who, for seven hundred years, had pursued his race with all the rancor of theological hatred and national hostility, and was employing the gold donated by the Christian infidel to secure the doubtful allegiance of men who, degraded by every abject vice, were equally insensible to the influence of personal merit or patriotic principle, the portent became still darker and more menacing. The degradation of the contemptible Boabdil was now complete. Nothing of which he might hereafter be guilty could add to the overwhelming measure of his infamy. He had already sacrificed the welfare of his country to retain a kingdom which he had neither the capacity to govern nor the resolution to defend. He was now putting his subjects up at auction, and tempting them to assist in their own enslavement by the acceptance of money furnished by foes who aspired to become their masters. Supine in every emergency requiring action, he only displayed energy in furthering the designs of those who struck at the independent existence of his people, the permanence of his dynasty, and the retention of his crown.

It was not characteristic of Al-Zagal to witness unmoved the treacherous introduction of enemies into the heart of his capital. Strong detachments were summoned from Baza and Guadix, sharp-shooters were stationed on the roofs of houses within range of the Alcazaba, the streets were obstructed by barricades, and all attempts of the Spaniards to penetrate into the city having been repulsed, the scene of hostilities was transferred to the suburbs, where, for two months, with varying success, the two factions indulged to satiety their thirst for blood, expended in daily encounters the strength which, judiciously applied, would have repelled the common enemy, and prosecuted, to the exultant satisfaction of the Christians, the war of extermination, which insured to the latter the ultimate triumph of their power. It was in vain that the citizens most eminent for wealth and position, appalled by the enormities they were daily compelled to witness, endeavored to stem the tide of slaughter and anarchy. Some of these were impelled by sincerely patriotic sentiments, others by simulated indignation assumed to gratify the sordid motives of personal ambition and private interest. Among the latter were many santons, or ascetics, who, in addition to the reverence attached to their calling, exercised among the populace the pernicious influence of the demagogue. In this class the emissaries of Ferdinand found most ardent and efficient supporters, who greedily accepted the gold which was to be the price of their treason. No greater proof of national decadence can exist than that thus exhibited by the corruption of spiritual guides who have voluntarily assumed the vow of poverty, and yet are willing to barter for the bribes of an enemy the peace and honor of their country and the maintenance of its religious faith. Those partisans of Boabdil who amidst the general distress had been fortunate enough to preserve intact a portion of their possessions were induced to remain steadfast in their allegiance by fallacious promises of exclusive commercial privileges with the Christian kingdoms of the Peninsula, promises which were conveniently forgotten when the time arrived for their fulfilment. To further confirm the timid in their adherence to an unpopular and unpatriotic cause, the severest penalties were denounced against all who wavered in their allegiance to Boabdil, or in any way assisted the opposite faction, which was not only secretly regarded by the Christians themselves as the exponent of Moorish nationality, but was recognized by the better class of the population of the kingdom as representative of the remaining dignity of the Alhamares and the rallying point of the Moslem power. Having expended their treasure and secured the continuance of the suicidal strife so necessary to the successful realization of the designs of their sovereign, the Spaniards retired from Granada.

The attention of the Moors having been thus distracted from the operations of Ferdinand by their frenzied efforts at mutual destruction, the Christian army, assembled at Archidona, took up its march for the South with a view to the conquest of Velez. This city, situated on the mountain slope within a quarter of a mile of the sea, possessed the advantages of commanding the roads to Granada and the coast, and was considered the key of Malaga. Fortified with great strength, and inaccessible to heavy artillery on account of the rugged nature of the country, it had long been celebrated as the head-quarters of the most audacious and savage troopers who visited with their desolating presence the fertile plains of Andalusia. In addition to its walls and its citadel,—one of the strongest in the kingdom,—its suburbs, which were of great extent, were protected by extensive works and by ditches impassable by cavalry. A league away, on the very summit of the mountain, was Bentomiz, a fortress whose proximity might prove dangerous to a besieging army, and whose approaches were so difficult as almost to defy attack.

The arrival of the Spaniards was followed by a skirmish, where the King, exposed to great danger, behaved with his habitual intrepidity, and by his heroic example saved his followers from defeat. The next day, six hours of constant fighting were required to dislodge the Moors from the suburbs, where a sharp hand-to-hand contest was maintained as far as the walls of the city. Every effort was now exerted to hasten the advance of the siege-train. The progress of the latter was exceedingly slow. It was found necessary to construct roads for its passage through a region hitherto traversed only by steep and dangerous paths. Only the smaller pieces could be transported at all, and the lombards, whose effectiveness had been felt in every previous campaign, were left at Antequera. But three miles a day could be accomplished owing to these obstacles, to which was added the danger of surprise from the enemy, who was constantly hovering above on the sierras, and whose chain of fires at night illumined the horizon for many a league. The uncertainty of the event, the perils with which he was surrounded, and the caution born of costly experience, impressed upon Ferdinand the necessity of maintaining a rigorous discipline. The freebooting character of the Spanish levies, accustomed for generations to the uncontrolled exercise of military license, rendered the enforcement of such a measure an undertaking of extreme difficulty. But the iron will of the King, supported by the co-operation of his principal commanders, proved equal to the task. Drunkenness, gambling, and fighting were severely punished. No one was permitted to engage the enemy without authority from his superior. Rapine and incendiarism were sternly repressed. Vicious persons of both sexes were expelled from the lines. The adoption of these regulations, enforced by the summary execution of a few offenders, effected a remarkable transformation in the manners of the soldiery, and quiet and order began to reign in the camp, which, but a short time before, had been the scene of riot, insubordination, and boisterous revelry. Such a sudden and complete metamorphosis was without parallel in the history of European armies. The severe discipline established by Ferdinand before Velez laid the foundation of the celebrity for steadiness in battle subsequently attained by the armies of Spain. The efforts of Gonsalvo de Cordova and his illustrious comrades and successors in perfecting the system inaugurated by their sovereign, maintained and improved that high state of efficiency which carried the arms of Castile and Aragon over two worlds in an uninterrupted career of victory and conquest.

In the mean time, while the loss of the southern portion of the kingdom was imminent, the murderous hostility of the contending parties in Granada continued unabated. Anarchy, in its most dreadful form, prevailed throughout the entire capital. The streets, the scene of daily encounters, were strewn with the dead. In every home were the signs of conflict, in every household the melancholy evidences of bereavement and distress. All trade was at an end. The city was a prey to outlaws. Reputation for the ownership of gold and jewels was equivalent to a sentence of death. The ruffian soldiery, cruel, sensual, and rapacious, intruded unchallenged into the private apartments of the most noble families of the kingdom. Even the retired precincts of the harem, sacred and inviolate in the eyes of every sincere believer, were not respected. Female virtue was sacrificed to the licentious passions of those whose first duty was to defend it. Every dwelling that promised a rich return was plundered. In these deeds of rapine and bloodshed the partisans of the mean-spirited Boabdil were disgracefully conspicuous. To such extremes of ignominy was that prince driven to earn the support and approbation of perfidious allies, only to eventually merit the contempt and abhorrence of posterity.

The pugnacious instincts of Al-Zagal were aroused by the new invasion of his enemies which menaced his supremacy on the coast. But scarcely able to maintain his ground against his nephew in the Albaycin, he was in no condition to successfully contend with the numerous and well-appointed squadrons of Castile. He was justly fearful that his absence would be immediately followed by the triumph of his adversary and his permanent exclusion from the capital; in his perplexity he made overtures for peace. His patriotic suggestion that all Moslems should unite and expel the enemy from their borders was rejected with scorn by Boabdil, who insulted with opprobrious epithets the age and dignity of his uncle, and, recounting in detail the attempts to murder him, declared that his desire was not for reconciliation but for vengeance. Apprehensive of misfortune, yet unable longer to withstand the importunity of his counsellors, who realized the disastrous consequences which must ensue from the fall of Velez, and confident that his success would insure the ruin of his rival, whose authority was more dependent on the pecuniary aid of the Christians than on the attachment of his adherents, Al-Zagal summoned all the troops at his disposal, and, leaving the city secretly, prepared to surprise the Spaniards in their intrenchments. His army, though formidable in numbers, was far from being equal in efficiency and prowess to those he had formerly led to victory. His bravest followers, the flower of the chivalry of Granada, and the fierce horsemen of the Desert, whose impetuosity and prowess had so often prevailed over the seasoned veterans of Castile, had fallen in the bloody encounters provoked by the treason and the enmity of Boabdil or had perished by the hand of the assassin. His partisans, with the exception of a few detachments drawn from the district still faithful to his cause, were composed of raw levies, most of them mere boys, unaccustomed to discipline, and unfamiliar with military evolutions and the practice of warfare except as they had been learned in the melancholy school of civil discord and in the sanguinary riots which daily polluted with the blood of unarmed citizens the streets of the Moorish capital. Such were the inadequate means with which Al-Zagal was about to confront the most thoroughly organized and equipped force which had ever served under the banners of the Spanish monarchy. Immense bonfires on the mountain peaks announced to the Christians the approach of the enemy. A reconnoissance soon revealed his identity. The capture of a scout to whom the plan of a midnight attack had been imprudently intrusted enabled Ferdinand to defeat the project of his adversary. The designs of Al-Zagal, though conceived with his usual sagacity, were not executed with the vigor and caution which had previously characterized his operations. Traitors in the pay of the Spaniards lurked in his camp, and his intended movements were hardly planned before they were communicated to the enemy. It was the intention of the Moorish king to destroy the siege-train, which, loaded on fifteen hundred carts, had at last been brought with infinite toil to a spot two miles from Velez. Isolated from the main body of the army, with its guard unsuspicious of danger, a nocturnal surprise would probably have insured its destruction, and, as an inevitable consequence, have compelled the retirement of the besiegers. The scout who had been taken was on his way to Velez to detail the plan and obtain the co-operation of the garrison at the signal of an immense fire to be kindled on the highest peak of the sierra. At the appointed hour the beacon blazed forth against the sky, and the Moslem battalions moved silently forward. As soon as they were fairly involved in the labyrinth of lanes and shaded avenues traversing the suburbs, they were assailed on all sides by overwhelming numbers of the enemy lying in ambush. The suddenness of the attack precipitated a panic. The darkness prevented organized defence, retreat was intercepted, and the Moors were exposed for hours to the deadly fire of foes who fought in comparative security under the shelter of trees and hedges. The cries of the combatants filled the air; the repeated flashes of musketry lighted up the field, revealing the heaps of the dead and dying; the desperate charges of the Moors failed to pierce the lines of the Christians,—indeed they were hardly able in the dense obscurity of an unfamiliar locality to even determine their position; and the contest begun under such disadvantageous conditions for those who had themselves planned a surprise terminated in a massacre. The din of battle reached the city, and the garrison attempted a sortie. The prudence of Ferdinand had anticipated this movement, however, and the Moors, advancing to the relief of their countrymen, were driven back into their fortifications. The first light of dawn fell upon the broken remnant of the Moslem army, which, to the number of more than twenty thousand, had the evening before covered the sierra, and whose soldiers, magnified by the uncertain light of myriads of fires into gigantic spectres, seemed to threaten with annihilation the Spaniards encamped in the valleys far below. Those who survived were scattered everywhere through the mountains, and so complete was their dispersion that the Christians could not realize at first the extent and importance of their victory, nor was it until the discovery of countless weapons abandoned in the hurry of flight and the reports of scouts who had seen the crowds of fugitives had reassured them, that they ventured to relax the unusual vigilance assumed through apprehension of a ruse, or were convinced that a host of well-armed warriors could vanish thus like mist before the rising sun. This overwhelming rout practically decided the fate of the kingdom of Granada. It invested with new and extraordinary prestige the reputation of the Spanish sovereigns. The influence of Boabdil, the discredited hireling and tool of the Castilian court, had long ceased to be formidable. The power of Al-Zagal as a disturbing factor in the hopeless struggle for national existence was forever destroyed. The old monarch, after his defeat, fled to Almuñecar. While journeying from there to Granada, he learned that the mob of that city had risen and declared for his nephew, who was then in possession of the Alhambra, and that such of his own partisans as had not been able to escape had been decapitated without ceremony. Accompanied by a slender escort, the melancholy remnant of that valiant African guard which had participated in the glory and plunder of so many campaigns, Al-Zagal betook himself to Guadix, henceforth to be the capital and centre of his restricted and enfeebled sovereignty.

The result of the battle was, in a double sense, unfavorable to the people of Velez, cooped up within the walls of the doomed city. They had seen their hopes of deliverance dashed to pieces in an instant. On one side could be discerned parties of the enemy collecting the weapons cast away by their kinsmen in their nocturnal flight. On the other, saluted by the cheers of thousands, the long train of heavy carts bearing the artillery against which recent experience had demonstrated the strongest defences were of no avail came in view, guarded by a numerous body of cavalry, winding through the mountains for a distance of many leagues. Not until the ordnance was in sight would the inhabitants of Velez credit that the successful transportation of such ponderous masses of iron through the mountains was possible. It was their first experience of invasion. Their warriors had repeatedly carried fire and sword into the territory of the enemy. Their streets had been frequently obstructed with the spoil of the border foray. Their dungeons were even then crowded with Christian captives. The fair complexions of the children in the harems indicated the offspring of many a Sabine wedding. But never, during the long centuries of the Reconquest, had a hostile force been marshalled before their gates, and rarely had the hated banner of the infidel been seen from the summits of their towers. Dispirited by the prospect, absolutely destitute of hope, aware that a stubborn resistance would only render the terms of capitulation more severe, unable alone to cope with a veteran army of seventy thousand men, abundantly provided with every improved appliance known to the science of the age, subject to the strictest discipline and fighting under the eye of its sovereign, the people of Velez, before the batteries had been planted, despatched envoys to negotiate for surrender. Every consideration consistent with the usages of war was shown to the Moors by the politic Spaniards, who desired, by this example of leniency, to provide in the future for the easy prosecution of other conquests. Secure in the possession of their liberty and their personal effects, the Moslems of Velez were permitted to seek homes in Africa or to become the tributary subjects of the crown, on condition of not bearing arms or holding communication with their countrymen at war with the Spanish monarchy. The practice of their religious rites, the use of their language, and the unmolested enjoyment of their customs were solemnly assumed, an obligation which, like many similar ones, eventually vanished before the ingenious casuistry of the Holy Office. Before leaving the camp, the Catholic sovereigns issued an order granting protection to the subjects of Boabdil, allowing them to till their lands, to resume their mercantile pursuits, and to purchase without hindrance in the Spanish kingdoms such commodities as they might require. Proclamation was also made that all towns and cities within the jurisdiction of Al-Zagal which should voluntarily surrender within six months should receive the most ample privileges heretofore conceded to any place that had tendered its submission, and threatening all such as might prove recalcitrant with the direct consequences which the savage customs of the time might either authorize or inflict.

And now the iron hand of Christian power, menacing, resistless, inexorable, whose advance never slackened, whose grasp never relaxed, extended itself towards the beautiful city of Malaga. Celebrated from the highest antiquity for its picturesque surroundings, for its wealth, for the attractions of its women, for the enterprise of its citizens, for the unusual advantages conferred by its situation, which made it the seat of an immense commerce, in the fifteenth century that city divided with Almeria the lucrative trade of the Western Mediterranean. The keen sagacity of the Phœnicians had early recognized its maritime importance. Carthage inherited its dominion, and long maintained there the agencies and the warehouses of her most opulent merchants. Under the Romans it enjoyed the highest prosperity, but it was reserved for the Spanish Arabs to develop to the utmost the mineral and agricultural wealth of its territory, and to extend the commerce of Malaga to the most remote and inaccessible countries of the Orient, to every port whose location or communications promised a profitable return. Its defences were of the strength demanded by the interests of a great international emporium. Walls of extraordinary height and thickness encompassed the entire circuit of the city. Within this line of circumvallation the different quarters and suburbs, in accordance with Moorish custom, were themselves strongly fortified. One of these was inhabited by the Jews, who, always enjoying unusual privileges under the Moslems, had prospered in the congenial atmosphere of Malaga, which fostered their trading instincts and aspirations until their colony had become in number, in wealth, and in distinction second to none of similar character in Europe. The tolerant and enlightened policy of the Moors had assigned to the enterprising Genoese another suburb which was designated by their name. The extensive and varied commercial relations of that republic were thus intimately connected with those of the principal seaport of Granada. Through its portals constantly passed a vast and growing traffic, which bartered the commodities of every country for the silks, the weapons, the jewelry, the gilded pottery, and the delicious fruits of Spain. The great factories of the merchants of the Adriatic, who at that time possessed the larger share of the carrying trade of the world, lined the crowded quays of Malaga, and their flag was always the most conspicuous among the ensigns of the maritime nations whose vessels rode at anchor in the bay. In their private life the Genoese residents of Malaga exhibited a sybaritic luxury which might vie in pomp and elegance with that of royalty itself. Their palaces were of great extent and of surpassing magnificence. Buried in groves of odoriferous trees, brightened by beds of gorgeous flowers, cooled by innumerable rivulets and fountains, they combined all the ingenious devices of the Moorish landscape-gardener with the taste and symmetry of classic Italy. The most exquisite creations of the Arab artificer in tiles and stucco, in gold and silver, in porcelain and in embroidered tapestry, decorated their apartments. Retinues of swarthy, turbaned slaves obsequiously waited to do the bidding of their masters. Mysterious eunuchs glided silently through the splendid halls. Long familiarity with the customs of their voluptuous and infidel neighbors had erased the memory and the reverence associated with the country of their birth, so closely connected with the Holy See, to such an extent that their disregard of ancient traditions and their laxity of faith might not unjustly merit the imputation of heresy. In the homes of many were lovely concubines, some the spoil of marauding expeditions on the Andalusian border, others purchased by their fastidious masters in the distant markets of Africa and the East.

The Atarazana, a great dock-yard and arsenal provided with every facility for the construction and repair of shipping, occupied one side of the harbor. Its portals of polished marble and jasper were formed by horseshoe arches of an elegance that rather suggested the tranquillity of a sacred shrine than the noise and bustle inseparable from an edifice devoted to the purposes of trade and war. Embracing an area of more than eighteen thousand square feet, it was one of the most notable constructions of the kind in the world. While no ships were actually built within its precincts,—these works being carried on at the adjacent mole and quays,—it contained, nevertheless, all the material and equipment necessary for the completion of every kind of craft. Immense quantities of naval supplies and munitions of war were stored in its ample magazines. It was approached by many gates on the sides towards the city and the sea, but the massive wall which protected its western exterior disclosed no opening which might tempt the attack of an alert and daring enemy. The government of the Atarazana was committed to an officer of high rank, whose post was one of great responsibility, as a large portion of the city was at the mercy of its garrison. For the benefit of the thousands of workmen employed there a mosque was provided, from whose minaret, at the hours designated by the Moslem ritual, the muezzin regularly called the faithful to prayer.

The general aspect of the city was strikingly Oriental,—in the narrow and tortuous streets, often covered by awnings to exclude the heat or spanned by arches; in the sombre dwellings whose frowning walls were occasionally broken by narrow, projecting lattices; in the bazaars, each allotted to a special branch of commerce, where transactions involving the expenditure of great sums were concluded in an apartment scarcely exceeding the dimensions of a modern closet; in the mosques, with their glittering minarets; in the baths, with their ever-moving, ever-changing crowds; in the long strings of camels, each one tied to the croup of his leader, laden with every variety of merchandise; in the groups of richly apparelled ladies, escorted by female slaves and scowling eunuchs; in the confusing babel of a thousand tongues, was faithfully reproduced the picturesque life of Cairo, Bagdad, and Damascus. Moorish Malaga was the most cosmopolitan of cities. No restrictions were laid upon her trade, no vexatious or humiliating conditions attached to a residence within her walls. She numbered among her inhabitants natives of every clime. In her markets were exposed for sale the products of the most widely separated countries of the globe. In her port, after the occupation of Almeria, whose mercantile supremacy was never restored, was centred the foreign commerce of Mohammedan Spain. The merchants of Fez and Alexandria, of Bassora and Teheran, mingled in her thoroughfares and markets with representatives of every nation of Christian Europe. The intimate relations of the city with Genoa had more than once called forth the indignant protests of Castile to the Papal Court and the government of Italy. The silk manufacture of Granada, the beauty and excellence of whose stuffs modern skill has never been able to equal, owed its marvellous development to the maritime facilities afforded by Malaga. The weaving of this delicate product, furnished in incredible quantities by the peasantry of the kingdom, was one of the most important branches of industry pursued in the city. The great buildings where it was carried on rivalled in extent the famous establishments of Almeria, once the centre of the silk manufacture in Europe. The superior quality and harmony of colors that characterized the tissues and brocades that came from the hands of the Malagan artificers gave them a peculiar value, and enabled them to readily command extravagant prices in foreign markets.

Not for the fabrication of silks alone was Malaga famous. Her glass and paper, her utensils of iron and copper, the complex and elegant labors of her cabinet-makers and joiners, enjoyed a wide and deserved celebrity. Here also were made the gilded pottery and the stamped and enamelled leather, the knowledge of both which processes completely disappeared with the dominion of the Spanish Arabs.

In the number and profusion of its agricultural products Malaga was excelled by no city in the temperate zone. Its location, like that of Granada, afforded every degree of temperature and every variety of climate. But it possessed in this respect many advantages over the capital. Lying further to the south its air was milder, and its breezes were tempered by its proximity to the sea. The greater volume of moisture in the atmosphere was more favorable to the labors of the cultivator of the soil, and insured greater fertility. Frost was unknown, and the sugar-cane and other exotics grew with a luxuriance almost tropical. The adjacent hills were not then denuded of vegetation, but covered with groves of olives, mulberries, and chestnuts. The elaborate system of hydraulics perfected by the Moors conducted everywhere the sparkling waters of the mountain streams. There was no fruit or vegetable at that time known to horticulture that was not grown in the vicinity. Ibn-Beithar, the most distinguished botanist of the Middle Ages, and who may be said to have been largely instrumental in the foundation of that science, was a native of the city. His knowledge of plants, obtained by years of travel and study in foreign lands, had enriched the flora of his country with many additions useful for their culinary or medicinal properties. Modern medicine owes much to Ibn-Beithar, who was also an eminent physician, for his valuable contributions to the pharmacopœia.

During the Moslem domination the view of Malaga from any point was most enchanting. From Velez to Fuengirola, a distance of more than forty miles, the coast exhibited an unbroken series of fig plantations. Farther back, covering the slopes of the sierra, were groves of oranges and pomegranates. The vineyards were the most extensive, and the grapes the most luscious, of Moorish Spain. Their vintage was of superior excellence, and no small portion of it was consumed by those whose religion condemned the use of wine as an unpardonable sin. The belt of frowning gray walls which enclosed the city was relieved by the palm-trees which at frequent intervals overtopped them. The mountains in the rear were enveloped in a haze of mingled tints of crimson, orange, and violet. On the southern horizon, the sapphire blue of a sky without a cloud blended almost imperceptibly with the deep ultramarine of the sea. Viewed at a distance, the white buildings with their red roofs nestling in a wilderness of verdure whose foliage displayed every tint of green, the harbor dotted with hundreds of snowy sails, the numerous mosques with their elegant towers encrusted with glittering tile-work, the palaces of the noble and the wealthy decorated with all the caprices of Moorish architecture, and each surrounded by spacious and shaded grounds, the boundless profusion of limpid and refreshing waters, bearing fertility to every garden and comfort to every household, the interminable plantations of every fruit that contributes to the sustenance and enjoyment of man, all presented a landscape whose counterpart probably did not exist in the most favored regions of the habitable world. The walls, which enclosed an area almost circular in form, were strengthened by a hundred and twelve towers. Far above the city on an isolated promontory stood the fortress of the Alcazaba, and the Gibralfaro, or citadel. The former was constructed on the slope of the declivity, and, though of great extent and massive defences, was still but an outwork of the Gibralfaro. The position of the latter was such as to bid defiance to any military engines or ordnance at the command of the captains of the fifteenth century. The steep and rugged escarpment of the cliff below it made successful assault impossible. It could not be mined. The angle at which the artillery of a besieging army must be trained was such as to render its fire ineffective. No means could therefore be successfully employed to reduce its garrison except starvation. The water-supply was obtained from numerous cisterns and from a remarkable well a hundred and forty feet in depth. Subterranean passages hewn through the living rock, whose existence was known to but few and which now survive only in well-authenticated tradition, connected the Alcazaba and the Gibralfaro with the city. These two castles were enclosed by walls of unusual height and solidity. No stronghold in Europe during the Middle Ages was better adapted to resist an enemy than the Gibralfaro,—its difficulty of access, its intricate approaches, and the prodigious strength of its fortifications rendering it practically impregnable.

The inhabitants of Malaga, notwithstanding their generally cosmopolitan character, prided themselves upon the purity of their Arab blood. The literary history of the time abounds in accounts of their intelligence, their wit, and their attachment to science and letters. Their charity and benevolence have been celebrated by every Moslem writer who has had occasion to examine their characteristics or to describe their virtues. The desperate and protracted defence they offered the army of Ferdinand is convincing evidence of their bravery and patriotism. But, on the other hand, they were impetuous to a fault, irascible, unrelenting, and treacherous, ever ready to take offence, ever slow to forgive, jealous to an extreme bordering on insanity, and anxious to settle the most trivial dispute by an appeal to arms. Every vice familiar to a prosperous and voluptuous community was practised at Malaga. The drunkenness of its inhabitants was so common as to be proverbial, and the fact that its occurrence aroused so little comment is indicative of the popular indulgence with which a custom abhorrent to the rules of the Koran was regarded. The integrity of the merchants was not beyond suspicion; their reputation was better for shrewdness than for honesty; and the remarkable cheapness of many of the commodities retailed by peddlers is said to have been due to the fact that they were stolen from the markets.

The capture of this great city was a matter of vital importance to the Castilian cause. Not only was it of paramount necessity, but the difficulties attending the project rendered it by no means certain of a favorable termination. An enterprise of such magnitude had never before been attempted by Ferdinand. The great population, its warlike spirit, the facility with which supplies might be introduced by sea, the enormous dimensions of the walls, were all important factors to be considered before the siege was undertaken. On the other hand, there were many conditions favorable to Christian success. Malaga was now practically isolated. The exhausting effects of domestic strife, the apathy and moral cowardice of Boabdil, the recent defeat of his uncle, the depressing influence of the repeated forays which had swept the Vega like a tempest, rendered hopeless any expectation of relief from the territory still under Moorish control. The commercial pursuits of the citizens for the most part rendered them averse to violence, and ready to make almost any sacrifice for the sake of peace. It was certain, however, that a stubborn resistance would be offered. The commandant of the garrison and governor of the city was the intrepid Hamet-al-Zegri, whose resolution and prowess were well known to every soldier in the Spanish army. His troops were largely composed of Gomeres and other African mercenaries, some of them survivors of former campaigns, but the majority new recruits from Mauritania who had succeeded in avoiding the cruisers of the blockading fleet. With such antagonists it was preposterous to indulge the hope of an easy or a bloodless victory. The extraordinary strength of the fortifications, which had hitherto defied attack, imparted to the Moors a plausible but fallacious confidence in their impregnability.

The Spaniards having broken camp at Velez, which was only eighteen miles from Malaga, advanced to a point within two leagues of that city, and the King, desirous of testing the disposition of his adversary, sent an embassy to Hamet-al-Zegri offering advantageous terms of capitulation. The Moslem general haughtily replied that the city had been intrusted to him to defend and not to surrender, and dismissed the royal messengers with scant courtesy. The vessels in which the ordnance and camp equipage had been placed for greater facility of transportation moved in a line parallel with the march of the troops on shore, and, thus advancing with equal speed, both arrived simultaneously at their destination. The approach of the enemy was met with the usual energy of the Moorish commander. The garrison was called to arms; detachments were sent out to occupy the neighboring hills; the highway through which the Christians must pass was ambushed by a force sufficient to impede their progress; and every house beyond the defences, which, through its proximity to them, might furnish shelter, was set on fire. On the side of Velez a path so narrow that the soldiers were compelled to march in single file offered the sole approach to the city; and, in its most rugged part, commanded by eminences on either side, the Moors, with every advantage of numbers, position, and familiarity with the ground, resolutely barred the way. The Christians, ignorant of the difficulties of the march, had suffered themselves to be entangled among the rocks and fairly surrounded before they realized their peril. The contracted passage prevented those in the rear from aiding their comrades; the elevated position of the Moors, who, from the summit of the hills, were enabled to fight with little danger to themselves and had the Christians at their mercy, gave them such superiority that they threatened for a time to seriously check the advance of the entire army. In another locality, below the Gibralfaro, a battle was raging. An attempt to force the Moorish lines and turn the flank of the detachment engaged below was fiercely contested. In the words of the ancient chronicler, the Moslems “fought so desperately that they seemed to have a greater desire to kill the Christians than to save their own lives.” They neither offered nor accepted quarter. The fate of such as fell into their hands was instant death. For six hours, without intermission, the combatants, inflamed with mutual hatred, discarding their missile weapons and relying on their swords, contended with equal spirit and obstinacy,—the Moors with the consciousness that their lives and liberties were at stake; the Castilians, animated by fanatical zeal, and fighting in the presence of their King. At length, after heavy losses, both positions were stormed and taken. The enemy retired, the invading force pursued its way without further molestation, and a thorough blockade of the port was at once established. Malaga, surrounded by a strongly intrenched line of circumvallation, and effectually deprived of all hope of relief, now prepared to face the privations and calamities of a protracted siege.

The permanent character of the blockading camps and the perfect military organization of the Spaniards, marked features of the closing operations of the Reconquest, became more and more conspicuous with the advance of the Christian power. A deep ditch protected the intrenchments, which were fortified by parapets and towers. The soldiers were sheltered by huts. In the rear of the lines were large workshops, where skilled mechanics repaired the cannon and the various engines of war. A gunpowder factory, which gave employment to three hundred men, was erected, and its dangerous product was stored for security in adjacent caves. Hundreds of artisans cast the balls destined for the ponderous lombards. There were twelve of these great pieces, of fourteen-inch calibre, and more than twelve feet long, from which were thrown projectiles weighing five hundred pounds. Such was their clumsy construction that their muzzles could neither be elevated nor depressed, and they could be discharged only eight times a day. A ship-load of stone balls was transported from Algeziras, where they had been fired from the ordnance of Alfonso XI. during the siege of that city, one hundred and forty-three years before. The Spanish army, composed of nearly seventy thousand men, was supported by numerous vessels of every description, many of them armed with guns of medium calibre. When the batteries were mounted, a terrible bombardment of the city began by sea and land. The minarets, the domes, the houses, the towers, crumbled under the incessant cannonade. The city was ablaze in many places from fire-balls shot from the ballistas. The highways and pleasure-grounds were strewed with the dying and the dead. Many of the inhabitants were overwhelmed by the ruins of their fallen dwellings. The martial splendor of the spectacle excited the admiration of the chroniclers who witnessed it. They allude with unconcealed pride to the picturesque beauty of the landscape, soon to be marred by the cruel hand of war; to the formidable entrenchments guarded by many towers, to the fleet encircling the capacious harbor, to the innumerable tents covering the slopes of every hillside and following the winding lines of circumvallation, to the magnificent silken standards displaying the familiar arms of Castile and Leon, or emblazoned with the insignia of the proudest houses of the kingdom. Behind all this pomp was an unflinching energy, a confidence of ultimate success, which awed and discouraged the besieged. The calm deliberation, denoting an absolute tenacity of purpose, which characterized the first steps of the enemy augured ill for the people of Malaga, now cut off from the world.

But, in many respects, they might well be hopeful of a favorable result. Their means of resistance were the most formidable which the Christians had yet encountered. Their citadel had been pronounced by the most competent military engineers to be impregnable. Their provisions were abundant, the munitions of war, stored in their magazines and arsenals, inexhaustible. Their batteries were mounted with cannon but little inferior in weight and equal in range to those of the Spaniards; the artillerists who served them were among the most skilful marksmen of the age. The garrison of the city was numerous and well equipped; the governor, a veteran grown gray in a score of wars. Every circumstance contributed to animate the Moors to a desperate resistance. Should the invader be repelled, it would restore the lost prestige of the Moorish name. Defeat meant the infliction of every injury that could be devised by fanaticism and hatred. It was well known in Malaga that the agents of the Inquisition, while not yet officially recognized, were present with the army, and were treated with marked distinction by the Spanish court. The duplicity of Ferdinand, the blind bigotry of Isabella, although masked by a plausible appearance of candor and equity, had not escaped the observation of the keen-witted Moslems. A vague horror, intensified by past misfortune and by the apprehension of future calamity and associated with that awful tribunal whose atrocities were soon to fill the land with mourning, pervaded every Mussulman community. The possession of these advantages and the anticipation of future evils were sufficient to stimulate the Malagans to the highest exertion of courage and endurance. But unfortunately there existed among them a party largely composed of wealthy merchants to whom every patriotic consideration was subservient to the enjoyment of momentary quiet and safety. It was headed by Ali Dordux, a citizen of immense wealth, distinguished lineage, and unimpeachable integrity. Related to the royal house of Granada, he enjoyed, from this connection, from the consideration attaching to his great possessions, and from the munificence and charity with which he contributed to public enterprises and relieved private misfortune, the highest confidence and respect of his countrymen.

Through his mediation, an attempt had already been made to deliver the city to the Christians, and thereby escape the dreadful consequences of a siege. The commander of the Alcazaba, Ibn-Comixa, had been a party to this transaction, which, discountenanced in the beginning by Hamet-al-Zegri, had afterwards been conducted with secrecy. These proceedings having been communicated to Hamet by spies, he issued from the Gibralfaro with his guards, and put to death the brother of Ibn-Comixa and all others implicated with him in these treasonable designs wherever they could be apprehended. Henceforth absolute master of the city, the terror of his name and the fatal example of those who had rashly endeavored to defy his authority, while they might not entirely prevent, yet would probably render futile, any future negotiations looking to a clandestine and unauthorized capitulation.

The investment of the city had not been accomplished without a constant succession of skirmishes, in which, although the besiegers uniformly had the advantage, they not infrequently sustained serious loss. The Moorish artillerists kept up an incessant fire, and their aim was so accurate that portions of the Christian line were forced back for a distance of several hundred yards before it could be permanently established. Especially were their efforts directed against the royal pavilion, which occupied a conspicuous position, and the plunging balls of the lombards passing in dangerous proximity made it necessary to remove the quarters of the King. As the suburbs of Malaga covered an extensive area, had formerly sheltered a numerous population, and were protected by defences not inferior to those of the city itself, their speedy occupation became a matter of great moment to Ferdinand. While larger, they presented the same general characteristics as similar localities in the neighborhood of other cities of Moorish Spain. An uneven line of massive towers, walls, and barbicans crowned with battlements; a labyrinth of tortuous lanes shaded by hedges of myrtle and laurel; in one quarter the stately villas of the rich, in another the crowded hovels of squalid poverty; orchards of fragrant tropical fruits; pastures where hundreds of cattle might graze in security; mysterious passages, obscured by overhanging vegetation, through which a squadron could burst unseen and unexpected upon an unwary outpost,—such were the features of the environs of Malaga. As much injury had already been suffered from sallying parties which issued from the depths of the dark and silent groves, it was determined that this dangerous ground should be cleared and occupied without delay. A tower of unusual dimensions defending the salient angle of the largest of these enclosures, and which was seen to be the key of the position, was designated as the point of attack. The command of the Count of Cifuentes was selected for this perilous duty. The Castilians rushing forward applied their scaling-ladders, but the enemy, fully prepared, met them with a destructive fire, and, by means of bundles of burning flax steeped in pitch and naphtha, destroyed the ladders and many soldiers who had ventured to ascend them. Through successive arrivals of reinforcements on both sides the engagement began to assume the character of a battle, whose result for a time promised to be indecisive; but after a day and a night of desperate fighting the Christians prevailed, and the Moors, dislodged from the tower, took up a position within the walls. Their cannon in turn now played upon the tower, the upper portion of which was soon destroyed, and, having succeeded in mining the foundations, it was blown up, carrying to death several hundred Spaniards, whose valor in the face of imminent peril had so recently effected its capture. This dearly purchased victory was followed by the occupation of the larger suburb, but not until a considerable force of infantry had been decoyed by Moorish cunning into a maze of crooked lanes, where, bewildered by the surroundings and encompassed by superior numbers, they were mercilessly slaughtered. In the ground still retained by the Moslems the trees were cut down, palisades strengthened by ditches were erected, and thus doubly entrenched the attacks of the subtle and ferocious enemy kept the camp of the besiegers in a condition of continual excitement and alarm. The determined resistance with which the slow advance of the Christians was encountered, causing every foot of territory won to be drenched with blood, the dread of the pestilence, which had already appeared in dangerous proximity to the camp, and the rumor, persistently circulated, that the Queen was urging the abandonment of the siege, began to produce great discontent throughout the Spanish ranks. Aware of this feeling and prompt to take advantage of it, the Moors redoubled their efforts. The guards and patrols were increased. Skirmishes became more frequent and bloody. Boats armed with light pieces of artillery were sent out at night to harass the vessels of the blockading fleet. The garrison was organized into companies, to which was assigned in turn the performance of regular duties of patrol, attack, relief; and discipline was enforced among the usually insubordinate Moslems with an impartiality and a rigor heretofore unknown. All communication with the enemy was forbidden by proclamation, and the very mention of surrender, even among the citizens, incurred the penalty of death. The Moors relied, however, not so much upon their training and resolution as upon the evils which, at all times and especially in that age, were liable to hamper the tedious and laborious operations of a besieging army. The rainy season was approaching, when the mountain streams, swollen to the dimensions of torrents, swept away everything in their course, and the sudden tempests rendered the harbor, always insecure, almost untenable for shipping. The exposure of the camp was certain to induce disease and might invite a visitation of the plague, while the physical disadvantages incident to the situation would probably be magnified by the fears and the discontent of a large body of men subjected to daily inconvenience and condemned to inglorious inaction. A reign of terror had been inaugurated in Malaga by the savage measures adopted by Hamet-al-Zegri, who had executed without examination or warning several prominent citizens whose former conduct had rendered their loyalty suspicious, and, as a result of this severity, to all outward appearances, the inhabitants were at last heartily united in the public defence. An atmosphere of distrust and apprehension, however, enveloped the community; no man dared to publicly address his friend; the denunciation of a prominent personage to the authorities was followed by his immediate execution; and the merchants, whose wealth, influence, and pacific inclinations made them obnoxious to the ferocious soldiery, exposed on the one side to the violence of the garrison, menaced on the other by the prospect of enslavement and of financial and domestic ruin, were driven by their forebodings into the apathy of despair. In order to counteract the feeling of confidence with which the false rumor of the Queen’s disapproval of the siege inspired the enemy, a request was now made urging her to repair to the camp.

The arrival of Isabella was marked by all the pomp of a royal reception, and her presence at the post of danger brought to the front many cavaliers not liable to military service, but actuated by the chivalrous spirit so prominent in the Castilian, and who, in this instance, combined the hope of military distinction with that ardent devotion to the sex always regarded as one of the noblest and most meritorious attributes of knighthood. The occasion seemed an advantageous one for the renewal of negotiations, and fresh overtures were made to the citizens of Malaga, but no reply was vouchsafed to the messengers, and they returned without having obtained an audience with the authorities. Foiled in this attempt and encouraged by the counsels of the Queen, Ferdinand pushed the approaches with increased energy. The entrenchments were moved into the suburbs, and often within a stone’s throw of the walls. An attack was made upon the castle, which resulted in the repulse and wounding of the Marquis of Cadiz. Vessels were sent to Barcelona, Valencia, Lisbon, and Palermo for powder. Hundreds of mechanics were employed in the construction of military engines,—ladders like masts, raised on sliding platforms, mangonels, battering-rams, movable towers, and mantelets. The wood required for this purpose was obtained from the orchards and groves of the vicinity. Mines were secretly opened at four different points, and in each of these hundreds of men labored constantly day and night. The appearance of the Queen, who was accompanied by the dignitaries and ladies of the court, infused fresh courage into the faltering ranks of the disheartened soldiery. The intrepid defence of the Moors had exceeded the anticipation of the Spaniards, who, encouraged by the remembrance of former triumphs, expected a rapid if sharply contested conquest. Instead of this, after three weeks, each day of which was marked by a series of sanguinary combats, no substantial progress had been made. The trifling advantages gained had been purchased at the expense of many lives; the success of the day was certain to be counteracted by the repulse of the morrow; when a wall was demolished, a new line was formed, composed of ditches and palisades, and defended by troops whose tireless efforts and apparently exhaustless resources seemed to bid defiance to every artifice of military experience and engineering skill. The discouraging prospect of the campaign, and the gradual spread of the pestilence in the neighborhood, caused numerous desertions and much consequent demoralization. Some soldiers returned to their homes; others, renouncing the further prosecution of an enterprise which they considered impracticable, sought the insidious friendship and uncertain rewards of the Moslems of Malaga. To insure their welcome, they sedulously magnified the distress of the comrades whom they had thus dishonorably abandoned,—alleging the shortness of rations, the want of powder, the number of deserters, the universal discontent which they declared even the exhortations and promises of the King had failed to appease. The effect of these representations soon became evident. The Moslems, encouraged to continue steadfast, maintained the contest with renewed obstinacy, and the attention of the Christians was occupied in guarding their lines, liable at any moment of the day or night to be broken by an assault from some remote and unexpected quarter. A cloud of smoke hung over the city and the camp, lighted at frequent intervals by the flashes of the cannon whose dull roar was occasionally followed by the crash of falling buildings, the cheers of the artillerists, and the cries of the wounded. The inflexible resolution and inspiring example of Hamet-al-Zegri, whose heroism was so tarnished by remorseless cruelty, sustained the defence of Malaga amidst the most frightful privation and suffering. The difficulty of supporting a great multitude of non-combatants under such circumstances increased day by day. All the provisions that could be found were unceremoniously seized for the benefit of the garrison. Whenever it was ascertained that some unfortunate citizen had secreted food for the maintenance of his family, all of the inmates of the house were at once put to the sword. The Jews, the especial objects of official tyranny, were inhumanly and maliciously deprived of the necessities of life, and the poorest and most helpless of this persecuted race perished by hundreds of starvation. In the extremity of famine the most loathsome and innutritious substances were eagerly devoured. Not an animal of any kind was left alive in the city; and many persons reared in abundance and luxury were forced to blunt the pangs of hunger with the leather of saddles, the stalks of cabbage, and the leaves of trees long since stripped of their fruit and blossoms. Rendered desperate by distress and by the enforced military duty for which they had been impressed by the governor, who took a grim satisfaction in assigning to the most perilous stations those who had least experience in the operations of war, a number of merchants, including Ali Dordux, again opened communications with the enemy. Their designs miscarried, for their messenger while returning from the Spanish camp was intercepted by a patrol, and, in trying to escape, fell pierced with a cross-bow bolt.

The extremity of their countrymen who so resolutely held their ground against the united resources of Castile and Aragon excited the compassion and applause of every patriotic Moslem in the kingdom. There were many in the capital who would have gladly volunteered to go to their assistance, but the known hostility of Boabdil repressed the public exhibition of the general feeling. With the sanction of Al-Zagal a band of picked warriors set out from Guadix to endeavor to cut their way into Malaga. Information of the expedition was communicated to Boabdil by spies, and an ambush was planned for the party by a squadron of Moorish cavalry from Granada. The unfortunate adventurers, unsuspicious of treachery, were surprised on the march, and less than half of them succeeded in escaping to Guadix. For this infamous service, so thoroughly in keeping with his character, Boabdil received the congratulations of the politic Ferdinand, who viewed with inward complacency the effects of the fatal policy of his enemies who were unconsciously fighting his battles, and were destined eventually to realize the futility of their efforts to maintain even a tributary existence in the face of adversaries prepared to renounce every consideration of honor and justice, to violate every covenant, to repudiate every suggestion of humanity and pity, in the final accomplishment of an object, pursued with unshaken tenacity, through the vicissitudes, the triumphs, and the reverses of twenty-five generations.

Despite the fact that famine threatened the garrison and was already decimating the non-combatants, the Moors never relaxed their efforts. Great trenches were excavated outside the walls at points where the cannon had effected breaches. The mines opened by the besiegers had in many instances reached the fortifications, when they were detected, countermined, and rendered worthless. One of them was blown up and destroyed after a bloody subterranean combat. This success was not obtained without the greatest difficulty, and only after six days of incessant fighting. Little by little every prospect of relief was removed from the minds of the despairing garrison. The Emir of Tlemcen, whose coast was constantly patrolled by armed galleys, and who recognized the hopelessness of the struggle, sent an embassy to the Catholic sovereigns, soliciting their friendship and imploring that the commercial restrictions imposed upon his subjects by the maintenance of the blockade might be removed. Magnificent presents of horses, trappings, and garments, silks, gold, and perfumes accompanied his request. The offer was graciously accepted; the naval commanders were instructed to treat their new allies with due consideration; but at the same time a vigilant watch was kept up to prevent any supplies of men or provisions from being clandestinely introduced into the devoted city. The sympathy of the Moslems throughout the kingdom, awakened by the heroism of the Malagans, increasing with the duration of the siege, found expression not only in lamentations, but in the execration of Boabdil, whose agency was recognized as principally responsible for the sufferings of his valiant countrymen.

In the mountains of Guadix there lived a certain Ibrahim-al-Guerbi, a santon, or hermit of African origin, whose uncouth appearance, emaciated form, and reputed sanctity had obtained for him the superstitious veneration with which the ignorant are accustomed to invest those whose lives are passed in localities apart from the abodes of men, and whose extravagant claims to superior holiness are supposed to be confirmed by habitual austerity and the frenzy born of incessant meditation and long-continued abstinence. His progress through the streets of Guadix was always attended by an immense multitude of admirers, who, regarding him as inspired and in frequent communication with the Prophet, listened to his ravings with a reverence equal to that with which they would have received a command of God. Calling the people together, this fanatic proclaimed in the market-place of the city that Allah, moved by the wretchedness of his faithful worshippers, had decreed that Malaga should be delivered from her extremity, and that he himself had been appointed as the instrument to carry the divine will into execution. The credulous populace heard this announcement with boundless enthusiasm; at the call for volunteers a great number of soldiers and citizens responded; and from these the santon selected a band of four hundred, most of them Africans, and all ready to sacrifice their lives in any desperate undertaking which might bring them glory on earth or secure their entrance into Paradise. Leaving the city secretly, the party, avoiding the frequented roads, hastened through the mountain wilds to Malaga. In the early morning they made a sudden charge on the Spanish lines near the sea; two hundred succeeded in cutting their way into the city, and the others remained dead or captive in front of the intrenchments. During the attack the santon withdrew to a retired spot near at hand, where, on his knees and with uplifted face and hands, he assumed an attitude of devotion. Discovered by the patrol, he maintained a dogged silence until taken before the Marquis of Cadiz, to whom he announced his calling and declared his ability to foretell coming events through revelations from the Almighty. The Marquis, who like all of his countrymen was not a little superstitious and disposed to give credit to the pretension of a religious charlatan even if he came in the guise of an enemy, asked if he knew when and how the city would be taken. The santon answered in the affirmative, but declared that he would only impart this information to the King and Queen, unattended and in secret. Thereupon the Marquis inquired the pleasure of the sovereigns, who ordered the Moor to be brought before them; and, in the same condition in which he was captured, clothed with a ragged cloak, and armed with a short but heavy scimetar, he was at once conducted to the royal pavilion. Fortunately Ferdinand was asleep and Isabella employed in some feminine occupation when the guard arrived with the santon, who was taken into an adjoining tent, where Don Alvaro of Portugal, of the royal House of Braganza, and Doña Beatrice de Bobadilla, Marchioness of Moya, the intimate friend of the Queen, were engaged in a game of chess. The Moor, to whom the persons of the Catholic sovereigns were unknown, supposing, as a matter of course, that the couple before him, whose splendid apparel denoted personages of the highest distinction, were the objects of his nefarious design, drew his scimetar and inflicted a dangerous wound on Don Alvaro. He then aimed several blows at the Marchioness, who had fallen to the ground in terror, but his weapon striking the canvas of the tent each time he raised it disconcerted his aim, and his intended victim escaped injury. The savage fanatic was instantly killed by the soldiers, and his mutilated remains cast over the walls from a catapult. Collected reverently by the Moslems, they were sewed together, dressed in silken robes, and, after being sprinkled with the costliest perfumes, were buried with all the honors due to a martyr who had sacrificed his life in a bold if a reprehensible and fruitless attempt to render a service to his country. In reprisal, a Galician captive of rank was killed and tied upon an ass, which was driven into the Christian lines, an act as impolitic as cruel, for it only served to further exasperate the besiegers, already rendered sufficiently implacable by their losses, their hardships, and the unexpected severity of the labors imposed upon them by the desperate resistance of the enemy.

While famine and suffering daily increased within the walls of Malaga, the condition of the Spaniards, for a time discouraging, was now steadily improving. Many nobles from Valencia and Catalonia, desirous of serving under their monarchs and provided with substantial aid in men and money, repaired to the camp. The Duke of Medina-Sidonia, with his son and a great following of retainers, brought the influence of his name and presence and, what was even more acceptable, the tender of twenty thousand doubloons of gold. By these means the army, originally consisting of seventy thousand men, was considerably augmented. The magazines were replenished. Vast heaps of grain were tantalizingly exposed to the view of the starving Moslems. New recruits were enlisted. Great stores of ammunition were collected, and the increased enthusiasm and renewed fury of the assaults apprised the besieged that only some crushing reverse could overcome the inflexible determination of their foes.

Scarcely a day now passed that a number of the citizens of Malaga did not enter the Christian camp, forfeiting their liberty to escape death by starvation. Reduced to skeletons and staggering with weakness, they devoured with the ravenous appetite of famine the food that was given them, exciting by their deplorable condition the compassion even of their unfeeling conquerors. The accounts they gave of the straits to which their brethren were reduced convinced the Spaniards that the struggle could not much longer be maintained. The streets were covered with decomposing corpses. Those wounded in battle and the perishing victims of hunger lay side by side, both helpless and uncared for. The terrible Gomeres, restricted to quarter-rations, and rendered still more savage by suffering and by daily familiarity with carnage, stalked unquestioned through every house, enforcing their demands for food with threats whose bloody significance the slightest inattention was quick to realize. Most pitiable was the state of the women and children, many of them left unprotected by the fortune of war, without the means of sustaining life, exposed to hourly danger, oppressed by the sad remembrance of their losses, with no prospect save death or the even more unhappy one of perpetual servitude. The Castilians listened to these statements with incredulity, for it seemed impossible that under such trials the spirit of the Moslems could remain unbroken and undismayed. The assaults on the trenches continued. The ships of the fleet were attacked and some of them destroyed. The hopes of the besieged were sustained by the assurances of ultimate victory proclaimed by another fanatic, who, in spite of the failure of his predecessor, found it easy to obtain among his credulous countrymen implicit belief in his extravagant promises. Under his advice, six strong battalions attacked simultaneously the Spanish intrenchments held by the commands of the Grand Masters of Alcantara and Santiago. The Christians, although habitually on their guard, were surprised and driven back; but the success of the Moslems was but temporary; a determined effort sufficed to repulse them, and after losing many men they retired in disorder.

This engagement was the crisis of the siege. The garrison was no longer able to man the fortifications, fast crumbling under the enemy’s guns. Of five thousand picked men that originally composed it, three-fifths had been killed and wounded, and the remainder were greatly weakened by disease and privation. The lamentations of the starving, and the remonstrances of those citizens whose personal interests had always inclined them to peace, now became too importunate to longer remain unheeded. The indomitable Hamet-al-Zegri and his guards sullenly betook themselves to the Gibralfaro. Five prominent merchants, empowered by the people to sue for peace, were sent to the head-quarters of the King. Their proposal to yield on substantially the same terms which had been granted other conquered cities was rejected with haughty disdain, and they were informed that nothing short of an agreement involving the unconditional surrender of their persons and property would be entertained. In despair the envoys returned; the citizens consented to abandon everything provided their liberty was assured; and, if this should still be denied, they threatened to hang from the battlements every Christian captive in their power, and, having placed the women and children in the Alcazaba, to set fire to the city, and then, sallying forth, sell their lives dearly in battle with their unrelenting foes. To this menace Ferdinand replied that if a single captive was killed he would put every Moor in Malaga to death, and that no other terms would be given except those already communicated to their messengers. The desperate circumstances of the besieged allowed them no alternative but absolute submission to the will of the conqueror, and after much altercation they signified their consent to surrender without conditions. Hostages were given to secure their fidelity; the victorious army marched into the city; all of the inhabitants were compelled to assemble in the Alcazaba, there to await the pleasure of the King; the brave Hamet-al-Zegri was placed in irons and sold in the slave-market of Carmona; the Christian deserters, whose information had been instrumental in confirming the obstinacy of the Moors, were put to death by torture; the streets were cleansed of impurities; and in the great mosque, consecrated to Christianity amidst the imposing forms of the Catholic ritual, mass was said in gratitude for the prosperous event of an enterprise which, in difficulty, in duration, and in the intrepidity and fertility of resource exhibited by the enemy, was without parallel in the history of the Reconquest. Five hundred captives, whose survival proved that they had been better cared for than many of their masters, came in solemn procession to return thanks for their deliverance. Not a few of them, who had long abandoned all hope of liberty, had been enslaved for twenty years. Many villages near Malaga were occupied by the Spanish troops, and their inhabitants were confined with their countrymen for future disposition in the spacious enclosure of the citadel.

In deciding the fate of the people of Malaga, the remarkable constancy and heroism which they had displayed in defence of their homes—qualities that must have awakened the admiration and respect of every mind susceptible to the sentiments of generosity and pity—were not taken into consideration by Ferdinand and Isabella, except to the prejudice of the victims. In accordance with mediæval custom the vanquished were absolutely at the mercy of the conquerors. By a refinement of political casuistry they were also branded as rebels. The grounds for this accusation are now difficult to determine. The Moslems of Malaga were, and always had been, the subjects of Al-Zagal, the uncompromising enemy of the Christians, and, by the most ingenious and far-fetched application of Castilian law or feudal practice, could never have been included among the dependents or tributaries of the Spanish Crown. It is probable that the claim may have been founded on the suzerainty exercised by former kings, and acknowledged by the princes of Granada as a political necessity, but never conceded as an inalienable right. Exasperation caused by prolonged resistance, and the conviction that a severe example might deter other cities from opposing the march of Spanish sovereignty, induced certain persons attached to the court and army, concerning whose names history is silent, to urge with vehemence an indiscriminate massacre of the prisoners,—a proposal which, fortunately for the reputation of the victors, through considerations of public expediency, if not from sentiments of humanity, they were induced to reject. The royal decree, published by sound of trumpet, condemned every Moor to slavery for life. The severity of this sentence was, however, modified by a provision which, while it apparently held out a prospect of relief, yet, so far from abating its rigor, was in fact designed to intensify it by the infliction of bitter disappointment. Malaga was one of the most opulent cities of the Mediterranean. Her merchants had amassed great fortunes by commerce, and their personal property, so valuable and so likely to be concealed in the face of endless servitude, was a prize not to be lightly relinquished by Spanish rapacity. The priceless jewels worn by the Moorish women in rich and barbaric profusion were famous throughout Granada, and reports of their value and beauty had spread to the Castilian court. Rumors were already in circulation that the most of these treasures had disappeared. The crafty dissimulation of the Christian sovereigns readily devised an expedient to recover this wealth. By royal proclamation it was announced that the entire number of Moors could be delivered from slavery on the payment within eight months of a sum amounting to thirty doubloons of gold for each man, woman, and child. This, however, was only applicable collectively. No individual could offer a separate ransom; and no death within the allotted time was to be taken into consideration,—all were to be redeemed alike and together, whether living or dead. It was an indispensable condition of this extraordinary grant of indulgence that the entire personal property of the people of Malaga should be at once transferred to the officers of the treasury, to be credited on account. The Moors, without calculating the enormous sum required to ransom such a multitude or reflecting upon the numerous pretexts by which an agreement made with a perfidious conqueror might be repudiated, eagerly grasped at the tempting but fallacious prospect of freedom.

As the entire number of the citizens and garrison was not far from eleven thousand, it required three hundred and thirty thousand doubloons, equal to twenty-one million one hundred and twenty thousand dollars at the present estimate of values, to effect their deliverance. Every encouragement was at once extended the captives to unearth their hidden treasures. Conducted to their houses, they brought forth from the depths of wells and cisterns, from excavations in the gardens, from concealed vaults and secret receptacles, from fountains and walled-up niches, gold and silver ornaments, jewels, coin, and plate, and every conceivable species of portable riches. A list of all the owners was made, together with an inventory and appraisement of their property, which we may rest assured was not valued at an extravagant figure. History does not inform us of the amount secured or of the deficit. As the ransom of a captive is one of the most meritorious acts of a Moslem, and one explicitly enjoined by his religion, the Malagans expected that their fellow-sectaries would readily contribute the remaining sum required for their liberty. In this they were sadly disappointed; the subjects of Boabdil refused to compromise themselves by assisting the enemies of Ferdinand, and by order of their king the letters and petitions were intercepted and sent to the Spanish court. The partisans of Al-Zagal, impoverished through contributions demanded by the exigencies of war and disheartened by defeat, were unable to respond to the pressing importunities of their brethren, harassed by the memory of recent distress and menaced by the most deplorable of human calamities. The charity of the Moslems hence fell far short of the demands which the necessities of their countrymen exacted. Although even the inhabitants of Morocco and Tlemcen—whom recently established relations with the Spanish Crown may have unfavorably influenced—were appealed to, it was found impossible to collect the required amount.

The Moorish prisoners were divided into three classes,—one destined to be exchanged for Christians detained in captivity in Africa; the second to be distributed as spoil among the most eminent personages in the army according to rank or merit; and the third to be sold at auction for the benefit of the treasury, to partially defray the expenses of the siege. As an acknowledgment of the aid his endorsement had afforded a war waged in the name of religion, and to get rid of captives whose reputation and character indicated they might prove troublesome, a hundred of the most ferocious Gomeres were presented to the Pope. Fifty of the most comely Moslem damsels were given to the Queen of Naples. Thirty others became the slaves of the Queen of Portugal. Isabella also distributed a large number of these attractive maidens among the ladies of the court, and several of them were retained for her own service in the palace.

Those prominent citizens who had vainly attempted at different times to procure the surrender of Malaga were suffered to retain their property and enjoy their freedom in the condition of tributaries. Ali-Dordux as a recompense for his peculiar services received twenty houses, with many valuable lands and villas, and was appointed alcalde of the Mudejares. The surviving Jews of the city, amounting in all to four hundred and fifty persons, the majority of them women, were ransomed by Abraham Señor, a rich Hebrew, collector for the royal treasury of the Jewish tribute of Castile. Their chattels were received and accounted for in part payment of their ransom, which was twenty thousand doubloons of gold.

Thus ends the mournful story of the capture of Malaga. No similar event in history exhibits in a more striking manner the heroism of the conquered and the perfidy and malevolence of the conquerors. Human valor and self-sacrifice under the most discouraging circumstances could not accomplish more than was effected by the Moslems. No greater disregard for those virtues which appeal most strongly to the human heart—loyalty, patriotism, intrepidity, firmness—or for those sufferings which arouse the chivalrous sympathy of the brave could be shown than was displayed by the triumphant Christians. The honorable terms ever accorded by a magnanimous victor to a courageous but unfortunate foe were insolently refused. The enslavement of an entire community, while not repugnant to the barbarous customs of mediæval warfare, was unusual, and was certainly unmerited by those whose only crime was a resolute defence of home and country. The infamy of the scheme through which they were deluded by false hopes of deliverance from servitude, and, at the same time, despoiled of their possessions, is deserving of the severest reprobation. It was well known to Ferdinand, who fixed the amount and whose influence was no doubt employed in counteracting the efforts of the emissaries of the captives, that the exorbitant ransom could never be paid. Even if the obligation had been discharged, there is little doubt, in view of the subsequent course pursued by the Spanish Crown in similar transactions, that the result would have been the same. The spirit which did not reject with indignation, but could calmly discuss, the deliberate massacre of eleven thousand defenceless persons as a matter of public convenience, would hardly refuse to repudiate a contract when its violation was sanctioned by the plausible and popular suggestions of sacerdotal casuistry. The part taken by the Queen in this disreputable transaction, more characteristic of the arts of a pettifogger than of the justice of a high-minded sovereign, is incapable of excuse or palliation even by the artifices of the most fulsome apologist. Her responsibility was equal to that of her husband. She was fully cognizant of the entire negotiation. A single word from her would have arrested it, but that word was not spoken. Unfortunately for her fame, on this as on many other occasions, she seems to have sacrificed the noblest attributes of her sex to considerations of momentary advantage and spurious morality at the dictation of malignant and intriguing ecclesiastics, whose power as keepers of the royal conscience and whose insidious counsels had already begun to exert a marked and most pernicious influence on the policy of the crown.

In the midst of their reverses the infuriated temper of the Moors of the capital and the consequent insecurity of the throne of Boabdil had become daily more apparent. His frantic appeals for assistance were answered by the despatch of Gonsalvo de Cordova with three thousand men, whose presence awed the malcontents and confirmed for a time the falling power of a monarch whose selfish and short-sighted measures continued to afford the most substantial aid to the enemies of his country. As a recompense for his invaluable services, the subjects of Boabdil passed their lives in comparative peace; their labors were uninterrupted; their harvests ripened and were gathered in security; and their merchants, transporting their wares beyond the frontier, carried on a profitable trade with the cities of Andalusia and Castile. The boundaries of the royal vassal’s domain, constantly growing more narrow through the vicissitudes of revolution, the encroachments of perfidious allies, and the ravages of war, could now be discerned from the battlements of the Alhambra. His name, loaded with the most insulting epithets, was openly cursed in the streets. By a cruel stratagem, worthy of his Christian patron, he suppressed a spirit of rebellion which daily threatened a serious outbreak. Five of the most influential agitators were invited to a conference in the palace. Relying upon the royal word and unsuspicious of treachery they repaired to the Alhambra. Seized and manacled, they were at once delivered to an equal number of executioners, decapitated, and their heads, fixed on pikes, were borne through the city, preceded by a crier, as a suggestive warning to the disaffected. To such atrocious methods was this petty tyrant compelled to resort in order to maintain the existence of his uncertain and tottering authority. While they were temporarily successful, they in fact still further weakened a power based exclusively upon fear. All persons of wealth and consequence who could do so secretly departed from the capital, and the populace, suppressing the grief and indignation they felt on account of the execution of their leaders, awaited impatiently the moment of vengeance. On the other hand, the tireless and impetuous Al-Zagal, taking advantage of the opportunity afforded by the retirement of the Christians, carried ruin and dismay beyond the frontier. The garrison of Nijar was massacred. Cullar was taken and burnt. From Almeria and the towns of its jurisdiction predatory expeditions swept the fertile valleys of Murcia. In the Serrania of Ronda and the Sierra Bermeja the mountaineers revolted, visited with their destructive forays the plains of Andalusia, and repulsed an attack of the Marquis of Cadiz, whose operations were soon afterwards suspended on account of a succession of tornadoes and earthquakes.

Meanwhile, the Spanish King had not been idle. Entering the dominions of Al-Zagal from the side of Murcia,—a territory hitherto remote from the seat of war and consequently exempt from its ravages,—he had brought into subjection a large and important region, together with the towns of Vera, Cuevas, Huescar, and many others, which, at the appearance of the army, surrendered without resistance. Encouraged by his success, he next appeared before Almeria. Unfortunately for his plans, concerted with Moslem traitors in the city who had arranged to betray their trust to the Christians, Al-Zagal had learned of this design, had foiled it with his usual energy, and at that moment the heads of the conspirators were fixed on the battlements of the castle. The force of the Moorish King, which numbered twenty-one thousand, attacked the advance guard of the enemy with irresistible fury, defeated it, and compelled the whole army to retreat. Ferdinand retired towards Baza, closely followed by Al-Zagal. Near that city the Moslem veteran placed an ambush, into which he had no difficulty in decoying the Spaniards. The advance guard was again routed, this time with serious loss, and it required all the efforts of the King and his ablest captains to save the army from destruction. Among the dead was Don Philip of Aragon, nephew of Ferdinand, and many other distinguished officers. The march of the Christians was severely harassed by the enemy’s cavalry as far as the river Guadalquiton, a distance of twenty miles.

In the month of May, 1489, Ferdinand once more invaded the Moorish kingdom with the design of besieging Baza. His plans were well known to Al-Zagal months before they were put into execution, and every possible expedient was employed to counteract them. The entire country was scoured for provisions. The magazines of the city were filled with grain. Its arsenal was stocked with weapons. A stirring appeal from their sovereign summoned to the defence of Baza the veterans of many a hard-fought field, bold mountaineers of the Alpujarras, desperate adventurers who had lost home and kindred by the casualties of war, and hundreds of the gallant cavaliers of Granada, who, weary of inaction, disgusted with their prince, and dreading the imputation of cowardice, were eager to once more draw their swords in the cause of their country and their religion.

The command of Baza was intrusted to Sidi Yahya, one of the ablest and most conspicuous examples of Moslem chivalry produced by the wars of the Reconquest. Of royal lineage and distinguished connections,—for he was at once the nephew and the brother-in-law of Al-Zagal as well as the hereditary prince of Almeria,—he had early exhibited talents for war and diplomacy far beyond his years. A division of ten thousand cavalry organized, equipped, and disciplined by him had attained the highest state of efficiency possible in the rapid evolutions and crafty stratagems which constituted the favorite tactics of Arab warfare. In addition to this force, which in perfection of organization and drill had no equal in the Moorish or Christian armies, Sidi Yahya had at his disposal an equal number of well-armed troops, commanded by experienced generals who had seen service under Al-Zagal and Muley Hassan. The garrison of Baza consisted of ten thousand men, most of them selected for their valor and fidelity from the flower of the Moorish army, and the rest, animated by the memory of past injuries and eager for retaliation, made up in ferocity what they lacked in experience and discipline. In the arrangements for defence everything had been taken into consideration which could either annoy an enemy or deprive him of even the slightest advantage. The suburbs, by which Baza in common with most Andalusian cities was surrounded, were evacuated. The ripened crops were gathered and transported inside the walls. The trees were stripped of their fruits. New passages were opened in the suburban labyrinth of lanes and alleys to facilitate the movements of the garrison and perplex the enemy, who, under similar circumstances, had more than once encountered disaster. The well-fortified city of Baza was of high antiquity, and had been a place of importance even under the Carthaginian domination. It occupied the slope of a lofty hill forming a spur of the sierra, was surrounded by walls of great solidity, and defended by a castle of remarkable strength. Its environs were occupied by groves and gardens, intersected by pathways arched with verdure and bordered by hedges. A fertile valley thirty-two miles long by twelve in width, irrigated by canals, and producing a succession of harvests, displayed at every point evidences of the highest degree of industry. Amidst its luxuriant plantations appeared the white walls of numerous palaces and country-seats, inhabited or frequented by the prominent residents of the city. From the ramparts of the castle more than a thousand towers, distributed over the valley, could be counted, places of refuge for the shepherd and the laborer in case of a sudden alarm or a hostile inroad. The orchards extended more than a mile from the walls of the suburbs, which, constructed rather for enclosure than protection, were low, and composed of rough stones put together with mud and lime.

Arrived before Baza, the great army of the Christians attempted to penetrate the orchards and intrench itself near their inner border. Conscious of the importance of preventing this movement, the garrison issued from the city in force, and a hand-to-hand battle began. Perfectly familiar with the locality, and able to thread at will the maze of intersecting paths darkened by overhanging foliage, fighting on foot against horsemen encumbered with heavy weapons and armor, and more accustomed to such encounters than their adversaries, the Moors readily obtained the advantage. Each tower and house sent forth a stream of deadly missiles. Every hedge concealed a body of enemies ready to fall upon the rear of an advancing column. The confined and perplexing nature of the ground made it impossible to maintain the line of battle, to obey the word of command, and often, amidst the smoke and confusion, to distinguish friend from foe. The result of the struggle was therefore largely dependent on the efforts of individual courage. Each soldier sought an antagonist, and the savage combat terminated only with the death of an enemy. The shady arcades of the forest rang with the reports of musketry, the shouts of the combatants, and the clash of steel upon steel. To add to the horrors of the scene, some towers which had been taken by the Christians, and others, still held by the Moors, were set on fire, and the shrieks of the tortured wretches who occupied them and whose escape was cut off rose high above the din of battle. Many prudent Spanish officers, recognizing the disadvantages under which they labored and apprehensive of a disastrous result, endeavored to withdraw their commands; but, utterly bewildered, and unable to ascertain the direction of the camp, they were forced to participate, against their will, in the dangers of the unequal and uncertain contest. It raged with fury for twelve long hours; the press of reinforcements hindered the retirement of those in the front of the lines, and many unhurt fell from sheer exhaustion. At length, as night was approaching, the superior endurance of the Christians prevailed, and the Moslems, oppressed with fatigue but still undaunted, withdrew to a palisade in the centre of the orchards, leaving to their opponents the doubtful advantage of a bloody and barren victory.

After a short respite, the Moors, under cover of the darkness and aided by the dense foliage which the Spaniards in the obscurity dared not attempt to penetrate, resumed the fight; and until dawn the entire force remained under arms, exposed to a galling fire of balls and arrows discharged at easy range, which they were powerless to check and unable to answer.

With the morning light appeared a scene of desolation where but the day before had been displayed a picture of serenity and peace. The elegant villas had been transformed into shapeless heaps of ashes. Over the ground, trampled like a highway by the feet of thousands, were strewn the melancholy proofs of the obstinacy with which the contest had been waged,—broken weapons, dinted armor, tattered banners, blood-stained garments, and hundreds of bodies distorted by the frightful agonies of death. The grass and the flowers, which so recently presented a pleasing contrast of many colors, had now assumed a uniform, crimson hue. The air was still murky with the smoke of battle, which, absorbed by the mist, the rays of the sun were slow to dissipate. When the Spaniards had collected their wounded and buried their dead their heavy loss was disclosed; and it became apparent that the present position, taken in violation of every consideration of prudence, was untenable. Convinced of his error, Ferdinand at once ordered the camp to be removed to the plain, and, under a continuous fire, the soldiers retired from the spot where the enterprise of its commanders had met with such an inauspicious beginning. A council of war was then held to determine the course to be adopted. A large preponderance of votes favored the abandonment of the undertaking. In his perplexity, Ferdinand, as was his custom in all important emergencies, solicited the opinion of the Queen. Isabella, whose martial spirit and vigorous understanding were averse to countenancing even an appearance of indecision or cowardice, while leaving the determination of the question to the army, plainly indicated her desire that the siege should be prosecuted. Her answer was received with acclamations; the misgivings of the wavering were removed by the confidence of success which now pervaded the camp; and the city, soon invested on all sides, excepting that of the sierra, began to realize that its deliverance, if achieved at all, could only be secured after a severe and protracted struggle. The immense extent of the lines which required to be guarded exceeded the capacity and exhausted the power of even ninety-five thousand men. In order to deprive the Moors of one of their most valuable means of defence, the order was issued to cut down the orchards. This proceeding, of itself one of extreme difficulty, was rendered doubly hazardous by the enemy, who exhausted every resource to prevent its accomplishment. An advance guard of seven thousand men protected those detailed for the work of destruction. The number and size of the trees were so great that the axemen could scarcely advance ten paces in as many hours; and it required the incessant labor of four thousand men forty days to complete the stupendous task. The possession of every foot of ground was stubbornly contested; and, besides the desultory attacks of skirmishers, twice every day the Moors charged the slowly advancing line at several different points, confusing the workmen with their cries, and taxing to the utmost the energy and the resolution of those appointed to defend them. When, finally, every tree had been removed, the line of circumvallation was established. A ditch, protected by palisades, was excavated on the sides towards the valley, and strengthened by fifteen castles built of stone, which were distributed at intervals of three hundred paces along the intrenchments. On the declivity of the sierra a double wall was constructed, so that an attack from any quarter might be repelled. The entire circuit of the fortified line was upward of twelve miles. Thus completely surrounded, the activity of the besieged, hitherto incessant and dangerous, was effectually restrained. An attempt to cut off the water-supply of the city, which was obtained from a spring at the foot of the mountain, was frustrated by the prudent diligence of the Moslems.

The monotonous course of the siege dragged wearily on, broken occasionally by some gallant exploit or by some encounter marked by the courtesy whose practice was inculcated by the chivalrous rules of the tilt and the tournament. A foray to the gates of Guadix, undertaken by that daring cavalier, Hernan Perez del Pulgar, whose intrepid and often foolhardy achievements contribute so much to the romantic interest attaching to the history of the War of Granada, resulted in the defeat of a squadron of Moorish cavalry and the seizure of a considerable number of cattle. The responsibility of the entire expedition devolved on Pulgar, whose courage at a critical moment saved the day and prevented the rout and capture of the entire detachment. As rumors of the peril of Baza spread through the remaining provinces of the kingdom, the Moors, aware that the fall of that city would involve their own destruction, were everywhere overcome with indignation and terror. An attempt to elude the vigilance of the besiegers and introduce provisions and troops into the town met with signal failure. Even in the capital, the selfish interests of the mercantile community could no longer withstand the reproaches of the people, who viewed with feverish apprehension the prospect of the dissolution of their monarchy and the extinction of their religion. Their seditious murmurs, which did not hesitate to suggest the assassination of a treacherous king, reached the Alhambra; the emissaries of Boabdil readily ascertained the identity of the leaders; they were apprehended and beheaded; and this summary exhibition of severity awed the indiscreet populace, which seemed never able to learn that the first and most indispensable requisite of successful insurrection is secrecy. Unable to grasp or appreciate the significance of the events transpiring around him, unsuspicious or careless of the part he was taking in the undermining of his dynasty, Boabdil remained in inglorious retirement amidst the voluptuous delights of that palace from whose enchanting precincts he was erelong to be expelled under every circumstance of obloquy and shame. By his orders, the guaranty of security and the promise of additional favors from Ferdinand and Isabella to all who acknowledged his authority were proclaimed in every market-place throughout his jurisdiction. Insensible to disgrace, he accepted each month from the Spanish Court the stipend which confirmed his subservient infamy; and, in return for this degrading compensation, he subverted every attempt to repel the invaders of his country, and diligently suppressed at its inception each demonstration in favor of national integrity and independence.

In their despair, the Spanish Moslems now resorted to a strange expedient. Distracted by their misfortunes, which seemed but the prelude to greater calamities, and without friends or allies, they turned in their distress to the Sultan of Turkey, a potentate who, not only for his eminence as a Mussulman ruler, but also as Commander of the Faithful, the religious representative of the Prophet, was entitled to the reverence, as he was intrusted with the protection, of the various nations of the Mohammedan world. In pathetic terms they represented the evils to which they had for centuries been subjected by Christian encroachment, their inability to longer resist the progress of conquest, the sacrifices and losses they had been compelled to endure, the enslavement of their brethren, and the difficulties which their ultimate subjection must inevitably impose upon the existence and perpetuation of the Moslem faith. Moved by the piteous supplication of his fellow-sectaries, Bajazet II. despatched two Franciscan friars to Rome, to threaten the Pope with retaliation upon the Christians in his dominions—who under Turkish rule enjoyed the utmost liberty of thought and action—unless he used his power to restrain his Catholic dependents in Spain. His Holiness sent the envoys of the Sultan to the Spanish Court bearing a letter from himself, which simply recounted the facts, but prudently omitted any recommendations. The answer of Ferdinand and Isabella was both ingenious and plausible. They claimed, not unjustly, the entire Peninsula by right of inheritance; an inheritance usurped by the ancestors of those who now laid claim to territory about to be lost in the same manner in which it was acquired; they declared that their title to this empire had never been renounced or forfeited, but had been constantly asserted through seven centuries of warfare; and that under their dominion all infidel tributaries enjoyed privileges equal to those conferred upon Christians in any Mohammedan community in the world. In order to gain the favor of the Mussulman monarch, Ferdinand promised to assist him with men and ships in the war which he was then waging against the Emir of Egypt. The Catholic sovereigns seem to have had the best of the argument, for nothing further is related of the controversy; and the Sultan interfered no more in the affairs of the Peninsula, but left the unfortunate votaries of Islam to their fate.

As the nature of the country through which Baza was approached made the transportation of heavy artillery extremely difficult, it was deemed preferable to reduce the city by blockade. All supplies were necessarily conveyed by pack-train, and, in consequence of the great amount required, there was occasionally a scarcity of provisions. No inconvenient effects after five months of enforced seclusion were apparent in the conduct of the people of Baza. The daily attacks, skirmishes, defiances, continued without intermission; and while deserters frequently reported the insufficiency of food, no evidence of want was visible in the movements of the soldiers, whose activity and prowess indicated anything but the weakness born of famine and emaciation. The approach of winter, a season of great severity in the mountains of Baza, inspired the Moors with renewed and enthusiastic confidence. On the other hand, the Christians, admonished of the hardships they were liable to encounter, prepared as best they could to alleviate and endure them.

The executive ability of Isabella, who in every campaign had assumed the arduous duty of keeping the army provided with whatever was required for the conduct of military operations, was never more eminently displayed than at the siege of Baza. Notwithstanding the difficulties attaching to the carriage of supplies, plenty, for the greater portion of the time, reigned in the besieging army. From the head-quarters of the Queen at Jaen, convoys under strong escorts were constantly passing and repassing through the mountains with vast quantities of grain and munitions of war. Such confidence was felt in the security of transportation through the enemy’s country that, from every province of the Peninsula as well as from Sicily, merchants brought their wares to the camp, where a ready market was found for objects of luxury,—“articles,” as a contemporaneous chronicler plaintively remarks, “which render soldiers effeminate and injure armies, while they are in no respect advantageous to them.”

In accordance with their usual policy, the Spaniards proceeded to impress the enemy with the permanent character of their enterprise. A great number of huts of stone, cemented with mud, were built, and laid out in streets with all the regularity of a town. In addition to these, destined for the nobility and their vassals, many rude shelters were constructed from the trunks and branches of trees for the accommodation of the common soldiers, the horses, and the followers of the camp. These labors had hardly been completed when a furious storm undermined the walls, demolished the buildings, and involved in a scene of chaos the quarters of the entire army. The lighter materials were instantly swept away by the mountain torrents. Many soldiers were killed by the crumbling hovels, or, pinned down by heavy weights, were suffocated in the mire. The provisions were nearly all destroyed, and the roads so damaged that communication with Jaen was completely interrupted. The greatest distress soon prevailed. For nearly two weeks the soldiers remained without shelter and almost without food. Wading knee-deep in mud, drenched with constant rain, debilitated by hunger, hundreds died from exposure and from the fevers resulting from unsanitary conditions. During all this time the hostility of the Moors never for a moment slackened. In sheer desperation the Christians, although faint with weakness and disease, maintained their ground. Those who had from the first advised against the siege as impracticable now became importunate. The King listened to their remonstrances, and began to consider in his own mind the propriety of a retreat. Once more the inflexible resolution of Isabella revived the sinking spirits of her consort and her subjects and restored the fortunes of the campaign. In reply to the communications of Ferdinand, recounting the difficulties and discouragements he was forced to endure, she urged patience, determination, courage. Six thousand men were sent forth at once from Jaen to clear and repair the paths through the sierra. Convoys with ample supplies followed closely upon the heels of the pioneers. In addition to this, knowing that the soldiers deprived of their pay for months were impatient and inclined to be mutinous, the Queen wrote personal letters to the wealthy nobles requesting advances of money, and deposited her own gold and silver plate and jewels in Barcelona and Valencia, as security for loans. An idea may be formed of the straits to which the treasury had been reduced by the war from the fact that the royal crown of Castile and a magnificent necklace of great value on which sixty thousand florins had been advanced remained in the latter city unredeemed in 1490, six years after they had been pledged. By these energetic measures a large sum was obtained, from which all arrears could be discharged and the remainder applied to the prosecution of war.

But while this substantial assistance was of the greatest value in preserving the army, it was far from removing the prevalent apprehension and discontent. The great reliance that was placed on the Queen, and the universal respect entertained for her judgment, were now manifested in the general desire that she should visit the camp. The King did not hesitate to declare that he sorely needed her advice. Those who still favored the continuance of active operations hoped that her presence would infuse fresh enthusiasm into the minds of the disheartened troops; the malcontents, weary of hardship and sighing for the pleasures of Cordova and Seville, were convinced that personal experience of the dangers of the siege, which, while productive of enormous expense and loss of life, offered little prospect of adequate compensation, would induce their sovereign to favor the abandonment of such an unprofitable enterprise. Six months had elapsed without the acquirement of any substantial advantage. In spite of the fact that every day of that time had been marked by one or more bloody encounters, the Moslems were apparently as determined as ever. The reports of deserters now conveyed the information that provisions for several months still remained in the city. The women of Baza, animated by a noble spirit of self-denial, had contributed their jewels to pay the garrison. All attempts at negotiation—considered by the Moors as conclusive evidences of weakness—had been repulsed, and the latter did not conceal their expectation that the winter storms would yet force the retreat of the enemy. But the inability to employ heavy ordnance was the most serious drawback of all. Without it the fortifications of Baza were impregnable. The reduction by blockade was tedious, perilous, uncertain. While, as in the case of Malaga, no relief from exterior sources could be expected, the besieged were not exposed to artillery fire, and the event was, in fact, entirely a question of physical endurance.

Under these discouraging circumstances, Isabella set out from Jaen. In her train were members of the Royal Council, Cardinal Mendoza, the Archbishop of Seville, and an imposing array of prelates and nobles, of knights and ladies, who represented the piety, the dignity, and the beauty of the Court. The arrival of the Queen diffused universal joy and confidence throughout the camp; hostilities, which heretofore had been incessant, were suspended; silence and peace reigned where but a few hours before had resounded the noise and turmoil of conflict; and the Moors began to evince a disposition to entertain proposals for surrender, which until this time they had persistently refused to consider. In consequence of this favorable inclination of the besieged, an interview was held between the Don Gutierre de Cardenas, Commander of Leon, as the representative of the Catholic sovereigns, and Sidi Yahya, the Moslem governor. The question was submitted to the citizens of Baza, and by them referred to Al-Zagal. In their representations to the King, the people set forth the painful circumstances of their extremity, the hopelessness of aid, the apparently inexhaustible resources of the enemy, and their dread of the consequences, if misfortune should follow further resistance. To this appeal Al-Zagal generously replied that it was his wish that his subjects should act in this case as might seem most advantageous to them.

When this decision became known the utmost consternation spread throughout the great city of Guadix. Long the seat of royal power, isolated by its retired situation and by the mountains that surrounded it from active participation in, or personal experience of, the events which had contributed to the downfall of the monarchy, its inhabitants looked forward with undisguised repugnance and fear to the supremacy of a foreign ruler and the introduction of a hostile religion. The people, divided into two parties, one of which favored submission and the other resistance, were distracted by the contradictory arguments of the leaders, whose indignation was intensified by the acrimony of dispute; general distrust prevailed; the exercise of authority was for the moment suspended; the streets resounded with pathetic lamentations; and the trembling citizens, with pallid faces and half-frenzied with terror, asked each other if even their lives would be spared. It was with the utmost difficulty that persons of influence and distinction could pacify their ignorant neighbors, whose excited feelings had rendered them a prey to the most dismal apprehensions.

The reply of Al-Zagal was no sooner received than Sidi Yahya made arrangements for the surrender of Baza. Some provisions of the articles of capitulation were secret, and were never divulged. Many Moors of high rank were enriched by their subserviency to the enemy, which indicated a previous understanding, unsuspected at the time by their countrymen. The terms made public were almost identical with the most favorable ones granted to other cities. Non-residents who had volunteered their assistance during the siege were dismissed without restraint or ransom. All were confirmed in the possession of their personal effects; to the citizens was accorded the choice of continued residence or emigration; no restriction was to be imposed on the use of laws, customs, language, or religion; the taxes were to remain unchanged; and, in consideration of their obedience, the people were to fully enjoy the protection and receive the assistance of their new sovereigns. Hostages were delivered by the governor and the principal officials of the city; valuable gifts were presented to the latter, who did homage to the King and Queen; and the six days within which the city was to be evacuated, as provided by the treaty, having elapsed, Baza, after a most memorable defence, passed into the hands of the Christians on the fourth day of December, 1489.

As soon as information of its surrender had reached the various towns within its jurisdiction, their magistrates hastened to secure equal advantages by a timely submission. Within a few days, Almuñecar, Purchena, Tabernas, the innumerable settlements of the Alpujarras—in short, all the territory lying between Almeria and Granada—were added to the rapidly extending dominions of the Spanish Crown. The influence of Sidi Yahya, who visited Guadix for that purpose, was the means of inducing Al-Zagal to relinquish that city and Almeria, with their dependencies, the last relics of his diminished empire. The valiant old soldier, who had so long and so stoutly withstood the attacks of adverse fortune, was certainly deserving of a better fate. His sagacity and penetration readily convinced him of the futility of further resistance; he submitted with humility to the inexorable decree of Allah, and yielded with apparent willingness, but inward abhorrence, the sole remaining vestiges of his power. In return for these concessions his conquerors generously granted him his life, and the government of the small and barren principality of Andarax, where the habitual deference of his inferiors and the indulgence of fortune permitted him, for a time, the enjoyment of the titles and the exercise of the privileges of royalty.

Of the fragments of the vast and opulent Hispano-Arab monarchy, with its scores of magnificent cities, its landscape diversified by all the evidences of agricultural science and industry, its harbors the seat of a world-wide commerce, its society graced by every refinement of literary and artistic culture, there remained now but a limited and distracted province, bounded by the mountain ranges which encompassed its capital. That capital, although for years subjected to the pernicious and destructive effects of constant revolution and sanguinary disorder, still preserved, to a great extent, untarnished and unimpaired, its pristine elegance and beauty. Through the interested and politic forbearance of its enemies, it retained the delusive semblance of freedom and the pretensions of an imperial metropolis. No diminution in the number of its inhabitants was perceptible. The places of those sacrificed in foreign and domestic wars had been filled by refugees from ravaged lands and plundered cities. It was only in the decimated ranks of the nobility that the appalling results of national misfortune were apparent. Few indeed remained of those gallant cavaliers whose exploits in the field had for years sustained the exalted reputation of the Granadan chivalry. Of the five thousand present at the accession of Muley Hassan, but three hundred had survived. In the superb palaces, a royal slave, supported by a monthly pension from the Spanish Crown, maintained the unsubstantial parade of sovereignty and power. There were few indications visible to suggest the frightful scenes through which the city had passed. The barricades raised by armed sedition had been removed. The blood-stains had disappeared from the streets. Far above, on the highest tower of the citadel, might be discerned, impaled on pikes and beaten by many a storm, the grisly heads of those political agitators who had paid the penalty of unsuccessful insurrection with their lives. Except these significant tokens of despotic severity there was nothing to indicate the threatening cloud which hung over fair Granada. Within the ample circuit of its walls the hand of war had not yet placed its withering grasp. Its orchards still yielded their delicious fruits. Its gardens were still fragrant with the mingled odors of myriads of blossoms. In the bazaars, traders from every province of the Peninsula, relying upon the assurance of Christian protection, exchanged in peace their various wares. In the factories, which still produced in diminished quantities the richest fabrics, the busy artisans plied their trades. But this condition of apparent tranquillity was delusive. In the breasts of the aristocracy still rankled the enmity of generations. The populace was exasperated by tyranny and the infliction of long-continued outrage. The calamities induced by treason and barbarity were first in the minds of all. No exhibition of royal pomp could conceal the fact that the King had been for years a vassal of the infidel. No concession to public prejudice could atone for the butchery of relatives, the invasion of privacy, the confiscation of treasure. Over palace and mosque, over park and thoroughfare, hovered the ineffaceable memories of recent and bloody fraternal strife. In every public edifice, in every private abode, the trophies of victory reposed in suggestive proximity to the emblems of mourning and death.

The Vega, however, once the marvel of agricultural perfection and the centre of Moslem industry, presented a far different appearance. The verdant groves with which its surface had been diversified were gone. Its hydraulic system was disarranged and in part destroyed; the canals were filled up with rubbish; the rivulets diverted from their former course, and useless. Instead of the splendid villas, the graceful mosques, the snowy cottages embowered in roses, a few straggling huts rose at intervals over the uniform scene of ruin and devastation. Here and there, a patch of green, marking the spot where cultivation had begun to revive, contrasted with the generally charred and desolate aspect of the landscape. An occasional half-demolished tower indicated the former refuge of the laborer, sufficient against an ordinary marauding party, but powerless before armies numbering tens of thousands.

To such limited dimensions was the once all-powerful Moslem empire in Europe now reduced. Almost from the very day of its foundation it had been distracted by feud and sedition. It had witnessed the rise and growth of kingdoms; the birth of dynasties which from insignificant beginnings now bade fair to overshadow the world with their power; the portentous growth of a religious system that already menaced liberty of thought, and was soon to exert a potent and wide-spread influence for evil. The banner of the Cross had moved in a slow but steady progress from the frozen valleys of the Pyrenees to the verdant banks of the Darro. The cold, inhospitable region of the Asturias, destitute of the smiling attractions of Nature, without military roads or adequate subsistence, had repelled the assaults and checked the enterprise of the Moslems, who disdained and avoided a foe equally remarkable for poverty, fanaticism, and valor. The inability to appreciate and the neglect to crush this once despised but eventually formidable enemy was the first step in the decline of the Moorish power. Its fall was accelerated by many diverse circumstances. The glaring defects of its monarchical system, the absolute want of cohesion of its numerous and discordant political elements, the manifold evils derived from polygamous institutions and disputed inheritance, all became manifest when the factions of Islam began to contend for superiority in the bitter and interminable struggle for wealth and dominion.

In the rapidity and perfection of its intellectual development no nation ever approached the Spanish Arabs. But as their rise was sudden and brilliant, so their fall was the more crushing and disastrous. The truism that progressive degeneracy is the inevitable fate of every people who have reached the highest point of intellectual culture and material progress was once more to be demonstrated. Unfortunately for humanity, while the physical sciences advance, the art of government almost invariably retrogrades. The most perfect form of civilization is not favorable to the permanence of a state existing under the most finished social conditions. The greater the degree of intelligence, the lower the standard of political morality. These facts are strikingly exemplified in the closing history of the kingdom of Granada. At that period no people was as far advanced in the attainment of knowledge; in the practical application of scientific principles; in familiarity with and appreciation of the mechanical and the elegant arts. And, it must be added, nowhere was there less patriotism, less loyalty, less of that spirit of mutual concession and self-sacrifice indispensable to the preservation of communities and the maintenance of empire. Sovereign and subject alike, by turns, betrayed each other to the enemy. The most sacred obligations that can exist between the governors and the governed were repudiated without a blush. Crimes that would have appalled barbarians were so common as scarcely to excite comment. An ignoble competition seemed to exist between bodies of citizens of the same blood, and professing the same religious faith, to throw themselves into the power of an artful and perfidious adversary who was the mortal enemy of all. A universal degradation, from whose blight even the most illustrious were not exempt, pervaded all classes,—a condition which had at last reached its climax after its gradual development through centuries, and was finally disclosed by that perversion of manners, morals, government, and laws which so significantly indicates the corruption and the decadence of nations.

The main provision in the compact exacted at Loja by the Catholic sovereigns from Boabdil in his distress involved the surrender of Granada and all the contiguous territory subject to his jurisdiction, as soon as the dominions of Al-Zagal had been incorporated into the Spanish monarchy. Compliance with the terms of this agreement was now formally demanded. The weak and unprincipled King, who in making the bargain had never anticipated its enforcement or appreciated the debilitated condition of the kingdom and the imminent danger of its downfall, was thunderstruck when he learned that the power of his uncle had suddenly collapsed. It had been his hope that the complacent subserviency he had exhibited in the protection of the interests of his country’s enemies, the abject submission with which he had implored their aid against his subjects, and the costly gifts which he had secretly distributed among influential courtiers standing in the shadow of the throne, would suffice to procure for him the enjoyment of at least the name and the appearance of royal authority for the remainder of his life. Therefore, with a view to deferring the evil, yet with no definite expectation of preventing it, he tried to temporize. He represented that immediate fulfilment of his contract was impossible, for the reason that, as great numbers of persons driven out of the conquered territory had since become citizens of Granada, it was necessary to consult their interests and obtain their acquiescence in the terms demanded. Anxious to avoid a renewal of hostilities, Ferdinand offered to bestow upon him certain estates from whose revenue he might live in luxury, dependent solely upon the acknowledgment of vassalage and the payment of a moderate tribute. But Boabdil, always vacillating when promptness and decision were required, always headstrong when the exigencies of the occasion demanded compliance, as usual adopted an impolitic course. Turning a deaf ear to the remonstrances of his most sagacious advisers, who recognized the advantages of submission and the folly of resistance, he began to listen to the rash counsels of the youthful nobles and desperate adventurers whose votes were unanimously for war.

Then Ferdinand sent to the people of Granada a copy of the secret treaty which revealed the perfidy and dishonor of their King. Its publication aroused such universal indignation and contempt that nothing but his inaccessible position in the citadel of the Alhambra saved his life. The streets were filled with a surging mob, whose clamors rose menacingly to the battlements of the palace. The renegades, santons, exiles, and soldiers of fortune inflamed the fickle and turbulent populace, whose supremacy signified anarchy, proscription, and death. Fortunately for the detested monarch, the soldiers remained faithful to his cause, and their devotion alone preserved him from the violence of his infuriated subjects. By strenuous efforts the old Arab aristocracy and the wealthy merchants finally succeeded in restoring order. The crowds, still uttering ominous threats, sullenly dispersed. The shops were once more opened. Traffic was resumed, and the citizens, with a despairing sense of helplessness and trepidation, moved uneasily through the streets. Boabdil, conscious that the only choice now left to him was that of abdication or war, selected the latter alternative, and publicly announced his intention to fight, and to prolong, if he could not palliate, the last throes of an expiring monarchy. The conditions resulting from the suddenly altered relations of the courts of Castile and Granada obtained for the Moors some minor advantages; the castle of Padul and a few other forts near the capital were taken; an expedition led by Ferdinand in person through the Vega for the purpose of destroying the harvests failed to thoroughly accomplish its object; and, constantly harassed by the enemy, the Christians were eventually forced to retreat.

The pitiful remnant of the kingdom of Granada, heretofore torn by sedition and threatened with conquest, was now to experience the active hostility of those who should have ventured their lives to defend it before it was reduced to extremity. The eminent qualities of Sidi Yahya, the former governor of Baza, his courtesy and his prowess, his illustrious birth, and the gallantry with which he had maintained his trust, had extorted the reluctant applause of his enemies, commendation formerly denied to others of equal merit but inferior lineage. These noble attributes had, however, recently been darkened by actions which brought upon him the imputation of corruption, apostasy, venality, and treason. He was more than suspected of having sacrificed the people of Baza for his personal benefit. Men eyed with suspicion the favor he enjoyed with the Christians, the sudden wealth he had acquired, the close relations he maintained with the enemy. These accusations, which his subsequent conduct tended rather to confirm than to remove, were well grounded. In recognition of his influence great interest was taken in him. Every attempt was made to induce him to renounce his religion. The most learned and distinguished prelates labored to convince him of his errors. Even the Queen interposed her good offices in an attempt at proselytism. Magnificent presents were bestowed upon him as an earnest of greater and more substantial rewards. At first, amidst all of the importunity and temptation of his zealous advisers, the constancy of the subtle Moor remained apparently unshaken. This firmness was, however, simulated. He had long before determined to profit by the certain benefits of a voluntary conversion. His resistance only served to enhance the credit of those who effected his apparent change of heart. After having been duly “catechised,” as the chronicler significantly remarks, he became a good Christian, and was secretly received into the bosom of the Church.

Sidi Yahya, anxious to demonstrate his fidelity to his new suzerain and to remove any prejudice that might result from his contumacy, evinced the greatest enthusiasm for the Spanish cause. With a hundred and fifty followers, he assisted in the foray which laid waste the environs of Granada; and, by the use of a well-worn stratagem, captured an important outpost of the capital, and earned at the same time the applause of his recently acquired friends and the execration of those still bound to him by the ties of a common ancestry, and who had been so lately professors of a common faith. Upon the elevation now known as The Soto de Roma, two leagues from the city, stood in the fifteenth century a strong castle, built to protect the royal orchards and parks by which it was surrounded. At the head of his command and apparently escorting a number of Christian captives, Sidi Yahya approached the fortress, and, stating that he was closely pursued, requested immediate shelter. The soldiers of the garrison, deceived by the dress, by the arms, and especially by the language of the strangers, whom they supposed to be a party from Granada, without hesitation opened the gates. A few moments afterwards they were prisoners; their pretended friends disclosed the fact that they were the vassals of Spain; and the banner of Castile and Leon was raised upon the battlements. By such methods did the renowned Moorish captain attempt to emphasize his new allegiance, thereby meriting the detestation of every faithful Moslem, and tarnishing the lustre of a military record which, until his political and religious apostasy, had remained without a blemish. Al-Zagal also answered the summons of Ferdinand with two hundred cavalry; and, in sight of those towers where he had formerly reigned supreme, displayed the same dash and courage which had signalized his operations while he was the most formidable adversary of those sovereigns whom the fortunes of war now compelled him to serve in a subordinate capacity.

The exploit of the princely apostate was soon eclipsed by the capture of Alhendin. That castle, situated near Granada, was one of the strongest in the Vega, and had not long before surrendered to the Spaniards without resistance. Invested suddenly by the forces of Boabdil, the slender garrison was unable to withstand the impetuous attack of the Moors, who fought in relays and left the besieged no respite day or night. Four days sufficed to reduce the Christians to extremity; all communication with their friends being interrupted left them no alternative but submission; they were led in triumph to the dungeons of the capital, and Alhendin was razed to the ground. After Alhendin, the castles of Alboloduy and Marchena attracted the hostility of the Moorish King. Both were stormed and pillaged; their Castilian garrisons were enslaved, and the lands dependent on them, which formed part of the fief of Sidi Yahya, were ravaged without mercy. The Mudejares of the surrounding country were tortured or massacred; the cattle driven away; and the victorious Boabdil returned to Granada, where he was received with the greatest enthusiasm. These brilliant deeds raised the fainting hopes of the Moslems; prompted by the deceptive but plausible expectations of victory, they dreamed of the return of independence and the restoration of empire; the army increased rapidly in numbers; and arrangements were made for the prosecution of an extensive and vigorous campaign. The siege of Salobreña, whose port offered easy communication with the African coast, was next undertaken. Its defenders, provided with insufficient rations, were soon oppressed with hunger, and, exhausted by the desperate charges of the Moslem soldiery, who, adopting the tactics successful at Alhendin, maintained a furious and incessant combat, the suburbs and the town were stormed; and the garrison, driven to the citadel, began to yield to despair. The numbers of the enemy and their strong position rendered the relief of the place impossible without the aid of a powerful army; but Hernan Perez del Pulgar, with seventy lances, cut his way through the lines, and his arrival infused new energy into the despondent minds of the besieged. Again and again the Moorish battalions were repulsed; there was no time for the employment of the slow but more certain operations of artillery; intelligence reached the Moslems that Ferdinand was approaching; and Boabdil, after a rapid and inglorious retreat, found safety within the walls of his capital. The unexpected spirit displayed by the Moorish King aroused the martial ardor of the Mudejares, who had so recently renounced their allegiance to Al-Zagal, and were eager to cast off the yoke which they had assumed from necessity. Communication was secretly opened between the malcontents of Guadix, Almeria, Baza, and the Moslem court; many recruits from these and other cities enlisted in the army of Granada; and preparations for a conspiracy were inaugurated which only awaited a propitious moment to burst forth into a general and bloody insurrection.

It was impossible to preserve a secret known to whole communities, and, informers being abundant among the Moors, it was not long before full details of the plot were in possession of the Spanish authorities. As practically all of the Mudejares were implicated, either as active participants or as sympathizers, it was not considered advisable to inflict the extreme severity of punishment that the case demanded, so milder, but fully as effective, measures were decided upon. Guadix was the centre of the disaffection, and the Marquis of Villena, Captain-General of the district, induced all the inhabitants of that city to gather outside the walls under pretext of an enumeration. He then closed the gates, acquainted them with the reason for this precaution, and ordered them to await the arrival of the King. When Ferdinand came, a few days subsequently, he declared that the unfortunate people of Guadix had forfeited their claims to protection or clemency, and he gave them the alternative of immediate exile or a tributary residence in his dominions in open and unfortified villages. The same rigorous terms were offered to Baza and Almeria; a large emigration to Tlemcen and Fez took place; a considerable number of industrious Moors established themselves in Andalusia, where the Inquisition eventually visited its tortures upon them or their descendants; and thus, without the least effort or even apparent formality of confiscation, the rich possessions of the Moors—their elegant villas, their plantations and vineyards, their sumptuous residences, mosques, and gardens—passed into the rapacious hands of the Christians.

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.

END OF VOLUME II.

Transcriber’s Notes:

1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.

2. Where hyphenation is in doubt, it has been retained as in the original.

3. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

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Table of Contents

- HISTORY OF THE Moorish Empire IN EUROPE

- CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.

- CHAPTER XV THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IN SICILY 827–1072

- CHAPTER XVI THE PRINCIPALITIES OF MOORISH SPAIN 1012–1044

- CHAPTER XVII WARS WITH THE CHRISTIANS, THE ALMORAVIDES 1044–1121

- CHAPTER XVIII THE EMPIRE OF THE ALMOHADES 1121–1212

- CHAPTER XIX THE PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN ARMS 1212–1252

- CHAPTER XX PROSECUTION OF THE RECONQUEST 1252–1475

- CHAPTER XXI THE LAST WAR WITH GRANADA 1475–1486

- CHAPTER XXII TERMINATION OF THE RECONQUEST 1486–1492

- THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG™ LICENSE