REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES.
Operations of Los Velez--Conspiracy against Aben-Humeya--His
Assassination--Election of Aben-Aboo--Vigorous Prosecution of the
War--Fierce Combats in the Vega--Impetuous Spirit of Don John--Surprise
of Guejar.
1569.
While the events related in the preceding chapter were occurring, the
marquis of Los Velez lay, with a considerable force, at Adra, a port on
the Mediterranean, at the foot of the Alpujarras, which he had selected
chiefly from the facilities it would afford him for getting supplies for
his army. In this he was disappointed. Before the month of June had
expired, his troops had begun to be straitened for provisions. The evil
went on increasing from day to day. His levies, composed chiefly of raw
recruits from Andalusia, were full of that independent, and indeed
turbulent spirit, which belongs to an ill-disciplined militia. There was
no lack of courage in the soldiery. But the same men who had fearlessly
braved the dangers of the campaign, now growing impatient under the
pinch of hunger, abandoned their colours in great numbers.
There were various causes for the deficiency of supplies. The principal
one of these may probably be found in the remissness of the council of
war, several of whose members regarded the marquis with an evil eye, and
were not sorry to see his embarrassments.
[Sidenote: OPERATIONS OF LOS VELEZ.]
Some vigorous measures were instantly to be taken, or the army, it was
evident, would soon altogether melt away. By the king's command, orders
were despatched to Requesens, who lay with his squadron off the port of
Velez-Malaga, to supply the camp with provisions, while it received
reinforcements, as before, principally from the Andalusian militia. The
army received a still more important accession in the well-disciplined
veterans who had followed the grand-commander from Italy. Thus
strengthened, and provisioned for a week or more, Los Velez, at the head
of twelve thousand men, set forth on the twenty-sixth of July, and
struck at once into the Alpujarras. He had been directed by the council
to establish himself at Ugibar, which, by its central position, would
enable him to watch the movements of Aben-Humeya, and act on any point
as occasion required.
The marquis, without difficulty, defeated a force of some five or six
thousand men, who had been stationed to oppose his entrance into the
mountain country. He then pressed forward, and on the high lands beyond
Ugibar--which place he had already occupied--he came in sight of
Aben-Humeya, with the flower of his troops drawn up to receive him.
The two chiefs, in their characters, their persons, and their
equipments, might be considered as no bad types of the European and the
Arab chivalry. The marquis, sheathed in complete mail, of a sable
colour, and mounted on his heavy war-horse, also covered with armour,
was to be seen brandishing a lance which, short and thick, seemed rather
like a truncheon, as he led his men boldly on, prepared to plunge at
once into the thick of the fight.[181] He was the very emblem of brute
force. Aben-Humeya, on the other hand, gracefully managing his
swift-footed, snow-white Andalusian, with his Morisco mantle of crimson
floating lightly from his shoulders, and his Turkish turban wreathed
around his head,[182] instead of force, suggested the opposite ideas of
agility and adroitness, so characteristic of the children of the East.
Riding along his lines, the Morisco prince exhorted his followers not to
fear the name of Los Velez: for, in the hour of danger, God would aid
His own; and better was it, at any rate, to die like brave men in the
field, than to live dishonoured.[183] Notwithstanding these magnanimous
words, it was far from Aben-Humeya's wish to meet his enemy in a fair
field of fight. It was contrary to the genius and the habit of his
warfare, which was of the guerilla kind, abounding in sallies and
surprises, in which, seeking some vulnerable point, he could deal his
blow and retreat precipitately among the mountains.
Yet his followers, though greatly inferior in numbers to the enemy,
behaved with spirit; and the field was well contested, till a body of
Andalusian horse, making a _detour_ under cover of some rising ground,
fell unexpectedly on the rear of the Moriscoes, and threw them into
confusion. The marquis pressing them at the same time vigorously in
front, they broke, and soon gave way on all sides. Aben-Humeya,
perceiving the day lost, gave the rein to his high-mettled genet, who
swiftly bore him from the field; and, though hotly pursued, he soon left
his enemies behind. On reaching the foot of the Sierra Nevada, the chief
dismounted, and hamstringing his noble animal, plunged into the depths
of the mountains, which again opened their friendly arms to receive
him.[184] Yet he did not remain there long before he was joined by his
followers; and no sooner was he in sufficient strength, than he showed
himself on the eastern skirts of the sierra, whence, like an eagle
stooping on his prey, he rushed down upon the plains below, sweeping
through the rich valley of the Rio de Almanzora, and carrying fire and
sword to the very borders of Murcia. Here he revenged himself on Los
Velez by falling on his town of Las Cuevas, firing his dwellings,
ravaging his estates, and rousing his Morisco vassals to rebellion.[185]
Meanwhile the marquis, instead of following up his victory, remained
torpid within the walls of Calahorra. Here he had desired the council to
provide stores for the subsistence of his army. To his dismay, none had
been provided; and as his own attempts to procure them were
unsuccessful, he soon found himself in the same condition as at Adra.
The famine-stricken troops, with little pay and less plunder, first
became discontented, then mutinous, and at length deserted in great
numbers. It was in vain that the irascible old chief poured out his
wrath in menaces and imprecations. His arrogant temper had made him
hated even more than he was feared by his soldiers. They now went off,
not stealthily and by night, but in the open day, whole companies at a
time, their arquebuses on their shoulders, and their matches
lighted.[186] When Don Diego Fajardo, the marquis's son, endeavoured to
stay them, one, more audacious than the rest, lodged a musket-ball in
his body. It was not long before the gallant array with which the
marquis had so proudly entered the Alpujarras, was reduced to less than
three thousand men. Among them were the Italian veterans, who refused to
tarnish their well-earned laurels by thus basely abandoning their
commander.
The council of war complained loudly to the king of the fatal inactivity
of the marquis, and of his neglect to follow up the advantages he had
gained. Los Velez angrily retorted by throwing the blame on that body,
for neglecting to furnish him with the supplies which would have enabled
him to do so. Philip, alarmed, with reason, at the critical aspect of
affairs, ordered the marquis of Mondejar to repair to court, that he
might confer with him on the state of the country. This was the avowed
motive for his recall. But, in truth, it seems probable that the king,
aware of that nobleman's leaning to a pacific policy, and of his
personal hostility to Los Velez, deemed it best to remove him altogether
from any share in the conduct of the war. This he did most effectually,
by sending him into honourable exile, first appointing him Viceroy of
Valentia, and afterwards raising him to the important post of Viceroy of
Naples. From this period the name of Mondejar no more appears on the
theatre of the Morisco war.[187]
[Sidenote: DECLINE OF ABEN-HUMEYA'S POPULARITY.]
The marquis did not win the favour to which he was entitled by his
deserts. He seems to have possessed some of the best qualities of a good
captain. Bold in action, he was circumspect in council. Slow and
sagacious in the formation of his plans, he carried them out with
singular perseverance. He knew the country well which was the seat of
the insurrection, and perfectly understood the character of its
inhabitants. What was more rare, he made allowance for the excesses into
which they had been drawn by a long course of insult and oppression. The
humanity of his disposition combined with his views of policy to make
him rely more on conciliatory measures than on fear, for the reduction
of the enemy. How well this worked we have seen. Had he been properly
supported by those engaged with him in the direction of affairs, we can
hardly doubt of his ultimate success. But, unhappily, the two most
prominent of these, the President Deza and the Marquis of Los Velez,
were narrow-minded, implacable bigots, who, far from feeling compassion
for the Moriscoes, looked on the whole race as "God's enemies."
Unfortunately, these views found favour with the government; and
Philip, who rightly thought that the marquis of Mondejar would only
prove a hindrance to carrying on hostilities with vigour, acted
consistently in sending him from the country. Yet, while he was thus
removed from the conduct of the war, it may be thought an unequivocal
acknowledgment of Mondejar's deserts, that he was transferred to the
most considerable post in the gift of the crown.
Before the marquis's departure, Philip had transferred his court to
Cordova, in order to facilitate his communication with the seat of war.
He hoped, too, that the knowledge of his being so near would place some
check on the disorderly temper of the soldiery, and animate them with
more loyal and patriotic feelings. In this way of proceeding he
considered himself as imitating the example of his great ancestors,
Ferdinand and Isabella, who, during the war of Granada, usually
transferred their court to one of the capitals of the South. He did not,
however, think it necessary, like them, to lead his armies in person,
and share in the toils of the campaign.
On the nineteenth of October, Philip published an edict, which intimated
his design of following up the war with vigour. It commanded that such
of the Moriscoes as had hitherto been allowed to remain in Granada
should now be removed from it, in order that no means of communication
might be left to them with their brethren in the mountains. It was
further proclaimed, that the war henceforth was to be carried on with
"fire and blood;"[188] in other words, that no mercy was to be shown the
insurgents. This was the first occasion on which this fierce
denunciation had been made by the government. To reconcile the militia
of the towns to the service, their pay was to be raised to a level with
that of the Italian volunteers; and to relieve the towns, the greater
part of the expense was to be borne by the crown. Before the publication
of this ordinance the king had received intelligence of an event
unexpected alike by Christian and by Moslem--the death of Aben-Humeya,
and that by the hands of some of his own followers.
The Morisco prince, after carrying the war up to the borders of Murcia,
laid siege to two or three places of strength in that quarter. As might
have been expected, he failed in these attempts, from his want of
battering artillery. Thus foiled, he led back his forces into the
Alpujarras, and established his quarters in the ancient Moorish palace
of Lanjaron, on the slopes of the mountains commanding the beautiful
valley of Lecrin. Here the torpid condition of the Spaniards under Los
Velez allowed the young monarch to remain, and give himself up to those
sensual indulgences with which the Moslem princes of the East were apt
to solace their leisure in the intervals of war. His harem rivalled that
of any Oriental satrap in the number of its inmates. This was strange to
the Moriscoes, who, since their nominal conversion to Christianity, had
of course repudiated polygamy. In the eyes of the Moslems, it might pass
for good evidence of their prince's orthodoxy.
Ever since Aben-Humeya's ascent to the throne he had been declining in
popularity. His handsome person, the courtesy of his manners, his
chivalrous spirit, and his devotion to the cause, had easily won him the
affections of his subjects. But a too sudden elevation had unfortunately
that effect on him which it is wont to have on weak minds, without any
settled principles or lofty aim to guide them. Possessed of power, he
became tyrannical in the use of it.[189] His arbitrary acts created
enemies, not the less dangerous that they were concealed. The
consciousness of the wrongs he had committed made him suspicious. He
surrounded himself with a body-guard of four hundred men. Sixteen
hundred more were quartered in the place where he was residing; and the
principal avenues to it, we are told, were defended by barricades.[190]
Those whom he suspected he treated with particular kindness. He drew
them around his person, overwhelmed them with favours, and, when he had
won them by a show of confidence, he struck the fatal blow.[191] During
the short period of his reign, no less than three hundred and fifty
persons, we are assured, fell victims to his jealousy or his
revenge.[192]
Among Aben-Humeya's officers was one named Diego Alguazil, who had a
beautiful kinswoman, with whom he lived, it is said, on terms of greater
intimacy than was justified by the relationship of the parties. As he
was one day imprudently speaking of her to Aben-Humeya in the glowing
language of a lover, the curiosity of the king was so much inflamed by
it that he desired to see her. In addition to her personal charms, the
fair Zahara was mistress of many accomplishments which rendered her
still more attractive. She had a sweet voice, which she accompanied
bewitchingly on the lute, and in her dancing displayed all the soft and
voluptuous movements of the dark-eyed beauties of Andalusia.[193] When
brought before the king, she did her best to please him; for though
attached, as it seems, to her kinsman, the ambitious coquette had no
objection to having a royal suitor in her chains. In this she perfectly
succeeded; and the enamoured prince intimated his desire to Alguazil
that he would resign to him the possession of his mistress. But the
Morisco loved her too well; and neither threats nor promises of the most
extravagant kind were able to extort his consent. Thus baffled, the
reckless Aben-Humeya, consulting only his passion, caused the perhaps
not reluctant Zahara to be taken by force and lodged in his harem. By
this act he made a mortal enemy of Alguazil.
Nor did he long enjoy the favour of his new mistress, who, come of an
ancient lineage in Granada,[194] had hoped to share the throne of the
Morisco monarch. But Aben-Humeya's passion did not carry him to this
extent of complaisance; and Zahara, indignant at finding herself
degraded to the rank and file of the seraglio, soon breathed only a
desire for vengeance. In this state of things she found the means of
communicating with her kinsman, and arranged with him a plan for
carrying their murderous intent into execution.
[Sidenote: CONSPIRACY AGAINST ABEN-HUMEYA.]
The most important corps in the Morisco army was that of the Turkish
mercenaries. But they were so fierce and turbulent a race that
Aben-Humeya paid dear for their services. A strong body of these troops
lay on the frontiers of Orgiba, under the command of Aben-Aboo--a near
relative of the Morisco prince, whose life, it may be remembered, he had
once saved by submitting to every extremity of torture rather than
betray his lurking-place. To this commander Aben-Humeya despatched a
messenger, directing him to engage the Turks in a certain expedition,
which would serve both to give them employment, and to satisfy their
appetite for plunder.
The time named for the messenger's departure was communicated by Zahara
to her kinsman, who caused him to be waylaid and murdered, and his
despatches to be secured. He then had a letter written to Aben-Aboo,
which bore apparently the royal signature. This was counterfeited by his
nephew, a young man then holding the post of secretary to Aben-Humeya,
with whom he had lately conceived some cause of disgust. The letter
stated that the insubordination of the Turks made them dangerous to the
state; and that in some way or other they must be removed, and that
speedily. With this view, Aben-Aboo was directed to march them to
Mecina, on the frontiers of the Sierra Nevada, where he would be joined
by Diego Alguazil, with a party of soldiers, to assist him in carrying
the plan into execution. The best mode, it was suggested, of getting rid
of the Turks, would be by poison.
This letter was despatched by a courier, who was speedily followed by
Alguazil and a hundred soldiers, as the cunning conspirator desired to
present himself before Aben-Aboo without leaving him time for
consideration.
He found that commander in a state of the utmost perplexity and
consternation. Alguazil declared that he had come in consequence of
certain instructions he had received from the king, of too atrocious a
nature for him to execute. Aben-Aboo had as little mind to perform the
bloody work assigned to him. He had no distrust of the genuineness of
the letter. Hosceyn, the commander of the Turks, happening to pass the
house at that time, was called in, and the despatches were shown to him.
The fiery chief insisted on communicating them to some of his comrades.
The greatest indignation prevailed among the Turkish leaders, outraged
by this base treachery of the very man whom they had come to serve at
the peril of their lives. They one and all demanded, not his deposition,
but his death. Diego Alguazil saw that his scheme was working well. He
artfully fanned the flame, and professed to share deeply in the
indignation of the Moslems. It was at length agreed to put the tyrant to
death, and to offer the crown to Aben-Aboo.
This chieftain enjoyed a high reputation for sagacity and prudence. His
passions, unlike those of Aben-Humeya, seemed ever under the control of
his reason; and, far from indulging an ill-regulated ambition, he had
been always faithful to his trust. But the present temptation was too
strong for his virtue. He may have thought that, since the throne was to
be vacant, the descendant of the Omeyas had a better claim to it than
any other. Whatever may have been the sophistry to which he yielded, he
knew that those who now promised him the crown had the power to make
their promise good. He gave his assent on condition that, in the course
of three months, his election should be confirmed by the dey of Algiers,
as the representative of the Turkish sultan.
Having arranged their plans, the conspirators lost no time in putting
them in execution. They set out that very hour, on the evening of the
third of October, for Lanjaron, with a body of four hundred troops--one
half being Turks, the other Moriscoes. By midnight they reached their
place of destination. Diego Alguazil and the Turkish captains were too
well known as enjoying the confidence of Aben-Humeya to meet with any
opposition to their entrance into the town. Nor, though the Morisco king
had retired to rest, did the guard oppose any difficulty to their
passing into his dwelling. Proceeding to his chamber, they found the
doors secured, but speedily forced an entrance. Neither arm nor voice
was raised in his defence.[195]
Aben-Humeya, roused from sleep by the tumult, would have sprung from his
couch; but the faithless Zahara held him fast in her embrace, until
Diego Alguazil and some others of the conspirators, rushing in, bound
his arms together with a Moorish veil.[196] Indeed, he was so much
bewildered as scarcely to attempt resistance.
The Turkish commander then showed him the letter. Aben-Humeya recognized
the writing of his secretary, but declared that he had never dictated
such a letter, nor was the signature his. How far his assertion gained
credit we are not informed. But the conspirators had already gone too
far to be forgiven. To recede was death. Either Aben-Humeya or they must
be sacrificed. It was in vain that he protested his innocence, and that
he offered to leave the question to the sultan, or to the dey of
Algiers, or to any person competent to decide it. But little heed was
given to his protestations, as the conspirators dragged him into an
adjoining apartment. The unhappy young man perceived that his hour was
come--that there was no one of all his friends or menials to interpose
between him and his fate. From that moment he changed his tone, and
assumed a bearing more worthy of his station. "They are mistaken," he
said, "who suppose me to be a follower of the Prophet. I die, as I have
lived, in the Christian faith. I accepted the post of head of the
rebellion that I might the better avenge the wrongs heaped on me and my
family by the Spaniards. They have been avenged in full measure, and I
am now ready to die. Neither," said he, turning to Aben-Aboo, his
destined successor, "do I envy you. It will not be long before you will
follow me." He then, with his own hands, coolly arranged around his neck
the cord with which he was to be strangled, adjusted his robes, and,
covering his face with his mantle, submitted himself without a struggle
to his executioners.[197]
His body was thrown into a neighbouring sewer, with as little concern as
if it had been that of a dog. There it continued, till Don John of
Austria, hearing that Aben-Humeya had died a Christian, caused his
remains to be removed to Guadix, and laid in the ground with the
solemnities of Christian burial.[198]
That Aben-Humeya should have come to so miserable an end is not strange.
The recklessness with which he sacrificed all who came between him and
the gratification of his passions, surrounded him with enemies, the more
dangerous in a climate where the blood is hot, and the feeling of
revenge is easily kindled in the bosom. At the beginning of his reign
his showy qualities won him a popularity which, however, took no root in
the affections of the people, and which faded away altogether when the
defects of his character were more fully brought to light by the
exigencies of his situation; for he was then found to possess neither
the military skill necessary to insure success in the field, nor those
higher moral attributes which command respect and obedience at home.
[Sidenote: CHARACTER OF ABEN-ABOO.]
Very different was the character of his successor, Aben-Aboo. Instead
of displaying the frivolous and licentious tastes of Aben-Humeya, his
private life was without reproach. He was much older than his
predecessor; and if he had not the same fiery enthusiasm and dashing
spirit of adventure which belonged to Aben-Humeya, he discovered both
forecast in the formation of his plans, and singular courage in carrying
them into execution. All confided in his integrity; while the decorum
and gravity of his demeanour combined with the more substantial
qualities of his character to inspire a general feeling of reverence in
the people.[199] It was not till the time of his proposed elevation to
the supreme power, that the lustre of these qualities was darkened by
the perpetration of one foul deed,--his connivance at the conspiracy
against his sovereign. But if he were really the dupe, as we are told,
of Alguazil's plot, he might plead, to some extent, the necessity of
self-preservation; for he may well have believed that, if he refused to
aid Aben-Humeya in the execution of his bloody purpose in reference to
the Turks, the tyrant would not long suffer him to live in possession of
a secret so perilous to himself. At all events, the part he had taken in
the conspiracy seems to have given no disgust to the people, who, weary
of the despotism under which they had been living, welcomed with
enthusiasm the accession of the new sovereign. Many places which had
hitherto taken no part in the struggle for independence, now sent in
their adhesion to Aben-Aboo, who soon found himself the ruler over a
wider extent of territory than, at any time, had acknowledged the sway
of his predecessor.
It was not long before the confirmation of his election arrived from
Algiers; and Aben-Aboo, assuming the regal name of Muley Abdallah
Mohammed as a prefix to his own, went through the usual simple forms of
a coronation of a king of Granada. In his right hand on this occasion,
he bore a banner inscribed with the legend, "More I could not
desire--less would not have contented me."[200] Such an inscription
maybe thought to intimate that a more aspiring temper lurked within his
bosom than the world had given him credit for.
The new sovereign did not, like his predecessor, waste his time in
effeminate sloth. He busied himself with various important reforms,
giving especially a new organization to the army, and importing a large
quantity of arms and munitions from Barbary. He determined not to allow
his men time for discontent, but to engage them at once in active
service. The first object he proposed was the capture of Orgiba, a
fortified place, which commanded the route to Granada, and which served
as a point of communication between that capital and remoter parts of
the country.
Aben-Aboo got everything in readiness with such despatch, that on the
twenty-sixth of October, a few weeks only after the death of
Aben-Humeya, he set out on his expedition at the head of a
well-appointed army, consisting of more than ten thousand men, partly
foreign mercenaries and partly natives. Hastening his march, he soon
presented himself before Orgiba, and laid siege to the place. He pushed
matters forward so vigorously, that in a few days he was prepared to
storm the works. Four times he brought his men to the assault; but
though, on the fourth, he succeeded in throwing himself, with a small
body of troops, on the ramparts, he was met with such determined
resistance by the garrison and their brave commander, Francisco de
Molina, that he was obliged to fall back with loss into his trenches.
Thus repulsed, and wholly destitute of battering ordnance, the Morisco
chief found it expedient to convert the siege into a blockade.
The time thus consumed gave opportunity to Don John of Austria to send a
strong force, under the duke of Sesa, to the relief of the garrison.
Aben-Aboo, desirous to intercept his enemy's march, and occupy one of
those defiles that would give him the advantage of position, silently
broke up his encampment, under cover of the night, and took the
direction of Lanjaron. Here he came so suddenly on the advanced guard of
the Christians, that, taken by surprise, it gave way, and falling back,
after considerable loss, on the main body of the army, threw the whole
into confusion. Happily the duke of Sesa, though labouring at the time
under a sharp attack of gout, by extraordinary exertions was enabled to
rally his men, and inspire them with courage to repulse the enemy, thus
retrieving his own honour and the fortunes of the day.
Meanwhile, the brave Molina and his soldiers no sooner learned that the
besiegers had abandoned their works, than, eager to profit by their
temporary absence, the cause of which they suspected, they dismantled
the fortress, and, burying their guns in the ground, hastily evacuated
the place. The duke of Sesa, finding that the great object of his
expedition--the safety of the garrison--was now accomplished, and not
feeling himself in sufficient strength to cope with the Morisco chief,
instantly began his retreat on Granada. In this he was not molested by
Aben-Aboo, who was only too glad to be allowed without interruption to
follow up the siege of Orgiba. But, finding this place, to his surprise,
abandoned by the enemy, he entered it without bloodshed, and with
colours flying, as a conqueror.[201]
These successes in the commencement of his reign furnished a brilliant
augury for the future. The fame of Aben-Aboo spread far and wide through
the country; and the warlike peasantry thronged from all quarters to his
standard. Tidings now arrived that several of the principal places on
the eastern skirts of the Alpujarras had proclaimed their adherence to
the Morisco cause; and it was expected that the flame of insurrection
would soon spread to the adjoining provinces of Murcia and Valencia. So
widely, indeed, had it already spread, that, of all the Morisco
territory south of Granada, the country around Malaga and the sierra of
Ronda, on the extreme west, were the only portions that still
acknowledged the authority of Castile.[202]
The war now took the same romantic aspect that it wore in the days of
the conquest of Granada. Beacon-fires were to be seen along the highest
peaks of the sierra, throwing their ominous glare around for many a
league, and calling the bold mountaineers to the foray. Then came the
gathering of the wild militia of the country, which, pouring down on the
lower levels, now in the faded green of autumn, swept away herds and
flocks, and bore them off in triumph to their fastnesses.
Sometimes marauders penetrated into the _vega_, the beautiful _vega_,
every inch of whose soil was fertilized with human blood, and which now,
as in ancient times, became the battle-ground of Christian and Moslem
cavaliers. Almost always it was the former who had the advantage, as was
intimated by the gory trophies,--the heads and hands of the vanquished,
which they bore on the points of their lances, when, amidst the shouts
of the populace, they came thundering on through the gates of the
capital.[203]
[Sidenote: IMPETUOUS SPIRIT OF DON JUAN.]
Yet sometimes fortune lay in the opposite scale. The bold infidels,
after scouring the _vega_, would burst into the suburbs, or even into
the city of Granada, filling the place with consternation. Then might be
seen the terror-stricken citizens hurrying to and fro, while the great
alarm-bell of the Alhambra sent forth its summons, and the chivalry,
mounting in haste, shouted the old war-cry of _Saint Jago_, and threw
themselves on the invaders, who, after a short but bloody fray, were
sure to be driven in confusion across the _vega_, and far over the
borders.
Don John, on these occasions, was always to be descried in the front of
battle, as if rejoicing in his element, and courting danger like some
paladin of romance. Indeed, Philip was obliged, again and again, to
rebuke his brother for thus wantonly exposing his life, in a manner, the
king intimated, wholly unbecoming his rank.[204] But it would have been
as easy to rein in the war-horse when the trumpet was sounding in his
ears, as to curb the spirits of the high-mettled young chieftain when
his followers were mustering to the charge. In truth, it was precisely
these occasions that filled him with the greatest glee; for they opened
to him the only glimpses he was allowed of that career of glory for
which his soul had so long panted. Every detachment that sallied forth
from Granada on a warlike adventure was an object of his envy; and as he
gazed on the blue mountains that rose as an impassable barrier around
him, he was like the bird vainly beating its plumage against the gilded
wires of its prison-house, and longing to be free.
He wrote to the king in the most earnest terms, representing the forlorn
condition of affairs,--the Spaniards losing ground day after day, and
the army under the marquis of Los Velez wasting away its energies in
sloth, or exerting them in unprofitable enterprises. He implored his
brother not to compel him to remain thus cooped up within the walls of
Granada, but to allow him to have a real as well as nominal command, and
to conduct the war in person.[205]
The views presented by Don John were warmly supported by Requesens, who
wrote to Philip, denouncing, in unqualified terms, the incapacity of Los
Velez.
Philip had no objection to receive complaints, even against those whom
he most favoured. He could not shut his eyes to the truth of the charges
now brought against the hot-headed old chief, who had so long enjoyed
his confidence, but whose campaigns of late had been a series of
blunders. He saw the critical aspect of affairs, and the danger that the
rebellion, which had struck so deep root in Granada, unless speedily
crushed, would spread over the adjoining provinces. Mondejar's removal
from the scene of action had not brought the remedy that Philip had
expected.
Yet it was with reluctance that he yielded to his brother's wishes;
whether distrusting the capacity of one so young for an independent
command, or, as might be inferred from his letters, apprehending the
dangers in which Don John's impetuous spirit would probably involve him.
Having formed his plans, he lost no time in communicating them to his
brother. The young warrior was to succeed Los Velez in the command of
the eastern army, which was to be strengthened by reinforcements, while
the duke of Sesa, under the direction of Don John, was to establish
himself, with an efficient corps, in the Alpujarras, in such a position
as to cover the approaches to Granada.
A summons was then sent to the principal towns of Andalusia, requiring
them to raise fresh levies for the war, who were to be encouraged by
promises of better pay than had before been given. But these promises
did not weigh so much with the soldiers as the knowledge that Don John
of Austria was to take charge of the expedition; and nobles and
cavaliers came thronging to the war, with their well-armed retainers, in
such numbers that the king felt it necessary to publish another
ordinance, prohibiting any, without express permission, from joining the
service.[206]
All now was bustle and excitement in Granada, as the new levies came in,
and the old ones were receiving a better organization. Indeed, Don John
had been closely occupied for some time with introducing reforms among
the troops quartered in the city, who, from causes already mentioned,
had fallen into a state of the most alarming insubordination. A similar
spirit had infected the officers, and to such an extent, that it was
deemed necessary to suspend no less than thirty-seven out of forty-five
captains from their commands.[207] Such were the difficulties under
which the youthful hero was to enter on his first campaign.
Fortunately, in the retainers of the great lords and cavaliers, he had a
body of well-appointed and well-disciplined troops, who were actuated by
higher motives than the mere love of plunder.[208] His labours,
moreover, did much to restore the ancient discipline of the regiments
quartered in Granada. But the zeal with which he had devoted himself to
the work of reform had impaired his health. This drew forth a kind
remonstrance from Philip, who wrote to his brother not thus to overtask
his strength, but to remember that he had need of his services; telling
him to remind Quixada that he must watch over him more carefully. "And
God grant," he concluded, "that your health may be soon re-established."
The affectionate solicitude constantly shown for his brother's welfare
in the king's letters, was hardly to have been expected in one of so
phlegmatic a temperament, and who was usually so little demonstrative in
the expression of his feelings.
Before entering on his great expedition, Don John resolved to secure the
safety of Granada, in his absence, by the reduction of "the robber's
nest," as the Spaniards called it, of Guejar. This was a fortified
place, near the confines of the Alpujarras, held by a warlike garrison,
that frequently sallied out over the neighbouring country, sometimes
carrying their forays into the _vega_ of Granada, and causing a panic in
the capital. Don John formed his force into two divisions, one of which
he gave to the duke of Sesa, while the other he proposed to lead in
person. They were to proceed by different routes, and, meeting before
the place, to attack it simultaneously from opposite quarters.
[Sidenote: CAPTURE OF GUEJAR.]
The duke, marching by the most direct road across the mountains,
reached Guejar first, and was not a little surprised to find that the
inhabitants, who had received notice of the preparations of the
Spaniards, were already evacuating the town; while the garrison was
formed in order of battle to cover their retreat. After a short skirmish
with the rear-guard, in which some lives were lost on both sides, the
victorious Spaniards, without following up their advantage, marched into
the town, and took possession of the works abandoned by the enemy.
Great was the surprise of Don John, on arriving some hours later before
Guejar, to see the Castilian flag floating from its ramparts; and his
indignation was roused as he found that the laurels he had designed for
his own brow had been thus unceremoniously snatched from him by another.
"With eyes," says the chronicler, "glowing like coals of fire,"[209] he
turned on the duke of Sesa, and demanded an explanation of the affair.
But he soon found that the blame, if blame there were, was to be laid on
one whom he felt that he had not the power to rebuke. This was Luis
Quixada, who, in his solicitude for the safety of his ward, had caused
the army to be conducted by a circuitous route, that brought it thus
late upon the field. But though Don John uttered no word of rebuke, he
maintained a moody silence, that plainly showed his vexation; and, as
the soldiers remarked, not a morsel of food passed his lips until he had
reached Granada.[210]
The constant supervision maintained over him by Quixada, which, as we
have seen, was encouraged by the king, was a subject of frequent remark
among the troops. It must have afforded no little embarrassment and
mortification to Don John, alike ill-suited, as it was, to his age, his
aspiring temper, and his station. For his station as commander-in-chief
of the army made him responsible, in the eyes of the world, for the
measures of the campaign. Yet, in his dependent situation, he had the
power neither to decide on the plan of operations, nor to carry it into
execution. Not many days were to elapse before the death of his
kind-hearted monitor was to relieve him from the jealous oversight that
so much chafed his spirit, and to open to him an independent career of
glory, such as might satisfy the utmost cravings of his ambition.
One of the authorities of the greatest importance, and most
frequently cited in this book, as the reader may have noticed, is
Diego Hurtado de Mendoza. He belonged to one of the most
illustrious houses in Castile--a house not more prominent for its
rank than for the great abilities displayed by its members in the
various walks of civil and military life, as well as for their rare
intellectual culture. No one of the great families of Spain has
furnished so fruitful a theme for the pen of both the chronicler
and the bard.
He was the fifth son of the marquis of Mondejar, and was born in
the year 1503, at Granada, where his father filled the office held
by his ancestors, of captain-general of the province. At an early
age he was sent to Salamanca, and passed with credit through the
course of studies taught in its venerable university. While there
he wrote--for, though printed anonymously, there seems no good
reason to distrust the authorship--his famous "Lazarillo de
Tormes," the origin of that class of _picaresco_ novels, as they
are styled, which constitutes an important branch of Castilian
literature, and the best specimen of which, strange to say, was
furnished by the hand of a foreigner,--the "Gil Blas" of Le Sage.
Mendoza had been destined to the Church, for which the extensive
patronage of his family offered obvious advantages. But the taste
of the young man, as might be inferred from his novel, took another
direction, and he persuaded his father to allow him to enter the
army, and take service under the banner of Charles the Fifth.
Mendoza's love of letters did not desert him in the camp; and he
availed himself of such intervals as occurred between the
campaigns to continue his studies, especially in the ancient
languages, in the principal universities of Italy.
It was impossible that a person of such remarkable endowments as
Mendoza, the more conspicuous from his social position, should
escape the penetrating eye of Charles the Fifth, who, independently
of his scholarship, recognized in the young noble a decided talent
for political affairs. In 1538 the emperor appointed him ambassador
to Venice, a capital for which the literary enterprises of the Aldi
were every day winning a higher reputation in the republic of
letters. Here Mendoza had the best opportunity of accomplishing a
work which he had much at heart,--the formation of a library. It
was a work of no small difficulty in that day, when books and
manuscripts were to be gathered from obscure, often remote sources,
and at the large cost paid for objects of _virtu_. A good office
which he had the means of rendering the sultan, by the redemption
from captivity of a Turkish prisoner of rank, was requited by a
magnificent present of Greek manuscripts, worth more than gold in
the eyes of Mendoza. It was from his collection that the first
edition of Josephus was given to the world. While freely indulging
his taste for literary occupations in his intervals of leisure, he
performed the duties of his mission with an ability that fully
vindicated his appointment as minister to the wily republic. On the
opening of the Council of Trent, he was one of the delegates sent
to represent the emperor in that body. He joined freely in the
discussions of the conclave, and enforced the views of his
sovereign with a strength of reasoning and a fervid eloquence that
produced a powerful impression on his audience. The independence he
displayed recommended him for the delicate task of presenting the
remonstrances of Charles the Fifth to the papal court against the
removal of the council to Bologna. This he did with a degree of
frankness to which the pontifical ear was but little accustomed,
and which, if it failed to bend the proud spirit of Paul the Third,
had its effect on his successor.
Mendoza, from whatever cause, does not seem to have stood so high
in the favour of Philip the Second as in that of his father.
Perhaps he had too lofty a nature to stoop to that implicit
deference which Philip exacted from the highest as well as the
humblest who approached him. At length, in 1568, Mendoza's own
misconduct brought him, with good reason, into disgrace with his
master. He engaged in a brawl with another courtier in the palace;
and the scandalous scene, of which the reader will find an account
in the preceding volume, took place when the prince of Asturias,
Don Carlos, was breathing his last. The offending parties were
punished first by imprisonment, and then by banishment from Madrid.
Mendoza, who was sixty-five years of age at this time, withdrew to
Granada, his native place. But he had passed too much of his life
in the atmosphere of a court to be content with a provincial
residence. He accordingly made repeated efforts to soften his
sovereign's displeasure, and to obtain some mitigation of his
sentence. These efforts, as may be believed, were unavailing; and
the illustrious exile took at length the wiser course of submitting
to his fate and seeking consolation in the companionship of his
books,--steady friends, whose worth he now fully proved in the hour
of adversity. He devoted himself to the study of Arabic, to which
he was naturally led by his residence in a capital filled with the
monuments of Arabic art. He also amused his leisure by writing
verses, and his labours combined with those of Boscan and
Garcilasso de la Vega to naturalize in Castile those more refined
forms of Italian versification that made an important epoch in the
national literature.
But the great work to which he devoted himself was the history of
the insurrection of the Moriscoes, which, occurring during his
residence in Granada, may be said to have passed before his eyes.
For this he had, moreover, obvious facilities, for he was the near
kinsman of the captain-general, and was personally acquainted with
those who had the direction of affairs. The result of his labours
was a work of inestimable value, though of no great bulk--being
less a history of events than a commentary on such a history. The
author explores the causes of these events. He introduces the
reader into the cabinet of Madrid, makes him acquainted with the
intrigues of the different factions, both in the court and in the
camp, unfolds the policy of the government and the plans of the
campaigns--in short, enables him to penetrate into the interior,
and see the secret working of the machinery, so carefully shrouded
from the vulgar eye.
The value which the work derived from the author's access to these
recondite sources of information is much enhanced by its
independent spirit. In a country where few dared even think for
themselves, Mendoza both thought with freedom and freely expressed
his thoughts. Proof of this is afforded by the caustic tone of his
criticism on the conduct of the government, and by the candour
which he sometimes ventures to display when noticing the wrongs of
the Moriscoes. This independence of the historian, we may well
believe, could have found little favour with the administration.
It may have been the cause that the book was not published till
after the reign of Philip the Second, and many years after its
author's death.
[Sidenote: MENDOZA.]
The literary execution of the work is not its least remarkable
feature. Instead of the desultory and gossiping style of the
Castilian chronicler, every page is instinct with the spirit of the
ancient classics. Indeed, Mendoza is commonly thought to have
deliberately formed his style on that of Sallust; but I agree with
my friend Mr. Ticknor, who, in a luminous criticism on Mendoza, in
his great work on Spanish Literature, expresses the opinion that
the Castilian historian formed his style quite as much on that of
Tacitus as of Sallust. Indeed, some of Mendoza's most celebrated
passages are obvious imitations of the former historian, of whom he
constantly reminds us by the singular compactness and energy of his
diction, by his power of delineating a portrait by a single stroke
of the pencil, and by his free criticism on the chief actors of the
drama, conveyed in language full of that practical wisdom which, in
Mendoza's case, was the result of a large acquaintance with public
affairs. We recognize also the defects incident to the style he has
chosen--rigidity and constraint, with a frequent use of ellipsis,
in a way that does violence to the national idiom, and, worst of
all, that obscurity which arises from the effort to be brief.
Mendoza hurts his book, moreover, by an unseasonable display of
learning, which, however it may be pardoned by the antiquary, comes
like an impertinent episode to break the thread of the narrative.
But, with all its defects, the work is a remarkable production for
the time, and, appearing in the midst of the _romantic_ literature
of Spain, we regard it with the same feeling of surprise which the
traveller might experience who should meet with a classic Doric
temple in the midst of the fantastic structures of China or
Hindostan.
Not long after Mendoza had completed his history, he obtained
permission to visit Madrid, not to reside there, but to attend to
some personal affairs. He had hardly reached the capital when he
was attacked by a mortal illness, which carried him off in April,
1575, in the seventy-third year of his age. Shortly before his
death he gave his rich collection of books and manuscripts to his
obdurate master, who placed them, agreeably to the donor's desire,
in the Escorial, where they still form an interesting portion of a
library of which so much has been said, and so little is really
known by the world.
The most copious notice with which I am acquainted, of the life of
Mendoza, is that attributed to the pen of Inigo Lopez de Avila, and
prefixed to the Valencian edition of the "Guerra de Granada,"
published in 1776. But his countrymen have been ever ready to do
honour to the memory of one who, by the brilliant success which he
achieved as a statesman, a diplomatist, a novelist, a poet, and an
historian, has established a reputation for versatility of genius
second to none in the literature of Spain.