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.