HOW THE MOORS WERE SUBJUGATED.
The Castilian court was established at Cordova, where Isabella and
Ferdinand received the swarms of courtiers and noble knights with
brilliant retinues, as well as foreign ambassadors, who swarmed hither
to do homage to the Spanish sovereigns. And, though Christian and
Moslem were still at enmity, the turbaned Arab, the warlike Saracen,
with scimitar at his side, might be seen among the assembled thousands
in the busy streets of Cordova. For, although an eternal barrier
existed between these two peoples in their respective religions,
and mutual hatred may have smouldered in their bosoms, yet they met
and freely mingled, even intermarried, exchanged courtesies and
compliments, and engaged in friendly jousts and tourneys.
But the time came when this strained condition of affairs was
suddenly changed, about the year 1478. The Moorish dominions, which
once extended practically over all Spain, were now reduced to a single
great province, or kingdom, that of Granada. Yet it was a fertile and
populous province, comprising the best and most beautiful lands in
the peninsula, with deep and rich valleys hidden among forest–clad
mountains, the peaks of some of which reached the clouds and were
covered with perpetual snows. The capital of this kingdom was founded
by the Moors soon after their first arrival from Africa, in the eighth
century, near the remains of a Roman town called Illiberis. It had
grown in wealth and population, until, at the time of which we speak,
it probably contained 400,000 inhabitants, and was surrounded by
massive walls fortified with numerous towers.
Granada the capital consisted of two cities within one line of
fortifications, the portion known as the _Albaicin_, perched on a
hill, and containing the marts and dwellings of the common people,
and the hill of the Alhambra, separated from the Albaicin by a deep
gorge through which flows the river Darro. Here, about the year 1248,
the founder of the Granadan dynasty, Ibn Alhamar, began to build that
glorious palace, the Alhambra, which was completed by his grandson,
Mohammed III, seventy years later. Within the surrounding walls
defended by ninety towers the king held court, with a retinue that
constituted the nucleus of a small town in itself. The founder of the
Alhambra assembled here artists and artisans from every part of the
Moslem world: from Damascus and Bagdad, Cairo and Morocco; and their
genius here evolved one of the most beautiful structures ever created
by man. Who has not read of the beautiful Alhambra, with its pillared
corridors, its assemblage of marble and alabaster columns, its halls
and _patios_ refreshed by plashing fountains, its cornices mazes of
arabesques, its latticed windows, iridescent tiles, perfumed courts and
gardens; and above all, its peerless situation, overlooking Granada,
the Darro, the vast meadows of the _vega_, and with a background of
cloud–capped, snow–crested mountains, shining in the sun?
More than two centuries had passed since Ibn Alhamar intrenched himself
within the Alhambra walls, and purchased exemption from Christian
assaults by the payment of tribute. It was just before the capture of
Seville by Ferdinand the Saint that he bound himself and his people to
serve the Christians as vassals, and, in consideration that his rich
territory should be undisturbed, pay an annual tribute of two thousand
_doblas_ of gold and sixteen hundred Christian captives, or the same
number of Moors to serve as slaves. Less than three hundred years
before (as we may recall) it was the Christians who paid tribute, and
in the halls of the _Alcázar_, at Seville, were assembled the Christian
maidens, shamelessly given over to the rapacious Moors. Now, however,
the tide had turned, and the founder of the last Moslem dynasty on
Spanish soil was glad to avert the possible loss of his kingdom by
surrendering a tithe of his possessions to the Christians. Still, each
ruler maintained his armies, and a state of armed neutrality existed.
Two centuries of comparative peace had broadened and strengthened the
Moorish kingdom until it embraced a portion of south–eastern Spain
estimated as containing more than eleven thousand square miles, with a
population of three millions, including one hundred thousand valiant
men of war. The natural resources of the country were enhanced by
irrigation, at which the Orientals are so expert, canals and aqueducts
supplied the cities and plains with water, and trade with Africa, and
with the Christians of Spain, brought great wealth into the kingdom.
The King of Granada, at the time the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella
united the thrones of Aragon and Castile, was one Muley Aben Hassan,
a descendant in direct line of the founder of the Alhambra, and when
he succeeded his father, Ismael, he found himself ruler over no less
than fourteen fortified cities and nearly one hundred towns, as well
as many castled hamlets and villages. This fierce warrior, taking
account of his vast possessions, refused longer to pay tribute to the
Castilian sovereigns, and in the year 1478 a noble knight, Don Juan
de Vara, was sent to Granada to demand it. He was admitted, with his
retinue of cavaliers, and found King Muley Hassan seated on his royal
divan, within the Alhambra, in the spacious Hall of the Ambassadors. He
was received with courtesy, but when he named his errand Muley Hassan
haughtily replied: “Tell your sovereigns that the Kings of Granada who
used to pay tribute in money to the Castilian crown are dead! Our mint
at present coins nothing but blades of scimitars and heads of lances!”
Now, the name of Granada signifies in Arabic a pomegranate; and when
King Ferdinand received this insolent answer from the Moor he quietly
replied, “It is well; I will pluck the seeds from this pomegranate,
one by one!” and he began preparations for reducing the Moorish
strongholds. But he was not to strike the first blow, for the old
King of Granada, confident in the wealth of his provinces and the
strength of his defences, and urged on by his fiery soldiery, led an
army against an isolated frontier post of the Christians called Zahara.
It was naturally so strong, being perched upon a craggy crest of a
mountain, that its garrison neglected to keep watch, and, one dark and
stormy night, was surprised and put to the sword. The wretched captives
taken in the town below were driven like cattle to Granada; and thus in
the year 1481 the gauntlet of war was thrown down by Muley Hassan, King
of the Moors.
King Ferdinand was willing enough to take it up; in truth, had the
Moors not taken the initiative, war would have eventuated just the
same, for the one darling project of the Christian sovereigns was the
expulsion of the Arabs from the country. But yet again the Christian
king was forestalled, though this time it was by one of his own
cavaliers. The valiant Marquis of Cadiz, Roderigo Ponce de Leon, who
owned vast estates in Andalusia, and could assemble a small army of his
own retainers, resolved to avenge Zahara and strike a terrible blow at
the Moors. Informed by his spies that the Moorish town and castle of
Alhama, in the mountains of Granada, were but carelessly defended,
he gathered together a small force of cavalry and foot soldiers, and,
surprising the garrison and scaling the walls, took both castle and
town by storm.
Alhama was known as the “Key of Granada,” and was not many miles
distant from the capital itself; it also was the richest town of the
kingdom, and the Marquis of Cadiz and his soldiers secured a vast
amount of booty, besides taking many captives. But their position was
now perilous in the extreme, for when Muley Hassan learned the news
he raged like a tiger and immediately set forth to retake Alhama with
an army of fiercest warriors. The sufferings of the Spanish soldiers
were intense, for they were cut off from water, attacked on every
side, and allowed no rest; but succour came to them from an unexpected
source. The Duke of Medina Sidonia—like the Marquis of Cadiz, owner
of vast possessions and lord over an army of dependants, although an
hereditary foe of the latter—collected a large force and hastened
to the assistance of his beleaguered brethren. King Ferdinand also
turned toward the scene of war; but, outstripped by the Duke of Medina
Sidonia, halted on the way at Antiquera, and there began the assembling
of an army, to follow up the advantage so unexpectedly gained by his
ardent knights and soldiers.
Thus the immediate effect of this daring assault and reprisal was the
joining together in friendly rivalry of two powerful lords who had
hitherto been at enmity, and the union of many other rivals in arms, so
that Ferdinand soon found himself in command of forces sufficient for
the accomplishment of his long–cherished designs against the Moors.
Meanwhile there were strife and dissension in the capital city of
Granada. The ill–timed assault upon Zahara was deprecated by the Moors,
even before their loss of Alhama, and eventually King Muley was driven
from the city during a revolt headed by his own son, Boabdil el Chico.
The grief and indignation of the Moorish populace of Granada are
depicted in a popular Spanish poem, with its sad refrain, “_Ay de mí,
Alhama!_” and which Lord Byron rendered into English verse, beginning:
“The Moorish king rides up and down
Through Granada’s royal town;
From Elvira’s gates to those
Of Vivarambla on he goes.
Woe is me, Alhama!
“Letters to the monarch tell
How Alhama’s city fell;
In the fire the scroll he threw,
And the messenger he slew.
Woe is me, Alhama!”
The aged Muley Hassan was expelled, but he returned a few weeks later,
and, gaining the Alhambra, made the fountains and corridors run with
human blood in his endeavours to regain his crown. But in vain: Boabdil
el Chico was then King of Granada, and it was foreordained that his
weakness should be the cause of its downfall; for, in an assault he
later made upon a Christian castle, he was taken prisoner and only
released after promising to hold himself a vassal to King Ferdinand.
Meanwhile the contest spread over a widening territory, until all the
kingdom was aflame with war.
King Muley Hassan, who had retreated to the port of Malaga, made a
raid into the dominions of the Duke of Medina Sidonia, in revenge for
the part the latter had taken at Alhama, and regained his stronghold
with vast plunder. An incident of this raid shows a romantic trait of
Moorish as well as Spanish character. Old Muley asked some captive
Christians what were the revenues of his opponent, Don Pedro de Vargas,
captain of the castle of Gibraltar, whose territory he was then
invading. They answered that he was entitled to an ox out of every
drove of cattle that crossed his boundaries. “Then,” said the gallant
old Moor, “Allah forbid that so brave a cavalier should be defrauded
of his dues,” and he selected twelve of the finest cattle and sent
them to Don Pedro with his compliments. The latter, surprised and
touched by this display of gallantry, reciprocated by sending Muley
Hassan a scarlet mantle and a costly vest of silk, with his regrets
that he had not been able to meet him personally in the field!
Stung by this successful raid of the Moors into the heart of Christian
territory, some cavaliers, headed by the Marquis of Cadiz and Don
Alonzo de Aguilar, made a foray into the mountains of Malaga, expecting
to take and sack several wealthy towns. But they were ambuscaded
by a Moorish army under the veteran Zagal, of Malaga, and not only
vanquished, but nearly exterminated, a miserable remnant only escaping
to Antiquera, on the borders of Granada. In the meantime a siege of the
wealthy city of Loxa, which lies not far from Granada, was abandoned by
King Ferdinand on account of the superior tactics of another Moorish
veteran, Ali Atar, father–in–law of Boabdil the king, and more than
ninety years of age. He, too, led the Spaniards into an ambuscade, and
then set upon them with such vigour that their camp was captured and
many Christians slain.
So the demon of war stalked up and down the land, with victory first
with Spaniard, then with Moor. Still, all the time the Spanish forces
were augmenting, their territory being steadily extended by the capture
of one stronghold after another, until, when King Ferdinand again sat
down before the city of Loxa with a vast army, well equipped with
cannon and foreign auxiliaries, he could count up more than seventy
places that had fallen before the assaults of his soldiers. Among these
were Coin and Cartama, and the almost inaccessible castle of Ronda, on
the crest of the mountain of that name. Loxa (pronounced Lo´ha) finally
fell, and then the victors were within thirty miles of the capital,
Granada, against which Ferdinand’s forces were impatient to be led.
But though the ill–fated Boabdil, King of Granada—who had violated
his pledge of vassalage to Ferdinand, and had hastened to the defence
of the city—was among the captives, and though later the Castilians
captured the important towns and castles of Illora and Moclin, within
ten or twelve miles of Granada, yet the army was temporarily withdrawn.
Ferdinand ravaged the _vega_, or plain of Granada, up to the very gates
of the capital; but he was at that time unprepared to attempt its
capture or siege, and so retired with his army to Cordova, whence he
had set forth in May of that year.
The next year (1487), early in the spring, a mighty army might have
been seen leaving Cordova, composed of twenty thousand horse and fifty
thousand foot. Its destination was Malaga, the Mediterranean seaport,
sometimes called the “hand and mouth of Granada”; for it was the outlet
of the province, through which its trade was conducted, and also
through which assistance came from the Moslems in Africa. Isabella
and Ferdinand had received information that the Oriental infidels in
Turkey and Egypt were preparing to make a landing here, and come with a
vast army to the assistance of the last of their faith in Spain. So it
was excellent strategy to first dispose of this opulent seaport, with
its towers of defence, its large and hostile population, and adjacent
tributary country, before marching upon the capital. The siege of
Malaga was prolonged many months by the valour of its defenders. In the
grim old tower above the city, the ruins of which may still be seen, a
grizzled warrior, Hamet el Zegri, held out the longest, with a handful
of warriors who had already tasted Christian blood at Ronda and other
places; but finally he too was obliged to capitulate, and was cast into
a dungeon.
From the ransoms of the Moors of Malaga Ferdinand probably derived
a larger amount than the Romans received from the Carthaginians,
fourteen hundred and eighty years before. Many unfortunates, who could
not pay the extortionate sums demanded, were carried off into slavery,
to the number of more than ten thousand.
The cities of Guadix and Baza suffered in their turn the fate of
Malaga, and at last Almeria, the final refuge of that brave, fierce
son of Africa, El Zagal, an uncle of Boabdil, and yet his bitterest
enemy. With his surrender the last of Granada’s outlying provinces also
fell into the hands of the enemy, and the old warrior went over into
Africa, where he was imprisoned by the King of Fez and ended his life
in poverty.
During the ensuing winter Ferdinand was busy with preparations for the
final attack upon the capital. He had, in truth, plucked out nearly all
the “seeds” of Granada, “the pomegranate”; the time was now ripe for
finishing the fruit. In his acknowledgment of vassalage, Boabdil had
stipulated that, should the chances of war give to the Christians the
cities of Baza, Guadix, and Almeria, he would surrender Granada itself,
accepting other and inferior towns in exchange. But when the demand
came for his compliance, he at first hesitated, then shut himself up
within the city and bade the king defiance.
So it was, in April, 1491, that the Spanish army, fifty thousand
strong, again appeared in the _vega_ of Granada, and was soon encamped
so near the city walls that the soldiers could hear the cries of the
_muezzins_, as they sent forth the Moslem calls to prayer.
[Illustration]