CHAPTER XXI

THE LAST WAR WITH GRANADA

1475–1486

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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