Chapter XXII: Termination of the Reconquest (3)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The mountaineer subjects of Al-Zagal regarded with anything but approval his renunciation of his rights of sovereignty and the zeal he displayed in the service of the national enemy. After the capture of Alhendin they rebelled, declared for Boabdil, and attempted the murder of the venerable monarch whom in the day of his glory they had honored with almost the reverence due to a divinity. Al-Zagal, well aware of what the consequences would be if he remained, signified his willingness to surrender the paltry dignity he had received in exchange for his abdication for five million maravedis and free transportation to Africa, which had been among the conditions of the treaty. Ferdinand eagerly accepted his proposition; the Moslem prince with a great following passed the sea; and thus the Spanish monarchy not only acquired a considerable increase of territory, but was delivered from a vassal who lacked only the provocation, which might at any time arise, to prove a most dangerous enemy. Nothing in mediæval history is more sad than the ultimate fate of this brave old warrior who had faced death with undaunted spirit on a hundred fields of battle. The perfidious Sultan of Fez, in ruthless violation of the laws of hospitality, plundered, imprisoned, and blinded him. The dashing general, who had once been the idol of the populace of Granada and the pride of its soldiery, wandered for many years a beggar, clad in rags, through the cities of Northern Africa, an object of pity and curiosity to the rabble of the Desert, by whom he was pointed out to strangers as the former King of Andalusia.

It was at this time that the Quixotic personage Pulgar, whose reckless spirit delighted in the achievement of hazardous undertakings, which, to men of rational judgment, seemed foolhardy and impracticable, performed the most noted and perilous of all his feats. With fifty followers he set out one night from Alhama to burn the city of Granada. Guided by a faithful renegade, the party remained concealed during the day in an obscure and unfrequented valley of the sierra, and, as darkness came on, they silently approached the walls enclosing the channel of the Darro until they reached a bridge. Under this, six were detailed to remain and guard the horses, while Pulgar and the others entered the city. The Moslem capital was plunged in slumber, and the adventurers, issuing from a sewer into the silent streets, proceeded to the principal mosque. There Pulgar, in a characteristic spirit of bravado, unfolded a paper on which was inscribed the legend, “Ave Maria,” and pinned it with his dagger to the bronze-plated door. Then hastening to the Alcaiceria, or Silk-Market, he produced a fagot with which he was provided and prepared to start the conflagration. At the last moment, it was discovered that the tinder, indispensable for this purpose, had been left at the mosque. While trying to strike fire with flint and steel, a patrol suddenly appeared. The Spaniards, drawing their swords, drove back the enemy, and, retiring to the spot where they had left their companions, all rode rapidly away. This exploit of Pulgar, which appealed so strongly to the romantic natures of his countrymen, gained for him also the admiring commendation of his sovereigns, who granted him during his lifetime the seat of honor in the cathedral choir, and at his death placed his tomb upon the very spot where he knelt to plant his dagger in the door of the great Moslem temple.

Everything now being in readiness for the final campaign, Ferdinand, on the twentieth of April, 1491, at the head of fifty thousand men in two grand divisions, again entered the Vega. The Marquis of Villena was despatched to the Alpujarras to destroy the provisions collected there for the use of the capital. Then the army went into permanent quarters in an intrenched camp near Granada, where it was soon joined by the Queen. On account of its great population, as well as the desire to preserve as mementos of conquest its splendid architectural monuments, it had been determined to reduce the city by famine. Parties were organized to scour the country in every direction and cut off all supplies. Frequent expeditions, made in force, swept for a radius of many miles every trace of verdure from the face of the land. The beautiful suburbs, which had hitherto been exempt from hostile violence, now became a prey to the ruthless destroyer. In vain, Boabdil, charging at the head of his cavalry, endeavored to stay his resistless progress. His soldiers were repulsed; his guard was cut to pieces; and he himself only escaped the evils of a second and a more disastrous captivity through the superior swiftness of his horse. The orchards and vineyards on the western side of the city were laid waste, and all the buildings within reach of the Spaniards--castles, mills, villas, palaces, and towers--were involved in one common destruction.

Two months after the resumption of hostilities, the carelessness of a servant of the royal household set fire to a tent; and the conflagration caused by the accident swept away in a few moments the entire Christian camp. Great confusion ensued; the troops were called to arms, and means at once taken to repel an attack should one be attempted; but the enemy remained quietly behind his defences. Any fallacious hopes that might have arisen in the minds of the Moors as a result of this catastrophe were soon dissipated. A substantial city, regularly laid out and fortified, guarded by ditches and gates, and provided with an ample square in the centre for the parade and exercise of troops, soon rose upon the site of the ruined encampment, and was named, with the characteristic piety of its founders, Santa Fé.

The siege of Granada, while one of the most important in the history of the Reconquest, was not, like many others, diversified by any incidents of absorbing interest. An occasional skirmish with indecisive results; a foray and the burning of some isolated castle; a chivalric encounter of knights challenged by mortal defiance; a perpetual succession of rounds and patrols,--such were the monotonous events which characterized the investment of the last Moslem stronghold. Every reliance was placed upon the blockade, and the use of heavy ordnance was not adopted at any time in the reduction of the city. The intrepidity of the Moslems was never more conspicuous than in this their final struggle for national existence. The rapid and terrifying evolutions, the wild and furious charge, the unsuspected and treacherous ambuscade peculiar to their tactics, were all employed with audacious courage and crafty resource, but with indifferent success. Before long, the great multitude within the walls began to experience the agonies of hunger. With want came discontent; with discontent, clamorous demands for capitulation, and ominous murmurs of sedition and violence. The infuriated populace swarmed in the public places, threatening the wealthy with pillage and the monarch with death. The prospect of the triumph of the odious infidel aroused the fanaticism of the santons, who, counselling resistance to the end, communicated their frenzy to their superstitious followers, thus vastly increasing the difficulties of the situation. Outside of the citadel anarchy reigned supreme. The doors of all the shops and houses were closed and barricaded. The nobles and the principal citizens took refuge in the Alhambra; and there an assembly of all those of conspicuous dignity and influence was held to determine on the course to be pursued. The vote was unanimous in favor of submission. Boabdil acquiesced in silence; and Abul-Kasim, the governor of the city, was deputed to visit the Christian camp in the character of envoy and open negotiations relative to surrender. Received with every mark of courtesy, the Moorish ambassador obtained at once the concession of a truce of thirty days’ duration from the first day of December. The articles of capitulation were much more liberal than any heretofore granted to the vanquished Moslems, but in their scope and significance there was a general similarity. Rendered wise by experience, the Moors endeavored to have the treaty guaranteed by the Pope, and its observance sworn to by the Spanish monarchs; but the omission of these doubtful warrants of security was obtained by the bribery of their commissioners, who quietly and successfully ignored the instructions of their countrymen. In consideration of the delivery of Granada and its surrounding territory, the Catholic sovereigns bound themselves and their royal descendants to forever permit the Moors to practise without molestation or injury the rites of their faith and the observances prescribed by their customs and their laws. Their mosques were to be always consecrated to their worship, and their sanctity was to be inviolate and never profaned by the presence of a misbeliever. All regulations relative to the collection of revenues for sacred purposes were to continue in force; Moslem judges were to preside in the tribunals; and the laws which governed the transfers of real property, as well as those of inheritance and every form of civil rights, were to remain unaltered. In regard to public instruction, absolute independence was solemnly guaranteed, and the interference of Christians with schools or with anything pertaining thereto was prohibited. Unqualified liberty of conscience was conceded to the children of mingled Spanish and Moorish blood; all debts and obligations previously incurred were to be faithfully discharged and all penalties exacted; disputes between Christian and Moslem were to be settled amicably by arbitration; and the alguazils and other executive officers appointed under the Moslem code were to discharge, without interruption, their various and respective duties. In other articles were embodied sanitary and police regulations,--the distinction of markets, the preservation and purity of the waters, and numerous matters of inferior importance arising from the dissimilarity of social customs and the wide divergence exhibited by the forms and ceremonies of two irreconcilable religions. In addition to these were certain provisions defining the rights and privileges conferred upon Boabdil and his relatives, and the enumeration of the possessions they were hereafter to enjoy. As a return for the invaluable services he had rendered his enemies at the expense of his country, the richest portions of the royal patrimony, embracing twelve extensive districts, were declared to be vested in perpetuity in himself and his descendants; all the members of his family received large estates; the Valley of Purchena was allotted to him as the principality for which he was to render homage; and an ample pension was added by the apparent gratitude or suspicious generosity of the conquerors.

On the second day of January, 1492, preparations were made for the relinquishment of the last vestige of Moslem power in the Spanish Peninsula. Seven hundred and eighty years had elapsed since the army of Tarik had shattered and overthrown the crumbling fabric of the Visigothic monarchy. As a result of that event, a handful of despised and neglected peasants, hidden in the mist-clad mountains of the North, had formed a nucleus around which had clustered the elements of a great nation and the fame and prestige of an invincible soldiery. The conquest just achieved, important as it was, was still but trifling in comparison with those which, in the succeeding century, were to be gained by the arms of that far-famed and chivalrous nation. The wealth of the Spanish Arabs was insignificant when contrasted with the incalculable treasures of Mexico and Peru. The capture of Malaga and Granada was almost inappreciable in national glory and political effect when compared with the battle of Pavia or the siege and sack of Rome. But it was still a magnificent triumph; the culmination of centuries of battle; the realization of the dreams of many generations of princes and prelates, the accomplishment of whose aims seemed often chimerical and hopeless. Every circumstance was called into play, every resource adopted, to make the spectacle of the rendition of the Moslem capital imposing and memorable. The entire army was drawn up in military array. The field was gay with waving banners, burnished armor, many-colored mantles, and surcoats of silk and cloth of gold. All the splendid chivalry of Castile were present; some, representatives of ancient and illustrious houses who traced their lineage back to the court of Roderick; others, whose patents of nobility of more recent date had been won in long and honorable warfare against the infidel. Among these were to be seen the white turban and striped burnous of the Arab, who would have resented the epithets of traitor and renegade, but who, actuated by inherited prejudice or tribal jealousy, had not hesitated to draw his sword against his brethren. Not less conspicuous than the nobles were the prelates, in full canonicals, preceded by Cardinal Mendoza, Primate of Spain, one of whose attendants bore the massive cross, still preserved in the Cathedral of Toledo, soon to be raised, symbolizing the triumph of Christian over Moorish superstition, on the loftiest tower of the Alhambra. The heralds who preceded the royal escort were dressed in tabards emblazoned with the arms of Castile and Leon in silver, gold, and scarlet. In the centre of a brilliant group came Isabella, attired in rich brocade and mounted upon a white palfrey, whose housings of embroidered velvet swept the ground.