The passes of the Sierra Morena had been already occupied by the Moors when the Christian army approached that range of mountains which forms the northern boundary of the province of Andalusia. A shepherd, whom superstition has exalted into a saint, and whose familiarity with the depths of the Sierra is still represented as miraculous, was found, who guided the army through secret paths by the outposts of the enemy. On the lofty plains of Tolosa the two armies met to decide the fate of the Peninsula. The Moslems had slightly the advantage of situation and decidedly the superiority in numbers. In the centre of the Moorish camp, on a gentle elevation, was pitched the scarlet, silken tent of the Sultan, which, with its gold embroidery and fluttering pennons, was the most conspicuous object in the field. This position was protected by the baggage-wagons, which, united by a ponderous iron chain, encircled its base. In front of the hill, and defended by a ditch, was drawn up the Moslem infantry, whose want of steadiness and defective discipline the ingenuity of their officers had attempted to correct by the dangerous expedient of fastening the ranks together with ropes. The mailed soldiers were placed in the centre, and the swift and irregular Mauritanians on the flanks of the foremost line. A guard of black slaves covered the summit of the hill where sat the monarch, clad in a black and threadbare robe, revered as the sacred garment worn by the founder of his sect, with the Moslem symbols of conquest, the Koran and the scimetar, beside him. The Moorish order of battle did not differ greatly from that of Alarcos, and the experience of that day no doubt determined the adoption of an arrangement which had once been crowned with such brilliant success. Apparently the circumstances were more propitious to the invaders than those of the former contest. Their numbers were greater than those of the army of Yakub, the forces of the enemy probably nearly the same as before. Their position was much stronger and defended with more military skill. The sovereign was present to encourage the efforts and animate the zeal of his innumerable soldiery. The memory of two great victories—one so recent as to be still fresh in the minds of many in both armies, and each of which had imparted such glory to the Moslem cause—incited the soldiers of Mohammed to emulate the heroic exploits of Zallaca and Alarcos.
On the other hand, it was with feelings of sullen desperation that the Christians armed themselves at midnight for the decisive conflict of the morrow. They were not oblivious of the national and religious interests dependent on their constancy and their valor. Their allies, on whose support they had reckoned, had perfidiously deserted them. Their resources were exhausted. Unjustly, as the event demonstrated, yet not without foundation, suspicions of the fidelity of some in their ranks whose dispositions had once been hostile, and who had privately negotiated with the enemy, were entertained. The disastrous results of former contests, the present disadvantages of inferior numbers and position, even the most fervent exhortations of ecclesiastical zeal, were inadequate to remove or counteract. By the weird light of fires and torches the sacrament was administered to the Christian warriors, admonished by the activity of their enemies, whose sounds of preparation could be faintly heard from their distant camp. The officers received their final orders, and the troops were disposed in the array of battle. The right wing was commanded by Sancho, King of Navarre; the centre by Alfonso; the left wing by Pedro, King of Aragon.
The attack was begun by the Castilians, who with headstrong impetuosity rushed forward to storm the enemy’s intrenchments. They were received, however, with a courage worthy of their own, and their formation was shaken by the solidity of the Moslem ranks. Both armies soon became engaged; the Spanish mountaineers, inexperienced in warfare and sickened by the frightful carnage, took to flight; and the nobility were left, with momentarily diminishing numbers, to contend with the myriads of barbarians who threatened to overwhelm them. It was then that Alfonso, with his guards, plunging into the serried masses of the enemy, retrieved the failing fortunes of the day. The supplications and the threats of divine vengeance uttered by the ecclesiastics, who, attired in their sacred vestments and holding aloft the crucifix, intercepted the retreat of the mountaineers, caused them to rejoin their devoted comrades, whose valor awakened their admiration while it magnified their cowardice. The battle now raged with fury along the entire line. The Berbers, without reflection on the consequences, exposed their half-naked bodies to the swords of the Christian knights, whose armor received without impression the strokes of the missile weapons of the Desert. The slaughter of these wretched fanatics was appalling; but the places of those who fell were instantly supplied by others, who sought at the hands of the infidel the martyr’s death, which is a certain passport to the Moslem paradise. In the very crisis of the struggle, while victory was hanging in the balance, the day was lost by a flagrant act of treachery. The hajib of Mohammed, Saad-Ibn-Djiami, who exercised despotic influence over the feeble spirit of that monarch, had alienated the Andalusians by tyranny. The governors of the frontier castles taken by the crusaders had been treated with the greatest indignity by that official, and one, whose intrepidity had exacted even the admiration of an unfeeling foe, he had caused to be put to death by torture. The remonstrances of the Arabs of Andalusia were received with insult; they were declared inferior in rank and courage to the Almohades, and the hajib publicly announced that they would hereafter be assigned to the least honorable position on the march and in the face of danger. The double imputation of plebeian extraction and cowardice, a reproach as false as it was unwise, was deeply resented by the Andalusians, many of whose families traced their lineage beyond the era of the Prophet; their courage had been tested for centuries in the wars of the Peninsula, and it was they who had stormed the Christian camp at Alarcos and contributed far more than the Africans to the completeness of that splendid victory. Exasperated by the unjust treatment of the hajib, and not without reason apprehensive of the power such a tyrant would enjoy if successful, they resolved to sacrifice country, religion, independence, and honor to the vindication of their offended national dignity. At a signal from their commander they marched away from the field. The sudden withdrawal of a body of sixty thousand men produced a panic; the Moslem lines were shattered, and the terrified fugitives, entangled in the ropes to which the infantry had been attached, were thrown into hopeless confusion, and remained at the mercy of the Castilian cavalry. The efforts of the Christians were now directed towards the summit of the eminence crowned with the scarlet pavilion of the Sultan. For a brief period the squadrons of the Almohades held their ground, but the weight of the armored horsemen eventually proved too great for the lighter Africans; Sancho, at the head of the Navarrese, broke the chain which encircled the Moslem entrenchment, and the victory of Las Navas de Tolosa, forever afterwards famed in song and story, was lost and won. Mohammed, who, with the apathy of a fatalist, from his commanding position had viewed the rout of his army, fled with only four thousand followers. The butchery which ensued exceeded belief, and the most conservative estimate of the killed was a hundred thousand. Orders had been issued, in accordance with the merciless barbarity of the time, that whoever, for any cause, spared the life of a Moslem should himself be punished with death; and the naturally cruel instincts of the Spanish soldiery, exasperated by the remembrance of past reverses and by the losses resulting from a desperate resistance, scarcely required the incentive of fear to suppress the sentiments of humanity. From dawn to twilight the conflict had continued, four hours of that time being consumed in the pursuit and massacre. In the bloody field, surrounded by the evidences of their valor, the Christians were assembled, and a Te Deum was chanted by the prelates, who returned thanks to God for their unexpected deliverance. The greater part of the spoil was abandoned to his princely associates by Alfonso, whose pride was content with the glory of success; and well it might be, for Castile, hitherto an insignificant principality, was now destined to the enjoyment of more than imperial authority. The value of the horses and camels, magnificent robes, costly weapons, and gold and silver utensils was inestimable. For two days the Christian fires were lighted with the arrows and lances of the enemy, and even then the supply was far from exhausted. A portion of the massive chain which encircled the Sultan’s tent was carried to Pampeluna, where, as a votive offering, it is still suspended before the high altar of the Cathedral; and its emblem, “or, on a field gules,” was long conspicuous in the blazonry of the royal escutcheons of Spain, France, and Navarre.
CHAPTER XIX
THE PROGRESS OF THE CHRISTIAN ARMS
1212–1252
General Disorder in the Peninsula—Aggressive Policy of the Christians—Capture of Ubeda—Al-Mamun—Rise of Mohammed-Ibn-Hud—Merida taken by the King of Leon—Prosperity of Barcelona—Jaime I. of Aragon—Siege of Majorca—Terrible Sack of that City—Extinction of the Almohades—Siege and Capture of Cordova by Ferdinand—Valencia surrenders to the King of Aragon—Character of the Struggle between Christian and Moslem—Xativa—Its Prosperity—Murcia becomes the Property of Castile—Xativa acquired by Aragon—Death and Character of Jaime—Rise of the Kingdom of Granada—Its Wealth and Literary Culture—Ferdinand captures Jaen—-Mohammed-Ibn-Ahmar, King of Granada, renders Homage to Ferdinand—Seville invested by the Castilians—Great Strength of that City—Its Obstinate Defence—It is reduced by Famine—Character of Ferdinand the Saint.
The weakness of a sovereign and the arrogance of a tyrannical minister, provoking the defection of the Andalusian commanders, had decided the fate of the Saracen empire in Spain. Other disasters, apparently as serious, had been retrieved by the able emirs, generals, and statesmen who from time to time controlled the policy of that empire in the Peninsula. Other successes, not less brilliant, had been neutralized by the indecision, the incompetency, the national prejudices, or the personal rivalry of the conquerors. The battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, however, was one of the most decisive of the great struggles in which the Christian and the Moslem powers of the West contended for imperial supremacy. An interval of five centuries—a period signalized by almost incessant hostility—separates it from the field of the Guadalete. During that time a great monarchy had arisen, had reached the summit of military renown, literary excellence, and scientific culture, and had fallen, dragging with it the imposing fabric of civilization erected at such cost and under such favorable auspices as to encourage the hope that through the influence of its beneficent institutions and from the glorious example of its success might be effected the thorough and permanent regeneration of Europe. The khalifate had been succeeded by an era of anarchy, persecution, ruin. The fairest provinces of the Peninsula had been repeatedly abandoned to the savage hordes of the Sahara and to the equally ferocious warriors of the North. More than once, in the pursuit of their common prey, these fierce invaders, dissimilar in all the physical characteristics which distinguish the different races of humanity, yet strangely alike in the mental instincts peculiar to the unlettered and superstitious barbarian, who respects no influence but that of superior force, and despises every profession but that of arms, had encountered each other on fields of terrific battle. Amidst the confusion engendered by perpetual conflict, the individuality of the region which once was the centre of the Ommeyade empire was lost. Its provinces, sufficiently extensive and opulent to be ranked as kingdoms, were subdivided into scores of insignificant principalities. The imperial metropolis,—the centre of Faith, the destination of the pilgrim, the home of art and poetry, the emporium of commerce,—stripped of her honors and her wealth, was degraded to the position of a provincial city. Every district had its sovereign, every town its court, every castle its lord. National unity, so difficult to establish and preserve among a people whose traditions were based upon tribal prejudice and individual independence, now became utterly impossible. With each influx of foreigners came fresh cause for discord. The energies of the innumerable rulers, who, through superior address or more propitious fortune, had obtained the government of the Peninsula, instead of being directed to their mutual preservation were utilized for each other’s discomfiture. Alliances were formed with the infidel. Important fortresses were unhesitatingly surrendered to secure his favor. His garrisons were introduced into strongholds in the very heart of the Moslem territory. The Koran and the crucifix were carried side by side in campaigns against loyal and orthodox sectaries of Mohammed. In spite of the danger of familiarizing the Christian enemy with the position and strength of their defences, in spite of the well-known duplicity of that enemy in dealing with adversaries of another creed, a policy utterly subversive of national autonomy was encouraged. The fatal passions of the Desert, dormant for many centuries, revived with tenfold vigor. The relentless spirit of vengeance dominated every other feeling. A chieftain whose dominions embraced but a few square miles, whose castle was perched upon some isolated peak, and whose army numbered a few hundred banditti, cared not so much for the plunder by which he lived as for the destruction of his neighbor. The powerful emir, who governed great cities and aspired to the most grandiloquent titles of royalty, indulged without restraint his hereditary instincts of national, sectional, or tribal hatred. In vain wise statesmen, whose sagacity predicted the impending downfall of the Moslem power, represented the necessity for organization against the common foe. With sorrow those in whom the feelings of public spirit and pious zeal were not extinguished saw principality after principality enriched with the spoils of Moorish cities and, sustained by the aid of Moorish tribute, exalted to the rank of Christian kingdoms. With an apathy peculiar to those blinded by prejudice, the more bigoted partisans viewed the foundation and growth of a new state which, after many vicissitudes and reverses, having fixed its capital at the mouth of the Tagus, soon equalled in influence and wealth the more ancient kingdoms of Leon, Castile, and Aragon. Instead of there being one direction from which to expect the enemy, he now descended on every side. The Moslem territory was completely surrounded. The limits of that territory were annually contracting. The great naval powers of Italy dominated the Mediterranean. They were intimately connected with the Christian sovereignties of Spain; their aid had been conspicuously instrumental in effecting the capture of Almeria; their fleets were at the disposal of the Holy See, from which now issued bull after bull summoning the Faithful to new crusades in the Peninsula. Principally through this impulse, the armies of the Spanish princes were largely recruited from the most brutal and degraded populations in the world. Of these, returned adventurers from Palestine and outlawed bandits from England, France, and Italy formed no inconsiderable proportion. Such was the totally unprincipled character of these allies, that they did not hesitate, when opportunity offered, to plunder those in whose service they had voluntarily enlisted. Under such circumstances, the ferocity of the conflict, already sufficiently violent, was intensified. The use of torture became more frequent. The massacre of prisoners on the eve of a retreat became a popular method of disposing of such encumbrances to flight. Familiarity with scenes of horror, continued through many generations, has left an indelible impress on the character and demeanor of the Spaniard, whose name was long a synonym for cruelty.
The want of mutual co-operation among the Christian states prolonged for more than a century the Moslem domination in the south of Spain. The Emirate of Saragossa, distracted by intestine quarrels, was the first northern principality to succumb to the encroachments of its warlike neighbors. Then followed the opening of the Ebro to the sea, the conquest of the Algarves, or Portugal, the further extension of the frontier of Castile. Repeated forays obliterated the vegetation of vast districts which had once exhibited the marvellous results of Moorish industry. The massacre or deportation of large communities destroyed in an hour what it had required centuries to create,—a numerous and thrifty population. The Arabs, whose genius had developed the civilization of the Khalifate of Cordova, had been exterminated by civil war or absorbed by the barbarian multitudes which swelled to enormous numbers the annual tide of African immigration. As has already been many times remarked, the principles of the Moslem polity were naturally and necessarily antagonistic to permanent political union. So long as similar conditions prevailed among the Christians, the fabric of Moorish power, however shaken, was apparently secure. But as soon as factions which divided the population of the various kingdoms were reconciled, as soon as those kingdoms, instead of being arrayed against each other, presented an unbroken front to the common enemy, the decayed edifice of Moslem grandeur crumbled into dust. The victory of Las Navas was the starting-point of a new era. From it dates the real power of the Spanish monarchy, whose states, not yet united, but governed by valiant and energetic princes, now first began to exhibit indications of that portentous influence destined subsequently to overshadow the continents of America and Europe. A great advance was made by the kingdom of Castile after the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa. It at once assumed a higher rank in the society of nations. New lustre was imparted to its name. Increased prestige became the portion of its sovereign. Alfonso sent to Rome the tent, the lance, and the standard of the Sultan,—trophies, considering that they typified the destruction of Moslem power in the West, of great and far-reaching significance. The glory of the achievement was purely national. It was shared by no foreigners. The allies, from whom so much had been expected, had basely retired in the face of the enemy, and the contest had been decided by Spanish skill and Spanish valor. Henceforth the policy of the Christians was aggressive; their forces, consolidated and fighting under the same banners, were no longer dissipated in domestic feuds or wasted in the fruitless conflicts of rival interests. The importance of the victory is demonstrated by the fact that it was the first decisive step in the triumphal march which conducted the Christian arms from the banks of the Tagus to the walls of Granada.
After a halt of three days, the victorious army proceeded southward. Baños and Tolosa fell into its hands. At its approach the people of Baeza evacuated that city in terror. The mosque was occupied by wounded fugitives from the battle-field of Las Navas, who had resorted to its precincts as to a sanctuary, hoping that the cruelty of their pursuers would respect the sacred character of the edifice where they had sought an asylum. Their expectation was vain. The mosque, with its helpless inmates, was at once set on fire and consumed. Then the Christians besieged Ubeda. This city was one of the most flourishing and populous in Northern Andalusia. Refugees from Baeza had increased the number of its inhabitants to nearly a hundred thousand. Its defences were strong, its garrison was brave, but Italian engineers in the service of Castile mined its walls and opened a practicable breach. Apprehensive of the consequences of an assault, the Moors endeavored to negotiate for safety. In exchange for the unmolested possession of their homes and the practice of their religion, they offered a million maravedis of gold. These terms were agreed to by the Christian princes, whose power, nominally paramount, was in fact subordinated to the authority of the clergy, already accustomed to dictate the policy of courts and the movements of armies. The dignitaries of the Church in a body protested against such indulgence to infidels. Their pious remonstrances prevailed, and the treaty, which had already received the assent of both parties, was revoked. Another was then framed by which the Moslems were allowed to peaceably evacuate the city, with the privilege of retaining their personal effects. The ransom which they themselves had suggested was required as a preliminary security, and the delay in its payment afforded a plausible excuse for the exercise of violence. The cupidity of the prelates and the soldiers was aroused by the sight of the accumulated wealth of a thriving community now in their grasp, and the signal was secretly given for outrage and massacre. In the frightful scenes that followed, sixty thousand of the inhabitants of Ubeda perished under the most aggravating circumstances of lust and cruelty; the remainder were condemned to servitude; the portable wealth was appropriated by the conquerors, and the place itself was utterly destroyed. The occupation of the city by the Saracens dated from the invasion of Tarik. From that time it had never been besieged by a Christian foe. It contained a large number of Jews, whose property, amassed by generations of traffic and extortion, made a welcome addition to the spoils of war. Its great extent was an alleged reason for its destruction, for the King of Castile is said to have stated as the motive of such vandalism, “We should never have had people enough to inhabit it.” Such were the deeds sanctioned by the clergy and perpetrated under the direction of royal champions of the Faith, by whose instrumentality the Christian religion was re-established in the Peninsula.
The capture of Ubeda closed a campaign which, so gloriously begun, might, if vigorously pursued, have driven the disorganized and terror-stricken Moslems into the sea. But to the Christian soldiery the only valuable advantage to be obtained from any victory was a temporary release from the restraints of discipline. The orgies which accompanied the taking of Ubeda greatly impaired the effectiveness and diminished the numbers of the invading army. Debauchery and disease soon avenged the misfortunes of the Moslems. Thousands, chafing at the confinement of the camp and anxious to enjoy the fruits of their prowess, openly deserted. The pious enthusiasm of the King of Castile was abated by the discouraging circumstances of his situation; his scruples were removed by the casuistry of prelates whose zeal had been cooled by the lion’s share of the booty, and the crusade which had recently threatened with conquest the whole of Andalusia was postponed to a more convenient and propitious opportunity.
The Sultan Mohammed quitted with the utmost celerity the country which had been the scene of his humiliation and defeat. After appointing his son, Yusuf-Abu-Yakub, to the succession, he retired to the seclusion of his palace, where with the solace of wine and beauty he endeavored unsuccessfully to forget the failure of his aspirations and the destruction of that army whose numbers had not inaptly been compared to the sands of the Desert for multitude. His end is said to have been hastened by poison administered by the officials of the court, who saw, with disgust and apprehension, a reign begun with every prospect of success and glory unprofitably and ignominiously prolonged in the midst of personal degradation and national misfortune.