History of the Moorish Empire in Europe, Vol. 2 (of 3)

by S. P. Scott

Illora and Moclin soon shared the fate of Loja. Their vicinity to Granada, affording the greatest facilities for reinforcement and relief, the vital importance of their possession, located, as they were, almost at the gates of the capital, and practically controlling its approaches, their stupendous defences, especially those of Moclin, which almost rivalled in strength the walls and towers of Ronda, did not prevent Boabdil from basely abandoning these keys of the Vega to the Christian enemy. In vain were messengers repeatedly despatched to implore the help of their countrymen. The King, a prey to conflicting emotions, hesitating between fear of the Spaniards and apprehension of domestic violence, remained insensible to the appeals of his beleaguered subjects, who, resisting the besiegers with every resource within their power, cursed the destiny that had placed them in the hands of such an unworthy sovereign. During the siege of Moclin, a tower containing the magazine was blown up by a fire-arrow, and the surrender was precipitated by this casualty, which not only killed many soldiers, but deprived the survivors of an indispensable means of defence. The campaign was concluded by the voluntary submission of Montefrio and Colomera, and by a foray through the Vega marked by the pitiless devastation that always accompanied these expeditions.

The series of disasters which continued to afflict the Moslem cause, and to suggest the imminence of the final catastrophe in which everything would be lost, began, when too late, to arouse public feeling against Boabdil, who, blind to the dangers that menaced him, saw from his palace his nominal allies storming his cities and wasting his territory with fire and sword. Especially violent was the fury of Al-Zagal, who, realizing that nothing short of the death of his nephew could mitigate the evils that harassed the kingdom, adopted every expedient to accomplish that object. His emissaries sought opportunities to stab or poison Boabdil, but in vain. Foiled in his attempts, the fierce old veteran wreaked his vengeance without pity on all the principal adherents of the adverse faction who fell into his hands. His machinations in the absence of Boabdil, who remained at Velez el Blanco under treatment for the wounds he had received at Loja, so increased the public discontent at Granada that the authority of the absent King was in danger of being undermined in his own stronghold, the Albaycin. To counteract these intrigues, Boabdil one night suddenly appeared before a gate of that riotous quarter of the city. His arrival was the signal for the renewal of the fratricidal strife which had already decimated the ranks of the Moorish nobles, and sacrificed to the rancor of partisan hostility the bravest youths of the kingdom. National misfortunes, the subject of mutual accusation and reproach, had intensified the hatred of both factions; the war now became one of extermination; quarter was neither asked nor expected; the wounded were killed as they lay, and every prisoner was despatched without mercy. From the streets, reeking like a shambles with the horrible butchery, the conflict was transferred to the Vega. Entire days were consumed in these scenes of horror, until the combatants, exhausted by their efforts, but not satiated with bloodshed, retired to their quarters to recuperate their failing strength. In all these encounters the adherents of Al-Zagal had the advantage, but the crafty old King, desirous of sparing his soldiers, determined to reduce his enemy by siege. A strong intrenchment was drawn around the Albaycin, and the inhabitants, whose allegiance to their sovereign had already been shaken by the apathy he evinced during the public distress, in addition to the evils of warfare, were now threatened with the sufferings of famine. The general disaffection, no longer concealed, threatened the sacrifice of an obnoxious ruler to the public peace, when Boabdil anticipated this treasonable intention by an act which has condemned his name to everlasting disgrace. The aid of the Christians was invoked to sustain his tottering throne; and Don Fadrique de Toledo, governor of the frontier, advanced without delay, at the head of a considerable force, to maintain the pretensions of the nominal ally, but actual dupe, of the astute and unprincipled Ferdinand. The instructions given to all the Spanish commanders forbade the weakening of either faction to such an extent as to endanger the equilibrium of the balance of power, which, carefully maintained during the ruthless struggle, must eventually prove fatal to both parties and result in the complete disintegration of the monarchy. Don Fadrique therefore amused each prince in turn with the prospect of negotiation and alliance, alarming both and assisting neither, until their mutual exasperation was again excited to the verge of frenzy, when he quietly withdrew. But the enthusiasm of Boabdil’s partisans, largely feigned and artificial, vanished with the departure of the Spaniards. The merchants and artificers of the Albaycin were weary of the ruinous interruption of their trade, and the majority of the inhabitants of that quarter of the city, long the scene of insurrection and bloodshed, began to turn towards Al-Zagal in the hope of security and peace. The tidings of this revulsion of feeling alarmed the scheming diplomats of the Spanish court, and measures were at once taken to counteract it. Martin Alarcon, Governor of Moclin, and Gonsalvo de Cordova, Governor of Illora,—afterwards famous as the Great Captain, and now fast rising to distinction among the Castilian commanders,—both eminent for tactical genius and intrepidity, were secretly admitted with a body of picked men into the Albaycin. The gold with which they were abundantly provided proved more attractive to the mercenary populace of Granada than loyalty to king or love of country. Multitudes hastened to enlist; a few hours were sufficient to collect a force respectable in numbers, if not in character and discipline; and the discouraged Boabdil, with the appearance of prosperous fortune secured at the expense of national honor and personal integrity, was again able to indulge the hope of gratifying his furious and insatiable thirst for vengeance and of maintaining the precarious existence of his ephemeral power. The introduction of armed Christians within the walls of the Moorish capital was, of itself, to many reflecting Moslems a most inauspicious omen. But when to this was added the dishonorable reason for their presence, the fact that the hereditary sovereign of the Alhamares had implored against his own countrymen the support of enemies, who, for seven hundred years, had pursued his race with all the rancor of theological hatred and national hostility, and was employing the gold donated by the Christian infidel to secure the doubtful allegiance of men who, degraded by every abject vice, were equally insensible to the influence of personal merit or patriotic principle, the portent became still darker and more menacing. The degradation of the contemptible Boabdil was now complete. Nothing of which he might hereafter be guilty could add to the overwhelming measure of his infamy. He had already sacrificed the welfare of his country to retain a kingdom which he had neither the capacity to govern nor the resolution to defend. He was now putting his subjects up at auction, and tempting them to assist in their own enslavement by the acceptance of money furnished by foes who aspired to become their masters. Supine in every emergency requiring action, he only displayed energy in furthering the designs of those who struck at the independent existence of his people, the permanence of his dynasty, and the retention of his crown.

It was not characteristic of Al-Zagal to witness unmoved the treacherous introduction of enemies into the heart of his capital. Strong detachments were summoned from Baza and Guadix, sharp-shooters were stationed on the roofs of houses within range of the Alcazaba, the streets were obstructed by barricades, and all attempts of the Spaniards to penetrate into the city having been repulsed, the scene of hostilities was transferred to the suburbs, where, for two months, with varying success, the two factions indulged to satiety their thirst for blood, expended in daily encounters the strength which, judiciously applied, would have repelled the common enemy, and prosecuted, to the exultant satisfaction of the Christians, the war of extermination, which insured to the latter the ultimate triumph of their power. It was in vain that the citizens most eminent for wealth and position, appalled by the enormities they were daily compelled to witness, endeavored to stem the tide of slaughter and anarchy. Some of these were impelled by sincerely patriotic sentiments, others by simulated indignation assumed to gratify the sordid motives of personal ambition and private interest. Among the latter were many santons, or ascetics, who, in addition to the reverence attached to their calling, exercised among the populace the pernicious influence of the demagogue. In this class the emissaries of Ferdinand found most ardent and efficient supporters, who greedily accepted the gold which was to be the price of their treason. No greater proof of national decadence can exist than that thus exhibited by the corruption of spiritual guides who have voluntarily assumed the vow of poverty, and yet are willing to barter for the bribes of an enemy the peace and honor of their country and the maintenance of its religious faith. Those partisans of Boabdil who amidst the general distress had been fortunate enough to preserve intact a portion of their possessions were induced to remain steadfast in their allegiance by fallacious promises of exclusive commercial privileges with the Christian kingdoms of the Peninsula, promises which were conveniently forgotten when the time arrived for their fulfilment. To further confirm the timid in their adherence to an unpopular and unpatriotic cause, the severest penalties were denounced against all who wavered in their allegiance to Boabdil, or in any way assisted the opposite faction, which was not only secretly regarded by the Christians themselves as the exponent of Moorish nationality, but was recognized by the better class of the population of the kingdom as representative of the remaining dignity of the Alhamares and the rallying point of the Moslem power. Having expended their treasure and secured the continuance of the suicidal strife so necessary to the successful realization of the designs of their sovereign, the Spaniards retired from Granada.

The attention of the Moors having been thus distracted from the operations of Ferdinand by their frenzied efforts at mutual destruction, the Christian army, assembled at Archidona, took up its march for the South with a view to the conquest of Velez. This city, situated on the mountain slope within a quarter of a mile of the sea, possessed the advantages of commanding the roads to Granada and the coast, and was considered the key of Malaga. Fortified with great strength, and inaccessible to heavy artillery on account of the rugged nature of the country, it had long been celebrated as the head-quarters of the most audacious and savage troopers who visited with their desolating presence the fertile plains of Andalusia. In addition to its walls and its citadel,—one of the strongest in the kingdom,—its suburbs, which were of great extent, were protected by extensive works and by ditches impassable by cavalry. A league away, on the very summit of the mountain, was Bentomiz, a fortress whose proximity might prove dangerous to a besieging army, and whose approaches were so difficult as almost to defy attack.

The arrival of the Spaniards was followed by a skirmish, where the King, exposed to great danger, behaved with his habitual intrepidity, and by his heroic example saved his followers from defeat. The next day, six hours of constant fighting were required to dislodge the Moors from the suburbs, where a sharp hand-to-hand contest was maintained as far as the walls of the city. Every effort was now exerted to hasten the advance of the siege-train. The progress of the latter was exceedingly slow. It was found necessary to construct roads for its passage through a region hitherto traversed only by steep and dangerous paths. Only the smaller pieces could be transported at all, and the lombards, whose effectiveness had been felt in every previous campaign, were left at Antequera. But three miles a day could be accomplished owing to these obstacles, to which was added the danger of surprise from the enemy, who was constantly hovering above on the sierras, and whose chain of fires at night illumined the horizon for many a league. The uncertainty of the event, the perils with which he was surrounded, and the caution born of costly experience, impressed upon Ferdinand the necessity of maintaining a rigorous discipline. The freebooting character of the Spanish levies, accustomed for generations to the uncontrolled exercise of military license, rendered the enforcement of such a measure an undertaking of extreme difficulty. But the iron will of the King, supported by the co-operation of his principal commanders, proved equal to the task. Drunkenness, gambling, and fighting were severely punished. No one was permitted to engage the enemy without authority from his superior. Rapine and incendiarism were sternly repressed. Vicious persons of both sexes were expelled from the lines. The adoption of these regulations, enforced by the summary execution of a few offenders, effected a remarkable transformation in the manners of the soldiery, and quiet and order began to reign in the camp, which, but a short time before, had been the scene of riot, insubordination, and boisterous revelry. Such a sudden and complete metamorphosis was without parallel in the history of European armies. The severe discipline established by Ferdinand before Velez laid the foundation of the celebrity for steadiness in battle subsequently attained by the armies of Spain. The efforts of Gonsalvo de Cordova and his illustrious comrades and successors in perfecting the system inaugurated by their sovereign, maintained and improved that high state of efficiency which carried the arms of Castile and Aragon over two worlds in an uninterrupted career of victory and conquest.

In the mean time, while the loss of the southern portion of the kingdom was imminent, the murderous hostility of the contending parties in Granada continued unabated. Anarchy, in its most dreadful form, prevailed throughout the entire capital. The streets, the scene of daily encounters, were strewn with the dead. In every home were the signs of conflict, in every household the melancholy evidences of bereavement and distress. All trade was at an end. The city was a prey to outlaws. Reputation for the ownership of gold and jewels was equivalent to a sentence of death. The ruffian soldiery, cruel, sensual, and rapacious, intruded unchallenged into the private apartments of the most noble families of the kingdom. Even the retired precincts of the harem, sacred and inviolate in the eyes of every sincere believer, were not respected. Female virtue was sacrificed to the licentious passions of those whose first duty was to defend it. Every dwelling that promised a rich return was plundered. In these deeds of rapine and bloodshed the partisans of the mean-spirited Boabdil were disgracefully conspicuous. To such extremes of ignominy was that prince driven to earn the support and approbation of perfidious allies, only to eventually merit the contempt and abhorrence of posterity.

The pugnacious instincts of Al-Zagal were aroused by the new invasion of his enemies which menaced his supremacy on the coast. But scarcely able to maintain his ground against his nephew in the Albaycin, he was in no condition to successfully contend with the numerous and well-appointed squadrons of Castile. He was justly fearful that his absence would be immediately followed by the triumph of his adversary and his permanent exclusion from the capital; in his perplexity he made overtures for peace. His patriotic suggestion that all Moslems should unite and expel the enemy from their borders was rejected with scorn by Boabdil, who insulted with opprobrious epithets the age and dignity of his uncle, and, recounting in detail the attempts to murder him, declared that his desire was not for reconciliation but for vengeance. Apprehensive of misfortune, yet unable longer to withstand the importunity of his counsellors, who realized the disastrous consequences which must ensue from the fall of Velez, and confident that his success would insure the ruin of his rival, whose authority was more dependent on the pecuniary aid of the Christians than on the attachment of his adherents, Al-Zagal summoned all the troops at his disposal, and, leaving the city secretly, prepared to surprise the Spaniards in their intrenchments. His army, though formidable in numbers, was far from being equal in efficiency and prowess to those he had formerly led to victory. His bravest followers, the flower of the chivalry of Granada, and the fierce horsemen of the Desert, whose impetuosity and prowess had so often prevailed over the seasoned veterans of Castile, had fallen in the bloody encounters provoked by the treason and the enmity of Boabdil or had perished by the hand of the assassin. His partisans, with the exception of a few detachments drawn from the district still faithful to his cause, were composed of raw levies, most of them mere boys, unaccustomed to discipline, and unfamiliar with military evolutions and the practice of warfare except as they had been learned in the melancholy school of civil discord and in the sanguinary riots which daily polluted with the blood of unarmed citizens the streets of the Moorish capital. Such were the inadequate means with which Al-Zagal was about to confront the most thoroughly organized and equipped force which had ever served under the banners of the Spanish monarchy. Immense bonfires on the mountain peaks announced to the Christians the approach of the enemy. A reconnoissance soon revealed his identity. The capture of a scout to whom the plan of a midnight attack had been imprudently intrusted enabled Ferdinand to defeat the project of his adversary. The designs of Al-Zagal, though conceived with his usual sagacity, were not executed with the vigor and caution which had previously characterized his operations. Traitors in the pay of the Spaniards lurked in his camp, and his intended movements were hardly planned before they were communicated to the enemy. It was the intention of the Moorish king to destroy the siege-train, which, loaded on fifteen hundred carts, had at last been brought with infinite toil to a spot two miles from Velez. Isolated from the main body of the army, with its guard unsuspicious of danger, a nocturnal surprise would probably have insured its destruction, and, as an inevitable consequence, have compelled the retirement of the besiegers. The scout who had been taken was on his way to Velez to detail the plan and obtain the co-operation of the garrison at the signal of an immense fire to be kindled on the highest peak of the sierra. At the appointed hour the beacon blazed forth against the sky, and the Moslem battalions moved silently forward. As soon as they were fairly involved in the labyrinth of lanes and shaded avenues traversing the suburbs, they were assailed on all sides by overwhelming numbers of the enemy lying in ambush. The suddenness of the attack precipitated a panic. The darkness prevented organized defence, retreat was intercepted, and the Moors were exposed for hours to the deadly fire of foes who fought in comparative security under the shelter of trees and hedges. The cries of the combatants filled the air; the repeated flashes of musketry lighted up the field, revealing the heaps of the dead and dying; the desperate charges of the Moors failed to pierce the lines of the Christians,—indeed they were hardly able in the dense obscurity of an unfamiliar locality to even determine their position; and the contest begun under such disadvantageous conditions for those who had themselves planned a surprise terminated in a massacre. The din of battle reached the city, and the garrison attempted a sortie. The prudence of Ferdinand had anticipated this movement, however, and the Moors, advancing to the relief of their countrymen, were driven back into their fortifications. The first light of dawn fell upon the broken remnant of the Moslem army, which, to the number of more than twenty thousand, had the evening before covered the sierra, and whose soldiers, magnified by the uncertain light of myriads of fires into gigantic spectres, seemed to threaten with annihilation the Spaniards encamped in the valleys far below. Those who survived were scattered everywhere through the mountains, and so complete was their dispersion that the Christians could not realize at first the extent and importance of their victory, nor was it until the discovery of countless weapons abandoned in the hurry of flight and the reports of scouts who had seen the crowds of fugitives had reassured them, that they ventured to relax the unusual vigilance assumed through apprehension of a ruse, or were convinced that a host of well-armed warriors could vanish thus like mist before the rising sun. This overwhelming rout practically decided the fate of the kingdom of Granada. It invested with new and extraordinary prestige the reputation of the Spanish sovereigns. The influence of Boabdil, the discredited hireling and tool of the Castilian court, had long ceased to be formidable. The power of Al-Zagal as a disturbing factor in the hopeless struggle for national existence was forever destroyed. The old monarch, after his defeat, fled to Almuñecar. While journeying from there to Granada, he learned that the mob of that city had risen and declared for his nephew, who was then in possession of the Alhambra, and that such of his own partisans as had not been able to escape had been decapitated without ceremony. Accompanied by a slender escort, the melancholy remnant of that valiant African guard which had participated in the glory and plunder of so many campaigns, Al-Zagal betook himself to Guadix, henceforth to be the capital and centre of his restricted and enfeebled sovereignty.

The result of the battle was, in a double sense, unfavorable to the people of Velez, cooped up within the walls of the doomed city. They had seen their hopes of deliverance dashed to pieces in an instant. On one side could be discerned parties of the enemy collecting the weapons cast away by their kinsmen in their nocturnal flight. On the other, saluted by the cheers of thousands, the long train of heavy carts bearing the artillery against which recent experience had demonstrated the strongest defences were of no avail came in view, guarded by a numerous body of cavalry, winding through the mountains for a distance of many leagues. Not until the ordnance was in sight would the inhabitants of Velez credit that the successful transportation of such ponderous masses of iron through the mountains was possible. It was their first experience of invasion. Their warriors had repeatedly carried fire and sword into the territory of the enemy. Their streets had been frequently obstructed with the spoil of the border foray. Their dungeons were even then crowded with Christian captives. The fair complexions of the children in the harems indicated the offspring of many a Sabine wedding. But never, during the long centuries of the Reconquest, had a hostile force been marshalled before their gates, and rarely had the hated banner of the infidel been seen from the summits of their towers. Dispirited by the prospect, absolutely destitute of hope, aware that a stubborn resistance would only render the terms of capitulation more severe, unable alone to cope with a veteran army of seventy thousand men, abundantly provided with every improved appliance known to the science of the age, subject to the strictest discipline and fighting under the eye of its sovereign, the people of Velez, before the batteries had been planted, despatched envoys to negotiate for surrender. Every consideration consistent with the usages of war was shown to the Moors by the politic Spaniards, who desired, by this example of leniency, to provide in the future for the easy prosecution of other conquests. Secure in the possession of their liberty and their personal effects, the Moslems of Velez were permitted to seek homes in Africa or to become the tributary subjects of the crown, on condition of not bearing arms or holding communication with their countrymen at war with the Spanish monarchy. The practice of their religious rites, the use of their language, and the unmolested enjoyment of their customs were solemnly assumed, an obligation which, like many similar ones, eventually vanished before the ingenious casuistry of the Holy Office. Before leaving the camp, the Catholic sovereigns issued an order granting protection to the subjects of Boabdil, allowing them to till their lands, to resume their mercantile pursuits, and to purchase without hindrance in the Spanish kingdoms such commodities as they might require. Proclamation was also made that all towns and cities within the jurisdiction of Al-Zagal which should voluntarily surrender within six months should receive the most ample privileges heretofore conceded to any place that had tendered its submission, and threatening all such as might prove recalcitrant with the direct consequences which the savage customs of the time might either authorize or inflict.

And now the iron hand of Christian power, menacing, resistless, inexorable, whose advance never slackened, whose grasp never relaxed, extended itself towards the beautiful city of Malaga. Celebrated from the highest antiquity for its picturesque surroundings, for its wealth, for the attractions of its women, for the enterprise of its citizens, for the unusual advantages conferred by its situation, which made it the seat of an immense commerce, in the fifteenth century that city divided with Almeria the lucrative trade of the Western Mediterranean. The keen sagacity of the Phœnicians had early recognized its maritime importance. Carthage inherited its dominion, and long maintained there the agencies and the warehouses of her most opulent merchants. Under the Romans it enjoyed the highest prosperity, but it was reserved for the Spanish Arabs to develop to the utmost the mineral and agricultural wealth of its territory, and to extend the commerce of Malaga to the most remote and inaccessible countries of the Orient, to every port whose location or communications promised a profitable return. Its defences were of the strength demanded by the interests of a great international emporium. Walls of extraordinary height and thickness encompassed the entire circuit of the city. Within this line of circumvallation the different quarters and suburbs, in accordance with Moorish custom, were themselves strongly fortified. One of these was inhabited by the Jews, who, always enjoying unusual privileges under the Moslems, had prospered in the congenial atmosphere of Malaga, which fostered their trading instincts and aspirations until their colony had become in number, in wealth, and in distinction second to none of similar character in Europe. The tolerant and enlightened policy of the Moors had assigned to the enterprising Genoese another suburb which was designated by their name. The extensive and varied commercial relations of that republic were thus intimately connected with those of the principal seaport of Granada. Through its portals constantly passed a vast and growing traffic, which bartered the commodities of every country for the silks, the weapons, the jewelry, the gilded pottery, and the delicious fruits of Spain. The great factories of the merchants of the Adriatic, who at that time possessed the larger share of the carrying trade of the world, lined the crowded quays of Malaga, and their flag was always the most conspicuous among the ensigns of the maritime nations whose vessels rode at anchor in the bay. In their private life the Genoese residents of Malaga exhibited a sybaritic luxury which might vie in pomp and elegance with that of royalty itself. Their palaces were of great extent and of surpassing magnificence. Buried in groves of odoriferous trees, brightened by beds of gorgeous flowers, cooled by innumerable rivulets and fountains, they combined all the ingenious devices of the Moorish landscape-gardener with the taste and symmetry of classic Italy. The most exquisite creations of the Arab artificer in tiles and stucco, in gold and silver, in porcelain and in embroidered tapestry, decorated their apartments. Retinues of swarthy, turbaned slaves obsequiously waited to do the bidding of their masters. Mysterious eunuchs glided silently through the splendid halls. Long familiarity with the customs of their voluptuous and infidel neighbors had erased the memory and the reverence associated with the country of their birth, so closely connected with the Holy See, to such an extent that their disregard of ancient traditions and their laxity of faith might not unjustly merit the imputation of heresy. In the homes of many were lovely concubines, some the spoil of marauding expeditions on the Andalusian border, others purchased by their fastidious masters in the distant markets of Africa and the East.

The Atarazana, a great dock-yard and arsenal provided with every facility for the construction and repair of shipping, occupied one side of the harbor. Its portals of polished marble and jasper were formed by horseshoe arches of an elegance that rather suggested the tranquillity of a sacred shrine than the noise and bustle inseparable from an edifice devoted to the purposes of trade and war. Embracing an area of more than eighteen thousand square feet, it was one of the most notable constructions of the kind in the world. While no ships were actually built within its precincts,—these works being carried on at the adjacent mole and quays,—it contained, nevertheless, all the material and equipment necessary for the completion of every kind of craft. Immense quantities of naval supplies and munitions of war were stored in its ample magazines. It was approached by many gates on the sides towards the city and the sea, but the massive wall which protected its western exterior disclosed no opening which might tempt the attack of an alert and daring enemy. The government of the Atarazana was committed to an officer of high rank, whose post was one of great responsibility, as a large portion of the city was at the mercy of its garrison. For the benefit of the thousands of workmen employed there a mosque was provided, from whose minaret, at the hours designated by the Moslem ritual, the muezzin regularly called the faithful to prayer.