The general aspect of the city was strikingly Oriental,—in the narrow and tortuous streets, often covered by awnings to exclude the heat or spanned by arches; in the sombre dwellings whose frowning walls were occasionally broken by narrow, projecting lattices; in the bazaars, each allotted to a special branch of commerce, where transactions involving the expenditure of great sums were concluded in an apartment scarcely exceeding the dimensions of a modern closet; in the mosques, with their glittering minarets; in the baths, with their ever-moving, ever-changing crowds; in the long strings of camels, each one tied to the croup of his leader, laden with every variety of merchandise; in the groups of richly apparelled ladies, escorted by female slaves and scowling eunuchs; in the confusing babel of a thousand tongues, was faithfully reproduced the picturesque life of Cairo, Bagdad, and Damascus. Moorish Malaga was the most cosmopolitan of cities. No restrictions were laid upon her trade, no vexatious or humiliating conditions attached to a residence within her walls. She numbered among her inhabitants natives of every clime. In her markets were exposed for sale the products of the most widely separated countries of the globe. In her port, after the occupation of Almeria, whose mercantile supremacy was never restored, was centred the foreign commerce of Mohammedan Spain. The merchants of Fez and Alexandria, of Bassora and Teheran, mingled in her thoroughfares and markets with representatives of every nation of Christian Europe. The intimate relations of the city with Genoa had more than once called forth the indignant protests of Castile to the Papal Court and the government of Italy. The silk manufacture of Granada, the beauty and excellence of whose stuffs modern skill has never been able to equal, owed its marvellous development to the maritime facilities afforded by Malaga. The weaving of this delicate product, furnished in incredible quantities by the peasantry of the kingdom, was one of the most important branches of industry pursued in the city. The great buildings where it was carried on rivalled in extent the famous establishments of Almeria, once the centre of the silk manufacture in Europe. The superior quality and harmony of colors that characterized the tissues and brocades that came from the hands of the Malagan artificers gave them a peculiar value, and enabled them to readily command extravagant prices in foreign markets.
Not for the fabrication of silks alone was Malaga famous. Her glass and paper, her utensils of iron and copper, the complex and elegant labors of her cabinet-makers and joiners, enjoyed a wide and deserved celebrity. Here also were made the gilded pottery and the stamped and enamelled leather, the knowledge of both which processes completely disappeared with the dominion of the Spanish Arabs.
In the number and profusion of its agricultural products Malaga was excelled by no city in the temperate zone. Its location, like that of Granada, afforded every degree of temperature and every variety of climate. But it possessed in this respect many advantages over the capital. Lying further to the south its air was milder, and its breezes were tempered by its proximity to the sea. The greater volume of moisture in the atmosphere was more favorable to the labors of the cultivator of the soil, and insured greater fertility. Frost was unknown, and the sugar-cane and other exotics grew with a luxuriance almost tropical. The adjacent hills were not then denuded of vegetation, but covered with groves of olives, mulberries, and chestnuts. The elaborate system of hydraulics perfected by the Moors conducted everywhere the sparkling waters of the mountain streams. There was no fruit or vegetable at that time known to horticulture that was not grown in the vicinity. Ibn-Beithar, the most distinguished botanist of the Middle Ages, and who may be said to have been largely instrumental in the foundation of that science, was a native of the city. His knowledge of plants, obtained by years of travel and study in foreign lands, had enriched the flora of his country with many additions useful for their culinary or medicinal properties. Modern medicine owes much to Ibn-Beithar, who was also an eminent physician, for his valuable contributions to the pharmacopœia.
During the Moslem domination the view of Malaga from any point was most enchanting. From Velez to Fuengirola, a distance of more than forty miles, the coast exhibited an unbroken series of fig plantations. Farther back, covering the slopes of the sierra, were groves of oranges and pomegranates. The vineyards were the most extensive, and the grapes the most luscious, of Moorish Spain. Their vintage was of superior excellence, and no small portion of it was consumed by those whose religion condemned the use of wine as an unpardonable sin. The belt of frowning gray walls which enclosed the city was relieved by the palm-trees which at frequent intervals overtopped them. The mountains in the rear were enveloped in a haze of mingled tints of crimson, orange, and violet. On the southern horizon, the sapphire blue of a sky without a cloud blended almost imperceptibly with the deep ultramarine of the sea. Viewed at a distance, the white buildings with their red roofs nestling in a wilderness of verdure whose foliage displayed every tint of green, the harbor dotted with hundreds of snowy sails, the numerous mosques with their elegant towers encrusted with glittering tile-work, the palaces of the noble and the wealthy decorated with all the caprices of Moorish architecture, and each surrounded by spacious and shaded grounds, the boundless profusion of limpid and refreshing waters, bearing fertility to every garden and comfort to every household, the interminable plantations of every fruit that contributes to the sustenance and enjoyment of man, all presented a landscape whose counterpart probably did not exist in the most favored regions of the habitable world. The walls, which enclosed an area almost circular in form, were strengthened by a hundred and twelve towers. Far above the city on an isolated promontory stood the fortress of the Alcazaba, and the Gibralfaro, or citadel. The former was constructed on the slope of the declivity, and, though of great extent and massive defences, was still but an outwork of the Gibralfaro. The position of the latter was such as to bid defiance to any military engines or ordnance at the command of the captains of the fifteenth century. The steep and rugged escarpment of the cliff below it made successful assault impossible. It could not be mined. The angle at which the artillery of a besieging army must be trained was such as to render its fire ineffective. No means could therefore be successfully employed to reduce its garrison except starvation. The water-supply was obtained from numerous cisterns and from a remarkable well a hundred and forty feet in depth. Subterranean passages hewn through the living rock, whose existence was known to but few and which now survive only in well-authenticated tradition, connected the Alcazaba and the Gibralfaro with the city. These two castles were enclosed by walls of unusual height and solidity. No stronghold in Europe during the Middle Ages was better adapted to resist an enemy than the Gibralfaro,—its difficulty of access, its intricate approaches, and the prodigious strength of its fortifications rendering it practically impregnable.
The inhabitants of Malaga, notwithstanding their generally cosmopolitan character, prided themselves upon the purity of their Arab blood. The literary history of the time abounds in accounts of their intelligence, their wit, and their attachment to science and letters. Their charity and benevolence have been celebrated by every Moslem writer who has had occasion to examine their characteristics or to describe their virtues. The desperate and protracted defence they offered the army of Ferdinand is convincing evidence of their bravery and patriotism. But, on the other hand, they were impetuous to a fault, irascible, unrelenting, and treacherous, ever ready to take offence, ever slow to forgive, jealous to an extreme bordering on insanity, and anxious to settle the most trivial dispute by an appeal to arms. Every vice familiar to a prosperous and voluptuous community was practised at Malaga. The drunkenness of its inhabitants was so common as to be proverbial, and the fact that its occurrence aroused so little comment is indicative of the popular indulgence with which a custom abhorrent to the rules of the Koran was regarded. The integrity of the merchants was not beyond suspicion; their reputation was better for shrewdness than for honesty; and the remarkable cheapness of many of the commodities retailed by peddlers is said to have been due to the fact that they were stolen from the markets.
The capture of this great city was a matter of vital importance to the Castilian cause. Not only was it of paramount necessity, but the difficulties attending the project rendered it by no means certain of a favorable termination. An enterprise of such magnitude had never before been attempted by Ferdinand. The great population, its warlike spirit, the facility with which supplies might be introduced by sea, the enormous dimensions of the walls, were all important factors to be considered before the siege was undertaken. On the other hand, there were many conditions favorable to Christian success. Malaga was now practically isolated. The exhausting effects of domestic strife, the apathy and moral cowardice of Boabdil, the recent defeat of his uncle, the depressing influence of the repeated forays which had swept the Vega like a tempest, rendered hopeless any expectation of relief from the territory still under Moorish control. The commercial pursuits of the citizens for the most part rendered them averse to violence, and ready to make almost any sacrifice for the sake of peace. It was certain, however, that a stubborn resistance would be offered. The commandant of the garrison and governor of the city was the intrepid Hamet-al-Zegri, whose resolution and prowess were well known to every soldier in the Spanish army. His troops were largely composed of Gomeres and other African mercenaries, some of them survivors of former campaigns, but the majority new recruits from Mauritania who had succeeded in avoiding the cruisers of the blockading fleet. With such antagonists it was preposterous to indulge the hope of an easy or a bloodless victory. The extraordinary strength of the fortifications, which had hitherto defied attack, imparted to the Moors a plausible but fallacious confidence in their impregnability.
The Spaniards having broken camp at Velez, which was only eighteen miles from Malaga, advanced to a point within two leagues of that city, and the King, desirous of testing the disposition of his adversary, sent an embassy to Hamet-al-Zegri offering advantageous terms of capitulation. The Moslem general haughtily replied that the city had been intrusted to him to defend and not to surrender, and dismissed the royal messengers with scant courtesy. The vessels in which the ordnance and camp equipage had been placed for greater facility of transportation moved in a line parallel with the march of the troops on shore, and, thus advancing with equal speed, both arrived simultaneously at their destination. The approach of the enemy was met with the usual energy of the Moorish commander. The garrison was called to arms; detachments were sent out to occupy the neighboring hills; the highway through which the Christians must pass was ambushed by a force sufficient to impede their progress; and every house beyond the defences, which, through its proximity to them, might furnish shelter, was set on fire. On the side of Velez a path so narrow that the soldiers were compelled to march in single file offered the sole approach to the city; and, in its most rugged part, commanded by eminences on either side, the Moors, with every advantage of numbers, position, and familiarity with the ground, resolutely barred the way. The Christians, ignorant of the difficulties of the march, had suffered themselves to be entangled among the rocks and fairly surrounded before they realized their peril. The contracted passage prevented those in the rear from aiding their comrades; the elevated position of the Moors, who, from the summit of the hills, were enabled to fight with little danger to themselves and had the Christians at their mercy, gave them such superiority that they threatened for a time to seriously check the advance of the entire army. In another locality, below the Gibralfaro, a battle was raging. An attempt to force the Moorish lines and turn the flank of the detachment engaged below was fiercely contested. In the words of the ancient chronicler, the Moslems “fought so desperately that they seemed to have a greater desire to kill the Christians than to save their own lives.” They neither offered nor accepted quarter. The fate of such as fell into their hands was instant death. For six hours, without intermission, the combatants, inflamed with mutual hatred, discarding their missile weapons and relying on their swords, contended with equal spirit and obstinacy,—the Moors with the consciousness that their lives and liberties were at stake; the Castilians, animated by fanatical zeal, and fighting in the presence of their King. At length, after heavy losses, both positions were stormed and taken. The enemy retired, the invading force pursued its way without further molestation, and a thorough blockade of the port was at once established. Malaga, surrounded by a strongly intrenched line of circumvallation, and effectually deprived of all hope of relief, now prepared to face the privations and calamities of a protracted siege.
The permanent character of the blockading camps and the perfect military organization of the Spaniards, marked features of the closing operations of the Reconquest, became more and more conspicuous with the advance of the Christian power. A deep ditch protected the intrenchments, which were fortified by parapets and towers. The soldiers were sheltered by huts. In the rear of the lines were large workshops, where skilled mechanics repaired the cannon and the various engines of war. A gunpowder factory, which gave employment to three hundred men, was erected, and its dangerous product was stored for security in adjacent caves. Hundreds of artisans cast the balls destined for the ponderous lombards. There were twelve of these great pieces, of fourteen-inch calibre, and more than twelve feet long, from which were thrown projectiles weighing five hundred pounds. Such was their clumsy construction that their muzzles could neither be elevated nor depressed, and they could be discharged only eight times a day. A ship-load of stone balls was transported from Algeziras, where they had been fired from the ordnance of Alfonso XI. during the siege of that city, one hundred and forty-three years before. The Spanish army, composed of nearly seventy thousand men, was supported by numerous vessels of every description, many of them armed with guns of medium calibre. When the batteries were mounted, a terrible bombardment of the city began by sea and land. The minarets, the domes, the houses, the towers, crumbled under the incessant cannonade. The city was ablaze in many places from fire-balls shot from the ballistas. The highways and pleasure-grounds were strewed with the dying and the dead. Many of the inhabitants were overwhelmed by the ruins of their fallen dwellings. The martial splendor of the spectacle excited the admiration of the chroniclers who witnessed it. They allude with unconcealed pride to the picturesque beauty of the landscape, soon to be marred by the cruel hand of war; to the formidable entrenchments guarded by many towers, to the fleet encircling the capacious harbor, to the innumerable tents covering the slopes of every hillside and following the winding lines of circumvallation, to the magnificent silken standards displaying the familiar arms of Castile and Leon, or emblazoned with the insignia of the proudest houses of the kingdom. Behind all this pomp was an unflinching energy, a confidence of ultimate success, which awed and discouraged the besieged. The calm deliberation, denoting an absolute tenacity of purpose, which characterized the first steps of the enemy augured ill for the people of Malaga, now cut off from the world.
But, in many respects, they might well be hopeful of a favorable result. Their means of resistance were the most formidable which the Christians had yet encountered. Their citadel had been pronounced by the most competent military engineers to be impregnable. Their provisions were abundant, the munitions of war, stored in their magazines and arsenals, inexhaustible. Their batteries were mounted with cannon but little inferior in weight and equal in range to those of the Spaniards; the artillerists who served them were among the most skilful marksmen of the age. The garrison of the city was numerous and well equipped; the governor, a veteran grown gray in a score of wars. Every circumstance contributed to animate the Moors to a desperate resistance. Should the invader be repelled, it would restore the lost prestige of the Moorish name. Defeat meant the infliction of every injury that could be devised by fanaticism and hatred. It was well known in Malaga that the agents of the Inquisition, while not yet officially recognized, were present with the army, and were treated with marked distinction by the Spanish court. The duplicity of Ferdinand, the blind bigotry of Isabella, although masked by a plausible appearance of candor and equity, had not escaped the observation of the keen-witted Moslems. A vague horror, intensified by past misfortune and by the apprehension of future calamity and associated with that awful tribunal whose atrocities were soon to fill the land with mourning, pervaded every Mussulman community. The possession of these advantages and the anticipation of future evils were sufficient to stimulate the Malagans to the highest exertion of courage and endurance. But unfortunately there existed among them a party largely composed of wealthy merchants to whom every patriotic consideration was subservient to the enjoyment of momentary quiet and safety. It was headed by Ali Dordux, a citizen of immense wealth, distinguished lineage, and unimpeachable integrity. Related to the royal house of Granada, he enjoyed, from this connection, from the consideration attaching to his great possessions, and from the munificence and charity with which he contributed to public enterprises and relieved private misfortune, the highest confidence and respect of his countrymen.
Through his mediation, an attempt had already been made to deliver the city to the Christians, and thereby escape the dreadful consequences of a siege. The commander of the Alcazaba, Ibn-Comixa, had been a party to this transaction, which, discountenanced in the beginning by Hamet-al-Zegri, had afterwards been conducted with secrecy. These proceedings having been communicated to Hamet by spies, he issued from the Gibralfaro with his guards, and put to death the brother of Ibn-Comixa and all others implicated with him in these treasonable designs wherever they could be apprehended. Henceforth absolute master of the city, the terror of his name and the fatal example of those who had rashly endeavored to defy his authority, while they might not entirely prevent, yet would probably render futile, any future negotiations looking to a clandestine and unauthorized capitulation.