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with which he was not familiar. In astronomy and chemistry his
learning was especially extensive and accurate. It was during his
reign that the famous Ibn-Beithar, the first botanist, physician, and
natural philosopher of his time, travelled under the patronage of his
sovereign through every accessible country of the world with a view
to the improvement of medical science and the acquisition of
botanical information. The measures taken by Yusuf to improve the
condition of his subjects were adapted to every grade of society, to
all branches of industry, to the regulation and practice of religious
ceremonies, to the encouragement and direction of intellectual
progress. His enlightened mind perceived at a glance the steps
required to confer a public benefit or to correct a grievous abuse. His
edicts prescribed the performance of the often neglected ritual of
Islam; they defined and enforced the injunctions of cleanliness, of
regularity, of formality in worship—that the believer should always
live within hearing of the call to prayer; that with every twelve
houses a mosque should be erected; they recalled the meritorious
character of duties to the poor and the helpless; the protection of
the orphan; the visitation of the sick; the distribution of alms. They
regulated the police of cities, fixed the hours for opening and closing
the gates, and appointed for each ward a magistrate responsible for
the preservation of order. They enjoined the prosecution of military
operations with humanity, and severely prohibited injury to non-
combatants or molestation of the peaceful ministers of a hostile
religion. The barbarous punishments instituted by Koranic law were
greatly modified by the generous indulgence of Yusuf, who not
infrequently permitted the mitigation of a sentence where the
severity of the penalty was disproportionate to the nature of the
crime. Public edifices of great size and palatial character, mints and
universities, mosques and arsenals, were multiplied throughout his
dominions during his reign. By importations from Arabia, by the
institution of rewards, by the publication of ordinances, he improved
the breed of Andalusian horses, even before that time famous in
Europe. In the manly pride of health and vigor, this great monarch,
the representative of an advanced civilization, the patron of learning,
the father of his people, came to an ignoble and untimely end. An
assassin, so obscure that the chronicles neither mention his name
nor disclose his motive, stabbed him while performing his devotions
in the mosque. His murder was probably the act of a fanatic or the
culmination of a plot contrived by some unprincipled aspirant to the
throne, whose identity was not discovered and whose treason
certainly failed of its object. Mourned by every class of his subjects,
Yusuf was buried in the royal vault of the Alhambra, where his
marble sarcophagus, inscribed with a lengthy and pompous epitaph,
once resplendent with blue and gold, still remains.
The accession of his son Mohammed V. in the midst of peace
seemed to promise a long and happy reign. The Castilians were too
busily employed in fighting each other to concern themselves about
their Moslem neighbors. Their King, Pedro el Cruel, who considered
a large proportion of his subjects in the light of personal enemies,
had already, by his sanguinary measures, earned the ferocious
appellation by which he is known to posterity.
The new Emir possessed all the noble attributes which
characterized the most distinguished of his predecessors,—affability,
generosity, courage, solicitude for the happiness of his subjects,
devotion to letters. But his gentle disposition lacked the sternness
and resolution indispensable to a sovereign whose empire included
so many discordant national and political elements. Of simpler tastes
than his father, he at once banished from the precincts of the court
that herd of cringing parasites who live by flattery and corruption,—
consumers of the public revenues, ministers of pride and sensuality.
In their place he substituted a number of dignified and capable
officials of approved integrity and wide experience. This step, while
it increased the popular respect, created a number of treacherous
and formidable enemies, the effects of whose secret animosity were
soon disclosed. The generosity of Mohammed had assigned to his
step-mother and her sons as a residence the palace of the Alcazar,
not far from the Alhambra, and, while of less extent, almost rivalling
it in beauty and splendor. This woman, whose ambition was
boundless, had permitted the thirst of avarice to predominate over
the natural sentiments of grief, and had taken advantage of the
confusion resulting from the assassination of her husband to secretly
abstract a large quantity of gold and jewels from the public treasury.
By means of this, with the design of raising her eldest son Ismail to
the throne, she corrupted princes of the blood and representatives
of powerful families, some of whom had been driven from the court
by the political reformation instituted by the Emir. When the plot was
ripe, a hundred picked men scaled the walls of the Alhambra at
night. The sentinels, unsuspicious of danger, were killed at their
posts. Distracted by the suddenness of the attack, and deceived by
the cries of the assailants and the movements of their torches which
magnified their numbers, the garrison fled. Oblivious of the object of
the enterprise, and tempted by the riches about them, the
insurgents at once gave themselves up to plunder. Through the
devotion of a favorite slave, Mohammed was provided with female
clothing, and escaped through one of the secret subterranean
passages that connected the Alhambra with the other royal abodes
of the city. Swift horses soon carried the fugitives to Guadix, whose
loyalty was unshaken; Ismail was proclaimed Emir, under the
direction of his brother-in-law, Abu-Said; and another revolution,
with its train of evils—discontent, proscription, confiscation, and
wide-spread calamity—was inaugurated to embitter the factions and
undermine the power of the fair and happy kingdom of Granada.
The efforts of Mohammed to recover his crown proving fruitless, he
undertook a journey to Africa to enlist, if possible, the sympathy and
support of Abu-Selim, the Sultan of Fez. Received with every
courtesy, a large army was placed at his disposal and transported to
Andalusia; but the death of Abu-Selim, and the accession of another
prince, either neutral or unfriendly to the aspirations of the
dethroned sovereign, caused the recall of the troops before they had
begun operations. Thwarted thus by his allies, Mohammed now had
recourse to the King of Castile. His appeal was heard, and a
Christian army was assembled to effect his restoration. In the mean
time, the idle and voluptuous character of Ismail, combined with the
arbitrary assumption of authority by Abu-Said, had aroused the
hatred and contempt of his subjects. Those feelings were not
diminished by the bloody usurpation of Abu-Said, who caused the
reigning prince and his brothers to be murdered, and then took
formal possession of the throne which he had already occupied, so
far as the actual government of the kingdom was concerned. The
Christian forces entered Granada; the smaller towns at once signified
their submission; there remained nothing to be taken but the capital
and its Vega; when Mohammed, affected by the sight of the
sufferings incident to the progress of an invading army, abandoned
his project, and requested the retirement of his allies. Rather than
inflict upon his people the misery which must inevitably result from a
siege of the capital by an army alien to his people in nationality and
religion, unrestrained by discipline, and careless of the dictates of
humanity or the usages of war, he was prepared to renounce his
royal inheritance.
Despite the discomfiture of his rival, the universal odium
entertained towards Abu-Said on account of his tyranny, as well as
for his crimes, rendered the stability of his power so uncertain that
he determined to temporarily abandon his kingdom. As a preliminary
step, he restored, without ransom and loaded with valuable gifts, a
number of Castilian cavaliers, including the brother-in-law of the
King, all of whom had been taken in a marauding expedition; and, in
return for this unusual generosity, requested their mediation to
induce Pedro el Cruel to espouse his cause. The daily increase of
Mohammed’s influence, the desertion of important cities, among
them the stronghold of Malaga, the treachery of his partisans, who,
in increasing numbers, constantly resorted to the hostile camp,
determined Abu-Said to confide no longer in the doubtful loyalty of
his courtiers, tempted by every consideration of personal interest
and political advantage to betray him. Attended by a considerable
retinue of those who still remained faithful to his decaying fortunes,
he left his kingdom and threw himself upon the royal honor and
hospitality of Pedro el Cruel at Seville. A more unfortunate and ill-
timed resolution had never been entertained by a despairing
monarch. With an eye to future contingencies, he had collected and
taken with him all the wealth which the treasury of Granada,
depleted by continuous peculation, mismanagement, and theft,
contained. This, however inconsiderable when compared with the
riches of former times, was more than sufficient to arouse the
cupidity of a perfidious king, often almost reduced to penury by
extravagance, and absolutely unscrupulous as to the means of
supplying his necessities. The Moors, in the presence of a hostile
court, displayed with ostentatious profusion all the rare and tempting
objects of luxury so coveted by the poverty-stricken Castilians,—
horses of the finest Arabian blood; sumptuous housings shining with
gold and silver embroidery; lances, javelins, and scimetars,
elaborately inlaid, and set with jewels; coffers filled with precious
stones of extraordinary size and beauty—rubies, emeralds,
sapphires, pearls, and hyacinths; quantities of rich stuffs of silk and
cloth of gold. The apparel of the most plainly attired noble who
attended the exiled Moslem prince far surpassed in elegance and
value the garments of the Castilian sovereign. The effects of the folly
which permitted such a display by persons assuming the character of
suppliants soon became apparent. The King received his guests with
much ceremony and apparent cordiality. Abu-Said was lodged in the
Alcazar, as became his royal rank, and his attendants were
distributed through the Jewish Quarter, a locality near the palace
and easily accessible to the soldiery, which traversed by a labyrinth
of narrow and crooked lanes enclosed by lofty walls was a veritable
prison from which there was no escape. The resolution of Don Pedro
had already been taken. The sight of this great wealth within his
grasp was too much for his equanimity. It was true that the Moors
were in his capital under the royal safe-conduct, as well as with his
personal assurance of protection. It was notorious that the laws of
hospitality were respected by even the lowest races of men, and
were by no people more highly regarded than by the Arab ancestors
of his guests. In a formal audience, surrounded by all the evidences
of civil pomp and military array, he had solemnly pledged his word to
carefully examine the respective claims of the contestants for the
throne of Granada, both of whom acknowledged themselves his
vassals, and to decide impartially between them. These
considerations, however, weighed but little with the treacherous
monarch. The fact that he was the suzerain of Abu-Said afforded
him a ready pretext for prompt and decisive action. Under feudal law
he could dispose of the property and life of an unfaithful vassal. The
Moslems, invited to a banquet, were seized by the guard. All were
searched, and the jewels and money concealed on their persons
confiscated. Thrown into prison, they remained for two days in
suspense; on the third, they were conducted to a plain outside the
city and fastened to stakes. In mockery of his rank, Abu-Said was
clothed in a scarlet robe, and, mounted upon an ass, led the
melancholy procession to the place of execution. Thirty-seven of his
retinue, including several personages of the highest distinction,
shared his fate. These deluded victims of their own credulity were
used as marks for the lances of the nobles of Don Pedro’s court; and
the King himself gave the signal by a thrust which pierced the body
of his most distinguished guest. The heads of the murdered Moslems
were sent to Mohammed as a testimonial of the friendship of his
suzerain, and as an indication that the power of the faction which
had dethroned and exiled him was broken.
Whatever might be the moral aspect of this transaction, it was
certainly advantageous to the King of Castile both in a financial and
political point of view. Enormous wealth was obtained by the
spoliation resulting from an unparalleled act of perfidy. There was
not a Moor who had not in his effects or on his person treasures of
great value. The pages, as least liable to suspicion, were the
custodians of the most precious jewels. From one was taken a
necklace of a hundred pearls as large as filberts; from another, who
wore a leathern girdle, seven hundred and twenty-three rubies; the
search of a third revealed three of the same stones of the size of
pigeon-eggs and of extraordinary brilliancy; almost a peck of
beautiful pearls was found upon a fourth. The gems of inferior
lustre, or less highly prized, sapphires, hyacinths, and turquoises,
with embossed and damascened arms and armor and gold in coin
and bullion, were scarcely less valuable, and far exceeded the booty
ordinarily yielded by a marauding expedition. In addition to the
pecuniary profit derived from this outrage of the rites of hospitality,
the power of Don Pedro was materially strengthened by it. The
removal of a dangerous enemy, and the destruction of a party whose
influence had been sufficient to subvert the royal succession, must
necessarily insure the gratitude and support of Mohammed, who was
indebted to it for his restoration to power. The Castilians, entirely
controlled by the principles of the time, viewed with indifference a
breach of faith which, however reprehensible when committed
against a Christian, was almost meritorious when it involved the
sacrifice and plunder of an infidel. Mohammed received with mingled
joy and abhorrence the information of the death of his rival, and,
amidst the real or pretended rejoicings of the people, again
ascended the throne. Magnificent presents—horses and trappings,
jewels and gold— were sent to Don Pedro as tokens of gratitude,
and a perpetual treaty of alliance was soon after ratified between
the courts of Castile and Granada.
In the domestic and foreign disturbances which oppressed the
Castilian monarchy during the troubled reign of Don Pedro, the
Andalusian Moslems remained the steadfast adherents of the
Christian king. They served in the war with Aragon. They rendered
substantial and timely aid in the implacable contest which, in spite of
their efforts, finally established the political supremacy of the
bastard line of Trastamara. During the siege of Cordova, animated
by the sight of their famous temple, the holy mosque of the
Ommeyade khalifs, they scaled the walls in the face of a desperate
resistance and took the Alcazar under the very shadow of the
ancient Moslem shrine. The city was almost within their grasp and
must have fallen had their efforts been seconded by their Christian
allies with half the resolution they themselves displayed. In the
battles of Najera and Montiel, so vital to the fortunes of Don Pedro,
the one confirming for a brief period his waning power, the other
involving the forfeit of his life and crown, the Moorish soldiers of
Granada, intrusted with the safety of the royal person, displayed a
fidelity and a heroism far surpassing that of the Castilian chivalry,
oppressed by tyranny, corrupted by intrigue, and continually
wavering in their political inclinations through the tempting
inducements of the rival camps.
From the battle of Montiel, which closed the career of Don Pedro
I., to the death of Mohammed in 1391, the kingdom of Granada
enjoyed, with but few trifling exceptions, the blessings of peace. The
Emir, a few months after the accession of Henry II., stormed the city
of Algeziras, and, unable to retain it, razed its fortifications, and filled
up the harbor. The defences were subsequently restored, but so
effectually was the port obstructed that its commodiousness was
destroyed, and, in consequence, the commercial and strategic
importance of the place was greatly diminished. An occasional
border foray, undertaken by irresponsible marauders in times of
internal commotion when the restraints of royal authority were
barely tolerated or scarcely acknowledged, was the only interruption
of a cessation of hostilities maintained, on the one hand, by policy
and choice, and, on the other, by necessity, which lasted twenty-two
years. The prudence of Yusuf II., the son and successor of
Mohammed V., at once suggested and obtained a renewal of the
treaty which had long united the two kingdoms, and whose
existence had been so propitious to the security, the wealth, and the
happiness of Granada.
In 1394, Don Martin Yañez de Barbudo, Grand Master of
Alcantara, Portuguese by birth, fanatic by nature, and adventurer
from inclination, sent to the Emir of Granada an absurd defiance,
whose grandiloquent terms recall the extravagances of the romances
of chivalry. Raising the banner of the crusade, which bore the green
cross of his order, at the head of eighteen hundred followers he
advanced to the conquest of a populous kingdom, which astrological
calculation and the suspicious predictions of a hermit had assured
him he would easily achieve. The remonstrances of provincial
governors, and the peremptory commands of the King, who saw
with indignation this unprovoked attack upon a friendly power, were
insufficient to divert him from his purpose, which he declared was
sanctioned by the Almighty and confirmed by many portentous
visions and miracles. The Moors permitted this band of fanatics to
approach within a few miles of their capital. It was then surrounded
by an army of a hundred thousand men and annihilated. Not a single
Christian escaped. The knowledge that the expedition had been
undertaken contrary to the orders of the King of Castile prevented a
rupture between the two kingdoms. About this time, Yusuf died
suddenly, an event attributed, through the Oriental love of the
marvellous, to a poisoned mantle sent him by the Sultan of Fez. He
was succeeded by his second son, Mohammed VI., whose intriguing
and ambitious spirit had long since prompted him to subvert the
hereditary right of his elder brother Yusuf in order to obtain the
crown. Yusuf was confined, with his harem, in the castle of
Salobreña, where, although furnished with every luxury suitable to
his rank, he was subjected to strict restraint and constant espionage.
Solicitous concerning the validity of his title, and apprehensive of the
manner in which his usurpation might be regarded by the Castilian
king, Mohammed formed a romantic design, eminently characteristic
of the manners of the East, and whose danger and novelty, added to
the attractiveness of an enterprise remarkable for its boldness, were
almost a guaranty of success. In the character of his own
ambassador, with a retinue of twenty splendidly mounted and
appointed cavaliers, he traversed, unrecognized alike by his subjects
and his Christian neighbors, the provinces of his own and the states
of the Castilian kingdom as far as Toledo. A renewal of the treaty of
alliance was readily obtained from Henry III.; and the Emir returned
to Granada secure, for the time, from a renewal of hostilities from an
adversary whose supremacy every reflecting statesman in the
Peninsula felt could not be much longer delayed.
In 1406, serious trouble having arisen on the frontier, in
consequence of mutual depredations, King Henry summoned the
Cortes with the avowed object of using all the available resources of
the monarchy for the final subjugation of the Moslems of Granada.
His sudden death, and the occurrence of another long minority with
its inevitable series of plots and disasters, prevented the realization
of this project; and the existence of the Moorish kingdom, which
fortune seemed to have made the especial object of her favor, was
protracted for nearly eighty-five years longer. The demise of the
king, however, only deferred for a short time the prosecution of
hostilities. The restless spirit of the Spanish chivalry, nourished by
war and sedition, was never content with the formal and tedious
ceremonial of the court. The perils of the battle-field; the surprise of
an isolated fortress; the foray, with its excitements and its spoil; the
flocks and herds of the rich pastures; the treasures of splendid villas;
the beauty and fascinations of the inmates of princely harems,—
these were at once the school of the Christian cavaliers, the objects
of their highest aspirations, the incentives of their warlike and
vainglorious ambition. The enthusiasm aroused by the crusading
enterprise of Henry III., while somewhat cooled, was far from being
dissipated by his death. A large sum was voted by the Cortes. The
cities of Leon and Castile resounded with preparations for the
conflict. A fleet of twenty-three galleys, equipped by the Emirs of
Tunis and Tlemcen and sent to aid the Spanish Moslems, was
defeated and destroyed in the Strait of Gibraltar by an inferior force
under the Admiral of Castile. Mohammed, well aware of the plans of
his enemies, endeavored to anticipate them by invading the province
of Jaen with a numerous army, and began the siege of that city.
Information of the approach of a Christian force caused him to make
an inglorious retreat without a battle. On the way he stormed
Bedmar, where, out of a numerous population, less than one
hundred prisoners survived to experience the bitterness of slavery.
In return, the Christians took the strong outpost of Zahara, and
ravaged without mercy the fertile environs of Ronda.
In 1408, Mohammed, at the head of twenty thousand soldiers,
besieged Alcaudete. The spirit of Arab tactics, intolerable of delay
and unreliable in the face of strong walls and obstinate resistance,
faltered before the determined courage of the garrison. Both
Christians and Moslems had suffered greatly during this war, which
had hitherto yielded no perceptible advantage to either; a
suspension of hostilities for eight months was readily agreed to; and
the Castilians, to whom a temporary respite was even more
advantageous than to their adversaries, having previously exhausted
their available resources by the enrolment of troops, now with forty
million maravedis in the treasury, impatiently expected the expiration
of the truce.
In the mean time, Mohammed VI., stricken with a fatal disease,
was admonished by his physicians that he had but a short time to
live. Recognizing that the life of his brother, still detained in the
castle of Salobreña, might prove a serious obstacle to the prospects
of his own son whom he had destined to succeed him, he sent a
peremptory order to the alcalde of Salobreña to send him the head
of Yusuf by the messenger. The alcalde received the latter while
playing chess with the imprisoned prince, whose affable manners,
engaging address, and unmerited misfortunes had won the esteem
of all his guards and attendants. The manifest agitation of his
companion revealed to Yusuf, ever in expectation of such a
catastrophe, the serious nature of the despatch. Acquainted with its
import, the prince begged for a few hours’ delay to bid farewell to
his family; but the command was urgent, and the messenger, a
standard-bearer of the Emir, accustomed to implicit and instant
compliance, demanded its immediate execution. It was finally agreed
that a respite should be granted until the conclusion of the game.
Short as the time was, it had not elapsed when two nobles of the
court arrived, and, with every mark of respect and homage, saluted
Yusuf as Emir of Granada.
Mohammed VI. had suddenly expired; his subjects, recognizing
the superior claims of the unfortunate Yusuf, had repudiated his
nephew; and the sorrowing prisoner, under sentence of death and
with but a few moments to live, saw himself raised in an instant
from the lowest depths of misfortune to the throne of a powerful
kingdom and the absolute sovereignty of more than a million souls.
The accession of Yusuf was followed by the usual embassy, bearing
rich presents to the Castilian court; his advances were met with
courtesy; and the personal hostility to Mohammed having been
terminated by his death, a new truce for two years was without
difficulty concluded. At its expiration in 1410, Yusuf, in accordance
with the wise policy which had for so long governed the Moslem
princes of his line, attempted to obtain its renewal. His request was
insolently refused, and he was offered the alternative of vassalage
and tribute or war. He chose the latter; assembled an army of a
hundred and thirty thousand men, and met the Christians who were
about to besiege Antequera. The Moors, despite their superior
numbers, were routed in a bloody engagement; their country was
laid waste; and Antequera was taken by Ferdinand, uncle of the
King, chief of the regency, and practically ruler of the kingdom. His
success he piously attributed to the sword of St. Ferdinand, a
priceless souvenir of victory long deposited in the Cathedral of
Seville, and which, in this as in former campaigns, had been carried
in battle, where it was supposed to exert the miraculous powers of a
sacred relic, as well as the more appropriate virtues of a military
talisman. Peace was soon afterwards established conditionally upon
the liberation of several hundred Christian captives by the Emir of
Granada.
The Moslems of Gibraltar, subject to the extortion and tyranny of
a grasping alcalde and seeing no prospect of relief, communicated
secretly with the Sultan of Fez, and offered to deliver to him the
fortress. That monarch, seeing in this proposition an opportunity to
disembarrass himself of his brother Abu-Said, whose talents and
popularity already menaced the continuance of his power,
despatched him to Gibraltar with two thousand men. The agreement
was kept by the citizens; the gates were opened; the Africans
occupied the city; and the alcalde with the garrison took refuge in
the citadel. In a short time, Ahmed, son of Yusuf, arrived with a
large detachment of troops, and the Africans, engaged in front and
rear, were compelled to surrender. The prince, Sidi-Abu-Said, was
taken to Granada, where he received the attentions due to his
distinguished rank.
As soon as these facts became known to the Sultan of Fez, he
despatched messengers to the Emir, requesting the murder of his
brother, both as a measure of safety to himself and an evidence of
friendship from his neighbor. The generous nature of Yusuf revolted
at the proposal. He showed the letter to his prisoner; tendered him
his sympathy and his assistance; and sent him with a force of picked
men and a great treasure to avenge his wrongs and drive his
inhuman brother from the throne. The Sultan was defeated near his
capital and died in prison; Sidi-Abu-Said seized the crown without
further opposition; and the disinterested generosity of Yusuf
cemented anew the relations of the two Moorish kingdoms, so
frequently interrupted by national jealousy, sectarian discord, and
the projects of unscrupulous ambition.
For the remainder of his life, no further hostilities occurred to vex
the repose of Yusuf, and a career begun in trouble and persecution
was passed amidst the pleasures and amusements of an enduring
peace. The cavaliers of Castile and Aragon, who had deserved the
jealousy or provoked the resentment of their respective sovereigns,
found in the Moslem court a refuge from the vengeance of their
enemies, and their feuds were sometimes permanently reconciled
through the mediation and the good offices of the Moorish king. In
the same manner, he was not infrequently appealed to for the
settlement of disputes which had arisen between the haughty
Christian knights. Opportunities were afforded, in accordance with
the chivalric custom of the age, for the decision of these quarrels by
a contest of arms. The lists were placed in the famous Plaza de la
Bab-al-Rambla, in the heart of the Moslem capital. Every formality of
the tourney, as known and exercised by the most refined and
polished people in Europe, was observed,—the proclamation by
heralds, the adherence to the established rules of knighthood, the
practice of dignified courtesy, the presentation of favors, the
distribution of the rewards of valor and address by the hands of
beauty. The attractiveness of the spectacle was enhanced by the
character of the surroundings, by the splendor of the costumes, by
the romantic features of the encounter, by the presence of the
monarch, by the charms of the beautiful Moorish women. The quaint
old houses with their overhanging balconies and sculptured lattices
were hung with silken tapestry and garlanded with flowers. From
them, the ladies of the court, whom the liberal customs of the
Andalusian Moor allowed to appear unveiled, looked down upon an
exhibition of daring horsemanship and dexterity in the use of
weapons to which modern equestrian exercises offer no parallel and
can afford no adequate conception. Their garments of silk, curiously
embroidered, were of every color; their dark tresses glittered with
jewels; about their necks were strings of enormous pearls and many
chains of gold. Upon a balcony more elevated than the rest sat the
Emir, the judge of the combat, with rows of black eunuchs and
mamelukes in magnificent uniforms and armed with gleaming
weapons grouped around him. The heralds, whose tabards were
emblazoned with the armorial bearings and cipher of the monarch,
proclaimed the mutual defiance of the champions, enforced
compliance with the regulations of the lists, and prevented the
excited contestants from exceeding the limits prescribed by the rules
of chivalric honor and deferential courtesy. Second only to the
rewards of military renown were the distinctions of the tourney and
the tilt of reeds among the dashing Moorish cavaliers, passionately
fond of every martial exercise and of every pastime which required
the exhibition of activity and skill.
In ordinary encounters, as well as in the more serious contests of
the Castilian champions presided over by Yusuf, blood was rarely
spilled. The impetuosity of the ruder Christian knights, whose
customs demanded a serious duel in satisfaction of injured honor,
was restrained by the politic Emir, who used every effort to pacify his
infuriated guests and to change their enmity into temporary if not
lasting friendship. This course, indicative of the noble generosity and
inherent justice of his nature, obtained for him the highest esteem
and popularity at the Castilian court. The confidence reposed in him,
the admiration evinced for his talents and his integrity by the
hereditary foes of his nationality and his creed, are the most
unequivocal testimonials of the greatness of his character. The
dowager Queen of Castile maintained a regular and intimate
correspondence with him, and presents were frequently exchanged
between them. The asperities of war were softened by this friendly
intercourse; the condition of the frontiers, always unsettled, became
more peaceful; and, in the midst of hostilities, Christian captives
were frequently liberated without ransom.
Under the pacific reign of Yusuf, Granada increased in wealth, in
all the vices engendered by the abuse of luxury, and in that
effeminacy so fatal to military power and so characteristic of general
decadence. His death ushered in a period of civil wars and general
disorder, insignificant when considered singly, but which collectively
portended the ruin of a nation.
Mohammed VII., the son of Yusuf, received from his father a
kingdom in appearance powerful, but in fact without stability in its
institutions or loyalty among its people. The calamities of his reign,
the result of his arrogance and want of tact, procured for him the
appellation of Al-Hayzari, The Left-Handed, rather a synonym of
misfortune than a nick-name of awkwardness. Far from imitating the
virtues of his father, he seemed to cultivate the dislike of his subjects
by his neglect of their welfare and by his insufferable pride. The
viziers and great officers of the court received at his hands as little
consideration as the eunuchs and slaves. He refused audiences to
the people, long accustomed to the patriarchal method of redressing
wrongs inherited from the informal administration of justice by the
sheiks of the Desert. Adopting the unpopular custom of the Orient,
so inconsistent with the traditions and the practice of Islam, he
secluded himself within the walls of the palace. The martial
amusements of chivalry were prohibited. The populace were
deprived of their games and festivals. All classes of society were
soon united in the hatred of their monarch; he was deposed and
driven to Tunis, and his cousin, Mohammed VIII., Al-Zaguer,
ascended the throne. His first act was to exile the powerful family of
the Abencerrages, whose intrigues with the King of Castile and the
Emir of Tunis eventually accomplished his ruin. Mohammed-al-
Hayzari was restored, and Al-Zaguer, eminent for political and
literary talents, dexterous in military exercises, and possessed of
every quality which contributes to the power and popularity of kings,
was dethroned and beheaded. In return for the substantial aid
afforded him, the Castilian king demanded the payment of an annual
tribute and the acknowledgment of vassalage from Al-Hayzari. This
being refused, another conspiracy was hatched, with Yusuf-Ibn-
Alahmar, a wealthy noble of royal descent, at its head. His success
was assured by the support of a powerful faction which, with a
Castilian army, encountered the forces of the Emir at the base of the
Sierra Elvira. The battle which ensued was one of the most bloody
and destructive recorded in Moorish history. The Emir was
overwhelmingly defeated; and another engagement, scarcely less
disastrous, completely destroyed the power of Al-Hayzari, who was a
second time driven into exile. His advanced age and the grave
responsibilities of government shortened the life of Yusuf-Ibn-
Alahmar, whose reign lasted only six months. His death was the
signal for the return of Al-Hayzari, whom the fickle populace, which
had twice expelled him, received with every token of joy and loyalty.
The unpopularity of this monarch, who had learned nothing from
adversity, extended even to members of his family, and his own
nephews conspired against him. One of them, Ibn-Othman, by the
lavish distribution of gold among the mob of the capital, excited a
riot, seized the Alhambra, and threw his uncle into prison. His
triumph was of short duration, however, for another nephew, Ibn-
Ismail, with the support of the Christians, usurped the crown of
Granada, now become the prize of every daring adventurer. The civil
war between the two princes lasted for several years, with
incalculable damage to the country and the people. The struggle
was prolonged by the intrigues of Castile, through whose assistance
the supremacy of Ibn-Ismail was finally secured. These serious
commotions, which absorbed and exhausted the resources of the
monarchy by the destruction of its wealth and the diminution of its
population, left neglected and almost forgotten the fortresses of the
frontier, the bulwarks of its safety, and the guarantees of its power.
Many of these by voluntary relinquishment or by conquest passed
into the hands of the Castilians, among them Gibraltar, the most
important of all, which was surprised and taken by the Duke of
Medina-Sidonia in 1462.
At the death of Ismail, in 1466, his eldest son, Muley Hassan,
ascended the throne. A bitter foe of the Christians, he had more
than once, while a mere youth, resented their interference in aid of
pretenders and would-be usurpers, a feeling which became
intensified a hundred-fold when he assumed the supreme direction
of affairs. His implacable temper, the ferocity of his manners, his
flagrant disregard of treaties, his pitiless forays, which gave no
quarter and left behind a smoky waste, struck terror into the hearts
of his enemies. The forces of the kingdom were at that time
engaged in suppressing the rebellion of the alcalde of Malaga,
brother of the monarch and claimant of the succession. In the
palace, the plots of the inmates of the harem—rival wives who
aimed at the exaltation of their progeny to royal power—disturbed
the peace and further embittered the naturally morose disposition of
the King, already irritated by the ingratitude of his kinsmen and the
bloody experiences of incessant war and rebellion.
An important crisis, ever memorable in Moorish annals, was now
reached in the affairs of Granada. For nearly two hundred years that
kingdom had gradually, but none the less surely, been approaching
dissolution. The political conditions which foster individual heroism,
the patriotic loyalty which preserves a prosperous empire,
imperceptibly diminishing with each succeeding generation, had
finally disappeared. The expansive power so marked in the early
ages of Islam, and especially conspicuous in the conquest and
occupation of the Peninsula, no longer existed. The principle of
hereditary right, practically unknown to the Arabs, adopted only for
convenience by their descendants, frequently abrogated by the
arbitrary will or the uncertain caprice of monarchs, and always weak
among polygamous nations, was no longer recognized by the
Andalusian Moslems. This custom, although weak in theory, had
been one of the safeguards of the royal succession, and
consequently an assurance of stability of government and of security
to the citizen. Now, however, a swarm of pretenders disputed with
each other the possession of the throne. The inheritance of royal
blood, the possession of great wealth, the enjoyment of popular
favor, were qualifications, any one of which was sufficient to tempt
an adventurer to aspire to the crown of the Alhamares. Even the
spirit of tribal loyalty, an ancient legacy of the Arab, had been
weakened by a rapid succession of rulers of uncertain title and
obscure antecedents. The populace was debauched by the gold
which the leaders of every revolt scattered with prodigal hand.
Successive irruptions of a score of tribes and nations, of fanatics of
hostile sects and barbarian manners, had destroyed the
comparatively homogeneous character at one time so noticeable in
the inhabitants of Granada. The selfish vices peculiar to mercantile
communities, the timidity incident to the holding of great
possessions and the control of vast commercial interests, had
engendered a spirit of cowardice, which was willing to purchase
even when it was able to defend. The martial spirit which had once
inspired a nation of warriors, bent upon proselytism and conquest,
was extinct. Military ardor and ambition existed, it is true, among the
higher classes which had adopted the profession of arms, but the
number of the latter was comparatively insignificant, and their
achievements were limited to the irregular operations of the foray.
The levies summoned to battle by the sudden exigencies of war
scarcely deserved the name of soldiers. Without discipline or
obedience, often without weapons, they were little better than a
disorderly rabble, whose first onset once repulsed caused them to
flee incontinently from the field. While the arts of civilization had
progressed in such an unparalleled degree, the science of war had
remained stationary or had actually retrograded. The tactics of the
Spanish Moors of the fifteenth century were still the ancient tactics
of the Desert. Heavy-armed cavaliers they had none; foot-soldiers
were represented by untrained peasants, armed largely with the
implements of domestic use and husbandry. Their light-horse,
however, were the finest troops of the kind in Europe. The rapidity of
their evolutions, the ambuscade, the feigned retreat, the sudden
rally, often confounded, to his sorrow, the rash and unguarded
pursuer. This superiority, formidable as it was, was not sufficient to
save, or even to protect, the kingdom. The vulnerable character of
the military organization of the Moslems of Granada was disclosed
by the number of important battles fought within sight and almost
under the shadow of the walls of their capital. The incursions of an
active foe ravaged, almost without interference, the fairest portions
of their territory. The endurance of Moorish dominion, protracted for
two centuries beyond the natural term of a nation in the age of its
decadence, is to be chiefly attributed to two causes,—the natural
obstacles which formed the frontiers of the monarchy, and the
incessant discord of its neighbors. On one side of Granada a chain of
rugged mountains, whose passes were defended by well-fortified
castles, on the other, the sea, intercepted the progress of the
invader. In the long interval between the death of Ferdinand IV. and
the union of the crowns of Castile and Aragon, minor princes came
to the throne. The advent of each, and the regency which ensued,
were signalized by dissensions, intrigue, conspiracy, and revolt. But,
while turmoil and sedition weakened Castile in one respect, it
strengthened it immensely in another. Its people, from the highest to
the lowest, became accustomed to the presence of danger,
convinced of the necessity of discipline, familiar with the use of
arms. In the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries there were scarcely
any manufacturers in the Christian dominions but those of weapons
and armor. The specimens of these existing in museums to-day
disclose the perfection of strength and elegance to which their
fabrication had attained. The swords forged upon the Tagus were,
even then, unequalled for the excellence of their steel and their
wonderful durability. The product of the Spanish armorer was proof
against the fiercest assault of the battle or the tourney. In weight, in
stature, in endurance, in religious fervor, in martial enthusiasm, the
Castilian knight was far superior to his Moslem antagonist. During
the Moorish wars and the contemporaneous domestic seditions was
formed the model of the invincible Spanish infantry, destined in the
next century to become the dread and the admiration of Europe.
Heretofore the Moors had had the power of the Castilian monarchy
alone to contend with; now, however, they were to encounter the
combined forces of the various kingdoms of the Peninsula, moving
grimly and irresistibly forward to the attainment of a single end. In
the ensuing catastrophe, a great people—learned, hospitable,
accomplished, industrious, ingenious, long inspired by the most
noble incentives which have ever directed the course of human
progress—were to be abandoned to extortion, robbery, persecution,
and exile; a land whose natural fertility had been enhanced a
hundred-fold by the patient labor and inventive talent of man was to
be swept clean by the desolating tempest of war; and a civilization,
far surpassing that of any country in that age in the knowledge, the
culture, the graces, the refinement, which confer national distinction
and individual happiness, was to be ruthlessly blotted out from the
face of the earth.
CHAPTER XXI
THE LAST WAR WITH GRANADA
1475–1486
Description of Granada—Its Wealth, Prosperity, and Civilization—Its
Cities—Beauty and Splendor of the Capital—The Alhambra—
Condition and Power of the Spanish Monarchy—Character of
Ferdinand—Character of Isabella—Muley Hassan and His Family—
Storming of Zahara—Alhama surprised by the Christians—Siege of
that City and Repulse of the Moors—Sedition at Granada—
Ferdinand routed at Loja—Foray of Muley Hassan—Expedition to
the Ajarquia—Defeat and Massacre of the Castilians—Boabdil
attacks Lucena and is captured—Destructive Foray of the
Christians—Boabdil is released and returns to Granada—Renewal
of Factional Hostility in the Moorish Capital—Moslem and Christian
Predatory Inroads—Siege and Capture of Ronda—Embassy from
Fez—Al-Zagal becomes King—Defeat of the Court of Cabra at
Moclin—Division of the Kingdom of Granada—Its Disastrous
Effects.
I undertake with diffidence the description of the last, the most
romantic, the most melancholy epoch in the history of Mohammedan
Spain. Its events have been recounted, its catastrophes enumerated,
its gallant exploits and its deeds of infamy depicted by far more
skilful hands than mine. The plan of this work, however, requires the
exhibition of the last scene in that great and thrilling drama which,
for a period of almost eight centuries, attracted the attention and
inflamed the proselyting zeal of Christian Europe, and without which
it would be manifestly incomplete. It is therefore from necessity that
I enter upon this task, profoundly conscious of its difficulty, yet with
the hope that the reader may not be unwilling to again peruse a
story of surpassing interest and pathos,—this time viewed from the
Moorish stand-point,—and with no design of attempting to improve
that which is popularly regarded as historically perfect or of imitating
that which is beyond all imitation.
In the year 1475 of the Christian era, that portion of the Spanish
Peninsula bounded by the Christian provinces of Cordova and
Murcia, by the Sierra Elvira and the sea, was the richest and most
highly civilized region of corresponding area on the globe. Every
advantage of soil, of climate, and of geographical position
contributed to multiply its resources and increase its power. Its
agricultural system, invented in Mesopotamia, extended in Syria, and
perfected under the khalifs, had been developed by the industry and
experience of many generations until the territory which it controlled
appeared a marvel of diversified and luxuriant fertility. The earth
yielded in inexhaustible profusion the choicest products of every
portion of the world susceptible of cultivation and improvement. The
date, the fig, and the pomegranate grew side by side with the cherry
and the lemon, none of these fruits being indigenous, and all having
been introduced into Europe by the curiosity and enterprise of the
Arabs. The vineyards, whose grapes were seedless and for nine
months retained unimpaired their exquisite and delicious flavor,
covered the slopes of every hill and mountain-side. Such was the
extent of the olive plantations, and so unusual the size of the trees,
that they were compared by travellers to vast forests of oaks. An
endless succession of harvests was produced by the crops of barley,
wheat, and millet which grew upon the table-lands. Thousands of
acres in every district were covered with mulberry-trees, planted as
food for the silkworm, for the manufacture of silk was the most
profitable industry of the people of Granada. From the flax and
cotton grown near the coast fabrics of remarkable fineness and
durability were produced, which found a ready market in all the
ports of the Mediterranean. The rice and the sugar plantations, the
almond-groves, the citron- and orange-orchards, the forests
abounding in valuable woods, the pastures affording constant
subsistence to immense droves of cattle and flocks of sheep,
constituted no inconsiderable portion of the agricultural wealth of
the kingdom. The intelligent cultivation of medicinal herbs furnished
to the pharmacopœia many excellent remedies, still used by the
modern practitioner. The propagation of the cochineal afforded a dye
far surpassing in beauty and brilliancy the famous purple of the
ancients. In the number and value of its minerals, this land, so
favored by nature, was excelled by no other country at that time
known to man. The sierras abounded in extensive beds of jasper,
variegated marble, agates, onyx, chalcedony, lazulite, and alabaster.
The mines, whose richness had early attracted the attention of the
Phœnicians, yielded annually great quantities of gold, silver, iron, tin,
mercury, and lead. Valuable gems, such as the ruby, the sapphire,
and the hyacinth, contributed to the adornment and pleasure of
woman and the exhibition of feminine taste and vanity. Along the
coast of the Mediterranean the pearl-fisher, as in classic times, plied
his dangerous but lucrative calling.
In the development and adaptation of these extraordinary natural
advantages a laborious and intelligent people had profited by all the
expedients suggested by human experience and ingenuity. A
complete and intricate system of reservoirs and canals distributed
the mountain streams, by myriads of tiny channels, through every
orchard and plantation. Gigantic walls, which the credulity of the
ignorant ascribed to supernatural agency controlled by talismans in
the hands of royal magicians, formed terrace upon terrace rising
along the sides of every acclivity, and the ground, thus painfully
reclaimed by art, equalled in productiveness and value those more
fortunate localities whose bounties had been lavished by the
prodigal hand of Nature alone. Every country, from Hindustan to
France, from Syria to Arabia the Happy, had paid tribute to the
investigating spirit and botanical knowledge of the Spanish Moslem.
Under a sun of almost torrid intensity, in a soil of inexhaustible
richness, the rarest exotics grew with a luxuriance not surpassed in
the lands from whence they derived their origin. The graceful palm,
whose drooping branches had suggested to the architects of the
Great Mosque of Cordova that interminable series of mysterious
arches which at once awe and enchant the traveller, had been
introduced by Abd-al-Rahman I. as a souvenir of Damascus, the city
of his birth, From India had come the cubeb and the aloe; from
Yemen the balm and the frankincense; from Persia the myrtle and
the oleander. The pomegranate, from which Granada was supposed
to have obtained its name, the cotton-plant, and the sugar-cane
were imported from the coast of Africa. Europe itself furnished many
contributions to the vegetable products of the kingdom, among them
the pear, the apple, the peach, and the quince, which had long
before been known to the Romans. In short, there was no plant of
culinary value or medicinal virtues, no grain whose harvests
promised an adequate return for the toil of the husbandman, no fruit
whose flavor might tempt the palate of the epicure, which was not
cultivated with success by the Moors in the closing days of the
empire.
The geographical extent of that empire, at the beginning of the
war which terminated with its conquest, was inconsiderable when
compared with its commerce, its wealth, and its population. In area
it scarcely equalled a modern European principality. At no time did
its dimensions exceed seventy-five by two hundred and ten miles;
fully one-fourth of its territory was rendered useless for agricultural
purposes by the ranges of steep and barren mountains that
intersected it, but which more than compensated for this loss by the
value of their quarries and mineral deposits. The population
exceeded three million souls. As has been previously mentioned, the
new economic and social conditions resulting from the ever-
contracting boundaries of the Moslem dominion, while they
diminished its original territorial area, enormously increased the
resources of the remaining provinces. From the conquered cities of
Seville, Xerez, and Cadiz, alone, three hundred thousand families
had emigrated to Granada. Every town and every hamlet
subsequently occupied by the Castilians furnished its proportion of
Moslem refugees, who, bearing their household goods and animated
with undying hatred of the Christian faith, sought an asylum in the
last stronghold of their race and their religion. The discerning
wisdom of the emirs saw in the industry of these unhappy exiles a
prolific source of future opulence and strength. The increase of
military power arising from their numbers was prodigious. The
property which the indulgent policy of the conqueror permitted them
to retain was often of immense value. But greater than all was the
accumulation of wealth represented by the capacity, the skill, the
diligence, of these unwilling emigrants. There were few of them,
indeed, unpractised in the science of husbandry or in the mechanical
trades. Their intelligence and thrift were revealed by the flourishing
condition of the country which they were compelled to abandon,
much of it originally but little indebted to nature and largely
reclaimed from barrenness, now covered with fragrant gardens and
magnificent plantations, watered by crystal streams, adorned with
sumptuous edifices, wherein were displayed all the resources of
unbounded opulence, all the splendid embellishments of Oriental
taste, all the wanton caprices of unbridled luxury,—a country
destined soon to relapse into its pristine barbarism, a prey to sloth,
to superstition, to ignorance; the home of mendicancy and
imposture; the chosen field of the inquisitor and the monk.
With the welcome accession of material wealth and untiring
energy came the no less valuable contributions of literary genius and
intellectual culture. Civil war and Castilian aggression had not yet
entirely destroyed the libraries of the great Moslem cities which had
been formed in the glorious age of the Western Khalifate; and these
inestimable legacies of ancient learning were, one by one, added to
the stores of knowledge already existing in the city of Granada. From
the lofty gallery of the minaret, not yet purified by Pagan lustration
or resounding with the clangor of Christian bells, the Moorish
astronomer, elevated far above the sleeping city, still observed the
aspect of the heavens with their gorgeous constellations and their
mysterious and interesting phenomena. The genius of poetry, whose
influence was ever paramount with the romantic and imaginative
Arab, found renewed inspiration amidst the beautiful surroundings of
the capital of the Alhamares,—the scene of so many heroic
achievements, the home of so many fascinating legends,
transformed by the credulous into tales of enchantment, celebrated
by the learned in poem, in disquisition, in chronicle.
In this charming region, where were concentrated the last
remains of a civilization whose development had aroused the wonder
and provoked the hatred of barbaric Europe, every merchant and
every traveller found a cordial welcome. The Genoese had great
factories in Malaga and Almeria. The enterprising Catalan, already
noted for his shrewdness and in whom the spirit of proselytism and
conquest was always subservient to the temptations of avarice,
owned extensive mulberry plantations and was largely interested in
the manufacture and exportation of silk. In Granada, the Hebrew,
ever prosperous, was engaged in banking, in commerce, in the
exercise of every mercantile occupation which suggested a
substantial return to his proverbial and insatiable rapacity. Even the
Castilian, oblivious of the hereditary prejudices of thirty generations
of unceasing hostility, did not hesitate to accept the hospitality of the
infidel, and to profit by the advantages afforded by the enlightened
policy of the emirs of Granada. What a prospect was presented to
the observing stranger who, for the first time, passed the frontiers of
the Moorish dominions! He saw great cities whose streets,
obstructed by an immense traffic, exhibited the costumes and
displayed the commodities of every country accessible to commercial
enterprise. At Malaga he beheld the ships of every nation possessing
a maritime power; stupendous warehouses; admirably cultivated
districts, where, for three days’ journey, he could traverse an
uninterrupted succession of pomegranate and fig plantations. In
Almeria were thousands of factories, furnishing employment to tens
of thousands of artisans, where were produced fabrics of silk, of
wool, of linen, and of cloth of gold,—some of gauze-like texture,
others stiff with exquisite embroidery, all of unrivalled excellence;
potteries where were formed those vessels of metallic lustre famous
in the Middle Ages, the secret of whose composition was so jealously
guarded that its tradition alone remains; hundreds of vast
caravansaries swarming with the traders of the Orient and their
caparisoned camels and other beasts of burden; bazaars filled with
every ornament demanded by pampered wealth and every article of
prime necessity, where even the utensils of the household were
damascened and embellished with delicate arabesques; suburbs,
where for forty miles the eye was charmed by an expanse of tropical
verdure and innumerable orchards and gardens, dotted at frequent
intervals with the palatial villas of the wealthy merchants of Almeria,
whose reputation for prodigality and voluptuousness had spread to
the remotest confines of the East. He saw a land enriched by a
system of cultivation without parallel in the annals of horticultural
industry; which, adopting the principles of antiquity and profiting by
the experience of centuries, had surpassed in the value and
importance of its practical results the efforts of all nations, ancient
and modern; which had brought the science of irrigation to such a
degree of perfection that the effects of its application could be
computed with all the accuracy of a mathematical problem; which,
as far as the eye could reach on every side, displayed the apparatus
which had evoked these marvels of intelligent husbandry,—that art
which forms the indispensable foundation and bond of society,-
water-wheels a hundred feet in diameter; reservoirs on whose ample
surface naval spectacles might be exhibited; dikes of prodigious
height and of cyclopean masonry; canals not inferior in their length
and volume to rivers; a maze of siphons, sluices, and rivulets which,
by concerted signals, at regular intervals, discharged their rushing
waters through field and garden and into bath and fountain;
majestic aqueducts which in dimensions and massiveness might vie
with even the gigantic and imperishable monuments of Roman
antiquity. On the face of the cliffs, hewn in the solid rock, were
spacious galleries and caves, wherein were deposited the surplus of
the harvests, as a security against siege and a resource in time of
famine.
In addition to the great seaports,—each a commercial metropolis
and once the capital of an independent principality,—three hundred
towns and villages, many of them of considerable size,
acknowledged the authority of the kings of Granada. Of these, fifty
were of sufficient importance to be provided with mosques, presided
over by the expounders of the Koran. In accordance with the
customs of the Orient, the inhabitants of each manufacturing district
exercised a single occupation, the knowledge of which had been
transmitted from father to son through many generations. Baza
produced the finest silks, whose beauty and delicacy of texture
surpassed the famous fabrics of the Chinese and the Byzantine
looms,—those destined for the use of royalty being interwoven with
the portrait and the cipher of the monarch in threads of many colors
and of gold; in Albacete were forged weapons not inferior in temper
and design to the scimetars and daggers of Toledo, and damascened
with all the skill of the Syrian artificer; from the shops of Hisn-
Xubiles came furniture of ebony and sandal-wood inlaid with mother-
of-pearl and ivory, and filigree jewelry of exquisite patterns; Granada
was renowned for its enamels, its mosaics curiously wrought and
fused with the precious metals, its woollens, its silk brocades, and its
coral-colored pottery whose polished surface was flecked with
particles of gold. Other towns were distinguished for manufactures
of equal utility and beauty; castings and implements of bronze;
silken veils and mantles; leathern hangings embossed and gilt with
all the elegance of a sumptuously covered volume,—a legacy of the
Ommeyade capital, from whence the material derived its name of
Cordovan; paper of great fineness and durability made from flax and
cotton; and mats of palm and esparto, soft and flexible, and dyed
with brilliant colors.
The culminating point of this marvellous development of
architectural magnificence, commercial prosperity, and intellectual
culture was the ancient Moorish capital. From its peculiar situation
and the color of its buildings, it had early received the romantic and
appropriate appellation of Hisn-al-Romman, The Castle of the
Pomegranate. The plain, or Vega, which extended in a semicircle
before it, for a distance of ten leagues, resembled a garden evoked
by the genius of enchantment. The roads which traversed it were
bordered with hedges of myrtle, mingled with orange- and lemon-
trees, and overshadowed by the palm and the cypress. Everywhere
the ear was greeted with the grateful sound of murmuring waters,
whose channels were concealed by the dense vegetation that grew
along the banks. Above the foliage of laurel and oleander appeared
the red-tiled roofs of picturesque cottages, whose snowy walls were
often entirely covered with the roses trained upon them. In the
poetic imagery of the Arab they were likened to “so many Orient
pearls set in a cup of emerald.” Towering above all other structures,
and projected against the azure depths of an Andalusian sky, were
the minarets of numerous mosques, inlaid with colored tiles, belted
with gorgeous inscriptions, sparkling with gold. In the spacious court
of each of these temples was a marble fountain, and rows of
orange-trees and odoriferous shrubs, whose fragrance, wafted
through lofty doors and stucco lattices, permeated the interior. A
hundred and thirty mills, whose wheels were turned by the swift
currents of the Genil and the Darro, were required to grind the
produce of the abundant harvests and to supply the capital with
bread. Within the walls of that capital, which, with their thousand
towers, enclosed a vast and thickly settled area, were the homes of
more than five hundred thousand people. Access was obtained by
means of twenty gates. The principal ones of town and palace were
those of the Tower of the Seven Stories, and of Justice. The former,
of grand and imposing dimensions, was faced with the beautiful
marble of Macael, exquisitely carved. The latter, still one of the most
striking memorials of the Moorish domination, faced the holy shrine
of Mecca.
In the mercantile portion of the city the streets were so crooked
and narrow that a single armed horseman could barely traverse
them, a condition attributable to climatic and defensive precautions;
the interminable bazaars were composed of a multitude of little
shops modelled after those of the great Moslem communities of the
East; the public buildings—the mosques, the colleges, the hospitals,
the insane asylums—were upon a scale of magnificence elsewhere
unknown, and scarcely exceeded by those of the khalifate during the
period of its greatest splendor. The baths, whose institution and
adornment the luxurious Moslem regarded as a part of his religion,
were embellished with precious mosaics and many-colored marbles,
and surrounded by beautiful gardens filled with fragrant and
delicious flowers. The Spanish Moslem never suffered himself to
forget that water had ever been the most precious treasure of his
Bedouin ancestors. Its offer was the first and an indispensable
courtesy to a guest. Always in sight in private houses, it dripped
from the sides of porous alcarrazas; or, in the palaces of the emirs,