The weakness of a sovereign and the arrogance of a tyrannical minister, provoking the defection of the Andalusian commanders, had decided the fate of the Saracen empire in Spain. Other disasters, apparently as serious, had been retrieved by the able emirs, generals, and statesmen who from time to time controlled the policy of that empire in the Peninsula. Other successes, not less brilliant, had been neutralized by the indecision, the incompetency, the national prejudices, or the personal rivalry of the conquerors. The battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, however, was one of the most decisive of the great struggles in which the Christian and the Moslem powers of the West contended for imperial supremacy. An interval of five centuries—a period signalized by almost incessant hostility—separates it from the field of the Guadalete. During that time a great monarchy had arisen, had reached the summit of military renown, literary excellence, and scientific culture, and had fallen, dragging with it the imposing fabric of civilization erected at such cost and under such favorable auspices as to encourage the hope that through the influence of its beneficent institutions and from the glorious example of its success might be effected the thorough and permanent regeneration of Europe. The khalifate had been succeeded by an era of anarchy, persecution, ruin. The fairest provinces of the Peninsula had been repeatedly abandoned to the savage hordes of the Sahara and to the equally ferocious warriors of the North. More than once, in the pursuit of their common prey, these fierce invaders, dissimilar in all the physical characteristics which distinguish the different races of humanity, yet strangely alike in the mental instincts peculiar to the unlettered and superstitious barbarian, who respects no influence but that of superior force, and despises every profession but that of arms, had encountered each other on fields of terrific battle. Amidst the confusion engendered by perpetual conflict, the individuality of the region which once was the centre of the Ommeyade empire was lost. Its provinces, sufficiently extensive and opulent to be ranked as kingdoms, were subdivided into scores of insignificant principalities. The imperial metropolis,—the centre of Faith, the destination of the pilgrim, the home of art and poetry, the emporium of commerce,—stripped of her honors and her wealth, was degraded to the position of a provincial city. Every district had its sovereign, every town its court, every castle its lord. National unity, so difficult to establish and preserve among a people whose traditions were based upon tribal prejudice and individual independence, now became utterly impossible. With each influx of foreigners came fresh cause for discord. The energies of the innumerable rulers, who, through superior address or more propitious fortune, had obtained the government of the Peninsula, instead of being directed to their mutual preservation were utilized for each other’s discomfiture. Alliances were formed with the infidel. Important fortresses were unhesitatingly surrendered to secure his favor. His garrisons were introduced into strongholds in the very heart of the Moslem territory. The Koran and the crucifix were carried side by side in campaigns against loyal and orthodox sectaries of Mohammed. In spite of the danger of familiarizing the Christian enemy with the position and strength of their defences, in spite of the well-known duplicity of that enemy in dealing with adversaries of another creed, a policy utterly subversive of national autonomy was encouraged. The fatal passions of the Desert, dormant for many centuries, revived with tenfold vigor. The relentless spirit of vengeance dominated every other feeling. A chieftain whose dominions embraced but a few square miles, whose castle was perched upon some isolated peak, and whose army numbered a few hundred banditti, cared not so much for the plunder by which he lived as for the destruction of his neighbor. The powerful emir, who governed great cities and aspired to the most grandiloquent titles of royalty, indulged without restraint his hereditary instincts of national, sectional, or tribal hatred. In vain wise statesmen, whose sagacity predicted the impending downfall of the Moslem power, represented the necessity for organization against the common foe. With sorrow those in whom the feelings of public spirit and pious zeal were not extinguished saw principality after principality enriched with the spoils of Moorish cities and, sustained by the aid of Moorish tribute, exalted to the rank of Christian kingdoms. With an apathy peculiar to those blinded by prejudice, the more bigoted partisans viewed the foundation and growth of a new state which, after many vicissitudes and reverses, having fixed its capital at the mouth of the Tagus, soon equalled in influence and wealth the more ancient kingdoms of Leon, Castile, and Aragon. Instead of there being one direction from which to expect the enemy, he now descended on every side. The Moslem territory was completely surrounded. The limits of that territory were annually contracting. The great naval powers of Italy dominated the Mediterranean. They were intimately connected with the Christian sovereignties of Spain; their aid had been conspicuously instrumental in effecting the capture of Almeria; their fleets were at the disposal of the Holy See, from which now issued bull after bull summoning the Faithful to new crusades in the Peninsula. Principally through this impulse, the armies of the Spanish princes were largely recruited from the most brutal and degraded populations in the world. Of these, returned adventurers from Palestine and outlawed bandits from England, France, and Italy formed no inconsiderable proportion. Such was the totally unprincipled character of these allies, that they did not hesitate, when opportunity offered, to plunder those in whose service they had voluntarily enlisted. Under such circumstances, the ferocity of the conflict, already sufficiently violent, was intensified. The use of torture became more frequent. The massacre of prisoners on the eve of a retreat became a popular method of disposing of such encumbrances to flight. Familiarity with scenes of horror, continued through many generations, has left an indelible impress on the character and demeanor of the Spaniard, whose name was long a synonym for cruelty.

The want of mutual co-operation among the Christian states prolonged for more than a century the Moslem domination in the south of Spain. The Emirate of Saragossa, distracted by intestine quarrels, was the first northern principality to succumb to the encroachments of its warlike neighbors. Then followed the opening of the Ebro to the sea, the conquest of the Algarves, or Portugal, the further extension of the frontier of Castile. Repeated forays obliterated the vegetation of vast districts which had once exhibited the marvellous results of Moorish industry. The massacre or deportation of large communities destroyed in an hour what it had required centuries to create,—a numerous and thrifty population. The Arabs, whose genius had developed the civilization of the Khalifate of Cordova, had been exterminated by civil war or absorbed by the barbarian multitudes which swelled to enormous numbers the annual tide of African immigration. As has already been many times remarked, the principles of the Moslem polity were naturally and necessarily antagonistic to permanent political union. So long as similar conditions prevailed among the Christians, the fabric of Moorish power, however shaken, was apparently secure. But as soon as factions which divided the population of the various kingdoms were reconciled, as soon as those kingdoms, instead of being arrayed against each other, presented an unbroken front to the common enemy, the decayed edifice of Moslem grandeur crumbled into dust. The victory of Las Navas was the starting-point of a new era. From it dates the real power of the Spanish monarchy, whose states, not yet united, but governed by valiant and energetic princes, now first began to exhibit indications of that portentous influence destined subsequently to overshadow the continents of America and Europe. A great advance was made by the kingdom of Castile after the battle of Las Navas de Tolosa. It at once assumed a higher rank in the society of nations. New lustre was imparted to its name. Increased prestige became the portion of its sovereign. Alfonso sent to Rome the tent, the lance, and the standard of the Sultan,—trophies, considering that they typified the destruction of Moslem power in the West, of great and far-reaching significance. The glory of the achievement was purely national. It was shared by no foreigners. The allies, from whom so much had been expected, had basely retired in the face of the enemy, and the contest had been decided by Spanish skill and Spanish valor. Henceforth the policy of the Christians was aggressive; their forces, consolidated and fighting under the same banners, were no longer dissipated in domestic feuds or wasted in the fruitless conflicts of rival interests. The importance of the victory is demonstrated by the fact that it was the first decisive step in the triumphal march which conducted the Christian arms from the banks of the Tagus to the walls of Granada.

After a halt of three days, the victorious army proceeded southward. Baños and Tolosa fell into its hands. At its approach the people of Baeza evacuated that city in terror. The mosque was occupied by wounded fugitives from the battle-field of Las Navas, who had resorted to its precincts as to a sanctuary, hoping that the cruelty of their pursuers would respect the sacred character of the edifice where they had sought an asylum. Their expectation was vain. The mosque, with its helpless inmates, was at once set on fire and consumed. Then the Christians besieged Ubeda. This city was one of the most flourishing and populous in Northern Andalusia. Refugees from Baeza had increased the number of its inhabitants to nearly a hundred thousand. Its defences were strong, its garrison was brave, but Italian engineers in the service of Castile mined its walls and opened a practicable breach. Apprehensive of the consequences of an assault, the Moors endeavored to negotiate for safety. In exchange for the unmolested possession of their homes and the practice of their religion, they offered a million maravedis of gold. These terms were agreed to by the Christian princes, whose power, nominally paramount, was in fact subordinated to the authority of the clergy, already accustomed to dictate the policy of courts and the movements of armies. The dignitaries of the Church in a body protested against such indulgence to infidels. Their pious remonstrances prevailed, and the treaty, which had already received the assent of both parties, was revoked. Another was then framed by which the Moslems were allowed to peaceably evacuate the city, with the privilege of retaining their personal effects. The ransom which they themselves had suggested was required as a preliminary security, and the delay in its payment afforded a plausible excuse for the exercise of violence. The cupidity of the prelates and the soldiers was aroused by the sight of the accumulated wealth of a thriving community now in their grasp, and the signal was secretly given for outrage and massacre. In the frightful scenes that followed, sixty thousand of the inhabitants of Ubeda perished under the most aggravating circumstances of lust and cruelty; the remainder were condemned to servitude; the portable wealth was appropriated by the conquerors, and the place itself was utterly destroyed. The occupation of the city by the Saracens dated from the invasion of Tarik. From that time it had never been besieged by a Christian foe. It contained a large number of Jews, whose property, amassed by generations of traffic and extortion, made a welcome addition to the spoils of war. Its great extent was an alleged reason for its destruction, for the King of Castile is said to have stated as the motive of such vandalism, “We should never have had people enough to inhabit it.” Such were the deeds sanctioned by the clergy and perpetrated under the direction of royal champions of the Faith, by whose instrumentality the Christian religion was re-established in the Peninsula.

The capture of Ubeda closed a campaign which, so gloriously begun, might, if vigorously pursued, have driven the disorganized and terror-stricken Moslems into the sea. But to the Christian soldiery the only valuable advantage to be obtained from any victory was a temporary release from the restraints of discipline. The orgies which accompanied the taking of Ubeda greatly impaired the effectiveness and diminished the numbers of the invading army. Debauchery and disease soon avenged the misfortunes of the Moslems. Thousands, chafing at the confinement of the camp and anxious to enjoy the fruits of their prowess, openly deserted. The pious enthusiasm of the King of Castile was abated by the discouraging circumstances of his situation; his scruples were removed by the casuistry of prelates whose zeal had been cooled by the lion’s share of the booty, and the crusade which had recently threatened with conquest the whole of Andalusia was postponed to a more convenient and propitious opportunity.

The Sultan Mohammed quitted with the utmost celerity the country which had been the scene of his humiliation and defeat. After appointing his son, Yusuf-Abu-Yakub, to the succession, he retired to the seclusion of his palace, where with the solace of wine and beauty he endeavored unsuccessfully to forget the failure of his aspirations and the destruction of that army whose numbers had not inaptly been compared to the sands of the Desert for multitude. His end is said to have been hastened by poison administered by the officials of the court, who saw, with disgust and apprehension, a reign begun with every prospect of success and glory unprofitably and ignominiously prolonged in the midst of personal degradation and national misfortune.

The military operations of the ensuing year were checked by a disastrous famine which, through a total failure of the harvests, afflicted the kingdom of Castile. The characteristic improvidence of a people unaccustomed to anticipate or counteract the effects of such a contingency aggravated the public distress. The highways, the fields, the banks of streams were strewn with moaning and emaciated wretches helpless from privation and exposure. Contrary to the rule which ordinarily obtains during similar visitations, the mortality in the country greatly exceeded that of the towns. Vast numbers of cattle died in pastures denuded of vegetation by the drought, unclean animals were sought with avidity by the famishing, and the revolting resource of cannibalism was adopted by those in whose breasts the last feelings of humanity had been eradicated by intense and prolonged suffering. The immunity afforded the Moslems by this calamity was confirmed by renewed quarrels between the monarchs of Leon and Castile. The projects of the latter which looked to the deliverance of Spain from the Saracen yoke were destined to disappointment, for a fever, the result of inhaling an atmosphere polluted with the exhalations from thousands of decaying bodies, ended the career of the victor of Las Nevas in the fifty-ninth year of his age.

With the death of an imbecile sovereign and the accession of an infant, new and even more intolerable evils beset the unhappy Moslems of Andalusia. The provinces of the South were partitioned among the kinsmen of the successor of Mohammed, who habitually violated, in his name, every principle of honor and rectitude. The most responsible official positions were made objects of purchase. Corruption such as had never been previously known, even under the most unscrupulous of rulers, flourished in every department of the government. The four uncles of Yusuf-Abu-Yakub, who had appropriated his Peninsular inheritance, regarded the country that fortune had placed in their power as their legitimate prey. The wealthy, fortified by bribes, openly defied the execution of the laws. The poor, placed at the mercy of the inexorable tax-gatherer, were reduced to starvation. Such was the arrogance of these usurpers that they acknowledged no responsibility to any superior, and the authority of the Sultan was practically ignored in this portion of his dominions. The people, exasperated by such treatment and without hope of redress, were ready to welcome any change as a benefit, and the projects of the Christians received in the sequel no small encouragement and support from the despairing victims of Moslem tyranny. Long before the King of Castile occupied the cities of Andalusia, the way had been paved for their conquest by generations of misgovernment and oppression. After ten years passed amidst the sloth and enervating pleasures of the seraglio, Yusuf-Abu-Yakub died, without having, in reality, exercised control over his extensive empire for even a single day; nor had he, since his accession, ever issued from the gates of his capital. Abd-al-Melik, one of his numerous uncles, whose life had been passed as a dervish, and whose previous experience hardly fitted him for the arduous and practical duties of royalty, was raised by the combined voice of the nobles and the populace to the throne of the Almohades.

In Spain, the Moorish princes of the same family that had heretofore administered the affairs of the Peninsula, without regard to the claims of the court of Morocco, openly asserted their independence. The Emir of Murcia, Abu-Mohammed, by reason of age and superior talents, obtained an acknowledged ascendency over his brethren. His diligence and liberality secured many active partisans in the capital of the empire; his ambition to supplant a weak and inexperienced monarch unable to sustain the weight of a crown was approved by the populations of both Andalusia and Al-Maghreb, and the pious Abd-al-Melik returned without reluctance to the practice of a life of devotion and solitude, after having relinquished the sceptre to his able and fortunate kinsman.

It is beyond the province of this work to minutely describe the interminable intrigues, quarrels, and petty revolutions which preceded the extinction of the Mussulman power in the South of Spain. The governors of the different provinces exhausted, as usual, the resources of their subjects by constant and destructive hostility. Such as were successful were certain to be eventually overwhelmed by their recent adversaries, who invoked the ready aid of infidel allies. No permanent advantage was secured excepting by the Christians, whose cause was materially advanced by the universal prevalence of Moslem discord. Castilian troops continued to visit with devastation the fertile plains of Andalusia. Every alliance with the invaders was concluded at the expense of the Moors, who were compelled to accede without alternative to the exorbitant demands, by whose acceptance alone they could hope to retain their power. Fortresses which commanded vital points on the frontier and the passes and highways into Andalusia were surrendered as the price of military assistance in the settlement of some insignificant dispute. Among those who had thus secured the precarious and expensive friendship of the Christians was Abu-Ali-Edris, surnamed Al-Mamun, Emir of Seville. By the co-operation of Ferdinand III., King of Castile, he had dispersed an army of Africans sent to reduce him to subjection. The Castilians, not accustomed to observe the faith of treaties longer than it coincided with their immediate interest, persisted in gratifying their rapacity by destructive incursions on Moslem soil. Ferdinand, whose reputation as a saint has been somewhat tarnished by his perfidy as a sovereign and his cruelty as a soldier, directed in person these raids against his allies. His adventurous spirit carried him to the very borders of the Vega of Granada. The frontier strongholds of Priego, Loja, and Alhama fell into his hands. After menacing the capital, he laid siege to Jaen. Consideration of the character of the forces engaged in the attack and defence of this city discloses the peculiarity of this double warfare. In the army of Ferdinand was a large body of Moorish troops, of which the Emir of Baeza furnished not less than three thousand horse and twenty thousand foot. The besieged were assisted by a detachment of Christians whose nationality is not mentioned, but who were probably Spanish soldiers of fortune or Italian and French mercenaries.

The enterprise was unsuccessful; the assaults of the besiegers were vigorously repelled, and Al-Mamun, having collected an army, relieved the city and routed the Christians in a pitched battle; and the expedition heralded with such extravagant boasts and begun under the most auspicious circumstances terminated in defeat and ignominy. The spoils of conquest were relinquished, the captured fortresses were speedily retaken, and the booty abandoned in the camp before Jaen more than recompensed the soldiers of Al-Mamun for the dangers and exposure of a short and glorious campaign.

That prince was now at liberty to pursue unmolested his schemes of ambition. The incapacity of the Almohades had left the empire without a master and the capital without defence. In the absence of the sovereign, public affairs were administered by the two councils organized by the Mahdi, an institution which, through all the vicissitudes attending the development and decline of the Almohade power, had remained unchanged. With a rapidity that anticipated the swiftest courier, Al-Mamun, at the head of a strong force of cavalry, hastened to Morocco. The councillors and the sheiks who had questioned his authority and disputed his title were peremptorily summoned before him. In vain they protested their innocence. In vain they confronted the spies who had reported their treasonable and insulting speeches to the tyrant. With their families and their friends, who atoned for their relationship and attachment with a similar fate, they passed to immediate execution. Their slaves and retainers shared the fate of their unfortunate lords; and neither the weakness of youth nor the attractions of beauty availed to secure immunity from the bloody and indiscriminate sacrifice. A row of five thousand gory heads was ranged along the walls of the capital, and the sight and odor of these significant emblems of despotic cruelty effectually checked all disposition to revolt. With an insolent disregard of religious prejudice and political tact which it is difficult to comprehend, Al-Mamun denounced the name and memory of the Mahdi as that of an unscrupulous and cunning impostor. The form of government he had instituted had been already abolished by the murder of the Councillors of State. The name of the false prophet was omitted from the prayer in the mosques. His title was erased from the inscriptions of the coinage. All magistrates were prohibited from alluding to him in their decisions. These measures, adopted in defiance of public sentiment, were not conducive to the permanence of usurpation. The memory of the Mahdi was still revered by the illiterate and fanatical masses of Africa. In all ages sacrilege has been the most dangerous offence of which a monarch could be guilty; and after these impolitic exhibitions of jealousy nothing but the ferocious character of their sovereign deterred the exasperated Berbers from rebellion.

While Al-Mamun was strengthening his empire in Africa, his influence was rapidly declining in Spain. A new antagonist, well worthy to assert, in an age of national decadence, the rights of an outraged people, had arisen as the representative of Andalusian liberty. Mohammed-Ibn-Hud, who concealed under the mask of patriotism an ambition which aimed at despotic power, stood forth as the champion of the oppressed. His extraction was noble,—he was a lineal descendant of the famous dynasty of Saragossa; but no royal ancestry was required to dignify a character eminent for military genius, political sagacity, and the exercise of every princely virtue. Influential chieftains at once ranged themselves around him. His increasing power enabled him to seize and retain the Emirate of Murcia. His cause was promoted by the assurance that all taxes imposed by Almohade tyranny would be abolished, and that the Africans would be either expelled or exterminated. These pledges were speedily fulfilled. An overwhelming proportion of the inhabitants of Moorish Spain supported the claims of the alleged representative of freedom. The doctrines introduced by the Mahdi were declared schismatical, and his disciples branded as public enemies. The mosques in which their rites had been celebrated for more than a century were cleansed and rededicated with the same solicitude and ceremony as would have been displayed in the purification of Pagan temples. Those of the hostile faction who had made themselves offensively conspicuous were promptly executed; the less obnoxious were exiled. White, the official color of the followers of the Mahdi, was superseded by black, the distinguishing badge of the Abbasides; for Ibn-Hud had already publicly announced his allegiance to the khalifs of Bagdad. The revolution soon spread to the confines of the Moslem territory. The Arabs and the Andalusians avenged the accumulated evils of generations by the butchery of every African who fell into their hands. The emirs of Granada and Valencia were expelled by the exasperated populace. Al-Mamun, having undertaken to suppress the rebellion, sustained a decisive defeat at Tarifa, and the prestige of Ibn-Hud, increased by this fortunate event, now became greater than ever.

But a severe reverse was in store for this adventurer, who, elated by his success, was blinded by illusory visions of imperial splendor. Alfonso IX. of Leon, after a blockade of many months, took the city of Merida. This place, the metropolis of Lusitania in the days of the Roman Empire, was the largest and strongest of the cities of Western Spain. Its geographical position, in a measure, commanded the frontier, and its proximity to the valley of the Guadalquivir rendered its hostile occupation a constant and dangerous menace to the peace of Andalusia. No one recognized these facts more readily than Ibn-Hud, and, having for the time suspended his operations against the Sultan of Morocco, he advanced without misgivings to encounter the Christian enemy. The latter formed but a handful when compared with the Moslems, but they did not shrink from the conflict; and we are edified by the statement of the pious chronicler that St. Jago, with an innumerable host of angels, fought on the side of the champions of Christ. The Moors were defeated with great loss, and the entire province of Estremadura was, in consequence, annexed to the domain of Leon. The sovereign of that kingdom died soon afterwards, while returning from a pilgrimage to the shrine of Santiago; the credit of the Saint was greatly enhanced by this signal victory; and his apparition, mounted upon a white horse and wielding a flaming sword, was henceforth visible to the eyes of all true believers in every important engagement which resulted favorably to the Christian cause.

While in the West the policy and valor of the Kings of Castile and Leon were gradually undermining the already shattered fabric of Moslem government, in the East the prowess of another Christian hero had begun to make serious encroachments upon the fertile and populous region extending along the Mediterranean from the Alpujarras to the borders of Catalonia. The acquisition of the latter province by the crown of Aragon at once raised that kingdom to a prominent rank among the sovereignties of Western Europe. From a comparatively unknown inland power it was at once brought into intimate contact with the principal commercial emporiums of the civilized world. The city of Barcelona, as has already been mentioned in these pages, attained at an early date a high and deserved celebrity as a centre of enterprise and industry. Its maritime facilities equalled those of any European port. In the thrift and activity of its inhabitants it was superior to all others, unless, perhaps, Venice or Genoa. Its ships and cargoes were eagerly welcomed by every trading nation. Long accustomed to a condition of independence, it had developed a naval power which scarcely yielded in number and equipment to the forces of its celebrated neighbors,—the republics of Italy. It presented the sole exception among all the Moslem communities which had submitted to the Christian arms, in that this occupancy had not produced stagnation and decay. Under the rule of its counts, its progress, instead of being retarded as in other instances, seemed to acquire a new and greater impetus. The population increased in an unusual, even a phenomenal, ratio, and soon it became one of the most opulent, one of the most polished, of cities. Its merchants were the first in Europe to perfect a system of banking and exchange. The source of Barcelona’s extraordinary commercial vitality—to which also must be attributed the energy and acuteness which distinguished its citizens—was the large Hebrew population. Numerous and intellectual under the Moors, as soon as Catalonia attained to the dignity of a virtually independent state, the Jews, save alone in the domain of religious belief, became predominant in influence. They controlled the treasury. In all but name they administered the government. Their institutions of learning instilled, without remonstrance, the most heterodox opinions into the minds of the Christian youth. Their native practitioners were, since the decline of the University of Cordova, the most learned medical men of the age. The unreasonable prejudice attaching to the nationality and the faith of the Barcelona surgeon did not prevent his employment by the most bigoted princes of Christendom. The presence of such an accomplished, shrewd, and highly educated people could not fail to react on those with whom they were associated in daily intercourse. As a consequence, Barcelona had acquired, and indisputably merited, the reputation of being one of the most intelligent, wealthy, and cultivated communities of mediæval times. With all its advantages, there was still one serious drawback to its prosperity. The Balearic Isles, lying a hundred and fifty miles from the main-land,—which, from some inexplicable cause, have always enjoyed a consideration out of all proportion to their political or maritime importance,—were still in possession of the Moslems. They constituted a dependency of the Emirate of Valencia, having been sold by the Genoese to that principality, after having remained for a considerable period under the jurisdiction of the Counts of Barcelona. The governor, Mohammed-Ibn-Ali, who belonged to the Almohade faction, had provoked the enmity of the Catalonians by repeated acts of piracy, which were the more inexcusable as he was in no condition to defend by arms the consequences of his imprudence.

Jaime I., King of Aragon, who had planned the conquest of these islands, was now about to enter upon that career which eventually raised him to such an eminent rank among the most celebrated princes of the thirteenth century. Reared amidst exciting scenes of conquest, from childhood he seemed inspired with the martial spirit of the crusader. In the military and chivalrous exercises which formed an indispensable part of the education of every aristocratic youth, he had no superiors. Such was the formidable antagonist with whom the Moslems of Eastern Spain were now to contend for the prize of empire.

As soon as the project of Jaime had been broached to the Cortes, it was received with the acclamations of every class in his dominions. The city of Barcelona equipped the larger portion of the fleet. Among those who thus enthusiastically welcomed hostilities against the Moslem, none evinced a more energetic and liberal disposition than the clergy. The church militant was represented by many distinguished prelates, practised almost from infancy in the art of war. The Archbishop of Tarragona gave a thousand pieces of gold and a hundred loads of wheat, and, completely sheathed in steel, entered the crusaders’ camp at the head of eleven hundred well-armed men. Others responded with equal alacrity. The nobles vied in zeal and prodigality with the dignitaries of the Church. The military orders, whose duty and inclination made such an enterprise the most pious and agreeable of diversions, from far and near sought the standard of Jaime. A number of French and Genoese vessels, whose crews were more eager for Moorish spoil than for the triumph of the Cross, joined the forces of Aragon; and in the autumn of 1229 a flotilla of nearly two hundred ships set sail from the harbor of Salou for the island of Majorca.

Warned of the object of the expedition, the Moors had made extensive preparations for the reception of their enemies. A landing was effected with difficulty at Palomera, and the Christians, constantly harassed by the active mountaineers, were compelled to fight their way to the capital, then known by the name of the island, but familiar to the ancients as Palma, by which appellation it has also been designated since the seventeenth century. Heretofore comparatively free from the attacks of a besieging army, the fortifications of that city were ill-adapted to withstand the effects of the formidable appliances of war. The machines constructed by the Italian engineers at Majorca were among the most ponderous and destructive ever used in Europe. The strongest towers crumbled under the weight and impetus of the immense balls of stone projected against them. The walls were mined in several places. As soon as a breach was opened the Christians rushed to the attack, only to be repulsed by the determined courage of the besieged. In their defence the latter displayed a knowledge of war not inferior to that of their adversaries. The ramparts were equipped with engines that cast showers of missiles into the Christian camp. The destruction caused during the day by projectiles from the enemy’s catapults was repaired at night. The demolished walls were rebuilt with a celerity that awakened the amazement of the enemy. Obstinate and sanguinary encounters took place in the depths of the earth, where the mines, conducted under the walls, were intersected by countermines dug by the besieged. The latter, greatly annoyed by the stones from the tremendous engines, resorted to the strange and inhuman expedient of fastening their prisoners to crosses and raising them upon the battlements, in the hope of checking the fire of the Christians. These victims of Moorish cruelty, however, exhorted their companions not to slacken their efforts; and we are gravely informed by monkish annalists, whose faith was evidently in an inverse ratio to their veracity, that by the miraculous interposition of Heaven these candidates for martyrdom escaped without injury. At all events, the device was a failure, and, after an exposure of several hours, the captives were returned to their dungeons, and the operations of the besiegers continued with renewed and increasing energy. An attempt was next made to cut off the supply of water by diverting the course of a stream which ran through the Christian camp. But the vigilance of the Aragonese sentinels thwarted this plan at its inception. A detachment of Moslems, while engaged in the work, was surprised and put to the sword, and the head of its commander, hurled over the walls from a catapult, proclaimed to the dismayed and astonished garrison the failure of the expedition and the fate of their comrades. The spirit of the Moslems, heretofore apparently indomitable, now began to evince signs of discouragement. Nor was the plight of the Christians much better in comparison. For seven weeks the siege had continued. It was the rainy season; their camp drenched by daily storms became a quagmire, and their efforts were seriously impeded by the unfavorable conditions of their situation and the inclemency of an autumn memorable for an incessant tempest. Despite these drawbacks and the stubborn resistance of the Moors, the constancy of the besiegers remained unshaken. The admirable arrangements of Jaime had secured the establishment of an abundant commissariat. Uninterrupted communication with Barcelona gave encouraging assurance of supplies and reinforcements. The skill of the Jewish surgeons, who served on the medical staff of the Christian army, prevented the outbreak of an epidemic in the camp,—an event more to be dreaded than the weapons or the strategy of a crafty and courageous enemy. Disheartened by their reverses and doubtful of their ability to resist much longer the determined assaults of the invaders, the Moors attempted to negotiate. They agreed to defray all the expenses incurred by the campaign if the King would withdraw his forces and conclude a truce. When this proposal was rejected, they declared their willingness to surrender the capital if transportation to Africa were furnished such as desired to depart and security were guaranteed to all who chose to remain. Jaime again refused to consider a suggestion evidently dictated by a consciousness of declining strength. The pathetic significance of an indisposition to entertain favorable terms of submission was unmistakable by those familiar with the shocking enormities of mediæval warfare. It was now apparent that the city was destined to pillage. The hardships of the siege induced by the intrepidity of a people in defence of their homes were to be expiated by the awful scenes exhibited by a place taken by storm. Many of the citizens were refugees from the conquered provinces of the Peninsula; had witnessed or participated in the sack of cities, and well understood the dreadful fate that was in store for them. Nerved by the consciousness of their desperate situation, they redoubled their efforts to repel the enemy, whose engines had almost ruined a large part of the fortifications, which in several places already offered vulnerable points of attack. The besiegers began to suffer from exposure, and the King, fearful that the enthusiasm of his troops might abate if a decided advantage was not soon obtained, ordered a general assault. On the last day of the year, before dawn, the Christian camp was under arms. With all the impressive solemnities of the Catholic ritual mass was said, the sacrament was administered, and the soldiers were earnestly exhorted to fight bravely for the Faith. Before an altar erected for that purpose, the King and the nobles, drawing their swords, swore to enter the city or perish. The combined influence of cupidity and fanaticism was too strong to be successfully withstood; the assailants poured into the breach, and their weight and impetuosity overwhelmed the garrison, driving it back into the city. The conflict raged with unremitting fury in the winding streets. The women on the housetops cast down missiles of every description upon the heads of the struggling Christians. From the minaret of every mosque came the stentorian voice of the muezzin, encouraging the Moslems to renewed action and invoking the curse of Allah upon the infidel. The narrow thoroughfares and the houses solidly constructed of stone retarded the progress of the assailants. The Moors fought with desperation for their homes and their liberty; but animated by the example of their sovereign and urged on by the presence and the appeals of the ecclesiastics, who, like their antagonists, the faquis and the muezzins, took a prominent part in the battle, the Aragonese ultimately prevailed. Fifty thousand persons perished; thirty thousand were sold as slaves, and a great number found a temporary asylum in the mountains among the hospitable and sympathetic peasantry.

As the capital was the centre of a flourishing maritime trade, had been enriched with the spoils of innumerable piratical excursions, and had become the residence of many wealthy refugees from Africa, the victors obtained a magnificent booty. So great was it, indeed, that the horrors of pillage continued without cessation for eight consecutive days. Their avarice satiated, the first duty imposed upon the Christians was the purification of the city. The immense number of dead bodies, putrefying under a tropical sun, made this an unwelcome and onerous task; but the labors of the workmen were cheered and accelerated by the pious assurance of the clergy that a thousand days of pardon would be accorded them for the head of every misbeliever. The streets were cleared of the repulsive encumbrances which offended the senses and impeded traffic; the corpses of the victims of war and brutality were consumed by fire outside the walls; and the soldiers proceeded to indemnify themselves for past privations by indulgence in every kind of debauchery.

Their excesses produced a contagious and fatal distemper, whose ravages, baffling the skill of the best physicians, completed the havoc of the sword, and the army became so reduced in numbers and efficiency that operations were suspended until reinforcements could be obtained. Fourteen months in all were required for the subjugation of the island. The native population was enslaved, and the fruits of conquest were equitably apportioned among the victors. The conquered territory, especially exempted from the burden of taxation, became the property of those by whose valor it had been acquired; and Majorca passed forever from the jurisdiction of the Successors of Mohammed. Its favorable situation and delightful climate attracted many colonists from the kingdoms of Southern Europe, and before many years the losses in population it had sustained by war were repaired; the preponderance of Moorish characteristics gradually disappeared; and a quarter of a century had not elapsed before Majorca, in ignorance and orthodoxy, could challenge competition with the most bigoted state in Christendom. The island was erected into a fief of the crown, and twelve years after its occupation Minorca and Ivica, profiting by the example of their more powerful neighbor, yielded, after a show of resistance, to the fame and influence of the King of Aragon. The conquest of the Balearic Isles, preceding that of Valencia—of which, indeed, it was the necessary prelude, when their dangerous proximity to the African coast is considered,—was the first and one of the most brilliant of the many exploits which reflected renown upon the career of Jaime el Conquistador.

The Almohade monarchy, following the example of almost every government established under the Moslem polity, was now rapidly hastening to its end. Its territory had been dismembered. Its prestige, founded upon a successful career in arms, had vanished. The polygamous families of the Sultans of Africa furnished, at the decease of every monarch, a formidable number of pretenders to the vacant throne. In Morocco a crowd of hostile claimants, many of whom were not allied to the descendants of Abd-al-Mumen, and whose only titles to sovereignty were military genius and personal popularity, contended with indifferent and varying success for the possession of imperial power. Independent emirates arose at Mequinez and Tlemcen. Al-Maghreb was distracted with sedition, massacre, civil war. The contagion of strife infected every class of the hot-blooded population of Northern Africa. An opportunity for rapine, so congenial to the tastes of the Bedouin and the Berber, was not long neglected by the predatory tribes of the Desert, and the Sahara was again made the scene of organized brigandage and guerilla warfare. The fragments of the great empire founded by the Mahdi were no longer capable of reunion. Their cohesive power, dependent on superstitious awe, individual merit, and popular admiration, was destroyed; the fatal conflicts which for years exhausted the energies of antagonistic factions had extirpated every vestige of national ambition and religious zeal; the noble sentiment of patriotism, always weak in the breast of a barbarian, even when accustomed to civilized life, was now completely subordinated to private enmity; universal discord rendered effective resistance to an enemy impossible; and the last of the Almohades, Edris-Abu-Dibus, perished, a century and a half after the advent of the Mahdi, in a skirmish with the troops of an obscure adventurer.

Conditions similar to those prevailing in Africa occupied the attention and destroyed the efficiency of the Mussulmans of Spain. With every year, with the inauguration of each successive potentate of magnificent pretensions and insignificant following, factional hatred was intensified. The Christians, by cession, by purchase, by conquest, were rapidly acquiring the territory once embraced by the khalifate of Cordova, which had been the prize of Moslem valor and the seat of Moslem faith. The authority of the representative of the Almohades was confined to a narrow district which scarcely extended beyond the environs of Seville. The enemies of Islam pressed daily upon the shrunken confines of the rich and extensive domain conquered by the soldiers of Tarik and Musa, made illustrious by three centuries of military success and intellectual progress under the Ommeyades, and degraded by the African sultans to humiliating dependence on a barbarian monarchy. In the West, the rich provinces of Lusitania and the Algarves had been absorbed by Portugal. In the East, the steady progress of the King of Aragon portended the approaching extinction of the Mussulman power. The principality of Guadix had assumed the dignity of a kingdom under the first prince of the Alhamares, a dynasty eventually destined to revive the departed glories of Cordova in the new metropolis of Granada. That entire region of the Peninsula which was still subject to Moslem rule was distracted by the implacable feuds of aspirants to the disrupted empire of the Almohades. The impracticability of again uniting the discordant constituents of that empire was not understood, or even considered. The rival contestants sacrificed every consideration of patriotic and religious duty to the gratification of their revenge or the furtherance of their ambition. Their subjects beheld with apprehension and disgust the purchase of Christian aid against their brethren by the payment of extravagant subsidies and the surrender of the bulwarks of the frontier. They saw the resources wasted which, if properly employed, might have redeemed from infidel occupation vast tracts of territory whose fertility had once been the pride of the industrious people of Andalusia. They saw their own arms turned upon their neighbors, when the combined efforts of both would have sufficed, if not to successfully resist, at least to check the progress of the common foe. Three princes indiscriminately arrayed against each other occupied an unenviable prominence in this suicidal conflict. In the West, Yahya, the former Almohade sovereign, held Seville. In the East, his nephew Mohammed-al-Ahmar and the celebrated partisan Mohammed-Ibn-Hud contended for the possession of the provinces of Murcia and Granada. The latter, in the ignoble desire to satiate his vengeance, had secured from the Castilians temporary immunity from molestation by the daily payment of a thousand pieces of gold. This ignominious contract was at length rescinded on account of the remonstrances and threats of the Andalusians, whose fields were ravaged in security by Christian marauders, while Moslem partisans were cutting each others’ throats under the walls of Murcia. Ibn-Hud, after a campaign which terminated with little glory and still less honor for either party, succeeded in compelling the Christians to retreat,—a step which they anticipated by the slaughter of their captives. Repeated raids into the southern provinces were gradually but surely preparing the way for Christian supremacy. Relying upon the additional prestige acquired by his recent advantage over the Castilians, Ibn-Hud negotiated a treaty with Ferdinand, which stipulated for a cessation of hostilities for four years. The results of this negotiation indicate the slight regard for the most sacred agreements entertained by a prince whose services to the Church have procured for him the questionable honor of canonization. No engagement could have been assumed under more solemn circumstances. The treaty was ratified by the signatures, by the oaths, by the pledges of regularly authorized representatives of the contracting parties. An enormous sum of gold was paid by the Moslem as a preliminary consideration. But priestly casuistry and royal ambition had little respect in times of universal ignorance for the maintenance of national honor or the observance of public faith. The prelates whispered in the ear of the King that it was an established principle of the ecclesiastical polity that no contract was binding which was entered into with an enemy of Christ. The suggestion was in thorough accordance with the views of Ferdinand, accustomed, moreover, to implicit obedience to the directions of his spiritual counsellors. A rare and tempting opportunity was offered to violate the agreement entered into with the Saracens, for which the price had already been received. The attention of the latter—who fancied themselves secure from foreign hostility—had been diverted from their hereditary foe, and was now concentrated on each other. Civil war was raging on the borders of Granada, where Mohammed-Ibn-Hud and Mohammed-al-Ahmar were engaged in a desperate struggle for the possession of Eastern Andalusia. In consequence of this, as well as of the presumed inviolability of the treaty, the entire valley of the Guadalquivir had been stripped of troops. The open country was practically defenceless. The garrisons of the great cities were insufficient to resist a siege. Exhausted by a long series of inroads, the peasants were beginning to again cultivate their farms and rebuild their desolate homes. No one suspected that the storm was about to break forth more furiously than ever. Repeated examples of Christian perfidiousness had been insufficient to teach the Moslems to what depths ecclesiastical infamy, in the prosecution of schemes of worldly advantage, was ready to descend.

Some Moorish prisoners, whom the commander of a small detachment of freebooters was about to send to execution as the most convenient way of disposing of them, promised, in return for their lives, to place the eastern suburb of Cordova, which virtually commanded the city, in the hands of the Christians. The proposal was too alluring to be declined; the risk of failure was not considered; and, in an age characterized by the most foolhardy and romantic exploits, the greater the danger the more fascinating it appeared to the audacious spirits who lived upon the excitements of border warfare. During a stormy night in the month of January, 1236, the assailing party, numbering but a few hundred, advanced in silence to scale the walls of one of the largest Moslem cities of the. Peninsula, which, although greatly diminished in population since the era of the khalifate, still contained more than a hundred thousand inhabitants. A few agile soldiers succeeded in reaching the ramparts; the guard was surprised and despatched, and the gate was at once thrown open to their comrades. The suburb thus entered by the Christians was one of the five principal quarters or wards into which the metropolis of Moorish Spain had been originally divided. Completely isolated from the remainder of the capital by a line of fortifications, it gave an enemy far greater facilities for defence than the mere penetration into a walled town of ordinary character would have afforded. The first intimation of their misfortune was communicated to the citizens at daybreak by the tumult which accompanied the inauguration of pillage and murder. Taken completely by surprise and hemmed in on every side, there was no possibility of effectual resistance and but little hope of escape. The garrison issued from the citadel, but were unable to dislodge the Christians, who, inured by long practice to similar encounters, and favored by the tortuous streets and by the towers occupied by the cross-bowmen, easily held their ground against overwhelming odds. But notwithstanding their temporary success, their situation was desperate. It was hardly possible that so small a force would be able to maintain itself in the centre of a hostile community until reinforcements could arrive. Yet such was the undaunted resolve of the assailants, who, now besieged in turn, were subjected to the harassing effects of unremitting conflict. Messengers requesting aid had been early sent to Alvar Perez, the commandant of the frontier, and to King Ferdinand at Leon. The knights of Calatrava and Alcantara responded with eagerness to the call to arms, and with these and a considerable body of militia, to whom were confided the patrol and defence of the border, the Castilian general hastened to Cordova.

When he received the message, Ferdinand was at a banquet. His martial followers learned with exultation of the prospect of a new campaign, and the scene of mirth and festivity was at once exchanged for the stern and serious preparations for war. The season was most unpropitious to military operations. The winter rains had flooded the country, raised the streams far beyond their banks, and rendered the roads impassable. A long and toilsome journey separated the capitals of Leon and Andalusia. But nothing could daunt the spirit of the Castilian and Leonese chivalry, whose religious fervor and martial enthusiasm were augmented and stimulated by the example of their king. The exigencies of the situation would not tolerate delay. Communication with remote districts was difficult, and but three hundred horsemen could be raised to follow Ferdinand in an expedition which promised far more danger than glory. The Christians surrounded at Cordova formed but an insignificant force, wholly inadequate, it would at first appear, to the conquest of a strong and populous capital. But fortune, which had so frequently aided in promoting the designs of Spanish audacity, again interposed in favor of the champions of the Cross. In their extremity, the Cordovans had repeatedly implored Mohammed-Ibn-Hud, whose army was encamped at Ecija, to raise the siege before more Castilian troops arrived. Had these requests been heeded, the utter destruction of the Castilians could hardly have been prevented. That cautious leader, however, entertained a wholesome dread of the prowess of his enemies, and hesitated to confront in battle, even when the conditions were all in his favor, the redoubtable warriors of the North. He delayed, he temporized, he sent renegade spies into the Christian camp, who, having been detected, seized the opportunity to stipulate for pardon on condition of their return of false reports to the Moorish general. Their representations of the exaggerated numbers of and hourly increasing accessions to the Castilian army were believed; Ibn-Hud declined to risk his power upon the event of a single engagement, and the Cordovans beheld with sorrow and indignation the disappearance of their only hope of escape. Retribution soon overtook the vacillating and too credulous Moslem prince. The siege of Valencia had been formed by the King of Aragon, and the entreaties of its Emir had more weight with Ibn-Hud than the plaintive appeals of his other imperilled countrymen. While on his march to reinforce that monarch he halted at Almeria. That city was governed by a secret partisan of Mohammed-al-Ahmar, who saw in this unexpected visit a convenient opportunity to increase his favor with his patron. A magnificent banquet was prepared, and the noble and wealthy merchants of Almeria contended with each other in honoring the distinguished guest. The choicest wines of Spain were provided in the greatest variety and profusion for the canonically prohibited, but none the less acceptable, entertainment of the assembled Moslems. At a late hour Ibn-Hud was conducted to his chamber and drowned in the basin of a fountain by slaves who had received their instructions from the governor himself. His death was officially attributed to apoplexy resulting from intoxication; but popular suspicion was not slow in tracing to its true origin the sudden end of the victim of broken faith and perfidious hospitality.

By the assassination of Mohammed-Ibn-Hud was removed the greatest remaining obstacle to Castilian conquest. He alone, of all the Moorish potentates of Spain, had refused to barter Moslem territory for Christian aid. When his political necessities required the co-operation of the infidel power, that power was reluctantly purchased with gold, and not with the surrender of fortresses to be used as a basis for hostile operations, and which could never be regained. He was the most prominent representative of Hispano-Arab nationality that had appeared for generations in the Peninsula. In opposition to him were arrayed the various elements which, in many respects mutually inimical, combined either purposely or unconsciously for the subversion of the Saracen empire, the greed and brutality of the Berbers, the fanaticism of the theologians, the hopeless aspirations of a horde of princely adventurers, the indomitable energy and perseverance of the Christian sovereigns. Against these destructive agencies Ibn-Hud conducted a brave but hopeless struggle. Prejudice against African domination had been aggravated by centuries of crime and oppression. But Berber influence was still potent in many communities, and in some predominantly so. Immigration and intermarriage had contributed largely to consolidate and preserve the power originally obtained by violence. Ibn-Hud was in no sense the champion of the clergy. He was accused of atheism; his speech was often blasphemous, and he was habitually addicted to immoderate indulgence in wine. But these faults would have been readily condoned by ecclesiastical indulgence if their possessor had exhibited an edifying subserviency to the ministers of religion. Instead of this, however, he lost no opportunity of turning the hypocritical professions of the faquis into ridicule, a course which, by alienating a numerous and influential sect, materially accelerated the hour of Christian triumph. The suicidal behavior of the petty rulers and soldiers of fortune who indulged the fallacious hope of empire has already been repeatedly alluded to in this work. United, they might have deferred for a time the inevitable day of reckoning for official misconduct and national corruption; separated and hostile, they destroyed the basis of all power and social organization, and the stability of none so quickly as their own.

The murder of Ibn-Hud caused the immediate disbanding of his troops, and the investment of Cordova proceeded without fear of interference from an army which, properly commanded, could easily have raised the siege. Ali-Ibn-Yusuf, the brother of the dead prince, obtained the Emirate of Murcia, of which, however, he was soon deprived by assassination through the instrumentality of Mohammed-al-Ahmar, and, together with the principality of Almeria, it was added to the territory of the rising kingdom of Granada.

Their desertion by Ibn-Hud and the intelligence of his tragic death struck the citizens of Cordova with terror. Notwithstanding his pusillanimous conduct, they had still hoped that he might ultimately effect their deliverance. Now, however, there was no one to whom they could turn for succor. News of the important enterprise in which the King of Castile and Leon was engaged had already spread to the most distant settlements of the Christian territory. Citizen and peasant, noble and mountaineer, braving the inclemency of an unfavorable season and the dangers of swollen torrents and flooded highways, hastened to the seat of war. The dismay of the besieged increased with each shout which announced the arrival of a new detachment at the Castilian camp. The Christians made frequent and desperate attempts to carry the place by storm. The garrison was worn out with the fatigue it was compelled to undergo; and the effeminate and disorderly populace were ill-qualified to perform the duties of soldiers. Walls and towers were tottering under the blows of the military engines. The suddenness of the attack had found the city, which, nominally protected by a truce, dreamed of nothing less than a siege, entirely unprovided with supplies. Food became scarce. It was manifest that the inevitable destiny of the ancient metropolis of the Ommeyade khalifate could not long be postponed. Actuated by motives of self-preservation and humanity, the Moorish authorities determined to make terms with the King, and to avoid if possible the awful calamities which had been visited upon so many of the unfortunate cities of Andalusia. The capitulation was made under the distressing conditions usually imposed in such cases upon the vanquished. The inhabitants were required to abandon everything and to depart from the province. As the long and weeping train of penniless exiles passed out of the gates on one side the conquerors entered on the other. It was with the greatest display of military and ecclesiastical pomp that the Christians took possession of the famous Moslem capital. The old walls echoed the tread of mailed squadrons, the stirring notes of the trumpet, and the solemn chants of the clergy, who, in all the splendor of glittering vestments, jewelled censer, and crucifix, occupied the post of honor in the procession. The royal standard of Castile and Leon was planted on the highest tower of the fortifications. It was with wonder, not altogether unmingled with reverence, that the ignorant and ruffian soldiery viewed the exquisite beauty of the Great Mosque,—the shrine which, venerated as a sanctuary, had invited the pilgrimage of the devout of distant nations; the temple which had been enriched by the emulous munificence of the most opulent and polished princes of Europe; the edifice which, alone of all the marvellous architectural creations of the Hispano-Arab age of gold, had survived intact the fury of religious discord, the tumult of revolution, the extinction of dynasties, the destruction of empires. Amidst the vicissitudes of invasion, conquest, and revolt, a veneration akin to idolatry had always invested the Djalma of Abd-al-Rahman. The exterior still glowed with the warm and brilliant coloring of the Orient. The court-yard still exhibited in its diversified horticulture the capricious taste of the Andalusian gardener. Inside, the presence of the myriads of pious worshippers who had trodden its interminable aisles in the course of five eventful centuries had left few permanent traces. The pattern of the elegant pavement was partially effaced. Within the Mihrab—the centre of the little sanctuary which looked towards the temple of Mecca—a channel deeply worn in the marble floor indicated where countless pilgrims, in imitation of the ceremonies of the Kaaba, had seven times made its circuit on their knees. These, however, were the sole but eloquent testimonials of the continuous devotion of fifteen generations. The walls were hung with that richly embossed and decorated leather whose name indicated the Ommeyade capital as the place of its invention and manufacture. The ceiling sparkled in the semi-obscurity with its gilded pendentives and silver stars. Upon the arches of the Mihrab appeared in untarnished beauty the dazzling mosaics which had been the pride of the Byzantine artisan. The treasures of the mosque, the mimbar, or pulpit, the chandeliers, lamps, and censers, were all, save one, in their accustomed places. The most precious object of Moslem reverence, the Koran of Othman, regarded as the talisman of Spain, had been carried away to Africa by the Almohade monarch, Abd-al-Mumen, and with its departure, according to the superstitious belief of the devout, had vanished the last warrant of the security of Moslem power. That ornament of the Mihrab—the relic stained with the blood of a martyred khalif, the first of a race whose martial energy and literary endowments were destined to dignify and honor the royalty of Islam—was now in the hands of foreign and inappreciative barbarians. From the ceiling were suspended the bells of the church of Santiago, placed there by the great Al-Mansur, significant trophies of the victorious career of that most renowned of Moorish commanders. But once before in its history had this splendid temple, which, in public estimation, was inferior in holiness only to the mosques of Mecca and Jerusalem, been desecrated by the presence of the infidel. Now, however, it was eternally lost to the religion for the celebration of whose rites it had been founded. The Mussulman pilgrim, attracted by the reputation of its sanctity and the fame of its unrivalled magnificence, could henceforth no more invoke the name of the Prophet within its venerable walls.

The vast edifice was almost deserted as the Christian procession, headed by the greatest prelates of Spain, filed slowly through its portals. A few of the attendants peered curiously from behind the pillars at the splendid array, whose appearance was the ominous signal of the final suppression of the Mohammedan faith in the Peninsula. Amidst the prayers of the priests and the shouts of the soldiery, the cross was raised upon the cupola of the Mihrab. In accordance with the prescribed ceremonies of the Roman Catholic ritual, the edifice was cleansed of the abominations presumed to have infected it under the ministrations of another and a hostile belief. The mosque was dedicated as a cathedral, whose see was enriched with donations of some of the most valuable estates of the conquered territory. In pious retribution for the sacrilege which had appropriated them, the bells of Santiago were returned to the church from which they had been taken upon the shoulders of Moorish captives. The latter, as they painfully traversed the extensive regions that separated the plains of Andalusia from the cheerless Galician solitudes—regions which once trembled at the very mention of Moslem heroes—might well reflect upon the transitory character of religious faith and the instability of human greatness.

The compulsory evacuation of Cordova struck a blow at its prosperity from which it never recovered. With natural advantages enjoyed by few communities, it remains to this day the most poverty-stricken and stagnant of the great cities of Spain. Its vitality is preserved by the wealth and resources of its ecclesiastical establishment alone. Its markets are deserted, its thoroughfares grass-grown and silent. A grotesque and tawdry church rises in the very centre of the mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, impairing its symmetry, and furnishing an eternal monument to the folly and prejudices of a fanatical priesthood. The banished population carried with it a thrift and an industry which centuries have not been able to replace. Many arts, brought to a high degree of perfection, disappeared with its expulsion. The walls begun by the Cæsars, and greatly extended by the princes of the House of Ommeyah, embraced within their circumference the original area of the once populous Moslem capital. Time, however, had dealt severely with that far-famed city. Entire quarters had been depopulated by the fury of rebellion, the vicissitudes of political fortune, the ravages of conquest. Streets, formerly crowded with merchants and brokers of every clime, were impassable from the accumulated rubbish of demolished houses. The alcazar, which adjoined the mosque, was a dismantled ruin. The rage of the populace and the vandalism of African invaders had swept away the palaces whose number and elegance had awakened the admiration of every beholder. The villas of the suburbs had disappeared. The lovely gardens, in whose culture and preservation had been exhibited the utmost perfection of horticultural art, were now impenetrable thickets, from whose tangled depths, here and there, rose a heap of fallen columns or a broken horseshoe arch. Under the khalifate, the Valley of the Guadalquivir was so thickly settled as to present the appearance of one vast community, and from Cordova to Andujar countless villages attested the fertility of the soil and the thoroughness of its cultivation. At the time of the Christian occupation this region had become a desert, and a desert it has since remained. For the intelligence and energy of the Moslem were substituted the sloth and ignorance of the monk; ecclesiastical councils, in which were solemnly discussed the alleged inspired origin of absurd dogmas, usurped the place of the literary assemblies of the khalifs; and the monastery and the episcopal palace, with their secret crimes and open vices, rose upon the ruins of institutions of learning whose instruction had developed the greatest minds of Europe, and whose influence and principles had dignified even the papal throne.

While the Castilians were prosecuting their important campaign in the West, the genius of the King of Aragon was again asserting itself in the principality of Valencia. Under the lax system of political morality prevalent during the Middle Ages, an insignificant event was not infrequently made the pretext for a protracted and bloody war. Abu-Djomail, Emir of Valencia, for some reason deferred the delivery of tribute to Jaime, his suzerain, and the latter, elated by the conquest of Majorca, determined to make this an excuse to add to his already extensive dominions the most valuable remaining province of Spain. Profoundly politic as well as brave, the King of Aragon obtained the official sanction of Pope Gregory IX. for his meditated design, and the inauguration of a fresh crusade was proclaimed to the bold adventurers of Europe. An extraordinary tax was voted for the pious enterprise by the Cortes of Catalonia; a great army was assembled, and the campaign was begun by the siege of Burriana, a strongly fortified seaport, whose numerous garrison and maritime relations with the neighboring states of Africa promised a long and vigorous resistance. This expectation was verified to the letter. Several months elapsed before the place surrendered. It was midwinter, for the impetuosity of Jaime did not consider, in the attack on an enemy, either the disadvantages of the season or inferiority in numbers. In the conduct of this siege he displayed the qualities of an able commander even more conspicuously than he had done before Majorca. He personally directed the operations of the military engines. He led the troops to the breach. He exercised careful supervision over the camp, provided for the comfort of the soldiers, dressed the wounds of the injured, cheered with words of consolation the last moments of the dying. The severe privations it was called upon to endure damped the enthusiasm of the army. Some of the discontented nobility demanded that the siege be raised. The King refused, even in the face of the imminent desertion of a majority of his troops. While the malcontents remained sullenly in camp, he, supported only by a few faithful followers, skirmished daily with the enemy, who, having learned the condition of affairs, had assumed the offensive. At length the determination of the King prevailed, and the nobles returned to their duty. The siege was thenceforth pressed with redoubled energy, and Burriana was soon added to the long list of Jaime’s conquests. Its reduction caused the immediate surrender of the strong city of Peniscola and of a considerable number of towns in the Valencian territory. The disaffection of the Aragonese and Catalonian nobility was removed by these successes, and their fidelity was confirmed by the immediate investiture of the most distinguished of their number with the larger part of the conquered domain,—a politic measure which increased their military and feudal obligations, while it temporarily secured their attachment and gratitude.

From the day of his accession to the hour when he entered the Moorish capital in triumph, the absorbing desire of Jaime was the conquest of Valencia. The difficulties which presented themselves to the realization of this project only confirmed the resolution of the King. A few miles from the city stood the fortress of Puig. Its impregnable situation and close proximity to the metropolis of the kingdom rendered its possession highly advantageous to an army besieging Valencia. It had fallen into the hands of the Aragonese after the capitulation of Peniscola, and its defences had been greatly strengthened by the Christian engineers. During the absence of Jaime, an army of forty thousand Moslems, commanded by the Emir in person, appeared before it. The garrison was greatly inferior in numbers, but composed of picked warriors never accustomed to count their enemies excepting after a victory. Their intrepidity hardly allowed them to await the approach of the Valencians. They issued from the gates; their sudden and impetuous attack disconcerted their adversaries; and the discomfiture of a host of twenty times their number added a new trophy to the innumerable triumphs of Christian valor. The battle of Puig destroyed the confidence of the Moslems of Valencia, and they never again ventured to encounter their terrible antagonists in the open field.

Despite the favorable beginning of the campaign, the Aragonese army was daily reduced by desertions, and when, a few weeks afterwards, it encamped before Valencia, it mustered less than fifteen hundred strong. Rarely had an enterprise of such importance been undertaken with so small a force. In addition to its numerical weakness, its efficiency was impaired by a general feeling of suspicion, engendered by a lack of confidence and an absence of discipline. Many nobles abandoned their king, often without notice, taking their retainers with them. Those who remained could not be relied on, and had, in fact, good reason for discontent. The daily winter rains increased the difficulty of military movements and the danger of disease. Few of those who had served in the former campaign cared for a repetition of the experiences before Majorca. The presence of a brave and treacherous enemy rendered increasing vigilance indispensable and magnified the already arduous labors of a siege whose issue, under existing circumstances, could hardly be successful. The pay of the soldiers was in arrears, and the treasure chest, exhausted by unusual demands and plundered by dishonest custodians, was empty. The camp resounded with complaints. The murmurs of the courtiers were not suppressed even in the royal presence. When the King announced his intention to return for the purpose of seeking reinforcements, the remaining nobles declared that they would accompany him and renounce an undertaking which promised nothing but disaster. But relief was at hand from a quarter whence substantial encouragement had already been repeatedly obtained in wars with the Moorish infidel. The crusading spirit, generally nourished by incentives wholly foreign to the principles of religion, which, however, always afforded a convenient pretext for the most flagrant outrages against humanity, was by no means dormant in Europe. Another crusade was proclaimed by the Holy See. The passions of rapacious adventurers were inflamed with the hope of conquest, while the promise of unlimited pardons, indulgences, and booty attracted to the standard of the Cross a motley concourse of criminals, outlaws, and fanatics. France and England furnished almost all of these recruits, who numbered nearly seventy thousand. With such an army, which was constantly supplied with provisions by sea, the ultimate result of the campaign seemed no longer doubtful. To prove to the enemy, as well as to his own followers, his intention not to abandon his position until the city should be captured, Jaime made use of every artifice and expedient at his command. The Christian camp by degrees assumed the appearance and character of a permanent outpost. The quarters of the soldiery were constructed of substantial materials. The Queen, attended by the ladies of the court, arrived and took up her residence in the royal pavilion. Operations were pressed with increasing diligence. The Moors, impressed by these ominous evidences of the unalterable purpose of the besiegers, attempted to negotiate. All the territory between Teruel, Tortosa, and the Guadalquivir—a region of boundless fertility and defended by many strong fortresses, together with a yearly tribute of ten thousand pieces of gold—was offered as the price of peace. The King, conscious of his advantage, declined to listen to any terms of accommodation which did not include the capitulation of the city. The prize almost within his grasp was too valuable to be made the subject of barter. The traveller who to-day traverses the province of Valencia is amazed and enchanted with its productiveness and beauty. Yet what he sees is a comparatively insignificant portion of that which was once under the highest cultivation attainable by any system of agriculture. The density of the population required the greatest economy and labor in the division and use of both land and water. Hills that are now rocky and barren. were, under Moorish occupation, covered to the very summits with verdant terraces. Irrigation, governed by a code of laws which Spanish conceit and prejudice have never been able to repeal, was carried to almost absolute perfection. Every product flourished in a climate not inaptly compared with that of Paradise. The natural resources and accumulated wealth of such a principality were too alluring to permit its long continuance in the hands of those whose skill and patient efforts had founded and perpetuated its prosperity. At the sight of the voluptuous regions of Southern Spain, the Christian of the inhospitable North often forgot his country and the deeds of his heroic ancestors who had wrested with difficulty from the infidel a foothold in the Pyrenees; in the presence of the lovely houris of another faith he sometimes renounced his religion and his God. The Spanish crusades were not characterized by the absurd but sincere fanaticism which was the chief motive that inspired the expeditions to Palestine. No kings or courtiers abandoned home, country, friends, and family to obtain an object of doubtful expediency in the midst of an arid and scorching desert. No misguided multitude, roused by ecclesiastical eloquence, undertook the most interminable of journeys, endured the most horrible of privations for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, which omnipotent wisdom or Moslem valor had left since the reign of Omar, with a single slight intermission, in the hands of the infidel. The warriors who assumed the cross in the Peninsula were men of a widely different stamp from the followers of Peter the Hermit or the vassals of Philip Augustus and Richard Plantagenet. It is true that some of them had served in the Holy Land; but these were not fair representatives of the brave, the chivalrous, the pious crusaders. Their incentives had been mercenary, or they may have sought security for unpardonable crimes in the confused obscurity of a multitude of strangers. The most ignoble designs were concealed by the ample but well-worn mantle of religion. The wealth of the Moorish cities, the seductive influence of the climate when contrasted with the inclement and dreary atmosphere of Central and Northern Europe, the beauty and grace of the Mohammedan women were well known to every nation from Byzantium to Britain. It was no secret, either, that the population of the terrestrial paradise which bordered on the Mediterranean had long since lost the prestige and the strength which had distinguished the armies of the khalifate, and was not fitted to contend with fierce and powerful warriors reared amidst cold and privation, trained to martial exercises from infancy, and whose occupation and pastime alike were war. The accomplishment of the Reconquest would have been long and indefinitely deferred had it depended on the exertions of the Spaniards alone. Credit for the exploits which subdued and eventually consolidated under the Castilian sceptre the Hispano-Arab principalities is in no small degree due to the prowess of adventurers from every country in Christendom. The frenzied exhortations of monkish zealots were not required to excite the passions of the foreign crusader who volunteered in the armies of Jaime and Ferdinand. In his eyes the propagation of the Faith was merely an excuse for pillage. He was conspicuously negligent in the performance of his religious duties, extended experience and observation having thoroughly familiarized him with the inconsistencies and the failings of the clergy, and inspired him with a contempt for that order which he was usually at no pains to conceal. His attachment to the cause of Christ lasted just as long as it was profitable. Such considerations are not applicable, however, to the independent Christian population of Spain. With it the extinction of Moslem domination was a measure of political necessity, of national existence, of individual freedom. For five hundred years the struggle had continued. More than once the petty states which had sprung from the weak and insignificant community established in the Asturias in the face of Moorish triumph, expanded by ages of undaunted resolution and superhuman valor, and finally developed into a number of kingdoms whose mutual antagonisms were the greatest menace to their stability and power, had been on the point of submitting once more in humiliating subordination to Moslem authority, evidenced by the regular and humiliating rendition of homage. Generations of battle had engendered in the mind of the Spanish Christian a sentiment of ferocious hatred against the infidel enemy who had usurped the empire of his ancestors; who had defeated his most valiant sovereigns; to whose harems had been consigned the most beautiful maidens of his race, either as a degrading tribute or as the spoils of war; whose sacrilegious hands had seized the sacred treasures of his altars; who had deposited with exultant shouts within the mosque of his capital the bells whose solemn tones had so often called to their devotions the pilgrims assembled at the holy shrine of Santiago. The grosser passions of avarice and military ambition were, indeed, rarely absent from the motives which prompted the conduct of the mediæval Spaniard. Inherited prejudice, early education, the maxims of his religious guides, all had a tendency to intensify the detestation entertained by him against such as refused assent to the doctrines of his creed. The Castilian despised the knowledge and the intellectual accomplishments which made the Moor immeasurably his superior, but he often reluctantly confessed the bravery of his infidel adversary in the field. This antipathy and intolerance, while openly encouraged by the clergy for professional reasons, were in reality less marked among the ecclesiastics than elsewhere. As their order monopolized the meagre learning of the time, they were better qualified to appreciate the scientific acquirements which distinguished the polished enemies of their faith. As representatives of a system largely maintained by organized hypocrisy, they condemned in public what they often studied with wonder and delight in the luxurious solitude of the convent and the monastery. The prelates as well as the nobles did not disdain to imitate the vices of the Moslem, especially condemned by their religion, their canons, the precepts of their Founder, and the example of the chaste and abstemious Fathers of the Church. The writings of the heterodox Mussulmans were not unfamiliar to the more intelligent and inquisitive members of the Spanish hierarchy. The theological gloom of the episcopal palace was dispelled by the joyous presence of lovely infidels, whose caresses were more attractive to the clerical voluptuary than the monotonous ceremonies of the mass, and whose suggestive dances, relics of the licentious diversions of Pagan antiquity, were frequently performed for the delectation of saintly visitors in the most retired apartments of the ecclesiastical seraglio.