The relentless policy of the Spanish sovereigns, which, in addition to the resources of honorable warfare, adopted without reserve every crafty expedient to weaken the power of their adversaries, pursued its end with unflagging perseverance and indomitable energy. The paramount value of the old Roman maxim, “Divide et impera,” which had been the corner-stone of the great political fabric that dominated the ancient world, had long been fully recognized by the Christian sovereigns of the Peninsula. The animosity of the Moslem factions that so frequently, in the settlement of their sanguinary disputes, summoned from the Desert great hordes of Mauritanian barbarians, first afforded to the struggling Castilian monarchy an example whose teachings it was not slow to appreciate and to follow. From the earliest times, its surreptitious aid to or its open alliance with the weaker party had fomented and encouraged the feuds of the Spanish Arabs. It was this incessant interference which, countenancing the aspirations of bold and unprincipled adventurers and in direct contravention of the principles of national amity, kept every Moslem court in a state of continued apprehension and turmoil. Even the frequent seditions, the general disorganization consequent upon the encroachments of powerful nobles and the protracted minority of infant kings, while they somewhat diminished by no means abrogated this useful and effective method of conquering an enemy by the promotion of internecine strife. The pre-eminent valor of the Castilian chivalry can never be disputed. But, as important a factor as it was in the military affairs of Europe, the part it played in the Conquest of Granada was a subordinate one. The destruction of Moslem power was mainly effected by the machinations of political intrigue, and to this end the deplorable state of a society where an absolute want of moral principle was disclosed by the perpetration of the most atrocious crimes largely contributed. The popularity of the khalifs and the emirs was always superficial, and often only nominal. Their superior dignity both as sovereigns and legatees of the holy office of Mohammed exalted them far above the most eminent of their subjects. With the masses, whom they seldom condescended to notice, they could have nothing in common. Their empire, obtained by conquest, was ruled by despotism and preserved by force. The incalculable benefits conferred by their wise and enlightened administration were never appreciated by those who enjoyed them. The savage ferocity of the Bedouin, transmitted through countless generations, dominated every other impulse. It exercised its baleful influence in the gorgeous palace of the sovereign, in the busy haunts of commerce, in the hut of the stolid and irascible peasant, even in the temple where were publicly inculcated the obligations of forgiveness and peace. The prospect of boundless empire, the advantages of a lucrative trade, the acquisition of enormous wealth, the prosecution of philosophical studies, the remembrance of great achievements, the conscious pride of mental superiority, the omnipresent tokens of a magnificent civilization, could never erase from the Arab mind the traditions of hereditary prejudice or fuse into an harmonious whole the discordant elements of the Arab character.

There is nothing more pathetic in human annals than the destruction of a nation whose works have for ages contributed to the welfare and happiness of mankind, whose discoveries in every department of knowledge have called forth the applause of the learned and elicited the grateful acknowledgment of subsequent generations, and which, consumed by the unquenchable fire of internal discord, has squandered in civil war the talents and the resources which, properly applied, might have for centuries maintained its greatness and perpetuated its power. The fall of the Moslem empire in Europe is a striking example of the inexorable law of human destiny. Had the Moslems not succumbed to the encroachments of Castilian conquest, their eternal dissensions must have eventually invited the interference of some other aggressor. Commercial prosperity, which, while encouraging selfishness and luxury, degrades in the eyes of an effeminate and cowardly population the profession of arms, had sapped the vitality of the kingdom of Granada. Its bravest defenders were not natives of the soil, but mercenaries from Africa. Partisan frenzy which hesitated at no excesses had usurped the rights and supplanted the sentiments of patriotism. The most flagrant depravity permeated every class of society. The beauties of a terrestrial paradise were polluted by scenes which proclaimed the shocking degradation of mankind; by crimes which cannot be conceived without dismay; by vices which cannot be mentioned without shame. Thus infected with corruption, enfeebled by treason, its treasures dissipated by civil war, its blood lavishly shed in the suicidal strife of its factions, with one party in open alliance with the enemy of its race and its creed, no nation could long preserve its integrity or its existence.

In accordance with the concerted plan of the Spanish court, which contemplated the prosecution of hostilities interrupted only by the inclemency of the seasons, it was determined to again attempt the conquest of Loja. A force of fifty-two thousand men was considered necessary to carry this enterprise to a successful termination. The memory of former disaster suggested the expediency of the most ample and thorough preparation. It was decided to establish, in the form of a triangle, three different camps in the lines of circumvallation, each of which, strongly fortified and independent of the others, should be capable of resisting, if necessary, the entire power of the Moslem armies. The uneven character of the ground, rendered more difficult of access by the groves and houses with which it was covered, afforded such opportunities for ambush and surprise that the reduction of the city by the ordinary method of investment was considered impracticable. In addition to this disadvantage, its proximity to Granada and its consequent pre-eminent value as a bulwark of that city, rendered it certain that an attempt would be made to relieve it. The military organization was more complete than had been aimed at in any previous campaign. Gradually, and with a tact which concealed its object while perfecting its designs, the reins of discipline were tightened without giving offence to the naturally proud and insubordinate spirit of the Spanish soldiery. To convey the artillery and the supplies for the camp, two thousand carts and seventy thousand beasts of burden were assembled. The fame of the war and the reported wealth of the Moors had by this time become familiar to Europe, and numerous adventurers from other countries hastened to serve under the banners of Castile and Aragon, in a cause which, promoted by liberal indulgences and sanctified by the papal benediction, had been invested with the character of a pious crusade. It was no unusual occurrence for the chivalry of France to participate in the glory of Spanish campaigns; in the wars of Don Pedro el Cruel, the English knights had obtained an enviable reputation for valor and courtesy amidst a people whose national distinction was the possession of these attributes in an eminent degree; and now, inspired by the example of his countrymen, the Earl of Rivers, connected by blood with Elizabeth of York, Queen Consort of England, came to tender his services to the sovereigns of Spain. Besides his esquires, three hundred archers and battle-axemen followed in his train, sturdy yeomen armed with those weapons which, almost unknown in the wars of the Peninsula, were wielded by the strangers with matchless dexterity and strength.

The reported advance of the Spanish army on Loja was received by the feeble and unprincipled Boabdil with feelings of undisguised consternation. His prudence, which at times bordered upon abject cowardice, prompted him to abandon the city to its fate. While motives of policy, dictated by fears inspired by the threats of an offended suzerain, impelled him to adopt a pusillanimous inaction, the menacing clamors of the people, refusing to witness unmoved the sacrifice of a frontier fortress of such importance, admonished him that if he neglected to heed their remonstrances his crown might be endangered. Therefore, without further delay, he called together forty-five hundred well-armed troops, and entered Loja a short time before the arrival of the Christian vanguard. The approach of the latter was the signal for a sortie from the city. A bloody skirmish took place in one of the suburbs near the scene of the former Christian discomfiture, but the Moors were repulsed with loss; and Boabdil, who had greatly distinguished himself by his reckless bravery, received two painful wounds, which for the time disabled him.

As the investment proceeded, the incessant activity of the besieged made it necessary to adopt the greatest vigilance in protecting the camps. As soon as they had been thoroughly fortified the suburbs were stormed, an undertaking of much difficulty, and only accomplished after the loss of many lives. In these contests the brawny arm of Hamet-al-Zegri, who had come from Malaga, and, with his ferocious troopers, appeared in the thickest of the fight, was eminently conspicuous. The lombards, brought within easy range of the walls, soon opened a breach, through which the impetuous soldiery made their way. In the streets barricades impeded their advance; and the Moors, in the exertion of desperate but unavailing efforts, casting aside all other weapons, defended the passage with their daggers. For eight hours, without cessation, the battle went on. The ground, won foot by foot, was covered with corpses and slippery with blood. In no engagement of the war was an attack met with more determined obstinacy. The Earl of Rivers, who sustained with distinguished gallantry the reputation of the English name, was wounded in the mouth, and escaped death by a miracle. The path of the storming column was marked by the bodies of his archers who had fallen in the ranks, and who, on that fiercely contested field, surpassed in serene and inflexible courage even the glorious prowess of the famous chivalry of Spain. At length the garrison and the surviving inhabitants were driven into the citadel. Its area was so circumscribed that all available space was densely packed with a mass of struggling, shrieking humanity. The terrible lombards were drawn forward and trained upon the fortress. At the first discharge a tower where a large number of men and women had taken refuge was shattered and fell, burying hundreds in its ruins. In addition to the havoc made by the artillery, arrows, to which were attached flaming balls of tow steeped in naphtha, were shot into the castle, bearing conflagration in their wake, and consuming buildings into which, for greater security, the sick and wounded had been carried. The helpless citizens, thus exposed to inevitable death, now clamored for surrender; but even the desperate condition which confronted him failed to move the timorous and irresolute Boabdil, who was justly apprehensive of the wrath of the Spanish King. The situation soon became so critical, however, that the Moslem prince was compelled to make overtures for capitulation, which were received with greater indulgence than he had reason to expect; and, after an humble apology, he was permitted to retire in safety from the city he had defended with such heroic but fruitless valor. The people of Loja were granted the privilege of retaining their personal property on condition of abandoning their homes, and the roads leading to Granada and Malaga were soon crowded with weeping exiles, whose lamentations and distress affected even the iron hearts of the Spanish soldiery, hardened by repeated scenes of suffering and blood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The general aspect of the city was strikingly Oriental,—in the narrow and tortuous streets, often covered by awnings to exclude the heat or spanned by arches; in the sombre dwellings whose frowning walls were occasionally broken by narrow, projecting lattices; in the bazaars, each allotted to a special branch of commerce, where transactions involving the expenditure of great sums were concluded in an apartment scarcely exceeding the dimensions of a modern closet; in the mosques, with their glittering minarets; in the baths, with their ever-moving, ever-changing crowds; in the long strings of camels, each one tied to the croup of his leader, laden with every variety of merchandise; in the groups of richly apparelled ladies, escorted by female slaves and scowling eunuchs; in the confusing babel of a thousand tongues, was faithfully reproduced the picturesque life of Cairo, Bagdad, and Damascus. Moorish Malaga was the most cosmopolitan of cities. No restrictions were laid upon her trade, no vexatious or humiliating conditions attached to a residence within her walls. She numbered among her inhabitants natives of every clime. In her markets were exposed for sale the products of the most widely separated countries of the globe. In her port, after the occupation of Almeria, whose mercantile supremacy was never restored, was centred the foreign commerce of Mohammedan Spain. The merchants of Fez and Alexandria, of Bassora and Teheran, mingled in her thoroughfares and markets with representatives of every nation of Christian Europe. The intimate relations of the city with Genoa had more than once called forth the indignant protests of Castile to the Papal Court and the government of Italy. The silk manufacture of Granada, the beauty and excellence of whose stuffs modern skill has never been able to equal, owed its marvellous development to the maritime facilities afforded by Malaga. The weaving of this delicate product, furnished in incredible quantities by the peasantry of the kingdom, was one of the most important branches of industry pursued in the city. The great buildings where it was carried on rivalled in extent the famous establishments of Almeria, once the centre of the silk manufacture in Europe. The superior quality and harmony of colors that characterized the tissues and brocades that came from the hands of the Malagan artificers gave them a peculiar value, and enabled them to readily command extravagant prices in foreign markets.

Not for the fabrication of silks alone was Malaga famous. Her glass and paper, her utensils of iron and copper, the complex and elegant labors of her cabinet-makers and joiners, enjoyed a wide and deserved celebrity. Here also were made the gilded pottery and the stamped and enamelled leather, the knowledge of both which processes completely disappeared with the dominion of the Spanish Arabs.

In the number and profusion of its agricultural products Malaga was excelled by no city in the temperate zone. Its location, like that of Granada, afforded every degree of temperature and every variety of climate. But it possessed in this respect many advantages over the capital. Lying further to the south its air was milder, and its breezes were tempered by its proximity to the sea. The greater volume of moisture in the atmosphere was more favorable to the labors of the cultivator of the soil, and insured greater fertility. Frost was unknown, and the sugar-cane and other exotics grew with a luxuriance almost tropical. The adjacent hills were not then denuded of vegetation, but covered with groves of olives, mulberries, and chestnuts. The elaborate system of hydraulics perfected by the Moors conducted everywhere the sparkling waters of the mountain streams. There was no fruit or vegetable at that time known to horticulture that was not grown in the vicinity. Ibn-Beithar, the most distinguished botanist of the Middle Ages, and who may be said to have been largely instrumental in the foundation of that science, was a native of the city. His knowledge of plants, obtained by years of travel and study in foreign lands, had enriched the flora of his country with many additions useful for their culinary or medicinal properties. Modern medicine owes much to Ibn-Beithar, who was also an eminent physician, for his valuable contributions to the pharmacopœia.

During the Moslem domination the view of Malaga from any point was most enchanting. From Velez to Fuengirola, a distance of more than forty miles, the coast exhibited an unbroken series of fig plantations. Farther back, covering the slopes of the sierra, were groves of oranges and pomegranates. The vineyards were the most extensive, and the grapes the most luscious, of Moorish Spain. Their vintage was of superior excellence, and no small portion of it was consumed by those whose religion condemned the use of wine as an unpardonable sin. The belt of frowning gray walls which enclosed the city was relieved by the palm-trees which at frequent intervals overtopped them. The mountains in the rear were enveloped in a haze of mingled tints of crimson, orange, and violet. On the southern horizon, the sapphire blue of a sky without a cloud blended almost imperceptibly with the deep ultramarine of the sea. Viewed at a distance, the white buildings with their red roofs nestling in a wilderness of verdure whose foliage displayed every tint of green, the harbor dotted with hundreds of snowy sails, the numerous mosques with their elegant towers encrusted with glittering tile-work, the palaces of the noble and the wealthy decorated with all the caprices of Moorish architecture, and each surrounded by spacious and shaded grounds, the boundless profusion of limpid and refreshing waters, bearing fertility to every garden and comfort to every household, the interminable plantations of every fruit that contributes to the sustenance and enjoyment of man, all presented a landscape whose counterpart probably did not exist in the most favored regions of the habitable world. The walls, which enclosed an area almost circular in form, were strengthened by a hundred and twelve towers. Far above the city on an isolated promontory stood the fortress of the Alcazaba, and the Gibralfaro, or citadel. The former was constructed on the slope of the declivity, and, though of great extent and massive defences, was still but an outwork of the Gibralfaro. The position of the latter was such as to bid defiance to any military engines or ordnance at the command of the captains of the fifteenth century. The steep and rugged escarpment of the cliff below it made successful assault impossible. It could not be mined. The angle at which the artillery of a besieging army must be trained was such as to render its fire ineffective. No means could therefore be successfully employed to reduce its garrison except starvation. The water-supply was obtained from numerous cisterns and from a remarkable well a hundred and forty feet in depth. Subterranean passages hewn through the living rock, whose existence was known to but few and which now survive only in well-authenticated tradition, connected the Alcazaba and the Gibralfaro with the city. These two castles were enclosed by walls of unusual height and solidity. No stronghold in Europe during the Middle Ages was better adapted to resist an enemy than the Gibralfaro,—its difficulty of access, its intricate approaches, and the prodigious strength of its fortifications rendering it practically impregnable.

The inhabitants of Malaga, notwithstanding their generally cosmopolitan character, prided themselves upon the purity of their Arab blood. The literary history of the time abounds in accounts of their intelligence, their wit, and their attachment to science and letters. Their charity and benevolence have been celebrated by every Moslem writer who has had occasion to examine their characteristics or to describe their virtues. The desperate and protracted defence they offered the army of Ferdinand is convincing evidence of their bravery and patriotism. But, on the other hand, they were impetuous to a fault, irascible, unrelenting, and treacherous, ever ready to take offence, ever slow to forgive, jealous to an extreme bordering on insanity, and anxious to settle the most trivial dispute by an appeal to arms. Every vice familiar to a prosperous and voluptuous community was practised at Malaga. The drunkenness of its inhabitants was so common as to be proverbial, and the fact that its occurrence aroused so little comment is indicative of the popular indulgence with which a custom abhorrent to the rules of the Koran was regarded. The integrity of the merchants was not beyond suspicion; their reputation was better for shrewdness than for honesty; and the remarkable cheapness of many of the commodities retailed by peddlers is said to have been due to the fact that they were stolen from the markets.

The capture of this great city was a matter of vital importance to the Castilian cause. Not only was it of paramount necessity, but the difficulties attending the project rendered it by no means certain of a favorable termination. An enterprise of such magnitude had never before been attempted by Ferdinand. The great population, its warlike spirit, the facility with which supplies might be introduced by sea, the enormous dimensions of the walls, were all important factors to be considered before the siege was undertaken. On the other hand, there were many conditions favorable to Christian success. Malaga was now practically isolated. The exhausting effects of domestic strife, the apathy and moral cowardice of Boabdil, the recent defeat of his uncle, the depressing influence of the repeated forays which had swept the Vega like a tempest, rendered hopeless any expectation of relief from the territory still under Moorish control. The commercial pursuits of the citizens for the most part rendered them averse to violence, and ready to make almost any sacrifice for the sake of peace. It was certain, however, that a stubborn resistance would be offered. The commandant of the garrison and governor of the city was the intrepid Hamet-al-Zegri, whose resolution and prowess were well known to every soldier in the Spanish army. His troops were largely composed of Gomeres and other African mercenaries, some of them survivors of former campaigns, but the majority new recruits from Mauritania who had succeeded in avoiding the cruisers of the blockading fleet. With such antagonists it was preposterous to indulge the hope of an easy or a bloodless victory. The extraordinary strength of the fortifications, which had hitherto defied attack, imparted to the Moors a plausible but fallacious confidence in their impregnability.

The Spaniards having broken camp at Velez, which was only eighteen miles from Malaga, advanced to a point within two leagues of that city, and the King, desirous of testing the disposition of his adversary, sent an embassy to Hamet-al-Zegri offering advantageous terms of capitulation. The Moslem general haughtily replied that the city had been intrusted to him to defend and not to surrender, and dismissed the royal messengers with scant courtesy. The vessels in which the ordnance and camp equipage had been placed for greater facility of transportation moved in a line parallel with the march of the troops on shore, and, thus advancing with equal speed, both arrived simultaneously at their destination. The approach of the enemy was met with the usual energy of the Moorish commander. The garrison was called to arms; detachments were sent out to occupy the neighboring hills; the highway through which the Christians must pass was ambushed by a force sufficient to impede their progress; and every house beyond the defences, which, through its proximity to them, might furnish shelter, was set on fire. On the side of Velez a path so narrow that the soldiers were compelled to march in single file offered the sole approach to the city; and, in its most rugged part, commanded by eminences on either side, the Moors, with every advantage of numbers, position, and familiarity with the ground, resolutely barred the way. The Christians, ignorant of the difficulties of the march, had suffered themselves to be entangled among the rocks and fairly surrounded before they realized their peril. The contracted passage prevented those in the rear from aiding their comrades; the elevated position of the Moors, who, from the summit of the hills, were enabled to fight with little danger to themselves and had the Christians at their mercy, gave them such superiority that they threatened for a time to seriously check the advance of the entire army. In another locality, below the Gibralfaro, a battle was raging. An attempt to force the Moorish lines and turn the flank of the detachment engaged below was fiercely contested. In the words of the ancient chronicler, the Moslems “fought so desperately that they seemed to have a greater desire to kill the Christians than to save their own lives.” They neither offered nor accepted quarter. The fate of such as fell into their hands was instant death. For six hours, without intermission, the combatants, inflamed with mutual hatred, discarding their missile weapons and relying on their swords, contended with equal spirit and obstinacy,—the Moors with the consciousness that their lives and liberties were at stake; the Castilians, animated by fanatical zeal, and fighting in the presence of their King. At length, after heavy losses, both positions were stormed and taken. The enemy retired, the invading force pursued its way without further molestation, and a thorough blockade of the port was at once established. Malaga, surrounded by a strongly intrenched line of circumvallation, and effectually deprived of all hope of relief, now prepared to face the privations and calamities of a protracted siege.

The permanent character of the blockading camps and the perfect military organization of the Spaniards, marked features of the closing operations of the Reconquest, became more and more conspicuous with the advance of the Christian power. A deep ditch protected the intrenchments, which were fortified by parapets and towers. The soldiers were sheltered by huts. In the rear of the lines were large workshops, where skilled mechanics repaired the cannon and the various engines of war. A gunpowder factory, which gave employment to three hundred men, was erected, and its dangerous product was stored for security in adjacent caves. Hundreds of artisans cast the balls destined for the ponderous lombards. There were twelve of these great pieces, of fourteen-inch calibre, and more than twelve feet long, from which were thrown projectiles weighing five hundred pounds. Such was their clumsy construction that their muzzles could neither be elevated nor depressed, and they could be discharged only eight times a day. A ship-load of stone balls was transported from Algeziras, where they had been fired from the ordnance of Alfonso XI. during the siege of that city, one hundred and forty-three years before. The Spanish army, composed of nearly seventy thousand men, was supported by numerous vessels of every description, many of them armed with guns of medium calibre. When the batteries were mounted, a terrible bombardment of the city began by sea and land. The minarets, the domes, the houses, the towers, crumbled under the incessant cannonade. The city was ablaze in many places from fire-balls shot from the ballistas. The highways and pleasure-grounds were strewed with the dying and the dead. Many of the inhabitants were overwhelmed by the ruins of their fallen dwellings. The martial splendor of the spectacle excited the admiration of the chroniclers who witnessed it. They allude with unconcealed pride to the picturesque beauty of the landscape, soon to be marred by the cruel hand of war; to the formidable entrenchments guarded by many towers, to the fleet encircling the capacious harbor, to the innumerable tents covering the slopes of every hillside and following the winding lines of circumvallation, to the magnificent silken standards displaying the familiar arms of Castile and Leon, or emblazoned with the insignia of the proudest houses of the kingdom. Behind all this pomp was an unflinching energy, a confidence of ultimate success, which awed and discouraged the besieged. The calm deliberation, denoting an absolute tenacity of purpose, which characterized the first steps of the enemy augured ill for the people of Malaga, now cut off from the world.

But, in many respects, they might well be hopeful of a favorable result. Their means of resistance were the most formidable which the Christians had yet encountered. Their citadel had been pronounced by the most competent military engineers to be impregnable. Their provisions were abundant, the munitions of war, stored in their magazines and arsenals, inexhaustible. Their batteries were mounted with cannon but little inferior in weight and equal in range to those of the Spaniards; the artillerists who served them were among the most skilful marksmen of the age. The garrison of the city was numerous and well equipped; the governor, a veteran grown gray in a score of wars. Every circumstance contributed to animate the Moors to a desperate resistance. Should the invader be repelled, it would restore the lost prestige of the Moorish name. Defeat meant the infliction of every injury that could be devised by fanaticism and hatred. It was well known in Malaga that the agents of the Inquisition, while not yet officially recognized, were present with the army, and were treated with marked distinction by the Spanish court. The duplicity of Ferdinand, the blind bigotry of Isabella, although masked by a plausible appearance of candor and equity, had not escaped the observation of the keen-witted Moslems. A vague horror, intensified by past misfortune and by the apprehension of future calamity and associated with that awful tribunal whose atrocities were soon to fill the land with mourning, pervaded every Mussulman community. The possession of these advantages and the anticipation of future evils were sufficient to stimulate the Malagans to the highest exertion of courage and endurance. But unfortunately there existed among them a party largely composed of wealthy merchants to whom every patriotic consideration was subservient to the enjoyment of momentary quiet and safety. It was headed by Ali Dordux, a citizen of immense wealth, distinguished lineage, and unimpeachable integrity. Related to the royal house of Granada, he enjoyed, from this connection, from the consideration attaching to his great possessions, and from the munificence and charity with which he contributed to public enterprises and relieved private misfortune, the highest confidence and respect of his countrymen.

Through his mediation, an attempt had already been made to deliver the city to the Christians, and thereby escape the dreadful consequences of a siege. The commander of the Alcazaba, Ibn-Comixa, had been a party to this transaction, which, discountenanced in the beginning by Hamet-al-Zegri, had afterwards been conducted with secrecy. These proceedings having been communicated to Hamet by spies, he issued from the Gibralfaro with his guards, and put to death the brother of Ibn-Comixa and all others implicated with him in these treasonable designs wherever they could be apprehended. Henceforth absolute master of the city, the terror of his name and the fatal example of those who had rashly endeavored to defy his authority, while they might not entirely prevent, yet would probably render futile, any future negotiations looking to a clandestine and unauthorized capitulation.

The investment of the city had not been accomplished without a constant succession of skirmishes, in which, although the besiegers uniformly had the advantage, they not infrequently sustained serious loss. The Moorish artillerists kept up an incessant fire, and their aim was so accurate that portions of the Christian line were forced back for a distance of several hundred yards before it could be permanently established. Especially were their efforts directed against the royal pavilion, which occupied a conspicuous position, and the plunging balls of the lombards passing in dangerous proximity made it necessary to remove the quarters of the King. As the suburbs of Malaga covered an extensive area, had formerly sheltered a numerous population, and were protected by defences not inferior to those of the city itself, their speedy occupation became a matter of great moment to Ferdinand. While larger, they presented the same general characteristics as similar localities in the neighborhood of other cities of Moorish Spain. An uneven line of massive towers, walls, and barbicans crowned with battlements; a labyrinth of tortuous lanes shaded by hedges of myrtle and laurel; in one quarter the stately villas of the rich, in another the crowded hovels of squalid poverty; orchards of fragrant tropical fruits; pastures where hundreds of cattle might graze in security; mysterious passages, obscured by overhanging vegetation, through which a squadron could burst unseen and unexpected upon an unwary outpost,—such were the features of the environs of Malaga. As much injury had already been suffered from sallying parties which issued from the depths of the dark and silent groves, it was determined that this dangerous ground should be cleared and occupied without delay. A tower of unusual dimensions defending the salient angle of the largest of these enclosures, and which was seen to be the key of the position, was designated as the point of attack. The command of the Count of Cifuentes was selected for this perilous duty. The Castilians rushing forward applied their scaling-ladders, but the enemy, fully prepared, met them with a destructive fire, and, by means of bundles of burning flax steeped in pitch and naphtha, destroyed the ladders and many soldiers who had ventured to ascend them. Through successive arrivals of reinforcements on both sides the engagement began to assume the character of a battle, whose result for a time promised to be indecisive; but after a day and a night of desperate fighting the Christians prevailed, and the Moors, dislodged from the tower, took up a position within the walls. Their cannon in turn now played upon the tower, the upper portion of which was soon destroyed, and, having succeeded in mining the foundations, it was blown up, carrying to death several hundred Spaniards, whose valor in the face of imminent peril had so recently effected its capture. This dearly purchased victory was followed by the occupation of the larger suburb, but not until a considerable force of infantry had been decoyed by Moorish cunning into a maze of crooked lanes, where, bewildered by the surroundings and encompassed by superior numbers, they were mercilessly slaughtered. In the ground still retained by the Moslems the trees were cut down, palisades strengthened by ditches were erected, and thus doubly entrenched the attacks of the subtle and ferocious enemy kept the camp of the besiegers in a condition of continual excitement and alarm. The determined resistance with which the slow advance of the Christians was encountered, causing every foot of territory won to be drenched with blood, the dread of the pestilence, which had already appeared in dangerous proximity to the camp, and the rumor, persistently circulated, that the Queen was urging the abandonment of the siege, began to produce great discontent throughout the Spanish ranks. Aware of this feeling and prompt to take advantage of it, the Moors redoubled their efforts. The guards and patrols were increased. Skirmishes became more frequent and bloody. Boats armed with light pieces of artillery were sent out at night to harass the vessels of the blockading fleet. The garrison was organized into companies, to which was assigned in turn the performance of regular duties of patrol, attack, relief; and discipline was enforced among the usually insubordinate Moslems with an impartiality and a rigor heretofore unknown. All communication with the enemy was forbidden by proclamation, and the very mention of surrender, even among the citizens, incurred the penalty of death. The Moors relied, however, not so much upon their training and resolution as upon the evils which, at all times and especially in that age, were liable to hamper the tedious and laborious operations of a besieging army. The rainy season was approaching, when the mountain streams, swollen to the dimensions of torrents, swept away everything in their course, and the sudden tempests rendered the harbor, always insecure, almost untenable for shipping. The exposure of the camp was certain to induce disease and might invite a visitation of the plague, while the physical disadvantages incident to the situation would probably be magnified by the fears and the discontent of a large body of men subjected to daily inconvenience and condemned to inglorious inaction. A reign of terror had been inaugurated in Malaga by the savage measures adopted by Hamet-al-Zegri, who had executed without examination or warning several prominent citizens whose former conduct had rendered their loyalty suspicious, and, as a result of this severity, to all outward appearances, the inhabitants were at last heartily united in the public defence. An atmosphere of distrust and apprehension, however, enveloped the community; no man dared to publicly address his friend; the denunciation of a prominent personage to the authorities was followed by his immediate execution; and the merchants, whose wealth, influence, and pacific inclinations made them obnoxious to the ferocious soldiery, exposed on the one side to the violence of the garrison, menaced on the other by the prospect of enslavement and of financial and domestic ruin, were driven by their forebodings into the apathy of despair. In order to counteract the feeling of confidence with which the false rumor of the Queen’s disapproval of the siege inspired the enemy, a request was now made urging her to repair to the camp.

The arrival of Isabella was marked by all the pomp of a royal reception, and her presence at the post of danger brought to the front many cavaliers not liable to military service, but actuated by the chivalrous spirit so prominent in the Castilian, and who, in this instance, combined the hope of military distinction with that ardent devotion to the sex always regarded as one of the noblest and most meritorious attributes of knighthood. The occasion seemed an advantageous one for the renewal of negotiations, and fresh overtures were made to the citizens of Malaga, but no reply was vouchsafed to the messengers, and they returned without having obtained an audience with the authorities. Foiled in this attempt and encouraged by the counsels of the Queen, Ferdinand pushed the approaches with increased energy. The entrenchments were moved into the suburbs, and often within a stone’s throw of the walls. An attack was made upon the castle, which resulted in the repulse and wounding of the Marquis of Cadiz. Vessels were sent to Barcelona, Valencia, Lisbon, and Palermo for powder. Hundreds of mechanics were employed in the construction of military engines,—ladders like masts, raised on sliding platforms, mangonels, battering-rams, movable towers, and mantelets. The wood required for this purpose was obtained from the orchards and groves of the vicinity. Mines were secretly opened at four different points, and in each of these hundreds of men labored constantly day and night. The appearance of the Queen, who was accompanied by the dignitaries and ladies of the court, infused fresh courage into the faltering ranks of the disheartened soldiery. The intrepid defence of the Moors had exceeded the anticipation of the Spaniards, who, encouraged by the remembrance of former triumphs, expected a rapid if sharply contested conquest. Instead of this, after three weeks, each day of which was marked by a series of sanguinary combats, no substantial progress had been made. The trifling advantages gained had been purchased at the expense of many lives; the success of the day was certain to be counteracted by the repulse of the morrow; when a wall was demolished, a new line was formed, composed of ditches and palisades, and defended by troops whose tireless efforts and apparently exhaustless resources seemed to bid defiance to every artifice of military experience and engineering skill. The discouraging prospect of the campaign, and the gradual spread of the pestilence in the neighborhood, caused numerous desertions and much consequent demoralization. Some soldiers returned to their homes; others, renouncing the further prosecution of an enterprise which they considered impracticable, sought the insidious friendship and uncertain rewards of the Moslems of Malaga. To insure their welcome, they sedulously magnified the distress of the comrades whom they had thus dishonorably abandoned,—alleging the shortness of rations, the want of powder, the number of deserters, the universal discontent which they declared even the exhortations and promises of the King had failed to appease. The effect of these representations soon became evident. The Moslems, encouraged to continue steadfast, maintained the contest with renewed obstinacy, and the attention of the Christians was occupied in guarding their lines, liable at any moment of the day or night to be broken by an assault from some remote and unexpected quarter. A cloud of smoke hung over the city and the camp, lighted at frequent intervals by the flashes of the cannon whose dull roar was occasionally followed by the crash of falling buildings, the cheers of the artillerists, and the cries of the wounded. The inflexible resolution and inspiring example of Hamet-al-Zegri, whose heroism was so tarnished by remorseless cruelty, sustained the defence of Malaga amidst the most frightful privation and suffering. The difficulty of supporting a great multitude of non-combatants under such circumstances increased day by day. All the provisions that could be found were unceremoniously seized for the benefit of the garrison. Whenever it was ascertained that some unfortunate citizen had secreted food for the maintenance of his family, all of the inmates of the house were at once put to the sword. The Jews, the especial objects of official tyranny, were inhumanly and maliciously deprived of the necessities of life, and the poorest and most helpless of this persecuted race perished by hundreds of starvation. In the extremity of famine the most loathsome and innutritious substances were eagerly devoured. Not an animal of any kind was left alive in the city; and many persons reared in abundance and luxury were forced to blunt the pangs of hunger with the leather of saddles, the stalks of cabbage, and the leaves of trees long since stripped of their fruit and blossoms. Rendered desperate by distress and by the enforced military duty for which they had been impressed by the governor, who took a grim satisfaction in assigning to the most perilous stations those who had least experience in the operations of war, a number of merchants, including Ali Dordux, again opened communications with the enemy. Their designs miscarried, for their messenger while returning from the Spanish camp was intercepted by a patrol, and, in trying to escape, fell pierced with a cross-bow bolt.

The extremity of their countrymen who so resolutely held their ground against the united resources of Castile and Aragon excited the compassion and applause of every patriotic Moslem in the kingdom. There were many in the capital who would have gladly volunteered to go to their assistance, but the known hostility of Boabdil repressed the public exhibition of the general feeling. With the sanction of Al-Zagal a band of picked warriors set out from Guadix to endeavor to cut their way into Malaga. Information of the expedition was communicated to Boabdil by spies, and an ambush was planned for the party by a squadron of Moorish cavalry from Granada. The unfortunate adventurers, unsuspicious of treachery, were surprised on the march, and less than half of them succeeded in escaping to Guadix. For this infamous service, so thoroughly in keeping with his character, Boabdil received the congratulations of the politic Ferdinand, who viewed with inward complacency the effects of the fatal policy of his enemies who were unconsciously fighting his battles, and were destined eventually to realize the futility of their efforts to maintain even a tributary existence in the face of adversaries prepared to renounce every consideration of honor and justice, to violate every covenant, to repudiate every suggestion of humanity and pity, in the final accomplishment of an object, pursued with unshaken tenacity, through the vicissitudes, the triumphs, and the reverses of twenty-five generations.