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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