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I 



HISTORf I 




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HISTORY 



PHILIP THE SECOND. 



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HISTORY OF THE REIGN 



PHILIP THE SECOND 



KING OF SPAIJSI 



By WILLIAM, H.. PRESCOTT 



EDITED BY JOHN FOSTER KIRK 



yOkUMB- JU. ' 



J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY. 



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HISTORf I 

Copyrighl, lajs, 
Bt WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT. 

Copyrighl, i8j4, 
B» J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 

Copyrighl, iBM, 
Rt WILLIAM G. PRESCOTT. 



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CONTENTS OF VOL. Ill 



CHAPTER I. 



The Moors of Spain i 

Conquest of Spain by the Arabs i 

Hostllily between the Two Races » 

The CouQlry recOTCred by the Spaniards .... 4 

Efiect of the Struggle on the National Character ... 5 

Religious Intolerance of the Spaniards .... 6 

Attempts to convert the Moslems 7 

Policy of Ximenes 7 

Suppression of the Mahometan Worship .... 8 

Outward Conformity 10 Christianity 9 

Moots abandon their National Habits 10 

Their Condition under Philip the Second .... II 

Their Industry and Commerce la 

Treatment by the Government 14 

Ordinance of 1563 17 

Stringent Measures called for by the Qergy ... 19 

Prepared by the Government aa 

Severity of the Enactments 33 

Approval of them by Philip 36 

Proclamation at Granada 37 

Indignation of the Moiiscoes ....... 97 



Appeal to the Throne 99 

Rejection of their Prayers 30 

(iii) 



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CHAPTER II. 

Rbbsllion op the Moriscoes 33 

The Edict enforced 33 

Plans for Resistance by the Moriscoes 34 

Their Descent on Granada 37 

Failure of Ihe Attempt 39 

General Insurrection 40 

Election of a King 41 

Character of Aben-Hiuneya 43 

His Coronation 43 

His Preparations for Defence 44 

The Christian Population 45 

Unsuspicious of (heir Danger 46 

Attacked by the Moors — Panic 47 

General Massacre 48 

Horrible Cruellies 49 

Fate of the Women and Children 5a 

Fierceness of Aben-Farai S3 

Deposed from his Command 54 



CHAPTER III. 

Rebellion of the moriscohs SS 

Consternation in the Capital 55 

Mutual Feais of the two Races 56 

Garrison of the Alhambra strengthened .... 57 

Troops mastered by Mondejar 57 

Civic Militia— Feudal Levies 58 

Warlike Ecclesiastics 60 

March of Ihe Army 61 

Pass of Tablate 6a 

Bridge crossed by a Friar 64 

The Army follows 64 

The Moriscoes vfithdraw . 65 

Entrance into th» Alpujarras 66 

Night Encampment -at Lanjarcn . - 67 



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CONTENTS. V 

Relief of Orgiba 6S 

Mondejar pursues his March 69 

Gloom of the Mounltun Scenery 69 

Defile of Al&jaraji 70 

Sudden Attack 71 

Bravery of the Andalusian Knighls 71 

Precipitate Retreat of the Moriscoes 73 

Capture of Bublon 73 

Humanity of Mondejar 74 

Sufferings of the Army 75 

Capture of Jubiles 76 

Prisoners protected by Mondejar 77 

Massacred by the Soldiers 78 

Chtlslian Women sent to Granada 79 

Welcomed by the lohabitantj So 



CHAPTER IV. 
Rebellion of the Moriscoes . 

Mondejar's Policy 

Aben-Huroeyasi Patema . . . . 

Offers to surrender 

Plight to the Sierra Nevada .... 
Disposition of the Moorish Prisoners 
Allack oD Las Guajaras .... 

Evacuated by the Garrison 
Massacre ordered by Mondejar 
Cruelty of the Cotmt of Tendilla 
Attempt to capture Aben-Humeya 

His Escape 

Heroism of Aben-Aboo .... 

The Marqius of Los Velei ' . . . 
His Campaign in the Alpujarras ■ 
Cruellies committed by the Troops . 
Celebration of a religious F6te 
Licentiousness of the Soldiery . 
Contrast betviieen Mondejar and Los Velez . 
Accusations against the former . 
Deci^oD arrived at in Madrid 



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Effect on the Anny . 
Moorish Prtsoneis in Granada 
Rutnom circulated <n the Capital 
Night Allack on the Prisoners 
Fearful Struggle and Massacre . 
Apathy of the Government . 
Renewal of the Insurrection 



CHAPTER V. 



Rebeluon of the Moribcoes . . . 
Don John of Austria . . , 

Birth and Early History .... 
Placed under the Care of Quixada , 
Secrecy in regard to his Origin 
The. young Geronimo at Yuste . 
Testamentary IMspositions of tlie Emperor . 
The Boy presented to the Regent 

Curious Scene 

Meeting appointed with the King 

Philip acknowledges bis Brother . . . 

Assigns him an Establishment . . 

Royal Triumvirate at Alcali .... 

Chivalrous Character of Don Joba . 

His Adventurous Dispoddon 

He is intrusted with the Command of a Fleet 

His Cruise In Ibe MdUtenaaean . 

He is selected for the Command in Granada 

Restrictions on his Authority .... 

Hb Reception at Granada .... 

Answers to Petitionee 

Discussions in the Council of War . 
New Levies summoned ..... 
Increased Power of Aben-Humeya . 
Forays into the Christian Territory 
Movements of Los Velei .... 
Extension of the Rebellion .... 
Successful Expedition of Reqaesens . ( 



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CONTENTS. 



vn 



Moriscoes lay S\ege to Seron , 146 

Surrender and MasMLcre of the Garrison .... 147 

Decree for cemoving Che Moriscoes from Granada . 148 

Their Constemalion and Grief 149 

Expulsion from the City 150 

Farewell la their Ancient Home 159 

Distribution through the Country 153 

Ridnous Effects an Granada 153 

CbaiBcter of tbe Tcuisaclion 154 



CHAPTER VI. 



Rebellion op thb Moriscoes 156 

State of the Troops under Ijca Velei 
Encounter with Aben-Humeya 
Flight of the Morlsco Prince 
Desertions from the Spanish Camp 
Mondejar recalled to Court 

His Character 

Exterminating FoUcy of (he Govemmeal 
Sensual Tyranny of Aben-Humeya 
Treachery towards Diego. Alguadl 
Plan of Revenge formed by Alguadl 
Conspiracy against Aben-Humeya 
His Assassination .... 
He is succeeded by Aben-Aboo 
Energy of the new Chief 
.Repulse at Orgiba . 
The Place evacuated by the Garrison 
Continual Forays 
Conflicts in the Vtga 
Don John's Desire for Action 
Philip yields to his Entreaties 
Preparation) for the Campaign 
Surprise of Guejar 
Mortilicatioa of Don Jolin 
Mendoia the Historian . 



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CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER VII. 

EiEBBLLION OF THE MORISCOES 

Philip's InstructioDs to his Brother .... 

Don John takes the Field 

Discontent of Los Velei . . . , . 

His Meeting with Don John 

He retires from the War 

Investment of Galera 

Descriptiot) of the Place 

MoDitioiis and Gairison 

Establishment of Batteries 

The Siege opened 

First Assault 

Spaniards repulsed 

Mines opened in the Rock aoo 

Second Assault aoi 

Explosion of the Mine 903 

Troops rush to the Attack 304 

Struggle at the [tavelin 004 

Bravery of the Moiisco Women 205 

111 Success of I^dilla 306 

Failure of the Attack . . _ 307 

Insubordination of the Troops 307 

Severe Loss of the Spaniards aoS 

Bloody DeterminatioD of Don John ..... S09 

Prudent Advice of Philip 309 

Condition of the Besieged air 

Preparations for a last Attack 31s 

Cannonade and Explosions 313 

Third Assault 314 

Irresistible Fury of the Spaniards aij 

Stn^gle in the Streets and Houses 316 

Desperation of the Inhabitants ' 317 

Inhutnanity of the Conqueror 318 

Wholesale Massacte 319 

The Town demolished aao 

Tidings coniniunicated to Philip 331 

Reputation gained by Don John 333 



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CHAPTER VIII. 

Rebellion op the Moriscoes 993 

Seroa reconnoilred 333 

Sudden Attack by the Moriscoes 934 

Army thrown into Confusion 335 

Indignation of Don John 926 

Death o( Quixada 929 

His Cbaracler 339 

DoSa M^dalena de UUoa 331 

Rapid Successes of Don John 331 ■ 

Negollatlons opened wilh El Habaqui .... 333 

Merciless Pursuit of the Rebels 333 

Guerilla Warfare 334 

Conferences at Fondon 335 

Aben-Aboo consents to treat 336 

Arrangement concluded 336 

Submission tendered by El Habaqui 337 

Dissatisfaction with the Treaty 939 

Vacillation of Aben-Aboo 340 

El Habaqui engages to arrest him 341 

Fate of El Habaqui 943 

Mission of PaJacios 343 

His Interview with Aben-Aboo 344 

Spirited Declaration of that Chief 344 

Stem Resolve of the Government 346 

War of Extermination . . ■ 346 

Expedition of the Duke of Arcos 348 

March across the Plain of Calaltiz 349 

Engagement with the Motlscoes 350 

The Rebellion crushed 350 

Edict of Expulsion 351 

Removal of the Moriscoes 53 

Don John's Impatience to resign 954 

His final Dispositions 355 

Hiding-Plaee of Aben-Aboo 356 

Rol formed for his Capture 257 

His Interriew with El Senix 35B 



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His Murder 359 

His Body brought to Granada. 959 

His Head placed in a Cage 36a 

Remaiks on bis Career ....... 361 

Wasled CoDdidon of tbe Country 363 

The scattered Moriscoes 064 

Cruelly treated by the Government aS$ 

Their Industry and Cheerfulness 366 

Increase of their Numbers 067 

They preserve their National Feeling .... a6S 

Mutual Hatred of the Two Races 369 

EipolsioD of the Moriscoes from Spain , . . . 369 

Works of Marmol and Clrcourt 070 



CHAPTER IX. 

War with the Turks . . . . 

Sultan Selim the Second .... 
Determines on the Conquest of Cyprus 
Spirit of Fius the Fifth .... 

His Appeals to PhiUp 

King's Entrance into Seville 
Determines to join the League 

Capture of Nicola 

Vacillating Conduct of Venice 

Meeting of Deputies at Rome , 

Treaty of Confederation .... 

Ratified and proclaimed .... 

Turkish Fleet in the Adriatic 

Papal Legate at Madrid .... 

Concessions to the Crown .... 

Fleets of Venice and Rome 

Preparations in Spain 

Enthusiasm of the Nation .... 

Don John's Departure 

His Reception at Naples .... 
His noble Appearance ..... 
Accomplishments and Popularity 



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CONTENTS. 



Presentatloii of ihe Consecrated Standard 

Arrival at Messina 

Grand Naval Spectacle .... 
Strength and Condition of the Fleets . 
Discretion of the Generalis^mo 
Communications liom the Pope 
Departure from Messina .... 



CHAPTER X. 

War with the Turks 998 

Arrival at Corfu 393 

Council of War 999 

Resolution to give Battle 300 

Arbitrary Conduct of Veniero 301 

Passage across the Sea of Ionia ..... 30a 

Fall of Famagosta 30a 

The Enemy in Sight 303 

Preparations for Combat ....... 304 

r^nal Insfruclions of Don John 305 

Approach of the Turkish Fleet 306 

Its Form and Disposition 307 

Change in the Order ot Battle 309 

Last Preparation of the Christians 

Bailie ot Lepanto 

Left Wing of the Allies turned 

Right Wing, under Doria, broken .... 

Don John and All Pasha engage 

Superior Fire of the Spaniards 

Bird's-eye View of the Scene 

Venetians victorious on the Left 

Continued Struggle in the Centre 

Turkish Admiral twarded 

Death of Ali Pasha 

Victory of the Christians 

nighl of Uluch Ali 

Chase and Escape 

Allies take Shelter in Petala 



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CHAPTER XI. 

Wak with the Turks 324 

Losses of the ComlHtants 324 

Turkish Armada annihilated 395 

Roll of SlHt^hler and Fame 396 

Exploits of Famese ■ . . , 336 

Noble Spirit of Cervantes 337 

Sons of AH Pasha Prisoners 338 

Generously treated by Don John 339 

His Conduct towards Veniero 330 

Operationi suspended 33I 

Triumphant Return to Meswna 33a 

Celebrations in Honor of the Victory .... 333 

Tidings despatched lo Spain - , ^ , . , . 335 

Philip's Reception of them 33S 

Acknowledgmeals to his Brother 337 

Don John's Conduct criticised 338 

Real Fruits of the Victory 340 

Delay in resuming Operations -,..,. 343 

Death of Wus the Fifth 34a 

Philip's Dbtrusi 343 

Permits his Brother to srf 344 

Turks decline lo accept Battle 345 

Anniversary of Lepanlo 346 

Allies disband their Forces 347 

Perfidy of Venice 347 

The League dissolved 34B 

Tunis taken by Don John 349 

He provides for its Security 330 

Returns to Naples 35a 

Mis Mode of Life there 35a 

His Schemes of Dominion 353 

Tunis retaken by the Moslems 354 

Don John's Mission to Genoa 355 

He prepares a fresh Armament 356 

His EKsappointmeni, and Return to Madrid .... 357 



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CONTENTS. 



BOOK VI. 

CHAPTER I. 

Domestic Affaiks op Spain 358 

Internal Administration 358 

Revolutions under Isabella and Charles V 359 

Absolute Power of (he Crown 360 

Contrast between Charles and Philip 361 

The latter wholly a Spaniard 361 

The Royal Councils 363 

Principal Advisers of the Crown 363 

Cbaracler of Ruy Gomei de Silva ..... 364 

Fipieroa, Count of Feria 368 

Cardinal Espinosa 369 

Two Parties in the Council 373 

Balance held by Hiilip 373 

His Manner of transacting Business 374 

His Assiduity 375 

His Mode of dividing the Day 376 

His Love of Solitude 377 

Eitenl of his Information 378 

Partial Confidence in his Ministers ... . 379 

His Frugality 380 

His Magnificent Establish me at 3S1 

His Fatal Habit of Procrastination 383 

Remonstrances of his Almoner 384 

Habits of the great Nobles 3B5 

Manneis of the Court 3B6 

Degeneracy of the Nobles 387 

Splendor of their Households 388 

Loss of Political Power 389 

Depressed Condition of the Commons 390 

Petitions of ihe Cortes 390 

Their Remonstrance against Arbitrary Government . 391 

Their Regard for Ihe National Interests .... 391 

Erroneous Notions respecting Commerce .... 393 
Philip.— Vol. Ill,— B 



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»v CONTENTS. 

Sumptuary Laws ........ 394 

EncQuragement of Bull-Fights 39S 

Various Subjects of Legislation 396 

Schools and UoiTeisitiei . 397 

Royal Pr^malics 39B 

Hiilip'B Replies to the Cortes 399 

Freedom of TKscusiion 400 

Standing Army 401 

Guards of Castile ..... ... 401 



CHAPTER II. 



in the Crown 



Domestic Affairs of Spain 
Pbilip the Champion of the Faith 
Endowments of the Church . 
Alienadons in Mortmain . 
Disputed Prerogatives . 
Appointments 1 
The Clergy de] 

TheEscorial 

Motives for its Erection .... 

Convent founded 

Royal Humility 

Building commenced .... 

Philip-s Interest in it 

His Architectural Taste .... 
His Ovenight of the Work 
He governs the World from the Escorial 
The Edifice endangered by Fire 
Materials used in its Construction . 

Artists employed 

Philip's Fondness for Art 
Completion of the Elscorial 

The Architects 

Character of the Structure 

lis Whimsical Design .... 

Its Magnitude 

Interior Decorations .... 



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CONTENTS. XV 

Ravages it has undergone ..,..,. 41S 

Its present Condition 438 

Anne of Austria > . • 439 

Her Reception in Spain ....... "430 

Her Marriage with Pbilip 433 

Her Residence at the Escoiial ...... 433 

Her Cliaracterand Hahits ....... 434 

Her Death 435 



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LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



VOLUME III. 

Philip II. prbsiding over an Auto-Da-f*. FrenlisfUct. 
The Monasterv, Yustb, whekb Charles V. retired 

Don John of Austria iia 

Presbntation of Don John of Austria to Charles 

v., AT VUSTE k8 

Tower of the Moor, Fauagosta. Cyprus . 303 

Naples 35" 

The Escorial 378 

Anne of Austria 403 

Rook in which Philip II. lived and died, Escorial 433 



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HISTORY 

or 

PHILIP THE SECOND. 



BOOK V. 



CHAPTER I. 

THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 



Coaqaat of Spain by the Arabs. — Slow Recovery by the Spaniard!. 
—Efforts to convert the Moslenw.^Their Humes in the Alpujairai. 
— Thdr Treatment by the Government.— The Minister EifHnon. 
— Edict acainst the Moriscoe*.— Their inefTeciual Rcmonxinuice. 

1566, 1567. 

It was in the beginning of the eighth century, in 
the year 711, that the Arabs, filled with the spirit of 
conquest which had been breathed into them by their 
warlike apostle, after traversing the southern shores of 
the Mediterranean, reached the borders of those straits 
that separate Africa from Europe. Here they paused 
for a moment, before carrying their banners into a 
strange and unknown quarter of the globe. It was 
but for a moment, however, when, with accumulated 
n strength, they descended on the sunny fields of Aiida< 
Biilip.— Vol. III.— a I 



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■•,i|--'->*i ■ ■ i t^4 'VQCt/lS OF SPAIN. 

Insia, met the whole Gothic array on the banks of the 
Guadalete, and, after that fatal battle in which King 
Roderick fell with the flower of his nobility, spread 
themselves, like an army of locusts, over every part of 
the Peninsula. Tliree years sufficed for the conquest 
of the country, — except that small comer in the north, 
where a remnant of the Goths contrived to maintain a 
savage independence, and where the rudeness of the 
soil held out to the Saracens no temptation to follow 
them, 

It was much the same story that was repeated, more 
than three centuries later, by the Norman conquerors 
in England. The battle of Hastings was to that king- 
dom what the battle of the Guadalete was to Spain ; 
though the Norman baions, as they rode over the 
prostrate land, dictated terms to the vanquished of a 
sterner character than those granted by the Saracens. 

But whatever resemblance there may be in the general 
outlines of the two conquests, there is none in the 
results that followed. In England the Norman and 
the Saxon, sprung from a common stock, could not 
permanently be kept asunder by the barrier which at 
first was naturally interposed between the conqueror 
and the conquered ; and in less, probably, than three 
centuries after the invasion, the two nations had impei- 
ceptibly melted into one, so that the Englishman of 
that day might trace the current that flowed through 
his veins to both a Norman and a Saxon origin. 

■ It was far otherwise in Spain, where difl'erence of 
race, of religion, of national tradition, of moral and 
phj'sical organization, placed a gulf between the victors 
and the vanquished too wide to be overleaped. It ii 



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CONQUEST OF SFATK. j 

true, indeed, that very many of the natives, accepting 
the liberal terms offered by the Saracens, preferred 
remaining in the genial clime of the south to sharing 
the rude independence of their brethren in Asturias, 
and that, in the course of time, intermarriages, to some 
extent, took place between them and their Moslem 
conquerors; to what extent cannot now be known. 
The intercouise was certainly far greater than that 
between our New-England ancestors and the Indian 
race which they found in possession of the soil, — that 
ill-fated race, which seems to have shrunk from the 
touch of civilization, and to have passed away before 
it like the leaves of the forest before the breath of 
winter. The union was probably not so intimate as 
that which existed between the old Spaniards and the 
semi-civilized tribes that occupied the plateau of Mex- 
ico, whose descendants at this day are to be there seen 
filling the highest places, both social and political, 
and whose especial boast it is to have sprung from the 
countrymen of Montezuma. 

The very anxiety shown by the modem Spaniard to 
prove that only the sangre azul- — "blue blood" — flows 
through his veins, u neon laminated by any Moorish or 
Jewish taint, may be thought to afford some evidence 
of the intimacy which once existed between his fore- 
fathers and the tribes of Eastern origin. However 
this may be, it is certain that no length of time ever 
served, in the eye of the Spaniard, to give the Moslem 
invader a title to the soil; and after the lapse of nearly 
eight centuries — as long a period as that which has 
passed since the Norman conquest — the Arabs were still 
looked upon as intruders whom it was the sacred duty 



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4 THE MOORS OF SPAIff, 

of the Spaniards to extermioate or to expel from the 
land. 

This, then, was their mission. And it is interesting 
to see how faithfully they fulfilled it ; and during the ' 
long period of the Middle Ages, when other nations 
were occupied with base feudal quarrels or border war- 
fare, it is curious to observe the Spaniard intent on the 
one great object of reclaiming his country from the 
possession of the infidel, it was a work of time ; and 
his progress, at first almost imperceptible, was to be 
measured by centuries. By the end of the ninth cen- 
tury it had reached as far as the Ebro and the Douro. 
By the middle of the eleventh the victorious banner of 
the Cid had penetrated to the Tagus. The fortunes of 
Christian Spain trembled in the balance on the great 
day of Navas de Tolosa, which gave a permanent 
ascendency to the Castilian arms ; and by the middle 
of the thirteenth century the campaigns of James the 
First of Aragon, and of St. Ferdinand of Castile, 
stripping the Moslems of the other southern provinces, 
had reduced them to the petty kingdom of Granada. 
Vet on this narrow spot they still continued to maintain 
a national existence, and to bid defiance for more than 
two centuries longer to all the efforts of the Christians. 
The final triumph of the latter was reserved for the 
glorious reign of Ferdinand and Isabella. It was on 
the second of January, 1492, that, after a war which 
rivalled that of Troy in its duration and surpassed it in 
the romantic character of its incidents, the august pair 
made their solemn entry into Granada; while the large 
silver cross which had served as their b ann er through 
the war, sparkling in the sunbeams on the red towers 



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RECOVERY BY THE SPANIARDS. g 

ot the Alhambra, announced to the Christian world 
that the last rood of territory in the Peninsula had 
passed away forever from the Moslem. 

The peculiar nature of the wax in which the Spaniard 
for eight centuries had thus been engaged exercised an 
important influence on the national character. Gener- 
ation after generation had passed their lives in one long, 
uninterrupted crusade. It had something of the same 
effect on the character of the nation that the wars for 
the recovery of Palestine had on the Crusaders of the 
Middle Ages. Every man teamed to regard himself as 
in an especial manner the soldier of Heaven, — forever 
fighting the great battle of the Faith. With a mind 
exalted by this sublime conviction, what wonder that 
he should have been ever ready to discern the imme- 
diate interposition of Heaven in his behalf? — that he 
should have seen again and again the patron saint of 
his country, charging on his milk-white steed at the 
head of his celestial chivalry, and restoring the waver- 
ing fortunes of the light? In this exalted state of 
feeling, institutions that assiuned elsewhere only a 
political or military aspect wore here the garb of 
religion. Thus the orders of chivalry, of which there 
were several in the Peninsula, were founded on the 
same principles as those of Palestine, where the mem- 
bers were pledged to perpetual war against the infidel. 

As a consequence of these wars with the Moslems, 
the patriotic principle became identified with the 
religious. In the enemies of his country the Spaniard 
beheld also the enemies of God; and feelings of 
national hostility were still further embittered by those 
of religious hatred. In the palmy days of the Arabian 



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6 THE MOORS OF SPAZK. 

empire, these feelings, it is true, were tempercil by 
those of respect for an enemy who in the various forms 
of civilization surpassed not merely the Spaniards, but 
every nation in Christendom. Nor was this respect 
wholly abated under the princes who afterwards ruled 
with imperial sway over Granada, and who displayed 
in their little courts such a union of the courtesies of 
Christian chivalry with the magnificence of the East as 
shed a ray of glory on the declining days of the Moslem 
empire in the Peninsula. 

But as the Arabs, shorn of their ancient opulence 
and power, descended in the scale, the Spaniards 
became more arrogant. The feelings of aversion with 
which they had hitherto regarded their enemies were 
now mingled with those of contempt. The latent fire 
of intolerance xvas fanned into a blaze by the breath of 
the fanatical cleigy, who naturally possessed unbounded 
influence in a country where religious considerations 
entered so largely into the motives of action as they 
did in Spain. To crown the whole, the date of the ^l 
of Granada coincided with that of the establishment 
of the Inquisition, — as if the hideous monster hod 
waited the time when an inexhaustible supply of vic- 
tims might be afforded for its insatiable maw. 

By the terms of the treaty of capitulation, the people 
of Granada were allowed to remain in possession of 
their religion and to exercise its rites; and it was es- 
pecially stipulated that no inducements or menaces 
should be held out to effect their conversion to Christi- 
anity,' For a few years the conquerors respected these 



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EFFORTS TO CONVERT THEM. 7 

provisions. Under the good Talav«ra, the fast arch- 
bishop of Granada, no attempt was made to convert the 
Moslems except by the legitimate means of preaching to 
the people and of expounding to them the truths of reve- 
lation. Under such a course of instruction the work of 
proselytisra, though steadily, went on too slowly to satisfy 
the impatience of some of the clergy. Among others, 
that extraordinary man. Cardinal Ximenes, archbishop 
of Toledo, was eager to try his own hand in the labor of 
conversion. Having received the royal assent, he set 
about the affair with characteristic ardor, and with as 
little scruple as to the means to be employed as the most 
zealous propagandist could have desired. When reason- 
ing and expostulation failed, he did not hesitate to resort 
to bribes, and, if need were, to force. Under these com- 
bined influences the work of prosely tism went on apace. 
Thousands were added daily to the Christian fold ; and 
the more orthodox Mussulmans trembled at the prospect 
of a general defection of their countrymen. Exasper- 
ated by the unscrupulous measures of the prelate, and the 
gross violation they involved of the treaty, they broke 
out into an insurrection, which soon extended along 
the mountain -ranges in the neighborhood of Granada. 
Ferdinand and Isabella, alarmed at the consequences, 
were filled with indignation at the high-handed conduct 
of Ximenes. But he replied that the state of things was 
precisely that which was most to be desired. By placing 
themselves in an attitude of rebellion, the Moors had re- 

ruon de algunos unores se quisiere toraar Christiani, lampocD serf 
receblda. hasnt ser liiteiT<%ada." See the original trearr. u given 
im nttnio br Marmol. Ri:bel)on de los Moriscos (Madrid, 1797), 
torn. 1. {]f>. 63-98. 



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S THE MOORS OF SPAIN, 

noiinced all the advantages secured by the treaty, and 
had, moreover, incurred the penalties of death and con- 
fiscation of property 1 It would be an act of grace in the 
mvereigns to overlook their offence and grant an am- 
nesty for the past, on condition that every Moor should 
at once receive baptism or leave the country.* This pre- 
cious piece of casuistry, hardly surpassed by any thing in 
ecclesiastical annals, found favor in the eyes of the sove- 
reigns, who, after the insurrection had been quelled, lost 
no time in proposing the terms suggested by their min- 
ister as the only ternis of reconciliation open to the 
Moors. And as but few of that unhappy people were 
prepared to renounce their country and their worldly 
prospects for the saic of their faith, the result was that 
in a very short space of time, with but comparatively 
few exceptions, every Moslem in the dominions of 
Castile consented to abjure his own faith and receive 
that of his enemies.* 

A similar coturse of proceeding was attended with 
similar results in Valencia and other dominions of the 
crown of Aragon, in the earlier part of Charles the 
Fifth's reign ; and before that young monarch had 
been ten years upon the throne the whole Moorish 
population — Meriseoes, as they were henceforth to be 
called — ^were brought within the pale of Christianity, or, 
to speak more correctly, within that of the Inquisition.' 

• " Y que pues hablan lido retxldei. i por ello nienciaa pena d* 
muene y perdimeDto de bieoes, el perdon que lei concedicM fnese 
eondicioiul, con que at tomasen Cfaristianos. 6 deusen la tieiTa." 
Maimol. Rebelion de los Moiiscos, torn. L p. 133. 

^ Tbe reader curious in the matter will find a full account of It In 
the History of Feidinand and Isatwlla, pan ii. chapters 6, 7, 

* AdTertimieDlos de Don Geronimo Corella sobre la Convenlnii de 
kn Morixcoi del Rcyno de Valencia, MS. 



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EFFORTS TO CONVERT THEM. 9 

Sttch conversions, it may well be believed, Iiad taken 
too little root in the heart to bear fruit. It was not 
long before the agents of the Holy Office detected, 
under the parade of outward conformity, as rank a 
growth of infidelity as had existed before the conquesL 
The blame might in part, indeed, be fairly imputed to 
the lukewarmness of the Christian laborers employed 
in the work of conversion. To render this more efiec- 
tual, the government had caused churches to be built 
in the principal towns and villages opcupied by the 
Moriscoes, and sent missionaries among them to wean 
them from their errors and unfold the great truths of 
revelation. But an act of divine grace could alone 
work an instantaneous change in the convictions of a 
nation. The difficulties of the preachers were in- 
creased by their imperfect acquaintance with the lan- 
guage of their bearers ; and they had still further to 
overcome the feelings of jealousy and aversion with 
which the Spaniard was naturally regarded by the Mus- 
sulman. Discouraged by these obstacles, the missionary 
became indifferent to the results. Instead of appealing 
to the understanding or touching the heart of his hearer, 
he was willing to accept his conformity to outward cere- 
mony as the evidence of his conversion. Even in his 
own performance of the sacred rites the ecclesiastic 
showed a careless indifference, that proved his heart 
was little in the work; and he scattered the purifying 
.waters of baptism in so heedless a way over the multi- 
tude that it was not uncommon for a Morisco to assert 
that none of the consecrated drops had fallen upon 
Uim.' 
t "Sin (Tatar de instniir dcoda una en parliculu ni de examinai 



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to THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

The representations of the clergy at length drew the 
attention of the government. It was decided that the 
best mode of effecting the conversion of tlie Moslems 
was by breaking up those associations which connected 
them with the past, — ^by compelling them, in short, to 
renounce their ancient usages, their national dress, and 
even their language. An extraordinary edict to that 
effect, designed for Granada, was accordingly published 
by Charles in the summer of 1526 ; and all who did 
not conform to it were to be arraigned before the 
Inquisition. The law was at once met, as might have 
been expected, by remonstrances from the men of most 
consideration among the Moriscoes, who, to give effi- 
cacy to their petition, promised the round sum of 
eighty thousand gold ducats to the emperor in case 
their prayers should be granted. Charles, who in hia 
early days did not always allow considerations of re- 
ligion to supersede those of a worldly policy, lent a 
favorable ear to the petitioners; and the monstrous 
edict, notwithstanding some efforts to the contrary, 
was never suffered to go into operation during his 
reign.* 

los ni laber su volunlad los baptiiarun i manadas y de modo que 
aI{^nos de ellos, segun es fama. pusleroD pleito que no les avia lo- 
cado el agua que en comun les hecbavan." Advenimienlos de Co- 
rella, MS. 

< Marmol. Rebelion de los Moriscos, lom. i. pp. 1 33-155 .—Bleda. 
Coronka de los Moros de Espatta (Valencia, 1618), p. 656. — Adverti- 
mientos de CorelU, MS. — Feireras, Hist, g^irale d'Espagne, tom. 
h. pp. 65. 68. — Vanderhatnmen, Don Juan de Austria, fol, 55. — The 
last writer says Ihal, besides the largess to the emperor, the Moriscod 
were canny enough lo secure the good will of his ministers by a 
liberal supply of doubloons lo tbem also ; " Sirvieron al Emperadar 
con ocheota mil ducados. Aprovech&les esto, y buena soma de do- 



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HOMES m THE ALPUJARRAS. n 

Such was the stale of things on the accession of 
Philip the Second, Granada, Malaga, and the other 
principal cities of the south were filled with a mingled 
population of Spaniards and Moriscoes, the tatter of 
whom, — including many persons of wealth and con- 
Hderation, — under the influence of a more intimate 
contact with the Christians, gave evidence, from time 
to time, of conversion to the faith of their conquerors. 
But by far the larger part of the Moorish population 
was scattered over the mountain -range of the Alpujar 
ras, southeast of Granada, and among the bold sierras 
that stretch along the southern shores of Spain. Here, 
amidst those frosty peaks, rising to the height of near 
twelve thousand feet above the level of the sea, and 
readily descried, from their great elevation, by the dis- 
tant voyager on the Mediterranean, was many a green, 
sequestered valley, on which the Moorish peasant had 
exhausted that elaborate culture which in the palmy 
days of his nation was unrivalled in any part of Europe.' 

bloneiqae dieroni los prlvodog paia que Carlos luspendieise la uo. 
cndon desle ocuerdo." 

r Caldcion, ia his "Amar despues de la Muerte," has *hed the 
•[dnidDis of his muse over the green and lunny spots that glitter like 
Mnerolds amidst the craggy wilds of the Alpujuras ; 




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II THE MOORS OP SPAIN. 

His patient toil had constructed terraces from tlie 
rocky soil, and, planting them with vines, had clothed 
the bald sides of the sierra with a delicious verdure. 
With the like industry he had contrived a net-work of 
canals along the valleys and lower levels, which, fed 
by the streams from the mountains, nourished the land 
with perpetual moisture. The different elevations 
afforded so many different latitudes for agricultural 
production ; and the fig, the pomegranate, and the 
orange grew almost side by side with the hemp of the 
north and the grain of more temperate climates. The 
lower slopes of the sierra afforded extensive pastures 
for flocks of merino sheep ; ' and the mulberry-tree was 
raised in great abundance for the manufacture of silk, 
which formed an important article of export from the 
kingdom of Granada. 

Thus gathered in their little hamlets among the 
mountains, the people of the Alpujarras maintained the 
same sort of rugged independence which belonged to 
the ancient Goth when he had taken shelter from the 
Saracen invader in the fastnesses of Asturias. Here 
the Moriscoes, formed into communities which pre- 
served their national associations, still cherished the 
traditions of their fathers, and perpetuated those usages 
and domestic institutions that kept alive the memory 
of ancient days. It was from the Alpujarras that, in 
former times, the kings of Granada had drawn the 
brave soldiery who enabled them for so many years to 

■ Sefior At Gayangos, correcting a blunder of Casiri on the subject, 
tells us tha.1 the Arabic name of Ihe Alpujarras was Al-huhtrU, ng- 
niiying "mountaju abounding In pastures." See that treasure of 
Oriental learning, the Hisloiy of the Mohammedan Dyoailiea ia 
Spain (London, 1843), vol. ii. p. 515. 



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HOiJBS IN THE ALPUJARRAS. 13 

bid defiance to their enemies. The trade of war was 
now at an end. But the hardy life of the mountaineer 
gave robustness to his frame, and saved him from the 
effeminacy and sloth which corrupted the inhabitants 
of the capital. Secluded among his native bills, he 
cherished those sentiments of independence which ill 
suited a conquered race ; and, in default of a country 
which he could call his own, he had that strong attach- 
ment to the soil which is akin to patriotism, and which 
is most powerful among the inhabitants of a mountain- 
region. 

The products of the husbandman furnished the sta- 
ples of a gainful commerce with the nations on the 
Mediterranean, and especially with the kindred people 
on the Barbary shores. The treaty of Granada secured 
certain commercial advantages to the Moors beyond 
what were enjoyed by the Spaniards." This, it may well 
be believed, was looked upon with no friendly eye by 
the latter, who had some ground, moreover, for dis- 
trusting the policy of an intercourse between the Mos- 
lems of Spain and those of Africa, bound together as 
they were by so many ties, — above all, by a common 
hatred of the Christians. With the feelings of polit- 
ical distrust were mingled those of cupidity and envy, 

• Such WW the exemptioii from certain duties paid by the Chrii- 
tUiu in their trade with the Baibaiy coast, — a ungular and not verr 
politic provision ; " Que si los Moros que enlnu^a debaxo de estaj 
capituladoDes y conciettos. quisieren ir con lus mercaderias i tratar 
y conlratar en Betberfa, se les dari licenda paia poderlo bacer librc 
meale, y lo mesma en todos los li^arei de Casdlla y de la Andalu- 
da, sin pa{^ ponaigos, ni los otros derechos que los ChrisllBnoi 
■coatumbtan pagar." Marmol, Rebelion de I03 Moriscos, torn. i. p, 
93- 

Philip.— Vol. III. a 



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14 THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

as the Spaniard saw the fairest provinces of the south 
still in the hands of the accursed race of Ishmael, 
while he was condemned to earn a scanty subsistence 
from the comparatively ungenial soil of the north. 

In this state of things, with the two races not merely 
dissimilar, but essentially hostile to one another, it will 
readily be understood how difficult it must have been 
to devise any system of legislation by which they could 
be brought to act in harmony as members of the same 
political body. That the endeavors of the Spanish 
government were not crowned with success would 
hardly surprise us, even had its measures been more 
uniformly wise and considerate. 

The government caused the Alpujarras to be divided 
into districts and placed under the control of magis- 
trates, who, with their families, resided in the places 
assigned as the seats of their jurisdiction. There seem 
to have been few other Christians who dwelt among 
the Moorish settlements in the sierra, except, indeed, 
the priests who had charge of the spiritual concerns of 
the natives. As the conversion of these latter was the 
leading object of the government, they caused churches 
to be erected in all the towns and hamlets, and the 
curates were instructed to use every effort to enlighten 
the minds of their flocks, and to see thU they were 
punctual in attendance on the rites and ceremonies of 
the Church. But it was soon too evident that attention 
to forms and ceremonies was the only approach made 
to the conversion of the heathen, and that below this 
icy crust of conformity the waters of infidelity lay as 
dark and deep as ever. The result, no doubt, was to 
be partly charged on the clergy themselves, many of 



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TREATMENT BY THE GOVEJisVMEMT:. 15 

whom grew languid in the execution of a task which 
seemed to them to be hopeless." And what task, in 
truth, could be more hopeless than that of persuading a 
whole nation at once to renounce their long-established 
convictions, to abjure the faith of their fathers, asso- 
ciated in their minds with many a glorious recollection, 
and to embrace the faith of the very men whom they re- 
garded with unmeasured hatred? It would be an act of 
humiliation not to be expected even in aconquered race. 

In accomplishing a work so much to be desired, the 
Spaniards, if they cannot be acquitted of the charge of 
persecution, must be allowed not to have urged perse- 
cution to any thing like the extent which they had 
done in the case of the Protestant reformers. Whether 
from policy or from some natural regard to the help- 
lessness of these benighted heathen; the bloodhounds 
of the Inquisition were not as yet allowed to run down 
their game at will ; and, if they did terrify the natives 
by displaying their formidable fangs, the time had not 
yet come when they were to slip ihe leash and spring 
upon their miserable victims. It is true there were 
some exceptions to this more discreet policy. The 
£Ioly Office had its agents abroad, who kept watch 
upon the Moriscoes; and occasionally the more flagrant 

■° Such is the opinion expressed by the author of Ihe "Advtrti- 
muBtei," whose remarks — having paiticulai- reference lo Valencia — 

lems, rarely found in a Spaniard of the siiteenih centuiy. ■' De 
donde," he says, " colije claraniente que el no sanar estos enfermoi 
hasta agora no se puede imputar & ser incurable la enfemiedad, sina 
k averse errado la cura, y larabien se vee que hasta oy no estan basta- 



Seflor tiene ordenados para la ci 



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i6 THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

ofTcnders were delivered up to its tender mercies.' 
But a more frequent source of annoyance arose from 
the teasing ordinances from time to time issued by the 
government, wliich could have answered no other pur- 
pose than to irritate the temper and sharpen the ani- 
mosity of the Moriscoes. If the government had titled 
in the important work of conversion, it was the more 
incumbent on it, by every show of confidence and 
kindness, to conciliate the good will of the conquered 
people, and enable them to live in hannony with their 
conquerors, as members of the same community. Such 
was not the policy of Philip, any more than il had 
been that of his predecessors. 

During the earlier years of his reign the king's at- 
tention was too closely occupied with foreign affairs to 
leave him much leisure for those of the Moriscoes. It 
was certain, however, that they would not long escape 
the notice of a prince who regarded uniformity of faith 
as the comer-stone of his government. The first im- 
portant act of legislation bearing on these people was 
in 1560, when the Cortes of Castile presented a re- 
monstrance to the throne against the use of negro 
slaves by the Moriscoes, who were sure to instruct 
them in their Mahometan tenets and thus to multiply 
the number of infidels in the land," A royal prag- 

" " Fonandoles con Injurias jr peius pecuniarias ; justldondo 
i alguDos de ellos." AdverTimientos de Corella. MS. — Mendoia, 
■peaking of a somewhat later period, just before ibe outbreaJc, briefly 
■lludes 10 tlie &ct that the Inquisllioa was (ben beginning to worry 
the Moriscoes more than usual ; " Porque ta Inquisidon les comenid 
i, apietu nias de io ordinario." Guerra de Granada (Valeticia, 1776), 

" Marmot, Rebelion de los Moriscos, torn. 1. p. 135. 



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TREATMENT BY THE GOVERNMENT. 17 

matie was accordingly passed, interdicting the use of 
African slaves by the Moslems of Granada. The pro- 
hibition caused the greatest annoyance ; for the wealthier 
classes were in the habit of employing these slaves for 
domestic purposes, while in the country they were ex- 
tensively used for agricultural labor. 

In 1563 another ordinance was published, reviving 
a law which had fallen into disuse, and which pro- 
hibited the Moriscoes from having any arms in their 
possession but such as were duly licensed by the c^ 
tain-general and were stamped with his escutcheon." 
The office of cap tain -general of Granada was filled at 
this time by Don Ifiigo Lopez de Mendoza, count of 
Teudilla, who soon after, on his father's death, suc- 
ceeded to the title of marquis of Mondejar. The im- 
portant post which he held had been hereditary in his 
family ever since the conquest of Granada. The pres- 
ent nobleman was a worthy scion of the illustrious 
house from which he sprang." His manners were 
blunt, and not such as win' popularity; but he was a 
man of integrity, with a nice sense of honor and a 
humane heart, — the last of not too common occurrence 
in the iron days of chivalry. Though bred a soldier, 
he was inclined to peace. His life had been passed 

■s Marmol, Rebelion de los Moriicai, torn. II. p. 338. — Ordenuuai 
de Giuiada. fol. 375, ap. Circoujt, HiM. des Aiabea d'Esp>gne (Pant, 
1846), torn. ii. p. 367. — The penalty far violating the above ordinance 
wai ux years' hard labor in the galleys. That for counterfeiting the 
(tamp of the Mendoia arms was death. Va vicHi/ 

H The name of Mendoia. which occapied for so many generatioiii 
■ prominent place in arms, in potitics. and in letters, mokes Its first 
appearance in Spanish hisloiy as far back as the beginning of the 
Ihineenth century. — Mariana, Historia de EqtaBa, tom. i. p. 676. 



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l8 THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

much among the Moriscoes, so that he perfectly un- 
derstood their humors; and, as he was a person of 
prudence and moderation, it is not improbable, had 
affairs been left to his direction, that the country would 
have escaped many of those troubles which afterwards 
befell it. 

It was singular, considering the character of Men- 
doza, that he should have recommended so ill-advised 
a measure as that relating to the arms of the Moriscoes. 
The ordinance excited a general indignation in Gra- 
nada. The people were offended by the distrust which 
such a law implied of their loyalty. They felt it an 
indignity to be obliged to sue for permission to do 
what they considered it was theirs of right to do. 
Those of higher condition disdained to wear weapons 
displaying the heraldic bearings of the Mendozas in- 
stead of their own. But the greater number, without 
regard to the edict, provided themselves secretly with 
arms, which, as it reached the ears of the authorities, 
led to frequent prosecutions. Thus a fruitful source of 
irritation was opened, and many, to escape punish- 
ment, fled to the mountains, and there too often 
joined the brigands who haunted the passes of the 
Alpujarras and bade defiance to the feeble police of 
the Spaniards." 

These impolitic edicts, as they were irritating to the 
Moriscoes, were but preludes to an ordinance of so 
astounding a character as to throw the whole country 

■i M. de Circourt, in hi) interesting volumes, has given a minule 
aocoonl — much too rninate for these pages — of the first developments 
of the insiurectionarr spirit of the Moriscoes, in which he shows > 
<rerf caiefiil study of the subject — Hist, des Atabes d'Espagne, torn. 



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TREATMENT BY THE GOVERNMENT. 



'9 



Into a state of revolution. The apostasy of the Moris- 
coes — or, to speak, more correctly, the constancy with 
which they adhered to the faith of their fathers — gave 
great scandal to the old Christians — especially to the 
dergy, and above all to its head, Don Pedro Guerrero, 
archbishop of Granada, This prelate seems to have 
been a man of an uneasy, meddlesome spirit, and pos- 
sessed of a full share of the bigotry of his time. While 
in Rome, shortly before this period, he had made such 
a representation to Pope Pius the Fourth as drew from 
that pontiff a remonstrance, addressed to the Spanish 
government, on the spiritual condition of the Moris- 
coes. Soon after, in the year 1567, a memorial was 
presented to the government by Guerrero and the 
clergy of his diocese, in which, after insisting on the 
manifold backslidings of the "new Christians," as the 
Moriscoes were termed, they loudly called for some 
efficacious measures to arrest the evil. These people, 
they said, whatever show of conformity they might 
make to the requisitions of the Church, were infidels 
at heart. When their children were baptized, they 
were careful, on returning home, to wash away the 
traces of baptism, and, after circumcising them, to give 
them Moorish names. In like manner, when their mar- 
riages had been solemnized with Christian rites, they 
were sure to confirm them afterwards by their own 
ceremonies, accompanied with the national songs and 
dances. They continued to observe Friday as a holy 
day; and, what was of graver moment, they were 
known to kidnap the children of the Christians and 
sell them to their brethren on the coast of Barbary, 
where they were circumcised, and nurtured in t)tc 



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to THE MOORS OF SFAI.Y. 

Mahometan religion. This last accusation, howevei 
improbable, found credit with the Spaniards, and 
tharpened the feelings of jealousy and hatred with 
which they regarded tlie unhappy race of Ishmael." 

The memorial of the clergy received prompt atten- 
tion from the government, at whose suggestion, very 
possibly, it had been prepared. A commission was al 
once api^ointed to examine into the matter ; and theit 
repjort was laid before a junta consisting of both eccle- 
siastics and laymen, and embracing names of th( 
highest consideration for talent and learning in tht 
kingdom. Among its members we find the duke of 
Alva, who had not yet set out on his ominous missioT 
to the Netherlands. At its head was Diego de Espi 
nosa, at that time the favorite minister of Philip, or ai 
least the one who had the largest share in the direction 
of affairs. He was a man after the king's own heart, 
and, from the humble station of colegiai mayor of the 
college of Cuen^a in Salamanca, had been advanced 
by successive steps to the high post of president of the 
Council of Castile and of the Council of the Indies. 
He was now also bishop of Siguenza, one of the riches) 
sees in the kingdom. He held an important office in 
the Inquisition, and was soon to succeed Vald^ in the 
unenviable post of grand inquisitor. To conclude the 
catalogue of his honors, no long time was to elapse 
before, at his master's suggestion, he was to receive 
from Rome a cardinal's hat. The deference shown by 
Philip to his minister, increased as it was by this new 

■* Fermas, Hist. d'Espofne, torn. Ix. p. 524. — Marmol, Rebellon 
de lus Moriscos, loni, i. p, 142. — Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Aus- 
tria, fol. 55. 



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THE MINISTER ESPINOSA. n 

accession of spiritual dignity, far exceeded what he had 
ever shown to any other of his subjects. 

Espinosa was at this time in the morning, or rather 
the meridian, of his power. His qualifications for 
business would have been extraordinary even in a lay- 
man. He was patient of toil, cheerfully doing the 
work of others as well as his own. This was so far 
fortunate that it helped to give him that control in the 
direction of affairs which was coveted by his aspiring 
nature. He had a dignified and commanding presence, 
with but few traces of that humility which would have 
been graceful in one who had risen so high by his 
master's favor as much as by his own deserts. His 
haughty bearing gave offence to the old nobility of 
Castile, who scornfully looked from the minister's 
present elevation to the humble level from which he 
bad risen. It was regarded with less displeasure, it is 
said, by the king, who was not unwilling to see the 
pride of the ancient aristocracy rebuked by one whom 
he had himself raised from the dust,'' Their mortifica- 
tion, however, was to be appeased ere long by the fall 
of the favorite, — an event as signal and unexpected by 
the world, and as tragical to the subject of it, as the 
fall of Wolsey. 

The man who was qualified for the place of grand 

T Such was the judgment of Ihe acute Venetian who. as one of the 
train trf the minister Tiepolo, obtained a near view of what was pass- 
ing in Che court of Philip the Second : " Levato di bassissimo stata 
dal re. e posto in tanta grandeita in pochi anni. per essei huomo da 
bene, libero et schiello, el perchi S. M. vaol tener bas^ li grand! di 
Spagna, conosoendo 1' altierissima natura loro." Gachard, Relations 
des Ambassadeure Viniticns st;i Charlea-Quint et PhUippe 11 (Bni- 
xeOet, iSss), p. 175. 



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i3 THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

inquisitor was not likely to feel much sympathy for the 
race of unbelievers. It was unfortunate for the Moris- 
coes that their destinies should be placed in the hands 
of such a minister as Espinosa, After due delibera- 
tion, the junta came to the decision that the only 
remedy for the present evil was to lay the axe to the 
root of it, — to cut off all those associations which con- 
nected the Moriscoes with their earlier history, and 
which were so many obstacles in the way of their pres* 
ent conversion. It was recommended that they should 
be interdicted from employing the Arabic either in 
speaking or writing, for which they were to use only 
the Castilian. They were not even to be allowed to 
retain their family names, but were to exchange them 
for Sp>anisb ones. All written instruments and legal 
documents, of whatever kind, were declared to be void 
and of no effect unless in the Castilian. As time must 
be allowed for a whole people to change its language, 
three years were assigned as the period at the end of 
which this provision should take effect. 

They were to be required to exchange their national 
dress for that of the Spaniards; and, as the Oriental 
costume was highly ornamented, and often very ex- 
pensive, they were to be allowed to wear their present 
clothes one year longer if of silk, and two years if of 
cotton, the latter being the usual apparel of the poorer 
classes. The women, moreover, both old and young, 
were to be required, from the passage of the law, to go 
abroad with their faces uncovered, — a scandalous thing 
among Mahometans. 

Their weddings were to be conducted in public, after 
the Christian forms ; and the doors of their houses were 



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EDICT AGAINST THE MOSISCOES. j- 

to be left open during the day of the ceremony, that 
any one might enter and see that they did not have 
recourse to unhallowed rites. They were further to be 
interdicted from the national songs and dances with 
which they were wont to celebrate their domestic fes- 
tivities. Finally, as rumors — most absurd ones — had 
got abroad that the warm baths which the natives were 
in the habit of using in their houses were perverted to 
licentious indulgences, they were to be required to de- 
stroy the vessels in which they bathed, and to us<" 
.nothing of the kind thereafter. 

These several provisions were to be enforced by 
penalties of the sternest kind. For the first offence 
the convicted party was to be punished with imprison- 
ment for a month, with banishment from the country 
for two years, and with a fine varying from six hundred 
to ten thousand maravedis. For a second offence the 
penalties were to be doubled ; and for a third, the 
culprit, in addition to former penalties, was to be ban- 
ished for life. The ordinance was closely modelled on 
that of Charles the Fifth, which, as we have seen, he 
was too politic to carry into execution.'' 

Such were the principal provisions of a law which, 
for cruelty and absurdity, has scarcely a parallel in his- 
tory. For what could be more absurd than the attempt 
by an act of legislation to work such a change in the 
long-established habits of a nation, — to efface those 

■• This remarkable ordinance may be found in the Nueva Reeopi- 
lacion {ed. 1640), lib. viii. tit. 3, leyes 13-1B. — The most severe penal- 
ties were those directed against the heinous offence of indulging in 
warm baths. For a second repetition of (his, (he culprit tiss sen- 
tenced to sii jrears' labor in the gallejs and the conliscatioii of half 



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t4 THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

recollections of the past, to which men ever cling most 
closely under the pressure of misfortune, — to blot out 
by 3 single stroke of the pen, as it were, not only the 
creed but the nationality of a people, — to convert the 
Moslem at once both into a Christian and into a Cas- 
tilian ? It would be difficult to imagine any greater 
outrage offered to a people than the provision compel- 
ling women to lay aside their veils, — associated as these 
were in every Eastern mind with the obligations of 
modesty ; or that in regard to opening the doors of the 
houses and exposing those within to the insolent gaze 
of every passer ; or that in relation to the baths, — so 
indispensable to cleanliness and comfort, especially in 
the warm climate of the south. 

But the masterpiece of absurdity, undoubtedly, is 
the stipulation in regard to the Arabic language ; as 
if by any human art a whole population, in the space 
of three years, could be made to substitute a foreign 
tongue for its own, and that, too, under circumstances 
of peculiar difficulty, partly arising from the total want 
of affinity between the Semitic and the European lan- 
guages, and partly from the insulated position of the 
Moriscoes, who in the cities had separate quarters 
assigned to them, in the same manner as the Jews, 
which cut them off from intimate intercourse with the 
Christians. We may well doubt, from the character 
of this provision, whether the government had so much 
at heart the conversion of the Moslems as the desire to 
entangle them in such violations of the law as should 
afford a plausible pretext for driving them from the 
country altogether. One is strengthened in this view 
of the subject by the significant reply of Otadin, pro- 



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EDICT AGAINST THE MORISCQES. 15 

fes90r of theology at Alcali, who, when consulted by 
Philip on the expediency of the ordinance, gave hia 
hearty approbation of it, by quoting the appalling 
Spanish proverb, "The fewer enemies, the better.'"* 
It was reserved for the imbecile Philip the Third to 
crown the disasters of his reign by the expulsion of the 
Moriscoes. Yet no one can doubt that it was a con- 
summation earnestly desired by the great body of the 
Spaniards, who looked, as we have seen, with longing 
eyes to the fair territory which they possessed, and who 
regarded them with the feelings of distrust and aversion 
^th which men regard those on whom they have in- 
flicted injuries too great to be forgiven. 

Yet there were some in the junta with whom the pro- 
posed ordinance found no favor. Among these, one 
who calls to mind his conduct in the Netherlands may 
be surprised to find the duke of Alva. Here, as in 
that country, his course was doubtless dictated less by 
considerations of humanity than of policy. Whatever 
may have been his reasons, they had little weight with 
Espinosa, who probably felt a secret satisfaction in 
thwarting the man whom he regarded with all the 
jealousy of a rival." 

What was Philip's own opinion on the matter we can 

•• " De los encmijos los mcnos." — Grcourt gives > venion of tbc 

whole of the professor's letter, wiih his precious commenlary on thii 
text. (Hist, det Arabes d'Espagne, lorn. ii. p. S7S.) Accorditig to 
Ferreras, Philip highly relished the maum or his ghostly counsellor. 
Hisl. d'Espagae, lorn. ix. p. s^S- 

■■ Cabrera, throwing the responsibility of the subsequent troubles 
on Espinosa and Deia, sarcastically remarks that " two cowls had tha 
ordering of an affair wliich had been better lefi lo men with helmeu 
on their heads." Cabteta, Filipe Segundo, lib. tii. cap. 31. 
Philip.— Vol. III.— b 3 



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■6 THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

but conjecture from our general knowledge of liis char- 
acter. He professed to be guided by the decision of 
the "wise and learned men" to whom he had com- 
mitted the subject. That this decision did no great 
violence to his own feelings, we may infer from the 
promptness with which he signed the ordinance. This 
he did on the seventeenth of November, 1566, when 
the pragmatic became a law. 

It was resolved, however, not to give publicity to it 
at once. It was committed to the particuUi charge of 
one of the members of the junta, Diego Deza, auditor 
of the Holy Office, and lately raised by Espinosa to 
the important post of president of the chancery of 
Granada. This put him at once at the head of the 
civil administration of the province, as the marquis of 
Mondejar was at the head of the military. The differ- 
ent views of policy entertained by the two men led to 
a conflict of authority, which proved highly prejudicial 
to affairs. Deza, who afterwards rose to the dignity 
of cardinal, was a man whose plausible manners cov- 
ered an inflexible will. He showed, notwithstanding, 
an entire subserviency to the wishes of his patron, 
Espinosa, who committed to him the execution of his 
plans. 

The president resolved, with more policy than hu- 
manity, to defer the publication of the edict till the 
ensuing first of January, 1567, the day preceding that 
which the Spaniards commemorated as the anniversary 
of the surrender of the capital. This humiliating 
event, brought home at such a crisis to the Moriscoes, 
might help to break their spirits, and dispose them to 
receive the obnoxious edict with 



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EDICT AGAINST THE MORISCOES. ay 

On the appointed day the magistrates of the princi- 
[lal tribunals, with the corrcgidor of Granada at their 
head, went in solemn procession to the Albaicin, the 
quarter occupied by the Moriscocs. They marched to 
the sound of kettlc-dnims, trumpets, and other instru- 
ments; and the inhabitants, attracted by the noise and 
fond of novelty, came running from their houses to 
swell the ranks of the procession on its way to the 
great square of Bab el Btmat. This was an open 
space, of large extent, where the people of Granada, 
in ancient times, used to assemble to celebrate the 
coronation of a new sovereign ; and the towers were 
still standing from which the Moslem banners waved, 
on those days, over the heads of the shouting multi- 
tude. As the people now gathered tumultuously around 
these ancient buildings, the public crier, from an ele- 
vated place, read, in audible tones and in the Arabic 
language, the royal ordinance. One may imagine the 
emotions of shame, sorrow, and indignation with which 
the vast assembly, consisting of both sexes, listened to 
the words of an instrument every sentence of which 
seemed to convey a personal indignity to the hearers, 
— an outrage on all those ideas of decorum and de- 
cency in which they had been nurtured from infancy; 
which rudely rent asunder all the fond ties of country 
and kindred ; which violated the privacy of domestic 
life, deprived them of the use of their own speech, 
and reduced them to a state of utter humiliation un- 
known to the meanest of their slaves. Some of the 
weaker sort gave way to piteous and passionate excla- 
mations, wringing their hands in an agony of grief. 
Others, of sterner temper, broke forth ii 



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I8 THE MOORS OF SPAIN. 

and fierce invective, accompaQied with the most furioiu 
gesticulations. Others, again, listened with that dog- 
ged, determined air which showed that the mood was 
not the less dangerous that it was a silent one. The 
whole multitude was in a state of such agitation that 
an accident might have readily produced an explosion 
which would have shaken Granada to its foundations. 
Fortunately, there were a few discreet persons in the 
assembly, older and more temperate than the rest, who 
had sufficient authority over their countrymen to pre- 
vent a tumult. They reminded them that in their 
fathers' time the emperor Charles the Fifth had con- 
sented to suspend the execution of a similar ordi- 
nance. At all events, it was better to try first what 
could be done by argument and persuasion. When 
these failed, it would be time enough to think of 
vengeance." 

One of the older Moriscoes, a man of much consid- 
eration among his countrymen, was accordingly chosen 
to wait on the president and explain their views in re- 
gard to the edict. This he did at great length, and in 
a manner which must have satisfied any fair mind of 
the groundlessness of the charges brought against the 
Moslems, and the cnielty and impracticability of the 



•> Marmol, Rebelio 


de loi Morisci 


«. torn. i. pp 


147-151.— Qi^ 


court. Hisl, des 


Arabe 


% d'Espagne, lo 


m. ii. p. a83.- 


-Ferreras, Hist. 


d-Espagne, torn 


ix. p. 


53S.-Dr. Sala^ de Mendo 


a considers that 


Dothing but a real love 


of rebellion cou 


d have induced ibe Moriscoes 


to find a prelex 


fori 


ia a. measure s 


jusl and praiseworthy, and 


every way so c 






salvation, as 




"Tomaroo por 


achaque esta accior t 


m justificada 


7 meriloria del 


Rey, y para su! 




lan provechosa 


1 uJudable." 




E^Ni&a, lom. i> 


p. 137 









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INEFFECTUAL REMONSTRANCE. tq 

measures proposed by the government. The president, 
having granted to the envoy a patient and courteous 
healing, made' a short and not very successful attempt 
to vindicate the course of the administration. He 
finally disposed of the whole question by declaring 
that "the law was too just and holy, and had been 
made with too much consideration, ever to be re- 
peated] and that, in fine, regarded as a question 
of interest, his majesty estimated the salvation of a 
single soul as of greater price than all the revenues 
he drew from the Moriscoes."" An answer like this 
must have eflectually dispelled all thoughts of a com- 
position, such as had formerly been made with the 
emperor. 

Defeated in this quarter, the Moriscoes determined 
to lay their remonstrance before the throne. They 
were fortunate in obtaining for this purpose the ser- 
vices of Don Juan Henriquez, a nobleman of the highest 
rank and consideration, who had large estates at Beza, 
in the heart of Granada, and who felt a strong sym- 
pathy for the unfortunate natives. Having consented, 
though with much reluctance, to undertake the mission, 
he repaired to Madrid, obtained an audience of the 
king, and presented to him a memorial on behalf of 
his unfortunate subjects. Philip received him gra- 
ciously, and promised to give all attention to the 
paper. "What I have done in this matter," said the 
king, "has been done by the advice of wise and con- 

•• "Y al fin concluyd con decirle resolutaraente, que su Magestad 
qudia mas le que iaida. j que preciaba max salvar una alma, qua 
lodo quatito le podian dai de renla los Moriscos nuevaineale oon- 
rartidcn," Mormol, Rebeliau de Ids Moriscos, torn. 1. p. 163. 



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30 THE MOORS OF SFATN. 

Kicntious men, who have given me to understand that 
it was my duty."" 

Shortly afterwards, Henriquez received an intima- 
tion that he was to look for his answer to the president 
of Castile. Espinosa, after listening to the memorial, 
expressed his surprise that a person of the high con- 
dition of Don Juan Henriquez should have consented 
to take charge of such a mission. "It was for that 
very reason I undertook it," replied the nobleman, 
"as affording me a better opportunity of being of 
service to the king." "It can be of no use," said 
the minister : " religious men have represented to hia 
majesty that at his door lies the salvation of these 
Moors; and the ordinance which has been decreed, he 
has determined shall be carried into effect,""* 

Baffled in this direction, the persevering envoy I^d 
his memorial before the councillors of state, and en- 
deavored to interest them in behalf of his clients. In 
this he met with more success; and several of that 
body, among whom may be mentioned the duke of 
Alva and Luis de Avila, the grand commander of Al- 
cintara, whom Charles the Fifth had honored with his 
friendship, entered heartily into his views. But it 
availed little with the minister, who would not even 
consent to delay the execution of the ordinance until 
time should have been given for further inquiry, or to 
confine the operation of it, at the outset, to one or 
two of the provisions, in order to ascertain what would 

■J "Que <1 habia consultado aquel negocio eon hombres de ciencia 
■f conciencU, y le decian t^ue estaba obl^^o d hacer lo que hacia." 
Marmol, Rebelion de los Moriscos, lom, i. p. 175, 

•• "Que el negocio de la prematica eslaba detenninado, 7 (u Htf 
2«iUd [saoluta en que le cumpliesc." Ibid., otri lupca. 



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INEFFECTUAL REMONSTRANCE. 31 

probably be the temper of the Moriscoes.* Nothing 
would suit the peremptory humor of Espinosa but the 
instant execution of the law in all its details. 

Nor would he abate any thing of this haughty tone in 
favor of the captain -general, the marquis of Mondejar. 
That nobleman, with good reason, had felt himself 
aggrieved that in discussions so materially affecting his 
own government he should not have been invited to 
take a part. From motives of expediency, as much as 
of humanity, he was decidedly opposed to the passage 
of the ordinance. It was perhaps a knowledge of this 
that had excluded him from a seat in the junta. His 
representations made no impression on Espinosa ; and 
when he urged that, if the law were to be carried into 
effect, he ought to be provided with such a force as 
would enable him to quell any attempt at resistance, 
the minister made light of the danger, assuring him 
that three hundred additional troops were as many as 
the occasion demanded. Espinosa then peremptorily 
adjourned all further discussion, by telling the captain- 
general that it would be well for him to return at onre 
to Granada, where his presence would be needed to 
enforce the execution of the law." 

It was clear that no door was left open to further 
discussion, and that, under the present government, no 

Q Maimol, Rebelion de lt» Moiiscoi, torn. i. p. 176. — Cabrera, 
Fnipe Segundo, lib. yii. cap. ai, 

■* " A estas y otras muchas raiones que el Maiques de Mondejar 
daba. Don Diego de Espinosa le respotidid, que la volunlad de m 
Magestad en aquella, y que se fuese al reyno de Giajiada, donde 
lerla de mucha importancia su persona, atropellanda como siempre 
todas las dificullades que le ponian par delaate." Marmol, Rebelioo 
de los MorilciM, lom. i. p. \(A. 



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3« 



THE MOORS OF SPAI.V. 



chance remained to the unfortunate Moriscoes of buy- 
ing off the law by the payment of a round sum, as in 
the time of Charles the Fifth. All negotiations were 
at an end. They had only to choose between implicit 
obedience and open rebellion. It was not strange tlut 
they chose the latter. 



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CHAPTER II. 

KEBELLIOK OF THE HORISCOES. 



1568, 

The same day on which the ordinance was published 
in the capital, it was proclaimed in every part of the 
kingdom of Granada. Everywhere it was received with 
the same feelings of shame, sorrow, and indignation. 
Before giving way to these feelings by any precipitate 
action, the Moriscoes of the Alpujarras were discreet 
enough to confer with their countrymen in the Albai- 
cin, who advised them to remain quiet until they 
should learn the result of the conferences going on at 
Madrid. 

Before these were concluded, the year expired after 
which it would be penal for a Morisco to wear gar* 
ments of silk. By the president's orders it was pro- 
claimed by the clergy, in the pulpits throughout the 
city, that the law would be enforced to the letter. 
This was followed by more than one edict relating to 
other matters, but yet tending to irriutc still further 
the minds of the Moriscoes.' 

■ An ordinance wu passed at this time, that the Moriscoes who had 
come from the country to reside, with their binilies, in Grannda. 
■bould leave the dtj and return whence the; came, under ptin al 
»• (33) 



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34 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



All hope of relieving themselves of the detested ordi 
nance having thus vanished, the leaders of the Albaicia 
took counsel as to the best mode of resisting the gov- 
ernment. The first step seemed to be to get possession 
of the capital. There was at this time in Granada a 
Morisco named Farax Aben-Farax, who followed the 
trade of a dyer. But, though he was engaged in this 
humble calling, the best blood of the Abencerrages 
flowed in his veins. He was a man of a fierce, indeed 
ferocious nature, hating the Christians with his whole 
heart, and longing for the hour when he could avenge 
on their heads the calamities of his countrymen. As 
his occupation carried him frequently into the Alpu- 
jarras, he was extensively acquainted with the inhabit- 
ants. He undertook to raise a force there of eight 
thousand men and bring them down secretly by night 
into the vega, where, with the aid of his countrymen 
in the Albaicin, he might effect an entrance into the 
city, overpower the garrison in the Alhambra, put all 
who resisted to the sword, and make himself master of 
the capital. The time iixed upon for the execution of 
the plan was Holy Thursday, in the ensuing month of 

death. (Mannol. Rebelion de loa Moriscoj, torn. L p. 169.) By 
onolher ordinance, ihe Moriscoes were required to give up their 
children between the ages of three and fifteen, to be placed In schools 
and educated in the Christian doctrine and the Castilian tongue^ 
(Ibid., p. 170.) The Nutva Rtcopilacwn contains two laws passed 
about (his timet making it a capita] offence to hold any intercourse 
with Turks or Moors who might visit Granada, even though they 
came not as corsairs, but for purposes of traffic. (Lib. viii. tit 
96. leyes 16, iB.) Such a law proves the conslanl apprehensions in 
wliich the Spaniards Uved of a treasonable correspondence between 
Iheii MoiiSGO subjects and the foreign Moslems. 



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JIESISTANC£ OF THE MORISCOES. 



35 



April, when the attention of the Spaniards would be 
occupied with th(;ir religious solemnities. 

A secret known to so many could not be so well 
kept, and for so long a time, but that some informa- 
tion of it reached the ears of the Christians. It seems 
to have given little uneasiness to Deza, who had antici- 
pated some such attempt from the turbulent spirit of 
the Moriscoes. The captain -general, however, thought 
it prudent to take additional precautions against it ; 
and he accordingly distributed arms among the citi- 
zens, strengthened the garrison of the Alhambra, and 
visited several of the great towns on the frontiers, 
which he placed in a better posture of defence. The 
Moriscoes, finding their purpose exposed to the authori- 
ties, resolved to defer the execution of it for the pres- 
ent. They even postponed it to as late a date as the 
beginning of the following year, 1569. To this they 
were led, we are told, by a prediction found in their 
religious books, that the year of their liberation would 
be one that began on a Saturday. It is probable that 
the wiser men of the Albaicin were less influenced by 
their own belief in the truth of the prophecy than by 
the influence it would exert over the superstitious 
minds of the mountMneers, among whom it was dili- 
gently circulated.* 

Having settled on the first of January for the rising, 
the Moslems of Granada strove, by every outward show 
of loyalty, to quiet the suspicions of the government. 
But in this they were thwarted by the information 

■ Marmol, Rebelion de las Moriscos. torn. i. pp. 393-333. — Men- 
doiK. GueiTB de Granada (Valencia, 1776), p. 43. — Hits. Guenan de 
(tionada. tom^ ii. p. 724. 



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3(( REBELLION OF TUB MORISCOES. 

wliich the latter obtained through more trustworthy 
channels. Still surer evidence of theit intentions was 
found in a letter which fell by accident into the hands 
of the marquis of Mondejar. It was addressed by one 
of the leaders of the Albaicin to the Moslems of the 
Barbary coast, invoking their aid by the ties of con* 
sanguinity and of a common faith. "We are sorely 
beset," says the writer, "and our enemies encompass 
us all around like a consuming fire. Our troubles are 
too grievous to be endured. Written," concludes the 
passionate author of the epistle, "in nights of tears 
and anguish, with hope yet lingering, — such hope as 
still survives amidst all the bitterness of the soul."* 

But the Barbary powers were too much occupied by 
their petty feuds to give much more than fair words to 
their unfortunate brethren of Granada. Perhaps they 
distrusted the eflScacy of any aid they could render in 
so unequal a contest as that against the Spanish mon- 
archy. Yet they allowed their subjects to embark as 
volunteers in the war; and some good service was ren- 
dered by the Barbary corsairs, who infested the coasts 
of the Mediterranean, as well as by the monfis, — as the 
African adventurers were called, who took part with 
their brethren in the Alpujarras, where they made 
themselves conspicuous by their implacable ferocity 
against the Christians. 

Meanwhile the hot blood of the mountaineers was 
too much inflamed by the prospect of regaining their 
independence to allow them to wait patiently for the 

9 " Eicrita en nochei de ongustia j ds laf^mas corriente). uuten- 



Kil, Rebelion de lot Moriscos, t 



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NIGHT-ASSAULT ON GRANADA. 



37 



day fixed upon for the outbreak. Before that time 
arrived, several acts of violence were perpetrated, — 
forerunners of the bloody work that was at hand. In 
the month of December, 1568, a body of Spanish 
alguazils, with some other officers of justice, were cut 
off in the neighborhood of Granada, on their way to 
that city. A party of fifty soldiers, as they were bear- 
ing to the capital a considerable quantity of muskets, 
— a tempting prize to the unarmed Moriscoes, — were 
all murdered, most of them in their beds, in a little 
village among the mountains where they had baited for 
the night.* After this outrage, Aben-Farax, the bold 
dyer of Granada, aware of the excitement it must 
create in the capital, became convinced it would not 
be safe for him to postpone his intended assault a day 
longer. 

At the head of only a hundred and eighty followers, 
without waiting to collect a larger force, he made his 
descent, on the night of the twenty-sixth of December, 
a week before the appointed time, into the vega of 
Granada. It was a dreadful night. A snow-storm was 
raging wildly among the mountains and sweeping down 
in pitiless fury on the plains below.* Favored by the 

• Maniiol, Rebetlon de los Moriscos, lorn. i. p. 935. 
I " La fiitia horrible ds Ih torbdllnoi 

Cada momento maj le Tee yr creclemjo, 

TuDblen lu hombrei luego n cubrlcado." 

So ungs. or mlher says. Ihe poet-chronicler Rufo. whose epic of 
fbur-and-twenty cantos shows him to have been much more of ■ 
chronicler than a poet. Indeed, in his pre/ace ha a»owi that slrici 
conformity to truth which is the cardinal virtue of the chronicler. 
See Ihe Austriada (Madrid, 15B4]. 
Philip.— Vol. Ill 4 



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j8 XEBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

commotion of the elements, Aben-Farax succeeded, 
without attracting observation, in forcing an entrance 
through the dilapidated walls of the city, penetrated at 
once into the Albaicin, and endeavored to rouse the 
inhabitants from their slumbers. Some few came to 
their windows, it is said, but, on learning the nature 
of the summons, hastily closed the casements and 
withdrew, telling Aben-Farax that " it was madness to 
undertake the enterprise with so small a force, and that 
he had come before his time."* It was in vain that 
the enraged chief poured forth imprecations on their 
perfidy and cowardice, in vain that he marched through 
the deserted streets, demolishing crucifixes and other 
symbols of Christian worship which he found in his 
way, or that he shouted out the watchword of the 
f^thful, "There is but one God, and Mahomet is the 
prophet of God !" The uproar of the tempest, fortu- 
nately for him, drowned every other noise ; and no 
alarm was given till he stumbled on a guard of some 
five or six soldiers who were huddled round a fire in 
one of the public squares. One of these Farax de- 
spatched; the others made their escape, raising the cry 
that the enemy was upon them. The great bell of St. 
Salvador rang violently, calling the inhabitants to 

• " Pocos sois, i venls prealo." Mendoia. Guetia de Granada, p. 
47. — Hila gives a cancioa in hii work, the burden of which is a com- 
plaint thai the mountaineers had made their attack loo late instead 

"Pocotioa, ;>TuIiBidL" 

{Guerras de Granada, torn. ii. p. 32.) The difference is explainedbr 
the circumstance that tlie author of the lerses — probably Hila him- 
bell^-conaidera that Christmas Eve, not New Year's Eve, was the titna 



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NIGHT-ASSAULT ON GRANADA. 39 

anns. Dawn was fast approaching j and the Moorish 
chief, who felt himself unequal to an encounter in 
which he was not to be supported by his brethren in 
the Albaicin, thought it prudent to make his retreat. 
This he did with colors flying and music playing, all in 
as cool and orderly a manner as if it had been only a 
holiday parade. 

Meantime the citizens, thus suddenly startled from 
their beds, gathered together, with ea^er looks and 
faces white with fear, to learn the cause of the tumult; 
and their alarm was not diminished by finding that the 
enemy had been prowling round their dwellings, like a 
troop of mountain wolves, while they had been buried 
in slumber. The marquis of Mondejar called his men 
to horse, and would have instantly given chase to the 
invaders, but waited until he had learned the actual 
condition of the Albaicin, where a population of ten 
thousand Moriscoes, had they been mischievously in- 
clined, might, notwithstanding the timely etforts of the 
government to disarm them, have proved too strong 
for the slender Spanish garrison in the Alhambra. All, 
however, was quiet in the Moorish quarter ; and, as- 
sured of this, the captain -general sallied out, at the 
head of his cavalry and a small corps of foot, in quest 
of the enemy. But he had struck into the mountain- 
passes south of Granada; and Mendoza, after keeping 
on his track, as well as the blinding tempest would 
permit, through the greater part of the day, at night- 
fall gave up the pursuit as hopeless and brought back 
his way-worn cavalcade to the city.' 

' Mumol. Rebelion de los Moriscos, torn. i. p. 33S. — Uendoia, 
Ouemi de Granada, pp, 45-59. — Minisma, Hist, de Espafia, p. 367. — 



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40 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

Aben-Farax and his troop, meanwhile, traversing 
the snowy skirts of the Sierra Nevada, came out on 
the broad and populous valley of Lecrin, spreading the 
tidings everywhere, as they went, that the insurrection 
was begun, that the Albaicin was In movement, and 
calling on all true believers to take up arms in defence 
of their faith. The summons did not fall on deaf ears. 
A train had been fired which ran along the mountain- 
regions to the south of Granada, stretching from Alme- 
ria and the Murcian borders on the east to the neigh- 
borhood of Velez Malaga on the west. In three days 
the whole country was in arms. Then burst forth the 
fierce passions of the Arab, — all that unquenchable 
hate which seventy years of oppression had nourished 
in his bosom, and which now showed itself in one uni- 
versal cry for vengeance. The bloody drama opened 
with the massacre of nearly every Christian man within 
the Moorish borders, — and that too with circumstances 
of a refined and deliberate cruelty of which, happily, ' 
few examples are to be found in history. 

The first step„however, in the revolutionary move- 
ment had been a false one, inasmuch as the insurgents 
had failed to secure possession of the capital, which 
would have furnished so important 3.point d'appui for 
future operations. Yet, if contemporary chroniclers 
are correct, this failure should rather be imputed to 
miscalculation than to cowardice. According to them, 
the persons of most consideration in the Albaicin were 
many of them wealthy citizens, accustomed to the 
easy, luxurious way of life so well suited to the Moorish 
— Feneias, Hist. d'EspBgnf^ 



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ELECTION OF A KING. 41 

last;. They had never intended to peril their fortunes 
by engaging personally in so formidable a contest as 
that with the Castilian crown. They had only pro- 
posed to urge their simple countrymen in the Alpu- 
jarras to such a show of resistance as should intimi- 
date the Spaniards and lead them to mitigate, if not 
indeed to rescind, the hated ordinance.* If such was 
their calculation, as the result showed, it miserably 
failed. 

As the Moriscoes had now proclaimed their inde- 
pendence, it became necessary to choose a sovereign 
in place of the one whose authority they had cast aside. 
The leaders in the Albaicin selected for this dangerous 
pre-eminence a young man who was known to the 
Spaniards by his Castilian name of Don Fernando de 
Valor. He was descended in a direct line from the 
ancient house of the Omeyas,* who for nearly four 
centuries had sat with glory on the throne of Cdrdova. 
He was but twenty-two years of age at the time of his 
election, and according to a contemporary, who had 
seen him, possessed a comely person and engaging 
manners. His complexion was of a deep olive ; his 
beard was thin ; his eyes were large and dark, with 
eyebrows well defined and nearly approaching each 
other. His deportment was truly royal ; and his lofty 
:s were worthy of the princely line from which 

mo y lo otro seria parte paia que por bien da 
n en I0 de la prematica., nin aventurar eltos 5Ui 
Mannot, Rebelion de I01 Moiiscos. lorn. i. 
p. 939. 

* Ben) UmejTafa in the Arabic, according to on indisputable au- 
thoriti, mf learned friend Don Pascual de Gayangos. See hii VLo- 
bamnwuian Dynasties in Spain, /oxjim. 



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41 REBELLION OP THE MORISCOES. 

he was descended." Notwithstanding this flattering 
portrait from the pen of a Castilian, his best recom- 
niendation, to judge from his subsequent career, seems 
to have been his descent from a line of Icings, lie 
had been so prodigal in his way of life that, though su 
young, he had squandered his patrimony and was at 
this very time under arrest for debt. He had the fiery 
temperament of his nation, and had given evidence of 
it by murdering with his own hand a man who had 
borne testimony against his father in a criminal prose- 
cution. Amidst his luxurious self-indulgence he must 
be allowed to have shown some energy of character 
and an unquestionable courage. He was attached to 
the institutions of his country; and his ferocious nature 
was veiled under a bland and plausible exterior, that 
won hira golden opinions from the multitude," 

Soon after his election, and just before the irruption 
of Aben-Farax, the Morisco prince succeeded in mak- 
ing his escape from Granada, and, flying to the moun- 

■■ " Era muicebo de vdnte y doa alios, de poca barba. color moreno, 
venlineeTO, cejijunlo, ojos negros 7 erandes. ^entil hombre de cuerpo : 
mostraba en su taJle y garbo ser de sangre real, como en verdad Jo 
eta, leniendo los pensamientos correspondientes." Hita, Guerras de 
Granada, lom. ii. p. 13. — Few will be disposed lo acquiesce in the 
lavage tone of criticism with which the learned Nic. Antonio de- 
nounces Hita's charming volumes as " Milesian (ales, tit only (a 
amuse Ihe laiy and the listless." (Bibliolheca Nova, torn, i. p. 536.) 
Hita was undoubtedly the prince of romancers ; but fiction ii not 
Msehood \ and when Ihe novelist, who served in the wan of Ihe 
Alpujamu, tells us of things which he professes 10 have seen wiib 
hli own eyes, we may surely cite him as on historical authority. 

u " Usava de blandura general ; queria. ser tenido por Cabeia. i no 
por Rei : la cnieldad, la codicia cubierta engalid i muchos en toi 
priDdpios." Mendoia. Guem de Granada, p. lag. 



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ELECTION OF A KING. 



43 



tains, took refiige among his own kindred, the powerful 
iamily of the Valoris, in the village of Beznar. Here 
his countrymen gathered round him, and confirmed by 
acclamation the choice of the people of Granada. Foi 
tliis the young chieftain was greatly indebted to the 
efforts of his uncle, Aben-Jahuar, commonly called El 
Zaguer, a man of much authority among his tribe, 
who, waiving his own claims to the sceptre, employed 
his influence in favor of his nephew. 

The ceremony of the coronation was of a martial 
kind, well suited to the rough fortunes of the adven- 
turer. Four standards, emblazoned with the Moslem 
crescent, were spread upon the ground, with their 
Epear-heads severally turned towards the four points of 
the compass. The Moorish prince, who had been pre- 
viously arrayed in a purple robe, with a crimson scarf 
or shawl, the insignia of rO)^lty, enveloping his shoul- 
ders, knelt down on the banners, with his face turned 
towards Mecca, and, after a brief prayer, solemnly 
swore to live and die in defence of his crown, his 
faith, and his subjects. One of the principal attend- 
ants, prostrating himself on the ground, kissed the 
footprints of the newly-elected monarch, in token of 
the allegiance of the people. He was then raised on 
the shoulders of four of the assistants, and borne alofl 
amidst the waving of banners and the loud shouts of 
the multitude, "Allah exalt Muley-Mohammed-Aben- 
Humeya, lord of Andalucia and Granada!"" Such 

" Meadoia, Guerra de Granada, p. 40. — The ceremonies of the 
ravonatioa moke, of course, a brave show in Rufo's epic. One stanza 



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44 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

were the simple forms practised in ancient times bjr 
the Spanish-Arabian princes, when their empire, in- 
stead of being contracted within the rocky girdle of 
the mountains, stretched over the fairest portions of 
the Peninsula, •* 

The first act of Aben-Humeya was to make his ap- 
pointments to the chief military offices. El Zaguer, 
his uncle, he made captain -general of his foTces. 
Aben-Farax, who had himself aspired to the diadem, 
he removed to a distance, by sending him on an expe- 
dition to collect such treasures as could be gathered 
from the Christian churches in the Alpujarras. He 
appointed officers to take charge of the different iahas, 
or districts, into which the country was divided. Hav- 
ing completed these arrangements, the new monarch — 
the reyezuelo, or "little king," of the Alpujarras, as he 
was contemptuously styled by the Spaniards— transferred 
his residence to the central part of his dominions, where- 
he repeated the ceremony of his coronation. He made 
a rapid visit to the most important places in the sierra, 
everywhere calling on the inhabitants to return to their 
ancient faith and to throw off the hated yoke of the 
Spaniards. He then established himself in the wildest 
parts of the Alpujarras, where he endeavored to draw 



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MASSACRE OF THE CHRISTIANS. 45 

his forces to a head, and formed the plan of his cam- 
paign. It was such as was naturally suggested by the 
character of the country, which, broken and precipi- 
tous, intersected by many a deep ravine and dangerous 
pass, afforded excellent opportunities for harassing an 
invading foe, and for entangling him in those in- 
extricable defiles, where a few mountaineers acquainted 
with the ground would be more than a match for an 
enemy far superior in discipline and numbers. 

While Aben-Humeya was thus occupied in preparing 
for the struggle, the work of death tiad already b^un 
among the Spanish population of the Alpujarras ; and 
Spaniards were to be found, in greater or less numbers, 
in all the Moorish towns and hamlets that dotted the 
dark sides of the sierras or nestled in the green valleys 
at their base. Here they dwelt side by side with the 
Moriscoes, employed, probably, less in the labors of 
the loom, for which the natives of this region had long 
been famous, than in that careful husbandry which 
they might readily have learned from theii Moorish 
neighbors, and which, under their hands, had clothed 
every spot with verdure, making the wilderness to 
blossom like the rose.** Thus living in the midst of 
those who professed the same religion with themselves, 
and in the occasional interchange, at least, of the kind 
offices of social intercourse, which sometimes led to 
nearer domestic ties, the Christians of the Alpujarras 



"Qu.. 



CaldcroD, AmH dopuca ile "a. Mueita, Joiudii II. 



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46 FEBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

dwelt in blind security, little dreaming of the mine 
beneath their feet. 

But no sooner was the first note of insurrection 
sounded than the scene changed as if by magic. 
£very Morisco threw away his mask, and, turning on 
the Christians, showed himself in his true aspect, as 
their avowed and mortal enemy. 

A simultaneous movement of this kind, through so 
wide an extent of country, intimates a weU<:oncerted 
plan of operations ; and we may sliare in the astonish- 
ment of the Castilian writers that a secret of such a 
nature and known to so many individuals should have 
been so long and faithfully kept, — in the midst, too, 
of those who had the greatest interest in delecting it,"* 
■ — some of them, it may be added, spies of the Inquisi- 
tion, endowed, as they seem to have been, with al- 
most supernatural powers for scenting out the taint of 
heresy."* It argues an intense feeling of hatred in the 
Moriscathat he could have been so long proof against 
the garrulity that loosens the tongue, and against the 
sympathy that so often, in similar situations, unlocks 
the heart to save some friend from the doom of his 
companions. But no such instance either of levity or 
lenity occurred among this extraordinary people. And 



Ct«,queadinitayde™," 
ColdsTon. Anur detpua dc la Muenc, Joniuli II. 
^ "Uoa cosa mui de notar calilica los principtoa desti rebel ion. qur 
genie de mediana coadiclon moalrada i. guudar poco secreto i hablar 
juntos, callasCD tanio liempo, i lanio) hombres, en tierra donde hai 
Alcaldes de corte i Inqulsidores. cuya profesion es descubrit delitos." 
Mendoia, Guerra de Granada, p. 36, 



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MASSACRE OF THE CHRISTIANS. 47 

when the hour arrived, and the Christians discerncrl 
their danger in the menacing looks and gestures of 
their Moslem neighbors, they were as much astounded 
by it as the unsuspecting traveller on whom, as he 
heedlessly journeys through some pleasant country, 
the highwayman has darted from his covert by the 
roadside. 

The first impulse of the Christians seems to have 
been very generally to take refuge in the churches; 
and every village, however small, had at least one 
church, where the two races met together to join in 
the forms of Christian worship. The fugitives thought 
to find protection in their holy places and in the pres- 
ence of their venerated pastors, whose spiritual author- 
ity had extended over all the inhabitants. But the wild 
animal of the forest, now that he had regained his free- 
dom, gave little heed to the call of his former keeper, 
— unless it were to turn and rend him. 

Here, crowded together like a herd of panic-stricken 
deer with the hounds upon their track, the terrified 
people soon found the church was no place of security, 
and they took refuge in the adjoining tower, as a place 
of greater strength and affording a better means of 
defence against an enemy. The mob of their pursuers 
then broke into the church, which they speedily de- 
spoiled of its ornaments, trampling the crucifixes and 
other religious symbols under their feet, rolling the 
sacred images in the dust, and desecrating the altars 
by the sacrifice of swine, or by some other act denoting 
their scorn and hatred of the Christian worship." 



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48 ttEBELLION OF THE MORISCOMS. 

They next assailed the towers, the entrances to which 
the Spaniards had barricaded as strongly as they could , 
though, unprovided as they were with means of defence, 
except such arms as they had snatched in the hurry 
of their flight, they could have little hope of standing 
a siege. Unfortunately, these towers were built more 
or less of wood, which the assailants readily set on fire, 
and thus compelled the miserable inmates either to 
surrender or to perish in the flames. In some instances 
they chose the latter; and the little garrison — ^men, 
women, and children — were consumed together on one 
common funeral pile. More frequently they shrank 
from this fearful death, and surrendered at the mercy 
of their conquerors, — such mercy as made them soon 
regret that they had not stayed by the blazing rafters. 

The men were speedily separated from the women, 
and driven, with blows and imprecations, like so many 
cattle, to a place of confinement. From this loath- 
some prison they were dragged out, three or four at a 
time, day after day, the longer to protract their sufier- 
ings; then, with their arms pinioned behind them, and 
stripped of their clothing, they were thrown into the 
midst of an infuriated mob, consisting of both sexes, 
who, armed with swords, hatchets, and bludgeons, soou 
felled their victims to the ground and completed the 
bloody work. 

The mode of death was often varied to suit the ca- 
pricious cruelty of the executioners. At Guecija, where 
the olive grew abundant, there was a convent of Augus- 
tine monks, who were alt murdered by being thrown 
li sacrilegjo que ao comeUeroD." Marmnt 
>m. i. p. a7S. 



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J^ASSACRE OF THE CHRISTIANS. 49 

into caldrons of boiling oil." Sometimes the death of 
the victim was attended with circumstances of diaboli- 
cal cruelty not surpassed by any thing recorded of our 
North American savages. At a place called Pitres de 
Ferre'yra, the priest of the village was raised by means 
of a pulley to a beam that projected from the tower, 
and was then allowed to drop from a great height upon 
the ground. The act was repeated more than once, in 
the presence of his aged mother, who, in an agony of 
grief, embracing her dying son, besought him "to trust 
in God and the Blessed Virgin, who through these tor- 
ments would bring him into eternal life." Tlie mangled 
carcass of the poor victim, broken and dislocated in 
every limb, was then turned over to the Moorish women, 
who, with their scissors, bodkitis, and other feminine 
implements, speedily despatched him." 

The women, indeed, throughout this persecution, 
seem to have had as rabid a thirst for vengeance as the 
men. Even the children were encouraged to play their 
part in the bloody drama; and many a miserable cap- 
tive was set up as a target to be shot at with the arrows 
of the Moorish boys. 

The rage of the barbarians was especially directed 
against the priests, who had so often poured forth ana- 
themas against the religion which the Moslems loved, 
and who, as their spiritual directors, had so often called 

* " Quemaron por voto un Convento de Frailes Auguslmos, que se 
rccogieron a la Torre echandoles por un borado de la a.iio aieite 
nirviendo : sirvieodose de la abundancia que Dim les di6 en aquelU 
tierra, para ahogar sus Frailex." Mendoia. Guena de Granada, p. 
60. 

•* Marmol, Rebelion de Gianada. torn. i. p. 171. — Ferrerm, Hist. 
d'Espagne, torn. ix. p. 58a. 

Philip.— Vol, III.— c s 



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5© REBELLION OF THE MOKISCOES. 

them to account for ofTences against the religion which 
they abliorred. At Coadba the priest was stretched out 
before a brazier of live coals until his feet, which had 
been smeared with pitch and oil, were burned to a 
cinder. His two sisters were compelled to witness the 
igonies of their brother, which were still further height- 
ened by the brutal treatment which he saw them endure 
from their tormentors." 

Fire was employed as a common mode of torture, 
by way of retaliation, it may be, for similar sufferings 
inflicted on the infidel by the Inquisition. Sometimes 
the punishments seemed to be contrived so as to form a 
fiendish parody on the exercises of the Roman Catho- 
lic religion. In the town of Filix the pastor was made 
to take his seat before the altar, with his two sacristans, 
one on either side of him. The bell was rung, as if to 
call the people together to worship. The sacristans 
were each provided with a roll containing the names 
of the congregation, which they were required to call 
over, as usual, before the services, in order to see that 
no one was absent. As each Morisco answered to his 
name, he passed before the priest, and dealt htm a 
blow with his fist, or the women plucked his beard and 
hair, accompanying the act with some bitter taunt, 
expressive of their mortal hate. When every one had 
thus had the opportunity of gratifying his personal 
grudge against his ancient pastor, the executioner 
stepped forward, armed with a razor, with which he 
scored the face of the ecclesiastic in the detested form 

' " Y para darle mayor lotmento (raxeton alii dos hermanaa don- 
celkas que tenia, para que le viesen morir, y en su presencialasvilune- 
nron y maltraiaron." Marmol. Bebelioo de Granada, torn, i, p. 316. 



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MASSACRE OF THE CHRISTIANS. 51 

of the cross, and then, beginning with the fingers, 
deliberately proceeded to sever each of the joints of 
his wretched victim !" 

But it is unnecessary to shock toe reader with more 
of these loathsome details, enough of which have al- 
ready been given, not merely to prove the vindictive 
temper of the Morisco, but to suggest the inference 
that it could only have been a long course of cruelty 
and oppression that stimulated him to such an awful 
exhibition of it." The whole number of Christians 
who, in the course of ^a week, thus perished in these 
massacres, — if we are tq/receive the accounts of Cas- 
tilian writers, — ^was not less than three thousand!" 

** " L1eg6 un herege £ ^1 con una na.vaja., -j le peisin6 con ella, 
bendiendole el rostro de alto abaxo. y por Irav^; y luego le des- 
pedaz6 coyuntura por coyuntura, y miembro i, miembro." Marmol, 
Rebelion de Granada, torn. i. p. 348. — Among other kinds of tonure 
which they invented, says Mendoza, Ihey filled the curate of Maoena 
with gunpowder, and then blew him up. Guerra de Granada, p. 60. 

" Of all the Spanish historian? no one discovers so insatiable an 
appetite for these hoirois as Ferreras, who has devoted nearly fifty 
quarto pages [0 an account of the diabolical cruellies practised by the 

iribution to the annals of Christian martyrology. One may doubt, 
however, wliether the Spaniards are entirely justified in claiming the 
crown of martyrdom for alt who perished in this persecution. Those, 
nndoabtedly. have a right to il who might have saved their lives by 
renouncing iheir taith ; but there is no evidence that this grace was 

stimulated by other motives besides those of a religious nature, — such 
motives as would naturally operate on a conquered race, burning with 
hatred of their conquerors and with the thirst of vengeance for the 
manifold wrongs which they had endured. 

■3 " Murieron en pocos mas de quatro dias, con muertes eique^las 
y no imaeinados tortnentos, tnas de tree mil manites." Vinderham- 
■nen, Don Juan de Austria, fbl. 70. 



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5" 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



Considering the social relations which must to some 
extent have been established between those who had 
lived so long in the neighborhood of one another, it 
might be thought that, on some occasions, sympathy 
would have been shown for the sufferers, or that some 
protecting ann would have been stretched out to save 
a friend or a companion from the general doom. But 
the nearest approach to such an act of humanity was 
given by a Morisco who plunged his sword in the body 
of a Spaniard, in order to save him from the lingering 
death that otherwise would await him,** 

Of the whole Christian population very few' of the 
men who fell into the hands of the Moslems escaped 
with life. The women were not always spared. The 
Morisco women, especially, who had married Christian 
husbands and embraced Christianity, which they refused 
to abjure, became the objects of vengeance to their own 
sex. Sad to say, even the innocence and helplessness ' 
of childhood proved no protection against the fury of 
persecution. The historians record the names of several 
boys, from ten to twelve or thirteen years of age, who 
were barbarously murdered because they would not re- 
nounce the religion in which they had been nurtured 
for that of Mahomet. If they were too young to give 
a reason for their faith, they had at least learned the 
lesson that to renounce it was a great sin ; and, when 
led out like lambs to the slaughter, their mothen, we 
are told, stifling the suggestions of natural affection in 

H " Se adelantA un Moro, que solia ser giande amigo snyo, 7 hua- 
endose encontradito con i\ en el umbra] de la puerta, le atrBves6 una 
ctpada por el cuerpo. diciendole : Tama, amigo, que mas vale que te 
mate yo que otro." Manual, Rebelion de Granada, torn. i. p. 277. 



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MASSACRE OF THE CHRISTIANS. 



53 



obedience to a higher law, urged their children not to 
ghrinlc from the trial, nor to purchase a few years of 
life at the price of their own souls.** It is a matter 
of no little gratulation to a Catholic historian that 
amongst all those who perished in these frightful 
massacres there was not one of any age or either sex 
who could be tempted to secure personal safety by the 
sacrifice of religious convictions." On the contrary, 
they employed the brief respite that was left them in 
fortifying one another's courage, and in bearing testi- 
mony to the tnith in so earnest a manner that they 
might almost seem to have courted the crown of mar- 
tyrdom. Yet among these martyrs there were more 
than one, it is admitted, whose previous way of life 
showed but a dim perception of the value of that 
religion for which they were thus prepared to lay down 
their lives.' 

The chief blame of these indiscriminate proscrip- 
tions lias been laid on Aben-Farax, the famous dyer 
of Granada, whose appetite for blood seems to have 
been as insatiable as that of any wild beast in the 
Alpujarras. In executing the commission assigned to 
him by Aben-Humeya, he was obliged to visit all 

■s Ferreras, Hist. d'Espagne, torn. ix. p. 617. 

•• " Fue gran testimonio de nuealra K f de compararse con la del 
(ienipo delos Apostoles; que en tanto numero de gente como muriS 
\, manos de iniieles ninguno huvo que quisiese renegar." Mendoia, 
Gueira de Gmnada, p. 61. 

V " Todos estuvieron tan constantes en la Tk, que si bien fiieron 
Dombidados con grandes riqueias y bienes i que la dejasen, con nin- 
(QDO le pudo acabai; aunqne entre loa manytiiados huvo rouchal 
raogeres, niflos j hombres que havian vivido descompuestamenle." 
fniaax de MoudDia, Monaiquia dc Espafta, torn. ii. p. 139. 



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i;4 REBELLION OF THE MOXISCOES. 

parts of the country. Wherever he came, impatient 
of the slower movements of his countrymen in the 
work of destruction, he caused the prisons to be 
emptied and the wretched inmates to be butchered 
before his eyes. At Ugijar he thus directed the execu- 
tion of no less than two hundred and forty Christians, 
laymen and ecclesiastics.' His progress through the 
land was literally over the dead bodies of his victims. 
Fierce as he was, Aben-Humeya had some touches of 
humanity in his nature, which made him revolt at the 
wholesale murders perpetrated by his lieutenant. He 
was the more indignant when, on hastening to Ugijax 
to save the lives of some of the captives, his friends, he 
found that he had come loo late, for the man of blood 
had been there before him. He soon after summoned 
his officer into his presence, not with the impolitic 
design of taxing him with his cruelties, but to call him 
to a reckoning for the treasure he had pillaged from the 
churches ; and, dissatisfied, or affecting to be so, with 
his report, he at once deposed Aben-Farax from his 
command. The ferocious chief submitted without a 
murmur. He descended into the common file, and no 
more appears on the scene. He was one of those 
miscreants who are thrown on the surface by the 
turmoil of a revolution, and, after floating there for a 
while, disappear from sight, and the wave of history 
closes over them forever. 

' " Murieron este dia en Uiivu' docienios y quarenta Chrtotiaiiai 

clerigos y legos, y entre ellos sea, canonigos de aquella iglesla que «« 
coleBial." Marmol, Rebelion de Granar^a, torn. i. p. 397. 



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CHAPTER 111. 

REBELLION OF THE 

f»aic Id Granada. — Muster of Troops. — Mondejar lakes Ibe Field. — 
Bold PauagE at Tablate.— Retreat of (he Moriscoes.— Combat al- 

Alfajarali.— Perilous March.— Massacre at Jubilea.— The Liberated 
Christians. 

1568, 1569. 

As day after day brought tidings to the people of 
Granadaof the barbarities perpetrated in the Alpujarras, 
the whole city was filled with grief and consternation. 
The men might be seen gathered together in knots in 
the public squares ; the women ran about from house 
to house, telling the tale of horrors, which could hardly 
be exaggerated in the recital. They thronged to the 
churches, where the archbishop and the clergy were all 
day long oifering up prayers, to avert the wrath of 
Heaven from Granada. The places of business were 
abandoned. The shops and booths were closed.' As 
men called to mind the late irruption of Aben-Farax, 
they were filled with apprehensions that the same thing 
would be attempted again ; and rumors went abroad 
that the mountaineers were plotting another descent on 



■ " EsUvan las casas 


yermas i tien> 


das cenadas, suspenso e 


1 tralo. 


nudadai las horas de of 


iciosdivinosil 




ilosRel 






i plegarias, ei 


imo se siiele en I 


iempo i 


ipunto 




Mendoia. Goerra de Granada, 


P-54>- 


-Men- 


doia paints the panic of 


Granada wilh 


; the pencil of Ta 


icilus. 
(55) 





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56 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

the city, and, with the aid of their countrymen in the 
Albaicin, would soon deluge the streets with the blood 
of the Christians. Under the influence of these fears. 
some toolc refuge in the fortress of the Alhambraj 
others fled into the country. Many kept watch during 
the long night, while those who withdrew to rest started 
from their slumbers at the least noise, supposing it to be 
the war-cry of the Moslem and that the enemy was at 
the gates. 

Nor was the alarm less that was felt by the Moriscoes 
in the city, as it was certainly better founded, — for the 
Moriscoes were the weaker party of the two. They 
knew the apprehensions entertained of them by the 
Christians, and that when men have the power to 
relieve themselves of their fears they are not apt to be 
very scrupulous as to the means of doing so. They 
were afraid to venture into the streets by day, and at 
night they barricaded their houses as in a time of siege.' 
They well knew that a single act of imprudence on 
their part, or even the merest accident, might bring the 
Spaniards upon them and lead to a general massacre. 
They were like the traveller who sees the avalanche 
trembling above him, which the least jar of the ele- 
ments, or his own unwary movements, may dislodge 
from its slippery basis and bring down in ruin on his 
head. Thus the two races, inhabitants of the same 
city, were like two hostile camps, looking on each other 
with watchful and malignant eyes and ready at any 
moment to come into deadly conflict. 

In this state of things, the Moriscoes, anxious to allay 

the apprehensions of the Spaniards, were profuse in 

• Circourt, Hist, des Arabes d'Bspagne, tom. ii. p. 330. 



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MUSTEK OF TSOOPS. 



57 



their professions of loyalty and in their assurances 
that there was neither concert nor sympathy between 
them and their countrymen in the Alpujarras. The 
government, to give still greater confidence to the 
Christians, freely distributed arms among them, thus 
enabling them, as far as possible, to provide for their 
own security. The inhabitants enrolled themselves in 
companies. The citiien was speedily converted into 
the soldier ; and every man, of whatever trade or pro- 
fession, — the mechanic, the merchant, the lawyer,— 
took his turn of military service. Even the advocates, 
when attending the courts of justice, appeared with 
their weapons by their side.' 

But what contributed above all to revive the public 
coniidence was the care of the government to strengthen 
the garrison in the Alhambra by the addition of five 
hundred regular troops. When, by these various means, 
the marquis of Mondcjar saw that tranquillity was 
restored to the capital, he bestowed all his thoughts on 
an expedition into the Alpujarras, desirous to crush the 
insurrection in its bud, and to rescue the unfortunate 
captives, whose fate there excited the most dismal appre- 
hensions among their friends and relatives in Granada. 
He sent forth his summons accordingly to the great 
lords and the cities of Andalusia to furnish him at once 
with their contingents for carrying on the war. The 
feudal principle still obtained in this quarter, requiring 

1 " En un punto m mudaron lodos los oficios y tratos en soidadesca, 
tento que los relalores, leereUiios, letrados, procuradores de la Audi- 
enda enlraban con espadas en los e^trados, y no deiaban de parescel 
nvf bien en aquella coyuiKuta." Mormol, Rebelion de C 
torn. 1. p. 3se. 



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58 REBELLION OF THE MORtSCOES. 

the several towns to do military service for their pos- 
sessions, by mainlaining, when called upon, a certain 
number of troops in tiie field, at their own expense for 
three months, and at the joint expense of themselves 
and the government for six months longer.* The sys- 
tem worked well enough in those ancient times when a 
season rarely passed without a foray against the Moslems. 
But since the fall of Granada a long period of inactivity 
had followed, and the citizen, rarely summoned to the' 
field, had lost all the essential attributes of the soldier. 
The usual term of service was too short to supply the 
experience and the discipline which he needed ; and, 
far from entering on a campaign with the patriotic or 
the chivalrous feeling that gives dignity to the profes- 
sion of arms, he brought with him the mercenary spirit 
of a trader, intent only on his p>ersonal gains, and eager, 
as soon as he had enriched himself by a lucky foray or 
the saclc of some ill-fated city, to return home, and 
give place to others, as inexperienced and possessed 
of as little subordination as himself.' 

But, however deficient this civic mtlitia might be in 
tactics, the men were well provided with arms and mil- 
itary accoutrements ; and, as the motley array of troops 
passed over the vega, they made a gallant show, with 
their gay uniforms and bright weapons glancing in the 

• " SeryiHD Ird mesei pagsidos por sus pueblo9 enteramente. i sell 
meses adelanle pagavan los pueblos la mitad. 1 otia mitad A Rei." 
Mendoia, Guerra de Granada, p. 53. 

t Mendoza, with a few vigorous touches, has sketched, or ralher 
•culptured in bold relief, the rude ajid rapacious chaiacter of ths 
Andalusian soldiery; " Mai pagada i por esto no bien disciplinada . 
manlenidd de) robo. i alrueco de alcaniar o conservor este muchi 
Ubenad, poca verguenia. i menos honra." Ibid., p. 103. 



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MUSTER OF TROOPS. ^^■ 

son, while they proudly displayed the ancient banners 
of their cities, which had waved over many a field of 
battle against the infidel.' 

But no part of the warlike spectacle was so brilliant 
as that aiforded by the chivalry of the country, — the 
nobles and cavaliers, who, with their retainers and 
household troops, had taken the field with as much 
alacrity on the present occasion as their fathers had 
ever shown when roused by the cry that the enemy was 
over the borders.' They were much inferior in num- 
bers to the militia of the towns. But inferiority of 
numbers was more than compensated by excellence of 
discipline, by their perfect appointments, and by that 
chivalrous feeling which made them discard every mer- 
cenary consideration in the pursuit of glory. Such was 
the feeling of Luis Paer de Castillego, the ancient 
r^dor of C6rdova. When offered an independent 
command, with the emoluments annexed to it, he 
proudly replied, " I want neither rank nor pay. I, my 
sons, my kindred, my whole house, will always be found 
ready to serve our God and our king. It is the title 
by which we hold our inheritance and our patent of 
nobility."* 

* " Toda gente hidda j triea urcoda i punto de g;aerra, qoe deito 
tEpicwnUban la pompa y nobleia. de sus ciudado." Maimol, R*- 
1, torn. i. p. 396. 



f ni etuncUrte dondo." 

HLu, Gucnu it Gnmdi, us. fi. p. 61. 
■ Grconrt. Hist, da Arabo d'Espagne, torn. ii. p. 336. — SeriDe 
■lone (urnished two Ihousaud iroops, wilh one of Uie moM iUuMnow 



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ffo REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

With such loyal and high-mettled cavaliers to support 
him, Mondejar could not feel doubtful of the success 
of his arms. They had, however, already met with 
one reverse ; and he received tidings that his advance* 
guard, sent to occupy a strong pass that led into the 
mount^ns, had been driven from its position and had 
sustained something like a defeat. This would have 
been still more decisive had it not been for the courage 
of certain ecclesiastics, eight in. number, — four of them 
Franciscans and four of the Society of Jesus, — who, as 
the troops gave way, threw themselves into the thick 
of the fight and by their example shamed the soldiers 
into making a more determined resistance. The pres- 
ent war took the form of a religious war ; and many a 
valiant churchman, armed with sword and crucifix, bore 
his part in it as in a crusade. 

Hastening his preparations, the captain-general, 
without waiting for further reinforcements, marched 
out of Granada on the second of January, 1569, at 
the head of a small body, which did not exceed in all 
two thousand foot and four hundred horse. He was 
Speedily joined by levies from the neighboring towns, 
— from Jaen, Loja, Alhama, Antequera, and other 
places, — which in a few days swelled his little army to 
double its original size. The capital he left in the 
hands of his son, the count of Tendilla, a man of less 
discretion than his lather, of a sterner and more impa- 
ticnt temper, and one who had little sympathy for the 
Morisco. By his directions, the peasantry of the vega 

cavaliers of the city nl their head. They did not amve, however, UU 
■ later period of ibe war. See ZuBiga, AniuUes de Sevilla (Madrid 
1*77, (ul-), p. S33. 



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IHONDEJAR TAKES Tilt FIELD. 6i 

were required to supply the array with twenty thousand 
pounds of bread daily.' The additional troops stationed 
in the city, as well as those who met there, as in a place 
of rendezvous, on their way to the sierra, were all 
quartered on the inhabitants of the Albaicin, where 
they freely indulged in the usual habits of nulitary 
license. The Moriscoes still retained much of that 
jealous sensibility which leads the natives of the East 
to seclude their wives and daughters from the eye of 
the stranger. It was in vain, however, that they urged 
their complaints in the most respectful and deprecatory 
terms before the governor. The haughty Spaniard only 
answered them with a stern rebuke, which made the 
Moriscoes too late repent that they had not profited by 
the opportunity offered them by Aben-Farax of regain- 
ing their independence." 

Leaving Granada, the captain -general took the most 
direct route, leading along the western slant of the 
Sierra Nevada, that mountain -range which, with its 
frosty peaks glistening in the sun like palisades of 
silver, fences round the city on the south, and screens 
it in the summer from the scorching winds of Africa. 
Thence he rapidly descended into the beautiful vale 
of Lecrin, which spreads out, like a gay carpet em- 
broidered with many a wild flower, to the verge of the 
Alpujarras. It was now, however, the dead of winter, 

* '* Repartid los lugarea de la vega en siete partidos, y mand6le3, 
qur cada una luviese cuidado de llevar dici mil paD« aniasados de d 
dos libras al campo el dia que le tocase de la semana." Marmol, 
Rebelion de Granada, torn. i. p. 404. 

•B ■• ^3s<atsXK negociotan adelanle, quemucbos Moriscos afrentadoa 
T gaxtados se orrepintieron, par no haber toniado La* annas quando 
Abeobm los llamaba." ll»d., p. 407. 

Philip.— Vol. III. 6 



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63 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

when [he bright coloring of the landscape, even in this 
favored region, watered as it was by numerous fountains 
and running streams, had faded into the sombre tinta 
more in harmony with the rude scenes on which the 
Spaniards were about to enter. 

Halting a night at Padut to refresh his troops, 
Mondejar pressed forward to Durcal, which he reached 
barely in time to save his advance-guard from a more 
shameful discomfiture than it had before experienced ; 
for the enemy, pressing it on all sides, was in possession 
of the principal avenues to the town. On the approach 
of the main body of the Spaniards, however, he made 
a hasty retreat and established himself in a strong posi- 
tion at the pass of Tablate. The place was defended 
by a barranca, or ravine, not formidable from its width, 
but its rocky sides swept sheer down to a depth that 
made the brain of the traveller giddy as he looked into 
the frightful abyss. The chasm extended at least eight 
leagues in length, thus serving, like a gigantic ditch 
scooped out by the hand of Nature, to afford protection 
to the beautiful valley against the inroads of the fierce 
tribes of the mountains. 

Across this gulf a frail wooden bridge had been 
constructed, forming the only means of access from 
this quarter to the country of the Alpujarras. But this 
Structure was now nearly demolished by the Moriscoes, 
who had taken up the floor and removed most of the 
supports, till the passage of the tottering fabric could 
not safely be attempted by a single individual, much 
less by an army." That they did not destroy the 



t,CoogIf 



BOLD PASSAGE AT TABLATE. fij 

bridge altogether, probably arose from their desire to 
re-establish, as soon as possible, their communications 
with their countrymen in the valley. 

Meanwhile the Moslems had taken up a position 
which commanded the farther end of the bridge, 
where they calmly awaited the approach of the Span- 
iards. Their army, which greatly fluctuated in its 
numbers at different periods of the campaign, was a 
miscellaneous body, ill disciplined and worse armed. 
Some of the men carried fire-arms, some cross-bows ; 
others had only slings or javelins, or even shari>-pointed 
st^es, — any weapon. In short, however rude, which 
they had contrived to secrete from the Spanish officials 
charged with enforcing the laws for disarming the 
Moriscoes. But they were a bold and independent 
race, inured to a life of peril and privation; and, 
however inferior to the Christians in other respects, 
they had one obvious advantage in their familiarity 
with the mountain -wilds in which they had been 
nurtured from infancy. 

As the Spaniards approached the ravine, they were 
saluted by the enemy, from the other side, with a 
shower of balls, stones, and arrows, which, tailing at 
random, did little mischief. But as soon as the 
columns of the Christians reached the brow of the 
barranca and formed into line, they opened a much 
more effective fire on their adversaries; and when the 
heavy guns with which Mendoza was provided were got 
into position, they did such execution on the enemy 
that he thought it prudent to abandon the bridge and 

que si caigose mas de una peisona, fiiese abaxo." Marmol, Rebelioo 
de Gnmada, turn. i. p. 409. 



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64 KEBELLION OF THE MOR/SCOES. 

take post behind a rising ground, which screened liim 
from the fire. 

All thoughts were now turned on the mode of crosa- 
ing the ravine ; and many a look of blank dismay was 
turned on the dilapidated bridge, which, like a spider's 
web, trembling in every breeze, was stretched across , 
the formidable chasm. No one was bold enough to 
venture on this pass of peril. At length a Franciscan 
monk, named Christoval de Molina, offered himself for 
the emprise. It was again an ecclesiastic who was to 
lead the way in the path of danger. Slinging his 
shield across his back, with his robe tucked closely 
around him, grasping a crucifix in his left hand, and 
with his right brandishing his sword, the valiant friar 
set his foot upon the bridge." All eyes were fastened 
upon him, as, invoking the name of Jesus, he went 
courageously but cautiously forward, picking his way 
along the skeleton fabric, which trembled under hia 
weight, as if about to fall in pieces and precipitate him 
into the gulf below. But he was not so to perish ; and 
his safe arrival on the farther side was greeted with the 
shouts of the soldiery, who, ashamed of their hesitation, 
now pressed forward to follow in his footsteps. 

The first who ventured had the same good fortune 
as his predecessor. The second, missing his step or 
becoming dizzy, lost his foothold, and, tumbling head- 
long, was dashed to pieces on the bottom of the ravine. 

" '■ Mas un bendilo frayle de la orden del seraSco padre San Fraa- 
idsco, llamado (ny Cliristoval de Molina, con un crucifixo en la nuno 
itquletda, y la espada desnuda en la derecha. los habilM cogiiioa en 
la cinta, y una rodela echada i \as espaldas, invocando el podenMO 
sombre de Jesus, lleg6 al peligroso paso. y se melid delennioada- 
meote per iV Maimol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. i. p. ^lo. 



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RETREAT OF THE MORISCOES. 65 

One after another, the soldiers followed, and with fewer 
casualties than might have been expected from the 
perilous nature of the passage. During all this time 
they experienced no molestation from the enemy, 
intimidated, perhaps, by the unexpected audacity of 
the Spaniards, and not caring to come^tthin the range 
of the deadly fire of their artillery. No sooner had the 
arquebusiers crossed in sufficient strength than Mon- 
dejar, putting himself at their head, led them against 
the Moslems. He was received with a spirited volley, 
which had welinigh proved fatal to him ; and had it 
not been for his good cuirass, that turned the ball of an 
arquebuse, his campaign would have been brought to a 
close at its commencement. The skirmish lasted but 
a short time, as the Moriscoes, already disheartened by 
the success of the assailants, or in obedience to the 
plan of operations marked out by their leader, aban- 
doned their position and drew off rapidly towards the 
mountains. It was the intention of Aben-Humeya, as 
already noticed, to entangle his enemies in the defiles 
of the sierra, where, inde]>endently of the advantage he 
possessed from a knowledge of the country, the rugged 
character of the ground, he conceived, would make it 
impracticable for both cavalry and artillery, with 
neither of which he was provided."* 

■3 Marmol. Rebelion de Granada, lom. I. p. 410, et seq. — Mendoia, 
Guem de Granada., pp. 67. 68.— Herrera, Historia general, lom. i. 
P- 736. — Hila has conimemoraled the bold passage of Ihe bridee at 
Tablate in one of ihe romancis. or ball.ods, wilh which he has plenti- 
foUjr bespriokled the second volume of his work, and which present 
ft sorry contrast to the ballads in the preoeding volume. These, which 
form part of the popular minstrelsy of an earlier age. have all the 
iscineu and tlavor that belong to the native wild tlowcr of the soil. 



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66 REIELUON OF THE MORISCOES. 

The Spanish commander, resuming his former station, 
employed the night in restoring the bridge, od which 
his men labored to such purpose that by morning it was 
In a condition for both his horse and his heavy guns to 
cross in safety. Meanwhile he received tidings that a 
body of a hundred and eighty Spaniards, in the neigh- 
boring town of Orgiba, who had thrown themselvei 
into the tower of the church on the breaking out of 
the insurrection, were still holding their position, and 
anxiously looking for succor from their countrymen. 
Pushing forward, therefore, without loss of time, he 
resumed his march across the valley, which was here 
defended on either side by rugged hills, that, growing 
bolder as he advanced, announced his entrance into 
the gorges of the Alpujarras, The weather was tem- 
pestuous. The roads were rendered worse than usual 
by the heavy rains and by the torrents that descended 
from the hills. The Spaniards, moreover, suffered 
much from straggling parties of the enemy, who had 
possession of the heights, whence they rolled down 
huge rocks and hurled missiles of every kind on the 
heads of the invaders. To rid himself of this annoy- 
ance, Mondejar ordered detachments of horse — one of 
them under the command of his son, Don Antonio de 
Mendoza — to scour the crests of the hills and dislodge 
the skirmishers. Pioneers were sent in advance, to 
level the ground and render it practicable for the 
cavalry. The service was admirably performed ; and 

The tiallads in the second volume are probably the work of HitB 
himself, — poor imitations of the aniique, and proving Ibat, if bis lich 
•nd rediinduil piose is Bidu to poetr;. his poelij Is sliil nearer alllNl 



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RETREAT OF THE MORISCOES. 67 

the mountaineers, little acquainted with the horse, 
which they seem to have held in as much terror as did 
the ancient Mexicans, were so astounded by seeing the 
light-footed Andalusian steed scaling the rough sides 
of the sierra, along paths where the sportsman would 
hardly venture, that, without waiting for the charge, 
they speedily quitted the ground and fell back on thr 
main body of their army. 

This was posted at Lanjaron, a place but a few miles 
off, where the Moriscoes had profited by a gentle emi- 
nence tliat commanded a narrow defile, to throw up a 
breastwork of stone and earth, behind which they were 
intrenched, prepared, as it would seem, to give battle 
to the Spaniards. 

The daylight had begun to fade as the latter drew 
near the enemy's encampment; and, as he was un- 
acquainted with the ground, Mondejar resolved to 
postpone his attack till the following morning. The 
night set in dark and threatening. But a hundred 
watchtires blazing on the hill-tops illumined the sky 
and sent a feeble radiance into the gloom of the valley. 
All night long the wild notes of the musical instru- 
ments peculiar to the Moors, mingling with their shrill 
war-cries, sounded in the ears of the Christians, keep- 
ing them under arms and apprehensive every moment 
of an attack." But a night-attack was contrary to the 
usual tactics of the Moors. Nor, as it appeared, did 

*• " Estuvo alii aquella noche i. vista de los enemigos, que leniendo 
ocupado el paso con giandes fucgos por aquellos cerroa, no bacian 
SJDO tocar siu atabalejos, duliaynas y labecas, hadeDdo algaiaras 
para atemoriiar nuestios Qiristianos, que con grandisimo ieca[o eslu- 
¥ieron todos con las armas en las manos." Marmol, RetieLion da 
Oiunada. lorn i. p. 413. 



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68 REBELLION OF THE MORISlO^S. 

they iiitead to join battle with the Spaniards at all in 
this place. At least, if such had been their design, 
they changed it. For at break of day, to the surprise 
of the Spaniards, no vestige was to be seen of the 
Moriscoes, who, abandoning their position, had taken 
flight, like their own birds of .prey, into the depths cf 
the mountains. 

Mondejar, not sorry to be spared the delay which 
an encounter must have caused him at a time when 
every moment was so precious, now rapidly pushed 
forward to Orgiba, where he happily arrived in season 
to relieve the garrison, reduced almost to the last ex- 
tremity, and to put to flight the rabble who besieged it. 

In the fulness of their hearts, and with the tears 
streaming from their eyes, the poor prisoners came 
forth from their fortress to embrace tlie deliverers who 
had rescued them from the most terrible of deaths. 
Their apprehensions of such a fate had alone nerved 
their souls to so long and heroic a resistance. Yet 
they must have sunk ere this from famine, had it not 
been for their politic precaution of taking with them 
into the tower several of the Morisco children, whose 
parents secretly supplied them with food, which served 
as the means of subsistence — scanty though it was — ■ 
for the garrison. But, as the latter came forth into view, 
their wasted forms and famine-stricken visages told a 
tale of woe that would have softened a heart of flint."* 

The situation of Orgiba pointed it out as suitable for 



» Mamol, Rebelion de Granada, )om. 


. p. 4'4.— Hemra. Hi»lori« 


genetal, lom. i. p. 737.— Bleda, Cronica d 


Espaaa, p. 684.— Mendoia, 


Uuerni de Granada, pp. 69, 70. — Ferrer 


li, Hisl, d'Espagne, loni. 1, 


p. 17. 





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RETREAT OF THE MOE/SCOES. 69 

a fortified post, to cover the retreat of the army, if 
necessary, and to protect the convoys of supplies to be 
regularly forwarded from Granada. Leaving a small 
garrison there, the captain-general, without longer de- 
lay, resumed his pursuit of the enemy, 

Aben-Humeya had retreated into Poqueira, a rugged 
district of the Alpujarras. Here he had posted him- 
self, with an army amounting to more than double its 
former numbers, at the extremity of a dangerous defile, 
called the Pass of Alfajarali. Behind lay the town of 
Bubion, the capital of the district, in which, consider- 
ing it as a place of safety, many of the wealthier Mo- 
riscoes had deposited their women and their treasures. 

Mondejar's line of march now took him into the 
heart of the wildest regions of the Alpujarras, where 
the scenery assumed a character of sublimity very dif- 
ferent from what he had met with in the lower levels 
of the country. Here mountain rose beyond mountain, 
till their hoary heads, soaring above the clouds, en- 
tered far into the region of eternal snow. The scene 
was as gloomy as it was grand. Instead of the wide- 
spreading woods that usually hang round the skirts of 
lofty mountains, covering up their nakedness from the 
eye, nothing here was to be seen but masses of shat- 
tered rock, black as if scathed by volcanic fires, and 
heaped one upon another in a sort of wild confusion, 
as if some tremendous convulsion of nature had torn 
the hills from their foundations and thrown them into 
primitive chaos. Yet the industry of the Moriscoes 
^ad contrived to relieve the savage features of the 
landscape, by scooping out terraces wherever the rocky 
soil allowed it, and raising there the vine and othei 



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7© REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

plants, in bright patches of variegated culture, that 
liung like a garland round the gaunt and swarthy 
sierra. 

The temperature was now greatly changed from 
what the army had experienced in the valley. The 
wind, sweeping down the icy sides of the mountains, 
found its way through the harness of the cavaliers and 
the light covering of the soldiers, benumbing their 
limbs and piercing them to the very bone. Great 
difficulty was experienced in dragging the cannon up 
the steep heights, and along roads and passes which, 
however easily traversed by the light-footed mountain- 
eer, were but ill suited to the movements of an army 
clad in the heavy panoply of war. 

The march was conducted in perfect order, the 
arquebusiers occupying the van, and the cavalry riding 
on either flank, while detachments of infantry, the 
main body of which occupied the centre, were thrown 
out to the right and left, on the higher grounds along 
the route of the army, to save it from annoyance from 
the mountaineers. 

On the thirteenth of January, Mondejar entered the 
narrow defile of Alfajarali, at the farther end of which 
the motley multitude that had gathered round the 
standard of Aben-Humeya were already drawn up in 
battle-array. His right wing rested on the bold side 
of the sierra. The left was defended by a deep ravine, 
and his position was strengthened by more than one 
ambuscade, for which the nature of the ground was 
eminently favorable."* Indeed, ambushes and surprises 



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COMBA T AT ALFAyARALI. 71 

formed part of the regular strategy of the Moorish 
warrior, who lost heart if he foiled in these, — like the 
lion, who, if balked in the first spring upon his prey, 
is said rarely to attempt another. 

Putting these wily tactics into practice, the Morisco 
chief, as soon as the Spaniards were fairly entangled in 
the defile, without waiting for them to come into order 
of battle, gave the signal ; and his men, starting up 
from glen, thicket, and ravine, or bursting down the 
hill-sides like their own winter- torrents, fell at once 
on the Christians, — front, flank, and rear, — assailing 
them on every quarter." Astounded by the fiery sud- 
denness of the assault, the rear-guard retreated on the 
centre, while the arquebusiers in the van were thrown 
into still greater disorder. For a few moments it 
seemed as if the panic would become general. But 
the voice of the leader was heard above the tumult, 
and by his prompt and sagacious measures he fortu- 
nately succeeded in restoring order and reviving the 
confidence of his men. He detached one body of 
cavalry, under his son-in-law, to the support of the 
rear, and another to the front under the command of 
his son, Antonio de Mendoza. Both executed their 
commissions with spirit; and Mendoza, outstripping 
his companions in the haste with which he galloped to 
the front, threw himself into the thickest of tlie fight, 

O bondo del bamuico de mucho mayor numero de genie." Mendoia, 
Guerra de Granada, lorn, i. p. 71. 

T " Ellos quando pensaron que nuestra gente iva cansada acome- 
tieroa por la, frenie. por el coslado, i por la relaguardia, todo a un 
liempo ; de manera que quasi una liora se pele6 con ellos a todai 
panes i a las espatdas, no sin Igualdad I pelig;ro." Ibid., uti supn. 



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7a REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

where he was struck from his horse by a heavy stone, 
and was speedily surrounded by the enemy, from whose 
grasp he was with difficulty, and not till after much 
hard fighting, rescued by his companions. His friend, 
Don Alonso Portocarrero, the scion of a noble house 
in Andalitsia, whose sons had always claimed the front 
of battle against the infidel, was twice wounded by 
poisoned arrows; for the Moors of the Alpujarras 
tipped their weapons with a deadly poison Jistilled 
from a weed that grew wild among the mountains." 

A fierce struggle now ensued. For the Morisco was 
spurred on by hate and the recollection of a thousand 
wrongs. Ill provided with weapons for attack, and 
destitute of defensive armor, he exposed himself to the 
hottest of his enemy's fire, and endeavored to drag the 
horsemen from their saddles, while stones and arrows, 
with which some musket-balls were intermingled, fell 
like rain on the well-tempered harness of the Andalu- 
sian knights. The latter, now fully roused, plunged 
boldly into the thickest of the Moorish multitude, 
trampling them under foot, and hewing them down 
right and left, with their sharp blades. The arque- 
busiers, at the same time, delivered a well-directed fire 
on the flank of the Moriscoes, who, after a brave 
struggle of an hour's duration, in which they were 
baffled on every quarter, quitted the field, covered 

'■ This poison was eiliacted fiom the oconile, or wolf'i-bane. Ihil 

giew rife among the Alpujarras. It was of so tnalignonl a nalure 
thai the historian assures us that if a drop mingled with the blood 
dowing from a wound the virus would ascend the stream and diffusa 
itself over the whole system I Quince juice was said to furnish th« 
beat antidote. Mendoia, Guerta de Granada, torn. i. pp. 73, 74. 



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COMBAT AT ALFAJARALI. 73 

vith their slain, as precipitately as they had entered it, 
and, vanishing among the mountaiaE, were soon fai 
beyond pursuit," 

From the field of battle Mondejar marched at once 
upon Bubion, the capital of the district, now left 
wholly unprotected by the Moslems. Yet many of 
their wives and daughters remained in it; and what 
rejoiced the heart of Mondejar more than all was the 
liberation of a hundred and eighty Christian women, 
who came forth, frantic with joy and gratitude, to 
embrace the luiees of their deliverers. They had many 
a tale of horror to tell their countrymen, who had now 
rescued them from a fate worse than that of death itself; 
for arrangements had been made, it was said, to send 
away those whose persons offered the greatest attrac- 
tions, to swell the harems of the fierce Barbary princes 
in alliance with the Moriscoes. The town afforded a 
rich booty to the victorious troops, in gold, silver, and 
jewels, together with the finest stuffs, especially of silk, 
for the manufacture of which the people of the country 
were celebrated. As the Spanish commander, unwilling 
to be encumbered with unnecessary baggage, had made 
no provision for transporting the more bulky articles, 
the greater part of them, in the usual exterminating 
spirit of war, was consigned to the flames." The 

■» Mendoia, Guerra de Granada, torn, i, pp. 71-74. — Cabrera, Filipo 
Segundo. p. 554. — Marmol. Rebelion de Granada, lom. i. pp. 416- 
41S. — Herrera, Historia general. 10m. i. p. 737. — Bleda, Croniea d* 
Bspafla. p. 6S4. 

" " Mas la priesa de caminar en siguimiento de Loa enemigos, i la 
blla de bagages ea que la cargar i genie con que aseguralla, fue causa 
de qucmar la mayor pane, porque ellos no se aprovechasen." Men- 
doia, Guerra de Granada, torn. i. p, 75. 
Philip.— Vol.111.— t> 7 



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74 REBELLION OF THE AfORISCOES. 

soldiers would willingly have appropriated to them- 
selves the Moorish women whom they found in the 
place, regarding them as the spoils of victory; but 
the marquis, greatly to the disgust of bis followers, 
humanely interfered for their protection. 

Mondejar now learned that Aben-Humeya, gath> 
sring the wreck of his forces about him, had taken 
the route to Jubfles, — a place situated in the wildest 
part of the country, where there was a fortress of 
much strength, in which he proposed to make a final 
stand against his enemies. Desirous to follow up thr 
blow before the enemy had time to recover from its 
effects, Mondejar resumed his march. He had not 
advanced many leagues before he reached Pitres, the 
principal town in the district of Ferreiras. It was a 
place of some importance, and was rich in the com- 
modities usually found in the great Moorish towns, 
where the more wealthy of the inhabitants rivalled 
their brethren of Granada in their taste for sump- 
tuous dress and in the costly decorations of their 
houses. 

The conquerors had here the satisfaction of releasing 
d hundred and fifty of their poor countrywomen from 
the captivity in which they had been held, after wit- 
nessing the massacre of their friends and relatives. 
The place was given up to pillage; but the marquis, 
true to his principles, notwithstanding the murmurs, 
and even menaces, of his soldiers, would allow no 
injury to be done to the Moorish women who remained 
in it. In this he acted in obedience to the dictates of 
sound policy, no less than of humanity, which indeed, 
happily for mankind, can never be dissevered from 



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PERILOUS MARCH. fg 

each other. He had no desire to push the war to 
extremities, or to exterminate a race whose ingenuity 
and industry were a fruitful source of revenue to the 
country. He wished, therefore, to leave the door of 
reconciliation still open; and, while he carried fire 
and sword into the enemy's territory, he held out the 
prospect of grace to those who were willing to submit 
and return to their allegiance. 

ITic route of the army lay through a wild and deso- 
late region, which, from its great elevation, was cool 
even in midsummer, and which now, in the month of 
January, wore the dreary aspect of a polar winter. 
The snow, which never melted on the highest peaks of 
the mountains, lay heavily on thetr broad shoulders, 
and, sweeping far down their sides, covered up the 
path of the Spaniards. It was with no little difficulty 
that they could find a practicable passage, especially 
for the train of heavy guns, which were dragged along 
with incredible toil by the united efforts of men and 
horses. The soldiers, born and bred in the sunny 
plains of Andalusia, were but ill provided against an 
intensity of cold of which they had never formed a 
conception. The hands and feet of many were frozen. 
Others, benumbed, and exhausted by excessive toil, 
straggled in the rear, and sank down in the snow- 
drifts, or disappeared in the treacherous ravines and 
crevices, which, under their glittering mantle, lay 
concealed from the eye. It fared still worse with the 
Horiscoes, especially with the women and children, 
who, after, hanging on the skirts of the retreating 
army, had, the better to elude pursuit, scaled the more 
inaccessible parts of the mountains, wliere, taking 



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76 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOBS. 

refuge in caverns, they perished, in great numbers, of 
cold and hunger." 

Meanwhile, Aben-Humeya, disheartened by his late 
reverses, felt too little confidence in the strength of hif 
present position to abide there the assault of the Span- 
iards. Quitting the place, therefore, and taking with 
liim his women and effects, he directed his course by 
rapid marches towards Patema, his principal residence, 
which had the advantage, by its neighborhood to the 
Sierra Nevada, of affording him, if necessary, the 
means of escaping into its wild and mysterious re- 
cesses, where none but a native would care to follow 
him. He left in the castle of Jubiles a great number 
of Morisco women, who had accompanied the army in 
its retreat, and three hundred men, who, from age or 
infirmity, would be likely to embarrass his movements. 

On reaching Jublles, therefore, the Spanish general 
met with no resistance from the helpless garrison who 
occupied the fortress, which, moreover, contained a 
rich booty in gold, pearls, and precious stones, to 
gratify the cupidity of the soldiers." Yet their discon- 
tent was expressed in more audacious terms than usual 
at the protection afforded by their commander to the 
Morisco women, of whom there were more than tvra 
thousand in the place. Among the women found there 
was also a good number of Christian captives, who 
roused the fierce passions of their countrymen by their 

> " Loi Moral tomaron to alto de U lUrrst. y no paiaroa htuta 
iDelerae en la nieve, donde perecieron cantidad de mugerca y da 
crianira de frio.'' Marmol. Rebelion de Granada, turn. i. p. 437. 

*■ " El Marques tea di6 i saco todo el mueble. en que babia ricai 
cosai deseda, oro. plala y aljofar, de que cupo la mejory mayoi parU 
A loi que hatdaa ido detanie." Ibid., p. 444, 



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AfASSACRE AT JUBILES. jj 

pileotis recital of the horrors they had witnessed, of the 
butchery of fathers, husbands, and brothers, and of the 
persecutions to which they had themselves been sub- 
jected in order to convert them to Islatnism. They 
besought the captain -general to take pity on their 
EufTerings, and to avenge their wrongs by putting every 
man and woman found in the place to the sword. ^ It 
is evident that, however prepared they may have been 
to accept the crown of martyrdom rather than abjure 
their faith, they gave little heed to the noblest of its 
precepts, which enjoined the forgiveness of their ene- 
mies. In this respect Mondejar proved himself de- 
cidedly the better Christian ; for while he listened with 
commiseration to their tale of woe, and did all he 
could to comfort them in their affliction," he would 
not abandon the protection of his captives, male or 
female, nor resign them to the brutality of his soldiers. 

He provided for their safety during the night by 
allowing them to occupy the church. But as this 
would not accommodate more than a thousand per 
sons, the remainder, including all the men, were 
quartered in an open square in the neighborhood of 
the building. The Spanish troops encamped at no 
great distance from the spot. 

In the course of the night one of the soldiers found 
his way into the quarters of the captives and attempted 
to take some freedoms with a Morisco maiden. It so 
happened that her lover, disguised in woman's attire, 

* " No tomen. seflores, i vida homb 
ges. que urn nialos ban sido. y tamo n 
Rebelion de Granada. lom. i. p. 440. 

M " El Marques ae enlemeci^ de ver aqucllas pobrei mugcres (an 
laslimodas, j coiuolandolai lo mejor que pudo." etc. Ibid, ubi jupn. 



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j8 REBELI ION OF THE MORISCOES. 

was at her side, having remained with her for her 
protection. His Moorish blood fired at the insult, 
and he resented it by striking his poniard into the 
body of the Spaniard. The cry of the latter soon 
roused his comrades. Rushing to the place, they fell 
on the young Morisco, who, now brandishing a sword 
which he had snatched from the disabled man, laid 
about him so valiantly that several others were wounded. 
The cry rose that there were armed men, disguised aa 
women, among the prisoners. More soldiers poured 
in to *he support of their comrades, and fell with fury 
on their helpless victims. The uproar was universal. 
On the one side might be heard moans and petitions 
for mercy ; on the other, brutal imprecations, followed 
by deadly blows, that showed how little the prayers for 
mercy had availed. The hearts of the soldiers were 
harder than the steel with which they struck ; for they 
called to mind the cruelties inflicted on their own 
countrymen by the Moriscoes, Striking to the right 
and left, they hewed down men and women indiscrim- 
inately, — both equally defenceless. In their blind fury 
they even wounded one another; for it was not easy to 
discern friend from foe in the obscurity, in which little 
light was to be had, says the chronicler, except such as 
came from the sparks of clashing steel or the flash of 
fire-arms.'' It was in vain that the officers endeavored 
to call off the men from their work of butchery. Th 

■S '■ Hubo muchos soldados heridos, tos mas que se herian unos 
Otn», entendiendo las que venian de Tuera. que los que manillabaD 
con las espadas eian Moras, porque solamente les alumbraba el cen- 
tellear del acero, y el relampaguear de la polvora de los aioabuces el 
la tenebrosa eseuridatl de la noche." Marmol, Rebelion de Granada 
•oni. 1. p. 445. 



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THE LIBERATED CHRISTIANS. 



79 



nut temper of the Andalusian was fully loused , aiid it 
would have been as easy to stop the explosion of the 
mine when the train has been fired, as to stay his fury. 
It was not till the morning light showed the pavement 
swimming in gore, and the corpses of the helpless vic- 
tims lying in heaps on one another, that his appetite 
for blood was satisfied. Great numbers of the women, 
and nearly all the men, perished io this massacre.^ 
Those in the church succeeded in making fast the 
doors and thus excluding their enemies, who made 
repeated efforts to enter the building. The marquis 
of Mondejar, indignant at this inhuman outrage per- 
petrated by his followers, and at their flagrant disobe- 
dience of orders, caused an inquiry into the affair to 
be instantly made ; and the execution of three of the 
most guilty proved a salutary warning to the Andalusian 
soldier that there were limits beyond which it was not 
safe to try the patience of his commander." 

Before leaving Jubiles, Mondejar sent off to Gra- 
nada, under a strong escort, the Christian captives 
who, since their liberation, had remained with the 
army. There were eight hundred of them, women 
and children, — a helpless multitude, whose wants were 
to be provided for, and whose presence could not 
fail greatly to embarrass his movements. They were 
obliged to perform that long and wearisome journey 

^ " De los Moriscos quasi ninguno quedd vivo, de las Moriscat 
buvo muchas muertas, de loa nuestros aigunoa heridoa, que con I& 

Guerra de Granada, p. 77. 

1 1bid., ubi supra. — Bleda, Cronica de Espafla, p. 685. — Herrera, 
Hisloria general, lom. I. p. 737. — Marmol, Rebelion de Gnmada 
lom. i. p. 441, el seq.— Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, p. 558. 



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8o REBELLION OF TUB MORISCOES. 

across the mountains on foot, as there were no means 
of transportation. And piteous was the spectacle which 
they presented when they reached the capital. As the 
way-worn wanderers entered by the gate of Bib-arran- 
bla, the citizens came forth in crowds to welcome 
them. A body of cavalry was in the van, — each of 
the troopers holding one or two children on the saddle 
before him, with sometimes a third on the crupper 
clinging to his back. The infantry brought up the 
rear ; while the centre of the procession was occupied 
by the women, — a forlorn and melancholy band, with 
their heads undefended by aiiy covering from the 
weather j their hair, bleached by the winter's tempests, 
streaming wildly over their shoulders; their clothes 
scanty, tattered, and soiled with travel ; without stock- 
ings, without shoes, to protect their feet against the 
cold and flinty roads ; while in the lines traced upon 
their countenances the dullest eye might read the story 
of their unparalleled sufferings. Many of the company 
were persons who, unaccustomed to toil, and delicately 
nurtured, were but poorly prepared for the trials and 
privations of every kind to which they had been 
subjected.* 

As their friends and countrymen gathered round 
them, to testify their sympathy and listen to the story 
of their misfortunes, the voices of the poor wanderers 
were choked with sobs and lamentations. The grief 
was contagious ; and the sorrowing and sympathetic 

•* ■' Habia entre dlos muchas duefias nobles, apueslas ; hermosas 
doncellas, criadns con mucho tegalo. que iban desnud^ y descalca^. 
f tan mallratadas del trabajo del captiverio y del camino, que no solo 
quebraban los coraiones ^ los qne las conocian, mas aun d quien no 
^ babia vislo." Mannol Rebelion de Granada., torn. i. p. 44S. 



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THE LIBERATED CHRISTIANS 8i 

multitude accompanied the procession like a train of 
mourners to the monastery of Our Lady of Victory, in 
the opposite quarter of the city, where services were 
performed with much solemnity and thanks were offered 
up for their deliverance from captivity. From the 
church they proceeded to the Alhambra, where they 
were graciously received by the marchioness of Monde- 
jar, the wife of the captain -general, who did what she 
could to alleviate the miseries of their condition. Those 
who had friends and relations in the city found shelter 
in their houses ; while the rest were kindly welcomed 
by the archbishop of Granada, and by the charitable 
people of the town, who provided them with raiment 
and whatever was necessary for their comfort.* The 
Ktories which the fugitives had to tell of the horrid 
scenes they had witnessed in the Alpujarras roused a 
deeper feeling of hatred in the Spaniards towards the 
Moriscoes, that boded ill for the security of the in- 
habitants of the Albaicin. 

* " Y volviendo i. Us ctuas del Arzobispo, Us que tenian paHentes 
las llevaron 1 sui posadas, y las otras fueron hospedadai con caridad 
eatre la buena genie, jrdelimosnaM lea comprd de vesttryde caliar." 
Maimol, RebelioD de Granada, ubi supn. 



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CHAPTER IV. 

OP THE MORISCOE5. 

Sitnadon of Aben-Humejra. — Fate of the Mootlih Prtaoaen.— 
Slortnint! o( Gudjaios. — Escape of Aben-Mumejo. — OperaQou ol 

Los Velei.^^Iabal against Mondejar. — License of the Soldiers. — 
Massacre in Granada.— The Insunectioo rekindled. 

1569- 

Before the marquis of Mondejar quitted Jublles, he 
received a visit from seventeen of the principal Moris- 
coes. in that part of the country, who came to tender 
their submission, exculpating themselves, at the same 
time, from any share in the insurrection, and humbly 
suing for the captain -general's protection. This, agree- 
ably to his policy.'he promptly accorded, granting them 
a safe-conduct, with instructions to tell their country- 
men what he had done, and persuade them, if possible, 
to return to their allegiance, as the only way of averting 
the ruin that else would speedily overtake them. This 
act of clemency, so repugnant to the feelings of the 
Spaniards, was a new cause of disgust to his soldiers, 
who felt that the fair terms thus secured by the rebels 
were little better than a victory over themselves.' 

• " Los soldados no podian Uevar i paciencia. ver que so tratase de_ 
nedios con loi tebeldes ; y quando otro dia se supo que los admilia, 
fue tan gtande la irisleza en el campo. como si bubieran perdido la 
fomada." Marmol, Rebelioa de Granada, lom. i. p. 443. 
(82) 



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SITUATION or ARENIIUMEYA. S$ 

Vet ihe good effects of this policy were soon made 
visible when the marquis resumed his march. For, as 
his favorable dispositions became more generally known, 
numbers of the Moriscoes, and several places on the 
route, eagerly tendered their submission, imploring his 
mercy, and protection against his followers. 

Aben-Humeya, meanwhile, who lay at Patema, with 
his wives and his warriors gathered around, saw with 
dismay that his mountain -throne was fast sliding away 
from beneath him. The spirit of distrust and disaffec- 
tion had crept into his camp. It was divided into two 
parties. One of these, despairing of further resistance, 
would have come instantly to terms with the enemy. 
The other stiU adhered to a bolder policy ; but its 
leaders, if we may trust the Castilian writers, were less 
influenced by patriotic than by personal motives, being 
for the most part men who had borne so conspicuous a 
part in the insurrection that they could scarcely hope to 
be included in any amnesty granted by the Spaniards, 
Such, in particular, were the African adventurers, who 
had distinguished themselves above all others by their 
ferocious persecution of the Christians. They directed, 
at this time, the counsels of the Moorish prince, filling " 
his mind with suspicions of the loyalty of some of his 
followers, especially of the father of one of his wives, 
B person of much authority among the Moriscoes. To 
suspect and to slay were words of much the same import 
with Aben-Humeya. He sent for his relative, and, on 
his entering the apartment, caused him to be despatched 
before his eyes.' He would have followed this up by 
tbc murder of some others of the family, if they had 

• Uaimol. RebeliDD de Granada, torn. i. p. 455. 



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84 REBELLION OF THE MOklSCOES. 

'^not eluded his grasp; thus establishing his title to a 
descent from those despots of the East with whom the 
lives of their kindred were of as little account as the 
vermin in their path.' 

He was still at the bead of a numerous army. Its 
number, indeed, amounting to six thousand men, con- 
stituted its greatest strength ; for, without discipline, 
almost without arms, it was made up of such rude, 
incongruous materials, that, as he had already expe- 
rienced, it could never abide the shock of battle from 
the militia of Castile. The Moorish prince had other 
causes for discouragement, in the tidings he was hourly 
receiving of the defection of his subjects. The clem- 
ency shown by the conqueror was doing more for him 
than his arms, — as the snow which the blasts of winter 
have only bound more closely to the hill-side loosens 
its hold and falls away under the soft touch of spring. 
Notwithstanding his late display of audacity, the un- 
happy young man now lost all confidence in his own 
fortunes and in his followers. Sorely perplexed, he 
knew not where to turn. He had little of the con- 
stancy or courage of the patriot who has perilled his 
life in a great cause ; and he now had recourse to the 
same expedient which he had so lately punished with 
death in his father -in -law. 

He sent a message to the marquis of Mondejar, 
offering to surrender, and, if time were given, to per- 
suade his people to follow his example. Meanwhile, he 
I Abderrahman — or. u spelt by Gayangos. Abdu-r-rhatnin — the 
Pinl. the founder of the dynasty Trom which Aben-Humeya claimed 
bis descenl. look refuge in Spain from a bloody pereeculion, in which 
every member of his numerous family is said lu have perished by tha 



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SITUATION OF ABEN-UVMEYA. 85 

requested the Spanish commander to stay his inarch, 
and thus prevent a collision with his troops. Mon. 
dejar, though he would not consent to this, advanced 
more leisurely, while he opened a negotiation with his 
enemy. He had already come in sight of the rebel 
forces, when he consented, at the request of Aben- 
Humeya, to halt for a night in the neighboring village 
of IfSiza, in order to give time for a personal interview. 
This required the troops, some of whom had now ad- 
vanced within musket-range of the enemy, to fall back 
and take up ground in the rear of their present position. 
In executing this manceuvre they came almost in con 
tact with a detachment of the Moorish army, who, in 
their ignorance of its real object, regarding the move- 
ment as a hostile demonstration, sent a shower of 
arrows and other missiles among the Spaniards, which 
they returned with hearty good will by a volley of 
musketry. The engagement soon became generaU 
Aben-Humeya at the time was reading a letter, which 
he had just received from one of Mondejar's staff, 
arranging the place for the interview, when he was 
startled by the firing, and saw with consternation his 
own men warmly engaged with the enemy. Supposing 
he had been deceived by the Spaniards, he flung the 
letter on the ground, and, throwing himself into the 
saddle, without so much as attempting to rally his 
forces, which were now flying over the field in all 
directions, he took the road to the Sierra Nevada, 
followed by only five or six of his attendants.* His 

< " Y como vi6 que I03 Chiistianos ibun la ^erra aniba, y que loi 
tuyos hulao desvergoniadanienle, entendiendo que todo lo que Don 
Alonso Venegas Iralnbit era engaHo, echo lai cacUu en cl suelc. • 



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86 REBELLION OF THE MQRISCOES. 

horse was fleet, and he soon gained the defiles of the 
mountains. But he was hotly pursued ; and, thinking 
it safer to trust to himself than to his horse, he dis- 
mounted, cut the hamstrings of the animal to prevent 
his being of service to his pursuers, and disappeared 
in the obscure depths of the sierra, where it would have 
been fruitless to follow him. 

The rout of his army was complete ; and the victors 
might have inflicted an incalculable loss on the fugi- 
tives, had not the marquis of Mondejar called off his 
troops and put a stop to the work of death. He wished 
to keep open as widely as possible the door of recon- 
ciliation. His conduct, which was not understood 
and could not have been appreciated by his men, was 
stigmatized by them as treachery. They found some 
amends for their disappointment in the pillage of 
Paterna, the residence of Aben-Humeya, which, well 
provided with the costly finery so much loved by 
the Moriscoes, furnished a welcome booty to the 
conquerors.' 

Among the Moorish captives were Aben-Hiimeya's 
mother, two of his sisters, and one of his wives, to 
whom, as usual, Mondejar extended his protection. 

Yet the disposal of his prisoners was a subject of 
perplexity to the Spanish commander. His soldiers, 
as we have seen, would have settled it at once, had 
their captain consented, by appropriating them all aa 
Bubiendo k gran priesa en un caballo, dex6 su familia atras. y huyo 
tambien la vueltade la uerra." Matmol, Rebelion de Granada, torn, 

S Ibid., p. 4SB, et seq. — Ferreraa, Hist, d'&pagne, loni. x. pp. ag- 
31. — Mendoia, Guerra de Granada, pp. 80, 81. — Cabrera, Filip» 
Segundo, pp. 560, 561.— Hettera, Hisloria general, torn. i. p. 737, 



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FATE OF THE MOORISH PRISONERS. 87 

the Spoils of victory. There were many persons, 
higher in authority than these soldiers, who were of 
the same way of thinking on the subject with them. 
The question was one of sufficient importance to come 
before the government. Philip referred it to the coun- 
cil of state ; and, regarding it as a case of conscience, 
in which the interests of religion were concerned, he 
asked the opinion of the Royal Audience of Granada, 
over which Deza presided. The final decision was 
what might have been expected from tribunals with 
inquisitors at their head. The Moriscoes, men and 
women, were declared to have incurred by their rebel- 
lion the doom of slavery. What is more remarkable is 
the precedent cited for this judgment, it being no other 
than a decision of the Council of Toledo, as far back 
as the time of the Visigoths, when certain rebellious 
Jews were held to have forfeited their liberty by an act 
of rebellion.' The Morisco, it was said, should fare no 
better than the Jew, since he was not only, like him, a 
rebel and an infidel, but an apostate to boot. The 
decision, it was understood, was very satisfactory to 
Philip, who, however, " with the pious moderation that 
distinguished so just and considerate a prince," ' so far 
mitigated the severity of the sentence, in the pragmatic 
which he published, as to exempt from its operation 
boys under ten years of age and girls under eleven. 
These were to be placed in the care of responsible 
persons who would give them the benefits of a Chris- 

* The decision referred to was probably one in the last Couocil of 
roledo. A.D. 690, See Mariana, HIsl. de Espaila, torn, i. p. 45s. 

r I quote the words of Marmol ; " Con una moderacion piadosa, 
de que quiso usar como principe considerado y juslo." Rebelion 6a 



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88 REBELLION OF THE MvUli-CoES. 

tian education. Unhappily, there is reason to think 
that the good intentions of the goverament were not 
very conscientiously carried out in respect to this 
provision by those intrusted with the execution of it.' 

While the question was pending, Jubiles fell into the 
hands of the viqtors ; and Mondejar, not feeling him- 
self at liberty to release his female captives, of whom 
more than a thousand, bythis event, had come into 
his possession, delivered them in charge to three of the 
principal Moriscoes, to whom, it may be remembered, 
he had given letters of safe-conduct. They were 
allowed to restore the women to their families, ott 
condition that they should all be surrendered on the 
demand of the government. Such an act, it must be 
admitted, implies great confidence in the good faith 
of the Moslems, — a confidence fully justified by the 
result. When, in obedience to the pragmatic, they 
were claimed by the government, they were delivered 
up by their families, — with the exception of some who 
had died in the mean time, — and the greater part of 
them were sold by public auction in Granada.* 

The only place of any importance which now held 
out against Mondejar was Las Gu^jaras, situated in the 
plains of Salobrefia, in the direction of Velez Malaga. 
This was a rocky, precipitous hill, on the summit of 
which nature, with little assistance from art, had con- 
structed a sort of rude fortress. It was held by a fierce 
band of Moriscoes, who, descending from the heights, 

' Majmol, Rebelion de Granada, lom. i. p. 495. 

» Ibid., pp. 465, 498. — Mendoia says they were all returned. — "a 
ining never before seen, whether it arose from fear or obedience, or 
thai there was such an abundance of women that they were regarded 
ai Ultle better than household furniture." Guerra de Granada, p. 9& 



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STORMING OF CUAJARAS. 89 

swept over the phuns, carrying on devastating forays, 
that made them the terror of the surrounding country. 
Mondejar, moved by the complaints of the inhabitants, 
left Ugijar on the fifth of February, at the head of hia 
whole array, now much augmented by the arrival of 
recent levies, and marched rapidly on Gudjaras. He 
met with a more formidable resistance than he had 
expected. His first attempt to carry the place was 
repulsed with a heavy loss on the part of the assailants. 
The Moorish garrison, from its elevated position, poured 
a storm of missiles on their heads, and, what was worse, 
rolled down huge masses of rock, which, ploughing 
through the CastUian ranks, overthrew men and horses, 
and did as great execution as would have been done by 
artillery. Eight hundred Spaniards were left dead on 
the field ; and many a noble house in Andalusia had to 
go into mourning for that day's disaster. 

Mondejar, stung by this repulse, — the first reverse 
his arms had experienced, — determined to lead the 
attack in person on the following day. His approaches 
were made with greater caution than before; and, 
without much injury, he succeeded in bringing his 
arquebusiers on a higher level, where their fire swept 
the enemy's intrenchments and inflicted on him a 
terrible loss. Still, the sun went down, and the place 
bad not surrendered. But El Zamar, its brave de- 
fender, without ammunition, almost without arms, felt 
that there was no longer hope for his little garrison. 
Silently evacuating the place, therefore, at dead of 
night, the Moriscoes, among whom were both women 
and children, scrambled down the precipice with the 
fearlessness of the mountain-goat, and made theit 



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90 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



escape without attracting the notice of the Spaniards. 
They left behind only such as, from age or infirmity, 
were unable to follow them in their perilous descent. 

On the next day, when the Spanish general prepared 
to renew the assault, great was his astonishment to 
find that the enemy had vanished, except only a few 
wretched beings, incapable of making 'any resistance. 
All the evil passions of Mondejar's nature had been 
roused by the obstinate defence of the place and the 
lives it had cost him. In the heat of his wrath, he 
ordered the helpless garrison to be put to the sword. 
No prayer for mercy was heeded. No regard was had 
to age or to sex. All were cut down in the presence 
of the general, who is even said to have stimulated the 
faltering soldiers to go through with their bloody 
work.*" An act so hard to be reconciled with his 
previous conduct has been referred by some to the 
annoyance which he felt at being so frequently taxed 
with excessive lenity to the Moriscoes, an accusation 
which was carried, indeed, before the crown, and which 
the present occasion afforded him the means of effect- 
ually disproving. However this may be, the historian 
must lament the tarnished honor of a brave and gener- 
ous chief, whose character up to this time had been 
sullied by none of those acts of cruelty which dis- 
tinguished this sanguinary war." 

B " Fue tanta la. indignacion del Marques de Moiide)ar, que, tin 
perdonar £ ninguna edad ni sexo, inajid6 pasar d cuchillo hombres y 
museres. quantos babiaen el Fuerte* y en su presencia los hacia malat 
i, Ids BJabarderos de su guardia, que no ba^tabon los ruegos de lot 
caballeros y capilancs, ni las piadosas lagrlmas de las que pedian la 
miserable vida." Maniiol, Rebelion de Gmnada, torn. i. p. 493. 

■> Ibid., p. 4S1. et seq. — Meodoza, Guerra de Granada, pp. B5- 95. 



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ESCAPE OF ABENHUMEYA, 91 

But even this cruelty was surpassed by that of hia 
son, the count of Tendilla. El Zamar, the gallant 
defender of the fortress, wandered about among the 
crags with his little daughter, whom he carried in his 
arms. Famished and fainting from fatigue, he was at 
length overtaken by his enemies, and sent off as a 
prisoner to Granada, where the fierce Tendilla caused 
the flesh to be torn from his bones with red-hot pincers, 
and his mangled carcass, yet palpitating with life, to be 
afterwards quartered. The crime of El Zamar was that 
he had fought too bravely for the independence of his 
nation. 

Having razed the walls of Guijaras to the ground, 
Mondejar returned with his blood-stained laurels to his 
headquarters at Orgiba. Tower and town had gone 
down before him. On every side his arms had proved 
victorious. But one thing was wanting, — the capture 
of Aben-Humeya, the " little king" of the Alpujarras. 
So long as he lived, the insurrection, now smothered, 
might be rekindled at any time. He had taken refuge, 
it was known, in the wilds of the Sierra Nevada, where, 
as the captain -general wrote, he was wandering from 
rock to rock with only a handful of followers." Mon- 
— Ferreras, Hist d'Espagne, lorn. i. pp. 33-36.— Bleda, Cronica de 
Espalla, p. 68S, et seq. — Herrera. Hisloria general, torn, i. p. 738. — 
Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, p. 569.— The stomiing of Gudjaraa is a 
Eavorite theme wiih both chroniclers and bards. Among the latter 
Hita has not failed to hang his garland of verse on the tombs of 
more than one illustrious cavalier who perished in that bloody strife, 
and for whose loss " all the noble dames of Seville," as he tells us, 
'■wBnl into mourning." Guerras de Granada, torn. ii. pp. iia-ii8. 

■■ " Que no habia osado parat en la Alpuxarra, y con solos cincuenta 
A lesenla hombres, que le segutan, andabi huyendo de pcfla en peHa.' 
Uarmol. Rebelion de Gtanada, torn. i. p. 464. 



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93 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



dejar sent two detachments of soldJeis into the sierra, 
to discover his haunts, if possible, and seize upon hii 
person. 

The commander of one of these parties, named 
Maldonado, ascertained that Aben-Humeya, secreting 
nimself among the fastnesses of the mountains by day, 
would steal forth at night, and repair, with a few of his 
followers, to a place called Mecina, on the skirts of the 
iierra. Here he found shelter in the house of his kins- 
man, Aben-Aboo, one of those Moriscoes who, after 
the affair of Jubiles, had obtained a safe-conduct from 
Mondejar. Having gained this intelligence and learned 
the situation of the house, the Spanish captain marched, 
with his tittle band of two hundred soldiers, in that 
direction. He made his approach with the greatest 
secrecy. Travelling by night, he reached undiscov- 
ered the neighborhood of Aben-Aboo's residence. Ad- 
vancing under cover of the darkness, he had arrived 
within gunshot of the dwelling, when, at this critical 
moment, all his precautions were defeated by the care- 
lessness of one of his company, whose arquebuse was 
accidentally discharged. The report, reverberating 
from the hills in the silence of the night, roused the 
inmates of the house, who slept as the wearied mariner 
sleeps when his ship is in danger of foundering. One 
of them, El Zaguer, the uncle of Aben-Hunieya, and 
the person who had been mainly instrumental m 
securing him his crown, — a crown of thorns, — was the 
first roused, and, springing to the window, he threw 
himself down, though the height was considerable, and 
made his way to the mountains. 

His nephew, who lay in another part of the building. 



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ESCAPE OF ABEN-HUMEYA. 



93 



was not so fortunate. When he reached the window 
he saw with dismay the ground in front occupied 
by a body of Castilian troops. Hastening to another 
window, he found it still the same : his enemies were 
everywhere around the house. Bewildered and sorely 
distressed, he knew not where to turn. Thus entrapped, 
and without the means of making any terms with his 
enemies, lie knew he had as little to hope from their 
mercy as the wolf has from the hunters who have 
caught him in his lair. The Spaniards, meanwhile, 
were thundering at the door of the building for ad- 
mittance. Fortunately, it was well secured. A sudden 
thought occurred to Aben-Humeya, which he instantly 
put into execution. Hastening down-stairs, he took 
his station behind the door, and gently drew the bolts, 
The noise was not heard amidst the din made by the 
assailants, who, finding the door give way, supposed 
they had forced the fastenings, and, pouring in, soon 
spread themselves in every direction over the house 
in search of the fugitive. Aben-Humeya, ensconced 
behind the door, escaped observation, and, when his 
enemies had disappeared, stole out into the darkness, 
and, under its friendly mantle, succeeded in finding his 
way to the mountains. 

It was in vain that the Spaniards, enraged at the loss 
of the quarry, questioned Aben-Aboo as to the haunts 
of his kinsman, and of El Zaguer, his uncle, in the 
sierra. Nor could the most excruciating tortures shake 
bis constancy. " I may die," said the brave Morisco, 
"but my friends will live." Leaving him for dead, 
the soldiers returned to the camp, taking with them a 
number of prisonei's, his companions. There was no 



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94 



REBELLION OF TUB AIOR/SCOES. 



one of tUem, however, that was not provided with a 
safe-condiict from the marquis, who accordingly set 
them at liberty, showing a respect for his engagements 
in which, unhappily, as we shall see hereafter, he was 
not too well imitated by his soldiers. The heroic 
Aben-Aboo, though left for dead, did not die, but 
lived to head another insurrection and to take ampin 
vengeance on his enemies."* 

While the arms of the marquis of Mondejii ircre 
thus crowned with success, the'war raged yet more 
fiercely on the eastern slopes of the Alpujarras, where 
a martial race of mountaineers threatened a descent 
on Almeria and the neighboring places, keeping the 
inhabitants in perpetual alarm. They accordingly 
implored the government at Granada to take some 
effectual measures for their relief. The president, 
Deza, in consequence, desired the marquis of Los 
Velcz, who held the ofhce of adelantado of the adjoin- 
ing province of Murcia, to muster a force and provide 
for the defence of the frontier. This proceeding was 
regarded by Mondejax's friends as an insult to that 
nobleman, whose military authority extended over the 
country menaced by the Moriscoes, The act was the 
more annoying that the person invited to assume the 
command was a rival, between whose house and that 
of the Mendo^as there existed an ancient feud. Yet 

■1 The Castilian chronicler cacrol refuse his admintion — somewha 
roughly expresced — (o this brav: Morisco, — "esle baibaj-o," ax be 
calls him. "hijo de aspereia y f^aldad indomable. y meaosprecUdor 
de la muerte." (Marmol, Relv ion de Granada, torn. i. p. 503.) The 
tlory of the escape a( Aben-H meya is also told, and with liltle dis- 
crepancy, by Cabrera (Filipi- icgundo, p. 573} and Fermas (Hlit, 
d Espaene. lorn. z. pp. 39, 4- , 



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OPERATIONS OF LOS VELEZ. 



95 



the king sanctioned the proceeding, thinking perhaps 
that Mondejar was not in sufBcient force to protect the 
whole region of the Alpujarras. However this may 
be, Philip, by this act, brought two commanders of 
equal authority on the theatre of action, men who in 
their characters and habitual policy were so opposed to 
each other that little concert could be expected between 
them. 

Don Luis Fajardo, marquis of Los Velez, was a noble- 
man somewhat advanced in years, most of which had 
been passed in the active duties of military life. He 
had studied the art of war under the great emperor, 
and had acquired the reputation of a prompt and 
resolute soldier, bold in action, haughty, indeed over- 
bearing, in his deportment, and with an inflexible will, 
not to be shaken by friend or foe. The severity of his 
nature had not been softened under the stem training 
of the camp ; and, ^ his conduct in the present expe- 
dition showed, he was troubled with none of those 
scruples on the score of- humanity which so often 
turned the edge of Mondejar's sword from the defence- 
less and the weak. The Moriscoes, who understood 
his character well, held him in terror, as they proved 
by the familiar sobriquet which they gave him of the 
"iron-headed devil,"" 

•* " Quando entendieron que peleaban contra el campo del Marquel 
de loa Velei, i qitien los Motos de aqu< 11a lierra soUan llamai Ibilii 
Anaei el Hadid, que quiete decir, itfiiijub caieia di hirrro, perdierou 
eaperaiua de vitoria," Marmol, Rebelioo de Granada, lorn. i. p. 451. 
— Hita. who was a native of Mureia, and followed Los Velei to the 
war, iilvei an elaborate portrait of this powerful chief, whom he extob 
u one of die most valiant captains in Ihe world, rivalling in his 
Bchievemenis the Cid, Bernardo del Catpio, or any other hero ol 
(Tealesl renown in Spain. Guerras de Granada, lom. 11. p. bS, el im^ 



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p6 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

The marquis, on receiving the invitation of Deza, 
lost no time in gathering his kindred and numerous 
vassals around him; and they came with an alacrity 
which showed how willingly they obeyed the summons 
to a foray over the border. His own family was a 
warlike race, reared from the cradle amidst the din of 
arms. In the present expedition he was attended by 
three of his sons, the youngest of whom, a boy of j 
thirteen, had the proud distinction of carrying his 
father's banner." With the levies promptly furnished 
from the neighboring places, Los 'Velez soon found 
himself supported by a force of greater strength than 
that which followed the standard of Mondejar. At 
the head of this valiant but ill -disciplined array, he 
struck into the gloomy gorges of the mountains, re- 
solved on bringing the enemy at once to battle. 

Our limits will not allow room for the details of a 
campaign which in its general features bears so close 
a resemblance to that already described. Indeed, the 
contest was too unequal to afford a subject of much 
interest to the general reader, while the details are of 
still less importance in a military view, from the total 
ignorance shown by the Moriscoes of the art of war. 

The fate of the campaign was decided by three 
battles, fought successively at Hu^cija, Filix, and 
Ohanez, — places all lying in the eastern ranges of the 
Alpujarras. That of Filix was the most sanguinary. 
A great number of stragglers hung on the skirts of the 
Horisco army; and besides six thousand — many of 
tliem women"* — left dead upon the field, there were 

■f CIrcoun, Hist, des Aiabes en Espagne, lorn. ii. p. 346. 

•> " Mas niugeies que bombrei," says Mendoia, Gueira de Gmudtt, 
p. 83. 



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OPERATIONS OF LOS VELEZ. 97 

two thouiand children, we are told, butchered by the 
Spaniards." Some fled for refuge to the caves and 
thickets; but they were speedily dragged from their 
hiding-places and massacred by the soldiers in cold 
blood. Others, to escape death from the hands of 
their enemies, threw themselves headlong down the 
precipices, — some of them with their infants in their 
arms, — and thus miserably perished. "The cruelties 
committed by the troops," says one of the army, who 
chronicles its achievements, " were such as the pen re- 
fuses to record." I myself," he adds "saw the corpse 
of a Morisco woman, covered with wounds, stretched 
upon the ground, with six of her children lying dead 
around her. She had succeeded in protecting a seventh, 
still an infant, with her body; and, though the lances 
which pierced her had passed through its clothes, it had 
marvellously escaped any injury. It was clinging," he 
continues, "to its dead mother's bosom, from which 
it drew milk that was mingled with blood. I carried 
it away and saved it.'"* For the credit of human 
nature he records some other instances of the like 
kind, showing that a spark of humanity might occa- 

t "Ea menos de dos honts fueron muenas mas de seis mil personal 
entre hombrfs j mugeres; y de nlllos, desde uno hasia diet alios, 
habia mas de dos mil degollados," Hita. Guerras de Granada, tom. 
ii. p. 126. — We may hope this is an exaggeration of Ihe romancer. 
M endoza says nothing of the children, and reduces the slaiQ to seven 
hundred, Bui Hita was in the action. 

■* " La soldadesca que andaba suelta por el lugar comedj cniel- 
lides itutuditas, y que la pluma se leiiste i. transcribir." Ibid., p. 
las, 

■« " El Di&a arrastrando como pudd se llef^ i, ella, y movido dd 
deMO de mamar, se asi6 de los pechos de la madie, sacando leche 
sesclada con la sangre de las heridas," Ibid., p. lad, 
Wiilip.— Vol. III.— b 



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98 REBELLION OF THK MORISCOES. 

sionally be struck out from the flinty breasts of these 
marauders. 

The field of battle afforded a rich harvest for the 
victors, who stripped the dead, and rifled the bodies 
of the women, of collars, bracelets, ornatnents of gold 
and silver, and costly jewels, with which the Moorish 
female loved to decorate her person. Sated with 
plunder, the soldiers took the first occasion to leave 
their colors and return to their homes. Their places 
were soon supplied, as the display of their riches 
sharpened the appetites of their countrymen, who 
eagerly flocked to the banner of a chief that was sure 
to lead them on to victory and plunder. But that 
chief, with all his stern authority, was no match for 
the spirit of insubordination that, reigned among his 
troops ; and when he attempted to punish one of their 
number for a gross act of disobedience, he was made 
to understand that there were three thousand in the 
camp ready to stand by their comrade and protect 
him from injury." 

The wild excesses of the soldiery were strangely 
mingled with a respect for the forms of religion that 
intimated the nature of the war in which they were 
engaged. Before entering into action tlie whole army 
knelt down in prayer, solemnly invoking the protec- 
tion of Heaven on its champions. After the battle of 
Ohanez, where the mountain -streams were so polluteti 
with gore that the Spaniards found it difficult to slake 
their thirst, they proceeded to celebrate the/eti of the 

•o " Advirtiendo al mismo iiempo que hay Ires mil hombres paisano* 
fuyos puesios sobrc las annas, y decididos i perder la vida por sai- 
larle." Hila. Guerras de Granada, lorn. ii. p. 13a. 



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OPERATIONS OF LOS VELEZ. 99 

Purification of the Virgin." A procession was formed 
to the church. Which was headed by the marquis of 
Los Velez and his chivalry, clad in complete mail and 
bearing white upers in their hands. Then came the 
Christian women who had been rescued from captivity, 
dressed, by the general's command, in robes of blue 
and white, as the appropriate colors of the Virgin." 
The rear was brought up by a body of friars and other 
ecclesiastics who had taken part in the crusade. The 
procession passed slowly between the files of the 
soldiery, who saluted it with volleys of musketry as it 
entered the church, where Te Deum was chanted, and 
the whole company prostrated themselves in adoration 
of the Lord of Hosts, who had given his enemies into 
their hands. 

From this solemn act of devotion the troops pro- 
ceeded to the work of pillage, in which the commander, 
unlike his rival, the marquis of Mondejar, joined as 
heartily as the meanest of his followers. The Moorish 
captives, to the number of sixteen hundred, among 
whom, we are told, were many young and beautiful 
maidens, instead of meeting with the protection they 

" Hila has devoted one of the mosl spirited of bis mptanat (o the 
n>u( of Ohasei, The opening stanza may show the tone of It : 



y van umina di OhiDCi. 

Ay dc Ohuei t" 
" "Todos los caballeros y capitanes en la procesioa Himadoi 1 
todai sui annas, con velax de cera blanca en las manos, que se 1 
hablan enviado para aquel dia desde su casa, y todas las Chnstiaii 
en medio vestidas de aiitl y bianco, que por ser coloree apUcados 
Doe»traSeBora,mand6 el Marques que las vistiesendeaquellamane; 
i lu costa." Maimol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. i. p. 469. 



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loo hbbbllion of rim moriscoes. 

had received from Che more genero'is Mondejar, were 
delivered up to the licentious soldiery*; and for a fort- 
night there reigned throughout the camp a carnival of 
the wildest riot and debauchery." In this strange con- 
fusion of the religious sentiment and of crimes most 
revolting to humanity we see the characteristic features 
of I he crusade. Nowhere do we find such a free range 
given to the worst passions of our nature as in the 
wars of religion, — where each party considers itself aa 
arrayed against the enemies of God, and where the 
sanctity of the cause throws a veil over the foulest 
transgressions, that hides their enormity from the eye 
of the transgressor. 

While the Moriscoes were stunned by the fierce blowi 
thus dealt in rapid succession by the iron-hearted mar- 
quis, the mild and liberal policy of his rival was still 
more effectually reducing his enemies to obedience. 
Disheartened by their reverses, exhausted by fatigue 
and hunger, as they roved among the mountains, with- 
out raiment to clothe or a home to shelter them, the 
wretched wanderers came in one after another to sue 
for pardon. Nearly all the towns and villages in the 
district assigned to Mondejar, oppressed with like feel- 
ings of despondency, sent deputations to the Spanish 
quarters, to tender their submission and to sue for his 
protection. While these were graciously received, the 
general provided for the future security of his conquests, 
by establishing garrisons in the principal places, and by 

■3 " Trayjndose muchas moras hermosas, pues pasaion de Irescieii- 
tu las que se tomaroa all! ; y habi^ndolas (enldo loi soldados k so 
Toluatad mas de quince dias, al cabo de ellos tnandd ol marqajs qua 
laiUevBSeD i. la iglaia." Hila, Gueiraf de Granada, lorn, it p. ts^ 



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CABAL AGAINST MffNUE'JAk: \ti' 

sending small detachments to different parts, to act as 
a sort of armed police for the maintenance of order 
in this way, says a contemporary, the tranquillity of the 
country was so well established that small parties of ten 
or a dozen soldiers wandered unmolested from one end 
of it to the other." 

Mondejar, at the same time, wrote to the king, tu 
acquaint him with the actual state of things. He 
besought his master to deal mercifully with the con- 
quered people, and thus afford him the means of 
redeeming the pledges he had given for the favorable 
dispositions of the government." He made another 
communication to the marquis of Los Velez, urging that 
nobleman to co-operate with him in the same humane 
policy, as the one best suited to the interests of the 
country. But his rival took a very different view of 
the matter ; and he plainly told the marquis of Monde- 
jar that it would require more than one pitched battle 
yet to break the spirit of the Moriscoes, and that, since 
they thought so differently on the subject, the only 
way left was for each commander to take the course he 
judged best." 

■* " Por manera que ya estaim ta Alpuxarra tan liana, que diei j 
doce loldados iban de unos lugarei en otros, sin hallar quien las 
enojase." Majmol, Rebelion de Granada, lom, i. p, 49a.^Mendoia 
fully confinns Marniol's account of the quiet stale of the country, 
Guena de Granada, pp. 96, 97, 

'i"\jt suplicase de su pane los admitiese, habiendose misericordio- 
Samenle con Ids que no fiieaen muy culpados, para que ^1 pudiese 
cumplir la paJabra que tenia ya dada i. los reducidos, entendiendo ser 
aquel camino el mas breve para acabar con ellos por la via de 
equidad," Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, torn, i, p. 483. 

* " Que biclese por su parte lo que pudiese, porque an^ haria & 
de la suya." Ibid., p. 470. 

9* 



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"f6i* ' •\'R'E'BEtim'N of THE MORISCOES. 

Unfortunately, there were others — men, too, of in- 
fluence at the court — who were of the same stem way 
of thinking as the marquis of Los Velez ; men acting 
iinder the impulse of religious bigotry, of implacable 
natred of the Moslems, and of a keen remembrance of 
the outrages they had committed. There were others 
who, more basely, thought only of themselves and of 
the profit they should derive from the continuance of 
the war. 

Among those of the former class was the president, 
Deza, with the members of the Audience and the civil 
authorities in Granada. Always viewing the proceed- 
ings of the captain -general with an unfriendly eye, they 
loudly denounced his policy to the king, condemning 
his ill-timed lenity to a crafty race, who would profit 
by it to rally from their late disasters and to form new 
plans of rebellion. It was not right, they said, that 
outrages like those perpetrated against both divine 
and human majesty should go unpunished." Monde- 
jar's enemies did not stop here, but accused him of 
defrauding the exchequer of its dues, — the fifth of the 
spoils of war gained in battle from the infidel. Finally, 
they charged htm with having shown want of respect 
for the civil authorities of Granada, in omitting to 
communicate to them his plan of operations. 

The marquis, advised by his friends at court of these 
malicious attempts to min his credit with the govern- 
ment, despatched a confidential envoy to Madrid, to 
present his case before his sovereign and to refute the . 



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CylBAL AGAINST MONDEJAR. %o% 

accusations of his enemies. The charge of peculation 
seems to have made no impression on the mind of a 
prince who would not have been slow to suspect had 
there been any ground for suspicion. There may have 
been stronger grounds for the complaint of want of 
deference to the civil authorities of Granada. The 
best vindication of his conduct in this particular must 
be found in the character and conduct of his adversa- 
ries. From the first, Deza and the municipality had 
regarded him with jealousy and done all in their power 
to thwart his plans and circumscribe his authority. It 
is only confidence that begets confidence. Mondejar, 
early accustomed to command, was probably too impa- 
tient of opposition,* He chafed under the obstacles 
andannoyances thrown in his way by his narrow-minded 
rivals. We have not the means before us of coming to 
a conclusive judgment on the merits of the controversy ; 
but from what we know of the marquis's accusers, with 
the wily inquisitor at their head, we shall hardly err by 
casting our sympathies into the scale of the frank and 
generous-hearted soldier, who, while those that thus 
censured him were living at ease in the capital, had 
been fighting and following up the enemy amidst the 
winter's tempests and across mountains covered with 
snow, and who in little more than a month, without 
other aid than the disorderly levies of the cities, had 
quelled a dangerous revolt and restored tranquillity to 
the land. 

••"El Marques," sayi MendoE^ "hombre de eilrecha I riguros 
diiciplina, criado al favor de su abuela t padre en gian oficio, lio 
ignal Di coDlradictor, impaciente de tomar compaEia, comunicavn sua 
coiuqoi consigo miimo." Ouena de Qranada, p. 103. 



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t04 REBELLIOJf OF THE MORtSCOES. 

Fliilip was greatly perplexed by the different accounts 
sent to him of the posture of affairs in Granada. Mon- 
dejar's agent suggested to the council of state that tt 
would be well if his majesty would do as his father, 
Charles the Fifth, would have done in the like case, — 
repair himself to the scene of action, and observe the 
actual state of things with his own eyes. But the sug- 
gestion found no favor with the minister, Espinosa, who 
affected to hold the MorJscoes in such contempt that a 
measure of this kind, he declared, would be derogatory 
to the royal dignity. A better course would be for his 
majesty to send some one as his representative, clothed 
with full powers to take charge of the war, and of a 
rank so manifestly pre-eminent that neither of the two 
commanders now in the field could take umbrage at his 
appointment over their heads. 

This suggestion, as the politic minister doubtless had 
foreseen, was much more to Philip's taste than that of 
his going in person to the scene of strife ; for, however 
little he might shrink from any amount of labor in the 
closet, he had, as we have seen, a sluggish tempera- 
ment, that indisposed him to much bodily exertion. 
The plan of sending some one to represent the monarch 
at the seat of war was accordingly approved ; and the 
person selected for this responsible office was Philip's 
bastard brother, Don John of Austria,' 

Rumors of what was going on in the cabinet at 
Madrid, reaching Granada from time to time, were 
followed by the most mischievous consequences. The 

« Mendoia, Guerra de Granada, p. 115. et seq. — Mumol. RebelioQ 
de Granada, torn. i. pp. 511-513. — Miniana, Hisloria de Ei[iafia, p. 
376.— Cabrera. Filipe Seeundo, pp. S73, 574- 



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LICENSE OF THE SOLDIERS. loj 

troops, in particular, had no sooner learned that the 
marquis of Mondejar was about to be superseded in the 
command than they threw off the little restraint he 
had been hitherto able to impose on them, and aban- 
doned themselves to the violence and rapine to which 
they were so well disposed, and which seemed now to 
be countenanced by the president and the authorities 
in Granada. The very patrols whom Mondejar had 
commissioned to keep the peace were the firat to set 
the example of violating it. They invaded the hamlets 
and houses they were sent to protect, plundered them 
of their contents, and committed the foulest outrages 
on their inmates. The garrisons in the principal towns 
imitated their example, carrying on their depredations,* 
indeed, on a still larger scale. Even the capital, under 
the very eyes of the count of Tendilla, sent out detach- 
ments of soldiers, who with ruthless violence trampled 
down the green plantations in the valleys, sacked the 
villages, and dragged away the inhabitants from the 
midst of their blazing dwellings into captivity.*" 

It was with the deepest indignation that the marquis 
of Mondejar saw the fine web of policy he had been so 
busily contriving thus wantonly rent asunder by the 
very hands that should have protected it. He now 
longed as ardently as any in the province for the coming 
of some one intrusted with authority to enforce obedi- 
ence from the turbulent soldiery, — a task of still greater 
difficulty than the conquest of the enemy. While such 
was the state of things, an event occurred in Granada 

*> Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. ji. p. ft, et scq. — Mendota, 
Gnerni de Gianada, pp. 97, 138. — MiDiana. Historia de Espofta, p, 
376.— Cabreia, Fillpi Segimdo, pp. 575. 576. 



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lo6 RESELLIOff OF THE MORISCOES. 

which, in its general character, may remind one of 
some of the most atrocious scenes of the French Rev- 
olution. 

In the beg;inning of the troubles, the president had 
caused a number of Moriscoes, amounting to not less 
than a hundred and fif^y, it is said, to be arrested and 
thrown into the prison of the Chancery, Certain 
treasonable designs, of which they had been suspected 
for a long tirae, Aimished the feeble pretext for this 
violent proceeding. Some few, indeed, were imprisoned 
for debt. But the greater number were wealthy men, 
who enjoyed the highest consideration among their 
countrymen. They had been suffered to remain in 
confinement during the whole of the campaign, thus 
serving, in some sort, as hostages for the good behavior 
of the people of the Albaicin. 

Early in March, a rumor was circulated that the 
mountaineers, headed by Abcn-Humeya, whose father 
and brother were among the prisoners, were prepared 
to make a descent on the city by night, and, with the 
assistance of the inhabitants of the Albaicin, to begin 
the work of destruction by assaulting the prison of the 
Chancery and liberating their countrymen. This re- 
port, readily believed, caused the greatest alarm among 
the citizens, boding no good to the unhappy prisoners. 
On the evening of the seventeenth, fteza received in- 
telligence that lights had been seen on some of the 
neighboring mountains, which seemed to be of the 
nature of signals, as they were answered by correspond- 
ing lights in some of the houses in the Albaicin. The 
assault, it was said, would doubtless be made that very 
night. Tlie president appears to have taken no meas- 



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MASSACRE IN GRANADA. 107 

ures for the protection of the city. But on receiving 
the information he at once communicated it to the 
alcayde of the prison and directed him to provide for 
the security of his prisoners. The alcayde lost no time 
in gathering his friends about him, and caused arms to 
be distributed among a body of Spaniards, of whom 
there appears to have been a considerable number con- 
fined in the place at this time. Thus prepared, they all 
remained, as in silent expectation of some great event. 
At length, some time before midnight, the guard 
posted in the Campana, one of the towers of the Al- 
hambra, struck the bell with a succession of rapid 
strokes, such as were used to give an alarm. In a 
moment every Spaniard in the prison was on his feel ; 
and, the alcayde throwing open the doors and leading 
the way, they fell at once on their defenceless victims, 
confined in another quarter of the building. As many 
of these were old and infirm, and most of them inof- 
fensive citizens, whose quiet way of life had little fitted 
them for brawl or battle, and who were now destitute 
of arms of any kind, they seemed to be as easy victims 
as the sheep into whose fold the famishing wolves have 
broken in the absence of the shepherd. Yet they did 
not give up their lives without an efibrt to save them. 
Despair lent them strength, and, snatching up chairs, 
benches, or any other article of furniture in their cells, 
they endeavored to make good their defence against 
the assailants. Some, exerting a vigor which despair 
only could have given, succeeded in wrenching stones 
from the walls or iron bars from the windows, and thus 
supplied themselves F'th the means not merely of de- 
fence, but of doing some mischief to the assailants in 



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108 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOf:< 

tlieir turn. They fought, in short, like men who are 
fighting for their lives. Some, however, losing all hope 
of escape, piled together a heap of mats, bedding, and 
other combustibles, and, kindling them with their 
torches, threw themselves into the flames, intending in 
this way to set fire to the building and to perish in one 
general conflagration with their murderers." But the 
flames they had kindled were soon extinguished in their 
own blood, and their mangled remains were left to 
blacken among the cinders of their funeral pile. 

For two hours the deadly conflict between parties so 
unequally matched had continued; the one shouting 
its old war-cry of "Santiago," as if fighting on an 
open field ; the other, if we may take the Castilian 
account, calling on their prophet to come to their 
assistance. But no power, divine or human, interposed 
in their behalf; and, notwithstanding the wild uproar 
caused by men engaged in a mortal struggle, by the 
sound of heavy blows and falling missiles, by the yells 
of the victors and the dying moans and agonies of the 
vanquished, no noise to give token of what was going 
on — if we are to credit the chroniclers — found its 
way beyond the walls of the prison. Even the guard 
■lationed in the court-yard, we are assured, were not 
roused from their slumbers.' 

At length some rumor of what was passing reached 
the city, where the story ran that the Moriscoes were 

*• " Olros. como desesperados. juniando estetas. tascos y otras cosaj 
Mcas, que pudiesen arder, se metian eatre sus mesmas Itairuu, j !ai 
■vivaban. para que ardiendo la carcet jr ta Audiencia, pereoiesen todoa 
k» que Htaban dentro." Marmol, Rebelicu de Granada, torn. i. p, 
517. 

J> Ibid., ubl lupn. 



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MASSACJIB IN GRANADA. 



loy 



in arms against their keepers and would soon probably 
get possession of the gaol. This report was enough for 
the people, who, roused by the alarm-bell, were now 
in a state of excitement that disposed them to any deed 
of violence. Snatching np their weapons, they rushed, 
or rather flew, like vultures snuffing the carrion from 
afar, to the scene of slaughter. Strengthened by this 
reinforcement, the assailants in the prison soon com- 
pleted the work of death ; and when the morning light 
broke through the grated windows it disclosed the full 
extent of the tragedy. Of all the Moriscoes only two 
had escaped,-^the father and brother of Aben-Humeysi, 
over whom a guard had been especially set. Five 
Spaniards were slain, and seventeen wounded,— rshow- 
ing the fierce resistance made by the Moslems, though 
destitute of arms." 

Such was the massacre in the prison of the Chancery 
of Granada, which, as already intimated, nowhere finds 
a more fitting parallel than in the murders perpetrated 
on a still larger scale during the French Revolution, in 
the famous massacres of September. But the miscreants 
who perpetrated these enormities were the tools of a 
sanguinary faction, that was regarded with horror by 
every friend of humanity in the country. In Granada, 
on the other hand, it was the government itself, or at 
least those of highest authority in it, who were respon- 
sible for the deed. For who can doubt that a proceed- 
ing, the success of which depended on the concurrence 

n " Los mataron k todos, sin dexar hombre d vida, sino fileron los 
dos que defendid la guardia que tenian." Mannol, RebelloD da 
Granada, torn. i. p. si^.—See also Mendoia, Guerra de GranadA, p. 
133 ; Herrera. Historia. gtneral, torn. L p. 744. 

Philip.— Vol. III. 10 



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ITO REBELLION Of THE MORISCOES. 

of so many circumstances as to preclude the idea of 
accident, must have been countenanced, if not con- 
trived, by those who had the direction of affairs? 

Another feature, not the least striking in the case, is 
the apathy shown by contemporary writers, — men who 
on more than one occasion have been willing to testify 
their sympathy for the sufferings of the Moriscoes. 
One of these chroniclers, after telling the piteous tale, 
coolly remarks that it was a good thing for the alcayde 
of the prison, who pocketed a large sum of money 
which had been found on the persons of the wealthy 
Moors. Another, after noticing the imputation of an 
intended rising on the part of the prisoners as in the 
highest degree absurd, dismisses the subject by telling 
us that " the Moriscoes were a weak, scatter-brained 
race, with just wit enough to bring on themselves such 
a mishap,'" — as he pleasantly terras the massacre,** The 
government of Madrid received the largest share of 
the price of blood. For when the wives and families 
of the deceased claimed the inheritance of their estates, 
in some cases very large, their claims were rejected — 
on what grounds we are not told — by the alcaldes of 
the Court of Audience in Granada, and the estates 
were confiscated to the use of the crown. Such a 
decision, remarks a chronicler, may lead one to infer 
that the prisoners had been guilty of even more heinous 
offences than those commonly imputed to them," The 



M " Havia en ellos cutpados en platicas i uil...^^uu,xl,<uiie9, i 

I deseo ; genie fl^ica, llviana, inhabil para lodo, sino para, dar oca^on 

su desvenlura." Mendoza, Guerra de Granada., p. 133. 

SS " Las culpas de los quales debieron ser mayores de lo que aqui 
: cKribe, porque despues pidiendolas mugeresrhijosde los muerlos 



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THE INSURRECTION REKINDLED. 1 1 1 

impartial reader will probably come to a very different 
conclusion ; and, since it was the opulent burghers who 
were thus marked out for destruction, he may natu- 
rally infer that the baser passion of avarice mingled 
with the feelings of fear and hatred in bringing about 
the massacre. 

However this may be, so foul a deed placed an im 
passable gulf between the Spaniards and the Moriscoes. 
It taught the latter that they could no longer rely on 
their perfidious enemy, who, while he was holding out 
to them one hand in token of reconciliation, was rais- 
ing the other to smite them to the ground. A cry of 
vengeance ran through all the borders of the Alpujarras. 
Again the mountaineers rose in arms. They cut off 
stragglers, waylaid the patrols whom Mondejar had dis- 
tributed throughout the country, and even menaced the 
military posts of the Spaniards. On some occasions 
they encountered the latter with success in the open 
field, and in one instance defeated and slew a large 
body of Christians as they were returning from a foray 
laden with plunder. Finally, they invited Aben-Hu- 
meya to return and resume the command, promising 
to stand by him to the last. The chief obeyed the 
call, and, leaving his retreat in the Sierra Nevada, again 
took possession of his domains, and, planting his blood- 
red flag on his native hills,^ soon gathered around him 

(ua doles y haciendas ante los alcaldes del crimen de aquclla Audien- 
cia, y saliendo el fiscal i. la causa, se loTrad proceso en forma ; y por 
sentencias y revista fueron condenados. y aplicados lodos sua bieuea 
•1 Real fisco." Mannol, Rebelion de Granada, lom. i. p. 517, 

^ " Levant6 un Estandane bermejo. que mostrava el lugar de la 
parsona del Rei a manera deGulon." Mendoia.Onerrade Granala. 



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Iia REBELLION OF THE MOXISCOES. 

a mure formidable host than before. He even affected 
a greater pomp than he had before displayed. He sur- 
rotmded himself with a body-guard of four hundred 
arquebusiers." He divided his army into battaliona 
and companies, and endeavored to introduce into it 
something of the organization and tactics of the Span- 
iards.* He sent his brother AbdaJlah to Constanti- 
nople, to represent his condition to the sultan and to 
implore him to make common cause with his Moslem . 
brethren in the Peninsula. In short, rebellion assumed 
a. more audacious front than at any time during the 
previous campaign; and the Christians of Andalusia 
and Granada looked with the greatest anxiety for 
the coming of a commander possessed of sufficient 
authority to infuse harmony into the counsels of the 
rival chie&, to enforce obedience from the turbulent 
soldiery, and to bring the war to a speedy conclusion. 

V " Para seguridad de su persona pagd arcabuceria de guardia. qua 
file credeudo hoila quaCrocienlos hombres." Mendoia. Gueira da 
Sranada, p. it8. 

' " Sisiu6 nueslni orden de Guerra, reparti6 la genie por eiquadraa, 
lBiit61a en compafiiai, nombnS Capilanes." Ibid., ubi mpra. 



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DON JOHN or AUSTRIA. 



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CHAPTER V. 

REBELLION OF THE MORISCOKS. 

Eariy Life of Don John of Austria.— Acknowledged br Philip.— Hfi 
Thirst for DiaIinction.-_His Cniise in the Medilerruean. — Mad* 
Cortimander-in-Chief,— The Wai renewed.— Removal of the Mo- 

1569. 

As Don John of Austria is to occupy an important 
place, not only in the war with the Moriscoes, but in 
some of the most memorable scenes in the remalndei 
of rtiis history, It will be proper to acquaint the reader 
with what is known of the earlier part of his career. 
Yet' it is precisely over this part of it that a veil of 
myZtery hangs, which no industry of the historian haa 
been able wholly to remove. 

It seems probable that he was bom in the year 1547.' 
The twenty-fourth of February is assigned by common 
consent — I hardly know on what ground — as the day 
of his birth. It was also, it may be remembered, the 
birthday of his father, Charles the Fifth. His mother, 

■ This, which is two yeais later than the date commonly assigned 
by historians, seems to be settled by the researches of Lafuente. 
(See Historia general de EspaKa (Madrid, 1S54), tom. xiii. p. 437, 
note.) Among other evidence adduced by Ihe historian is that of a 
medal stmcli in honor of Dan John's victory al Lepanto, in the year 
1571, Ihe inscription on which expressly states thai he was twenty-lout 
yean of age. 

io« (113) 



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,14 REBELLION OF THE AfOfHSCOES. 

Barbara Blomberg, was an inhabitant of Ratisbon, ii 
Germany. She is described as a beautiful young girl, 
who attracted the emperor's notice several years after 
the death of the Empress Isabella." The Spanish 
chroniclers claim a noble descent for Barbara.' In- 
deed, it would go hard but a Spaniard could make out 
a pedigree for his hero. Yet there are several circum- 
stances which suggest the idea that the mother of Don 
John must have occupied a very humble position. 

Subsequently to her connection with Charles she 
married a German named Kegell, on whom the emperor 
bestowed the office of commissary.* The only other 
notice, so far as I am aware, which Charles took of hia 
former mistress, was the settlement on her of a yearly 
pension of two hundred florins, which he made the day 
before his death.' It was certainly not a princely leg- 
acy, and infers that the object of it must have been in 
a humble condition in life to have rendered it impor- 
tant to her comfort. We are led to the same conclusion 
by the mystery thrown around the birth of the cllild, 

• Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Auslrio., fol. 3. — Villa&ne. VIda. f 
Virtudes de DoHa Magdalena de Ulloa (Salamanca, 1713), p. 36,— 
See also Lafuenle, Historia de EspaRa, lorn. ]dil. p. 43a. This lajt 
hislorian has made the parentage of John of Aiulrla the subject of 
a. particular discussion in the Revisia de Amboi Mundos, No. 3. 

1 Vanderhammen, alluding lo the doubts thrown on the rankof hi« 
hero's mother, consoles himself with the reflection thai, if there WM 
any deficiency in this panicular. no one can deny Uial it vra« moro 
(ban compensated by the proud origin of her imperial lover. Dod 
Juan de Austria. 161. 3. 

• Lafuenle, Hist de Espalla, torn. xiii. p. 433. nole. 

s Gachard, Retraite et Mort de Charles-Quint, tom. Ii. p. 506.— In 
a private inlerviev with Luis Quixada, the evening before his death, 
the emperor gave him six hundred gold crowns 10 purchase the 
above-mentioned pensiou. 



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DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA. ,15 

forming so strong a control to the publicity given to 
the binh of the emperor's natural daughter, Margaret 
of Parma, whose mother could boast that in her veim 
flowed some of the best blood of the Netherlands. 

For three years the boy, who received the name of 
Geronimo, remained under his mother's roof, when, by 
Charles's order, he was placed in the hands of a 
Fleming named Maiii, a musician in the imperial band. 
This man transferred his residence to Leganes, a village 
in Castile, not far from Madrid. The instrument still 
exists that contains the agreement by which MafiS, after 
acknowledging the receipt of a hundred florins, engages 
for fifty florins annually to bring up the child with as 
much care as if he were his own.* It was a moderate 
allowance, certainly, for the nurture of one who was 
some day to come before the world as the son of an 
emperor. It showed that Charles was fond of a bar- 
gain, — though at the expense of his own offspring. 

No instruction was provided for the child except such 
as he could pick up from the parish priest, who, as he 
knew as little as MafB did of the secret of Geronimo's 
birth, probably bestowed no more attention on him 
than on the other lads of the village. And we cannot 
doubt that a boy of his lively temper must have pre- 
ferred passing his days in the open fields, to confine* 
ment in the house and listening to the homilies of his 
teacher. As he grew in years, he distinguished himself 
above his young companions by his courage. He took 

* Hib Interesling documenl was fband among Ihe testamentary 
ptqwis af Charles Ihe Fifth. A copy of It has been preserved among 
Ibe manuscripts of Cardinal Gnuvelle. Papiei d'£tat. torn. iv. ppi 



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Il6 SEBELLIOlf OF THE MORISCOES. 

the lead in all their rustic sports, and gave token of his 
belligerent propensities by making war on the birds in 
the orchards, on whom he did great execution with his 
little cross-bow.T 

Four years were passed in this hardy way of life, 
which, if it did nothing else for the boy, had the advan- 
tage of strengthening his constitution for the serious 
trials of manhood, when the emperor thought it was 
time to place him in a situation where he would receive 
a better trtuning than could be found in the cottage of 
a peasant. He was accordingly transferred to the pro 
tection of Luis Quixada, Charles's trusty major-domo, 
who received the child into his family at Villagarcia, in 
the neighborhood of Valladolid. THe emperor showed 
his usual discernment in the selection of a guardian for 
his son. Quixada, with his zeal for the faith, his loy- 
alty, his nice sentiment of honor, was the very type of 
the Castilian hidalgo in his best form ; while he possessed 
all those knightly qualities which made him the perfect 
mirror of the antique chivalry. His wife, Dofla Mag- 
dalena de Ulloa, sister of the marquis of Mota, was a 
lady yet more illustrious for her virtues than for her 
rank. She had naturally the most to do with the 
training of the boy's earlier years ; and under her dis- 
cipline it was scarcely passible that one of so generous 
a nature should fail to acquire the courtly breeding and 
refinement of taste which shed a lustre over the stem 
character of the soldier. 

However much Quixada may have reposed on his 
wife's discretion, he did not think proper to try it, in 
T "Gastava buena parte del dia «n tjrar con una t>id1cstUb a loa 
paxaros." Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, ^ lo. 



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DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA. 117 

the present instance, by communicating to her the secret 
of Geronimo's birth. He spoke of him as the son of 
a great man, his dear friend, expressing his desire that 
his wife would receive him as her own child. This waa 
the less difficult, as Magdalena had no children of her 
own. The solicitude shown by her lord may possibly 
have suggested to her the idea that the boy was more 
nearly related to him than he chose to acknowledge, — 
in short, that he was the offspring of some intrigue of 
Quixada previous to his nnarriage.' But an event which 
took place not long after the child's introduction into 
the family is said to have awakened in her suspicions 
of an origin more in accordance with the truth. The 
house at Villagarcia took fire ; and, as it was in the 
night, the flames gained such head that they were not 
discovered till they burst through the windows. The 
noise in the street roused the sleeping inmates; and 
Quixada, thinking first of his charge, sprang from his 
bed, and, rushing into Geronimo's apartment, snatched 
up the affrighted child and bore him in his arms to a 
place of safety. He then re-entered the house, and, 
forcing his way through the smoke and flames, succeeded 
in extricating his wife from her perilous situation. 
This sacrifice of love to loyalty is panegyrized by a 
Castilian chronicler as " a rare achievement, far tran- 
scending any act of heroism of which antiquity could 
boast."' Whether Magdalena looked with the same 

• " Y puede ser llegase i sospechar, A acaso tendria pot Padre i 
HI Esposo." VillafaSc, Vida de Magdalena de Ulloa, p. 3S. 

• " Accion singular y rara, y que dexa atias quanlas la Antiguedad 
eclebra por peregrinas." Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, fol. 
31.— According lo another biographer, two fires occurred to Quixada, 
one in Villagarcia and one in Vnlladolid. On each of these occasion* 



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llS REBELLION OF THE MORJSCOES. 

complacency on the proceeding we are not informed 
Certain it is, however, that the interest shown by hei 
husband in the child had do power to excite any feel- 
ing of jealousy in her bosom. On the contrary, it 
■ecmed rather to strengthen her own interest in the 
boy, whose uncommon beauty and affectionate disposi- 
tion soon called forth all the tenderness of her nature. 
She took him to her heart, and treated him with all 
the fondness of a mother, — a feeling warmly recipro- 
cated by the object of it, who, to the day of his death, 
regarded her with the truest feelings of fihal love and 
reverence. 

In 1558, the year after his retirement to Yuste, 
Charles the Fifth, whether from a wish to see his son, 
or, as is quite as probable, in the hope of making 
Quixada more contented with his situation, desired his 
major-domo to bring his family to the adjoining village 
of Cuacos. While there, the young Geronimo must 
doubtless sometimes have accompanied his mother, as 
he called Dofia Magdalena, in her visits to the monas- 
tery. Indeed, his biographer assures us that the sight 
of him operated like a panacea on the emperor's 
health." We find no allusion to him, however, in any 
of the letters from Yuste ; and, if he did go there, we 
may be sure that Charles had sufficient control over 
himself not to betray, by any indiscreet show of fond- 

ihe house was deslroyed, bul his ward was saved, borne off by the 
good knight in his arms. (Villa&ne, Vida de Magdalena de UUoa, 
pp. 44, 53.) The coincidences are 100 much opposed to the doctrina 
of chances 10 commend ihemselves readily to our failh. Vandei- 
hunmen's reflection was drawn forth by the second fire, the only oh 
tw notices, ll applies, however, equally well to both. 
» Vanderhammen, Don ]uan de Austria, fol. 16. 



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DON JOHN OF AUSTRIA nf, 

ness, lis relationship to the child." One tradition re- 
specting hiro lingered to a late period among the people 
of Cuacos, where the'peasants, it is said, pelted him 
with stones as he was robbing their orchards. It was 
the Arst lesson in war of the future hero of Lepanto. 

There is no reason to doubt that the boy witnessed 
Uie obsequies of the emperor. One who was present 
tells us that he saw him there, dressed in full mourning, 
and standing by the side of Quixada, for whose page 
he passed among the brethren of the convent." We 
may well believe that a spectacle so solemn and affect- 
ing as these funeral ceremonies must have sunk deep 
into his young mind, and heightened the feelings of 
veneration with which he always regarded the memory 
of his father. It was perhaps the appearance of Gero- 
nimo as one of the mourners that first suggested the 
idea of his relationship to the emperor. We find a 
letter from Quixada to Philip, dated soon after, in 
which he speaks of rumors on the subject as current 
in the neighborhood." 

Among the testamentary papers of Charles was found 
one in an envelope sealed with his private seal, and 

have had it from the monks of Yuste, 
1 was casually seen by the emperor, 
who was careful to maintain his usual reserve and dignified demeanor, 
ta thai no one could suspect his secret. Once or twice," adds lh« 
Jeronymite father, ■' the lad entered the apartment of his father, who 
doubtless spoke to him as he would have spoken to any other boy." 
Kistoria de la Oiden de San Geronimo. tom. iii. p. 305. 

" Relation d'un Relieieux de Yusle, ap. Gachard, Retiaite et Mort 
de Charles-Quint, lorn. ii. p. 55. 

■1 ■■ Hallo tan publico aqul lo que toca aquella persona que V. M*^ 
satw que estd d ml cai^o que me ha espantado. y espdnlame roticho 
mas bs paiticuLuidades que sobtelio oyo." Ibid., torn. i. p. 449. 



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no REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

addressed to his son, Philip, or, in case of his dcatli, 
to his grandson, Carlos, or whoever might be in pos- 
session of the crown. It was dated in 1554, before his 
retirement to Yuste. It acknowledged his connection 
vitb a German maiden, and the birth of a son named 
Geronimo. The mother's name was not given. He 
pointed out the quarter where information could be 
got respecting the child, who was then living with the 
violin-player at Leganes. He expressed the wish that 
he should be trained up fdr the ecclesiastical profession, 
and that, when old enough, he should enter a convent 
of one of the reformed orders. Charles would not; 
however, have any constraint put on the inclinations 
of the boy, and in case of his preferring a secular life 
he would have a suitable estate settled on htm in the 
kingdom of Naples, with an annual income of between 
thirty and forty thousand ducats. Whatever course 
Geronimo might take, the emperor requested that he 
should receive all the honor and consideration due to 
him as his son. His letter concluded by saying that, 
although for obvious reasons he had not inserted these 
directions in his will, he wished them to be held of the 
same validity as if he had.** Philip seems from the 
first to have so regarded them, though, as he was then 
in Flanders, he resolved to postpone the public ac- 
knowledgment of his brother till his return to Spain. 
Meanwhile, the rumors in regard to Geronimo's birth 
had reached the ears of the regent, Joanna. With 

" A copy of Ihis inlerasting documeni waa found in the coUectio* 
of Granvelle at B«an;oTi. and has b«en lately published in (he beau- 
liful edition of the cardinal's papers. Pliers d'etat, lom. iv. P.49S- 



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DON yOHN OF AUSTRIA. lai 

natural curiosity, she ordered her secretary to write to 
Quixada and ascertain the truth of the report. The 
trusty hidalgo endeavored to evade the question by 
saying that some years since a friend of his had in- 
trusted a boy to his care, but, as no allusion whatever 
was niade to the child in the emperor's will, the story 
of their relationship to each other should be treated as 
idle gossip." The reply did not satisfy Joanna, who 
seems to have settled it in her own mind that the story 
was well founded. She took an occasion soon after to 
write to Dofia Magdalena, during her husband's ab- 
sence from home, expressing her wish that the lady 
would bring the boy where she could see him. The 
place selected was at an auto de fe about to be cele- 
brated in Valladolid. Dofia Magdalena, reluctant as 
she was, felt herself compelled to receive the request 
from such a source as a command which she had no 
right to disobey. One might have thought that a cere- 
mony so heart -rending and appalling in its character 
as an auto defe would be the last to be selected for the 
indulgence of any feeling of a light and joyous nature. 
But the Spaniard of that and of a much later age re- 
garded this as the sweetest sacrifice that could be offered 
to the Almighty ; and he went to it with the same in- 
difference to the sufferings of the victim — probably 
with the same love of excitement — which he would 
have felt in going to a bull-fight. 
On the day which had been named, Magdalena and 

'S"Qae paes Su M'"*, en su testamento m codecilo. no hazia 
memoria dfl. que eta riuon tenello por buria, j que no sabia qua 
poder reapondet otta cosa, en piibtico ni en secrtlo." GachanL 
Retreiie ei Mori de Charlea-Qainl. lom. i. p. 446, 

Philip.— Vol. III.— F II 



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^ 



193 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

her charge took their seats on the carpeted platform 
reserved for persons of rank, in full view of the scaffold 
appropriated to the martyrs who were to suffer for 
conscience' sake. It was in the midst of the august 
company here assembled that the son of Charles the 
Fifth was to receive his first lesson in the school of 
persecution ; that he was to learn to steel his heart 
against sympathy with human suffering; to learn, 
above all, that compassion for the heretic was a crime 
of the deepest dye. It was a terrible lesson for one 
so young,— of an age when the mind is most open to 
impressions; and the bitter fruits of it were to be 
discerned ere long in the war with the Moriscoes. 

As the royal train approached the place occupied by 
DoRa Magdalena, the regent paused and looked around 
for the boy. Magdalena had thrown her mantle about 
him, to conceal him as much as possible from the public 
eye. She now drew it aside ; and Joanna looked so long 
and earnestly on the child that he shrank abashed from 
her gaze. It was not, however, before she had recognized 
in his bright blue eyes, his ample forehead, and the rich 
yellow locks that clustered round his head, some of the 
peculiarities of the Austrian line, though happily with- 
out the deformity of the protruding lip, which was no 
less its characteristic. Her heart yearned with the 
tenderness of a sister, as she felt convinced that the 
same blood flowed in his veins as in her own ; and, 
stooping down, she threw her arms around his neck, 
and, kissing him, called him by the endearing name of 
brother." She would have persuaded him to go with 



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DON yOHN ACKNOWLEDGED BY FHILIP. 113 

her and sit by her side. But the boy, clinging closely 
to his foster-mother, refused to leave her for the 
stranger lady. 

This curious scene attracted the attention of the 
rarrounding spectators, which was hardly diverted firom 
the child by the appearance of the prisoners on the 
scaffold to receive their sentences. When these had 
been pronounced, and the wretched victims led away 
to execution, the multitude pressed so eagerly round 
Magdalena and the boy that it was with difficulty the 
guards could keep them back, till the regent, seeing 
the awkwardness of their sittiation, sent one of her 
train, the count of Osomo, to their relief; and that 
nobleman, forcing his way through the crowd, carried 
off Geronimo in his arms to the royal caniage."' 

It was not long before all mystery was dispelled by 
the public acknowledgment of the child as the son of 
the emperor. One of the first acts of Philip after his 
return to Spain, in 1559, was to arrange an interview 
with his brother. The place assigned for the meeting 
was an extensive park, not far from Valladolid, in the 
neighborhood of the convent of La Espina, a spot 
much resorted to by the Castilian princes of the older 
time for the pleasures of the chase, 

faennano, y liat&le de Alteia." Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Aus- 
tria, fol. 33. 

■? " Uego el caso a eatado, que le huvo de (Omar en bra^os el Condv 
C^omo hasta la cairofa de la Princesa, porque 1e giiiassen todos." 
Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, fol. 25. — The story must bo 
admitled )o be a strange one, considering the punctilious chaiaclei 
of the Castilian court and the reserved and decorous habits of 
Joanna. Uut the author, bam and bred in the palace, had access, 
a* he lells us, to the very bigbest Eources of iafbtmation. oral and 



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114 



REBELLIOJV Of THE MORISCOES. 



On the appointed day, Quixad?, richly dressed, and 
mounted on the best horse in his stables, rode forth, at 
the Iiead of his vassals, to meet the king, with the little 
Gcronimo, simply attired and on a common palfrey, by 
his side. They had gone but a few miles when they 
heard through the woods the sound of horses' hoofe, 
announcing the approach of the royal cavalcade. Qui- 
xada halted, and, alighting, drew near to Geronlmo, 
with much deference in his manner, and, dropping on 
one knee, be^ed permission to kiss his hand. At 
the same time he desired his ward to dismount, and 
take the charger which he had himself been riding. 
Geronimo was sorely bewildered by what he would 
have thought a merry jest on the part of his guardian, 
had not his sedate and dignified character forbidden 
the supposition. Recovering from his astonishment, 
he complied with his guardian's directions; and the 
Tision of future greatness must have flashed on his 
mind, if, as we are told, when preparing to mount, he 
turned round to Quixada, and with an affected air of 
dignity told him that, "since things were so, he might 
bold the stirrup for him." ■' 

They had not proceeded far when they came in sigtii 
of the royal party. Quixada pointed out the king to 
his ward, adding that his majesty had something of 
importance to communicate to him. They then dis- 
mounted; and the boy, by his guardian's instructions, 
drawing near to Philip, knelt down and begged leave 

'*"Vu«[to ]ra en si de la suspension primera., alargd la mano. y 
raonrt en elcaballo; y aun se dice que eon airosa Grandeia, afiadifi ; 
Pues si eso es asi lenedel estribo." Villafaile. Vida de Do«a Magda. 
leoa de UUoa, p. 51. 



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VQff yOJffJf ACKNOWLEDGED BY FHILIP. 115 

to kiss his majesty's hand. The king, graciously 
extending it, looked intently on the youth, and at 
length broke silence by asking "if he knew who was 
his father." Geronimo, disconcerted by the abrupt- 
ness of the question, and indeed, if the reports of his 
origin had ever reached his ears, ignorant of their 
truth, cast his eyes on the ground and made no 
answer. Philip, not displeased with his embarrass- 
ment, was well satisfied, doubtless, to read in his 
intelligent countenance and noble mien an assurance 
that he would do no discredit to his birth. Alighting 
from his horse, he embraced Geronimo, exclaiming, 
" Take courage, my child ; you are descended from a 
great man. The Emperor Charles the Fifth, now in 
glory, is your fether as well as mine." » Then, turning 
to the lords who stood around, he presented the boy to 
them as the son of their late sovereign, and his own 
brother. The courtiers, with the ready instinct of their 
tribe, ever prompt to worship the rising sun, pressed 
eagerly forward to pay their obeisance to Geronimo. 
The scene was concluded by the king's buckling a 
Eword on his brother's side and throwing around his 
neck the sparkling collar of the Golden Fleece. 

The tidings of this strange event soon spread over 
the neighborhood, for there were many more witnesses 
of the ceremony than those who took part in it ; and 
the king and his retinue found, on their return, a 
multitude of people gathering along the route, eager 
lo get a glimpse of this newly -discovered gem of 

•» " Macte, inquH, animo puer, pranobiUs viri Rlius es tu : Carolua 
Quinliu Imperator, qui coelo degit. utriuique nMtrllin pater at.' 
Strada, De Bdlo Belgico, torn. i. p. 60B. 



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1J6 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

royalty. Tlie sight of the handsome youth called 
forth a burst of noisy enthusiasm from the populace, 
and the air rang with their tumultuous vivas as the 
royal party rode through the streets of the ancient city 
of Valladolid. Philip expressed his satisfaction at the 
events of the day, by declaring that "he had never 
met better sport in his life, or brought back game so 
much to his mind. ' ' " 

Having thus publicly acknowledged his brother, the 
king determined to provide for him an establishment 
suited to his condition. He assigned him for his resi- 
dence one of the best mansions in Madrid. He was 
furnished with a numerous band of retainers, and a." 
great state was maintained in his household as in that 
of a prince of the blood. The count of Priego acted 
as his chief major-domo ; Don Luis Carrillo, the eldest 
son of that noble, was made captain of the guard ; and 
Don Luis de C6rdova master of the horse. In short, 
nobles and cavaliers of the best blood in Castile did 
not disdain to hold offices in the service of the peasant- 
boy. With one or two exceptions, of little impor- 
tance, he enjoyed all the privileges that belonged to 
the royal infantes. He did not, like them, have apart- 
ments in the palace ; and he was to be addressed bjr 
the title of "Excellency," instead of "Highness," 
which was their peculiar prerogative. The distinction 
was not always scrupulously observed," 

■° " JanUb habia tenido dia de caza mas gustoso. ni logrado prasa 
qii; le hubieee dado tanto contenlo." VillafaKe, Vida dc Dofla Mag- 
dalena de Ulloa, p. sa.^Thia curious account of Phi1ip"s recognition 
of bis brollier is told, witb less discrepancy tban usual, by varioiu 
nrilen of that day. 

M Vanderhammen, Dod Juan de Austria, ioLa?. — " llandile 11 unac 



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DON JOHN ACKNOWLEDGED BY PHILIP, jjj 

A more important change took place in his name, 
which from Geronimo was now converted into_/oA« of 
Austria, — a lofty name, which intimated his descent 
from the imperial house of Hapsburg, and on which 
his deeds in after-life shed a lustre greater than the 
proudest title that sovereignty could confer. 

Jjuis Qjiixada kept the same place after his pupil's 
elevation as before. He continued to be his ayo, or 
governor, and removed with DofSa Magdalena to Ma- 
drid, where he took up his residence in the house of 
Don John. Thus living in the most intimate personal 
relations with him, Quixada maintained his influence 
unimpaired till the hour of his own death. 

Philip fully appreciated the worth of the faithful 
hidalgo, who was fortunate in thus enjoying the favor 
of the son in as great a degree as he had done that of 
the father, — and, as it would seem, with a larger recom- 
pense for his services. He was master of the horse to 
Don Carlos, the heir to the crown ; he held the im- 
portant post of president of the Council of the Indies , 
and he possessed several lucrative benefices in the mili- 
tary order of Calatrava. In one of his letters to the 
king, we find Quixada remarking that he had endeav- 
ored to supply the deficiencies of his pupil's early edu- 
cation by training him in a manner better suited to hi3 
destinies in after-life." We cannot doubt that in the 



Ecelencia; pero 


us Reales costu 


bres 1 


dieron adelaj 


nle litulo de 


Alteia i de se 


flor 


enire los Grandes 


imen 




a, Filipe Se- 


gondo. lib. » 


<ap 


3- 








" ■' Tengo 




bo cujdado que 


aprend 


a y se 1e ensefien las cosaa 




nfor 


me k su edad y i 


acBlldaddesupeison 


.que.iegun 






ue se cri6 y ha estado 




i mi poder, 


a bien mene 








ouenla con i^l 


■ Gaohanl, 


Reuaile et Mort de Chariea-Quint 


iom.J 


P.4S9- 





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128 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

good knight's estimate of what was essential to such a 
training the exercises of chivalry must have found more 
favor than the monastic discipline recommended by the 
emperor. However this may have been, Philip resolved 
to give his brother the best advantages for a liberal 
education by sending him to the University of Alcali, 
which, founded by the great Ximenes a little more 
than a century before, now shared with the older school 
of Salamanca the glory of being the most famous seat 
of science in the Peninsula. Don John had for his 
companions his two nephews, Don Carlos, and Alex- 
ander Farnese, the son of Margaret of Parma. They 
formed a triumvirate each member of which was to 
till a large space in the pages of history, — Don Carlos 
from his errors and misfortunes, and the two others 
from their military achie\'ements. They were all of 
nearly the same age. Don John, according to a writer 
of the time, stood foremost among the three for the 
comeliness, or rather beauty, of his person, no less 
than for the charm of his manners ;** while his soul 
was filled with those nobler qualities which gave prom- 
ise of the highest excellence.'' 

His biographers tell us that Don John gave due 
attention to his studies ; but the studies which found 
most favor in his eyes were those connected with the 
art of war. He was perfect in all .chivalrous accom- 
plishments; and he sighed for some field on which 
he could display them. The knowledge of his real 

■) " Long:i tamen anidbat Auslriacus et corporU habitadine, et 
■norum suavitHie. Facies illi non mod6 pulcbca, sed eliaia vcDuita." 
Stiada, De Bella Belgico, lorn. i. p. 609. 

Done polcDtiae hospite, verccundla." Ibid., loc. dt. 



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JflS THIRST FOR DISTINCTION. 



lag 



parentage fired his soul with a generous ambition, atid 
he longed by some heroic achievement to vindicate his 
claim to his illustrious descent. 

At the end of three years, in 1564, he left the uni- 
versity. The following year was that of the famous 
siege of Malta ; and all Christendom hung in suspense 
on the issue of the desperate conflict which a handful 
of warriors, on their lonely isle, were waging against 
the whole strength of the Ottoman empire. The 
sympathies of Don John were roused in behalf of the 
Christian knights; and he resolved to cast his own 
fortunes into the scale with theirs, and win his maiden 
laurels under the banner of the Cross. He did not 
ask the permission of his brother. That, he knew, 
would be refused to him. He withdrew secretly from 
' the court, and with only a few attendants took his way 
to Barcelona, whence an armament was speedily to sail 
to carry succor to the besieged. Everywhere on the 
route he was received with the respect due to his rank. 
At Saragossa he was lodged with the archbishop, under 
whose roof he was detained by illness. While there 
he received a letter from the king, who had learned 
the cause of his departure, commanding him to return, 
as he was altogether too young to take part in this 
desperate strife. Don John gave little heed to the 
royal orders. He pushed on to Barcelona, where he 
had the mortification to find that the fleet had sailed. 
He resolved to cross the mountains and take ship at 
Marseilles. The viceroy of Catalonia could not dis- 
suade the hot-headed youth from his purpose, when 
another despatch came from court, in which Philip, 
in a more peremptory tone than before, repeated his 



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l3o REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

orders for his brother to return, uivler pain of his 
severe displeasure, A letter from Quixada had warned 
him of the certain disgrace which awaited him if he 
continued to trifle with the royal commands. Nothing 
lemained but to obey; and Don John, disappointed in ■ 
his scheme of ambition, returned to the capital.** 

'riiis adventure caused a great sensation throughout 
the country. The young nobles and cavaliers about 
the court, fired by Don John's example, which seemed 
like a rebuke on their own sluggishness, had hastened 
to buckle on their armor and follow him to the war.'' 
The common people, peculiarly sensible in Spain to 
deeds of romantic daring, were delighted with the 
adventurous spirit of the young prince, which gave 
promise that he was one day to take his place among 
the heroes of the nation. This was the beginning of 
the popularity of John of Austria with his countrymen, 
who in time came to regard him with feelings little 
Bhor* Df idolatry. Even Philip, however necessary he 
may have thought it to rebuke the insubordination of 
his brother, must in his heart have been pleased with 
the generous spirit he had exhibited. At least, the 
favor with which he continued to regard the offender 
showed that the royal displeasure was of no long 
continuance. 

The sudden change in the condition of Don John 
might remind one of some fairy-tale, where the poor 

Q Stradn. De Bello Belgico. torn. ii. pp. 609, (■lo. — VanderhatnnKn, 
Don Juan de Auslik., fol. 34-36. — Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. Ti. 
cap. 24. 

^ " La lama de la partida de Don Juan lacA del odo a mochai 
caralleros de la Cone i Reynos, que avergon9ado9 de qiiedane en el, 
le liguieron." Cabrera. Filipe Seguodo, lac. dt. 



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HIS THIRST FOR DISTINCTION. 131 

peasant-boy finds himself all at once converted by 
enchantment into a great prince. A wiser man than 
he might well have had his head turned by such a 
rapid revolution of the wheel of fortune ; and Philip 
may naturally have feared that the idle dalliance of a 
court, to which his biother was now exposed, might 
corrupt his simple nature and seduce hira from the 
honorable path of duty. Great, therefore, must have 
been his satbfaction when he saw that, far from this, 
the elevation of the youth had only served to give a 
wider expansion to his views and to fill his bosom with 
still higher and nobler aspirations. 

The discreet conduct of Don John in regard to 
his nephew, Don Carlos, when the latter would have 
engaged him in his wild and impracticable schemes, 
established him still more firmly in the royal favor.* 

In the spring of the year 1568 an opportunity oc- 
curred for Philip to gratify his brother's ambition, by 
intrusting him with the command of a fieet then fitting 
out, in the port of Carthagena, against the Barbary 
corsairs, who had been making alarming depredations 
of late on the Spanish commerce. But, while giving 
him this appointment, the king was carefiil to supply 
the lack of experience in his brother by naming as 
second in command an officer in whose abilities he 
perfectly confided. This was Antonio de Zufiiga y 
Requcsens, grand commander of St. James, an eminent 
personage, who will come frequently before the reader 
in the progress of the narrative, Requesens, who at 
this time filled the post of ambassador at Rome, was 
possessed of the versatility of talent so important in an 
•> Antt. vsl. it book iv, ch. 6. 



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131 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES 

age when the same individual was often re((uired to 
exchange the duties of the cabinet for those of the 
camp. While Don John appeared before the public as 
the captain of the fleet, the actual responsibility for the 
conduct of the expedition rested on his lieutenant. 

On the third of June, Don John sailed out of pert, 
at the head of as brave an armament as ever floated on 
the waters of the Mediterranean. The prince's own 
vessel was a stately galley, gorgeously fitted up, and 
decorated with a profusion of paintings, the subjects 
of which, drawn chiefly from ancient history and 
mythology, were of didactic import, intended to con- 
vey some useful lesson to the young commander. The 
moral of each picture was expressed by some pithy 
maxim inscribed beneath it in Latin. Thus, to what- 
ever quarter Don John turned his eyes, they were sure 
to fall on some homily for his instruction ; so that his 
galley might be compared to a volume richly filled with 
illustrations, that serve to impress the contents on the 
reader's memory.* 

The cruise was perfectly successful ; and Don John, 
on his return to port, some eight months later, might 
boast that, in more than one engagement, he had 
humbled the pride of the corsairs, and so far crippled 
them that it would be long before they could resume 
their depredations; that, in fine, he had vindicated 
the honor of his country's flag throughout the Medi- 



^ Vanderhammen has given a minule description of this rojRl 
gaUtf, with its pictorial iliuslmtions. Among the legends emblaioned 
below them, that of " Doitim reprimtri dolo" savors strongly of tht 
politic monarch. Don Juan de Austria, fol. ■^^-^• 



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AfABE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 133 

Ilis return to Madrid was welcomed with the honors 
of a triumph. Courtier and commoner, men of all 
classes, in short, vied with each other in offering up 
the sweet incense of adulation, filling his young mind 
with loft}' visions of the future, that beckoned him 
forward in the path of glory. 

When the insurrection of the Moriscoes broke out, 
in 1568, the eyes of men naturally turned on Don John 
of Austria, as the person who would most likely be sent 
to suppress it. But Philip thought it would be safer to 
trust the command to those who, from their long resi- 
dence in the neighborhood, were better acquainted with 
the character of the country and of its inhabitants. 
When, however, the dissensions of the rival chiefs made 
it necessary to send some one invested with such powers 
as might enable him to overawe this factious spirit and 
enforce greater concert of action, the council of state 
recommended Don John to the command. Their 
recommendation was approved by the king, if indeed 
it was not originally made at his suggestion. 

Still, the "prudent" monarch was careful not to 
invest his brother with that independent command 
which the public supposed him to possess. On the 
contrary, his authority was restricted within limits 
almost as narrow as those which had curbed it in the 
Mediterragfean, A council of war was appointed, by 
whose opinions Don John was to be guided in every 
question of moment. In case of a division of opinion, 
the question was to be referred to the decision of 
Philip." 

^ " Sn oomiaion liie sin llmitacion ninguna; mas su libnitad lan 
aiada, qua de cosa grande ni pcqueita podia diaponei un comuot- 



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'34 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOBS. 



The chief members of this body, in whom the su- 
preme power was virtually lodged, were (he marquis 
of Mondejar, who from this time does not appear to 
have taken the field in person ; the duke of Sesa, 
grandson of the Great Captain, Gonsalvo de C6rdova, 
and endowed with no small portion of the miMtary 
talent of his ancestor ; the archbishop of Granada, a 
prelate possessed of as large a measure of bigotry as 
ever fell to the lot of a Spanish ecclesiastic ; Deza, 
president of the Audience, who hated the Moriscoet 
with the fierce hatred of an inquisitor ; and, finally, 
Don John's faithful ayo, Quixada, who had more in- 
fluence over him than was enjoyed by any other, and 
who had come to witness the first of his pupil's cam- 
paigns, destined, alas! to be the closing one of his 
own." 

There could hardly have been a more unfortunate 
device than the contrivance of so cumbrous a ma- 
chinery as this council, opposed as it was, from its very 
nature, to the despatch so indispensable to the success 
nf military operations. The mischief was increased by 
tiie necessity of referring every disputed point to the 
decision of the king. As this was a contingency that 
often occurred, the young prince soon found almost 33 
many embarrassments thrown in his way by his friends 
as by his foes, — embarrassments which nothWg but an 
uncommon spirit of determination on his own part 
could have overcome. 

cocioD i parecer de los Consegeros, i mandado del Rel." Mendoit, 
Guerra d« Granada, p. 139, 

3° Ibid., p. 130. el seq. — Vandethammen. Don Juan de Austria, fbt. 
Bi.— Marmol, lom. i. pp. 511-513.— VillafaOe, Vida de DoBa Magda- 
Icna de Ulloa. p. 73. — Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. ix. cof. i. 



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MADE COMMANDER- IN-CHIEF. 



'35 



On the sixth of April, 1569, Don John took leavo 
of the king, then at Aranjuez, and hastened towards 
the south. His coming was eagerly expected by the 
inhabitants of Granada: by the Christians, from their 
hopes that it would remedy the disorders in the army 
and bring the war to a speedy conclusion ; by the 
Moriscoes, from the protection they anticipated he 
would afford them against the violence of the Span* 
iards. Preparations were made in the capital for giving 
him a splendid reception. The programme of the cere- 
monies was furnished by Philip himself^ At some 
miles from the city, Don John was met by the count 
of Tendilla, at the head of a small detachment of in- 
fantry, wearing uniforms partly of the Castilian fashion, 
partly of the Morisco, — presenting aJtogether a strange 
and picturesque spectacle, in which silks, velvets, and 
rich embroidery floated gayly amidst the iron mail and 
burnished weapons of the warrior." As the prince 
proceeded along his route, he was met by a long train 
of ecclesiastical and civic functionaries, followed by 
the principal cavaliers and citizens of Granada, At 
their head were the archbishop and the president, the 
latter of whom was careful to assert his rank by walk- 
ing on the right of the prelate. Don John showed 
them both the greatest deference ; and, as they drew 
near, he dismounted from his horse, and, embracing 
the two churchmen, stood with hat in hand, for some 

i> " Yn el Presidenle tenia orden de su M^cstad de laqueiebabia 
de lener en el recibimienio de su hermano." Marmol, Rebelion dn 
Granada, tain. <i. p. 17. 

)• " lie manera que enire g»1a y guerra 'ladan henntsa r ^firadabls 
Tiita." tbid,, ubl supra. 



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ijfi REBELLION OP THE MOSISCOES. 

moments, while conversing with them." Astheir triun 
came up, the president presented the most eminent 
persons to the prince, who received them with that 
frank and graceful courtesy which won the hearts of 
all who approached him. He then resumed his route, 
escorted on either side by the pre^dent and the arch- 
bishop. The neighboring fields were covered with 
spectators, and on the plains of B6yro he found a 
large body of troops, not less than ten thousand, drawn 
up to receive him. As he approached, they greeted 
him with salvoes of musketry, delivered with admirable 
precision. As Don John glanced over their beautiful 
array and beheld their perfect discipline and appoint- 
ments, his eyes brightened and his cheek Hushed with 
a soldier's pride. 

Hardly had he entered the gates of Granada when 
he was surrounded by a throng of women, who gath* 
cred about him in an attitude of supplication. They 
were the widows, the mothers, and the daughters of 
those who had so miserably perished in the massacres 
of the Alpujarras. They were clad in mourning, some 
of them so scantily as too plainly to reveal their pov- 
erty. Falling on their knees, with tears streaming from 
their eyes, and their words rendered almost inarticu- 
late by their sobs, they demanded justice, — ^justice on 
the murderers of their kindred. They had seen their 
friends fall, they said, beneath the blows of their ex- 
ecutioners; but the pain with which their hearts wert 

SJ " El qu.Tl \o recibifi muy bien. y con el sombrero en el mano, y 
Ic tuvo un rato abrazado. Y apanandose i un lado, lleg6 el Ano- 
Uqio, y liiio lo mismo con &" Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, looi. 



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31ADE COMMANDER-IN-CHIEF. 



137 



then rent was not so great as vhat they now felt on 
learning that the cruel acts of these miscreants were to 
go unpunished." Don John endeavored to calm their 
agitation by expressions of the deepest sympathy for 
their misfortunes, — expressions of which none who saw 
his countenance could doubt the truth ; and he prom- 
ised that he would do all in his power to secure them 
iustice. 

A livelier scene awaited htm as the procession held 
its way along the streets of the ancient capital. Every- 
where the houses were gayly decorated with tapestries 
of cloth of gold. The multitude who thronged the 
avenues Ailed the air with their loyal acclamations. 
Bright eyes glanced from balconies and windows, whera 
the noblest matrons and maidens of Granada, in rich 
attire, were gathered to look upon the splendid pageant 
and the young hero who was the object of it." In this 
state he moved along until he reached the palace of 
. the Royal Audience, where, by the king's command, 
apartments had been sumptuously fitted up for his 
accommodation .* 

N " Qae no alnlieron tanto dolor con otr los crudes golpes de lai 
■nnas cdd que los hereges los mataban deUosjri sushijos. hermanos 
■J paiieaUx, como el que sienlen ea ver que ban dc ser perdonados." 
Maimol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. p, 19. — Prom this it would 
«eem that the love of revenge was a stronger feeling with Ihese Chris- 
tian women than the love of friends. - 

39 " Y mas galas f regocijos, porque eslaban las ventanas de lai 
calles, por donde babia de pasar, entoldadas de pailos de oro y seda. 
f mucho numero de damas y doncellas nobles en ellas. ricamenie 
•taviadaa, que habian acudido de toda la ciudad por verle." Ibid., 
nbi supnu 

* Ibid., pp. 17-19.— Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, foL 83^ 
•—Uendoia, Guerra de Granada, p, 133. 
ia« 



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138 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

The following day, a deputation waited on Don John 
from the principal Moriscoes of the city, claiming his 
protection against the injuries and insults to which they 
were exposed whenever they went abroad. They com- 
plained especially of the Spanish troops quartered on 
them, and of the manner in which they violated the 
sanctity of their dwellings by the foulest outr^es. 
Don John replied in a tone that expressed little of the 
commiseration which he had shown to the female peti- 
tioners on the preceding day. He told the Moriscoes 
that he had been sent to restore order to Granada, and 
thatthose who had proved loyal would find themselves 
protected in all their rights. Those, on the contrary, 
who had taken part in the late rebellion would be chas- 
tised with unsparing rigor.'' He directed them to state 
their grievances in a memorial, with a caution to set 
down nothing which they could not prove, or it would 
go hard with them. The unfortunate Moriscoes found 
that they were to expect such justice only as comes from 
the hand of an enemy. 

The first session of the council showed how defective 
was the system for conducting the war. In the dis- 
cussions that ensued, Mondejar remarked that the con- 
test, in his opinion, was virtually at an end ; that the 
Moriscoes, for the most part, were in so favorable a 
yiiood that he would undertake, if the affair were placed 
in his hands, to bring them all to submission in a very 
short time. This proposal was treated with contempt 
by the haughty president, who denounced them as a 

» " Juntamenle run usar de equidad y clemencia con los que lo 
mcrecieren. los que no hubieren sido tales serdn caatifiados con gran 
dltiiao rigor." Monnol, Rcbelion de Granada, lom. ii. p. al. 



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MADE COMMANDERIN-CHIEF. 139 

false-hearted race, on whose promises no one could 
rely. The war, h« said, would never be ended so long 
OS the Moriscoes of the capital were allowed to com- 
municate with their countrymen in the mountains and 
to furnish them with secret intelligence respecting what 
was passing in the Christian camp. The first step was 
to remove them all from Granada into the interior ; the 
second, to make such an example of the miscreants who 
had perpetrated the massacres in the Alpujarras as 
should strike terror into the hearts of the infidels and 
deter them from any further resistance to authority. 
In this division of opinion the members took different 
sides according to the difference of their tempers. 
The commander-in-chief and Quixada both leaned to 
Mondejar's opinion. After a protracted discussion, it 
became necessary to refer the question to the king, who 
was by no means distinguished for the promptness with 
which he came to his conclusions. All this required 
much time, during which active operations could not 
be resumed." 

Yet Don John did not pass it idly. He examined 
the state of the works in Granada and its neighbor- 
hood J he endeavored to improve the condition of the 
army, and to quell the spirit of insubordination which 
had risen in some portions of it ; finally, he sent his 
commands for enforcing levies, not merely in Anda- 
lusia and the adjoining provinces, but in Castile. The 
appeal was successful ; and the great lords in the south, 
more particularly, gathering their retainers, hastened 

3* Mumol. RebelioD de Granada, tom. ii. pp. 33, 34. — Vandei' 
huDmen. Don Juan de Austria, Tol. 85. — Cabrera, Fllipe Sc^ndo. 
lib. ix. cap. i — Herrera, Historia general, torn. i. pp. 744, 745. 



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«40 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

to Granada, to draw their swords under this popular 
chieftain.' 

Meanwhile, the delay was attended with most mis- 
chievous consequences, as it gave the enemy time to 
recover from the disasters of the previous campaign. 
Aben-Huraeya liad returned, as we have seen in the 
former chapter, to his mountain -throne, where he soon 
found himself in greater strength than before. Even 
the " Moriscoes of the peace," as they were called, 
who had resumed their allegiance to the crown, exas- 
perated by the outrages of the Spanish soldiery and the 
contempt which they showed for the safe-conduct of 
the marquis of Mondejar, now came in great numbers 
to Aben-Humeya's camp, offering their services and 
promising to stand by him to the last. Other levies he 
drew from Africa, The Moslem princes to whom he 
had applied for succor, though refusing to embark 
openly in his cause, as he had desired, allowed such of 
their subjects as chose to join his standard. In conse- 
quence, a considerable body of Barbary Moors crossed 
the sea and entered into the service of the Morisco 
chief. They were a fierce, intrepid race, accustomed 
to a life of wild adventure, and possessing a better 
acquaintance with military tactics than belonged to the 
Spanish mountaineers.*' 

While strengthened by these recruits, Aben-Humeya 

n Mendoza, Guerra de Granada, p. 141. — Vanderhammen, Don 
)uan de Austria, fol. 85.— Marmol, Rebelion de Graaada, torn. ii. p. 
a?. — Cabrera, Filipe Sepirdo, lib. ix. cap. 1. 

"The historian of the Morisco rebellion leilsns thai these AfHcam 
vore garlands round their heads, intimating their purpose to conquer 
or ID die lilte nanyrs in defence of their ^Ih. Mannol, Rebelion d* 
Qrajiada, lorn ii. p. 73. 



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fHE WAR RENEWED. 141 

drew a mucli larger revenue than fonnerly from his 
more extended domains,*" Though showy and ex- 
pensive in his tastes, he did not waste it all on the 
maintenance of the greater state which he now assumed 
in his way of livmg. He employed it freely in the 
pay of foreign levies, and in procuring arms and muni- 
tions for his own troops ; and he profited by his expe- 
rience in the last campaign, and by the example of his 
African mercenaries, to introduce a belter system of 
tactics among his Morisco warriors. The policy he 
adopted, as before, was to avoid pitched battles, and f 
confine himself chiefly to the guerilla warfare better 
suited to the genius of the mountaineer. He felt on 
small detachments of Spaniards wh.3 were patrolling 
the country, cut off the convoys, and thus greatly 
straitened the garrisons in their supplies. He made 
forays into the Christian territories, penetrating even 
into the vega, and boldly carried the war up to the 
walls of Granada. 

His ravages in this quarter, it is true, did not con- 
tinue long after the arrival of Don John, who took 
effectual measures for protecting the capital from insult. 
But the prince was greatly chagrined by seeing the 
rapid extension of the Morisco domain. Yet he could 
take no decisive measures to check it until the council 
had determined on some plan of operations. He was 
moreover fettered by the king's orders not to take tho 

4> Be'iides a tenlh of tbe produce of (he soil, one source of hi* 
levepue, we are told, was the confiscaled property of such Moriscoei 
u Teliued to yield him obedience. Another was a liflh of rhe spoil 
taken from the enemy. Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. p. 35. 
— AIm Meodoia, Guerra de Gnmaila. p. lao. 



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I4» 



REBELLIOff OF THE MORISCOES. 



field in person, but to remain and represent him in 
Granada, where he would find enough to do in regu- 
lating the affairs and providing for the safety of the 
city,* Philip seems to have feared that Don John'i 
adventurous spirit would lead him to some rash act, 
that might unnecessarily expose him to danger. He 
appears, indeed, as we may gather from numerous pa."- 
sages in his letters, to have been more concerned for 
the safety of his brother than for the success of tho 
campaign.** He may have thought, too, that it was 
better to trust the war to the hands of the veteran 
chief, the marquis of Los Velez, who could boast so 
much larger experience than Don John, and who had 
possessed the king with a high idea of his military 
talents. 

This nobleman still held the command of the country 
east of the Alpujarras, in which lay his own large prop- 
erty. He had, as we have seen, a hard and arrogant 
nature, which could ill brook the paramount authority 
of the young commander-in-chief, to whom he rarely 
condescended to write, preferring to make his commu- 
nications directly to the king.** Philip, prompted by 

»"Y la vuestra, ya yo os diie que la queria para cosas majores, 
f que all agoia yo no os embiaba. i las de la guerra sino i eia ciudad 
i dar desde ella la orden en todo que conhiniese : Puea yo por olras 
ocupacionei y cartas no la podia baiei." Carta del Rey i. Doa Juaa 
de Austria, !□ de Mayo, 1569, MS. 

« Dan John seems 10 have chafed under the restricllons imposed 
on him by the king. At least we may infer so Irom a rebuke of 
Philip, who tells bis brother that, " though lor the great love he beats 
him he will overlook such language this lime, it will not tw well (or 
lijm 10 repeat it." Carta del Rey d Don Juan de Austria, ao de 
Mayo, 1569, MS. 

u Vauderbammen, Don Juan de Austria, fbl. 94.— Maimol, vitb 



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THE WAR RENEWED. 



M3 



his appetite for power, winked at this inegular pro- 
ceeding, which enabled him to take a more direct part 
in the management of affairs than he could otherwise 
have done. It was a most injudicious step, and w:is 
followed, as we shall see, by disastrous consequences. 

The marquis, without waiting for orders, resolved to 
open the campaign by penetrating into the Alpujarras 
with the small force he had under his command. But 
a body of some four hundred troops, which he had 
caused to occupy the pass of Ravaha, was cut off by the 
enemy ; and the haughty chieftain reluctantly obeyed 
the orders of Don John to abandon his design. Aben* 
Humeya's success encouraged him to attack the marquis 
in his new quarters at Verja. It was a well-concerted 
enterprise, but unfortunately, before the time arrived 
for its execution, it was betrayed by a prisoner to the 
Spanish commander. It consequently failed. Aben- 
Humeya penetrated into the heart of the town, where 
he found himself in the midst of an ambuscade, and 
with difficulty, after a heavy loss, effected his retreat. 
But if the victory remained with the Spaniards, the 
fruits of it fell to the Moriscoes. The spirit shown by 
the Moslem prince gave new life to his countrymen, 
and more than counterbalanced the effects of his de- 
feat. The rich and populous country of the Rio de 
Almanzora rose in arms. The marquis of Los Velez 
found it expedient to abandon his present position, and 

one ot two vigorous emps dt pinaait, give* Ihe portnut of the mai- 
quil: " No se podia determinar qual era en & majror oitremo. sa 
ofaeno, valentia y discrecion. 6 la an-ogancla y ambiclon de honra, 
aoompaflada de aspeieiade condicion." Rebellon de Giaiiada,tom. 



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H4 REBELLION OF TUB MORJSCOES. 

to transfer his quarters to Adra, a sea-port on the Medi- 
terranean, which would afford him greater facilities fm 
receiving reinforcements and supplies.* 

The spirit of insurrection now spread rapidly over 
other parts of the Alpujarras, and especially along the 
sierra of Beotomiz, which stretches from the neighbor- 
hood of Alhama towards the south. Here the moun- 
taineers, who had hitherto taken no part in the troubles 
of the country, ranging themselves under the crim«on 
banner of Aben-Humeya, broke forth into open rebel- 
lion. The inhabitants of Velez and of the more im- 
portant city of Malaga were filled with consternation, 
trembling lest the enemy should descend on them from 
the mountains and deluge their streets with blood. 
They hastily mustered the militia of the country, and 
made preparations for their defence. 

Fortunately, at this conjuncture, they were gladdened 
by the sight of the Grand Commander Requesens, who 
sailed into the harbor of Velet Malaga with a squadron 
from Italy, having on board several battalions of Span- 
ish veterans who had been ordered home by the govern- 
ment to reinforce the army of the Alpujarras. There 
were no better troops in the service, seasoned as they 
were by many a hard campaign, and all under the most 
perfect discipline. The first step of Requesens — the 
same officer, it will be remembered, who had acted as 
the lieutenant of Don John of Austria in his cruise in 
the Mediterranean — was to request of his young general 
the command of the expedition against the rebels of 

4s Mannol. Rebetion de Granada, torn. ii. p. 73. d seq. — Vui- 
derhanimeii, Don Joan de Austria, tol. 94.— Mendoia. Guena d* 
Granada, p. 175. et seq.— Miniana, Hisloria de Espalla, p. 377. 



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THE WAR RENEWED. 



»4S 



Bentomiz. These were now gathered in great force 
on the lofty table-land of Fraxiiiana, where they had 
strengthened the natural defences of the ground by 
such works as rendered the approach to it nearly im- 
practicable. The request was readily granted ; and the 
grand commander of Si. James, without loss of time, 
led his battalions into the heart of the sierra. 

We have not space for the details. It is enough to 
say that the expedition was one of the best-conducted 
in the war. The enemy made a desperate resistance ; 
and, had it not been for the timely arrival of the bold 
burghers of Malaga, the grand commander would have 
been driven from the field. The Morisco women fought 
by the side of their husbands ; and, when all was lost, 
many threw themselves headlong from the precipices 
rather than fall into the hands of the Spaniards." Two 
thousand of the enemy were slain ; and three thousand 
captives, with an immense booty of gold, silver, jewels, 
and precious stuffs, became the spoil of the victors. 
The spirit of rebellion was effectually crushed in the 
sierra of Bentomiz. 

Yet it was not a bloodless victory. Full six hundred 
of the Christians fell on the field of battle. The loss 
bore most heavily on the troops from Italy. Nearly 
every captain in this valiant corps was wounded.* 
The bloody roll displayed, moreover, the name of more 
than one cavalier as distinguished for his birth as for his 
bravery. Two thousand Moriscoes succeeded in making 

4> <■ Quanda TJenia et fiierte perdido, sc despeflaron por tas pefiai 
TTias agrias. quiriendo mat morir bedias pedaios, que Tenir en poder 
de Chrisiianos." Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, lom, li, p, Eg. 

1 " Cast todos los capitanes." Ibid., loc. ell. 
Philip.— Vol. III.— g 13 



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146 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

their escape to the camp of Aben-Humeya. They 
proved a seasonable reinforcement ; for that chief waa 
meditating an assault on Seron.^ 

This was a strongly-fortified place, perched like an 
eagle's e)Ty on the summit of a bold cliff that looked 
down on the Rio de Almanzora and commanded its 
formidable passes. It was consequently a most impor- 
tant post, and at this time was hield by a Spanish gar- 
rison under an officer named Mirones. Aben-Humeya 
sent a strong detachment against it, intending to carry 
it by storm. But the Moriscoes had no battering-train, 
and, as it soon appeared, were little skilled in the art 
of conducting a siege. It was resolved, therefore, to 
abandon the present plan of operations, and to reduce 
the place by the slower but surer way of blockade. 
Five thousand men, accordingly, sat down before the 
town on the eighteenth of June, and effectually cut off 
all communication from abroad. 

The garrison succeeded in conveying intelligence of 
their condition to Don John, who lost no time in order- 
ing Alonso de Carbajal to march with a body of troops 
and a good supply of provisions to their relief. But 

<■ The fierce encounter at Fraiiliana Is given in great detail by 
Mendoia (Guerra de Granada, pp. 165-169} and Marmol (Rebelion 
de Granada, lom. il. pp. S6-90). No field oT fighl was better con- 
tested during the war; and both historiaiks bear testimony to the 
extraordinary valor of the Moriscoes. worthy of the best days of the 
Arabian empire. Philip, while he commends the generous aidot 
shown by the grand commander in the expedition, condemns liim toT 
having quilled his fleet to engage in it: " El comendador mayor tuira 

y lu intencion, mas salir su persona en tierra. leniendo en vuestii 
3, fu4 cosa digna de muclia reprelieosion." 



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THE WAR REtfEWED. 147 

just after his departure Don John received information 
that the king had intrusted the martiuis of Los Velei 
with the defence of Seron, He therefore, by Qui- 
xada's advice, countermanded his orders to Carl>ajal, 
and directed him to return. That officer, who had 
approached within a short distance of the place, reluc 
tantly obeyed, and left Seron to its fate. The marquis 
of Los Velez, notwithstanding the jealousy he displayed 
of the interference of Don John in the affair, showed 
so little alacrity in providing for the safety of the 
beleaguered fortress that the garrison, reduced to ex- 
tremity, on the eleventh of July surrendered on honor- 
able terms. But no sooner had they given up the place 
than the victors, regardless of the terms of capitula- 
tion, murdered in cold blood every male over twelve 
years of age, and made slaves of the women and chil- 
dren. This foul act was said to have been perpetrated 
by the secret command of Aben-Humeya. The Mo- 
risco chief might allege, in vindication of his perfidy, 
that he had but followed the lesson set him by the 
Spaniards.* 

The loss of Seron caused deep regret to the army. 
Nor could this regret be mitigated by the reflection that 
its loss was to be attributed not so much to the valor 
of the Moslems as to the misconduct of their own com- 
manders, or rather to the miserable system adopted for 
carrying on the war. The triumph of the Moriscoes, 
however, was greatly damped by the intelligence which 
they had received, shortly before the surrender of 

* Mumo), Rebelion de Granada, torn. iL pp. 108-111. — Fen^rai, 
Hist. d'Espngne. lom. x. pp. 83, 84. — Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib 



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148 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

Seron, of disasters that had befallen their countrymen 
ill Granada. 

Philip, after much hesitation, had given his sanction 
to Deta's project for the removal of the Moriscoea 
from the capital into the interior of the country. The 
day appointed for carrying the measure into effect waj 
the twenty-third of June. A large body of troops, 
with the principal commanders, was secretly assembled 
in the capiul, to enforce the execution of the plan. 
Meanwhile, rumors were current that the Moriscoes in 
the city were carrying on a secret communication with 
their countrymen in the Alpujarras ; that they supplied 
the mountaineers with arms and money; that the young 
men were leaving Granada to join their ranks ; finally, 
that a conspiracy had been planned for an assault on 
the city, and even that the names of the leaders were 
given. It is impossible, at this time, to say what foun- 
dation there was for these charges; but the reader may 
recollect that similar ones had been circulated pro 
vious to the barbarous massacre in the prison of the 
Chancery. 

On the twenty-third of the month, on the eve of St. 
John's, an edict was published, commanding all the 
Morisco males in Granada between ten and sixty years 
of age to repair to the parish churches to which they 
respectively belonged, where they were to learn their 
fate. The women were to remain some time longer in 
the city, to dispose of the most valuable effects, such 
as could not easily be transported. This was not diffi- 
cult, at the low prices for which, in their extremity, 
they were obliged to part with their property. We are 
left in ignorance of the fate of the children, who, no 



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REMOVAL OF THE MOXISCOES. 149 

doubt, remained in the hands of the government, to be 
nurttired in the Roman Catholic faith,*" 

Nothing could exceed the consternation of the Moris- 
coes on the publication of this decree, for which, though 
so long suspended by a thread, as it were, over their 
heads, they were wholly unprepared. It is not strange, 
as they recalled the atrocious murders perpetrated in 
the prison of the Chancery, that they should have been 
led to believe that nothing less than a massacre of the 
whole Moorish population was now designed. It was 
in vain that the marquis of Mondejar endeavored to 
allay their fears. They were somewhat comforted by 
the assurance of the President Deza, given under his 
own hand, that their lives were in no danger. But 
their apprehensions on this point were not wholly 
quieted till Don John had pledged his royal word that 
no harm should come to their persons, — that, in short, 
the great object of the government was to secure their 
safety. They then submitted without any attempt at 
resistance. Resistance, indeed, would have been hardly 
possible, destitute as they were of weapons or other 
means of defence, and surrounded on all quarters by 
the welUanned soldiery of Castile. They accordingly 
entered the churches assigned to them, at the doors of 
which strong guards were stationed during the night. 

On the following morning the Moriscoes were marched 
out and formed into a procession, which was to take its 

)B Mendoia, Guerra de Oranada, p. 146. — Mannol, Rebelion de 
Graoada, torn. li. p. 100, — Bleda (Cronica de Espafia, p. 705). In thii 
part of hii work, has done nothing more than transcribe die pagei of 
Mendou, and that in so blunderiiie a style as to mistake the date of 
this event bjr a month. 



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150 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

way to the great hospital in the suburbs. This was a 
noble building, erected by the good Queen Isabella the 
Catholic, not long after the Conquest. Here they were 
to stay till the arrangements were completed for form- 
ing them into divisions according to their several places 
of destination. It was a sad and solemn spectacle, that 
of this company of exiles, as they moved with slow and 
uncertain step, bound together by cords,** and escorted, 
or rather driven along like a gang of convicts, by the 
fierce soldiery. There they were, the old and the young, 
the rich and the poor, now, alas ! brought to the same 
level, the forms of most of them bowed down, less by 
the weight of years than of sorrow, their hands meekly 
folded on their breasts, their cheeks wet with tears, as 
they gazed for the last time on their beautiful city, the 
Eweet home of their infancy, the proud seat of ancient 
empire, endeared to them by so many tender and glo- 
rious recollections." 

The march was conducted in an orderly manner, with 
but a single interruption, which, however, was near 
being attended by the most disastrous consequences. 
A Spanish alguazil, offended at some words that fell 
from one of the prisoners, — for so they might be 
called, — requited them with a blow from his staff. 
But the youth whom he struck had the fiery blood of 

f> " Pueslos en la cuerda, eon fuarda de inbnteria 1 caToUerla pot 
una I Qtra parte." Mendoia. Guerra de Grosada, p. 147. 

»■ "Fue un miserable espectaculo," »ay» an eye-witnea», " rer lantoi 
faombres de lodas edades, las cabeias baxas, las manos cmiadai jr 1m 
roslroi baOados de lagrimas, con semblance dolotoso y triste, viendo 
que dexaban sus regaladas casas, sus bmflias, su patria, r lanto biea 
como tenian, y auD no sabian cierto lo que sc faaiia de >us caboai.'' 
If aimol. Rebeljon de Granada, torn. ii. p. 103. 



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REMOVAL OF THE MORISCOES. 



i5> 



the Arab in his veins. Snatching up a broken tile, ho 
dealt such a blow on the ofTender's head as nearly 
severed his ear from it. The act cost him his life. 
He was speedily cut down by the Spaniards, who 
rushed to the assistance of their wounded comrade. 
A rumor now went round that the Moriscoes had 
attempted the life of Don John, whose dress resembled 
in its color that of the alguazil. The passions of the 
soldiery were roused. They flocked to the scene of 
violence, uttering the most dreadful imprecations. 
Their swords and lances glittered in the air, and in a 
few moments would have been sheathed in the bodies 
of their terrified victims. 

Fortunately, the quick eye of Don John discerned 
the confusion. Surrounded by a body-guard of arque- 
busicrs, he was there in person to superintend the 
removal of the Moriscoes. Spurring his horse forward 
into the midst of the tumult, and showing himself to 
the troops, he exclaimed thit no one had offered him 
any harm. He called on them to return to their duty, 
and not to dishonor him, as well as themselves, by 
offering violence to innocent men, for whose protection 
he had so solemnly pledged his word. The soldiers, 
abashed by the rebuke of their young chief, and satis- 
fied with the vengeance they had taken on the offender, 
fell back into their ranks. The trembling Moriscoes 
gradually recovered from their panic, the procession 
resumed its march, and without further interruption 
reached the hospital of Isabella.'' 

There the royal contadores were not long in ascer* 
'a Mumol, Rebelion de Granada, lom. li. p. 103. — Mer.doia, Guerra 
1, p. 147,— Bolh historians were present oa this ocoasioo. 



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iSa 



REBELLION OF THE MCRISCOES. 



taining the number of the exiles. It amounted tu 
thirty-five hundred. That of the women, who were 
soon to follow, was much greater.^ The names, the 
ages, and the occupations of the men were all carefully 
registered.' The following day they were marched into 
the great square before the hospital, where they were 
distributed into companies, each under a strong escort, 
to be conducted to their various places of destination. 
These, far from being confined to Andalusia, reached 
into New Castile. In this arrangement we may trust 
that so much respect was paid to the dictates of hu- 
manity as not to separate those of the same kindred 
from one another. But the chroniclers give no informa- 
tion on the subject, — probably regarding details of this 
sort in regard to the fallen race as below the dignity 
of history. 

It was on the twenty-fifth of June, 1569, that, bidding 
a sad farewell to the friends and companions of their 
youth, from whom they were now to be forever parted, 
they set forth on their doleful pilgrimage. The morn- 
ing light had broken on the red towers of the Alhambra, 
as the bands of exiles, issuing from the gates of their 
beloved capital, the spot dearest to them upon earth, 
turned their faces towards their new homes, — homes 
which many of them were destined never to behold. 
The government, with shameful indifference, had neg- 
lected to provide for the poor wanderers the most 
common necessaries of life. Some actually perished 
of hunger by the way. Others, especially those accus- 
tomed from infancy to a delicate nurture, sank down 

!* " Los que saJleron por lodos tres mil i quiniealoi, et nnmero lie 
mugerea mucho mayor." Mendoza, Guerra de Granada, p. I|7. 



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REMOVAL OF THE MORISCOES. 



'S3 



and died of fatigue. Some were seized by the soldiers, 
whose cupidity was roused by the sight of their help- 
lessness, and were sold as slaves. Others were mur- 
dered by their guards in cold blood." Thus reduced 
far below their original number, they reached their 
appointed places, there to linger out the remainder of 
their days in the midst of a population who held them 
in that abhorrence with which a good Catholic of the 
sixteenth century regarded "the enemies of God."* 

But the evils which grew out of this stem policy of 
the government were not wholly confined to the Moris- 
coes. This ingenious people were so far superior to the 
Spaniards in the knowledge of husbandry and in the 
various mechanic arts that they formed the most im- 
portant part of the population of Granada. The only 
art in which their rivals excelled them was that which 
thrives at the expense of every other, — the art of war. 
Aware of this, the government had excepted some of 
the best artisans in the capital from the doom of exile 
which had fallen on their countrymen, and they liad 
accordingly remained in the city. But their number 
was too small to produce the result desired ; and it was 
not long before the quarter of the town which had been 
occupied by the Moriscoes exhibited a scene of woeful 
desolation. The light and airy edifices, which dis- 
played in their forms the fantastic graces of Arabian 

H " Mucboi mniieron por loi caminos de tisbajo. de cansancio, de 
pesar, de hambre ; a hierro, poi mano de los mismos que los havian 
de guaidar, rabados. vendidos por caulivos." Mendoza, Guena d« 
Granada, p. 148. 

* " Los enemigoE de IMos," — the charitable phrase by which Morb. 
coes, as well as Moois, came dow to b« denominated bj tbe Chil» 



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»S4 



RUB&LLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



architecture, fell speedily into decay. The parterres 
and pleasure-grounds, filled with exotics and glowing 
in all the exuberance of southern vegetation, became 
a wilderness of weeds ; and the court-yards and public 
squares, where tarfks ajid sparkling fountains, fed by 
the streams of the Sierra Nevada, shed a refreshing 
coolness over the atmosphere in the sultriest months 
of summer, were soon converted into a melancholy 
heap of rubbish. 

The mischiefs growing out of the removal of the 
Moriscocs fell sorely on the array. The men had been 
quartered, as we have seen, in the houses of the Moris- 
coes. From the present occupants, for the most part 
needy and thriftless speculators, they met with very 
different fare from what they had enjoyed under the 
former wealthy and luxurious proprietors. The troops 
supplied the deficiency, as far as they could, by plunder- 
ing the citizens. Hence incessant feuds arose between 
the people and the army, and a spirit of insubordina- 
tion rapidly grew up in the latter, which made it more 
formidable to its friends than to its foes.' 

An eye-witness of these troubles closes his narrative 
of the removal of the Moriscoes by remarking that it 
was a sad spectacle to one who reflected on the former 
policy and prosperity of this ill-starred race ; who had 
seen their sumptuous mansions in the day of their 
glory, their gardens and pleasure-grounds, the scene ' 
of many a gay revel and jocund holiday, and who now 
contrasted all this with the ruin into which every thing 
had fallen.* "It seems," he concludes, "as if Provi- 



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REMOVAL OF THE MORISCOES. 



ISS 



dence had intended to show, by the fate of this beautiful 
city, that the fairest things in this world are the most 
subject to decay."" To the philosopher of the present 
sge it may seem rather the natural result of that system 
of religious intolerance which had convened into ene- 
mies those who, under a beneficent rule, would have 
been true and loyal subjects, and who by their industry 
and skill would have added incalculably to the resources 
of the country. 

tnanei j guertu. donde lot 
uatjetnpos. ^ dode i pocoa 

dial Id vierOD todo asolado j destruido." Maimol, RebelioD de 

Gnuuda, torn. U. p. 104. 
* " Paiecia blen ealar sujeta aquella. fellcitima dudad i. tal dntnii- 

doD, pani que ae entienda que las cosai mu esplendidas 1 floridai 

entre ta gente utdn nuu ^Mrqadai i, lot Kolpet de foTtuna." Hai- 

nol, nbl nipn. 



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CHAPTER VI. 

REBELLION OP THE MORISCOES. 

OpenUkHU of Lo* Velez. — Consfniacy agsinsl Aben-Humejra. — His 
Assassitiation. — Election of Aben-Aboo.— Vigorous Prosecution of 
the Wai.— Fierce Combats in the Vega.— Impetuous Spiril of Don 
jobn. — Suiprlw of Guejar. 

1569. 

While the events related in the preceding chapter 
were occurring, the marquis of Los Velez lay, with a 
considerable force, at Adra, a port on the Mediterra- 
nean, at the foot of the Alpujarras, which he had 
selected chiefly from the facilities it would afford hira 
for getting supplies for his army. In this he was dis- 
appointed. Before the month of June had expired, his 
troops had begun to be straitened for provisions. The 
evil went on increasing from day to day. His levies, 
composed chiefly of raw recruits from Andalusia, were 
full of that independent and indeed turbulent spirit 
which belongs to an ill-disciplined militia. There was 
no lack of courage in the soldiery. But the same men 
who had fearlessly braved the dangers of the campaign, 
now, growing impatient under the pinch of hunger, 
abandoned their colors in great numbers. 

There were various causes for the deficiency of sup- 
plies. The principal one of these may probably be 
found in the remissness of the council of war, several 
("56) 



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OPERATIONS OF LOS VELEZ. 



»57 



of whose members regarded the marquis with an evil 
eye and were not sorry to see his embarrassments. 

Some vigorous measures were instantly to be taken, 
or the army, it was evident, would soon altogether melt 
away. By the king's command, orders were despatched 
to Requesens, who lay with his squadron off the port 
of Velez Malaga, to supply the camp with provisions, 
while it received reinforcements, as before, principally 
from the Andalusian militia. The army received a 
still more important accession in the well-disciplined 
veterans who had followed the grand commander from 
Italy. Thus strengthened, and provisioned for a week 
or more, Los Velez, at the head of twelve thousand 
men, set forth on the twenty-sixth of July and struck 
at once into the Alpujarras. He had been directed by 
the council to establish himself at XJgijar, which by its 
central position would enable him to watch the move- 
ments of Aben-Humeya and act on any point as occasion 
required. 

The marquis, without difficulty, defeated a force of 
some five or six thousand men who had been stationed 
to oppose his entrance into the mountain -country. He 
then pressed forward, and on the high lands beyond 
Ugijar — which place he had already occupied — he came 
in sight of Aben-Humeya, with the flower of his troops, 
drawn up to receive him. 

The two chiefs, in their characters, their persons, 
and their equipments, might be considered as no bad 
types of the European and the Arab chivalry. The 
marquis, sheathed in complete mail of a sable color, 
and mounted on his heavy war-horse also covered with 
armor, was to be seen brandishing a lance which, short 
Philip.— Vol. III. 14 



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158 REBELLION OF THE JtOX/SCOES. 

ind thick, seemed rather like a truncheon, as he led hii 
men boldly on, prepared to plunge at once into the 
thick of the fight.' He was the very emblem of brute 
force. Aben-Humeya, on the other hand, gracefully 
managing his swift-footed snow-white Andalusian, with 
his MorisfX) mantle of crimson floating lightly from his 
shoulders, and his Turkish turban wreathed around his 
head,* instead of force, suggested the opposite ideas of 
agility and adroitness, so characteristic of the children 
of the East. 

Riding along his lines, the Morisco prince exhorted 
his followers not to fear the name of Los Velez ; for in 
the hour of danger God would aid his own ; and better 
was it, at any rate, to die like brave men in the field, 
than to live dishonored.* Notwithstanding these mag* 
nanimous words, it was far from Aben-Humeya's wish to 
meet his enemy in a fair field of fight. It was contrary 
to the genius and the habit of his warfare, which was 
of the guerilla kind, abounding in sallies and surprises, 
in which, seeking some vulnerable point, he could deal 
his blow and retreat precipitately among the mountains. 

Yet his followers, though greatly inferior in numbers 
to the enemy, behaved with spirit ; and the field was 

■ " Annajlo de utias armas negra^ de la color del acero, y ann eelada 
en la cabe^a llena de plumages, y una gruesa lanza en la mano tnat 
teda que larga." Marmol. Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. p. 133. 

■"Andaba Abeo Umeya vistoso delaate de todos en un caballo 
bianco con una aljuba de grana vestJda, j ua (urtianle turquesco en 
la cabeia." Ibid., p. 134. 

3 " No lemiesen el vano nombre del Marqtiei de los Velei, porqus 
en los mayores irabajos acudia Dios i los suyos ; j quando les fiUtase, 
BO ita podria lallar una honrosa muerte con las armas ea la* maoo^ 
que les estaba mejor que vivir desbanrados." Ibid., p. 134. 



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OPERATIONS OF LOS VELEZ. 



»59 



wdi contested, till a body of Andalusian horse, making 
a ditmtr under cover of some rising ground, fell unex- 
pectedly on the rear of tha Moriscoes and threw them 
into confusion. The marquis pressing them at the same 
time vigorously in front, they broke, and soon gave way 
on all sides. Aben-Humeya, perceivmg the day lost, 
gave the rein to his high-mettled genet, who swiftly 
bore him from the field ; and, though hotly pursued, 
he soon left his enemies behind. On reaching the foot 
of the Sierra Nevada the chief dismounted, and, ham- 
stringing his noble animal, plunged into the depths of 
the mountains, which again opened their friendly arms 
to receive him.* Yet he did not remain there long 
before he was joined by his followers ; and no sooner 
was he in sufGcient strength than he showed himself on 
the eastern skirts of the sierra, whence, like an eagle 
stooping on his prey, he rushed down upon the plains 
below, sweeping through the rich valley of the Rio de 
Almanzora, and carrying fire and sword to the very 
borders of Murcia. Here he revenged himself on Los 
Velez by falling on his town of Las Cuevas, firing his 
dwellings, ravaging his estates, and rousing his Morisco 
vassals to rebellion,' 

Meanwhile, the marquis, instead of following up his 
victory, remained torpid within the walls of Calahorra. 
Here he had desired the council to provide stores for 
the subsistence of his army. To his dismay, none had 

4 " y apeandose del caballo, 1e hiio desjarretar. y se embrefli en 
las ueiral." Marmol, Rebellon de Granada, loc. cil. — Hita l-oid- 
nemorates the flight of the " little king" or the Alpujanax In one of 
bji billadi. Guerrai de Granada, lom. ii. p. 310. 

1 Mendou. Guena de Granada, p. 009. — Mannol, Rebellon di 
1. (Bin. ii. p. 150.— Hits, Cuerras de Granada, torn. ii. p. 059. 



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i6o SEBELtrON OF THE MORISCOES. 

been provided ; and, as his own attempts to procure 
them were unsuccessful, he soon found himself in the 
same condition as at Adra. The famine-striclcen troops, 
with little pay and less plunder, first became discon- 
tented, then mutinous, and at length deserted in great 
numbers. It was in vain that the irascible old chief 
poured out his wrath in menaces and imprecations. 
His arrogant temper had made htm hated even more 
than he was feared by his soldiers. They now went 
off, not stealthily and by night, but in the open day, 
whole companies at a time, their alquebuses on their 
shoulders and their matches lighted.* When Don 
Diego Fajardo, the marquis's son, endeavored to stay 
them, one, more audacious than the rest, lodged a 
musket-ball in his body. It was not long before the 
gallant array with which the marquis had so proudly 
entered the Alpujarras was reduced to less than three 
thousand men. Among them were the Italian veterans, 
who refused to tarnish their well-earned laurels by thus 
basely abandoning their commander. 

The council of war complained loudly to the king 
of the fatal inactivity of the marquis, and of his neglect 
to follow up the advantages he had gained. Los Veles 
angrily retorted by throwing the blame on that body, 
for neglecting to furnish him with the supplies which 
would have enabled him to do so. Philip, alarmed, 
with reason, at the critical aspect of affairs, ordered 
(he marquis of Mondejar to repair to court, that he 
might confer with him on the state of the country. 

< " I tan udelante pasA la desorden, que se juntaron quatiodentoa 
^rcahuccTos, i con Las mechas en las serpentina^ salieroD a fista dttt 
'sunpo." Meodoia, Guerra de Granada, p. 195. 



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OPERATIONS OF LOS VELEZ. i6i 

This was the avowed motive for his recall. But in 
truth it seems probable that the king, aware of that 
nobleman's leaning to a pacific policy and of his per- 
sonal hostility to Los Velez, deemed it best to remove 
him altogether from any share in the conduct of the 
war. This he did most efiectuatly, by sending him 
into honorable exile, first appointing him viceroy of 
Valencia, and afterwards raising him to the important 
post of viceroy of Naples, From this period the name 
of Mondejar no more appears on the theatre of the 
Morisco war,' 

The marquis did not win the favor to which he was 
entitled by his deserts. He seems to have possessed 
some of the best qualities of a good captain. Bold in 
action, he was circumspect in council. Slow and saga- 
cious in the formation of his plans, he carried them 
out with singular perseverance. He knew the country 
well which was the seat of the insurrection, and per- 
fectly understood the character of its inhabitants. 
What was more rare, he made allowance for the ex- 
cesses into which they had been drawn by a long course 
of insult and oppression. The humanity of his dis- 
position combined with his views of policy to make him 
rely more on conciliatory measures than on fear, for the 
reduction of the enemy. How well this worked we 
have seen. Had he been properly supported by those 
engaged with him in the direction of affairs, we can 
hardly doubt of his ultimate success. But, unhappily, 
the two most prominent of these, the President Deza 
and the marquis of Los Velei, were narrow-minded, 
eq. — Maimol, RebelioD 



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i6a REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

implacable bigots, who, far from feeling compassion for 
the Moriscoes, looked on the whole race as "God's 
enemies." Unfortunately, these views found favor 
with the government ; and Philip, who rightly thought 
that the marquis of Mondejar would only prove a hin- 
derance to carrying on hostilities with vigor, acted 
consistently in sending him from the country. Yet, 
while he was thus removed from the conduct of the 
war, it may be thought an unequivocal acknowledgment 
of Mondejar's deserts that he was transferred to the 
most considerahle post in the gift of the crown. 

Before the marquis's departure, Philip had transferred 
his court to CArdova, in order to facilitate his commu- 
nication with the seat of war. He hoped, too, that 
the knowledge of his being so near would place some 
check on the disorderly temper of the soldiery and 
animate them with more loyal and patriotic feelings. 
In this way of proceeding he considered himself as 
imitating the example of his great ancestors, Ferdinand 
and Isabella, who, during the war of Granada, usually 
transferred their court to one of the capitals of the 
south. He did not, however, think it necessary, like 
them, to lead his armies in person and share in the 
toils of the campaign. 

On the nineteenth of October, Philip published an 
edict which intimated his design of following up the 
war with vigor. It commanded that such of the Moris- 
coes as had hitherto been allowed to remain in Granada 
should now be removed from it, in order that no means 
of communication might be left to them with their 
brethren in the mountains. It was further proclaimed 
that the war henceforth was to be carried on with " fire 



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CONSPIRACY AGAINST ABEN-HUMEYA. 163 

and blood,"* — in other words, that no mercy was to be 
shown the insurgents. This was the first occasion on 
which this fierce denunciation had been made by the 
government. To reconcile the militia of the towns to 
the service, their pay was to be raised to a level with 
that of the Italian volunteers j and to relieve the towns, 
the greater part of the expense was to be borne by the 
crown. Before the publication of this ordinance the 
king had received intelligence of an event unexpected 
alike by Christian and by Moslem, — the death of 
Aben-Humeya, and that by the hands of some of his 
own followers. 

The Morisco prince, after carrying the war up to the 
borders of Murcia, laid siege to two or three places of 
strength in that quarter. As might have been expected, 
he failed in these attempts, from his want of battering- 
artillery. Thus foiled, he led back his forces into the 
Alpujarras, and established his quarters in the ancient 
Moorish palace of Lanjaron, on the slopes of the 
mountains commanding the beautiful valley of Lecrin, 
Here the torpid condition of the Spaniards under Los 
Velez allowed the young monarch to remain, and give 
himself up to those sensual indulgences with which the 
Moslem princes of the East were apt to solace their 
leisure in the intervab of war. His harem rivalled that 
of any Oriental satrap in the number of its inmates. 
This was strange to the Moriscoes, who, since their 
nominal conversion to Christianity, had of course repu- 
diated polygamy. In the eyes of the Moslems it might 
pass for good evidence of their prince's orthodoxy. 



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i64 REBELLION OF THE MOJtISCCES. 

Ever since Aben-Humcya's ascent to the throne he 
had been declining in popularity. His handsome per- 
son, the courtesy of his manners, his chivalrous spirit, 
and his devotion to the cause had easily won him the 
affections of his subjects. But a too sudden elevation 
had unfortunately that effect on him which it is wont to 
have on weak minds without any settled principles or 
loi^y aim to guide them. Possessed of power, he be- 
came tyrannical in the use of it.» His arbitrary acts 
created enemies, not the less dangerous that they were 
concealed. The consciousness of the wrongs he had 
committed made him suspicious. He surrounded him- 
self with a body-guard of four hundred men. Sixteen 
hundred more were quartered in the place where he was 
residing ; and the principal avenues to it, we are told, 
were defended by barricades." Those whom he sus- 
pected he treated with particular kindness. He drew 
them around his person, overwhelmed them with favors, 
and, when he had won them by a show of confidence, 
he struck the fatal blow." During the short period of 
his reign no less than three hundred and fifty persons, 
we are assured, fell victims to his jealousy or his re- 
venge." 

• " VjTJa ya con estodo da Rd, pero con aibilrio da tiisno." 
Mendoia, Guerra de Qranada, p. 909. 

" " Teniendo baireadaa las calles del lugaj- de manera. que nadi* 
pudiese entrai en i\ sin aer rbto 6 acntido." Monnol. Rebelion da 
Granada, torn. ii. p^ 163, 

'■ Mendoia, Guerra de Oranada, p. aio.— Such is the Tiberius-lika 
portrait given of him bj an enemy, — by one, bowevcr, it may be 
added, who (or liberal views and for discrimination of cliaracler ¥ni> 
not surpassed by any chronicler of his lime. 

a •• Los cuales pasaron de trescienlos cincuenla, segun yo he sido 
inibnnado de varioi moriscos qua seguian sus bandera* : y de til 



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CONSFISACY AGAINST ABEN-UUMEYA. 165 

Among Aben-Humeya's officers was one named Diego 

Alguazil, who had a beautiful kinswoman, with whom 
he lived, it is said, on terms of greater intimacy than 
was justified by the relationship of the parties. As he 
was one day imprudently speaking of her to Aben- 
Humeya in the glowing language of a lover, the curiosity 
of the king was so much inflamed by it that he desired 
to see her. In addition to her personal charms, the 
fair Zahara was mistress of many accomplishments 
which rendered her still more attractive. She had a 
sweet voice, which she accompanied bewitchingly on 
the lute, and in her dancing displayed all the soft and 
voluptuous movements of the dark-eyed beauties of 
Andalusia." When brought before the king, she did 
her best to please him; for, though attached, as it 
seems, to her kinsman, the ambitious coquette had no 
objection to having a royal suitor in her chains. In 
this she perfectly succeeded ; and the enamored prince 
intimated his desire to Algua/il that he would resign to 
liim the possession of his mistress. But the Morisco 

nuiera procedia el reyedllo, que vino i set odiosfsimo i los sujros poi 
tut cnieldades." Hila, Gueiias de Granada, lom. ii. p. 303. 
'^ " Que DO la hay mat hcnuosa 



The severer pencil of Mendoia does nol disdain the lame w: 
coloring for Ihe porti^l of (he Morisco beauty. Guecra de Gnuu 
p.al3. 



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■|66 REBELLION OF THE MOKISCOES. 

loved her too well ; and neither threats nor promises 
of the most extravagant kind were able to extort his 
consent, llius baffled, the reckless Aben-Humeya, 
consulting only his passion, caused the perhaps not 
reluctant Zahara to be taken by force and lodged in 
his harem, fiy this act he made a mortal enemy of 
Algua^il. 

Nor did be long enjoy the favor of his new mistress, 
who, come of an ancient lineage in Granada," had 
hoped to share the throne of the Morisco monarch. 
But Aben-Humeya's passion did not carry him to this 
extent of complaisance; and Zahaia, indignant at 
finding herself degraded to the rank and file of the 
seraglio, soon breathed only a desire for vengeance. 
In this state of things she found the means of commu- 
nicating with her kinsman, and arranged with him a 
plan for carrying their murderous intent into execution. 

The most important corps in the Morisco army was 
that of the Turkish mercenaries. But they were so 
fierce and turbulent a race that Aben-Humeya paid 
dear for their services. A strong body of these troops 
lay on the frontiers of Orgiba, under the command of 
Aben-Aboo, — a near relative of the Morisco prince, 
whose life, it may be remembered, he had once saved, 
by submitting to every extremity of torture rather than 
betray his lurking-place. To this commander Aben- 
Humeya despatched a messenger, directing him to 
engage the Turks in a certain expedition, which would 
■erve both to give them employment and to satisfy 
their appetite for plunder. 

Mendom, OueiTft de 



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CONSPIRACY AGAINST ABEN-HUMEYA. 1S7 

The time named for the messenger's departure was 
communicated by Zahara to her kinsman, who caused 
him to be waylaid and murdered and his despatches to 
be secured. He then had a letter written to Aben- 
Aboo, which bore apparently the royal signature. This 
was counterfeited by his nephew, a young man then 
holding the post of secretary to Aben-Humeya, with 
whom he had lately conceived some cause of disgust. 
The letter stated that the insubordination of the Turks 
made them dangerous to the state, and that in some 
way or other they must be removed, and that speedily. 
With this view, Aben-Aboo was directed to march them 
to Mecina, on the frontiers of the Sierra Nevada, where 
he would be joined by Diego Alguazil, with a party of 
soldiers, to assist him in carrying the plan into execu- 
tion. The best mode, it was suggested, of getting rid 
of the Turks would be by poison. 

This letter was despatched by a courier, who was 
speedily followed by Alguazil and a hundred soldiers, 
as the cunning conspirator desired to present himself 
before Aben-Aboo without leaving him time for con 
sideration. 

He found that commander in a state of the utmost 
perplexity and consternation. Alguazil declared that 
he had come in consequence of certain instructions he 
had received from the king, of too atrocious a nature 
for him to execute. Aben-Aboo had as little mind to 
perform the bloody work assigned to him. He had no 
distrust of the genuineness of the letter. Hosceyn, 
the commander of the Turks, happening to pass the 
house at that time, was called in, and the despatches 
were shown to him. The fiery chief insisted on com- 



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168 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

mnnicating them to some of his comrades. The great- 
est indignatioD prevailed among the Turkish leaden, 
ODtragsd by this base treachery of the very man whom 
they had come to serve at the peril of their lives. They 
one and all demanded, not his deposition, but hii 
death. Diego Alguazil saw that his scheme was work- 
ing well. He artfiilly fanned the Same, and professed 
to share deeply in the indignation of the Hoslems. It 
was at length agreed to put the tyrant to death and to 
c9er the crown to Aben-Aboo. 

This chieftain enjoyed a high reputation for sagacity 
and prudence. His passions, unlike those of Aben- 
Humeya, seemed ever under the control of his reason ; 
and, far from indulging an ill-regulated ambition, he 
had been always tailhfiil to his trust. But the present 
temptation was too strong for his virtue. He may have 
thought that, since the throne was to be vacant, the 
descendant of the Omeyas had a better claim to it than 
any other. Whatever may have been the sophistry to 
which he yielded, he knew that those who now promised 
him the crown had the power to make their promise 
good. He gave his assent, on condition that in the 
course of three months his election should be confinned 
by the dey of Algiers, as the representative of the 
Turkish sultan. 

Having arranged their plans, the conspirators lost no 
time in putting them in execution. They set out that 
very hour, on the evening of the third of October, for 
Lanjaron, with a body of four hundred troops,^-one 
half being Turks, the other Moriscoes. By midnight 
they reached their place of destination. Diego Algua- 
ail and the Turkish captains were too well known ai 



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ASSASSINATION OF ABBN-HUM&YA. 169 

rajoylng the confidence of Aben-Humeya, to meet with 
any opposition to their entrance into the town. Nor, 
though the Morisco king had retired to rest, did the 
guard oppose any difficulty to their passing into his 
dwelling. Proceeding to his chamber, they found the 
doors secured, but speedily forced an entrance. Neither 
arm nor voice was raised in his defence."* 

Aben-Humeya, roused from sleep by the tumult, 
would have sprung from his couch; but the faithless 
Zahara held him fast in her embrace until Diego 
Alguazil and some others of the conspirators, rushing 
in, bound his arms together with a Moorish veil." In* 
deed, be was so much bewildered as scarcely to attempt 
resistance. 

The Turkish commander then showed him the letter. 
Aben-Humeya recognized the writing of his secretary, 
but declared that he had never dictated such a letter, 
nor was the signature his. How far his assertion gained 
credit we are not informed. But the conspirators had 
already gone too far to be forgiven. To recede was 
death. Either Aben-Humeya or they must be sacri- 
ficed. It was in vain that he protested his innocence, 
and that he offered to leave the question to the sultan, 
or to the dey of Algiers, or to any person competent to 
decide it. But little heed was given to his protesta- 
tions, as the conspirators dragged him into an adjoin- 
ing apartment. The unhappy young man perceived 
that his hour was come, — that there was no one of all 
his friends or menials to interpose between him and his 

■) " Ningnno huvo que tomase las Bimas, ni bolviese de palabia pM 
d." Mendoia, Gueira de Granada, p. 317. 
^ " Alaronle las maoos coo un alma'm." Ibid., p. aiB. 

Philip.— Vol. III.— K 15 



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I JO 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



{ate. From that moment he changed his tone, and 
assumed a bearing more worthy of his station. " ITiey 
are mistaken," he said, "who suppose me to be a fol- 
lower of the Prophet. I die, as I hare lived, in the 
Christian faith. I accepted the post of head of the 
rebellion that I might the better avenge the wrongs 
heaped on me and my family by the Spaniards. They 
have been avenged in full measure, and I am now ready 
to die. Neither," said he, turning to Aben-Aboo, his 
destined successor, "do I envy you. It will not be 
long before you will follow me." He then, with his 
own hands, coolly arranged around his neck the cord 
with which he was to be strangled, adjusted his robes, 
and, covering his face with his mantle, submitted him- 
self, without a struggle, to his executioners. " 

His body was thrown into a neighboring sewer, with 
as little concern as if it had been that of a dog. There 
it continued, till Don John of Austria, hearing that 
Aben-Humeya had died a Christian, caused hb remains 
to be removed to Guadix and laid in the ground with 
the solemnities of Christian burial." 
That Aben-Humeya should have come to so miserable 
■7 " El mismo se di6 U buelta como le bfciesen meaos mal ; con- 
certd la ropa, cubridse el lostro." Mendoia, Guem de GtaiuJa, p. 

>* There 1b less discrepancy Ihan usual la the accounts txilfa of 
Aben-Humeya's assassination and of the drcumilances which led to 
IL These circumstances have ■ certain Oriental coloring, which 
inalies them Dot the less probable, considering the age and countij le 
which they occurred. Among the different anthoiities in prose and 
verse, see Maimol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. pp. 161-169, — Men- 
doia. Guerra de Granada, pp. 313-330. — Rufo, La Austiiada, cantos 
13, 14, — Hita, Guerras de Graikada, lorn. ii. p. 337, et seq., — Vander' 
9, Don Juan de Austria, foL 103-105. 



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ELECTION OF ABEtT-ABOO. iji 

an end is not strange. The recklessness with which he 
sacrificed all who came between him and the gralifica' 
tion of his passions surrounded him with enemies, the 
more dangerous in a climate where the blood is hot and 
ihe feeling of revenge is easily kindled in the bosom. 
At the beginning of his reign his showy qualities won 
him a popularity which, however, took no root in the 
affections of the people) and which faded away alto- 
gether when the defects of his character were more 
fiilly brought to light by the exigencies of his situation ; 
for he was then found to possess neither the military 
skill necessary to insure success in the field, nor those 
higher moral attributes which command respect and 
obedience at home. 

Very different was the character of his successor, 
Aben-Aboo. Instead of displaying the frivolous and 
licentious tastes of Aben-Humeya, his private life wag 
without reproach. He was much older than his prede- 
cessor; and, if he had not the same fiery enthusiasm 
and dashing spirit of adventure which belonged to 
Aben-Humeya, he discovered both forecast in the 
formation of his plans and singular courage in carry- 
ing them into execution. All confided in his integrity ; 
while the decorum and gravity of his demeanor com- 
bined with the more substantial qualities of his character 
to inspire a general feeling of reverence in the people." 

•»"Con la reputacion de valienle 1 hombre del campo, con U 
mfabiUdad, gravedad. auloridad de 1b presencia. fiie blen quislo, reape- 
tado, obedecido. lenido como Rei generaJmenie de todoi." Mendoia, 
Guerni de Granada, p. 334. — This was painling him tn ittai. For a 
portrait of an opposite complexion, see Miniana, who represents him 
U " audai. perfido, suspicaz, y de p^simas costumbres." (Historia 
dc Eipalla, p. 378.) Fortunatelj fot Aben-Aboo, the fint-nenlioiked 



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179 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



It was not till the time of his proposed elevation to 
the supreme power that the lustre of these qualities 
was darkened by the perpetration of one foul deed, — 
his connivance at the conspiracy against his sovereign. 
But if he were really the dupe, as we are told, of 
Alguazil's plot, he might plead, to some extent, the 
necessity of self-preservation; for he may well have 
believed that, if he refused to aid Aben-Humeya in the 
execution of his bloody purpose in reference to the 
Turks, the tyrant would not long suffer him to live in 
possession of a secret so perilous to himself. At all 
events, the part he had taken in the conspiracy seems 
to have given no disgust to the people, who, weary of the 
despotism under which they had been living, welcomed 
with enthusiasm the accession of the new sovereign. 
Many places which had hitherto taken no part in the 
struggle for independence now sent in their adhesion to 
Aben-Aboo, who soon found himself the ruler over a 
wider extent of territory than at any time had acknowl- 
edged the sway of his predecessor. 

It was not long before the confirmation of his election 
arrived from Algiers; and Aben-Aboo, assuming the 
regal name of Muley Abdallah Mohammed as a prefix 
to his own, went through the usual simple forms of a 
coronation of a king of Granada. In his right hand, 
on this occasion, he bore a banner inscribed with the 
legend, " More I could not desire, less would not have 
contented me."" Such an inscription may be thought 
wriler, a conleniporaiy, must be admilled lo be ;fie better authority 

*>"No pude deseai mas. ni conlentarme coa menos." Murmiil, 
Rebelioo de Granada, torn. ii. p. 168.— See also, for the account of 
this ■BTlial ceremony, Ueniloia, Guena de Granada, p. aai. 



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VIGOROUS PROSECUTIOf^ OF THE WAR. 



'73 



to intimate that a more aspiring temper lurked within 
liis bosom than the world had given him credit for. 

The new sovereign did not, lilte his predecessor, 
waste his time in effeminate sloth. He busied himself 
with various important reforms, giving, especially, a new 
organization to the army, and importing a large quantity 
of arms and munitions from Barbary. He determined 
not to allow his men time for discontent, but to engage 
them at once in active service. The first object he 
proposed was the capture of Orgiba, a fortified place 
which commanded the route to Granada, and which 
served as a point of communication between ttiat 
capital and remoter parts of the country. 

Aben-Aboo got every thing in readiness with such 
despatch that on the twenty-sixth of October, a few 
weeks only after the death of Aben-Humeya, he set 
out on his expedition at the head of a well-appointed 
army, consisting of more tiian ten thousand men, partly 
foreign mercenaries and partly natives. Hastening his 
march, he soon presented himself before Orgiba and 
laid siege to the place. He pushed matters forward su 
vigorously that in a few days he was prepared to storm 
the works. Four times he brought his men to the 
assault ; but though on the fourth he succeeded in 
throwing himself, with a small body of troops, on the 
ramparts, he was met with such determined resistance by 
the garrison and their brave commander, Francisco de 
Molina, that he was obhged to fall back with loss into 
his trenches. Thus repulsed, and wholly destitute of 
battering-ordnance, the Morisco chief found it expe- 
dient to convert the siege into a blockade. 

The time thus consumed gave opportunity to Don 



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174 SEBELUOH OF THE MORISCOES. 

John of Austria to send a strong force, under the duke 
of Sesa, to the relief of the garrison. Aben-AboOf 
desirous to intercept his enemy's march and occnpjr 
one of those defiles that would give him the advantage 
of position, silently broke up his encampment, under 
cover of the night, and took the direction of Lanjaron. 
Here he came so suddenly on the advanced guard of 
the Christians that, taken by surprise, it gave way, and, 
falling back, after considerable loss, on the main body 
of the army, threw the whole into confusion. Happily, 
the duke of Sesa, though laboring at the time under a 
sharp attack of gout, by extraordinary exertions was 
enabled to rally his men and inspire them with courage 
to repulse the enemy, — thus retrieving his own honor 
and the fortunes of the day. 

Meanwhile, the brave Molina and his soldiers no 
sooner learned that the besiegers had abandoned their 
works, than, eager to profit by their temporary absence, 
the cause of which they suspected, they dismantled the 
fortress, and, burying their guns in the ground, hastily 
evacuated the place. The duke of Sesa, finding that 
the great object of his expedition, the safety of the 
garrison, was now accomplished, and not feeling him* 
self in sufficient strength to cope with the Morisco 
chief, instantly began his retreat on Granada. In this 
he was not molested by Aben-Aboo, who was only 
too glad to be allowed without interruption to follow 
np the siege of Orgiba. But finding this place, to 
his surprise, abandoned by the enemy, he entered it 
without bloodshed, and with colors flying, as a con- 
queror." 

" Ferrenu, Hist d'Espagne, torn. i. pp. itt-tiS.— Miuinol, Reb» 



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VIGOROUS PROSECUTION OF THE WAR. 



»7S 



These successes in the commencement of his reign 
furnished a brilliant augury for the future. The fame 
of Aben-Aboo spread far and wide through the country; 
and the warlike peasantry thronged from all quarters to 
his standard. Tidings now arrived that several of the 
principal places on the eastern skirts of the Alpujarras 
had proclaimed their adherence to the Morisco cause ; 
and it was expected that the flame of insurrection would 
soon spread to the adjoining provinces of Murcia and 
Valencia. So widely, indeed, had it already spread, 
that, of all the Morisco territory south of Granada, the 
country around Malaga and the sierra of Ronda, on the 
extreme west, were the only portions that still acknowl- 
edged the authority of Castile." 

The war now took the same romantic aspect that it 
wore in the days of the conquest of Granada. Beacon- 
fires were to be seen along the highest peaks of the 
sierra, throwing their ominous glare around for many 
a league, and calling the bold mountaineers to the 
foray. Then came the gathering of the wild militia 
of the country, which, pouring down on the lower 
levels, now in the faded green of autumn, swept away 
herds and flocks and bore them off in triumph to their 
fastnesses. 

Sometimes marauders penetrated into the vega, the 
beautiful vega, every inch of whose soil was fertilized 
with human blood, and which now, as in ancient times, 

lion de Qranada, lom. ii. pp. 169-189.— Mendoia, Guerrade Grannda, 
p. 395. et leq. — Miniana, Hist, de Espafla. p. 37S. 

•■ " Desta manera quedaron levanlados todos los MorUcoi dd 
Rdno, sino los de la Ho)^ de Malagii i Serrania de Ronda." Men* 
doia, Guerra de Granada, p. 341. 



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176 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



became the battle-ground of Christian and Moslem cav. 
aliers. Almost always it was the former who had the 
advantage, as was intimated by the gory trophies, the 
heads and hands of the vanquished, which they bore 
on the points of their lances, when, amidst the shouts 
of the populace, they came thimderlng on through the 
gates of the capital. •* 

Yet sometimes fortune lay in the opposite scale. The 
bold infidels, after scouring the vega, would burst into 
the suburbs, or even into the city, of Granada, filling 
, the .place with consternation. Then might be seen the 
terror-stricken citizens hurrying to and fro, while the 
great alarm-bell of the Alhambra sent forth its sum- 
mons, and the chivalry, mounting in haste, shouted the 
old war-cry of Saint lago and threw themselves on the 
invaders, who, after a short but bloody fray, were sure 
to be driven in confusion across the vega and far over 
the borders. 

Don John on these occasions was always to be descried 
in the front of battle, as if rejoicing in his element and 
courting danger like some paladin of romance. In- 
deed, Philip was obliged again and again to rebuke 
his brother for thus wantonly exposing his life in a 
manner, the king intimated, wholly unbecoming his 

•) " Llevando los escuderos las cabeias y [as manos de Ids Mora* 
en los hierros de las lanias." Marmol. Rebelion de Granada, toni. 
ii. p, 159- — The head of an enemy was an old perquisite of tlie viclQt 
—whether Christian or Moslem— in (he wars with (he Spanish Arabs. 
It is frequently com me moraled in the Moorish nmuaKaas among the 
most honorable trophies of the field, down to as late a period as iha 
war of Giauada, See. among others, the ballad beginning 



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IMPETUOUS SPIRIT OF DON JOHN. 177 

rank."* But it would have been as easy to rein in the 
war-horse when the trumpet was sounding in his ears as 
to curb the spirits of the high-mettled young chieftain 
when his followers were mustering to the charge. In 
truth, it was precisely these occasions that filled him 
with the greatest glee ; for they opened to him the only 
glimpses he was allowed of that career of glory for 
which his soul had so long panted. Every detachment 
that sallied forth from Granada on a warlike adventure 
was an object of his envy ; and as he gazed on the blue 
mountains that rose as an impassable barrier around 
him, he was like the bird vainly beating its plumage 
against the gilded wires of its prison-house and longing 
to be free. 

He wrote to the king in the most earnest terms, 
representing the forlorn condition of affairs, — the 
Spaniards losing ground day after day, and the army 
>mder the marquis of Los Velez wasting away its ener- 
gies in sloth or exerting them in unprolitable enter- 
prises. He implored his brother not to compel him to 
remain thus cooped up within the walls of Granada, 
but to allow him to have a real as well as nominal 
command, and to conduct the war in person. "^ 

The views presented by Don John were warmly sup- 
ported by Requesens, who wrote to Philip, denouncing 
in unqualified terms the incapacity of Los Velez. 

•• " Y que salir d tales rebalos es desauloridad vuestra, siendo quien 
■oi> y teniendo el cargo que lenis." Carta de Felipe Segundo i. D<ui 
Juan de Austria, 30 de Setiembre, (569, MS. 

4 " Le suplico mire que ni i. quien soy. ni d la edad que lengo, nl 



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i78 SBBELLIOK OF THE MORISCOES. 

Philip had no objection to receive complaints, even 
against those whom he most favored. He could not 
■hut his eyes to the truth of the charges now brought 
against the hot-headed old chief who had so long en* 
joyed his confidence, but whose campaigns of late had 
been a series of blunders. He saw the critical aspect 
of affairs and the danger that the rebellion, which had 
struck BO deep root in Granada, unless speedily crushed, 
would spread over the adjoining provinces. Monde- 
jar's removal from the scene of action had not brought 
the remedy that Philip had expected. 

Yet it was with reluctance that he yielded to his 
brother's wishes; whether distrusting the capacity of 
one so young for an independent command, or, as 
might be inferred from his letters, apprehending the 
dangers in which Don John's impetuous spirit would 
probably involve him. Having formed his plans, he 
lost no time in communicating them to his brother. 
The young warrior was to succeed Los Velez in the 
command of the eastern army, which was to be 
strengthened by reinforcements, while the duke of 
Sesa, under the direction of Don John, was to establish 
himself, with an eflicient corps, in the Alpujarras, in 
such a position as to cover the approaches to Granada. 

A summons was then sent to the principal towns of 
Andalusia, requiring them to raise fresh levies for the 
war, who were to be encouraged by promises of better 
pay than had before been given. But these promises 
did not weigh so much with the soldiers as the knowl- 
edge that Don John of Austria was to take charge of 
the expedition ; and nobles and cavaliers came throng- 
ing to the war, with their well-armed retainers, in such 



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IMPETUOUS SPIRIT OF DON JOHN. 179 

numbers that the king felt it necessary to publish 
another ordinance, prohibiting any, without express 
permission, from joining the service.* 

All now was bustle and excitement in Granada, aa 
the new levies came in and the old ones were receiving 
a better organization. Indeed, Don John had been 
closely occupied, for some time, with introducing re- 
forms among the troops quartered in the city, who, 
from causes already mentioned, had fallen into a state 
of the most alarming insubordination. A similar spirit 
had infected the officers, and to such an extent that it 
was deemed necessary to suspend no less than thirty- 
seven out of forty-five captains from their commands." 
Such were the difficulties under which the youthful hero 
was to enter on his first campaign. 

Fortunately, in the retainers of the great lords and 
cavaliers he had a body of well-appointed and well- 
disciplined troops, who were actuated by higher motives 
than the mere love of plunder.* His labors, more- 
over, did much to restore the ancient discipline of the 
regiments quartered in Granada. But the zeal with 
which he had devoted himself to the work of reform 
had impaired his health. This drew forth a kind re- 

■^ " Entendi6se por Espafla la bma de su ida Bot>re Galera. I mo- 
TAt/t la nobleia della con tanto calor, que fiie necesario dar al Rel > 
enlendei que no em con so volunlad ir CavaUenu isa licencia a tervu 
en aquella cmpresa." Mendoia, Guena de Granada, p. 356. 

1 " HiviaD las desordenn pasado tan adelanle, que fue necesano 
para remediallas bacer demostracion no vista ni Idda en los tiempoi 
pasadoi, en la guerra: Buspender tieinta i dos Capilones de quarenta 
1 uno qu« bavia, con nombre de refonnaclon." Ibid., p. 337. 

■* " Tambien la gente embiada por los SeQores, escogida, igual, 
disdpllikada, movidos por obligacion de virlud i deseo dc acrediUu 
lus personaa." Ibjd., p. 934. 



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l8o REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

monstrance from Philip, who wrote to his brother not 
thus to overtask his strength, but to remember that he 
had need of his services ; telling him to remind Qui- 
xada that he must watch over him more catefuUjr. 
"And God grant," he concluded, "that your health 
may be soon re-established." The affectionate solici- 
tude constantly shown for his brother's welfare in the 
king's letters was hardly to have been expected in one 
of so phlegmatic a temperament and who was usually 
so little demonstrative in the expression o(his feelings. 

Before entering on his great expedition, Don John 
resolved to secure the safety of Granada in his absence 
by the reduction of "the robbers' nest," as the Span- 
iards called it, of Guejar. This was a fortified place 
near the confines of the Alpujarras, held by a warlike 
garrison, that frequently sallied out over the neighbor- 
ing country, sometimes carrying their forays into the 
vega of Granada and causing a panic in the capital. 
Don John formed his force into two divisions, one of 
which he gave to the duke of Sesa, while the other he 
proposed to lead in person. They were to proceed by 
different routes, and, meeting before the place, to attack 
it simultaneously from opposite quarters. 

The duke, marching by the most direct road across 
the mountains, reached Guejar first, and was not a 
little surprised to find that the inhabitants, who had 
received notice of the preparations of the Spaniards, 
were already evacuating the town, while the garrison 
was formed in order of battle to cover their retreat. 
Af^er a short skirmish with the rear-guard, in which 
some lives were lost on both sides, the victorious Span- 
iards, without following up their advantage, marched 



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SURPSISE OF aUEJAR. \%\ 

into the town and took possession of the works aban- 
doned by the enemy. 

Great was the surprise of Don John, on arriving some 
hours later before Guejar, to see the Castilian flag 
floating from its ramparts ; and his indignation was 
roused as he found that the laurels he had designed for 
his own brow had been thus unceremoniously snatched 
from him by another, "With eyes," says the chron- 
icler, " glowing like coals of fire," * he turned on the 
duke of Sesa and demanded an explanation of the 
affair. But he soon found that the blame, if blame 
there were, was to be laid on one whom he felt that be 
had not the power to rebuke. This was Luis Quixada, 
who, in his solicitude for the safety of his ward, had 
caused the army to be conducted by a circuitous route, 
that brought it thus late upon the field. But, though 
Don John uttered no word of rebuke, he maintained a 
moody silence, that plainly showed his vexation ; and, 
as the soldiers remarked, not a morsel of food passed 
his lips until he had reached Granada.'' 

The constant supervision maintained over him by 
Quixada, which, as we ha^'c seen, was encouraged by 
the king, was a subject of frequent remark among the 
troops. It must have afforded no little embarrassment 
and mortiflcation to Don John, — alike ill suited as it 
was to his age, his aspiring temper, and his station. 
For his station as commander-in-chief of the army 
made him responsible, in the eyes of the world, for the 

w " Pusieronsele los ojos eQcendidos oomo brasa de puro corage." 
Marmol. Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. p. Z34, 

T " Sin comer bocado en lodo aquel dia se volviiJ d la cludad de 
Granada." Ibid., p. 295. 

rhilip.— Vol. IH. 16 



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iSj mendoza. 

measures of the campaign. Yet, in his dependent 
situation, he had the power neither to decide on the 
plan of operations nor to carry it into execution. Not 
many day^ were to elapse before the death of his kind- 
hearted monitor was to relieve him from the jealous 
oversight that so much chafed his spirit, and to open 
to him an independent career of glory such as might 
satisfy the utmost cravings of his ambition. 



One of the aathoritiei of the giealdt importance, and n 
quenlly cited iti this Book, as the reader may have noticed, i 
Hunado de Mendoia. He belonged lo one of (he m 
houses in Caslile, — a house not more prominent for its rank than for 
the great abilities displayed by its members in the various walks of 
civil and military life, as weU as for their rare intelleclual culture. No 
one of the greal families of Spain has furnished so fniiifiil a theme 
for the pen of both the chronicler and the bard. 

He was the fifth sod oF the marquis of Motidejar. and was bom in 
the year 1503 al Granada, where his father tilled the office held by hii 
ancestors of captain-general of the province. Al an early age he wa* 
sent (0 Salamanca, and passed vrilh credit through the course of 
studies taught in its venerable univeisily. While there, he wrote — for, 

the authorship — his famous " Laiarillo deTormes," the origin of that 

portant branch of Castilian literature, and the best specimen of which, 
strange to say. was furnished by the hand of a foreigner, — the " Gil 
Bias" of Le Sage. 

Mendoia had been destined to the church, for which the eitensive 
patronage of his family offered obvious advant^es. But the tasle of 
the young man, as might be inferred from liis novel, look another 
direction, and he persuaded his father to allow him to enler the aimy 
and take service under the banner of Charles the Fifth. Mendota'i 
kive of letters did nol deSert him in the camp ; and he availed himself 

studies, especially in Ihe ancient [angu:iges. in the principal uniro- 
vtics of Italy. 



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MENDOZA. 183 

tl ms Impoulble that ■ person of such remukable endowmmtf as 

Mendoia, Ihc man conspicuous from his social posilion, should escape 
Uie penetrating eye of Charles the Fifth, who, independently of hi* 
scholanhip, recogniied in the young nohle a decided talent for 
polilicBl af^rs. In 1538 the emperot appointed him ambassador to 
Venice, a capital for which the literary enterprises of the Aldi vera 
ereiy day winning a higher reputatioQ id the republic of letlen. 
Here Mendota had the best opportunity of accomplishiDg a woA 
which he hod much at heart, — the fonnatloD of a library. It was a 
woili of no small difficulty in that day, when books and manuscript* 
were to be gathered from obscure, often remote, sources, and at Iha 
Urge cost paid for objects of vir^. A good office which he bad the 
means of rendenng the lultan, by the redemption from captivity of a 
1 urkish prisoner of tank, was requited by a magnificent present of 
Greek manuscripts, worth more than gold In the eyes of Mendom, 
It was kom his collection that the first edition of Josephus was given 
to the world. While freely indulging his taste for Uterary occupations 
in his intervals of leisure, he performed the duties of his mis^on with 
an ability that fully vindicated his appointment as rninister to the wily 
repubUc. On the opening of the Council of Trent, he was one of 
the delegates sent to represent the emperor in that body. He joined 
fteely in the diseussiom of the conclave, and enforced the views of his 
sovereign with a strength of reasoning and a fervid eloquence that 
produced a powerful impression on his audience. The independence 
he displayed recommended him for the delicate task of presenting the 
remonstrances of Charles the Fifth to the papal court against the 
removal of the council to Bologna, This he did with » degree of 
frankness to which the pontifical ear was but little accustomed, and 
which, if it foiled to bend the proud spirit of Paul the Third, bad Iti 
effect on his successor. 

Mendoia. from whatever cause, does not seem to have stood iw 
high in the favor of Philip the Second as In that of his bther. Per- 
haps he had too lofty a nature to stoop to that Implicit deference 
which Philip exacted from the highest as well as the humblest who 
approached him. At length, in ts&S. Mendoia's own misconduct 
broBght him, with good reason, into disgrace with his master. He 
engaged In a brawl with another courtier in the palace; and the 
scandalous scene, of which the reader will find an account in the pr» 
ceding volume, took place when the prince of Asturias. Don Carlos. 
was breathing his last. The offending panics were punished Erst by 



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l84 MENDOZA. 

Impriionnieiit, and then by banishment from Madrid. Mendoza.wba 
was sixty-five years of ^e at this time, wittidrew to Granada, hii 
native place. But he had passed loo much of his life in the atmoi- 
pbeie of a court to be content with a provincial residence. Ha 
accordingly made repealed efforts to soften his sovereign's displeastira 
and to obtain some mitigation of his sentence. These efforts, as rosy 

the wiser course of submitting to his fate and seeking consolation in 
the compaiiioDship of his t)ool£s, — steady friends, whose worth he now 
(iilly proved in the hour of adversity. He devoted himself lo tb« 
iludy of Arabic, to which he was naturally led by his residence in a 
capital filled with the monuments of Atabian an. He also amused 
his lebure by writing verses ; and his labors combined with those of 
Boscan and Garcilasso de la Vega to naturalize In Castile those mora 
refined forms of ItaTian versibcation that made an important epoch in 
the national literature. 

But the great work to which he devoted himself was the history of 
the insurrection of the Moriscoes, which, occurring during his resi- 
dence in Granada, may he said to have passed before his eyes. Fw 
this he had, moreover, obvious facilities, for he was the near lunsmaO 
of the captain-general, and was personally acquainted with those 
who had tlie direction of affairs. The result of hia labors was a 
work of inestimable value, though of no great bulk. — being less a 
history of events than a commentary on such a history. The author 
explores the causes of these events. He introduces the reader into 
the cabinet of Madrid, makes him acquainted with the Intrigues of 
the dilTerent factions, both in the court and in the camp, unfoldl 
the policy of the government and the plans of the campajgns, — in 
short, enables him to penetrate into the interior, and see the secrel 
worliing of the machinery, SO carefully shrouded from the vulgar 

The value which the work derived from the author's access to these 
recondite sources of information is much enhanced by its Independeal 
ipiril. In a country where few dared even think for themselves, 
Mendoia both thought with freedom and freely eitpressed his thoughts. 
Proof of this is atforded by the caustic tone of his criticism on tha 

ventures lo display when noticing the wrongs of the Moriscoes. This 
independence of the historian, we may well believe, could have found 
Ultle favor with the administratioa. ll may have been the cause thai 



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MENDOZA. 185 

the book was not pablished tOl after the reign or Philip tbe Second, 
and man; years aflet Its author's death. 

Tbe literary execution of the work is not its least remarkable fea- 
tnn. Instead of the desultory and gossiping style of ibe Castiliao 
chronicler, every page is instinct with the spirit of the ancient classics. 
Indeed, Mendoza is commonly thought to have deliberately fbriDed 
his style on that of SaLlust ; but I agree with my friend Mr. Ticknor, 
who.ina luminous criticism on Mendoia, in his great work on Spanish 
Literature, expresses the opinion that the Castilian histoiiaa formed 
his style quite as much on that of Tacitus as of Sallust. Indeed, 
Kime of Mendoia's most celebrated passages are obvious imitations 
of the former historian, of whom he constandy reminds us by the 
singular compactness and energy of his diction, by his power of 
delineating a portrait by a single stroke of the pencil, and by his free 
eridcism on the chief actors of the drama, conveyed in language hiH" 
of that practical wisdom which, in Mendoia's case, was the result of 
a large acquaintanee with public aifaits. We recognize also the 
defects incident to the style he has chosen, — rigidity and constraint, 
with a frequent use ol ellipsis in a way that does violence to the 
national Idiom, and, woisc of all. that obscurity which arises from 
the effort to be briet Mendoza hurts his hook, moreover, by an un- 
seasonable display of learning, which, however it may be pardoned by 
the antiquary, comes like an impertinent episode lo break the thread 
of the narrative. But, with all its defects, the work Is a remarkable 
production lor the time, and, appearing in the midst of the romaiitie 
literature of Spain, we regard it with the same feeling of surprise 
which the traveller might experience who should meet with a classic 
Doric temple in the midst of the fantastic structures of China or 
Hindostan. 

Not long after Mendoia had completed his history, he obtained 
permission to visit Madiid, not lo reside there, but to attend to some 
personal aHairs. He had hardly reached the capital when be was 
ailacked by a mortal illness, which carried him off in April, 1575, in 
the seventy-third year of his age. Shortly before his death he gave 
bis rich collection of books and manuscripts to his obdurate master, 
who placed them, agreeably to the donor's desire, in the Escoria], 
where they still form an interesting portion of a library of which so 
much lias been said, and so little Is really known by the world. 

The moel copious notice, with which I am acquainted, of the lite 

of Mendoia, is that attributed lo the pen of ISigo Lopei dc Avila, 

i6» 



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1 86 MENDOZA. 

taA preAied to the Valendan cdldoii of the " Gnem de Granada," 
published in 1776. But bii counlrTmeii have been erer ready to do 
honor to Ihe memoty of one who. by tbe briUiaot lucceu which b« 
achieved as a statesman, ■ diplomatist, a ttorelist, a poet, and an hii- 
torian, has established a reputation fbr Tenalilliy of (eaiw ucoehI to 
non* in the litentnn of SpiOa. 



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CHAPTER VII. 

REBEIXIOK OP THE MORISCOBS. 

Deo John takes the Field.— In nslmeal of Galera. — Fierce Aiwnlta. 
—PrepBiatioiu for a last Attack.— Eiploaion of the Mines.- Oei- 
peiBtion ol iha Moriscoes. — Cruel Massacre. — GalEra demolished. 

1570. 

Don John lost no time in completing the airange- 
nents for his expedition. The troops, as they reached 
Granada, were for the most part sent forward to join 
the army under Los Velez, on the east of the Alpu- 
jarras, where that commander was occupied with the 
siege of Galera, though with but little prospect of re- 
ducing the place. He was soon, however, to be super- 
seded by Don John, 

Philip, unable to close his ears against the representa- 
tions of his brother, as well as those of more experienced 
captains in the service, had at length reluctantly come 
to a conviction of the unfitness of Los Velci for the 
command. Yet he had a partiality for the veteran; 
and he was willing to spare him, as far as possible, the 
mortification of seeing himself supplanted by his yoting 
rival. In his letters the king repeatedly enjoined it on 
his brother to treat the marquis with the utmost defer- 
ence, and to countenance no reports circulated to his 
prejudice. In an epistle filled with instructions for the 
campaign, dated the twenty-sixth of November, the 
(■87) 



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iSS REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

king told Don John to be directed on all occasions by 
the counsels of Quixada and Requesens. He was to 
show the greatest respect for the marquis, and to give 
him to understand that he should be governed by his 
opinions. " But in point of fact," said Philip, "should 
his opinion clash at any time with that of the two other 
counsellors, you are to be governed by theirs."' 

On Quixada and Requesens he was indeed always to 
rely, never setting up his own judgment in opposition 
to theirs. He was to move with caution, and, instead 
of the impatient spirit of a boy, to show the circum- 
spection of one possessed of military experience. "In 
this way," concluded his royal monitor, " you will not 
only secure the favor of your sovereign, but establish 
your reputation with the world."* It is evident that 
Philip had discerned traits in the character of Don 
John which led hJm to distrust somewhat his capacity 
for the high station in which he was placed. Perhaps 
it may be thought that the hesitating and timid policy 
of Philip was less favorable to success in military opera- 
tions than the bold spirit of enterprise which belonged 
to his brother. However this may be, Don John, not- 
withstanding his repeated protestations to the contrary, 

■ " Y porqne podria ser que ordnuue a1 mnrqujs de los Velez qu« 
quedase con vos y os aconsejase. convendri en esle caso que vos le 
moatreis muy buena oara y le Iraleia muy bien y le dels i entender 
que lomais su parecer, mas que en efecto tomeis el de los que he 
dicho cuando fuesen diferenles del suyo." Carta del Rey d D. Juan 
de Austria, 26 de Novicmbre, 1569, MS. 

' " Y que OS gobeineis como si hubiisedes visto mucha piem y 
faallddoos en eUa, que OS digo que comigo y con todos ganeis hajta 
pins repuiaeion en gobernaros desla manera, que no haciendo alguna 
i todos DOS coslare caro." Ibid., MS. 



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DON JOHN TAKES THE FIELD. 189 

was of too ardent a temperament to be readily affected 
by these admonitions of his prudent adviser. 

The military command in Granada was lodged by the 
prince in the hands of the duke of Sesa, who, as soon 
as he had gathered a sufficient force, was to march into 
the western district of the Alpujarras and there create 
a diversion in favor of Don John. A body of four 
thousand troops was to remain in Granada ; and the 
(ximmander- in -chief, having thus completed his dispo- 
sitions for the protection of the capital, set forth on 
his expedition on the twenty-ninth of December, at the 
head of a force amounting only to three thousand foot 
and four hundred horse. With these troops went a 
numerous body of volunteers, the flower of the Anda- 
lusian chivalry, who had come to win renown under 
the banner of the young leader. 

He took the route through Guadix, and on the third 
day reached the ancient city of Baza, memorable for 
the siege it had sustained under his victorious ancestors, 
Ferdinand and Isabella. Here he was met by Reque- 
sens, who, besides a reinforcement of troops, brought 
with him a train of heavy ordnance and a large supply 
of ammunition. The guns were sent forward, under 
a strong escort, to Galera ; but, on leaving Baza, Don 
John received the astounding tidings that the marquis 
of Los Velez had already abandoned the siege, and 
drawn off his whole force to the neighboring town of 
Guescar. 

In fact, the rumor had no sooner reached the ears of 
the testy old chief that Don John was speedily coming 
to take charge of the war than he swore in his wrath 
that if the report were true he would abandon the siege 



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190 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



and throw up his command. Yet those who knew hiiu 
best did not think him capable of so mad an act. He 
kept hb word, however; and when he learned that 
Don John was on tlie way he broke up his encamp- 
ment, and withdrew, as above stated, to Guescar. By 
this course he left the adjacent country open to the 
incursions of the Moriscoes of Galera; while no care 
was taken to provide even for the safety of the convoy* 
which from time to time came laden with supplies for 
the besieging army. 

This extraordinary conduct gave no dissatisfaction 
to his troops, who, long since disgusted with the fiery 
yet imbecile character of their general, looked with 
pleasure to the prospect of joining the standard of so 
popular a chieftain as John of Austria. Even the in- 
dignation felt by the latter at the senseless proceeding 
of the marquis was forgotten in the satisfaction he ex- 
perienced at being thus relieved from the embarrass- 
ments which his rival's overweening pretensions could 
not have failed to cause him in the campaign. Don 
John might now, with a good grace and without any 
cost to himself, make all the concessions to the veteran 
so strenuously demanded by Philip. It was in this 
amiable mood that the prince pushed forward his 
march, eager to prevent the disastrous consequences 
which might arise from the marquis's abandonment of 
his post. 

As he drew near to Guescar, he beheld the old noble- 
man riding towards him at the head of his retainers, 
with a stiff and stately port, like one who had no con- 
cessions or explanations to make for himself. Without 
alighting from his horse, as he drew near the prince, he 



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DON yOHtf TAKES THE FIELD. 191 

tendered him obeisance by kissing the hand which the 
latter graciously extended towards him. " Noble mar- 
quis," said Don John, "your great deeds have shed a 
lustre over your name. I consider myself fortunate 
in having the opportunity of becoming personally ac- 
quainted with you. Fear not that your authority will be 
in the least abridged by mine. The soldiers under my 
command will obey you as implicitly as myself. I pray 
you to look on me as a son, filled with feelings of rever- 
ence for your valor and your experience, and designing 
on all occasions to lean on your counsels for support."' 
The courteoiu and respectful Cone of the prince seemi 
to have had its effect on the iron nature of the marquis, 
as he replied, " There is no Spaniard living who has a 
stronger desire than I have to be personally acquainted 
with the distinguished brother of my sovereign, or who 
would probably be a greater gainer by serving under 
his banner. But, to speak with my usual plainness, I 
wish to withdraw to my own houses for it would never 
do for me, old as I am, to bold the post of a subal- 
tern."* He then accompanied Don John back to the 
town, giving him, as they rode along, some account of 
the siege and of the strength of the place. On reach- 
ing the quarters reserved for the commander-in-chief, 
Los Velez took leave of the prince ; and, without fur- 
ther ceremony, gathering his knights and foUowen 
about him, and escorted by a company of horse, he 



Mendoia, Guen> de Gta- 



esquadia." Itdd., loe. ciL 



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I9> 



REBELLION OF THE MOSISCOES. 



rode off ID the direction of his town of Velez Blanco, 
which was situated at no great distance, amidst the wild 
scenery stretching towards the frontiers of Murcia. 
Here among the mountains he lived in a retirement 
that would have been more honorable had it not been 
purchased by so flagrant a breach of duty.' 

The whole story is singularly characteristic, not 
merely of the man, but of the times in which he lived. 
Had so high-handed and audacious a proceeding OC' 
curred in our day, no rank, however exalted, could 
have screened the offender from punishment. As it 
was, it does not appear that any attempt was made at 
an inquiry into the marquis's conduct. This is the 
more remarkable considering that it involved such dis- 
respect to a sovereign little disposed to treat with lenity 
any want of deference to himself. The explanation 
of the lenity shown by him on the present occasion 
may perhaps be found, not in any tenderness for the 
reputation of his favorite, but in Philip's perceiving 
that the further prosecution of the affair would only 
ierve to give greater publicity to his own egregious 
error in retaining Los Velez in the command, when his 
conduct and the warnings of others should long ago 
have been regarded as proof of his incapacity. 

On the marquis's departure Don John lost no time 
in resuming his march, at the head of a force which 
now amounted to twelve thousand foot and eight hun- 

s The marquis of Los Velei wu afterwords summoned to Madrid, 
where he long continued to occupy an importanl place in Ihe council 
of state, apparendy without any diminution of the royal favor. — For 
Ihe preceding pages consult Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. il. 
pp. 329-333, — Mendoza, Guerra dc Granada, pp. 337'a6a, — Herren, 
Hist, general, torn, i. pp, 777, 778, — Bleda, Cronica, pp. 733 734. 



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INVESTMENT OF GALERA. 193 

dred horse, besides a brilliant array of chivalry, who, 
as we have seen, had come to seek their fortunes in the 
war. A few hours brought the troops before Galera ; 
and Don John proceeded at once to reconnoitre the 
KTOund, In this survey he was attended by Quixada, 
Requesens, and the greater part of the cavalry. Having 
completed his observations, he made his arrangemeatR 
for investing the place. 

The town of Galera occupied a site singularly pic- 
turesque. This, however, had been selected certainly 
not from any regard to its romantic beauty, still less 
for purposes of convenience, but for those of defence 
against an enemy, — a circumstance of the first impor- 
tance in a mountain -country so wild and warlike as that 
in which Galera stood. The singulai shape of the 
rocky eminence which it covered was supposed, with 
its convex summit, to bear some resemblance to that 
of a galley with its keel uppermost. From this resem- 
blance the town had derived its name.* 

The summit was crowned by a castle, which in the 
style of its architecture bore evident marks of antiquity. 
It was defended by a wall, much of it in 50 ruinous a 

* The punning atlraclions of the name were loo strong to be rented 
by the baJlad-maJiers or the dajr. Sec in particnlaT the ronKmct (one 
of the best, it may be added, — and no great praise, — ia Hila'i second 
vohime) beginning 



and so on, (br moru stanzas than the reader wiU a. 
de Granada, torn. ii. p. 469. 

Philip.— Vol. III.— 1 17 



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194 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



condition as to be little better than a mass of stones 
loosely put together. At a few paces from the fortress 
stood a ravelin. But neither this outwork nor the castle 
itself could boast of any other piece of artillery than 
two falconets, captured from Los Velez during his 
recent siege of the place, and now mounted on the 
principal edifice. Even these had been so injudiciously 
placed as to give little annoyance to an enemy. 

The houses of the inhabitants stretched along the 
remainder of the summit, and descended by a bold 
declivity the northwestern side of the hill to a broad 
plain known as the Eras, or "Gardens." Through 
this plain flowed a stream of considerable depth, which, 
as it washed the base of the town on its northern side, 
formed a sort of moat for its protection on that quarter. 
On the side towards the Gardens the town was defended 
by a ditch and a wall now somewhat dilapidated. The 
most remarkable feature of this quarter was a church 
with its belfry or tower, now converted into a fortress, 
which, in default of cannon, had been pierced with 
loopholes and filled with musketeers, — forming alto- 
gether an outwork of considerable strength, and com- 
manding the approaches to the town. 

On two of its sides, the rock on which Galera rested 
descended almost perpendicularly, forming the walls 
of a ravine fenced in on the opposite quarter by pre- 
cipitous hills, and thus presenting a sort of natival 
ditch on a gigantic scale for the protection of the 
place. The houses rose one above another, on a suc- 
cession of terraces, so steep that in many instances the 
roof of one building scarcely reached the foundation 
of the one above it. The houses which occupied the 



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mVESTMENT OF GALERA. 



195 



same terrace, and stood therefore on the same level, 
might be regarded as so many fortresses. ITieir walls, 
which, after the Moorish fashion, were ill provided with 
lattices, were pierced with loopholes, that gave the 
marksmen within the command of the streets on which 
they fronted ; and these streets were still further pro- , 
tected by barricades thrown across them at only fifty 
paces' distance from each other,' Thus the whole place 
bristled over with fortifications, or rather seemed like 
one great fortification itself, which nature had combined 
with art to make impregnable. 

It was well victualled for a siege, at least with grain, 
of which there was enough in the magazines for two 
years' consumption. Water was supplied by the neigh- 
boring river, to which access had been obtained by a 
subterranean gallery lately excavated in the rock. These 
necessaries of life the Moriscoes could command. But 
they were miserably deficient in what, in their condi- 
tion, was scarcely less important, — fire-arms and ammu- 
nition. They had no artillery except the two falconets 
before noticed ; and they were so poorly provided with 
muskets as to be mainly dependent on arrows, stones, 
and other missiles, such as had filled the armories of 
their ancestois. To these might be added swords and 
some other weapons for hand-to-hand combat. Of de- 
fensive armor they were almost wholly destitute. But 
they were animated by an heroic spirit, of more worth 



J hechoi muchos traveses de una pane y de oiro en lai paertaa y 
pnredes de las casas. pBia heiir £ EU salvo i lot que tuesen pasando." 
Manned. Rebelion de Grai.ada. lorn. M p. 334. — The best and by br 
the moil minute account iif the topography of Galera is given by this 



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196 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

than breastplate or helmet, and to a man they were 
prepared to die rather than surrender. 

The fighting-men of the place amounted to three 
thousand, not including four hundred mercenaries, 
chiefly Turks and adventurers from the Barbary shore. 
The town was, moreover, encumbered with some four 
thousand women and children; though, as fai as the 
women were concerned, they should not be termed an 
encumbrance in a place where there was no scarcity of 
food \ for they showed all the constancy and contempt 
of danger possessed by the men, whom they aided not 
only by tending the sick and wounded, but by the 
efficient services they rendered them in action. The 
story of this siege records several examples of these 
Morisco heroines, whose ferocious valor emulated the 
doughtiest achievements of the other sex. It is not 
strange that a place so strong in itself, where the women 
were animated by as brave a spirit as the men, should 
have bid defiance to all the efforts of an enemy like 
Los Velez, though backed by an army in the outset at 
least as formidable in point of numbers as that which 
now sat down before it under the command of John 
of Austria.* 

• Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. I. p. 333, et leq. — Vander- 
nammen. Don Juan de Austria, fol. 113, 113. — Hita, Guerrai de 
Granada, torn. ii. p. 377, el seq.— Hila tells us he was not presenl 
at the siege of Galera; but he had in his possession the diaiy of ■ 
Murcian officer named TomSs Perei de Hevia., who served through 
tii« liege, and of whom Hita Speaks as a person well known for his 
military science. He says he has conformed implicitly to Heria's 
jouma], which he commends for its scrupulous veracity. According 
to the judgment of some critics, the Murcian officer, if he merits tbia 
im, majr be thought 10 have the advantage of Hita Mmffif 



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INVESTMENT OF GALERA. 



197 



Having concluded his survey of the ground, the 
Spanish general gave orders for the constraction of 
three batteries, to operate at the same time on different 
quarters of the town. The first and largest of these 
batteries, mounting ten pieces of ordnance, was raised 
on an eminence on the eastern side of the ravine. 
Though at a greater distance than was desirable, the 
position was sufficiently elevated to enable the guns to 
command the castle and the highest parts of the town. 

The second battery, consisting of six heavy cannon, 
was established lower down the ravine, towards the 
south, at the distance of hardly more than seventy 
paces from the perpendicular face of the rock. Tlie 
remaining battery, composed of only three guns of 
smaller calibre, was erected in the Gardens, and so 
placed as to operate against the tower, which, as 
already noticed, was attached to the church. 

The whole number of pieces of artillery belonging 
to the besiegers did not exceed twenty. But they were 
hourly expecting a reinforcement of thirteen more from 
Cartagena. The great body of the forces was disposed 
behind some high ground on the east, which effectually 
sheltered the men from the fire of the besieged. The 
corps of Italian veterans, the flower of the army, was 
stationed in the Gardens, under command of a gallant 
officer named Pedro de Fadilla. Thus the investment 
of Galera was complete. 

The first object of attack was the tower in the Gar- 
dens, from which the Moorish garrison kept up a 
teasing fire on the Spaniards, as they were employed 
in the construction of the battery, as well as in digging 
a trench, in that quarter. No sooner were the guns in 



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198 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

position than they delivered their fire, with such effect 
that an opening was speedily made in the flimsy ma- 
sonry of the fortress. Padilla, to whom the assault was 
committed, led forward his men gallantly to the breach, 
where he was met by the defenders with a spirit equal 
to his own. A fierce combat ensued. It was not a long 
one ; for the foremost assailants were soon reinforced 
by others, until they overpowered the little garrison by 
numbers, and such as escaped the sword took refuge in 
the defences of the town that adjoined the church. 

Flushed with his success in thus easily carrying the 
tower, which he garrisoned with a strong body of 
arquebusiers, Don John now determined to make a . 
regular assault on the town, and from this same quarter 
of the Gardens, as affording the best point of attack. 
The execution of the affair he intrusted, as before, to 
}uan de Padilla and his Italian regiment. The guns 
were then turned against the rampart and the adjoin- 
ing buildings. Don John pushed forward the siege 
with vigor, stimulating the men by his own example) 
carrying fagots on his shoulders for constructing the 
trenches, and, in short, performing the labors of a 
common soldier.* 

By the twenty-fourth of January, practicable breaches 
had been effected in the ancient wall ; and at the ap- 
pointed signal Padilla and his veterans moved swiftly 
forward to the attack. They met with little difficulty 
from the ditch or from the wall, which, never for- 
midable from its height, now presented more than one 

* " Para que I0S soldados seanimaEen al Irnbajo, fba delanle de todoi 
i pie, y iraia su hai acueslas camo cadn UDO, hasia ponerlo «D la 
IriDcbo.' Marmal, RetxUon de Gianada, torn. ii. p. 337. 



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FIERCE ASSAULTS. 



199 



Opening to the assailants. They experienced as little 
resistance from the garrison. But they hatl not pene- 
trated fax into the town before the aspect of things 
changed. Their progress was checked by one of those 
barricades already mentioned as stretched across the 
streets, behind which a body of musketeers poured 
well-directed volleys into the ranks of the Christians. 
At the same time, from the loopholes in the walls of 
the buildings came incessant showers of musket-balls, 
arrows, stones, and other missiles, which swept the 
exposed files of the Spaniards, soon covering the 
streets with the bodies of the slain and the wounded. 
It was in vain that the assailants stormed the houses 
and carried one intrenchment after another. Each 
house was a separate fortress; and each succeeding 
barricade, as the ascent became steeper, gave addi- 
tional advantage to its defenders, by placing them on 
a greater elevation above their enemy. 

Thus beset in front, flank, and rear, the soldiers 
were completely blinded and bewildered by the pitiless 
storm which poured on them from their invisible foe. 
Huddled together, in their confusion they presented an 
easy mark to the enemy, who shot at random, knowing 
that every missile would carry its errand of death. It 
seemed that the besieged had purposely drawn their 
foes into the snare, by allowing them to enter the town 
without resistance, until, hemmed in on all sides, they 
were slaughtered like cattle in the shambles. 

The fight had lasted an hour, when Padilla, seeing 
his best and bravest falling around him, and being 
himself nearly disabled by a wound, gave the order to 
retreat, — an order obeyed with such alacrity that the 



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300 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

Spaniards left numbers of their wounded comradei 
lying in the streets, vainly imploring not to be aban- 
doned to the mercy of their enemies. A greater 
number than usual of officers and men of rank perished 
in the assault, their rich arms making them a conspicu 
ous mark amidst the throng of assailants. Among 
others was a soldier of distinction named Juan de 
Pacheco. He was a knight of the order of St. James. 
He had joined the army only a few minutes before the 
attack, having just crossed the seas from Africa. He 
at once requested Padilla, who was his kinsman, to 
allow him to share in the glory of the day. In the 
heat of the struggle Padilla lost sight of his gallant 
relative, whose insignia, proclaiming him a soldier of 
the Cross, made him a peculiar object of detestation to 
the Moslems; and he soon fell, under a multitude of 
wounds." 

The disasters of the day, however mortifying, were 
not a bad lesson to the young commander-in-chief, who 
saw the necessity of more careful preparation before 
renewing his attempt on the place. He acknowledged 
the value of his brother's counsel to make free use of 
artillery and mines before coming to close quarters 
with the enemy." He determined to open a mine in 
the perpendicular side of the rock, towards the east, 
and to run it below the castle and the neighboring 

■° Mannol. Rebelion de Granadn. tom. ii. pp. 036-338. — Hevia, ap. 
Hila, Guerrai de Granada, tom. ii, pp. 386, 387,— Vanderhammea, 
Don Juan de Auslria, fol. iis.^Ferreraa, Hist. d'Espagne, torn. x. 
p. 140. 

" " Convendrt por no aventuia/ maa gente buena que se haga (odo 
Id que leaposible con las minas yanilleiia, fcUesde venir i. las nuuios.'' 
Carta del Rev i D. Juan de Austria, 6 de Febrero, 157a. bIS. 



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FIEJtCE ASSAULTS. zoi 

houses on the summit. For this he employed the 
services of Francesco dc Molina, who had so stoutly 
defended Orglba, and who was aided in the present 
work by a skilful Venetian engineer. The rock, con- 
sisting of a light and brittle sandstone, was worked 
with even less difficulty than had been expected. In 
a short time the gallery was completed, and forty-five 
barrels of powder were lodged in it. Meanwhile the 
batteries continued to play with great vivacity on the 
different quarters of the town and castle. A small 
breach was opened in the latter, and many buildings 
on the summit of the rock were overthrown. By the 
twenty-seventh of January all was ready for the assault. 

It was Don John's purpose to assail the place on 
opposite quarters. Fadilla, who still smarted from his 
wound, was to attack the town, as before, on the side 
towards the Gardens. The chief object of this man- 
oeuvre was to create a diversion in favor of the prin- 
cipal assault, which was to be made on the other side 
of the rock, where the springing of the mine, it was 
expected, would open a ready access to the castle. The 
command on this quarter was given to a brave officer 
named Antonio Moreno. Don John, at the head of 
four thousand men, occupied a position which enabled 
him to overlook the scene of action. 

On the twenty -seventh, at eight in the morning, the 
signal was given by the firing of a cannon ; and Padilla, 
at the head of his veterans, moved forward to the attack. 
They effected their entrance into the town, with even 
less opposition than before ; for the cannonade from the 
Gardens had blown away most of the houses, garrisoned 
by the Moslems, near the wall. But as the assailants 



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301 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

pushed OR they soon became entangled, as before, ia 
the long and narrow defiles. The enemy, intrenched 
behind their redoubts thrown across the streets, poured 
down their murderous volleys into the close ranks of 
the Spaniards, who were overwhelmed, as on the former 
occasion, with deadly missiles of all kinds from the 
occupants of the houses. But experience had prepared 
them for this ; and they had come provided with man- 
telets, to shelter them from the tempest. Yet, when 
the annoyance became intolerable, they would storm 
the dwellings ; and a bloody struggle usually ended in 
putting their inmates to the sword. Each barricade 
too, as the Spaniards advanced, became the scene of a 
desperate combat, where the musket was cast aside, 
and men fought hand to hand, with sword and dagger. 
Now rose the fierce battle-cries of the combatants, one 
party calling on Saint Jago, the other on Mohammed, 
thus intimating that it was still the same war of the 
Cross and the Crescent which had been carried on for 
more than eight centuries in the, Peninsula." The 
shouts of the combatants, the clash of weapons, the 
report of musketry from the adjoining houses, the 
sounds of falling missiles, filled the air with an un- 
earthly din, that was reverberated and prolonged in 
countless echoes through the narrow streets, converting 
the once peaceful city into a pandemonium. Still the 
Spaniards, though slowly winning their way through 
every obstacle, were far from the Uble-land on the 



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FIERCE ASSAULTS, 203 

sammit, where they hoped to join their couAtrymen 
from the other quarter of the town. At this criste a 
sound arose which overpowered every other sound in 
this wild uproar, and for a few moments suspended the 
conflict. 

This was the bursting of the mine, which Don John, 
seeing Padilia well advanced in his assault, had now 
given the order to fire. In an instant came the terrible 
explosion, shaking Galera to its centre, rending the 
portion of the rock above the gallery into fragments, 
toppling down the houses on its summit, and burying 
more than six hundred Moriscoes in the ruins. As the 
smoke and dust of the falling buildings cleared awav, 
and the Spaniards from below beheld the miserable 
survivors crawling forth, as well as their mangled limbs 
would allow, they set up a fierce yell of triumph. The 
mine, however, had done but half the mischief in- 
tended ; for, by a miscalculation in the direction, it 
had pas^d somewhat to the right of the castle, which, 
as well as the ravelin, remained uninjured. Yet a small 
breach had been opened by the artillery in the former; 
and, what was more important, through the shattered 
sides of the rock itself a passage had been made, which, 
though strewn with the fallen rubbish, might afford a 
practicable entrance to the storm ing-party. 

The soldiers, seeing the chasm, now loudly called to 
be led to the assault. Besides the thirst for vengeance 
on the rebels who had so long set them at defiance, 
they were stimulated by the desire of plunder; for 
Galera, from its great strength, had been selected as a 
place of deposit for the jewels, rich stuffs, and other 
articles of value belonging to the people in the neigh- 



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S04 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

borhood. The officers, before making the attack, weie 
anxious to examine the breach and have the rubbish 
cleared away, so as to make the ascent easier for the 
troops. But the fierce and ill-disciplined levies were 
too impatient for this. Without heeding the commands 
or remonstrances of their leaders, one after another they 
broke their ranks, and, crying the old national war-cries, 
"San /ago!" " Cierra Bspaha 1" " St. James I" and 
"Close up Spain!" they rushed madly forward, and, 
springing lightly over the ruins in their pathway, soon 
planted themselves on the summit. The officers, thus 
deserted, were not long in following, resolved to avail 
themselves of the enthusiasm of the men. 

Fortunately, the Moriscoes, astounded by the explo- 
sion, had taken refuge in the town, and thus left 
undefended a position which might have given great 
annoyance to the Spaniards. Yet the cry no sooner 
rose that the enemy had scaled the heights than, re- 
covering from their panic, they hurried back to man 
the defences. When the assailants, therefore, had been 
brought into order and formed into column for the 
attack, they were received with a well-directed fire 
from the falconets, and with volleys of musketry from 
the ravelin, that for a moment checked their ad- 
vance. But then^ rallying, they gallantly pushed for- 
ward through the fiery sleet, and soon found themselves 
In face of the breach which had been made in the 
castle by their artillery. The opening, scarcely wide 
enough to allow two to pass abreast, was defended by 
men as strong and stout-hearted as their assailants. 
K desperate stniggle ensued, in which the besieged 
bravely held their ground, though a Castilian ensign. 



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FIERCE ASSAULTS. 



aos 



named Zapata, succeeded in forcing his way inlo the 
place, and even in planting his standard on the battle- 
ments. But it was speedily torn down by the enemy, 
while the brave cavalier, pierced with wounds, was 
thrown headlong on the rocky ground below, still 
clutching the standard with his dying grasp. 

Meanwhile, the defenders of the ravelin kept up a 
plunging fire of musketry on the assailants; while 
stones, arrows, javelins, fell thick as rain-drops on 
their heads, rattling on the harness of the cavaliers, 
and inflicting many a wound on the ill-protected bodies 
of the soldiery. The Morisco women bore a brave 
part in the fight, showing the same indifference to 
danger as their husbands and brothers, and rolling 
down heavy weights on the ranks of the besiegers. 
These women had a sort of military organization, 
being formed into companies. Sometimes they even 
joined in hand-to-hand combats with their enemies, 
wielding their swords and displaying a prowess worthy 
of the stronger sex. One of these Amazons, whose 
name became famous in the siege, was seen on this 
occasion to kill her antagonist and bear away his armor 
as the spoils of victory. It was said that, t>efore she 
received her mortal wound, several Spaniards fell by 
her hand." 

Thus, while the besieged, secure within their de- 

■3 No less Ihan eighteen, according lo Hevia, But this number, 
notwithstanding Hiia's warrant for Ihe writer's scrupulous accuracy, 
is lotnewhat too heavy a tax on the credulity of the reader ; " Esia 
tirava mora se llamaba la Zarzamodonia. eis eoipulenia, reda de 
miembros, y alcaniaba grandlsima fueria; ae averigufi que en este 
dia mali ella sola por su mano i diei y ocho soldados, no de los 
peores del campo." Hila, Guerrai de Granada, torn U, p. 393. 
Philip.— Vol. III. tS 



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io$ REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

fences, suffered comparatively little, the attacking col- 
unin was thrown into disorder. Most of its leaders 
were killed or wounded. Its ranks were thinned by 
the incessant fire from the ravelin and castle; and, 
though it still maintained a brave spirit, its strength 
was fast ebbing away. Don John, who, from his 
commanding position, had watched the field, saw the 
necessity of sending to the support of his troops six 
companies of the reserve, which were soon followed 
by two others. Thus reinforced, they were enabled to 
keep their ground. 

Meanwhile, the Italian regiment under Padilla had 
penetrated far into the town. But they had won their 
way inch by inch, and it had cost them dear. There 
was not an officer, it was said, that had not been 
wounded. Four captains had fallen. Padilla, who 
had not recovered from his former wound, had now 
received another still more severe. His men, though 
showing a bold front, had been so roughly handled 
that it was clear they could never fight through the 
obstacles in their way and join their comrades on the 
heights. While little mindful of his own wounds, 
Padilla saw with anguish the blood of his brave follow- 
ers thtis poured out in vain ; and, however reluctantly, 
he gave the order to retreat. This command was the 
signal for a fresh storm of missiles from the enemy. 
But the veterans of Naples, closing up their ranks as a 
comrade fell, effected their retreat in the same cool 
and orderly manner in which they had advanced, and, 
though woefully crippled, regained their position in the 
trenches. 

Thus disengaged from the conflict on this quarter. 



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FIEKCE ASSAULTS. ae? 

the victorious Moslems hastened to the support of their 
countrymen in the castle, where they served to counter ■ 
balance the reinforcement received by the assailants. 
They fell at once on the rear of the Christians, whose 
front ranks were galled by the guns from the enemy's 
battery, — though clumsily served, — whils their flanks 
vrerc sorely scathed by the storm of musketry that 
swept down from the ravelin. Thus hemmed in on all 
sides, they were indeed in a perilous situation. Several 
of the captains were killed. All the officers were either 
killed or wounded \ and the narrow ground on which 
they struggled for mastery was heaped with the bodies 
of the slain. Yet their spirits were not broken ; and 
the tide of battle, after three hours' duration, still 
continued to rage with impotent fury around the 
fortress. They still strove, with desperate energy, to 
scale the walls of the ravelin and to force a way through 
the narrow breach in the castle. But the besieged 
succeeded in closing up the opening with heavy masses 
of stone and timber, which defied the failing strength 
of the assailants. 

Another hour had now elapsed, and Don John, as 
from his station he watched the current of the fight, 
saw that to prolong the contest would only be to bring 
wider ruin on his followers. He accordingly gave the 
order to retreat. But the men who had so impetuously 
rushed to the attack in defiance of the commands of 
their officers now showed the same spirit of insubordi- 
nation when commanded to leave it ; like the mastiiT, 
who, maddened by the wounds he has received in the 
conflict, refuses to loosen his hold on his antagonist, in 
spite of the chiding of his master. Seeing his orden 



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Bo8 REBELLION OP THE MORISCOES. 

thos unheeded, Don John, accompanied by his staff, 
resolved to go in person to the scene of action and 
enforce obedience by his presence. But on reaching 
the spot he was hit on his cuirass by a musket-ball, 
which, although it glanced from the well -tempered 
metal, came with sufficient force to bring him to the 
ground. The watchful Quixada, not far distant, sprang 
to his aid ; but it appeared he had received no injury. 
His conduct, however, brought down an affectionate 
remonstrance from his guardian, who, reminding him 
of the king's injunctions, besought him to retire, and 
not thus expose a life, so precious as that of the com- 
mander-in-chief, to the hazards of a common soldier. 

The account of the accident soon spread, with the 
usual exaggerations, among the troops, who, after the 
prince's departure, yielded a slow and sullen obedience 
to his commands. Thus for a second time the field of 
battle remained in possession of the Moslems; and the 
banner of the Crescent still waved triumphantly from 
the battlements of Galera.'' 

The loss was a heavy one to the Spaniards, amount- 
ing, according to their own accounts, — which will not 
be suspected of exaggeration, — to not less than four 
hundred killed and five hundred wounded. That of 
the enemy, screened by his defences, must have been 
comparatively light. The loss fell most severely on the 
Spanish chivalry, whose showy dress naturally drew the 

H For an account of (he second assault, lee Mendoia, Guerra de 
Granada, pp, 364, 365, — Matmol, Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. pp. 
840-043- — Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, fol. 113, 114,— 
Mevia. ap. Hila, Guerras de Granada, torn. ii. p. 3S9, et Mq., 
Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, pp, 639, 630. 



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PREPARATIONS FOR A LAST ATTACK. J09 

attention of the well-trained Morisco marksmen. The 
bloody roll is inscribed with the names of many a 
noble house in both Andalusia and Castile. 

This second reverse of his arms stung Don John to 
the quick. The eyes of his countrymen were upon 
him ; and he well knew the sanguine anticipations they 
had formed of his campaign, and that they would hold 
him responsible for its success. His heart was filled 
with mourning for the loss of his brave companions in 
arms. Yet he did not give vent to unmanly lamenta- 
tion ; but he showed his feelings in another form, 
which did little honor to his heart. Turning to'his 
officers, he exclaimed, "The infidels shall pay dear for 
the Christian blood they have spilt this day. The next 
assault will place Galera in our power; and every soul 
within its walls — man, woman, and child — shall be put 
to the sword. Not one shall be spared. The houses 
shall be razed to the ground;' and the ground they 
covered shall be sown with salt,"" This inhuman 
speech was received with general acclamations. As the 
event proved, it was not an empty menace. 

The result of his operaticms showed Don John the 
prudence of his brother's recommendation to make 
good use of his batteries and his mines before coming 
to close quarters with the enemy, Philip, in a letter 
written some time after this defeat, alluding to the low 
state of discipline in the camp, urged his brother to 
give greater attention to the morals of the soldiers, — to 

■1 "Yo hundir^ i Galera., yla a»)larj,ysen<brai4 toda de lal; ]rpor 
d riguroso fiio de la espada pasarin chicos y grandea, quantos esoLo 
dentro. por castigo de bu pertinacia, y en vengania de la sangre que 
han derramado." Marmol. Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. p. 344. 



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9IO KEBELLION OF THE. MOklSCOES. 

guard especially against profanity and other offences to 
religion, that by so doing he might secure the favor of 
the Almighty." Don John had intimated to Philip 
that, under some circumstances, it might be necessary 
to encourage his men by leading them in person to the 
attack. But the king rebuked the spirit of the knight- 
errant, as not suited to the commander, and admonished 
his brother that the place for him was in the rear; that 
there he might be of service in stimulating the ardor 
of the remiss; adding that those who went forward 
promptly in the fight had no need of his presence to 
encourage them." 

Don John lost no time in making his preparations 
for a third and last assault. He caused two new mines 
to be opened in the rock, on either side of the former 
one, and at some thirty paces' distance from it. While 
this was going on, he directed that all the artillery 
should play without ihtenpission on the town and 
castle. His battering-train, meantime, was reinforced 
by the arrival of fourteen additional pieces of heavy 
ordnance from Cartagena. 

The besieged were no less busy in preparing for their 
defence. The women and children toiled equally with 
the men in repairing the damages in the works. The 

* " No puedo yo dejar de encargaros que le lengais muy erande 
de que a no sea deservido en ese campo, ni haya las maldades y des- 
firdenes que decis, que siendo tales no pueden hacer cosa buena, y asl 
hi procurad. y que no haya jununentos ni otras ofensas dc Dios, que 
con esto & nos ayudard y lodo se hard bieo." Carta del Key 6, D. 
Juan de AusEria, 6 de Febrero, 1570, MS. 

f " Y COD esa genie, segun lo que decis, mas imponarA eslar dctrai 
dellos deteni jndoloa y casligindolos que no delante, pues para los qu* 
lo estin y hacrn lo que debcK do es menester." Ibid. 



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PREPARATIONS FOR A LAST ATTACK, an 

breaches were dosed with heavy stones and timber. 
The old barricades were strengthened, and new ones 
thrown across the streets. The magazines were filled 
with fresh supplies of stones and arrows. Long practice 
had made the former missile a more formidable weapon 
than usual in the hands of the Moriscoes. They were 
amply, provided with water, and, as we have seen, were 
well victualled for a siege longer than this was likely to 
prove. But in one respect, and that of the last impor- 
tance, they were miserably deficient. Their powder 
was nearly all expended. They endeavored to obtain 
supplies of ammunition, as well as reinforcements of 
men, from Aben-Aboo. But the Morisco prince was 
fully occupied at this time with maintaining his ground 
against the duke of Sesa in the west. His general. El 
Habaqui, who had charge of the eastern army, encour- 
aged the people of Galera to remain firm, assuring them 
that before long he should be able to come to their 
assistance. But time was precious to the besieged." 

The Turkish auxiliaries in the garrison greatly doubted 
the possibility of maintaining themselves, with no better 
ammunition than stones and arrows, against the well- 
served artillery of the Spaniards. Their leaders accord- 
ingly, in a council of war, proposed that the troops 

of the Moorish chief who coi 



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Jlj REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

should silly forth and cut their way through the lines 
of the besiegers, while the women and children might 
pass out \>f the subterranean avenue which conducted 
to the river, the existence of which, we are told, was 
unknown to the Christians. The Turks, mere soldiers 
of fortune, had no local attachment or patriotic feeling 
to bind them to the soil. But when their proposal was 
laid before the inhabitants, they all, women as well as 
men, treated the proposition with disdain, showing their 
determination to defend the city to the last, and to 
perish amidst its niins rather than surrender. 

Still sustained by the hope of succor, the besieged 
did what they could to keep o^ the day of the assault. 
They did not, indeed, attempt to countermine ; for, if 
they had possessed the skill for this, they had neither 
tools nor powder. But they made sorties on the miners, 
and, though always repulsed with loss, they contrived to 
hold the camp of the besiegers in a constant state of 

On the sixth of February the engineers who had 
charge of the mines gave notice that their work was 
completed. The following morning was named for the 
assault. The orders of the day prescribed that a general 
cannonade should open on the town at six in the morn- 
ing. It was to continue an hour, when the mines were 
to be sprung. The artillery would then play for another 
hour; after which the signal for the attack would be 
given. The signal was to be the firing of one gun from 
each of the batteries, to be followed by a simultaneous 
discharge from all. The orders directed the troops to 
show no quarter to man, woman, or cJiild, 

On the seventh of February, the last day of the Car- 



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EXPLOSION OP TUB MINES. 



SIS 



nival, the besiegers were under arms with the earliest 
dawn. Their young commander attracted every eye by 
the splendor of his person and appointments. He was 
armed (ap-dpie, and wore a suit of burnished steel 
richly inlaid with gold. His casque, overshadowed 
by brilliant plumes, was ornamented with a medallion 
displaying the image of the Virgin." In his hand he 
carried the baton of command ; and as he rode along 
the lines, addressing a few words of encouragement to 
the soldiers, his perfect horsemanship, his princely 
bearing, and the courtesy of his manners, reminded 
the veterans of the happier days of his father, the 
emperor. The cavaliers by whom he was surrounded 
emulated their chief in the richness of their appoint- 
ments j and the MurcJan chronicler, present on that 
day, dwells with complacency on the beautiful array 
of Southern chivalry gathered together for the final 
assault upon Gal era." 

From six o'clock till seven, a furious cannonade was 
kept up from the whole circle of batteries on the devoted 
town. Then came the order to fire the mines. The 
deafening roar of ordnance was at once hushed into a 
silence profound as that of death, white every soldier 
in the trenches waited, with nervous suspense, for the 
explosion. At length it came, overturning houses, 
shaking down a fragment of the castle, rending wider 

■» ■■ Relumbranle y fortlamo morrion adoraado de un penacho bello 
y eteifanle, sentado sobre una rica oiedalla de la imagcD de nuestia 
Seflora de la Concepdoa." Hevia, ap. Hila, Gueiras de Granada, 
(om. ii. p. 439. 

*> " IgualmeDte se arre^ I0 m^or que pudo loda la caballeria, y era 
cosa digna de ver la elegancia y hermosuia de ui ej'rcilo tan )iicidu 
J gal'aido." Ibid., loc. cil. 



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214 REBELLION OP THE MOSiSCOES. 

the liieach in the perpendicular side of the rock, and 
throwing off the fragments with the force of a volcano. 
Only one mine, however, exploded. It was soon fol- 
lowed by the other, which, though it did less damage, 
spread such consternation among the garrison that, 
fearing there might still be a third in reserve, the men 
abandoned their works and took refuge in the town. 

When the smoke and dust had cleared away, an officer 
with a few soldiers was sent to reconnoitre the breach. 
They soon returned with the tidings that the garrison 
had fled and left the works wholly unprotected. On 
hearing this, the troops, with furious shouts, called out 
to be led at once to the assault. It was in vain that the 
officers remonstrated, enforcing their remonstrances, in 
some instances, by blows with the flat of their sabres. 
The blood of the soldiery was up ; and, like an ill- 
disctplined rabble, they sprang from their trenches in 
wild disorder, as before, and, hurrying their officers 
along with them, soon scaled the perilous ascent, and 
crowned the heights without opposition from the enemy. 
Hurrying over the dibris that strewed the ground, they 
speedily made themselves masters of the deserted fortress 
and its outworks, — filling the air with shouts of victory. 

The fugitives saw their mistake, as they beheld the 
enemy occupying the position they had abandoned. 
There was no more apprehension of mines. Eager to 
retrieve their error, they rushed back, as by a common 
impulse, to dispute the possession of the ground with 
the Spaniards. It was too late. The guns were turned 
©n them from their own battery. The arquebusiers who 
lined the ravelin showered down on their heads missiles 
more formidable than stones and arrows. But, though 



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DESPERATION OF THE MORISCOES. 



ai5 



their powder was nearly gone, the Moriscoes could still 
make fight with sword and dagger, and they boldly 
closed in a hand-to-hand contest with their enemy. 
It was a deadly struggle, calling out — as close personal 
contest is sure to do — the fiercest passions of the com- 
batants. No quarter was given ; none was asked. The 
Spaniard was nerved by the confidence of victory, the 
Morisco by the energy of despair. Both fought like 
men who knew that on the issue of this conflict de- 
pended the fate of Galera, Again the war-cries of the 
two religions rose above the din of battle, as the one 
party invoked their military apostle and the other called 
on Mahomet. It was the same war-cry which for more 
than eight centuries had sounded over hill and valley in 
unhappy Spain. These were its dying notes, soon to 
expire with the exile or extermination of the conquered 

The conflict was at length terminated by the arrival 
of a fresh body of troops on the field with Padilla. 
That chief had attacked the town by the same avenue 
as before ; everywhere he had met with the same spirit 
of resistance. But the means of successfiil resistance 
were gone. Many of the houses on the streets had 
been laid in ruins by the fire of the artillery. Such as 
still held out were defended by men armed with no 
better weapons than stones and arrows. One after 
another, most of them were stormed and fired by the 
Spaniards, and those within were put to the sword or 
perished in the flames. 

It fared no better with the defenders of the barri- 
cades. Galled by the volleys of the Christians, against 
whom their own rude missiles did comparatively little 



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ai6 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

execution, they were driven from one position to an- 
otlier; as each redoubt was successively carried, a shout 
of triumph went up from the victors, which fell cheerily 
on the ears of their countrymen on the heights ; and 
when Fadilla and his veterans burst on the scene of 
action, it decided the fortunes of the day. 

There was still a detachment of Turks whose ammu- 
nition had not been exhausted, and who were maintain- 
ing a desperate struggle with a body of Spanish infantry, 
in which the latter had been driven back to the very 
verge of the precipice. But the appearance of their 
friends under Fadilla gave the Spaniards new heart ; 
and Turk and Morisco, overwhelmed alike by the 
superiority of the numbers and of the weapons of their 
antagonists, gave way in all directions. Some fled 
down the long avenues which led from the summit of 
the rock. They were hotly pursued by the Spaniards. 
Others threw themselves into the houses and prepared 
to make a last defence. The Spaniards scrambled 
along the terraces, letting themselves down from one 
level to another by means of the Moorish ladders used 
for that purpose. They hewed openings in the wooden 
roofs of the buildings, through which they fired on 
those within. The helpless Moriscoes, driven out by 
the pitiless volleys, sought refuge in the street. But 
the fierce hunters were there, waiting for their miserable 
game, which they shot down without mercy, — men, 
women, and children; none were spared. Yet they 
did not fall unavenged; and the corpse of many a 
Spaniard might be seen stretched on the bloody pave- 
ment, lying side by side with that of his Moslem enemy. 

More than one instance is recorded of the desperate 



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CRUEL MASSACRE. aij 

courage to which the women as well as the men were 
roused in their extremity. A Morisco girl, whose 
father Iiad perished in the first assault in the Gardens, 
after firing her dwelling, is said to have dragged her 
two little brothers along with one hand, and, wielding 
a scimitar with the other, to have rushed against the 
foe, hy whom they were all speedily cut to pieces. An- 
other instance is told, of a man who, after killing his 
wife and his two daughters, sallied forth, and, calling 
out, "There is nothing more to lose; let us die to- 
gether 1" threw himself madly into the thick of the 
enemy." Some fell by their own weapons, others by 
those of their friends, preferring to receive death from 
any hands but those of the Spaniards. 

Some two thousand Moriscoes were huddled together 
in a square not far from the gate, where a strong body 
of Castilian infantry cut off the means of escape. Spent 
with toil and loss of blood, without ammunition, with- 
out arms, or with such only as were too much battered 
or broken for service, the wretched fugitives would 
gladly have made some terms with their pursuers, who 
now closed darkly around them. But the stag at bay 
might as easily have made terms with his hunters and 
the fierce hounds that were already on his haunches. 
Their prayers were answered by volley after volley, 
until not a man was left alive. 

More than four hundred women and children were 
gathered together without the walls, and the soldiers, 
mindful of the value of such a booty, were willing to 
spare their lives. This was remarked by Don John, 

•> These aaecdotes are givea by HevU, ap. Hita, Guerras de Uia- 
■uuU. l»m. ii. pp. 44^451. 

Fhilip.—VoL. in.— K 19 



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Il8 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

and no sooner did he observe the symptoms of lenitv 
in the troops than the flinty-hearted chief rebuked their 
remissness and sternly reminded them of the orders of 
the day. He even sent the halberdiers of his guard 
and the cavaliers about his person to assist the soldiers 
in their bloody work \ while he sat, a calm spectator, 
on his horse, as immovable as a marble statue, and aa 
insensible to the agonizing screams of his victims and 
their heart-breaking prayers for mercy." 

While this was going on without the town, the work 
of death was no less active within. Every square and 
enclosure that had afforded a temporary refuge to the 
fugitives was heaped with the bodies of the slain. 
Blood ran down the kennels like water after a heavy 
shower. The dwellings were fired, some by the con- 
querors, others by the inmates, who threw themselves 
madly into the flames rather than fall into the hands 
of their enemies. The gathering shadows of evening 
— for the fight had lasted nearly nine hours" — were 
dispelled by the light of the conflagration, which threw 
an ominous glare for many a league over the country, 
proclaiming far and wide the downfall of Galera, 

At length Don John was so far moved from his ori- 
ginal purpose as to consent that the women, and the 
children under twelve years of age, should be spared. 
This he did, not from any feeling of compunction, but 
from deference to the murmurs of his followers, whose 

■" '■ Los qUales mataron mas de quatrocientas rnugerd y nifioa . . . 
1 ansi hiio matai muchos en su presencia i. los alabarderoi de la 
guardia." Mannol, Rri>eIfon de Graoada, torn. ii. p. 348. 

•I " Dur6 el combaie, despues de enirado el lugai, desde las ocbo 
de la mafiana basta las dnco de la tante." Heria, ap. Hita, Guenaa 
de Gnmada, torn. ii. p. 448. 



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CRUEL MASSACRE. aig 

Ciscontent at seeing their customary booty snatched 
from them began to show itself in a way not to be dis- 
regarded.** Some fineen hundred women and children, 
in consequence of this, are said to have escaped the 
general doom of their countrymen.* AH the rest, 
soldiers and citizens, Turks, Africans, and Moris- 
coes, were mercilessly butchered. Not one man, if 
we may trust the Spaniards themselves, escaped alive I 
It would not be easy, even in that age of blood, to 
Jind a parallel to. so wholesale and indiscriminate a 
massacre. 

Yet, to borrow the words of the Castilian proverb, 
"If Africa had cause to weep, Spain had little reason 
to rejoice." ■* No success during the war was purchased 
at so high a price as the capture of Galera. The loss 
fell as heavily on the officers and men of rank as on the 
common file. We have seen the eagerness with which 
they had flocked to the standard of John of Austria. 
They showed the same eagerness to distinguish them- 
selves under the eye of their leader. The Spanish 
•chivalry were sure to be found in the post of danger. 
Dearly did they pay for that pre-eminence; and many 

*• " Y DO par£ran basta acabarlas i, todas, si las quejas dE los solda* 
dos, i quien se quitaba cl premio de la vitoria, no le movlenin ; ma« 
esio file quando m enleodifi que la vUla eslaba ya por nosotros, j no 
quiso que se perdonase i, varon que pasase de docc ados." Marmol, 
Rebelion de Gianada. lorn. ii. p. 94B. 

■( " Se cautivaron basta otras mU y quinienlas pereonas de mugerta 
r nitios, porque dhombre ninguno se lom6 con vida, babieado mueilo 
todos sin quedar uno en esle dia. y en los ssalios pasados." Hevia, 
ip. Hila, Guerras de Gran^a, loin. ii. p. 448. — Marmol. while he 
admits thai not a man was spared, estimates the number of women 
sod diildren saved at three limes that given in the leit, 

■* " Si Africa Uora, EspaAa no he." 



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I20 REBELUOM OF THE MORISCOES. 

a noble house in Spain wept bitter tears when the tidings 
came of the conquest of Galera." 

Don John himself was so much exasperated, says the 
chronicler, by the thought of the grievous loss which 
he had sustained through the obstinate resistance of 
the heretics,"* that he resolved to carry at once into 
effect his menace of demolishing the town, so that not 
one stone should be left on another. Every house was 
accordingly burnt or levelled to the ground, which was 
then strewed with salt, as an accursed spot, on which 
no man was to build thereafter. A royal decree to tliat 
effect was soon afterwards published ; and the village 
of straggling houses, which, undefended by a wall, still 
clusters round the base of the hill, in the Gardens oc- 
cupied by Fadilla, is all that now serves to remind the 
traveller of the once flourishing and strongly fortified 
city of Galera. 

In the work of demolition Don John was somewhat 
retarded by a furious tempest of sleet and rain, which 
set in the day after the place was taken. It was no un- 
common thing at that season of the year. Had it come 
on a few days earlier, the mountain -torrents would in- 
fyiibly have broken up the camp of the besiegers and 
compelled them to suspend operations. That the storm 

V For the accoiml of tbe final ausult, as told b; the various wrilen, 
with suffidenl Incoosistency In the details, compare Mannol, Rebelioa 
lie Granada, torn. ii. pp. 144-349, — Mendoia, Guerra de Granada, pp. 
a66-368. — Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, fol. 114, 115,— 
Hevia, ap. Hila Guerras de Granada, torn. ii. p. 439, et seq., — Cabrera, 
Filipe Segundo.pp. 630, 631, — Bleda, Cronica, p. 734, — Fenerai, Hist. 
d Kspagne, lom. i, pp. 143, 144. 

■ "' Tanto le crecia la, ira, pensando en el dafio que aquellos heregei 
bablan hecbo." Maimol, Rebelion de Giaoada, torn. ii. p, 048. 



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GALBRA DEMOLISHED. 931 

was so long delayed was regarded by the Siuniards as a 
special interposition of Heaven. 

The booty was great which fell into the hands of the 
victors ; for Galera, from its great strength, had been 
selected by the inhabitants of the neighboring country 
as a safe place of deposit for their effects, — especially 
their more valuable treasures of gold, pearls, jewels, and 
precious stuffs. Besides these there was a great quantity 
of wheat, barley, and other grain stored in the maga- 
zines, which afforded a seasonable supply to the army. 

No sooner was Don John master of Galera than he 
sent tidings of his success to his brother. The king 
was at that time paying his devotions at the shrine of 
Our Lady of Guadalupe. The tidings were received 
with exultation by the court, — by Philip with the stolid 
composure with which he usually received accounts 
either of the success or the discomfiture of his arms. 
He would allow no public rejoicings of any kind. The 
only way in which he testified his satisfaction was by 
offering up thanks to God and the Blessed Virgin, " to 
whom," says the chronicler, "he thought the cause 
should be especially commended, as one in which more 
glory was to be derived from peace than from a bloody 
victory." " With such humane and rational sentiments, 
it is marvellous that he did not communicate them to 
his brother, and thus spare the atrocious massacre of 
his Morisco vassals at Galera. 

But, however revolting this massacre may appear in 



■• " Solo dar grac 


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1 Elori. 


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11 Maria, encoi 


dandolH • 


;l Calhol 


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negoc 


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sr de caltdad. 


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las gloria 


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. concordi 




tz. qu 


e d 


a la viloria s.-i: 


enla." M 


armol, R 


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D de Granada, t. 


om. ii 


.p. 


=49- 



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■2a REBELLION OF 7HB MORISCOES. 

our eyes, it seems to have left no stain on the reputation 
of John of Austria in the eyes of his contemporaries. 
In reviewing this campaign, we cannot too often call to 
mind that it was regarded not so much as a war with 
rebellious vassals as a war with the enemies of the 
Faith. It was the last link in that long chain of hos- 
tilities which the Spaniard for so many centuries had 
been waging for the recovery of his soil from the infi- 
del. The sympathies of Christendom were not the less 
on his side that now, when the trumpet of the crusader 
had ceased to send forth its notes in other lands, they 
should still be heard among the hills of Granada. The 
Moriscoes were everywhere regarded as infidels and 
apostates ; and there were few Christian nations whose 
codes would not at that day have punished infidelity 
and apostasy with death. It was no harder for them 
that they should be exterminated by the sword than by 
the fagot. So tar from the massacre of the Moriscoes 
tarnishing the reputation of their conqueror, it threw a 
gloomy iclat over his achievement, which may have 
rather served to add to its celebrity. His own coun- 
trymen, thinking only of the extraordinary difficulties 
which he had overcome, with pride beheld him enter- 
ing on a splendid career, that would place his name 
among those of the great paladins of the nation. In 
Rome he was hailed as the champion of Christendom ; 
and it was determined to ofler him the baton of general- 
issimo of the formidable league which the pope was at 
this time organizing against the Ottoman Empire.' 

V "Cela. raid, par sa renontnije qui voloil (ar le monde, tant dca 
chiealicns que des infidelles, i1 ful faici general de la laiocte li(oe." 
Branifinii:. CEuvres, lorn. i. p. 326, 



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CHAPTER VIII. 

REBEUJOH OF THE MORISCOES. 

Obaster at Seron.— E>eath of Qutxada.— Rapid Succ«shi of Don 
Jobn.— Submission of the Moriscoes. — Fate of El Habaqal. — 
Stem Temper of Aben-Aboo.— Renewal of the War. — EipuluoB 
of the Moon.— Don lohn returns to Madrid.— Mulder of Abeo- 
Aboo. — Fortunes of ine Moriscoes. 

1570-I57I' 

DoM John was detained some days before Galera by 
the condition of the roads, which the storm had ren- 
dered impassable for heavy wagons and artillery. When 
the weather improved, he began his march, moving 
south in the direction of Baza. Passing through that 
ancient town, the scene of one of the most glorious 
triumphs of the good Queen Isabella the Catholic, he 
halted at Caniles. Here he left the main body of his 
army, and, putting himself at the head of a detachment 
of three thousand foot and two hundred horse, hastened 
forward to reconnoitre Seron, which he purposed next 
to attack. 

Seron was a town of some strength, situated on the 
slope of the sierra, and defended by a castle held by a 
Morisco garrison. On his approach, most of the in- 
habitants, and many of the soldiers, evacuated the 
place and sought refuge among the mountains. Don 
Jolin formed his force into two dirisions, one of which 



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114 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

he placed under Quixada, the other under Requesena. 
He took up a position himself, with a few cavaliers and 
a small body of arquebusiers, on a neighboring emi- 
nence, which commanded a view of the whole ground. 

The two captains were directed to reconnoitre the 
environs by making a circuit from opposite sides if the 
town. Quixada, as he pressed forward with his column, 
drove the Morisco fugitives before him until they van- 
ished in the recesses of the mountains. In the mean 
time the beacon-fires, which for some hours had been 
blazing from the topmost peaks of the sierra, had spread 
intelligence far and wide of the coming of the enemy. 
The whole country was in arms ; and it was not long 
before the native warriors, mustering to the number of 
six thousand, under the Morisco chief El Habaqui, who 
held command in that quarter, came pouring through 
the defiles of the mountains and fell with fury on the 
front and flank of the astonished Spaniards. The 
assailants were soon joined by the fugitives from Seron ; 
and the Christians, unable to withstand this accumulated 
force, gave way, though slowly and in good order, before 
the enemy. 

Meanwhile, a detachment of Spanish infantry, under 
command of Lope de Figueroa, maestro del campa, had 
broken into the town, where they were busily occu- 
pied in plundering the deserted houses. This was a 
[lart of the military profession which the rude levies 
of Andalusia well understood. While they were thus 
occupied, the advancing Moriscoes, burning for re- 
venge, burst into the streets of the town, and, shouting 
their horrid war-cries, set furiously on the marauders. 
The Spaniards, taken by surprise and encumbered witt 



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DISASTER AT SERON saj 

tlieir booty, offered little resistance. They were seized 
with a panic, and fled in all directions. They were 
soon mingled with their retreating comrades under 
Quixada, everywhere communicating their own terror, 
till the confusion became general. It was in vain that 
Quixada and Figueroa, with the other captains, en- 
deavored to restore order. The panic-stricken soldiers 
heard nothing, saw nothing, but the enemy. 

At this crisis Don John, who from his elevated post 
had watched the impending ruin, called his handful of 
brave followers around him, and at once threw himself 
into the midst of the tumult. " What means this, Span- 
iards?" he exclaimed. "From whom are you flying? 
Where is the honor of Spain? Have you not John of 
Austria, your commander, with you ? At least, if you 
retreat, do it like brave men, with your front to the 
enemy."' It was in vain. His entreaties, his men- 
aces, even his blows, which he dealt with the flat of his 
sabre, were ineffectual to rouse any thing like a feeling 
of shame in the cowardly troops. The efforts of his 
captains were equally fruitless, though in making them 
they exposed their lives with a recklessness which cost 
some of them dear. Figueroa was disabled by a wound 
in the leg. Quixada was hit by a musket-ball on the 
left shoulder, and struck from his saddle. Don John, 
who was near, sprang to his assistance and placet^ him 
in the hands of some troopers, with directions to bear 
him at once to Caniles. In doing this the young 

■ "Qu< es eslo, EspaRoles? de qu£ huis? dinde eslj la honra dt 
Bspatia? No leneis delonle d Don Juan de Austria, vuesiro capilan? 
de qui lemeis? Ritiraos con orden como hombres de guerra con <A 
loMTO al enemigo." Mannol. Rebelioa dc Granada, lorn, ii, p. 357, 



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ta6 SEBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

commander himself had a narrow escape ; for he was 
ttruck on his helmet by a ball, which, however, for- 
tunately glanced off without doing him injury.* He 
was now hurried along by the tide of fugitives, who 
made no attempt to rally for the distance of half a' 
league, when the enemy ceased his pursuit. Six hun- 
dred Spaniards were left dead on the field. A great 
number threw themselves into the houses, prepared to 
make good their defence. But they were speedily 
enveloped by the Moriscoes, the houses were stormed 
or set on fire, and the inmates perished to a man.* 

Don John, in a letter dated the nineteenth of Feb- 
ruary, two days after this disgraceful affair, gave an 
account of it to the king, declaring that the dastardly 
conduct of the troops exceeded any thing he had ever 
witnessed, or indeed could have believed, had he not 
seen it with his own eyes. " They have so little heart 
in the service," he adds, "that no effort that I can 
make, not even the fear of the galleys or the gibbet, 
can prevent them from deserting. Would to Heaven I 
could think that they are moved to this by the desire 
to return to their families, and not by fear of the 
enemy 1" * He gave the particulars of Quixada's acci- 

* " Acudiendo A todat las necesidadcs con peligro de m penon*. 
porque )e dieron un escopelaio en la cabeia 5at>te una celada fuerte 
que llevaba, que d no ser Ian tniena, 1e maUran." Maimol, Rebelloa 
de Granada, lorn. 11. p. 35S. 

1 Carta de D. Juan de Austria al Rey, 19 de Fdirero, 1570. MS.— 
Marmol, Bebelion de Granada, lorn. li. p. 353, et seq. — Mendoia, 
Guerra de Granada, p. 973. — Villalafle, Vida de Magdalena da 
Ulloa. — Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austria, fol. 116, 117. 

t "Conforme d esto entenderd V. M. la poca costancia y aitcionqoB 
denen i, la Euerra, eatoa que la dq'an a! mejor (iempo sin poderlei 
nvnmiT galeras, ni borca oi cuantas diligeaciai le bacen. Y pl(^ i 



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DEATH OF QVIXADA. 137 

dent, stating that the surgeons had made six incisions 
before they could ascertain where the ball, which had 
penetrated the shoulder, was lodged, and that, with all 
their efforts, they had as yet been unable to extract it. 
" I now deeply feel," he says, " how much I have been 
indebted to his military experience, his diligence and 
care, and how important his preservation is to the 
service of your majesty, I trust in God he may be 
permitted to regain his health, which is now in a 
critical condition.") 

In his reply to this letter, the king expressed his sense 
of the great loss which both he and his brother would 
sust^n by the death of Quixada. " You will keep me 
constantly advised of the state of his health," he says. 
" I know well it is unnecessary for me to impress upon 
you the necessity of watching carefully over him." 
Philip did not let the occasion pass for administering 
a gentle rebuke to Don John for so lightly holding the 
promise he had made to him from Galera, not again to 
expose himself heedlessly to danger. " IVhen I think 
of your narrow escape at Seron, I cannot express the 
pain I have felt at your rashly incurring such a risk. 
In war, every one should confine himself to the duties 
of his own station ; nor should the general affect to 
play the part of the soldier, any more than the soldier 
that of the general,"' 

Dios que el amoi de los hljos y parientes sea la causa jr no miedo de 
los enemigoG," Carta de D. Joan de Austria a] Rey, 19 de Febrcro, 
1570, MS. 

) Ibid. 

* "Qoe cada uno ha de hacer lu oficio ]r no el general de soldodo, 
id el loldado el de general." Carta del Rey d D. Juan de Austria. 34 
de Febreio, iST^t MS. 



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■ ig REBBLLtON OF THE MORISCOES. 

It seems to have been a common opinion that Don 
John was more fond of displaying his personal prowess 
than became one of his high rank ; in short, that he 
showed more the qualities of a knight-errant than those 
of a great commander.' 

Meanwhile, Quixada's wound, which froni the first 
had been .attended with alarming symptoms, grew so 
much worse as to baffle all the skill of the surgeons. 
His sufferings were great, and every hour he grew 
weaker. Before a week had elapsed, it became evi- 
dent that his days were numbered. 

The good knight received the intelligence with com- 
posure, — for he did not fear death. He had not the 
happiness in this solemn hour to have her near him on 
whose conjugal love and tenderness he had reposed for 
so many years,' But the person whom he cherished 

I One evidence of (his is afforded by the frankness of his friend 
kuy Gomel de Silva. " La primera," he writes to Don John. " que 
por cuanio V. Ex.* estl repulado de atrevido y de hombre que 
quiere mas ganar crUllo dc soldado que de general, que mude este 
estilo y se deje gobemar." (Carta de 4 de Mario. 1570, MS.) I( is 
to Don John's credit that, <n his reply, he Ibanks Ruy Gomet warmly 
for his admonition, and t>egs his monitor to reprove him without 
hesitation whenever he deems it neceisaiy, since, now that his 
guardian is gone, there is no other who can lake this litwrty. Carta 
de D. Juan de Austria & Ruy Gomes de Silva, MS. 

> According to Villa&fle, Dofla Magdalena left Madrid on learning 
herhusband'sillness.andtjavelied with such despatch IhatshearriTed 
in time to receive his last sighs. Hita also speaks of her presence at 
his bedside. But, as seven days only elapsed between the date of the 
knight's wound a.nd thai of his death, one finds it difficult to believe 
that this could have allowed time for the courier who brought the 
tidings, and lor the lady afterwards, whether in the saddle or litler, to 
have travelled a distance of over four hundred and fifty miles, along 
execrable roads, with much of the way lying through the wild paises 
of the Alpiyanas. 



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DEATH OF QUIXADA. 339 

next to his wife, Don John of Austria, was by his bed- 
side, watching over him with the affectionate solicitude 
of a son, and ministering those kind offices which soften 
the bitterness of death. The dying man retained his 
faculties to the last, and dictated, though be had not 
the strength to sign, a letter to the king, requesting 
some favor for his widow in consideration of his long 
services. He then gave himself up wholly to his 
spiritual concerns; and on the twenty-fourth of Feb- 
ruary, 1570, he gently expired, in the anns of his 
foster-son, 

Quixada received a soldier's funeral. His obsequies 
were celebrated with the military pomp suited to his 
station. His remains, accompanied by the whole army, 
with arms reversed and banners trailing in the dustj 
were borne in solemn procession to the church of the 
Jeronymites in Caniles; and "we may piously trust," 
says the chronicler, "that the soul of Eton Luis rose up 
to heaven with the sweet incense which burned on the 
altars of St. Jerome ; for he spent his life, and finally 
lost it, in fighting like a valiant soldier the battles of 
the faith."' 

Quixada was austere in his manners, and a martinet 
in enforcing discipline. He was loyal in his nature, 
of spotless integrity, and possessed so many generous 
and knightly qualities that he commanded the respect 
of his comrades ; and the regret for his loss was uni- 

* " Creemos pladosamente que d alini de D. Luis lubiria b1 delo 
con el oloroao incienso que se quem6 ea los altares de S. Gerfiiiimo, 
porque siempre habia empleodo la vida en pelear contra eneraigoa de 
nuestrasanlalii. yportiLIiiiio muriA bataJlando con ellos como soldada 
TaJcroso." Hita. Guerras de Granada, torn. ii. p. 4S7. 
Philip.— Vol. III. 20 



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■30 



REBELLION OP TKE MORISCOES. 



lersat. Philip, writing to Don John, a few days after 
the event, remarks, " I did not think that any letter 
from you could have given me so much pain as that 
acquainting me with the death of Quixada. I fully 
comprehend the importance of his loss both to myself 
and to you, and cannot wonder you should feet it so 
keenly. It is impossible to allude to it without sorrow. 
Yet we may be consoled by the reflection that, living 
and dying as he did, he cannot fall to have exchanged 
this world for a better," " 

Quixada's remains were removed, the year following, 
to his estate at Villagarcia, where his disconsolate widow 
continued to reside. Immediately after her lord's de- 
cease, Don John wrote to Dofia Magdalena, from the 
tamp, a letter of affectionate condolence, which came 
from the fulness of his heart : " Luis died as became 
him, fighting for the glory and safety of his son, and 
covered with immortal honor. Whatever I am, what- 
ever I shall be, I owe to him by whom I was formed, 
or rather begotten in a nobler birth. Dear sorrowing 
widowed mother ! I only am left to you ; and to you 
indeed do I of right belong, for whose sake Luis died 
and you have been stricken with this woe. Moderate 
your grief with your wonted wisdom. Would that I 
were near you now, to dry your tears, or mingle mine 
with them I Farewell, dearest and most honored 
mother 1 and pray to God to send back your son from 
these wars to your bosom." " 

■> Carta del Rey i D. Juan de Austria, 3 de Mano. 1570, MS. 

■■ Tbe letter is translated by Stirling from a tnanuscript. entitled 
" JoanniE Austriaci Vita, auclore Antonio Ossono," in the National 
Ubiaiy at Madrid. See Cloistei Life of Charles the Fifth (Am. edj, 
p.a86. 



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RAPID SUCCESSES OF DON JOHN. jji 

Dofla Magdalena survived her husband many years, 
employing her time in acts of cliarity and devotion. 
From Don John she ever experienced the same filial 
tenderness which he evinces in the letter above quoted. 
Never did he leave the country or return to it without 
first paying his respects to his mother, as he always 
called her. She watched with maternal pride his bril' 
liant career ; and when that was closed by an early 
death, the last link which had hound her to this world 
was snapped forever. Yet she continued to live on 
till near the close of the century, dying in 1598, and 
leaving behind her a reputation for goodness and piety 
little less than that of a saint. 

Don John, having paid the last tribute of respect to 
the memory of his guardian, collected his whole strength 
and marched at once against Scron. But the enemy, 
shrinking from an encounter with so formidable a 
force, had abandoned the place before the approach of 
the Spaniards. The Spanish commander soon after 
encountered El Habaqui in the neighborhood, and de- 
feated him. He then marched on Tljola, a town perched 
on a bold cliff, which a resolute garrison might have 
easily held against an enemy. But the Moriscoes, 
availing themselves of the darkness of the night, stole 
out of the place, and succeeded, without much loss, in 
escaping through the lines of the besiegers." The fall 
of Tljola was followed by that of Purchena. In a short 

" Tfjoltt fa the scene of the story, familiar to every Iotct of Ca»- 
tilian romance, and betler suited lo romance than history, of Ih« 
Moor Tuiani and hia unrortunate mistress, the beautirul Maleha. It 
forms a mosl pleoaing episode in Hila's second volume (pp. 533-540)1 
and is translated with pathos and delicacy by Circourl, Hist, des Aiatw^ 
d'Eapagne, torn. iii. p. 345, et seq. 



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aja SEBELLION OF THE UOSISCOMS. 

time the whole Rio de Almanzora was overrun, and 
the victorious general, crossing the southeastern bor- 
ders of the Alpujarras, established his quarters, on the 
second of May, at Fadules, about two leagues from 
Andarax. 

These rapid successes are not to be explained simply 
by Don John's superiority over the enemy in strength 
or military science. Philip had turned a favorable ear 
to the pope's invitation to join the league against the 
Turk, in which he was complimented by having the 
post of commander-in-chief offered to his brother, 
John of Austria. But before eng^ing in a new war it 
was most desirable for him to be released from that in 
which he was involved with the Moriscoes. He had 
already seen enough of the sturdy spirit of that race to 
be satistied that to accomplish his object by force would 
be a work of greater time than he could well afford. 
The only alternative, therefore, was to have recourse to 
the conciliatory policy which had been so much con- 
demned in the marquis of Mondejar. Instructions to 
that effect were accordingly sent to Don John, who, 
heartily weary of this domestic contest, and longing 
for a wider theatre of action, entered warmly into his 
brother's views. Secret negotiations were soon opened 
with El Habaqui, the Morisco chief, who received the 
offer of such terms for himself and his countrymen as 
left him in no doubt, at least, as to the side on which 
his own interest lay. As a preliminary step, he was to 
withdraw his support from the places in the Rio de 
Almanzora ; and thus the war, brought within the nar- 
rower range of the Alpujarras, might be more easily 
disposed of. This part of his agreement had bees 



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XAPW SUCCESSES OF DON JOHN. 933 

faithfully executed ; and the rebellious district on the 
eastern borders of the Alpujarras had, as we have seen, 
been brought into subjection with little cost of life to 
the Spaniards. 

Don John followed this up by a royal proclamation, 
promising an entire amnesty for the past to all who 
within twenty days should tender their submission. 
They were to be allowed to state the grievances which 
had moved them to take up arms, with an assurance 
that these should be redressed. All who refused to 
profit by this act of grace, with the exception of the 
women, and of children under fourteen years of age, 
would be put to the sword without mercy. 

What was the effect of the proclamation we are not 
informed. It was probably not such as had been an- 
ticipated. The Moriscoes, distressed as they were, did 
not trust the promises of the Spaniards, At least we 
find Don John, who had now received a reinforcement 
of two thousand men, distributing his army into de- 
tachments, with orders to scour the country and deal 
with the inhabitants in a way that should compel them 
to submit. Such of the wretched peasantry as had 
taken refuge in their fastnesses were assailed with shot 
and shell and slaughtered by hundreds. Some, who 
had hidden with their families in the caves in which the 
country abounded, were hunted out by tlieir pursuers, 
or suffocated by the smoke of burning fagots at the 
entrance of their retreats. Everywhere the land was 
laid waste, so as to afford sustenance for no living thing. 
Such were the conciliatory measures employed by the 
government for the reduction of the rebels." 

4 Uaimot, RebetJOD de Granada, torn. il. pp. 390-3M, 340-346^— 



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■•34 



REBELLION OF THE MOKISCOBS. 



Meanwhile, the duke of Sesa had taken the field on 
the northehi border of the Alpujarras, with an anny 
of ten thousand foot and two thousand horse. He was 
oppoiied by Aben-Aboo with a force which in point of 
numbers was not inferior to his own. The two com- 
manders adopted the same policy; avoiding pitched 
battles, and confining themselves to the desultory tactics 
of guerilla warfare, — to skirmishes and surprises; while 
each endeavored to distress his adversary by cutting off 
his convoys and by wasting the territory with fire and 
sword. The Morisco chief had an advantage in the 
familiarity of his men with this wild mountain- fighting, 
and in their better knowledge of the intricacies of the 
country. But this was far more than counterbalanced 
by the superiority of the Spaniards in military organi- 
sation, and by their possession of cavalry, artillery, and 
muskets, in all of which the Moslems were lamentably 
deficient. Thus, although no great battle was won by 
the Christians, although they were sorely annoyed, and 
their convoys of provisions frequently cut off, by the 
skirmishing-parties of the enemy, they continued stead- 
ily to advance, driving the Moriscoes before them, and 
securing the permanency of their conquests by planting 
a line of forts, well garrisoned, along the wasted terri- 
tory in their rear. By the beginning of May the duke 
of Sesa had reached the borders of the Mediterranean, 
and soon after united his forces, greatly diminished 
by desertion, to those of Don John of Austria at 
Padules." 

Vanderliammen, Don Junn de Austria, fcil. II9, et Kq. — Ferrerai, 
Hi5(. d'Eapagne, torn. i. p. 170. et seq. 
** MendDza, Guena de Gnmada. p. 271, et leq. — Uannol, R(4>eliaD 



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RAPID SUCCESSES OF DON JOHIT. 335 

Negotiations during this time had been resumed with 
El Habaqui, who, with the knowledge, if not the avowed 
sanction, of Aben-Aboo, had come to a place called 
Fondon de Andarax, not far distant from the head* 
quarters of the Spanish commander-in-chief. He was 
accompanied by several of the principal Moriscoes, 
who were to take part in the discussions. On the 
thirteenth of May they were met by the deputies from 
the Castilian camp, and the conference was opened. 
It soon appeared that the demands of the Moriscoes 
were wholly inadmissible. They insisted not only on 
a general amnesty, but that things should be restored 
to the situation in which they were before the edicts 
of Philip the Second had given rise to the rebellion. 
The Moorish commissioners were made to understand 
that they were to negotiate only on the footing of a 
conquered race. They were advised to prepare a 
memorial preferring such requests as might be reason- 
ably granted ; and they were offered the services of 
Juan de Soto, Don John's secretary, to dd them in 
drafting the document. They were counselled, more- 
over, to see their master, Aben-Aboo, and obtain full 
powers from him to conclude a definitive treaty. 

Aben-Aboo, ever since his elevation to the stormy 
sovereignty of the Alpujarras, had maintained his part 

de Granada, lom. ii. pp. 383-089, 303-313, 3ai, et seq. — In a letter 
without date, of the duke of Sesa, forming part of a maas of corre- 
spondence which I was so fortunate as to obtain from the collection 
at Holland House, be insists on starvation as a much more effectual 
means of reducing the enemy than the sword : " Esta guerra parece 
qua no puede acatiarse por medio mas cierto que el de la hambre que 
neeeaitaid d los enemigos i rendirse 6 perecer. jr esta lo* acsJuui 
piimcro que el apada." MS. 



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(36 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

with a spirit worthy of his cause. But as he beheld 
town after town fall away from his little empire, his 
people butchered or swept into slavery, his lands 
burned and wasted, until the fairest portions were 
converted into a wilderness, — above all, when he saw 
that his cause excited no sympathy in the bosoms of 
the Moslem princes, on whose support he had mainly 
relied, — he felt more and more satisfied of the hope- 
lessness of a contest with the Spanish monarchy. His 
officers, and indeed the people at large, had come to 
the same conviction ; and nothing but an intense hatred 
of the Spaniards, and a distrust of their good faith, had 
prevented the Moriscoes from throwing down their arms 
and accepting the promises of grace which had been 
held out to them. The disastrous result of the recent 
campaign against the duke of Sesa tended still further 
to the discouragement of the Morisco chief; and El 
Habaqui and his associates returned with authority 
from their master to arrange terms of accommodation 
with the Spaniards. 

On the nineteenth of May the commissioners from 
each side again met at Fondon de Andarax. A memo- 
rial drafted by Juan de Soto was laid before Don John, 
whose quarters, as we have seen, were in the immediate 
neighborhood. No copy of the instrument has been 
preserved, or at least none has been published. From 
the gracious answer returned by the prince, we may 
infer that it contained nothing deemed objectionable 
by the conquerors. 

The deputies were not long in agreeing on terms 
of accommodation, — or rather of submission; It was 
settled that the Morisco captain should proceed to the 



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SUSMISSION OF THE itORISCOES. 



337 



Christian camp, and thei«, presenting himself before 
the commander-in-chief, should humbly crave forgive- 
ness and tender submission on behalf of his nation ; 
that in return for this act of humiliation a general 
amnesty should be granted to his countrymen, who, 
though they were no longer to be allowed to occupy 
the Alpujarras, would be protected by the government 
wherever they might be removed. More important 
concessions were made to Aben-Aboo and El Habaqui. 
The last -mentioned chief, as the chronicler tells us, 
obtained all that he asked for his master, as well as for 
himself and his friends." Such politic concessions by 
the Spaniards had doubtless their inHuence in opening 
the eyes of the Morisco leaders to the folly of protract- 
ing the war in their present desperate circumstances. 

The same evening on which the arrangement was 
concluded. El Habaqui proceeded to his interview with 
the Spanish commander. He was accompanied by one 
only of the Morisco deputies. The others declined to 
witness the spectacle of their nation's humiliation. He 
was attended, however, by a body of three hundred 
arquebusiers. On entering the Christian lines, his little 
company was surrounded by four regiments of Castilian 
infantry and escorted to the presence of John of Aus- 
tria, who stood before his tent, attended by his officers, 
from whom his princely bearing made him easily dis- 
tinguished. 

El Habaqui, alighting from his horse and prostrating 
himself before the prince, exclaimed, " Mercy 1 We 

■s ■■ Con eslas cosas y otras particxilares que El Habaqui pidi6 para 
Aben Aboo, y para los amigoa, y para si mismo, que (odas se le co» 
eadieroD." Manuol, Rebelioo de Granada, toni. ii. p. 360. 



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»38 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

implore your highness, in the name of his majesty, to 
BhoT us mercy, aiid to pardon our transgressions, which 
we acknowledge have been great !" "• Then unsheathing 
his scimitar, he presented it to Don John, saying that 
he surrendered his arms to his majesty in the name of 
Aben-Alx)o and the rebel chiefs for whom he was em- 
powered to act. At the same time the secretary, Juan 
de Soto, who had borne the Moorish banner, given him 
by El Habaqui, on the point of his lance, cast it on the 
ground before the feet of the prince. The whole scene 
made a striking picture, in which the proud conqueror, 
standing with the trophies of victory axound him, looked 
down on the representative of the conquered race, as he 
crouched in abject submission at his feet. Don John, 
the predominant figure in the tableau, by his stately 
demeanor tempered with a truly royal courtesy, re- 
minded the old soldiers of his father the emperor, and 
they exclaimed, "This is the true son of Charles the 
Fifth 1" 

Stooping forward, he graciously raised the Morisco 
chief from the ground, and, returning him his sword, 
bade him employ it henceforth in the service of the 
king. The ceremony was closed by flourishes of 
trumpets and salvoes of musketry, as if in honor of 
some great victory. 

El Habaqui remained some time after his followers 
had left the camp, where he met with every attention, 
was feasted and caressed by the principal officers, and 
was even entertained at a banquet by the bishop of 

■< " Misericordia.. Sefior, miiericordia. ncn conceda vueitiB Alten en 
nombre de lu Mageslad, j peidon de nueslns culpaa, que conocenm 
batMC lido graves." Marmol, Rebelion de Gnmada, lorn. iL p. 361 



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SUBMISSIOJf OF THE MORISCOBS. 939 

Guadix. He received, however, as we have seen, some* 
thing more substantial than compliments. Under these 
circumstances it was natural that he should become an 
object of jealousy and suspicion to the Moriscoes. It 
was soon whispered that El Habaqni, in his negotia- 
tions with the Christians, had been more mindful of his 
own interests than of those of his countrymen." 

indeed, the Moriscoes had little reason to congratu- 
late themselves on the resuli of a treaty which left them 
in the same forlorn and degraded condition as before 
the breaking out of the rebellion, — ^which in one im- 
portant respect, indeed, left them in a worse condition, 
since they were henceforth to become exiles from the 
homes of their fathers. Yet, cruel and pitiable in the 
extreme as was the situation of the Moriscoes, the 
Spanish monks, as Don John complains to his brother, 
inveighed openly in their pulpits against the benignity 
and mercy of the king ;" and this too, he adds, when 
it should rather have been their duty to intercede for 
poor wretches who for the most part had sinned through 
ignorance.** The ecclesiastic on whom his censure 
most heavily falls is the President Deza, — a man held 
in such abhorrence by the Moriscoes as to have been 
one principal cause of their insurrection ; and he be- 
seeches the king to consult the interests of Granada 

f The fullest account of these proceedings is to be found Id 
Marmol, RebcUon de Gmimda, tom. fi. pp. 355-369. 

■* " Predicando en los ptllpilos publicamenle contra la benlgnldad 
jrclemencia que V. M. ha mand^o usar con esta gente." Carta de 
D. Juan de Austria al Rey, 7 dt Junlo, 1570, MS. 

■•"Que los relieiosoa que lubrian de inlerceder eon V. M. por 
- otw miieiableB, que cierto la mayor parte ha pecado cod i|;oanncU, 
hagan M e^uerio en reprender la clemencia." Ibid. 



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340 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

bf bestowing on him a bishopric, or some other dig- 
nity, whicli may remove him from the present scene of 
his labors." 

Among those disappointed at the terms of the treaty, 
as it soon appeared, was Aben-Aboo himself. . At first 
he affected to sanction it, and promised to do all he 
could to enforce its execution. But he soon cooled, 
and, throwing the blame on El Habaqui, declared that 
this officer had exceeded his powers, made a false report 
to him of his negotiations, and sacrificed the interests 
of the nation to his own ambition." The attentions 
lavished on that chief by the Spaniards, his early 
correspondence with them, and the liberal conces- 
sions secured to him by the treaty, furnished plausible 
grounds for such an accusation. 

According to the Spanish accounts, however, Aben- 
Aboo at this time received a reinforcement of two 
hundred soldiers from Barbary, with the assurance that 
he would soon have more effectual aid from Africa. 
This, we are told, changed his views. Nor is it im- 
possible that the Morisco chief, as the hour approached, 
found it a more difficult matter than he had anticipated 
to resign his royal state and descend into the common 

*> " TTie wise king," as BlecU telU u*. " did not foi^et Deia'i emi. 
Kent services. He brcame one of tbe richeit cardinals, pasting the 
remainder of his days in Rome, where be built a samptuoiu palaca 
for his reiidence." (Cronica de Espafia, p. 753.) Unlbrtunalely. thit 
happy preferment did not take place till some time later, — too late for 
the poor Moriscoes to profit by it. 

•■ " Que el Habaqui habia mirado mal por el bien comun, conten- 
tandose con lo que solamenle Don Juan de Austria le habia qnerido 
Eonceder, y procurando el bien y provecho para, si y para siu deudos." 
Mannol. Rebelion de Granada, lorn. li. p. 39a 



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FATE OF EL HABAQUl. 241 

rank and file of the vassals of Castile, — the degraded 
caste of Moorish vassals, whose condition was little 
above that of serfs. 

However this may be, the Spani.h camp was much 
disquieted by the rumors which came in of Aben-Aboo's 
vacillation. It was even reported that, far from en- 
deavoring to enforce the execution of the treaty, he 
was secretly encouraging his people to further resist- 
ance. No one felt more indignant at his conduct than 
El Habaqui, who had now become as loyal a subject 
as any other in Philip's dominions. Not a little personal 
resentment was mingled with his feeling towards Aben- 
Aboo ; and he offered, if Don John would place him at 
the head of a detachment, to go himself, brave the 
Morisco prince in his own- quarters, and bring him as 
a prisoner to the camp. Don John, though putting 
entire confidence in EI Habaqui's fidelity," preferred, 
instead of men, to give him money; and he placed 
tight hundred gold ducats in his hands, to enable him 
lo raise the necessary levies among his countrymen. 

Thus fortified, El Habaqui set out for the head- 
quarters of Aben-Aboo, at his ancient residence in 
Mecina de Bombaron. On the second day the Morisco 
captain fell in with a party of his countrymen lingering 
idly by the way, and he inquired, with an air of au- 
thority, why they did not go and tender their submis- 
sion to~ the Spanish authorities, as others had done. 
They replied, they were waiting for their master's 

■ " Ed lo que i eslo toca. no tengo mas prendai que la palabia dal 
Hnbaqul, el cual me podiia pngafiar; pera certifico i. V. M. que CD 
In nuuiera de proceder me paresce hombre que Iracia Terdod, f tal 
bma tieDC." Caj-ta de D. Juan de Aujitiia iX Rey, ai de Mayo, 
1570. MS. 

Ki-Jip.— Vol. III.— l 31 



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441 KEBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

orders. To this El Habaqui rejoined, "All are bound 
to submit ; and if Aben-Aboo, on his part, shows un> 
willingness to do so, I will arrest him at once and drag 
hira at my horse's tail to the Christian camp."' This 
oolish vaunt cost the bra^art his life. 

One of the party instantly repaired to Mecina and 
reported the words to Aben-Aboo. The Morisco 
prince, overjoyed at the prospect of having his enemy 
in his power, immediately sent a detachment of a hun- 
dred and fifty Turks to seize the offender and bring 
him to Mecina. They found £1 Habaqui at Burchal, 
where his family were living. The night had set in 
when the chieftain received tidings of the approach of 
the Turks; and under cover of the darkness he suc- 
ceeded in making his escape Into the neighboring moun- 
tains. The ensuing morning the soldiers followed 
closely on his track; and it was not long before they 
descried a person skulking among the rocks, whose 
white mantle and crimson turban proved him to be the 
object of their pursuit. He was immediately arrested 
and carried to Mecina. His sentence was already 
passed. Aben-Aboo, upbraiding him with his treach- 
ery, ordered him to be removed to an adjoining room, 
where he was soon after strangled. His corpse, denied 
the rites of burial, having been first rolled in a mat 
of reeds, was ignominiously thrown into a sewer; and 
the fate of the unhappy man was kept a secret for mote 
than a month.** 

fl " Que quandoAbenAboodesuvoluntad nolo lilde»e,Iello»«to 
A atado d la cola de lu caballo." Marmol Rebelkm de Granada, 
torn. ii. p. 39a. 

M " La buo afaogat secreiamenie, j mandS ecbat el cueipo ea a* 



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FATE OF EL HABAQUI. 243 

His absence, after some time, naturally excited sus- 
picions in the Spanish camp. A cavalier, known to 
Aben-Aboo, wrote to him to obtain information re- 
specting El Habaqui, and was told in answer, by tb? 
wily prince, that he had been arrested and placed in 
custody for his treacherous conduct, but that his family 
and friends need be under no alarm, as he was perfectly 
safe. Aben-Aboo hinted, moreover, that it would be 
well to send to him some confidential person with whom 
he might arrange the particulars of the treaty, — as if 
these had not been already settled. Afier some further 
delay, Don John resolved to despatch an agent to ascer- 
tain the real dispositions of the Moriscoes towards the 
Christians, and to penetrate, if possible, the mystery 
that hung round the fate of El Habaqui. 

The envoy selected was Heman Valle dc Palacios, a 
cavalier possessed of a courageous heart, yet tempered 
by a caution that well fitted him for the delicate and 
perilous office. On the thirteenth of July he set out 
on his mission. On the way he encountered a MorJsco, 
a kinsman of the late monarch, Aben-Humeya, and 
naturally no friend to Aben-Aboo. He was acquainted 
with the particulars of El Habaqui's murder, of which 
he gave full details to Palacios. He added that the 
Morisco prince, far from acquiescing in the recent 
treaty, was doing all in his power to prevent its execu- 
tion. He could readily muster, at short notice, said 
the informer, a force of five thousand men, well armed, 
and provisioned for three months, and be was using 

auladar eavuelto en u 
dias rin labeise de ■' 
ton. ii. p. 393.' 



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144 SEBELLTON OF THE MOX/SCOES. 

all bi3 efforts to obtain further reinforcements from 
Algiers. 

Instructed in these particulars, the envoy resumed 
his journey. He was careful, however, first to obtain 
a safe-conduct from Aben-Aboo, which was promptly 
sent to him. On reaching Mecina, he found the place 
occupied by a body of five hundred arquebusiers ; but 
by the royal order he was allowed to pass unmolested. 
Before entering the presence of " the little king of the 
Alpujarras," as Aben-Aboo, like his predecessor, was 
familiarly styled by the Spaniards, Palacios was care- 
fully searched, and such weapons as he carried about 
him were taken away. 

He found Aben-Aboo stretched on a divan, and 
three or four Moorish girls entertaining him with their 
national songs and dances. He did not rise, or indeed 
change his position, at the approach of the envoy, but 
gave him audience with the lofty bearing of an inde- 
pendent sovereign. 

Palacios did not think it prudent to touch on the 
fate of El Habaqui. After expatiating on the liberal 
promises which he was empowered by Don John of 
Austria to make, he expressed the hope that Aben-Aboo 
would execute the treaty, and not rekindle a war which 
must lead to the total destruction of his country. The 
chief listened in silence ; and it was not till he had 
called some of his principal captains around him that 
he condescended to reply. He then said that God and 
the whole world knew it was not by his own desire, but 
by the will of the people, that he had been placed on 
the throne. "I shall not attempt," he said, "to pre- 
vent any of my subjects from submitting that prefer to 



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RENEWAL OF THE WAX. 



»45 



do so. But tell your master," he added, " that, while I 
have a single shirt to my back, I shall not follow theii 
example. Though no other man should hold out in 
the Alpujarras, I woujd rather live and die a Mussulman 
than possess all the favors which King Philip can heap 
on me. At no time, and in no manner, will I ever 
consent to place myself in his power."* He con- 
cluded this spirited declaration by adding that, if 
driven to it by necessity, he could bury himself in a 
cavern, which he had stowed with supplies for six years 
to come, during which it would go hard but he would 
find some means of making his way to Barbary, The 
desperate tone of these remarks effectually closed the 
audience. Palacios was permitted to return unmo- 
lested, and to report to his commander the failure of 
his mission. 

The war, which Don John had flattered himself he 
had so happily brought to a close, now, like a fire 
smothered but not quenched, burst forth again with 
redoubled fury. The note of defiance was heard 
loudest among the hills of Ronda, a wild sierra on 
the western skirts of the Alpujarras, inhabited by a 
bold and untamed race, more formidable than the 
mountaineers of any other district of Granada. Aben< 
Aboo did all he could to fan the flame of insurrection 
in this quarter, and sent his own brother, Ei Galipe, to 
take the command. 

1 " Que quando no quedase otro sino jl en la Alpuiam con sola 
U camisa que tenia vestida, estimaba maa vivir y morir Moro, que 
todu quantas mercedes el Rey Filipe le podia hacer; j que fuesc 
cierto. que en ningun liempo, ni por Dinguna manera, le pondria eo 
(U poder." Monnol, Rebdion de Granada, torn. ii. p. 410. 



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■46 REBF.LLION OF THE SiORISCOES. 

The Spanish government, now fiilly aroused, mads 
more vigorous efforts to crush the spirit of rebellion 
than at any time during the war. Don John was 
ordered to occupy Guadix, and thence to scour the 
country in a northerly direction. Another army, under 
the Grand Commander Requesens, marching from 
Granada, was to enter the Alpujarras from the north, 
and, taking a route different from that of the duke of 
Sesa in the previous campaign, was to carry a war of 
extermination into the heart of the mountains. Finally, 
the duke of Arcos, the worthy descendant of the great 
marquis of Cadiz, whose name was so famous in the 
first war of Granada, and whose large estates in this 
quarter he had inherited, was intrusted with the opera- 
tions against the rebels of the Serrania de Ronda. 

The grand commander executed his commission in 
thesamcremorselessspirit in which it had been dictated. 
Early in September, quitting Granada, he took the field 
at the head of five thousand men. He struck at once 
into the heart of the country. AH the evils of war in 
its most horrid form followed in his train. All along 
his track it seemed as if the land had been swept by a 
conflagration. The dwellings were sacked and burned 
to the ground. The mulberry and olive groves were 
cut down ; the vines were torn up by the roots; and 
the ripening harvests were trampled in the dust. The 
country was converted into a wilderness. Occasionally 
small bodies of the Moriscoes made a desperate stand. 
But for the most part, without homes to shelter or food 
to nourish them, they were driven, like unresisting cattle, 
to seek a refuge in the depths of the mountains, and in 
the caves in which this part of the country abounded. 



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SENEWAL OF THE WAR. 34^ 

Their pursuers followed up the chase with the fierce 
glee with which the hunter tracks the wild animal of 
the forest to his lair. There they were huddled to- 
gether, one or two hundred frequently in the same 
cavern. It was not easy to detect the hiding-place 
amidst the rocks and thickets which covered up and 
concealed the entrance. But when it was detected it 
was no difficult matter to destroy the inmates. The 
green bushes furnished the materials for a smouldering 
fire, and those within were soon suffocated by the smoke, 
or, rushing out, threw themselves on the mercy of their 
pursuers. Some were butchered on the spot; others 
were sent to the gibbet or the galleys ; while the greater 
part, with a fate scarcely less terrible, were given up as 
the booty of the soldiers and sold into slavery.** 

Aben-Aboo had a narrow escape in one of these 
caverns, not far from B^rchul, where he had secreted 
himself with a wife and two of his daughters. The 
women were suffocated, with about seventy other per- 
sons. The Morisco chief succeeded in making his 
escape through an aperture at the farther end, which 
was unknown to his enemies." 

Small forts were erected at short intervals along the 
ruined country. No less than eighty-four of these 
towers were raised in different parts of the land, twenty- 
nine of which were to be seen in the Alpujarras and the 

^ tr is rhe language of Marniol, who will not be suspected of exag- 
geraling (he cruelties of his countrymen. He does not seem, indeed. 
lo regard Ihem as cruelties : " IJnos enviaba el Comendador mayor i 
las galeras, olros hacia justicia de ellos, y los mas conseniia que lo* 
vendiesen los soldados para que fuesen aprovechados." Rebelion da 
Granada, tom, ii. p, 436. 

" Ibid., p. 433. 



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i4« SEBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

vale of Lecrin alone.' There they stood, crowning 
every peak and eminence in the sierra, frowning over 
the horrid waste, the sad memorials of the conquest. 
This was the stem policy of the victors. Within this 
rocky girdle, long held as it was by the iron soldiery 
of Castile, it was impossible that rebellion should again 
gather to a head. 

Tlie months of September and October were con- 
sumed in these operations. Meanwhile, the duke of 
Arcos had mustered his Andalusian levies, to the num- 
ber of four thousand men, including a thousand of his 
own vassals. He took with him his son, a boy of not 
more than thirteen years of a%(t, — following in this, 
says the chronicler, the ancient usage of the valiant 
house of Ponce de Leon." About the middle of Sep- 
tember he began his expedition into the Sierra Vermeja, 
or Red Sierra. It was a spot memorable in Spanish 
history for the defeat and death of Alonso de Aguilar, 
in the time of Ferdinand and Isabella, and has fur- 
nished the theme of many a plaintive romance in the 
beautiful minstrelsy of the South. The wife of the 
duke of Arcos was descended from Alonso de Aguilar, 
as he himself was the grandson of the good count of 
Urefia, who, with better fortune than his friend, sur- 
vived the disasters of that day. The route of the army 



dbliicts or Ilie counuy. Hist, des Arabes d'Espagne, lorn. iii. pp. 
>3S. '36. 

■t ■' Uevando cerca de si a su hijo, moio quasi de trece aBos Don 
Luis Ponce de Leon, cosa usada en otra edad en aquella Casa de las 
Ponces de Leon, criaise los muchachos peleando cod Ios Moros. 1 
lener a 5US padres por maestros." Meudoza, Guerra de Granada 
p. 318. 



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RENEWAL OF THE WAR. 



149 



led directly across the fatal field. As they traversed 
the elevated plain of Calaluz, the soldiers saw every- 
where around the traces of the fight. The ground was 
still covered with fragments of rusty armor, bits of 
broken sword-blades, and heads of spears. More 
touching evidence was afforded by the bones of men 
and horses, which, in this solitary region, had tieen 
whitening in the blasts of seventy winters. The Span- 
iards knew well the localities, with which they had be- 
come familiar from boyhood in the legends and tradi- 
tions of the country. Here was the spot where the 
vanguard, under its brave commander, had made its 
halt in the obscurity of the night. There were the 
faint remains of the enemy's in frenchmen ts, which 
time had nearly levelled with the dust ; and there, too, 
the rocks still threw their dark shadows over the plain, 
as on the day when the valiant Alonso de Agultar fell 
at their base in combat with the renowned F^ri de Ben 
Estepar. The whole scene was broi^ht home to the 
hearts of the Spaniards. As they gazed on the un- 
buried relics lying around them, the tears, says the 
eloquent historian who records the incident, fell fast 
down their iron cheeks, and they breathed a soldier's 
prayer for the repose of the noble dead. But these 
holier feelings were soon succeeded by others of a fierce 
nature, and they loudly clamored to be led against the 
enemy. '■ 

]° Por (he celebrated description of this event by Mendoza, tint 
Guerra de Granada, pp. 301, 303. Tbe Castilian hislonan. who 
probably borrowed the hint of it from Tacilus (Annales, lib. i. sec. 
31), has painted the scene with a consummale art that raises him 
Iram the rank of an imitator to that of a lival. Tbe reader may 
find a circiuiulantial account of Alonso de Agullar's disastrous ev 



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aSo 



REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 



The duke of Arcos, profiting by the errors of Alonso 
de Aguilar, had made his arrangements with great 
circumspection. He soon came in sight of the Moris- 
coes, full three thousand strong. But, though well 
posted, they made a defence little worthy of their 
ancient reputation, or of the notes of defiance which 
they had so boldly sounded at the opening of the 
campaign. They indeed showed mettle at first, and 
inflicted some loss on the Christians. But the frequent 
reverses of their countrymen seemed to have broken 
their spirits, and they were soon thrown into disorder, 
and fled in various directions into the more inaccessible 
tracts of the sierra. The Spaniards followed up the 
fugitives, who did not attempt to rally. Nor did they 
ever again assemble in any strength, so effectual were 
the dispositions made by the victorious general. The 
insurrection of the Sierra Vermeja was at an end." 

The rebellion, indeed, might be said to be every- 
where crushed within the borders of Granada. The 
more stout-hearted of the insurgents still held out 
among the caves and fastnesses of the Alpujarras, sup- 
porting a precarious existence until they were hunted 
down by detachments of the Spaniards, who were 
urged to the pursuit by the promise from government 
of twenty ducats a head for every Morisco. But nearly 
alt felt the impracticability of further resistance. Some 
succeeded in making their escape to Barbary, The rest, 
broken in spirit, and driven to extremity by want of 

pedilion, in 1501, in ihe History of Ferdinand and Isabella, part ii 
ch.7- 

9 Mendoia, Gueira de Gianada. pp. 398-314. — Mannol, Rdielioa 
de Giaiuda. toni. ii. pp. 435-431. 



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EXPULSION OF THE MOORS. 



»SI 



food in a country now turned into a desert, consented 
at length to accept the amnesty offered thera, and 
tendered their submission. 

On the twenty-eighth of October Don John received 
advices of a final edict of Philip, commanding that all 
the Moriscoes in the kingdom of Granada should be at 
once removed into the interior of the country. None 
were to be excepted from this decree, not even the 
Moriscos de la Pas, as those were called who had 
loyally refiised to take part in the rebellion." The 
arrangements for this important and difficult step were 
made with singular prudence, and, under the gen- 
eral direction of Don John of Austria, the Grand 
Commander Requesens, and the dukes of Sesa and 
Arcos, were carried into effect with promptness and 
energy. 

By the terms of the edict, the lands and houses of 
the exiles were to be forfeited to the crown. But their 
personal effects — their flocks, their h»ds, and their 
grain — would be taken, if they desired it, at a fixed 
valuation by the government. Every regard was to be 
paid to their personal convenience and security ; and 
it was forbidden, in the removal, to separate parents 
from children, husbands from wives, in short, to divide 

V Circourt quotes a remarkable passage from the Oritnamai dt 
Granada, which well Ulustrates the conscientious manner in which 
the government dealt with the Moriscoes. It forms the preamble of 
the law of February 34th, 1571. " The Moriscoes who look no pari in 
the insurrection ought not 10 be punished. We should not desire to 
injure Ihem; but they ciuinolhereaftercullivaie their lands; and then 
it would be an endless task to attempt lo separate the innocetil from 
the guilty. We shall Indemni^ them, cerlainly. Meanwhile, Iheit 
otales must be confiscated, like those of Uie rebel Moriscoes." Hist 
de> Arabes d'Espagne, lom. iii. p. 14S. 



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3^2 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

the members of a family from one another, — "an act 
of clemency," says a humane chronicler, "which they 
little deserved ; but his majesty was willing in this to 
content them. ' ' " 

The country was divided into districts, the inhabitants 
of which were to be conducted, under the protection of 
a strong military escort, to their several places of desti- 
nation. These seem to have been the territory of La 
Mancha, the northern borders of Andalusia, the Cas- 
tiles, Estremadura, and even the remote province of 
Galicia. Care was taken that no settlement should be 
made near the borders of Murcia or Valencia, where 
large numbers of the Moriscoes were living in com- 
parative quiet on the estates of the great nobles, who 
were exceedingly jealous of any interference with their 
vassals. 

The first of November, AU-Sainls' Day, was appointed 
for the removal of the Moriscoes throughout Granada. 
On that day they were gathered in the principal churches 
of their districts, and, after being formed into their 
respective divisions, began their march. The grand 
commander had occupied the passes of the Alpujarras 
with strong detachments of the military. The different 
columns of emigrants were placed under the direction 
of persons of authority and character. The whole 
movement was conducted with singular order, — resist- 
ance being attempted in one or two places only, where 
the blame, it may be added, as intimated by a Castilian 
chronicler, was to be charged on the brutality of the 

n -' Que las casas Tuesen y estiiviesen juntas ; porque aunque lo 
meredan poco. quiso su Magestad que M les diese eate C0Ole»l«' 
UamiQj, KubelioD de Granada, tom. ii. p. 439. 



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EXPULSION OP' THE MOORS. 153 

soldiers." Still, the removal of the Moriscoes, on the 
present occasion, was attended with fewer acts of 
violence and rapacity than the former removal, from 
Granada. At least this would seem to be inferred by 
the silence of the chroniclers ; though it is true such 
silence is lar from being conclusive, as the chroniclers, 
for the most part, felt too little interest in the sufferings 
of the Moriscoes to make a notice of them indispensa* 
ble. However this may be, it cannot be doubted that, 
whatever precautions may have been taken to spare the 
exiles any unnecessary suffering, the simple fact of their 
being expelled from their native soil is one that suggests 
an amount of misery not to be estimated. For what 
could be more dreadful than to be thus torn from their 
pleasant homes, the scenes of their childhood, where 
every mountain, valley, and stream were as familiar 
friends, — a part of their own existence, — to be nidely 
thrust into a land of strangers, of a race different from 
themselves in faith, language, and institutions, with no 
sentiment in common but that of a deadly hatred? 
That the removal of a whole nation should have been so 
quietly accomplished, proves how entirely the strength 
and spirit of the Moriscoes must have been broken by 
iheir reverses.* * 

It " Saquearon los soldados lai casas del lugar. y tomaran (odas lat 
mugeres por esclavas ; cosa que di^ hana sospccha. de que la desordea 
faabia nacido de su cudicia." Maimol, Rebelion de GraJiado, torn. ii. 
p. 444.— The bener feelings of the old soldier occa^ooally — and it U 
DO small praUe, considering the times — tiiumpb over his nalioiul 
uilipatbies. 

■ For the removj] and dispeisiou of tbe Moriscoes, see Manual, 

Rebelion de Granada, torn. ii. pp. 437-444. — Ferrerax, Hist. d'Espagn^ 

torn. I. pp. 337. 3sa, — VanderhammeD, Don Juan de Austria, fbl. iiA, 

—It may well seem strange that an event of such moment ai Ih* 

Philip.— Vol. Ill, aa 



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354 REBELLION ok THE MORISCOES. 

The war thus temiinated, there seemed no reason for 
John of Austria to prolong his stay in the province. 
For some time he had been desirous to obtain the king's 
consent to his return. His ambitious spirit, impatient 
of playing a part on what now seemed to him an obscure 
field of action, pent up within the mountain-barrier of 
the Alpujarras, longed to display itself on a bolder 
theatre before the world. He aspired, too, to a more 
independent command. He addressed repeated letters 
to the king's ministers, — to the Cardinal Espinosa and 
Ruy Gomez de Silva in particular, — to solicit their 
influence in his behalf. "I should be glad," he wrote to 
the latter, "to serve his majesty, if I might be allowed, 
on some business of importance. I wish he may under- 
stand that I am no longer a boy. Thank God, I can 
begin to fly without the aid of others' wings, and it is 
full time, as I believe, that I was out of swaddling- 
clothes."" In another letter he expresses his desire to 
have some place more fitting the brother of such a 
monarch as Philip and the son of such a father as 
Charles the Fifth." On more than one occasion he 
lemqval of the Moriscoes should have been barely noticed, when 
Indeed noticed at all. by the general historian. It isslillmore strange 
that it should have been passed over in si^nce by a writer like Men- 
doia., to whose narrative It essentially belonged, and who could bestow 
thirty pages or more on the expedition Inlo the Serrania de Ronda. 
But this was a tale of Spanish glory. The haughty Castiliau chran- 

thought on their calamities, except so ^ as they enabled bim CO 
erhibit the prowess of his countrymen, 

J" " Quenia tambien que alii se eniendiese que ya no loy mochacho, 
1 que puedo. i. Diosgracias. comeniar en alguna maneta d volar sio 
alas ajenas, y sospecho ques ya tiempo de sallr de pailales." Carta da 
D. Juan de Austria i. Ruy Gomes de Silva, i6 Ak Mayo. 1^70, MS. 

» " No teniendo el lugar y auotoridad que ha da lener hijo de Ml 



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DON JOHN RETURNS TO MADRID. 255 

Alludes to the command against the Turk as the great 
object of his ambition. 

His importunity to be allowed to resign his present 
office had continued from the beginning of summer, 
■ome months before the proper close of the campaign. 
It may be thought .to argue an instability of character, 
of which a more memorable example was afforded by 
him at a later period of life. A' length he was rejoiced 
by obtaining the royal consent to resign his command 
and return to court. 

On the eleventh of November, Don John repaired to 
Granada. Till the close of the month he was occupied 
with making the necessary arrangements preparatory to 
his departure. The greater part of the army was paid 
off and disbanded. A sufficient number was reserved 
to garrison the fortresses, and to furnish detachments 
which were to scour the country and hunt down such 
Moriscoes as still held out in the mountains. As 
Requesens was to take part in the expedition against 
the Ottomans, the office of captain-general was placed 
in the hands of the valiant duke of Arcos. On the 
twenty-ninth of November, Don John, having com- 
pleted his preparations, quitted Granada and set forth 
on his journey to Madrid, where the popular chieftain 
was welcomed with enthusiasm by the citizens, as a 
conqueror returned from a victorious campaign. By 
Philip and his newly-married bride, Anne of Austria, 
he was no less kindly greeted ; and it was not long 
before the king gave a substantial proof of his con- 
tentment with his brother, by placing in his hands the 
in it AntUis i, 



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S56 kEBELLION OF THE MOK/SCOES. 

baton offered by the allies of gencr^issimo in the wai 
against the Turks. 

There was still one Morisco insurgent who refused to 
submit, and who had hitherto eluded every attempt to 
capture him, but whose capture was of more importance 
than that of any other of his nation. This was Aben- 
Aboo, the "little king" of the Alpujarras. His force 
of five thousand men had dwindled to scarcely more 
than four hundred. But they were men devoted to his 
person, and seemed prepared to endure every extremity 
rather than surrender. Like the rest of his nation, the 
Morisco chief took refuge in the mountain -caves, in 
such remote and inaccessible districts as had hitherto 
baffled every attempt to detect his retreat. In March, 
1571, an opportunity presented itself for making the 
discovery. 

Granada was at this time the scene of almost dail; 
executions. As the miserable insurgents were taken, 
they were brought before Deza's tribunal, where they 
were at once sentenced by the inexorable president to 
the galleys or the gibbet, or the more horrible doom 
of being torn in pieces with red-hot pincers. Among 
the pnsoners sentenced to death was one Zatahari, who 
was so fortunate as to obtain a respite of his punishment 
at the intercession of a goldsmith named Barredo, a per- 
son of much consideration in Granada. From gratitude 
for this service, or perhaps as the price of it, Zatahari 
made some important revelations to his benefactor re- 
specting Aben-Aboo. He disclosed the place of his 
retirement and the number of his followers, adding 
that the two persons on whom he most relied were hii 
KCKtary, Abou-Amer, and a Moorish captain named 



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MUADER OF ABEN-AItOO 



'ST 



El Senix. The former of these persons was known to 
Barredo, who in the course of his business had frequent 
occasion to make journeys into the Alpujarras. Hr 
resolved to open a correspondence witlf the secretary, 
and, if possible, win him over to the Spanish interests. 
Zatahari consented to bear the letter, on condition of 
a pardon. This was readily granted by the president, 
who approved the plan, and who authorized the most 
liberal promises to Abou-Amer in case of his co-opera- 
tion with Barredo. 

Unfortunately, — or, rather, fortunately for Zatahari, 
as it proved, — ^he was interc-'pted by E! Senix, who, 
getting possession of the letter, carried it to Abou- 
Amer. The loyal secretary was outraged by this 
attempt to corrupt him. He would have put the 
messenger to death, had not El Senix represented 
that the poor wretch had undertaken the mission only 
to save his life. 

Privately the Moorish captain assured the messenger 
that Barredo should have sought a conference with 
him, as he was ready to enter into negotiations with the 
Christians. In fact, El Senix had a grudge against his 
master, and had already made an attempt to leave his 
service and escape to Barbary. 

A place of meeting was accordingly appointed in 
. the Alpujarras, to which Barredo secretly repaired. 
El Senix was furnished with an assurance, under the 
president's own hand, of a pardon for himself and his 
friends, and of an annual pension of a hundred thou- 
sand maravedis, in case he should bring Aben-Aboo, 
dead or alive, to Granada. 

The interview could not be conducted so secretly but 



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ajS REBBLLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

that an intimation of it reached the ears of Aben-Aboo, 
who resolveil to repair at once to the quarters of El 
Senix and ascertain the truth for himself. That chief 
had secreted himself in a cavern in the neighborhood. 
Aben-Aboo took with him his faithful secretary and a 
small body of soldiers. On reaching the cave, he left 
his followers without, and, placing two men at the en- 
trance, he, with less prudence than was usual with him, 
passed alone into the interior. 

There he found El Senix, surrounded by several of 
his friends and kinsmen. Aben-Aboo, in a peremptory 
tone, charged him with having held a secret corre- 
spondence with the enemy, and demanded the object 
of his late interview with Barredo. Senix did not 
attempt to deny the charge, but explained his motives 
by saying that he had been prompted only by a desire 
to serve his master. He had succeeded so well, he said, 
as to obtain from the president an- assurance that if the 
Morisco would lay down his arms he should receive 
an amnesty for the past and a liberal provision for the 
future. 

Aben-Aboo listened scornfully to this explanation; 
then, muttering the word " Treachery !" he turned on 
his heel and moved towards the mouth of the cave, 
where he had left his soldiers, intending probably to 
command the arrest of his perfidious officer. But he 
had not given them, it appears, any intimation of the 
hostile object of his visit to El Senix ; and the men, 
supposing it to be on some matter of ordinary business, 
had left the spot to see some of their friends in the 
neighborhood. £1 Senix saw that no time was to ba 
lost. On a signal which he gave, his followers attacked 



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MURDER OF ABENABOO. 



«S9 



the two guards at the door, one of whom was killed on 
the spot, while the other made his escape. They then 
all fell upon the unfortunate Aben-Aboo. He made a 
desperate defence. But though the struggle was fierce, 
the odds were too great for it to be long. It was soon 
terminated by the dastard Senix coming behind his 
master and with the butt-end of his musket dealing 
him a blow on the back of his head, that brought him 
to the ground, where he was quickly despatched by a 
multitude of wounds.' 

The corpse was thrown out of the cavern. His fol- 
lowers, soon learning their master's fate, dispersed in 
different directions. The faithful secretary fell shortly 
af^er into the hands of the Spaniards, who, with their 
usual humanity in this war, caused him to be drawn 
and quartered. 

The body of Aben-Aboo was transported to the 
neighborhood of Granada, where preparations were 
made for giving the dead chief a public entrance into 
the city, as if he had been still alive. The corpse was 
set astride on a mule, and supported erect in the saddle 
by a wooden frame, which was concealed beneath ample 
robes. On one side of the body rode Barredo ; on 
the other. El Senix, bearing the scimitar and arquebuse 
of his murdered master. Then followed the kinsmen 
and friends of the Morisco prince, with their arms by 
their side. A regiment of Castilian infantry and a 
troop of horse brought up the rear. As the procession 
defiled along the street of Zacatin, it was saluted by 

* Marmol, Rebelion de Granada, lom. U. pp, 449-454. — Mendoia, 
Guerra de Granada, pp, 334-327.— Bleda, Cronica de Espafia, p. 
75a.— Herrera. Histoiia general, lom. i. p. 781.— Vnnderliaminen, 



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t6o XEBELL/ON OF THE MOKISCO^^. 

salvoes of musketry, accompanied by peals of artillery 
from the ancient towers of the Alhambra, while the 
population of Granada, with eager though silent curi- 
osity, hurried out to gaze on the strange and ghastly 
spectacle. 

In this way the company reached the great square 
of Vivarambia, where were assembled the president, 
the duke of Arcos, and the principal cavaliers and 
magistrates of the city. On coming into their pres- 
ence, El Senix dismounted, and, kneeling before Deza, 
delivered to him the arms of Aben-Aboo. He was gra- 
ciously received by the president, who confirmed the 
assurances which had been given him of the royal favor. 
The miserable ceremony of a public execution was then 
gone through with. The head of the dead man was 
struck off. His body was given to the boys of the 
city, who, after dragging it through the streets with 
scoffs and imprecations, committed it to the flames. 
Such was one of the lessons by which the Spaniards 
early stamped on the minds of their children an in- 
delible hatred of the Morisco. 

The head of Aben-Aboo, enclosed in a cage, was set 
up over the gate which opened on the Alpujarras. 
There, with the face turned towards his native hills, 
which he had loved so well and which had witnessed 
his brief and disastrous reign, it remained for many 
year. None ventured, by removing it, to incur the 
doom which an inscription on the cage denounced on 
the offender : " This is the head of the traitor, Aben- 
Aboo. Let no one take it down, under penalty of 
death," » 

« " EfU ei b caheia del traidor de Abcnabd. Nadie la quUe u 



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MURDER OF ABEN-ABOO. 361 

Such was the sad fate of Aben-Aboo, the last of the 
royal line of the Omeyades who ever ruled in the 
Peninsula. Had he lived in the peaceful and prosper- 
ous times of the Arabian empire in Spain, he might 
have swayed the sceptre with as much renown as the 
best of his dynasty. Though the blood of the Moor 
flowed in his veins, he seems to have been remarkably 
free from some of the greatest defects in the Moorish 
character. He was temperate in his appetites, present- 
ing in this respect a contrast to the gross sensuality of 
his predecessor. He had a lofty spirit, was cool and 
circumspect in his judgments, and, if he could not boast 
that fiery energy of character which belonged to some 
of his house, he had a firmness of purpose not to be 
intimylated by suffering or danger. Of this he gave 
signal proof when, as the reader may remember, the 
most inhuman tortures could not extort from him the 
disclosure of the lurking-place of his friends," His 
qualities, as I have intimated, were such as peculiarly 
adapted him to a time of prosperity and peace. Un- 
happily, he had fallen upon evil times, when his country 
lay a wreck at his feet ; when the people, depressed by 
long servitude, were broken down by the recent calami- 
ties of war; when, in short, it would not have been 
possible for the wisest and most warlike of his pre- 
decessors to animate them to a successful resistance 
against odds so overwhelming as those presented by 
the Spanish monarchy in the zenith of its power. 

p«iiB de mnerte." Meiutoia. Guena de Granada, p. 339. — Mairool. 
Rebelion da Granada, lorn. ii. pp. 455, 456.— Bleda, Ctonioa de Es- 
pafia, p. 7Sa.— Minima, Hisl. de EspaBa, p, 3$3. 
•*Aittt p. 93. 



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■ei REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

The Castilian chroniclers have endeavored to fix a 
deep stain on his memory, by charging him with the 
murder of El Habaqui, and with the refusal to execute 
the treaty to which he had given his sanction. But in 
criticising the conduct of Aben-Aboo we must not 
forget the race from which he sprang, or the nature of 
its institutions. He was a despot, and a despot of the 
Oriental type. He was placed in a situation — much 
against his will, it may be added — which gave him 
absolute control over the lives and fortunes of his 
people. His word was their law. He passed the 
sentence, and enforced its execution. EI Habaqui he 
adjudged to be a traitor; and in sentencing him to 
the bowstring he inflicted on him only a traitor's 
doom. 

With regard to the treaty, he spoke of himself as 
betrayed, saying that its provisions were not such as he 
had intended. And when we consider that the instru- 
ment was written in the Spanish tongue, that it was 
drafted by a Spaniard, finally, that the principal Mo- 
risco agent who subscribed the treaty was altogether 
in the Spanish interest, as the favors heaped on him 
without measure too plainly proved, it can hardly be 
doubted that there were good grounds for the assertion 
of Aben-Aboo. From the hour of his accession he 
seems to have devoted himself to the great work of 
securing the independence of his people. He could 
scarcely have agreed to a treaty which was to leave 
tliat people in even a worse state than before the rebel- 
lion. From wliat we know of his character, we may 
more reasonably conclude that he was sincere when he 
told the Spanish envoy Palacios, who bad rome to 



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FORTUNES OF THE MORISCOSS. 263 

press the execution of the treaty and to remind him 
of the royal promises of grace, that " his people might 
rio as they listed, but, for himself, he would rather 
live and die a Mussulman than possess all the favors 
which the king of Spain could heap on him." His 
deeds corresponded with his words ; and, desperate as 
was his condition, he still continued to bid defiance to 
the Spanish government, until he was cut olT by the 
hand of a traitor. 

The death of Aben-Aboo severed the last bond which 
held the remnant of the Moriscoes together. In a few 
years the sword, famine, and the gallows had extermi- 
nated the outcasts who still lurked in the fastnesses of 
the mountains. Their places were gradually occupied 
by Christians, drawn thither by the favorable terms 
which the government offered to settlers. But it was 
long before the wasted and famine-stricken territory 
could make a suitable return to the labors of the colo- 
Dists. They were ignorant of the country, and were 
altogether deficient in the agricultural skill necessary 
for turning its unpromising places to the best accO'int. 
The Spaniard, adventurous as he was, and reckless of 
danger and difficulty in the pursuit of gain, was im- 
patient of the humble drudgery required for the tillage 
of the soil; and many a valley and hill-side, which 
under the Moriscoes had bloomed with all the rich 
embroidery of cultivation, now relapsed into its primi- 
tive barrenness. 

The exiles cairied their superior skill and industry 
into the various provinces where they weiesent. Scat- 
tered as they were, and wide apart, the presence of the 
Moriscoes was sure to be revealed by the more minute 



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t64 REBELUON OF THE MORISCOES. 

and elaborate culture of the soil, — as the secret course 
of the mountain -stream is betrayed by the brighter 
green of the meadow. With their skill in husbandry 
they combined a familiarity with various kinds of 
handicraft, especially those requiring dexterity and 
fineness of execution, that was unknown to the Span- 
iards. As the natural result of this superiority, the 
products of their labor were more abundant and could 
be afforded at a cheaper rate than those of their 
neighbors. Yet this industry was exerted under every 
disadvantage which a most cruel legislation could im- 
pose on it. It would be hard to find in the pages of 
history a more flagrant example of the oppression of 
a conquered race than that afforded by the laws of 
this period in reference to the Moriscoes. The odious 
law of 1566, which led to the insurrection, was put in 
full force. By this the national songs and dances, the 
peculiar baths of the Moriscoes, the fttes and cere- 
monies which had come down to them from their an- 
cestors, were interdicted under heavy penalties. By 
another ordinance, dated October 6th, 1573, still more 
cruel and absurd, they were forbidden to speak or to 
write the Arabic, under penalty of thirty days' im- 
prisonment in irons for the first offence, double that 
term for the second, and for the third a hundred 
lashes and four years' confinement in the galleys. By 
another monstrous provision in the same edict, who- 
ever read, or even had in his possession, a work writ- 
ten or printed in the Arabic, was to be punished with 
a hundred stripes and four years in the galleys. Any 
contract or public instrument made in that tongue was 
to be void, and the parties to it were condemned to 



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FORTUNES OF THE MORISCOBS. 365 

receive two hundred lashes and to tug at the oar for 
six years." 

But the most oppressive part of this terrible ordi- 
nance related to the residence of the Moriscoes. No 
one was allowed to cliange his abode, or to leave the 
parish or district assigned to him, without permission 
from the regular, authorities. Whoever did so, and 
was apprehended beyond these limits, was to be pun- 
ished with a hundred lashes and four years' imprison- 
ment in the galleys. Should he be found within ten 
leagues of Granada, he was condemned, if between 
ten and seventeen years of age, to toil as a galley-slave 
the rest of his days ; if above seventeen, he was sen- 
tenced to death ! ** On the escape of a Morisco from 
his limits, the hue and cry was to be raised as for the 
pursuit of a criminal. Even his o\vn family were re- 
quired to report his absence to the magistrate ; and in 
case of their failure to do this, although it should be 
his wife or his children, says the law, they incurred the 
penalty of a whipping and a month's Imprisonment in 
the common jail." 

Yet in the face of these atrocious enactments we find 
the Moriscoes occasionally making their escape into the 
province of Valencia, where numbers of their country- 
men were living as serfs on the estates of the great 
nobles, under whose powerful protection they enjoyed 
a degree of comfort, if not of independence, unknown 

• Nueva Reoopilacion, lib. Tiii, tiL ii. ley 19. 

•■ " Si eslos tales que se huvieren huydo, y Husentado fueren halUt- 
dm eo el dicho Scyno de Graruula, h deniro de diet leguas cercanai 
k el, caygan k incurran en pena de muerte, que sea en sus peraonai 
eiecutada." Ibid., obi supra. 

Philip.— VOL. III.— M 23 



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166 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

to their race in other paits of the country. Some few 
also, finding their way to the coast, succeeded in 
crossing the sea to Barbaiy. The very severity of the 
law served in some measure to defeat its execution. 
Indeed, Philip, in more than one instance in which he 
deemed that the edicts pressed too heavily on his Moor- 
ish vassals, judged it expedient to mitigate the penalty, 
or even to dispense with it altogether, — an act of le- 
niency which seems to have found little favor with his 
Castilian subjects.** 

Yet, strange to say, under this iron system the spirits 
of the Moriscoes, which had been crushed by their long 
sufferings in the war of the rebellion, gradually rose 
again as they found a shelter in their new homes and 
resumed their former habits of quiet industry. Though 
deprived of their customary amusements, their fites, 
their songs, and their dances, — though debarred from 
the use of the language in which they had lisped from 
the cradle, which embodied their national traditions 
and was associated with their fondest recollections, — 
they were said to be cheerful, and even gay. They 
lived to a good age, and examples of longevity were 
found among them to which it was not easy to find a 
parallel among the Spaniards. The Moorish stock, 
like the Jewish, seems to have thriven under persecu- 
tion." 

One would be glad to find any authentic data for an 
account of the actual population at the time of their 

44 Eiairples of this are cited by Circourt, Hist, des Arabes en Ea- 
p»gne, torn. iii. pp. 150, 151. 

• Ibid., p. 163.— M. de Circourt ha* collected, fron. lome aulheniie 
■nd not very accessible sources, much curious inronnation relative to 
ttui part of his subject. 



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FOJtTUA'ES OF THE JtfOM/SCOES. 967 

e:Lpul3ion from Granada. But I have met with none. 
They must have been sorely thinned by the war of the 
insurrection and the countless woes it brought upon 
the country. One fact is mentioned by the chroniclers 
which shows that the number of the exiles must have 
been very considerable. The small remnant still left 
in Granada, with its lovely vega and the valley of Le- 
crin, alone furnished, we are told, over six thousand.* 
In the places to which they were transported they con- 
tinued to multiply to such an extent that the cortes of 
Castile, in the latter part of the century, petitioned 
the king not to allow the census to be taken, lest it 
might disclose to the Moriscoes the alarming secret of 
their increase of numbers.* Such a petition shows, as 
Strongly as language can show, the terror in which the 
Spaniards still stood of this persecuted race. 

Yet the Moriscoes were scattered over the country 
in small and isolated masses, hemmed in all around by 
the Spaniards. They were transplanted to the interior, 
where, at a distance from the coast, they had no means 
of communicating with their brethren of Africa. They 
were without weapons of any kind ; and, confined to 
their several districts, they had not the power of acting 
in concert together. There would seem to have been 
little to fear from a people so situated. But the weak- 
est individual, who feels that his wrongs are too great 
to be forgiven, may well become an object of dread to 
the person who has wronged him. 

10m. t. p. 137- 

e Tccensement allait leor riviler le 
lecret de lew nombre eArayanl ; qu'lls fourmlllaient." CircDurt. 
Hlal. dta Alabei en EspaKne lorn. lii. p. 164, 



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068 REBELLION OF THE MORISCOES. 

The course of the government in reference to the 
Horiscoes was clearly a failure. It was as impolitic as 
it was barbarous. Nothing but the blindest fanaticism 
could have prevented the Spaniards from perceiving 
this. The object of the government had been to de- 
stroy every vestige of nationality in the conquered race. 
They were compelled to repudiate their ancient usages, 
their festivals, their religion, their language, — all that 
gave them a separate existence as a nation. But this 
served only to strengthen in secret the sentiment of 
nationality. They were to be divorced forever from 
the past. But it was the mistake of the government 
that it opened to them no future. Having destroyed 
their independence as a nation, it should have offered 
them the rights of citizenship and raised them to an 
equality with the rest of the community. Such was the 
policy of ancient Rome towards the nations which she 
conquered ; and such has been that of our own country 
towards the countless emigrants who have thronged to 
our shores from so many distant lands. The Moriscoes, 
on the contrary, under the policy of Spain, were con- 
demned to exist as foreigners in the country, — as ene- 
mies in the midst of the community into which they 
were thrown. Experience had taught them prudence 
and dissimulation ; and in all outward observances they 
conformed to the exactions of the law. But in secret 
they were as much attached to their national institu- 
tions as were their ancestors when the caliphs of C6r- 
dova ruled over half the Peninsula. The Inquisition 
rarely gleaned an apostate from among them to swell 
the horrors of an auto de fe ; but whoever recalls the 
facility with which, in the late rebellion, the whole 



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FORTUNES OF THE MORISCOES. 269 

population had relapsed into their ancient (aith, will 
hardly doubt tliat they must have still continued to be 
Mahometans at heart. 

Thus the gulf which separated the two races grew 
wider and wider every day. The Moriscoes hated the 
Spaniards for the wrongs which they had received from 
them. The' Spaniards hated the Moriscoes the more 
that they had themselves inflicted these wrongs. Their 
hatred was further embittered by the feeling of jealousy 
caused by the successful competition of their rivals in 
the various pursuits of gain, — a circumstance which 
forms a fruitful theme of complaint in the petition of 
the cortes above noticed.* The feeling of hate became 
in time mingled with that of fear, as the Moriscoes 
increased in opulence and numbers ; and men are not 
apt to be over-scrupulous in their policy towards those 
whom they both hate and fear. 

With these evil passions rankling in their bosoms, 
the Spaniards were gradually prepared for the con- 
siunmation of their long train of persecutions by that 
last act, reserved for the reign of the imbecile Philip 
the Third, — the expulsion of the Moriscoes from the 
Peninsula, — an act which deprived Spain of the most 
industrious and ingenious portion of her population, 
aiid which must be regarded as one of the principal 
causes of the subsequent decline of the monarchy. 

1 tous lea milien. tout le commerce." Cii^ 



An historian tess renowned Ihan MeDdoia. but oF more imporlaiice 
n> one wbo would acquaint himself with the story of the Moiisco 



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370 MARMOL. 

rebellion, Is Lub del Maimol Cubajal. LlHle is known of him bul 
what is to be galhered from brief notices of himself in his worlu. 
He was a native of Granada, bul we are not informed of the dale of 
his birth. He was of a good family, and followed Ihe profession of 
anns. When a mere youth, as he tells us, he was present at the 
fiunous siege of Tunis, in 153S' He continued in Ihe imperial service 
two^and-twenty yean. Seven years he was a captive, and followed 
the victorious banner of Mohammed, Scherif of Morocco, In his 
campaigns in Ihe west of Africa. His various fortunes and bis long 
rendence in different parts of the African cpntinent, especially in 
Barbaiy and E^ypt, supplied him wiih abundant information in re- 
spect 10 the subjects of his historical in<julries : and, as he knew the 
Arabic, he made himself acquainted with such ^ts as were to be 
gleaned from books in Ibat language. The fruits of his study and 
observation he gave to the world in his "Dtscripden gtntra! dt 
Africa" a vrork In three volumes, folio, the first part of which ap- 
peared at Granada in 1573. The remainder was not published tiE 
the close of the century. 

The book obtained a high reputation for Its author, who was much 
commended for the fidelity and diligence with which he had pushed 
his researches in a field of tetters inio which the European scholar 
had as yet rarely ventured to penetrate. 

In the year 1600 appeared, ai Malaga, his second work, the " His- 
toria dtl Rtbilit* y Caittga dt bis Mtriscm dtl Reytw dt Granada." 
In one volume, folio. For Ihe composition of this history Ihe author 
was admirably qualified, not only by his familiarity wilh all that re- 
lated lo Ihe character and condition of the Moriscoes, bul by Ihe pari 
which he had personally taken in Ihe war of Ihe insurrection. He 
held the oHice of commissary in the royal army, and served in that 
capacity from the commencement of the war to its close. In Ihe 
warm coloring of Ihe narrative, and in the minuteness of its details. 
wo feel that we are reading the report of one who has himself beheld 
the scenes which he descnbes. Indeed, the interest which, as an 
actor, he naturally takes in Ihe operations of the war. leads 10 ad 
amount of detail which may well be condemned as a blemish by those 
who do nol feel a similar interest in Ihe particulars of the struggle. 
But if his style have somewhat of the rambling, discursive manner of 
the old Castilian chronicler, it has a certain elegance in the execution, 
which brings it much nearer to Ihe standard of a classic author. Fat 
from being chargeable wilh the obscurity of Mendoia, Marmol ll 



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CISCOURT. aji 

micomnionly penpicuous. Wilh a genend facility of expression, hit 
language takes ihe varied chaiacler suited to the theme, sometime* 
kindled into eloquence and occa^onally softened into pathos, for 
which the melancholy character of his story aiforded too many occa- 
■ions. Though loyal to his country and his faith, yet he shows but 
few gleams of the fiecy intolerance that belonged to his nation, and 
especially lo thai portion of it vhich came into collision with the 
Moslems. Indeed, in more than one passage of his work we may 
disceiD gleams of that Christian charity which hi Castile was the 
rarest, as it was, unhappily, the least precious of virtues, in the age 
in which he lived. 

In the extensive plan adopted by Marmol. his history of the rebel- 
lion embraces a preliminary notice of the conquest of Granada, and 
of that cruel policy of the conquerors which led lo the insurrectiou. 
The narrative, thus complete, supplied a most important hiatus in (he 
annab of the country. Yet notwithstanding its importance in this 

the indifference of the Spaniards to Iheir national history that it was 
not till the close of the last century, in 1797. thai a second edition of 
Marmol's work was permilled to appear. This was in two volumes, 
octavo, torn Ihe press of Sancha. at Madrid,— the edition used in the 
preparation of these pages. 

The most comprehensive and by far the most able history of the 
Moots of Spain wilh which I am acquainted is that of the Count 
Albert de Grcourt, — "Histein da Araiu lit EifagTu." Beginning 

of the Peninsula hy the Moslems. He paints in glowing colors the 
magnificent empire of the Spanish caliphs. He dwellswith sufficient 
minuteness on those interminable feuds which, growing out of a 
diversity of races and tribes, baffled every attempt at a permanent 
consolidation under one government. Then comes the famous war 
of Granada, with (he conquest of the country by the "Catholic 
Kings;" and the work closes with the sad tale of the subsequent for- 
tunes of the conquered races until their final expulsion from the Pen- 
insula. Thus the rapidly shifting scenes of this most picturesque 
drama, sketched by a master's hand^ are brought in regular succession 
before the eye of Ihe reader. 

In conducting bis long stoiy, Ihe author, to from contining himself 
10 a dry record of events, diligently explores the causes of these 
care every inch of debatable ground 



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t;! CIRCOURT. 

which lies in his palh. He enriches his narrallve wilh cocriods dik- 
quaitions on the condilion of the arts, and ihe progress made by (he 
Spanish Arabs in science and letters, thus presenling a complele view 
of that peculiar civilisation which so curiously blended logelher the 
characteristic elements of EuropieBn and Oriental culture. 

If. in pursuing his speculations. M. de Circourt may be sometimes 
thought to refine too much, it cannot be denied that they are distin- 
guished by candor and by a philosophical spirit. Even when we may 
differ from his conclusions, we must allow that they are the result of 
carefiil study and display an independent way of thinking. I may re- 
gret that in one important instance — the policy of the government of 
Ferdinand and Isabella — be should have been led to dissent from 
the opinions which I had expressed in my history of those sovereigns. 
It is possible that the predilection which the writer, whether historian 
or novelist, naturally feels for his hero when his conduct affords any 
groimd bx it, may have sometimes seduced me from Ihe strict line of 
Impartiality In my estimate of character and motives of action. I 
tee. however, no reason to change the conclusionB at which I had 
«jri»ed after a careful study of the subject. Yet I cannot deny that 
the labors of the French historian have shed a light upon more than 
one obscure passage in the administration of Ferdinand and Isabella, 
for which the itudeni of Spanish histor]' owes him a debt of gratitude. 



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CHAPTER IX 

WAR WITH THE TURKS. ' 

Ltagae sgaiut the "nirki. — Pr^iarationx for the War. — Don JahB 
Commander-iii-Chief. — His Reception at Napla.— Hii DepBTtnrs 
from Metsino. 

While Philip «as occupied with the Morisco insur- 
rection, his attention was called to another quarter, 
where a storm was gathering that menaced Spain in 
common with the rest of Christendom. In 1566, 
Solyman the Magnificent closed his long and prosper- 
ous reign. His son and successor, Selim the Second, 
possessed few of the qualities of his great father. Bred 
in the seraglio, he showed the fruits of his education in 
his indolent way of life and in the free indulgence of 
the most licentious appetites. With these effeminate 
tastes, he inherited tlie passion for conquest which be- 
longed not only to his father, but to the whole of his 
warlike dynasty. Not that, like them, he headed his 
armies in the field. These were led by valiant com- 
manders, who had learned the art of war under Soly- 
man. Selim was, above all, fortunate in possessing for 
his grand vizier a minister whose untiring industry and 
remarkable talents for business enabled him to bear on 
his own shoulders the whole burden of government. 
It was fortunate for the state, as well as for the sultan, 
that Mahomet had the art to win the confidence of his 
"• (273) 



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»74 



HTA/l Wirif THE TURKS. 



taaster and to maintain it unshaken through the whole 
of his reign. 

The scheme which most occupied the thoughts of 
Selim was the conquest of Cyprus. This island, to 
which Nature had been so prodigal of her gifts, be- 
longed to Venice, Yet, placed at the extremity of the 
Mediterranean, it seemed in a manner to command the 
approaches to the Dardanelles, while its line of coast 
furnished convenient ports, from which swarms of 
cruisers might sally forth in time of war and plunder 
the Turkish commerce. 

Selim, resolved on the acquisition of Cyprus, was not 
slow in devising a pretext for claiming it from Venice 
asapart of the Ottoman empire. The republic, though 
willing to make almost any concession rather than come 
to a rupture with the colossal power under whose 
shadow she lay, was not prepared to surrender without 
a struggle the richest gem in her colonial diadem. War 
was accordingly declared against her by the Forte, and 
vast preparations were made for fitting out an armament 
against Cyprus. Venice, in her turn, showed her usual 
alacrity in providing for the encounter. She strained 
her resources to the utmost. In a very short time 
she equipped a powerful fleet, and took measures to 
place the fortifications of Cyprus in a proper state 
of defence. But Venice no longer boasted a navy 
such as in earlier days had enabled her to humble 
the pride of Genoa and to ride the unquestioned 
mistress of the Mediterranean, The defences of her 
colonies, moreover, during her long repose, had grad- 
ually fallen into decay. In her extremity, she turned 
to the Christian powers of Europe, and besought them 



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LEAGUE AGAINST THE TURA'S. 



21S 



to make common cause with her against the enemy of 

Christendom. 

Fortunately, the chair of St. Peter was occupied, at 
this crisis, by Pius the Fifth, one of those pontiffs who 
seem to have been called forth by the exigencies of the 
time, to uphold the pillars of Catholicism as they were 
yet trembling under the assaults of Luther. Though 
he was near seventy years of age, the fire of youth still 
glowed in his veins. He possessed all that impetuous 
eloquence which, had he lived in the days of Peter the 
Hermit, would have enabled him, like that enthusiast, 
to rouse the nations of Europe to a crusade against thn 
infidel. But the days of the crusades were past ; and 
a summons from the Vatican had no longer the powt;r 
to stir the souls of men like a voice from heaven. The 
great potentates of Europe were too intent on their 
own selfish schemes to be turned from these by the 
apprehension of a danger so remote as that which 
menaced them from the East. The forlorn condition 
of Venice had still less power to move them ; and that 
haughty republic was now made to feel, in the hour of 
her distress, how completely her perfidious and unscru- 
pulous policy had estranged from her the sympathies of 
her neighbors. 

There was one monarch, however, who did not close 
his ears against the appeal of Venice, — and that mon- 
arch one of more importance to her cause than any 
other, perhaps all others united. In the spring of 
1570, Luigi Torres, clerk of the apostolic chamber, 
was sent to Spain by Pius the Fifth to plead the cause 
of the republic. He found the king at Ecija, on the 
route from C6rdova, where he had been for some time 



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t7A IV'IX WITH THE TURKS. 

presiding over a meeting of the cortes. The legate was 
graciously received by Philip, to whom he presented a 
letter from his holiness, urging the monarch, in the 
most earnest and eloquent language, to give succor to 
Venice and to unite with her in a league against the 
infide). Philip did not hesitate to promise His assist- 
ance in the present emergency ; but he had natur^ 
doubts as to the expediency of binding himself by a 
league with a power on whose good faith he had little 
leliance. He postponed his decision until his arrival 
at Seville. Accompanied by the legate, on the first of 
May he made his solemn entry into the great commer- 
cial capital of the South. -It was his first visit there, 
and he was received with tumultuous joy by the loyal 
inhabitants. Loyalty to their monarchs has ever been 
a predominant trait of the Spaniards ; and to none of 
their princes did they ever show it in larger measure 
than to Philip the Second. No one of them, certainly, 
was more thoroughly Spanish in his own nature, or more 
deeply attached to Spain. 

After swearing to respect the privileges of the city, 
the king received the homage of the authorities. He 
then rode through the streets under a gorgeous canopy 
upheld by the principal magistrates, and visited the 
churches and monasteries, hearing Te Deum, and offer- 
ing up his prayers in the cathedral. He was attended 
by a gay procession of nobles and cavaliers, while the 
streets of the populous city were thronged with multi> 
tudes, filled with enthusiasm at the presence of their 
sovereign. By this loyal escort Philip was accompanied 
to the place of his residence, the royal alcazar of Seville. 
Here he prolonged his stay for a fortnight, witnessing 



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LEAGUE AGAINST THE TURKS. 377 

the shows and festivals which had been prepared for his 
entertaiomeiit. At his departure he received a more 
substantial proof of the attachment of the citizens, in a 
donation of six hundred thousand ducats. The object 
of this magnificent present was to defray in part the 
expenses of the king's approaching marriage with hir 
. fourth wife, Anne of Austria-, the daughter of his cousin, 
the Emperor Maximilian. The fair young bride had 
left her father's court, and was already on her way to 
Madrid, where her nuptials were to be celebrated, and 
where she was to take the place of the lovely Isabella, 
whose death, not two years since, had plunged the 
nation into mourning.* 

While at Seville, Philip laid the subject of the league 
before his ministers. Some of these, and among the 
number Espinosa, president of the council of Castile, 
entertained great doubts as to the policy of binding 
Spain by a formal treaty with the Venetian republic. 
But, with all his distrust of that power, Philip took a 
broader view of the matter than his ministers. Inde- 
pendently of his willingness to present himself before 
the world as the great champion of the Faith, he felt 
that such an alliance offered the best opportunity for 
crippling the maritime power of Turkey and thus 
providing for the safety of his own colonial possession) 

■ Peireraj, Hist d'E^pagne, lom. x. pp. 339, 340. — Cabrera, Fili|>« 
begundo, p. 641. — Zufiiga. Anales de Sevilla, pp. 536-^38. — Thn 
chroniclers pajnl in glowing colon the splendora of the royal lecep- 
Hon at SOYille, which, enriched by the [ndian trade, took in place 
•moDg the great commercial ca^iitals of Cbmtendom ia the sixteealta 
Ceiitui7. ll was a common saying, — 

'■ Qiaen i» ha vitlo i SevllU 
NohiviilaimanvilU." 

Philip.-VOL. in. 34 



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178 **''*■* WITH THE TURKS. 

in the Mediterranean. After much deliberation, he 
dismissed the legate with the assurance that, notwith- 
standing the troubles which pressed on him both m 
the Low Countries and in Granada, he would furnish 
immediate succors to Venice, and would send commis- 
sioners to Rome, with full powers to unite with those 
of the pope and the republic in forming a treaty of 
alliance against the Ottoman Porte. The papal envoy 
was charged with a letter to the same effect, addressed 
by Philip to his holiness. 

The ensuing summer, the royal admiral, the famous 
John Andrew Doria, who was lying with a strong 
squadron off Sicily, put to sea, by the king's orders. 
He was soon after reinforced by a few galleys which 
were furnished by his holiness and placed under the 
command of Mark Antonio Colonna, the representative 
of one of the most ancient and illustrious houses in 
Rome. On the last of August, 157a, the combined 
fleet effected its junction with the Venetians at Candia, 
and a plan of operations was immediately arranged. 
It was not long before the startling intelligence ar- 
rived that Nicosia, the capital of Cyprus, had been 
taken and sacked by the Turks, with all the circum- 
stances of cruelty which distinguish wars in which 
the feeling of national hostility is embittered by re- 
ligious hatred. The plan was now to be changed. 
A dispute arose among the commanders as to the 
course to be pursued. No one had authority enough 
to enforce compliance with his own opinion. The 
dispute ended in a rupture. The expedition was aban- 
doned ; and the several commanders returned home 
with their squadrons, without having struck a blow for 



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LEAGUE AGAINST THE TURKS. 



a79 



the cause. It was a bad omen for the success of the 
league-* 

Still, the stout-hearted pontiff was not discouraged. 
On the contrary, he endeavored to infuse his own heroic 
spirit into the hearts of his allies, giving them the most 
cheering assurances for the future if they would but be 
rue to themselves. Philip did not need this encourage- 
ment. Once resolved, his was not a mind lightly to be 
turned from its purpose, Venice, on the other hand, 
soon showed that the Catholic king had good reason 
for distrusting her fidelity. Appalled by the loss of 
Nicosia, with her usual inconstancy, she despatched a 
secret agent to Constantinople to see if some terms 
might not yet be made with the sultan. The negotia- 
tion could not be managed so secretly, however, but 
that notice of it reached the ears of Pius the Fifth. 
He forthwith despatched an envoy to the republic to 
counteract this measure and to persuade the Venetians 
to trust to their Christian allies rather than to the Turks, 
the enemies of their country and their religion. The 
person selected for this mission was Colonna, who was 
quite as much distinguished for his address as for his 
valor. He performed his task well. He represented 
so forcibly to the government that the course he recom- 
mended was the one dictated not less by interest than 
by honor, that they finally acquiesced, and recalled 
their agent from Constantinople. It must be acknowl- 
edged that Colonna's arguments were greatly strength- 
ened by the cold reception given to the Venetian 
envoy at Constantinople, where it was soon seen that 



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tSo ff'tX tV/TH THE TURKS. 

the conquest of the capital had by no means tended to 
make the sultan relax his hold on Cyprus.' 

Towards the close of 1570, the deputies from the 
three powers met in Rome to arrange the terms of 
the league. Spain was represented by the Cardinals 
Granvelle and Pacheco, together with the ambas- 
sador, Juan de Zuliiga, all three at that time being 
resident in Rome. It will readily be believed that 
the interests of Spain would not sutTer in the hands 
of a commission with so skilful a tactician as Gran- 
velle to direct it. 

Yet, though the parties seemed to be embarked in 
a common cause, there was found much difficulty in 
reconciling their different pretensions. The deputies 
from Venice, in the usual spirit of her diplomacy, 
regarded the league as exclusively designed foi her 
benefit, — in other words, for the protection of Cyprus 
against the Turks. The Spanish commissioners took a 
wider view, and talked of the war as one waged by the 
Christian against the Infidel, — against the Moors no 
less than the Turks. In this politic view of the matter, 
the Catholic king was entitled to the same protection 
for his colonies on- the coast of Africa as Venice 
claimed for Cyprus. 

Another cause of disagreement was the claim of each 
of the parties to select a commander-in-chief for the 
expedition from its own nation. This pre-eminence 
was finally conceded to Spain, as the power that was 
to bear the largest share of the expenses. 

It was agreed that the treaty should be permanent in 



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LEAGUE AGAINST THE TURKS. ,8, 

Its duration, and should be directed against the Moors 
of Tunis, Tripoli, and Algiers, as well as against the 
Turks ; that the contracting parties should furnish two 
hundred galleys, one hundred transports and smaller 
vessels, fifty thousand foot, and four thousand five 
hundred horse, with the requisite artillery and muni- 
tions; that by Apiil, at farthest, of every succeeding 
year, a similar force should be held in readiness by the 
allies for expeditions to the Levant ; and that any year 
in which there was no expedition in common, and 
either Spain or the republic should desire to engage in 
one on her own account against the infidel, the other 
confederates should furnish fifly galleys towards it ; 
that if the enemy should invade the dominions of any 
of the three powers, the others should be bound to 
come to the aid of their ally; that three-sixths of the 
expenses of the war should be home by the Catholic 
King, two-sixths by the republic, the remaining sixth 
by the Holy See ; that the Venetians should lend his 
holiness twelve galleys, which he was to man and equip 
ftt his own charge, as his contribution towards the 
armament ; that each power should appoint a captain- 
general; that the united voices of the three com- 
manders should regulate the plan of operations ; that 
the execution of this plan should be intrusted to the 
captain-general of the league, and that this high office 
should be given to Don John of Austria; that, finally, 
no one of the parties should make peace, or enter into 
a truce with the enemy, without the knowledge and 
consent of the others.* 



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t83 W^X WITH THE TURKS. 

Such were the principal provisions of the famous 
treaty of the Holy League. The very firnt article 
declares this treaty perpetual in its nature. Yet we 
should be slow to believe that the shrewd and politic 
statesmen who directed the affairs of Spain and the 
republic could for a moment believe in the perpetuity 
of a contract which imp>osed such burdensome obliga* 
tions on the parties. In fact, the league did not hold 
together two years. But it held together long enough 
to accomplish a great result, and as such occupies an 
important place in the history of the times. 

Although a draft of the treaty had been prepared in 
the latter part of the preceding year, it was not ratified 
till 1571.' On the twenty-fourth of May the pope 
caused it to be read aloud in full consistory. He 
then, laying his hand on his breast, solemnly swore to 
the observance of it. The ambassadors of Spain and 
Venice made oath to the same effect, on behalf of their 
governments, placing their hands on a missal with a 
copy of the Gospels beneath it. On the day following, 
after mass had been performed, the treaty was publicly 
proclaimed in the church of St. Peter.* 

The tidings of the alliance of the three powers 
caused a great sensation throughout Christendom. Far 
from dismaying the sultan, however, it only stimulated 
him to greater exertions. Availing himself of the re* 
sources of his vast empire, he soon got together a 
IraiislerTed it (o the appendix of his work. Historia del Combwe 
naval de Lepanlo (Madrid, 1853), pp. 180-189. 

1 A copy from the first draft of the treaty, as prepared in 1570, ts 
incorporated in the Documentos in^ditos (torn, iii, p. 337, el leq.). 
The orlgiital is in the library of the duke of Ossuna 

* Rosell. Combate naval de Lepanlo, p. £6. 



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PREPARATIONS FOR THE WAR. 183 

powerful fleet, partly drawn from his own dominions, 
and in part from those of the Moslem powers on the 
Mediterranean, who acknowledged allegiance to the 
Porte. The armada was placed under the command of 
Selim's brother-in-law, the Pacha Piali, a man of an in- 
trepid spirit, who had given many proofs of a humane 
and generous nature, — qualities more rare among the 
Turks, perhaps among all nations, than mere physical 



Early in the spring of 1571 the Ottoman admiral 
sailed out of the Golden Horn and directed his course 
towards Candia. Here he remained until joined by a 
strong Algerine force under the redoubtable corsair, 
Uluch Ali, — a Calabrian renegade, who had risen 
from the humblest condition to the post of dey of 
Algiers. E^ly in the season the combined fleets 
sailed for the Adriatic; and Piali, after landing and 
laying waste the territory belonging to the republic, 
detached Uluch with his squadron to penetrate higher 
up the gulf. The Algerine, in executing these orders, 
advanced so near to Venice as to throw the inhabitants 
of that capital into a consternation such as they had 
not felt since the cannon of the Genoese, two centuries 
before, had resounded over their waters. But it was 
not the dey's purpose to engage in so formidable an 
enterprise as an assault upon Venice; and, soon draw- 
ing off, he joined the commander-in-chief at Corfu, 
where they waited for tidings of the Christian fleet.' 

The indefatigable Pius, even before the treaty was 
tigned, had despatched his nephew. Cardinal Alessan- 

f Punta. Guerra di Cipro, p, lao, et seq.— Herrera, Hisl. general, 
torn. ii. K>. 14. 15. 



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S84 "''*' tVITH THE TURKS. 

drino, to the different courts, to rouse the drooping 
Ipirit3 of the allies and to persuade other princes of 
Christendom to- join the league. In the middle of 
May, the legate, attended by a stately train of ecclesi- 
astics, appeared at Madrid. Philip gave him a recep- 
tion that fully testified his devotion to the Holy See. 
The king's brother, Don John, and his favorite minis- 
ter, Ruy Gomez dc Silva, with some of the princip^ 
nobles, waited at once on the cardinal, who had taken 
ap his quarters in the suburbs, at the Dominican mon- 
astery of Atocha, tenanted by brethren of his own 
order. On the following morning the papal envoy 
made his entrance in great state into the capital. He 
was mounted on a male, gorgeously caparisoned, the 
gift of the city. John of Austria rode on his right ; 
and he was escorted by a pompous array of prelates 
and grandees, who seemed to vie with one another in 
the splendor of their costumes. On the way he was 
met by the royal cavalcade. As the legate paid his 
obeisance to the monarch, he remained with his head 
uncovered ; and Philip, with a similar act of courtesy, 
while he addressed a few remarks to the churchman, 
held his hat in his hand.* He then joined the pro- 
cession, riding between the legate on the right and his 
brother on the left, who was observed from time to 
time to take part in the conversation, a circumstance 
occasioning some surprise, says an historian, as alto- 
gether contrary to the established etiquette of the 
punctilious Castilian court.* 

• Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. ii. csip. aa. — Ferrera*. Hot. d'H*- 
pagne. lorn. x. pp. 347, 048. — Vanderbammen, Don Juan de Amtria, 



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PREPARATIONS FOR THE WAR. jSj 

The ceremonies were concluded by religious services 
In the cimrch of Santa Maria, where the legate, afler 
preaching a discourse, granted all present a full remis- 
sion of the pains of Purgatory for two hundred years." 
A gift of more worth, in a temporal view, was the grant 
to the king of the crutada, the exeusada, and other 
concessions of ecclesiastical revenue, which the Roman 
see knows so well how to bestow on the champions of 
the Faith. These concessions came in good time to 
wpply the royal coffers, sorely drained by the costly 
preparations for the war. 

Meanwhile, the Venetians were pushing forward their 
own preparations with their wonted alacrity, — indeed, 
with more alacrity than thoroughness. They were 
prompt in fiimishing their quota of vessels, but dis- 
creditably remiss in their manner of equipping them. 
The fleet was placed under the charge of Sebastian 
Vcniero, a noble who had grown gray in the service of 
his country. Zanne, who had had the command of the 
fleet in the preceding summer, was superseded on the 
charge of incapacity, shown especially in his neglect to 
bring the enemy to action. His process continued for 
two years, without any opportunity being allowed to 
the accused of appearing in his own vindication. It 
was finally brought to a close by his death, — the con- 
sequence, as it is said, of a broken heart. If it were 
so, it would not be a solitary instance of such a fate in 

b bien de Inienlo. (erciar llanamenle en la convenackm, contra lu 
etiqueai huls enioncea oburvadas." Resell, Combate naval de 
Lepanio, p. 59. 

•• " Y concede dooentoi sfloi de perdoo a loa pmentes." — VaB- 
g, Don Juan de AuMria, fol. 15a. 



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fS6 fKIJt WITH THE TURKS 

the annals of the stem republic. Before midsummer 
the new admiral sailed with his fleet, or as much of it 
as was then ready, for the port of Messina, appointed 
as the place of rendezvous for the allies. Here he was 
soon joined by Colonna, the papal commander, with 
the little squadron furnished by his holiness; and the 
two fleets lay at anchor, side by side, in the capaciuua 
harbor, waiting the arrival of the rest of the confeder* 
ates and ,of John of Austria. 

Preparations for the war were now going actively 
forward in Spain. Preparations on so large a scale had 
not been seen since the war with Paul the Fourth and 
Henry the Third, which ushered in Philip's accession. 
All the great ports in the Peninsula, as well as in the 
kingdom of Naples, in Sicily, in the Balearic Isles, — 
in every part of the empire, in short, — swarmed with 
artisans, busily engaged in fitting out the fleet which 
was to form Philip's contingent to the armament. By 
the terms of the treaty he was to bear one-half of the 
charges of the expedition. In his naval preparations 
he spared neither cost nor care. Ninety royal galleys, 
and more than seventy ships of smaller dimensions, 
were got in readiness in the course of the summer. 
They were built and equipped in that thorough manner 
which vindicated the pre-eminence in naval architecture 
claimed by Spain, and formed a strong contrast to the 
slovenly execution of the Venetians." 

'^" Dilit mrjorts fuij'amat st han vislo," — " among the best gal- 
leys that were ever seen."— says Don Juan, in a leuer from Mesuna 
lo Don Garcia de Toledo. Documentos in^dilos. torn. iii. p. 15. — The 
earlier part of ilie third voiume of the Documentos inidilos is taken 
iq> with the correspondence between John of Austria and Garcia de 
Toledo, in which the former asks infonnatiou and adrice in r^Bct 



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fREPARATIONS FOX THE WAK. 287 

Levies of troops were at the same time diligently 
enforced in all parts of the monarchy. Even a corps 
of three thousand Gennan mercenaries was subsidized 
for the campaign. Troops were drawn from the veteran 
garrisons in Lonibardy uid the kingdom of Naples. As 
the Morisco insurrection was fortunately quelled, the 
forces engaged in it, among whom were the brave Nea- 
politan battalion and its commander, Fadilla, could 
now be employed in the war against the Turk. 

But it can hardly be said to have required extraordi- 
nary efforts to fill the ranks on the present occasion ; 
for seldom had a war been so popular with the nation. 
Indeed, the Spaniards entered into it with an alacrity 
which might wel! have suggested the idea that their 
master had engaged in it on his own account rather than 
as an ally. It was in truth a war that appealed in a 
peculiar manner to the sensibilities of the Caftilian, 
familiar from his cradle with the sound of the battle- 
cry against the infidel. The whole number of infantry 
raised by the confederates amounted to twenty-nine 
to (he best mode of conductiag ihe war. Don Gatcia de Toledo. 
louith marquis of ViUafranca, was a- man of high family and of great 
aagacily and experience. He had filled some of the highest posts in 
the govemmenl. and, as Ihe reader may rememlier, was viceroy ot 
Sidljr at the time when Malta was besieged by the Turks. The 
coldness which on that occasion he appeared to show to Ihe be^eged 
■iclted general indignation ; and I ventured 10 slate, on an authority 
which I did not profess to esteem the best, thai in consequence of 
this he Jell into disgrace, and was suffered to pass the rentainder of 
his years In obscurity. (Anti, vol. ii. p. 448.) An investigation of 
documents which I had not then seen shows this lo have been an 
cnot. The ample correspondence which both Philip the Second and 
Don John carried on wilh him gives undeniable proofs of the con&- 
dence he continued to enjoy at court, and the high deference «hki) 
WM p^d to his opinion. 



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S88 ^KiJf WITH THE TURKS. 

thousand. Of this number Spain alone sent over nine- 
teen thousand well-appointed troops, comprehending 
Dumerous volunteers, many of whom belonged to the 
noblest houses of the Peninsula," 

On the sixth of June, Don John, after receiving the 
last instructions of his brother, set out from Madrid 
on his journey to the south. Besides his own private 
establishment, making a numerous train, he was escorted 
by a splendid company of lords and cavaliers, eager to 
share with him in the triumphs of the Cross. Anxious 
to reach the goal, he pushed forward at a more rapid 
rate than was altogether relished by the rest of the 
cavalcade. Vet, notwithstanding this speed on the 
road, there were matters that claimed his attention in 
the towns through which he passed, that occasioned 
some delay. His journey had the appearance of a 
royal progress. The castles of the great lords were 
thrown open with princely hospitality to receive him 
and his suite. In the chief cities, as Saragossa and 
Barcelona, he was entertained by the viceroys with all 
the pomp and ceremony that could have been shown to 
the king himself. He remained some days in the busy 
capital of Catalonia, and found there much to engage 
his attention in the arsenals and dock-yards, now alive 
with the bustle of preparation. He then made a brief 
pilgrimage to the neighboring Hermitage of Our Lady 
of Montserrat, where he paid his devotions, and con- ■ 
versed with the holy lathers, whom he had always 
deeply reverenced, and had before visited in their 
romantic solitudes. 

■>Aulhori1ies differ, ai usual, si to the precise number both crf 
*e»els and troops. I have accepted the estimate o[ Resell, who 
discreetly avoids the eitiemes on either side. 



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RECEPTION AT NAPLES. 389 

Embarking at Barcelona, he set sail with a squadron 
of more than thirty galleys, — a force strong enough to 
guard against the Moslem corsairs in the Mediterranean, 
and landed, on the twenty-fifth, at Genoa. The doge 
and the senate came out to welcome him, and he was 
lodged during his stay in the palace of Andrew Doria. 
Here he received embassies and congratulatory addresses 
from the diiferent princes of Italy. He had already 
been greeted with an autograph letter, couched in the 
most benignant terms, from the sovereign pontilT. To 
all these communications Don John was careful to reply. 
He acquainted his holiness, in particular, with the 
whole course of his proceedings. While on the way he 
had received a letter from his brother, giving him a full 
catalogue of the appropriate titles by which each one 
of his correspondents should be addressed. Nor was 
this list confined to crowned heads, but comprehended 
nobles and cavaliers of every degree.** In no country 
has the perilous code of etiquette been more diligently 
studied than in Spain; and no Spaniard was better 
versed in it than Philip. 

Pursuing his route by water, Don John, in the month 
of August, dropped anchor in the beautiful bay of 
Naples. Arrangements had been made in that city for 
his reception on a more magnificent scale than any he 
had witnessed on his journey. Granvelle, who had 
lately been raised to the post of viceroy, came forth, 
at the head of a long and brilliant procession, to wel- 
come his royal guest. The houses that lined the streets 
were hung with richly-tinted tapestries and gayly fes- 
■3 VuidertianiTnen has b«en careful to tranicribe this predoui cala- 
logue. Don Juan de Auslria, fbl. 156, et aeq. 
Philip.— Vol. III.— n 35 



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tqo HTAX WITH THE TURKS. 

tooned with flowers. The windows and verandas were 
graced with the beauty and fashion of that pleasure- 
loving capital; and many a dark eye sparkled as it 
gazed on the fine fofm and features of the youthful 
hero who at the age of twenty-four had come to Italy 
to assume the baton of command and lead the crusade 
against the Moslems. His splendid dress of white 
velvet and cloth of gold set off his graceful person to 
advantage. A crimson scarf floated loosely over his 
breast ; and his snow-white plumes, drooping from his 
cap, mingled with the yellow curb that fell in profusion 
over his shoulders. It was a picture which the Italian 
maiden might love to took on. It was certainly not 
the picture of the warrior sheathed in the iron panoply 
of war. But the young prince, in his general aspect, 
might be relieved from the charge of effeminacy by 
his truly chivalrous bearing and the dauntless spirit 
which beamed from his clear blue eye. In his own 
lineaments he seemed to combine all that was most 
comely in the lineaments of his race. Fortunately, he 
had escaped the deformity of the heavy Burgundian 
lip, which he might perhaps have excused, as establish- 
ing his claims to a descent from the imperial house of 
Hapsburg," 

Don John had found no place more busy with pre- 
parations for the campaign than Naples. A fleet waa 
riding at anchor in her bay, ready to sail under the 
command of Don Alvaro Bazan, first marquis of Santa 
Cruz, a nobleman who had distinguished himself by 

■* Vanderhammeii, Don Jiuid de Austria, fbl. 159, el *eq. — Fei- 
reras, Hisl. d'Espagne, loin. i. p. aji. — Herrera. Hbt. general, torn, 
li. p. 15, etieq. 



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RECEPTION AT NAPLES. 2QI 

more than one gallant achievement in the Mediter- 
ranean, and who was rapidly laying the foundations of 
a fame that was one day to eclipse that of every othei 
admiral in Castile. 

Ten days Don John remained at Naples, detained by 
contrary winds. Though impatient to reach Messina, 
his time passed lightly amidst the files and brilliant 
spectacles which his friendly hosts had provided for his 
entertainment. He entered gayly into the revels ; for 
he was well skilled in the courtly and chivalrous exer- 
cises of the day. Few danced better than he, or rode, 
or fenced, or played at tennis with more spirit and 
skill, or carried off more frequently the prizes of the 
tourney. Indeed, he showed as much ambition to excel 
in the mimic game of war as on the field of battle. 
With his accomplishments and persona! attractions, we 
may well believe that Don John had little reason to 
complain of coldness in the fair dames of Italy. But 
he seems to have been no less a favorite with the men. 
The young cavaliers, in particular, regarded him as 
the very mirror of chivalry, and studiously formed 
themselves on him as their model. His hair clustered 
thickly round his temples, and he n'as in the habit of 
throwing it back, so as to display his line forehead to 
advantage. This suited his physiognomy. It soon 
became the mode with the gallants of the court ; and 
even those whose physiognomies it did not suit were no 
less careful to arrange their hair in the same manner. 

While at Naples he took part in a ceremony of an 
interestiog and significant character. It was on the 
occasion of the presentation of a standard sent by Pius 
the Fifth for the Holy War. The ceremony took plac« 



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»9' 



mix WITH THE TURKS. 



in the church of the Franciscan convent of Santa 
Chiara. Granvelle officiated on the occasion. Mass 
was performed by the cardinal- viceroy in his jwntifi- 
cals. Te Deum was then chanted, after which Don 
John, approaching the altar with a slow and dignified 
step, gracefully knelt before the prelate, who, first de- 
livering to him the baton of generalissimo, in the name 
of his holiness, next placed in his hands the consecrated 
Standard. It was of azure damask. A crucifix was 
embroidered on the upper part of the banner, while 
below were the arms of the Church, with those of Spain 
on the right and of Venice on the left, united by a 
chain, from which were suspended the arms of John 
of Austria. The prelate concluded the ceremony by 
invoking the blessing of Heaven on its champion and 
beseeching that he might be permitted to carry the 
banner of the Cross victorious over its enemies. The 
choir of the convent then burst forth into a triumphant 
pcaV and the people from every quarter of the vast 
edifice shouted ' ' Amen ! " '» 

It was a striking scene, pregnant with matter for 
meditation to those who gazed on it. For what could 
be more striking than the contrast afforded by these 
two individuals, — the one in the morning of life, his 
eye kindling with hope and generous ambition, as he 
looked into the future and prepared to tread the path 
of glory under auspices as brilliant as ever attended 
any mortal ; the other drawing near to the evening of 
his day, looking to the past rather than the future, with 
pale and thoughtful brow, as of one who, after many a 



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ARRIVAL AT MESSINA. 



»93 



toilsome day and sleepless night, had achieved the 
proud eminence for which his companion was panting, 
—and had found it barren t 

The wind having become more favorable, Don John 
took leave of the gay capital of the South, and em- 
barked for Messina, which he reached on the twenty- 
fifth of August. If in other places he had seen prepa- 
rations for war, here he seemed to be brought on the 
very theatre of war. As he entered the noble port, he 
was saluted with the thunders of hundreds of pieces of 
ordnance from the combined fleets of Rome and Venice, 
which lay side by side awaiting his arrival. He landed 
beneath a triumphal arch of colossal dimensions, em- 
bossed with rich plates of silver and curiously sculp- 
tured with emblematical bas-reliefs and with compli- 
mentary legends in Latin verse, furnished by the classic 
poets of Italy." He passed under two other arches of 
similar rich and elaborate construction, as he rode into 
the city amidst the ringing of bells, the cheers of the 
multitude, the waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs from 
the balconies, and other lively demonstrations of the 
public joy, such as might have intoxicated the brain of 
a less ambitious soldier than John of Austria. The 
festivities were closed in the evening by a general illu- 
mination of the city, and by a display of fireworks 
that threw a light far and wide over the beautiful harbor 
and the countless ships that floated on its waters. 

Nothing could be finer, indeed, whether by day or 
by night, than the spectacle presented by the port of 
Messina. Every day a fresh reinforcement of squadrons, 

* For ii minute account of these arches and fheir manifold inscrip- 
tioat, *ee Vuidcrtiaounea. E>on Juan da Austria, IbL i6o-i6a. 



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ag4 "'-^^ fVITff THE TURKS. 

or of single galleys or brigantines, under some brave 
adventurer, entered the harbor to swell the numbers of 
the great armada. Many of these vessels, especially 
the galleys, were richly carved and gilt, after the fashion 
of the time, and with their many-colored streamers, and 
their flags displaying the arms of their several states, 
made a. magnificent show as they glanced over the 
waters. None, in the splendor of their decorations, 
exceeded l)\e^lieal, as the galley of the commander-in- 
chief was termed. It was of great size, and had been 
Duilt in Barcelona, famous for its naval architecture all 
the world over. The stem of the vessel was profusely 
decorated with emblems and devices drawn from his- 
tory. The interior was furnished in a style of luxury 
that seemed to be designed for pleasure rather than for 
the rough duties of war. But the galley was remarkable 
for both strength and speed, — the two most essential 
qualities in the construction of a ship. Of this she 
gave ample evidence in her contest with the Turk." 

The whole number of vessels in the armada, great 
and small, amounted to something more than three 
hundred. Of these full two-thirds were "royal gal- 
leys." Venice alone contributed one hundred and sis, 
besides six gaUazzas. These were ships of enormous 
bulk, and, as it would seem, of clumsy construction, 
carrying each more than forty pieces of artillery. The 
Spaniards counted a score of galleys less than their 
Venetian confederates. But they far exceeded them 
in the number of their frigates, brigantines, and vessels 
of smaller size. They boasted a still greater superiority 
in the equipment of their navy. Indeed, the Venetiaji 
■r Rosell, Cambale nitval de Lepanto, p. 84. 



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AHJIIVAL AT MESSINA. 295 

iquadron was found so indifferently manned thai Don 
John ordered several thousand hands to be drafted 
from the ships of the other Italian powers, and from 
the Spanish, to make up the necessary complement. 
This proceeding conveyed so direct a censure on the 
remissness of his countrymen as to give great disgust 
to the admiral, Veniero. But in the present emergency 
he had neither the power to resist nor to resent it," 

The number of persons on board of the fleet, soldiers 
and seamen, was estimated at eighty thousand. The 
galleys, impelled by oars more than by sails, required 
a large number of hands to navigate them. The 
soldiers, as we have seen, did not exceed twenty-nine 
thousand; of which number more than nineteen thou- 
sand were furnished by Spain. They were well-appointed 
troops, most of them familiar with war, and officered 
by men many of whom had already established a high 
reputation in the service. On surveying the muster- 
roll of cavaliers who embarked in this expedition, one 
may well believe that Spain had never before sent forth 
a fleet in which were to be found the names of so many 
of her sons illustrious for rank and military achievement. 
If the same can be said of Venice, we must consider that 
the present war was one in which the prosperity, per- 
haps the very existence, of the republic was involved. 
The Spaniard was animated by the true spirit of the 
Crusades, when, instead of mercenary motives, the 

* Don John, in his coTTBspondence with his firiend Don Garcia de 
Toledo, speaks with hieh di^ust of the negligence shown in equip- 
ping the Venetian galleys. In a letter dated Messina, At^usl 30th, 
he says, " P6neine ciena congoja ver que el mundo me obliga A 
hacer alguna cosa de momenio. conlando las galeras por nlimefv ) 
no por cnalidad." Docameatos Inidiloi. torn. Hi. p. i3. 



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i<,6 ffyj WITH THE TURKS. 

guerdon for which men fo>^ht was glory in this world 
and piiradise in the next. 

Sebastian Veniero, trembling for the possessions of 
the republic in the Adriatic, would have put to sea 
without further delay and sought out the enemy. But 
Don John, with a prudence hardly to have been ex- 
pected, declined moving until he had been strengthened 
by all his reinforcements. He knew the resources of 
the Ottoman empire ; he could not doubt that in the 
present emergency they would be strained to the utmost 
to equip a formidable armament ; and he resolved not 
to expose himself unnecessarily to the chances of defeat 
by neglecting any means in his power to prepare for the 
encounter. It was a discreet determination, which must 
have met the entire approbation of his brother. 

While he was thus detained at Messina, a papal nun- 
cio, Odescalco, bishop of Pena, arrived there. He was 
the bearer of sundry spiritual favOFs from the pontiff, 
whose real object, no doubt, was to quicken the move- 
ments of John of Austria. The nuncio proclaimed a 
jubilee ; and every man in the armada, from the captain- 
general downwards, having fasted three days, confessed 
and partook of the communion. The prelate, in the 
name of his holiness, then proclaimed a full remission 
of their sins ; and he conceded to them the same indul 
gences as had been granted to the deliverers of the 
Holy Sepulchre. To Don John the pope communicated 
certain revelations and two cheering prophecies from 
St. Isidore, which his holiness declared had undoubted 
reference to the prince. It is further stated that Pius 
appealed to more worldly feelings, by intimating to the 
young commander that success could not fail to open the 



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DEPARTURE FROM MESSINA. agj 

way to the acquisition of some independent sovereignty 
for himself. ■• Whether this suggestion first awakened 
so pleasing an idea in Don John's mind, or whether the 
wary pontiff was aware that it already existed there, it 
is certain that it became the spectre which from this 
time forward continued to haunt the. imagination of 
the aspiring chieftain, and to beckon him onward in 
the path of perilous ambition to its melancholy close. 

All being now in readiness, orders were given to 
weigh anchor ; and on the sixteenth of September the 
magnificent armament — unrivalled by any which had 
rode upon these waters since the days of imperial 
Rome — stood out to sea. The papal nuncio, dressed 
in his pontificals, took a prominent station on the 
mole; and as each vessel passed successively before 
him he bestowed on it his apostolic benediction. 
Then, without postponing a moment longer his return, 
he left Messina and hastened back to Rome to an- 
nounce the joyful tidings to his master." 

t Rosell, Combate naval de Lepanto, p. Bi..i-The clearest and by 
far the most elaborate account of the battle of Lepanto is to be found 
in the memoir of Don Cayetan Rosell, which received the priie oT 
the Royal Academy of Hisioiy of Madrid, in 1853. It is a narrativa 
which may be read with pride by Spaniards, tor the minute details It 
gives of the prowess shown by their heroic anceslors an that memo- 
rable day. The author enlera with spirit idlo the stormy scene he 
de*ciibes. If his ianguage may be thought sometimes to betray the 
warmth of national partiality, it cannot be denied that he has explored 
the best sources of information and endeavored to place the result 
tlirly before the reader, 

•° Torres y Aguilera, Chronica de Guerra que ha acontescido en 
Italia J partes de Levanle 7 Betbeiia desde 1570 en 1574 (^arago^a, 
1579)1 ''■I- 54- — Vanderhammen, Don Juan de Austiia. fbl. 165, et 
seq. — Cabreia, Filipe Sefimdo, lib. ix. cap. 33. 



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CHAPTER X. 

WAR WITH THS TURKS. 

PIm of Opendont. — 'Hdings gf the Enemy. — Pieparatioa foi 
Combait. — Battle of Lepanlo.— Rout of the Turkish Aimada. 

I57I' 

As the allied fleet coasted along the Calabrian shore, 
it was so much baflled by rough seas and contrary 
winds that its -progress was slow. Not long before his 
departure, Don John had sent a small squadron under 
a Spanish captain, Gil de Andrada, to collect tidings 
of the enemy. On his return, that commander met the 
Christian fleet, and reported that the Turks, with a 
powerful armament, were still in the Adriatic, where 
they had committed fearful ravages on the Venetian 
territories. Don John now steered his course for 
Corfu, which, however, he did not reach -till the 
twenty-sixth of September. He soon had ample oppor- 
tunities of seeing for himself the traces of the enemy, 
in the smoking hamlets and desolated fields along the 
coast. The allies were welcomed with joy by the 
islanders, who furnished them with whatever supplies 
they needed. Here Don John learned that the Otto- 
man fleet had been seen standing into the gulf of 
Lepanto, where it lay as if waiting the coming of the 
Christians. 

The young commander-in-chief had now no besitfr 
(898) 



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PLAN OF OPERATIONS. 



199 



tutn as to the course he ought to pursue. But he chose 
to call a council of his principal captains before de- 
ciding. The treaty of alliance, indeed, required him 
to consult with the other commanders before taking 
any decisive step in matters of importance ; and this 
had been strenuously urged on him by the king, ever 
aftaid of his brother's impetuosity. 

The opinions of the council were divided. Some 
who had had personal experience of the naval prowess 
of the Turks appeared to shrink from encountering so 
formidable an armament, and would have confined the 
operations of the fleet to the siege of some place be- 
longing to the Moslems. Even Doria, whose life had 
been spent in fighting with the infidel, thought it was 
not advisable to attack the enemy in his present posi- 
tion, surrounded by friendly shores, whence he might 
easily obtain succor. It would be better, he urged, to 
attack some neighboring place, tike Navarino, which 
might have the effect of drawing him from the gulf, 
and thus compel him to give battle in some quarter 
more advantageous to the allies. 

But the majority of the council took a very different 
view of the matter. To them it appeared that the 
great object of the expedition was to destroy the Otto- 
man fleet, and that a better opportunity could not be 
offered than the present one, while the enemy was 
shut up in the gulf, from which, if defeated, he would 
find no means of escape. Fortunately, this was the 
opinion not only of the majority, but of most of those 
whose opinions were entitled to the greatest deference; 
Among these were the gallant marquis of Santa Cruz^ 
the Grand Commander Requesens, who still remained 



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joo 



IVAS WITH THE TURKS. 



near the person of Don John and had command of a 
galley in his rear, Cardona, general of the Sicilian 
squadron, Barbarigo, the Venetian proweditore, next 
in authority to the captain-general of his nation, the 
Roman Colonna, and Alexander Famese, the yoking 
prince of Parma, Don John's nephew, who had come, 
on this memorable occasion, to take his first lesson in 
the art of war, — an art in which he was destined to 
remain without a rival. 

The commander-in-chief with no little satisfaction 
saw himself so well supported in his own judgment ; 
and he resolved, without any unnecessary delay, to 
give the Turks battle in the position they had chosen. 
He was desirous, however, to be joined by a part of 
his fleet, which, baffled by the winds, and without oars, 
still lagged far behind. For the galley, with its numer- 
ous oars in addition to its sails, had somewhat of the 
properties of a modem steamer, which so gallantly 
defies both wind and wave. As Don John wished also 
to review his fleet before coming to artion, he deter-_ 
mined to cross over to Comenizza, a capacious and 
well -protected port on the opposite coast of Albania. 

This he did on the thirtieth of September. Here 
the vessels were got in readiness for immediate action. 
They passed in review before the commander-in-chief, 
and went through their various evolutions; while the 
artillerymen aiid musketeers showed excellent practice. 
Don John looked with increased confidence to the 
Approaching combat. An event, however, occurred at 
this time which might have been attended with the 
worst consequences. 

A Roman officer named Tortona, one of those whi 



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FLAN OF OPEKATIONS. 301 

had been drafted to make up the complement of the 
Venetian galleys, engaged in a brawl with some of his 
crew. This reached the ears of Veniero, the Venetian 
captain -general. The old man, naturally of a choleric 
temper, and still smarting from the insult which he 
fancied he had received by the introduction of the 
allies on board of his vessels, instantly ordered the 
arrest of the offender. Tortona for a long while re- 
sisted the execution of these orders ; and when iinally 
seized, with some of his companions, they were all 
sentenced by the vindictive Veniero to be hung at the 
yard-arm. Such a high-handed proceeding caused the 
deepest indignation in Don John, who regarded it, 
moreover, as an insult to himself. In the first moments 
of his wrath he talked of retaliating on the Venetian 
admiral by a similar punishment. But, happily, the 
remonstrances of Colonna — who, as the papal com- 
mander, had in truth the most reason to complin — 
and the entreaties of other friends prevailed on the 
angry chief to abstain from any violent act. He in- 
sisted, however, that Veniero should never again take 
his place at the council-board, but should be there 
represented by the provvedilore Barbarigo, next in 
command, — a man, fortunately, possessed of a better 
control over his temper than was shown by his supe- 
rior. Thus the cloud passed away which threatened 
for a moment to break up the harmony of the allies 
and to bring ruin on the enterprise.' 

* Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 64.— Vanderhammen, Don Juac 
de Austria, fol. 173. — Panita, Guerra di Cipro, p. 149. — Relaeion da 
la Balalla naval que entre Christianos y Turcos hubo el aEo 1571, 
MS. — Otia Relaeion. Documentos injditos, lom. iii. p. 365. 
Philip.— Vol. III. 36 



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' A 



i09 



iVAX WITH THE TURKS. 



On the third of October, Don John, without waiting 
longer for the missing vessels, again put to sea, and 
stood for the gulf of Lepanto. As the fleet swept down 
the Ionian Sea, it passed many a spot famous in ancient 
story. None, we may imagine, would be so likely to 
excite an interest at this time as Actium, on whose 
waters was fought the greatest naval battle of antiquity. 
But the mariner, probably, gave little thought to the 
past, as he dwelt on the conflict that awaited him at 
Lepanto. On the fitlh, a thick fog enveloped the 
armada and shut out every object irom sight. For- 
tunately, the vessels met with no injury, and, passing 
by Ithaca, the ancient home of Ulysses, they safely 
anchored off the eastern coast of Cephalonia. For 
two days their progress was thwarted by head-winds. 
But on the seventh, Don John, impatient of delay, 
again put to sea, though wind and weather were still 
unfavorable. 

While lying off Cephalonia he had received tidings 
that Famagosta, the second city of Cyprus, had fallen 
into the hands of the enemy, and this under circum- 
stances of unparalleled perfidy and cruelty. The place, 
after a defence that had cost hecatombs of lives to the 
besiegers, was allowed to capitulate on honorable terms. 
Mustapha, the Moslem commander, the same fierce 
chief who had conducted the siege of Malta, requested 
an interview at his quarters with four of the principal 
Venetian captains. Afler a short and angry confer- 
ence, he ordered them all to execution. Three were 
beheaded. The other, a noble named Bragadino, who 
had held the supreme command, he caused to be flayed 
alive in the market-place of the city. The skin of the 



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TOWER OF THE MOOR, FAMAG08TA, CYPRUS. 



D,a,l,zc.bvG00gIe 



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TIDINGS OF THE ENEMY. 



303 



wretched \ictim was then stuffed; and with this ghastlv 
trophy dangling from the yard-arm of his galley, the 
brutal monster sailed back to Constantinople, to re- 
ceive the reward of his services from Sclim.* These 
services were great. The fall of Famagosta secured 
(he fall of Cyprus, which thus became permanently 
incorporated in the Ottoman empire.' 

The tidings of these shocking events filled the breast 
of every Venetian with an inextinguishable thirst for 
vengeance. The confederates entered heartily into 
these feelings; and all on board of the armada were 
impatient for the hour that was to bring them hand to 
hand with the enemies of the Faith. 

It was two hours before dawn, on Sunday, the mem- 
orable seventh of October, when the fleet weighed 
anchor. The wind had become lighter; but it was 
still contrary, and the galleys were indebted for their 
progress much more to their oars than their sails. By 
sunrise they were abreast of the Curzolari, a cluster of 
huge rocks, or rocky islets, which on the north defends 
the entrance of the gulf of Lepanto. The fleet moved 
laboriously along, while every eye was strained to catch 
the first glimpse of the hostile navy. At length the 
watch on the foretop of the ^f<i/ called out, "A sail!" 
and soon after declared that the whole Ottoman fleet 
was in sight. Several others, climbing up the rigging, 
confirmed his report ; and in a few moments more, 

• Parula, Guerra di Cipro, pp, 143, 144. — " Despuea hao que lo 
degollassen vivo, y lleno el pellejo de paja lo hiio colgar de liyentena 
de una goleota, y deata manera lo Ilevu por toda la ribera de l> Suria." 
Torres y Aguilera. Chronica, fol. 45. 

Ilbid.. fol. 44, 45. — Panita. Guecra di Cipro, pp. 130-144. — Sacredo. 
Monarcas OUioniaiuis pp. 283-389. 



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304 



HUX WITH Tim TURKS. 



trord was sent to the same efTect by Andrew Dona, 
who commanded on the right. There was no longer 
any doubt; and Don John, ordering his pennon to 
be displayed at the mizzen-peak, unfurled the great 
standard of the League, given by the pope, and 
directed a gun to be fired, the signal for battle. The 
report, as it ran along the rocky shores, fell cheerily 
on the ears of the confederates, who, raising their 
eyes towards the consecrated banner, filled the air 
with their shouts.* 

The principal captains now came on board the Real, 
to receive the last orders of the commander-in-chief. 
Even at this late hour there were some who ventured 
to intimate their doubts of the expediency of engaging 
the enemy in a position where he had a decided 
advantage. But Don John cut short the discussion. 
"Gentlemen," he said, "this is the time for combat, 
not for counsel." He then continued the dispositions 
he was making for the attack. 

He had already given to each commander of a galley 
written instructions as to the manner in which the line 
of battle was to be formed in case of meeting the 
enemy. The aimada was now disposed In that order. 
It extended on a front of three miles. Far on the 
right, a squadron of sixty-four galleys was commanded 
by the Genoese admiral, Andrew Doria, — a name of 
terror to the Moslems. The centre, or battU, as it was 
called, consisting of sixty-three galleys, was led by 
John of Austria, who was supported on the one side 
by Colonna, the captain -general of the pope, and on 



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PREPARATIONS FOR COMBAT 



30s 



die other by the Venetian captain -general, Veniero. 
Immediately in the rear was the galley of the Grand 
Commander Requesens, who still remained near the 
person of his former pupil ; though a difference which 
arose between them on the voyage, fortunately now 
healed, showed that the young commander-in-chief 
was wholly independent of his teacher in the art of 
war. 

The left wing was commanded by the noble Venetian, 
Barbarigo, whose vessels stretched along the ^tolian 
shore, to which he approached as near as, in his igno- 
rance of the coast, he dared to venture, so as to prevent 
his being turned by the enemy. Finally, the reserve, 
consisting of thirty-live galleys, was given to the brave 
marquis of Santa Cruz, with directions to act in any 
quarter where he thought his presence most needed. 
The smaller craft, some of which had now arrived, 
seem to have taken little part in the action, which was 
thus left to the galleys. 

Each commander was to occupy so much space with 
his galley as to allow room for manceuvring it to 
advantage, and yet not enough to allow the enemy to 
break the line. He was directed to single out his 
adversary, to close with him at once, and board as 
soon as possible. The beaks of the galleys were 
pronounced to be a hinderance rather than a help in 
action. They were rarely strong enough to resist a 
shock from an antagonist, and they much interfered 
with the working and firing of the guns. Don John 
had the beak of his vessel cut away. The example 
was followed throughout the fleet, and, as it is said, 
with eminently good effect. It may seem strange that 



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3o6 W-^JP it'ITIl THE TURAS. 

this discovery sh™ild have been reserved for the crisis 
of a battle.) 

When the officers had received their last instructions, 
theyrettimed to their respective vessels; and Don John, 
going on board of a light frigate, passed rapidly through 
the part of the armada lying on his right, while he com- 
ipanded Requesens to do the same with the vessels on 
his lefl. His object was to feel the temper of his men, 
and to rouse their mettle by a few words of encourage- 
ment. The Venetians he reminded of their recent 
injuries. The hour for vengeance, he told them, had 
arrived. To the Spaniards and other confederates he 
said, " You have come to fight the battle of the Cross; 
to conquer or to die. But, whether you are to die oi 
conquer, do your duty this day, and you will secure a 
glorious immortality." His words were received with 
a burst of enthusiasm which went to the heart of the 
commander and assured him that he could rely on his 
men in the hour of trial. On returning to his vessel, he 
sawVenieroon his quarter-deck ; and they exchanged 
salutations in as friendly a manner as if no difference 
had existed between them. At this solemn hour both 
these brave men were willing to forget all personal 
animosity in a common feeling of devotion to the great 
cause in which they were engaged.' 

The Ottoman fleet came on slowly and with difficulty. 
For, strange to say, the wind, which had hitherto been 

s Torrea y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 53. — Hrrrera. Hisl. general, 
torn. ii. p. 30. — Relacion de la Balalla dbvo], MS. — Resell, Hutoria 
del Combale navil, pp. 95, 99. too. 

•Toiras y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 67. et seq. — ReUdou d« la 
Balalla naval, MS. — Otras Relaciones, Documentos iniditai. torn. iii. 
pp. 343, 363. 



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PREPARATIONS FOR COMBAT. 307 

adverse to the Christians, after lulling for a time, sud- 
denly shifted to the opposite quarter and blew in the 
face of the enemy.' As the day advanced, moreover, 
the sun, which had shone in the eyes of the confederates, 
gradually shot its rays into those of the Moslems. Both 
circumstances were of good omen to the Christians, and 
the first was regarded as nothing short of a direct inter* 
position of Heaven. Thus ploughing its way along, 
the Turkish armament, as it came more into view, 
showed itself in greater strength than had been antici- 
pated by the allies. It consisted of nearly two hundred 
and fifty royal galleys, most of them of the largest class, 
besides a number of smaller vessels in the rear, which, 
like those of the allies, appear scarcely to have come 
into action. The men on board, of every description, 
were computed at not less than a hundred and twenty 
thousand.' The galleys spread out, as usual with the 
Turks, in the form of a regular half-moon, covering a 
wider extent of surface than the combined fleets, which 
they somewhat exceeded in number. They presented, 
indeed, as they drew nearer, a magnificent array, with 
their gilded and gaudily-painted prows, and their 
myriads of pennons and streamers fluttering gayly in 
the breeze ; while the rays of the morning sun glanced 

f Most of tbe authorities notice this auspicious change of the wind. 
Among others, see Relacion de la Batalla naval. MS.,— Relacion 
escrila par Miguel Setvia. confesor de Don Juan, Documentoa 
iii^tos. lom. li. p. 36B,— Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 75.— Thi> 
testimony is that of peisoos present in the action. 

* Amidst the contradictory estimates of the number of the vessels 
and tbe forces in the Turkish atmada to be found in difTerent writers 

in Setlor Rosell's Mtmnria, prepared after a careful comparisor. o[ 
(be Tuioui authorities. Historia del Combale naval, p. 94. 



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joS fVAX WITH THE TURKS. 

on the polished scimitars of Damascus, and on the 
niperb aigrettes of jewels which sparkled in the turbans 
of the Ottoman chiefs. 

In the centre of the extended line, and directly 
opposite to the station occupied by the captain -general 
of the League, was the huge galley of Ali Pasha. The 
right of the armada was commanded by Mahomet 
Sirocco, viceroy of Egypt, a circumspect as well as 
courageous leader; the left, by Uluch Ali, dey of 
Algiers, the redoubtable corsair of the Mediterranean. 
Ali Pasha tiad experienced a difficulty like that of Don 
John, as several of his officers had strongly urged the 
inexpediency of engaging so formidable an armament 
as that of the allies. But Ali, like his rival, was young 
and ambitious. He had been sent by his master to 
light the enemy ; and no remonstrances, not even those 
of Mahomet Sirocco, for whom he had great respect, 
could turn him from his piupose. 

He had, moreover, received intelligence that the 
allied fleet was much inferior in strength to what it 
proved. In this error he was fortified by the first 
appearance of the Christians; for the extremity of 
their left wing, commanded by Barbarigo, stretching 
behind the ^tolian shore, was hidden from his view. 
As he drew nearer and saw the whole extent of the 
Christian lines, it is said his countenance fell. If so, 
he still did not abate one jot of his resolution. He 
spoke to those around him with the same confidence 
as before, of the result of the battle. He urged his 
rowers to strain every nerve. Ali was a man of more 
humanity in Iiis nature than often belonged to his 
nation. His galley-slaves were all, or nearly alL 



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PXEPARATIONS FOR COMBAT. 



3"y 



Christian cf^tives; and he addressed them in thb 
brief and pithy manner : " If your countrymen arc to 
win this day, Allah give you the benefit of it ; yet if I 
win it, you shall certainly have your freedom. If you 
feel that I do well by you, do then the like by me."* 

As the Turkish admiral drew nearer, he made a 
change in his order of battle, by separating his wings 
farthet from his centre, thus conforming to the disposi- 
tions of the allies. Before he had come within cannon- 
shot, he fired a gun by way of challenge to his enemy 
It was answered by another from the galley of John 
of Austria. A second gun discharged by Ali was as 
promptly replied to by the Christian commander. 
The distance between the two fleets was now rapidly 
diminishing. At this solemn moment a death-like 
silence reigned throughout the armament of the con- 
federates. Men seemed to hold their breath, as if 
absorbed in the expectation of some great catastrophe. 
The day was magnificent. A light breeze, still adverse 
to the Turks, played on the waters, somewhat fretted 
by the contrary winds. It was nearly noon ; and as 
the sun, mounting through a cloudless sky, rose to the 
zenith, he seemed to pause, as if to look down on the 
beautiful scene, where the multitude of galleys, moving 
over the water, showed like a holiday spectacle rather 
than a preparation for mortal combat. 

TTie illusion was soon dispelled by the fierce yells 

* " Si hoy es vuestro dia, Dios os \a At ; pero eatad ciErtos que il 
gano 1a Jornada, os dar£ libeitad ; por lo tanto haced lo que debeis A 
loi obrai que dc ml habeis recebido."' Resell, Historia del Combats 
naval, p. toi, — For the last pages see Parula, Guerra di Cipro, pp. 
ijo. 151. — Sagredo, Monarcas Olhomanos. p. 392. — Tones y Apiilire, 
Chroaica. Ibl. 65, 66,— Relauion de la Batalla naval. MS. 



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3JO 



MTAX WITH THE TURKS. 



which rose on the air from the Turkish armada. Il 
Tras the customary war-cry with which the Moslems 
entered into battle. Very different was the scene on 
board of the Christian galleys. Don John might be 
there seen, armed cap-A-pie, standing on the prow of 
the Real, anxiously awaiting the conflict. In this con- 
spicuous position, kneeling down, he raised his eyes to 
heaven, and humbly prayed that the Almighty would 
be with his people on that day. His example was fol- 
lowed by the whole fleet. Officers and men, all pros- 
trating themselves on their knees and turning their 
eyes to the consecrated banner which floated from the 
Real, put up a petition like that of their commander. 
They then received absolution from the priests, of 
whom there were some in every vessel ; and each 
man, as he rose to his feet, gathered new strength, 
as he felt assured that the Lord of Hosts would fight 
on his side." 

When the foremost vessels of the Turks had come 
within cannon-shot, they opened their fire on the 
Christians. The firing soon ran along the whole of the 
Turkish line, and was kept up without interruption as 
it advanced. Don John gave orders for trumpet and 
atabal to sound the signal for action ; which was fol- 
lowed by the simultaneous discharge of such of the 

™ This fact is told by most of the hislorians of the bal'le. The 
BUthoT of the manuscript so often cited by me further says that il wai 
wliile the fleet was thus engaged in prayer for aid from ihe Almiglity 
that llie change of wind loali place ; " V en esie medio, que en la 
oiacion se pedia i. Dios la victoria, estaba cl mar allerado de que 
nuestra armada recibia gian dailo y antes que se acabose la dicha 
oracioa cl mar estuvo tan quleto y sosegado que jamas se a vkto, y 
b\i fuerja i. la anuada encmiga amainar y venic al remo." 



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BATTLE OF LBPANTO. 



3" 



guns in the combined fleet as could be brought to beat 
on the enemy. The Spanish commander had caused 
\}a,<t galeastas, those mammoth war-ships of which some 
account has been already given, to be towed half a 
mile ahead of the fleet, where they might intercept the 
advance of the Turks. As the latter came abreast of 
them, the huge galleys delivered their broadsides right 
and left, and their heavy ordnance produced a startling 
effect. All Pasha gave orders for his galleys to open 
their line and pass on either side, without engaging 
these monsters of the deep, of which he had had no 
experience. Even so their heavy guns did considerable 
damage to several of the nearest vessels, and created 
some confusion in the paclia's line of battle. They 
were, however, but unwieldy craft, and, having accom- 
plished their object, seem to have taken no further part 
in the combat. 

The action began on the left wing of the allies, which 
Mahomet Sirocco was desirous of turning. This had 
been anticipated by Barbarigo, the Venetian admiral, 
who commanded in that quarter. To prevent it, as we 
have seen, he lay with his vessels as near the coast as 
he dared. Sirocco, better acquainted with the sound- 
ings, saw there was space enough for him to pass, and, 
darting by with all the speed that oars could give him, 
he succeeded in doubling on his enemy. Thus placed 
between two fires, the extreme of the Christian left 
fought at terrible disadvantage. No less than eight 
galleys went to the bottom, and several others were 
captured. The brave Barbarigo, throwing himself into 
the heat of the fight, without availing himself of his 
defensive armor, was pierced in the eye by an arrow, 



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311 WAff WITH THE TURKS. 

and, reluctant to leave the glory of the field to another, 
was borne to his cabin. The combat still continued 
with unabated fury on the part of the Venetians. Thev 
fought like men who felt that the war was theirs, and 
who were animated not only by the thirst for glory, buf 
for revenge." 

Far on the Christian right a manosuvre similar tc 
that so successfully executed by Sirocco was attempted 
by Uluch All, the dey of Algiers. Profiting by his 
superiority in numbers, he endeavored to turn the right 
wing of the confederates. It was in this quarter that 
Andrew Doria commanded. He had foreseen this 
movement of his enemy, and he succeeded in foiling 
it. It was a trial of skill between the two most accom- 
plished seamen in the Mediterranean. Doria extended 
his line so far to the right, indeed, to prevent being 
surrounded, that JDon John was obliged to remind him 
that he left the centre too much exposed. His dispo- 
sitions were so far unfortunate for himself that his own 
line was thus weakened and afforded some vuln«rable 
points to his assailant. These were soon detected by 
the eagle eye of Uluch Ali ; and, like the king of birds 
swooping on his prey, he fell on some galleys separated 
by a considerable interval from their companions, and, 

■■ Torrei y Aguitera. Clironica, fol. 71. — Panila, Gueira di Ctpro. 
p. 156. — Cabrera, Filipe S^Mndo, p. 68S. — RelacioD de la Baulla 
njval, MS.— Oi™ Relacion, Documentos iniditos, torn. li. p. 368,— 
The inestimable colleclian of the Docunientos in^dilos contains sev- 
eral narratives of the battle of Lepanto by contemporary pens. Otie 
of these is from the manuscript of Fray Miguel Servia, the confessor 
of John of Ausltia. and present with him in the engagement. The 
different nanallves have much less discrepancy wilh one another tban 
Is usual on such occa^ons. 



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BATTLE OP LEPANTO. 313 

sinkiug more than one, carried off the great Capitana 
of Malta in triumph as his prize." 

While the combat opened thus disastrously to the 
allies both on the right and on the left, in the centre 
they may be said to have fought with doubtful fortune. 
Don John had led his division gallantly forward. But 
the object on which he was intent was an encounter 
with Ali Pasha, the foe most worthy of his sword. 
The Turkish commander had the same combat no less 
at heart. The galleys of both were easily recognized, 
not only from their position, but from their superior 
size and richer decoration. The one, moreover, dis- 
played the holy banner of the League ; the other, the 
great Ottoman standard. This, like the ancient stand- 
ard of the caliphs, was held sacred in its character. It 
was covered with texts from the Koran, emblazoned in 
letters of gold, and had the name of Allah inscribed 
upon it no less than twenty-eight thousand nine hun- 
dred times. It was the banner of the sultan, having 
passed* from father to son since the foundation of the 
imperial dynasty, and was never seen in the field unless 
the grand seigneur or his lieutenant was there in person." 

Both the chiefs urged on their rowers to the top of 

" Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 7a.— Relacion Ue la Balalla 
naval, MS.— The last-menlioned manuscript is one of many left DS 
by parties engaged in Ibe fight The author of this relation seems to 
have written it on board one of the galleys, while lying ax Pelala 
during the week after the eng;agenient. The events are told in • 
plain, nnafEected manner, that invites the . confidence of the reader. 
Tb« original manoscript. from which my copy was token, i? iq b« 
lound in the library of the Univeisity of Leyden. 

■5 A mlnulo descripdon of the Ottoman standard, taken from a 
manuscript of Luis del Mirmol. is given in the Coieccion de Doca> 

Philip.— Vol. 111.— o ' a? 



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J14 »"-<* WITH THE TURKS. 

their speed. Their galleys soon shot ahead of the reiti 
of the liae, driven through the boiling surges as by the 
force of a tornado, and closed with a shock that made 
every timber crack and the two vessels quiver to their 
very keels. So powerful, indeed, was the impetus they 
received that the pacha's galley, which was considerablj- 
the larger and loftier of the two, v/as thrown so far 
upon its opponent that the prow reached the fourth 
bench of rowers. As soon as the vessels were disen- 
gaged from each other, and those on board had recov- 
ered from the shock, the work of death began. Don 
John's chief strength consisted in some three hundred 
Spanish arquebusiers, culled from the flower of his 
infantry. Ali, on the other hand, was provided with 
an equal number of janizaries. He was followed by a 
smaller vessel, in which two hundred more were sta- 
tioned as a corps de riserve. He had, moreover, a 
hundred archers on board. The bow was still as much 
in use with the Turks as with the other Moslems. 

The pacha opened at once on his enemy a terrible 
fire of cannon and musketry. It was returned with 
equal spirit and much more effect ; for the Turks were 
observed to shoot over the heads of their adversaries. 
The Moslem galley was unprovided with the defences 
which protected the sides of the Spanish vessels ; and 
the troops, crowded together on the lofty prow, pre 
sented an easy mark to their enemy's balls. But, 
though numbers of them fell at every discharge, their 
places were soon supplied by those in reserve. They 
were enabled, therefore, to keep up an incessant fire, 
which wasted the strength of the Spaniards ; and, as 
b>ith Christian and Mussulman fought with indomJtabU 



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BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 



3'S 



spirit, it seemed doubtful to which side victory would 
iDcline. 

The affair was made more complicated by the entrance 
of other parties into the conflict. Both Ali and Don 
John were supported by some of the most valiant cap- 
tains in their fleets. Next to the Spanish commander, 
as we have seen, were Colonna and the veteran Veniero, 
who, at the age of seventy-six, performed feats of arms 
worthy of a paladin of romance. In this way a little 
squadron of combatants gathered round the principal 
leaders, who sometimes found themselves assailed by 
several enemies at the same time. Still the chiefs did 
not lose sight of one another ; but, beating oflT their infe- 
rior foes as well as they could, each, refusing to loosen 
his hold, clung with mortal grasp to his antagonist."* 

Thus the fight raged along the whole extent of the 
entrance to the gulf of Lepanto. The volumes of vapor 
rolling heavily over the waters effectually shut out from 
sight whatever was passing at any considerable distance, 
unless when a fresher breeze dispelled the smoke for a 
moment, or the flashes of the heavy guns threw a 
transient gleam on the dark canopy of battle. If the 
eye of the spectator could have penetrated the cloud 
of smoke that enveloped the combatants, and have 
embraced the whole scene at a glance, he would have 
perceived them broken up into small detachments, 
separately engaged one with another, independently of 
the rest, and indeed ignorant of all that was doing in 
other quarters. The contest exhibited few of those 

H Documentoi inidiloi, torn. iii. p. 363 ; torn, xi, p. 36B. — Torres y 
Aguilera, Chronica, Ibl, 70. — Paruta. Guerra di Cipro, pp. 156. 157, 
— Relacion de la Baldla naval, MS. 



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jl6 WAS HVTff THE TURKS, 

Urge combinations and skilful manceuvres to be ex- 
pected in a great naval encounter. It was rather an 
assemblage of petty actions, resembling those on land. 
The galleys, grappling together, presented a level arena, 
on which soldier and galley-slave fought hand to hand, 
and the fate of the engagement was generally decided 
by boarding. As in most hand-to-hand contests, there 
was an enormous waste of life. The decks were loaded 
with corpses, Christian and Moslem lying promiscu- 
ously together in the embrace of death. Instances 
are recorded where every man on board was slain or 
wounded." It was a ghastly spectacle, where blood 
Howed in rivulets down the sides of the vessels, staining 
the waters of the gulf for miles around. 

It seemed as if a hurricane had swept over the sea 
and covered it with the wreck of the noble armaments 
which a moment before were so proudly riding on its 
bosom. Little had they now to remind one of their 
late magnificent array, with their hulls battered, their 
masts and spars gone or splintered by the shot, their 
canvas cut into shreds and floating wildly on the breeee, 
while thousands of wounded and drowning men were 
clinging to the floating fragments and calling piteously 
for help. Such was the wild uproar which succeeded 
the Sabbath-like stillness that two hours before had 
reigned over these beautiful solitudes. 

t Herrera notices one galley. " La Piamonwu. At Saboya de- 
^llada en ella toda. la genlc de cabo y remo y despeduado con once 
beridas D. Francisco de Satjoya." Aaolber, " La Florenda," says 
Rosell, " perdi6 todos los soldados, chusma, galeotes y cabsUeros de 
San Esteban que en ella habia, excepto «u capitan Tomjs de JIMidi 
; diei y seis hombres mis. aunque todos heridos y esuopnuiliM." 
Hutoiia del Combate naval, p. 113. 



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BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 



3'7 



The left wing of the confederates, comniandcd by 
Baibarigo, had been sorely pressed by the Turks, as we 
have seen, at the beginning of the light. Barbaiigo 
himself had been mortally wounded. His line had 
been turned. Several of his galleys had been sunk. 
But the Venetians gathered courage from despair. By 
incredible efforts, they succeeded in beating off their 
enemies. They became the assailants in their turn. 
Sword in hand, they carried one vessel after another. 
The Capuchin was seen in the thickest of the fight, 
waving aloft his crucifix and leading the boarders to 
the assault." The Christian galley-slaves, in some 
instances, broke their fetters and joined their country- 
men against their masters. Fortunately, the vessel of 
Mahomet Sirocco, the Moslem admiral, was sunk ; and 
though extricated from the water himself, it was only 
to perish by the sword of his conqueror, Giovanni 
Contarini. The Venetian could find in his heart no 
mercy for the Turk. 

The fall of their commander gave the final blow to 
his followers. Without further attempt to prolong the 
fight, they fled before the avenging swords of the Vene- 
tians. Those nearest the land endeavored to escape 
by running their vessels ashore, where they abandoned - 
them as prizes to the Christians. Yet many of the 
fiigitives, before gaining the land, perished miserably 
in the waves. Barbarigo, the Venetian admiral, who 

■<> " Tomo una Alabarrla o Peitesana, y liganito en ella el Saiictc 
Crudfixo, verdadera pendon, se puso delanie de lodos assi desaimado 
como eslava. jr fue el primero que entjo en la Galera Turquesca, 
haoendo con su Alabaida cosai que ponian admiradon." Toires f 
AguilcA, Chionicas, Ibl. 75. 

21* 



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3i8 f'tJl WITH THE TURKS. 

was still lingering in agony, heard the tidings of the 
enemy's defeat, and, uttering a few words expressive 
of his gratitude to Heaven, which had permitted him 
to see this hour, he breathed his last," 

During this time the combat had been going forward 
in the centre between the two commanders-in-chief, 
Don John and Ali Pasha, whose galleys blazed with an 
incessant fire of artillery and musketry, that enveloped 
them like "a martyr's robe of flames." The parties 
fought with equal spirit, though not with equal fortune. 
Twice the Spaniards had boarded their enemy, and 
both times they had been repulsed with loss. Still, 
their superiority in the use of fire-arms would have 
given them a decided advantage over their opponents 
if the loss they had inflicted had not been speedily 
repaired by fresh reinforcements. More than once the 
contest between the two chieftains was interrupted by 
the arrival of others to take part in the fray. They 
soon, however, returned to each other, as if unwilling 
to waste their strength on a meaner enemy. Through 
the whole engagement both commanders exposed them- 
selves to danger as freely as any common soldier. In 
such a contest even Philip must have admitted that it 
would be difficult for his brother to find, with honor, a 
place of safety. Don John received a wound in the 
foot. It was a slight one, however, and he would not 
allow it to be dressed till the action was over. 

'^ " Vivi6 basta que sabiendo que Ii vllorla era ganada dijo : qne 
dnba graciai d Dios que lo hubiese guardado tanto que vieie vencida 
la batalla y tolo aquel comun enemigo que tanto (lese6 ver destniido." 
Heirera. Relacion de la Guen^ de Cipro, Documentos inMilos. Ion. 
ii.p.360. 



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BATTLE OF LEPAISTTO. 



3^9 



Again his men were mustered, and a third time the 
tmmpetE sounded to the attack. It was more successfiil 
than the preceding. The Spaniards threw themselves 
boldly into the Turkish galley. They were met with 
the same spirit as before by the janizaries. Ali Pasha 
led them on. Unfortunately, at this moment he was 
struck in the head by a musket -ball and stretched sense- 
less in the gangway. His men fought worthily of their 
ancient renown. But they missed the accustomed voice 
of their commander. After a short but ineffectual 
struggle against the fiery impetuosity of the Spaniards, 
they were overpowered and threw down their arms. 
The decks were loaded with the bodies of the dead 
and the dying. Beneath these was discovered the 
Turkish commander-in-chief, severely wounded, but 
perhaps not mortally. He was drawn forth by some 
Castilian soldiers, who, recognizing his person, would 
at once have despatched him. But the disabled chief, 
having rallied from the first effects of his wound, had 
sufficient presence of mind to divert them from their 
purpose by pointing out the place below where he had 
deposited his money and jewels ; and they hastened to 
profit by the disclosure before the treasure should fall 
into the hands of their comrades. 

Ali was not so successful with another soldier, who 
came up soon after, brandishing his sword and pre- 
paring to plunge it into the body of the prostrate 
commander. It was in vain that the latter endeav- 
ore<| to turn the ruffian from his purpose. He was a 
convict, one of those galley-slaves whom Don John 
bad caused to be unchained from the oar and fur- 
nished with arms. He could not believe that any 



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jao 



IVAX WITH THE TUFKS, 



treasure would be worth so much as the head of the 
pacha. Without further hesitation, he dealt him a 
blow which severed it from his shoulders. Then, re- 
turning to his galley, he laid the bloody trophy before 
Don John. But he had miscalculated on his recom- 
pense. His commander gazed on it with a fook of 
pity mingled with horror. He may have thought of 
the generous conduct of Ali to his Christian captives, 
and have felt that he deserved a better fate. He 
coldly inquired "of what use such a present could be 
to him," and then ordered it to be thrown into the 
sea. Far from the order being obeyed, it is said the 
head was stuck on a pike and raised aloft on board 
of the captured galley. At the same time the banner 
of the Crescent was pulled down ; while that of the 
Cross, run up in its place, pioclaimed the downfall of 
the pacha," 

The sight of the sacred ensign was welcomed by the 
Christians with a shout of "Victory!" which rose high 
above the din of battle." The tidings of the death of 

>■ Rciacion de la Batalla naval, MS.— Hetrera, Hist, general, torn. 
H, p. 33. — Parula, Guerra di Cipro, pp, tS7, 158. — Documenlta inidi- 
tos, torn. iii. p. 344. — Torres y Aguilera tells a rather extraordinary 
anecdote respecting the grcal itandard of the League in the Real. 
The figure of Christ emblazoned on it was not hit by a ball or arrow 
during (he action, notwithstanding every other banner was pierced in 
a multitude of places. Two arrows, however, lodged on either side 
of the cnicifix, when a. monkey belonging to the galley ran up the 
mast, and, drawing out the weapons with his teeth, th.'ew them over- 
board I (Chronica, Ibl. 75.) Considering the number of ecclesiastic* 
on board the fleet, it is remarkable thai no more miracies occurred 
on this occasion. 

■v Tones y Aguilera, Chronica, fbl. 7a, et seq, — Relaeion de !■ 
Batalla naval. MS. — Vanderhammen, Don Joan its Austria, fol. iBa. 



t,CoogIf 



BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 35.1 

All soon passed from mouth to mouth, giving fresh 
heart to the confederates, but falling like a knell on 
the ears of the Moslems. Their confidence was gone. 
Their fire slackened. Their efforts grew weaker and 
weaJcer. They were too far from shore to seek an 
asylum there, like their comrades on the right. They 
had no resource but to prolong the combat or to sur- 
render. Most preferred the tatter. Many vessels were 
carried by boarding, others were sunk by the victorious 
Christians. Ere four hours had elapsed, the centre, 
like the right wing, of the Moslems might be said to 
be annihilated. 

Still the fight was lingering on the right of the con- 
federates, where, it will be remembered, Uluch Ali, 
the Algerine chief, had profited by Doria's error in 
extending his line so far as greatly to weaken it. 
Uluch Ali, attacking it on its most vulnerable quarter, 
had succeeded, as we have seen, in capturing and de- 
stroying several vessels, and would have inflicted still 
heavier losses on his enemy had it not been for the 
seasonable succor received from the marquis of Santa 
Cni2. This brave officer, who commanded the reserve, 
hatl already been of much service to Don John when 
the Real was assailed by several Turkish galleys at 
once during his combat with Ali Pasha ; for at this 
juncture the marquis of Santa Cruz arriving, and beat- 



la Crui del RedenI 



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sat 



IVAR WITH THE TURKS. 



ing off die assailants, one of whom he afterwards cap- 
tured, enabled the commander-in-chief to resume his 
engagement with the pacha. 

No sooner did Santa Cruz learn the critical situation 
of Doria than, supported by Cardona, "general" of 
the Sicilian squadron, he pushed forward to his relief. 
^;>a£hing into the midst of the m6lfe, the two com- 
manders fell like a thunderbolt on the Algerine gal- 
leys. Few attempted to withstand the shock. But in 
their haste to avoid it they were encountered by Doria 
and his Genoese galleys. Thus beset on all sides, 
Uluch Ali was compelled to abandon his prizes and 
provide for his own safety by flight. He cut adrift the 
Maltese Capitana, which he had lashed to his stern, 
and on which three hundred corpses attested the des- 
perate character of her defence. As tidings reached 
him of the discomfiture of the centre and of the death 
of Ali Pasha, he felt that nothing remained but to 
make the best of his way from the fatal scene of action 
and save as many of his own ships as he could. And 
there were no ships in the Turkish fleet superior to his, 
or manned by men under more perfect discipline. For 
they were the famous corsairs of the Mediterranean, 
who had been rocked from infancy on its waters. 

Throwing out his signals for retreat, the Algerine 
was soon to be seen, at the head of his squadron, 
standing towards the north, ^under as much canvas aa 
remained to him after the battle, and urged forward 
through the deep by the whole strength of his oars- 
men. Doria and Santa Cruz followed quickly in his 
wake. But he was borne on the wings of the wind, 
and soon distanced his pursuers. Don John, liaving 



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ROUT OF THE TURKISH ARMADA. 



m 



disposed of his own assailants, was coming to the sup- 
port of Doria, and now joined in the pursuit of the 
viceroy. A rocky headland, stretching far into the 
sea, lay in the path of the fugitive ; and his enemies 
hoped to intercept him there. Some few of his vessels 
were stranded on the rocks. But the rest, near forty 
in number, standing more boldly out to sea, safely 
doubled the promontory. Then, quickening their 
flight, they gradually faded from the horizon, their 
white sails, the last thing visible, showing in the dis- 
tance like a flock of Arctic sea-fowl on their way to 
their native homes. The confederates explained the 
inferior sailing of their own galleys on this occa,sion 
by the circumstance of their rowers, who had been 
allowed to bear arms in the fight, being crippled by 
their wounds. 

The battle had lasted more than four hours. The 
sky, which had been almost without a cloud through 
the day, began now to be overcast, and showed signs 
of a coming storm. Before seeking a place of shelter 
for himself and his prizes, Don John reconnoitred the 
scene of action. He met with several vessels too much 
damaged for further service. These, mostly belonging 
to the enemy, after saving what was of any value on 
board, he ordered to be burnt. He selected the neigh- 
boring port of Petala, as affording the most secure and 
accessible harbor for the night. Before he had arrived 
there, the tempest began to mutter and darkness was 
on the water. Yet the darkness rendered only more 
visible the blazing wrecks, which, sending up streams 
of fire mingled with showers of sparks, looked like 
volcanoes on the deep. 



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CHAPTER XI. 

WAR WITH TH8 TURKS. 

Lones of Ihe Corabatuits. — Don John's Generosity. — Triumplianl 
Return.- -Entbuiiasin throughout Christendom. — Results of the 
BalUe.— Operations in the Levant.— Conquest of Tunis. — Retakeu 
by the Turks. 

Long and loud were the congratulations now paid to 
Ihe young commander-in-chief, by his brave compan- 
ions in arms, on the success of the day. The hours 
passed blithely with officers and men, while they re- 
counted to one another their manifold achievemenrs. 
But feelings of gloom mingled with their gayety, as 
they gathered tidings of the loss of friends who had 
bought this victory with their blood. 

It was indeed a sanguinary battle, surpassing in this 
particular any sea-fight of modern times. The loss fell 
much the most heavily on the Turks. There is the 
usual discrepancy about numbers ; but it may be safe 
to estimate their loss at nearly twenty-five thousand 
slain and five thousand prisoners. What brought most 
pleasure to the hearts of the conquerors was the libera- 
tion of twelve thousand Christian captives, who had 
been chained to the oar on board the Moslem galle>-s, 
and who now came forth, with tears of joy streaming 
down their haggard cheeks, to bless their deliverers.' 

> The loss of ihe Moslems is little belter than miutei of conjecture. 



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LOSSSS OF THE COMBATAXTS. 



3^5 



The loss of the allies was comparatively smaJl, — less 
than eight thousand.' That it was so much less than 
that of their enemies may be referred in part to their 
superiority in the use of iire-arms; in part also to their 
exclusive use of these, instead of employing bows and 
arrows, weapons on which, though much less effective, 
the Turks, like the other Moslem nations, seem to 
have greatly relied. Lastly, the Turks were the van- 
quished party, and in their heavier loss suffered the 
almost invariable lot of the vanq--ished. 

As to their armada, it may almost be said to have 
been annihilated. Not more than forty galleys escaped 
out of near two hundred and fifty which entered into 
the action. One hundred and thirty were taken and 
divided among the conquerors. The remainder, sunk 
or burned, were swallowed up by the waves. To coun- 
terbalance all this, the confederates are said to have 
lost not more than fifteen galleys, though a much 
larger number, doubtless, were rendered unfit for ser- 
vice. This disparity affords good evidence of the in- 
feriority of the Turks in the construction of their 
vessels, as well as in the nautical skill required to 
manage them. A great amount of booty, in the form 
of gold, jewels, and brocade, was found on board sev- 
ei:al of the prizes. The galley of the commander-in- 

to contiadiciory are the sulhorilies. The author of the Leyden Mil, 
dismisses the subject with the remark, " La genie muerta de Turcos 
DO se ha podido saber por que la que Ee hecho en la mar tuera. de los 
degoUados fUerot) infinitos." 1 have conformed, as in my other esti- 
mates, lo those of SeBor Rose)], Hisloria del Combate naval, p. iiB. 
• Rosell computes the total loss of the allies at not less than seven 
thousand sii hundred ; of whom one thousand were Romans, two 
Ibousand Spaniards, and the remainder Venetians. Ilud,. p. 113, 
Philip.— Vol. III. 28 



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336 W'^^ WITH THE TURKS. 

chief alone ts stated to have contained one hundred 
and seventy thousand gold sequins, — a large sum, but 
not large enough, it seems, to buy off his life.' 

The losses of the combatants cannot be fairly pre- 
sented without taking into the account the quality as 
well as the number of the slain. The number of per- 
sons of consideration, both Christians and Moslems, 
who embarked in the expedition, was very great. The 
roll of slaughter shewed that in the race of glory they 
gave little heed to th^ir personal safety. The officer 
second in command among the Venetians, the com- 
mander-in-chief of the Turkish armament, and the 
commander of its right wing, all fell in the battle. 
Many a high-bora cavalier closed at Lepanto a long 
career of honorable service. More than one, on the 
other hand, dated the commencement of their career 
from this day. Such was Alexander Famese, prince of 
Parma. Though he was but a few years younger than 
his uncle, John of Austria, those few years had placed 
an immense distance between their conditions, the one 
filling the post of commander-in-chief, the other being 
only a private adventurer. Yet even so he succeeded 
in winning great renown by his achievements. The 
galley in which he sailed was lying, yard-arm and yard- 
arm, alongside of a Turkish galley, with which it was 
hotly engaged. In the midst of the action Farncse 
sprang on board of the enemy and with his good broad- 
sword hewed down all who opposed him, opening a 

9 Rosell, Hbloria del Combale naval, ubi supra. — Torres y Aguilera. 
Chronica, fol. 74, et seq. — Docunienios inidiios, lorn, iii. pp. 246-349; 
tjBi. xi. p, 370. — Sagredo, Monarcas Oilminanos, pp. 395, 396. — Ro 
luion de la Batalla nuval. MS. 



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LOSSES OF THE COMBATANTS. 



3*7 



path into which his comrades poured one after another, 
and, after a short but murderous contest, succeeded in 
carrying the vessel. As Famese's galley lay just astern 
of Don John's, the latter could witness the achieve- 
ment of his nephew, which filled him with an admira- 
tion he did not affect to conceal. The intrepidity dis- 
played by the young warrior on this occasion gave 
augury of his character in later life, when he succeeded 
his uncle in command and surpassed him in military 
renown.* 

Another youth was in that fight, who, then humble 
and unknown, was destined one day to win laurels of 
a purer and more enviable kind than those which grow 
on the battle-field. This was Cervantes, who at the 
age of twenty-four was serving on board the fleet as a 
common soldier. He had been confined to his bed by 
a fever ; but, notwithstanding the remonstrances of his 
captain, he insisted, on the morning of the action, not 
only on bearing arms, but on being stationed in the 
post of danger. And well did he perform his duty 
there, as was shown by two wounds on the breast, and 
by another in the hand, by which he lost the use of 
it. Fortunately, it was the left hand. The right yet 
remained to indite those immortal productions which 
were to be known as household words, not only in his 
own land, but in every quarter of the civilized world.' 



• Relodon de h 


iBataJlai 


.aval, MS.— Don John not 


ices thia achieve- 


Dieatofhisgallai 


It kinsmai 


;> in the Risl letter which h 


e wrote to Philip 


»fter the action. 


The lett 


er. dated at Petala, October loth, is pub- 


lished bf AparicI 


1, Documc 


;ntos in^ditos relativos i 1 


a Batalla de Le- 


panto, p. =6. 








1 Navante, Vtda de Cervantes (Mailrid, 1819). p. 


19.— Cervante*. 


in the prologue 1 


ra the seci 


Dud part of Eton Quixote, 


, aliudlDK 10 Us- 



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jaS WAX WITH THE TURKS. 

A tierce storm of thunder and lightning raged foi 
fouT-and-twenty hours after the battle, during which 
time the fleet rode safely at anchor in the harbor of 
Pctala. It remained there three days longer. Don 
John profited by the delay to visit the different galleys 
and ascertain their condition. He informed himself 
of the conduct of the troops, and was liberal of hia 
praises to those who deserved them. With the sick 
and the wounded he showed the greatest sympathy, 
endeavoring to alleviate their sufferings, and furnishing 
them with whatever his galley contained that could 
contribute to their comfort.' With so generous and 
sympathetic a nature, it is not wonderful that he should 
have established himself in the hearts of his soldiers.* 

But the proofs of this kindly temper were not confined 
to his own followers. Among the prisoners were two 
sons of Ali, the Turkish commander-in-chief. One 
was seventeen, the other only thirteen years of age. 
Thus early had their father desired to initiate them in 
a profession which, beyond all others, opened the way 
to eminence in Turkey. They were not on board of 
his galley ; and when they were informed of his death 
they were inconsolable. To this affliction was now to 
be added the doom of slavery, 

panio, enthusiastically exclajms that, (or all his wounds, he would not 

■ haberme hallado en aquella faccion prodigiosa. que sano ahora de 
mis heridas, sin haberme hallado en ella." 

* This humane conduct of Don John is mentioned, among olheT 
writera, by the author of the Relacion de la Batalla naval, whose 
language shows that his manuscript was wriuen on the spot; "El 
queda vlsitando los heridos y procurando su remedic iumenUoleS 
merced y dandoles lodo lo que aviase menesler." MS. 



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DOlf yoiIN'S GENEROSITY. 319 

As they were led into the presence of Don John, th« 
youths prostrated themselves on the deck of his vessel. 
But, raising them up, he affect ionately embraced them, 
and said all he could to console them under their 
troubles. He caused them to be treated with the con- 
sideration due to their rank. His secretary, Juan de 
Soto, surrendered his quarters to them. They were 
provided with the richest apparel that could be found 
among the spoil. Their table was served with the same 
delicacies as that of the commander-in-chief; and his 
chamberlains showed the same deference to them as to 
himself. His kindness did not stop with these acts of 
chivalrous courtesy. He received a letter from their 
sister Fatima containing a touching appeal to Don 
John's humanity and soliciting the release of her or- 
phan brothers. He had sent a courier to give their 
friends in Constantinople the assurance of their per- 
sonal safety; "which," adds the lady, "is held by all 
this court as an act of great courtesy, — gran gentiUza ; 
— and there is no one here who does not admire the 
goodness and magnanimity of your highness." She 
enforced her petition with a rich present, for which she 
gracefully apologized, as intended to express her own 
feelings, though far below his deserts.' 

In the division of the spoil, the young princes had 

t " Lo qua] toda csU corte luvo i gran genlileza, y do haien sioo 
■labar U virtud y grandeia de vuestra Alieia," — The letler of Fatima 
b to be found ia Torres y Aguilera, Chronica (fol. gj). The chron- 
icler adds a list of the articles sent by Ihe Turkish princess to Don 
loho, enumerating, among other things, robes of sable, brocade, and 
various rich siufB, fine porcelain, carpets and tapestry, weapons curi- 
auilj Inlaid with gold and silver, and Damascus blades ornamented 
with rubies and turquoises. 

a8» 



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33© W-** WITH THE TURKS. 

been assigned to the pope. But Don John succeeded 
in obtaining their liberation. Unfortunately, the elder 
■died — of a broken heart, it is said — at Naples. The 
younger was sent home, with three of his attendants, 
for whom he had a particular regard. Don John de- 
clined keeping Fatima's present, which he gave to her 
brother. In a letter to ihe Turkish princess, he re- 
marked that he had done this, not because he under- 
valued her beautiful gift, but because it had ever been 
the habit of his royal ancestors freely to grant their 
favors to those who stood in need of them, but not to 
receive aught by way of recompense.* 

The same noble nature he showed in his conduct 
towards Veniero. We have seen the friendly demon- 
stration he made to the testy Venetian on entering 
into battle. He now desired his presence on board 
his galley. As he drew near, Don John came forward 
frankly to greet him. He spoke of his desire to bury 
the past in oblivion, and, complimenting the veteran 
on his prowess in the late engagement, saluted him with 
the endearing name of "father." The old soldier, not 
prepared for so kind a welcome, burst into tears ; and 
there was no one, says the chronicler who tells the 
anecdote, that could witness the scene with a dry eye.* 

• " El presents que me embio deie de rescibir. y le huvo el miamo 
Mahamel Bey. no por no preciarle como cosa venida de su mana. 
llna por que la grandeia de mis antecessores no acustumbra rescibir 
dooea de los necessilados de liavor. sino darlos y baierles gnuias." 
Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol, 94. 

9 According (o some, Don John was induced by the persuasion of 
bis friends to make these advances to Ihc Venetian admiral. (Sue 
Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 75.— Vanderhammen, Don Juaa 
de Austria, fol. 133.) It is certain be could not erase the memory ol 



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TRIUMPHANT HBTURN. 331 

While at Petala, a council of war was called to de- 
cide on the next operations of the fleet. Some were 
for following up the blow by an immediate attack on 
Constantinople. Others considered that, from the want 
of provisions and the damaged state of the vessels, they 
were in no condition for such an enterprise. They 
recommended that the armada should be disbanded, 
that the several squadrons of which it was composed 
should return to their respective winter-quarters and 
meet again in the spring to resume operations. Others, 
again, among whom was Don John, thought that before 
disbanding they should undertake some enterprise com- 
mensurate with their strength. It was accordingly 
determined to lay siege to Santa Maura, in the island 
of Leucadia, — a strongly -fortified place, which com- 
manded the northern entrance into the gulf of Lepanto. 

The fleet, weighing anchor on the eleventh of Oc- 
tober, arrived off Santa Maura on the following day, 
Cn a careful reconnoissance of the ground, it became 
evident that the siege would be a work of much greater 
difficulty than had been anticipated. A council of war 
was again summoned ; and it was resolved, as the season 

the paxi from his bosom, as appears from more than one of his lettera, 
in which he speaks of the difficulty he should find, in another cani- 
paign, in acting in concen with a man of so choleric a temper. In 
consequence the Venetian government was induced, though very re- 
luctantly, (0 employ Veniero on another service. In truth, the con- 
duct which had so much di^usted Don John and the allies seems to 
have (bund favor with Venlero's countrymen, who regarded it as evi- 
dence of his sensitive concern for the honor of his nation. A few 
years later they made ample amends to the veteran (or the slight put 
on him, t>y raising him to the highest dignity in the republic. He 
was the third of his fomily who held the office of doge, to which hs 
wu chosen in 1576, and in which he condnued till his deatb. 



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S3* 



mm: with the turks. 



was far advanced, to suspend further operations for Ihe 
present, to return to winter-quarters, and in the ensuing 
spring to open the campaign under more favorable 
auspices. 

The next step was to make a division of the spoil 
taken from the enemy, which was done in a manner 
Batisfactory to all parties. One-half of the galleys and 
inferior vessels, of the artillery and small arms, and also 
of the captives, was set apart for the Catholic King. 
The other half was divided I)etween the pope and the 
republic, in the proportion settled by the treaty of 
confederation." Next proceeding to Corfu, Don John 
passed three days at that bland, making some necessary 
repairs of his vessels ; then, bidding adieu to the con- 
federates, he directed his course to Messina, which he 
reached, after a stormy passage, on the thirty-first of 
the month. 

We may imagine the joy with which he was welcomed 
by the inhabitants of that city, which he had left but 
little more than six weeks before, and to which he 
had now returned in triumph, after winning the most 
memorable naval victory of modem times. The whole 
population, with the magistrates at their head, hurried 
down to the shore to witness the magnificent spectacle. 
As the gallant armament swept into port, it showed the 
results of the late contest in many a scar. But the 
consecrated standard was still proudly flying at the 

" Tbe spoil (bund on board the Turkish ships was abandoned lo 
(he captors. There was enough of il to make man/ a needy adveu- 
tnrer ricb. " AssI por ta victoria havida como porque muchos veniaa 
Ian ricos y prosperados que no havia hombre que se preciasse de 
gutar moneda de ptata sino Zequinea ni curasse de regatcar en aada 
que compiBssii." Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, lot. 79. 



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TRIUMPHANT RETURN. 



333 



mast-head of the Real; and in the rear came the long 
line of conquered galleys, in much worse plight than 
their conquerors, trailing their banners igoominiously 
behind them through the water. On landing at the 
head of his troops, Don John was greeted with flour 
ishes of music, while salvoes of artillery thundered 
from the fortresses which commanded the city. He 
was received under a gorgeous canopy, and escorted by 
a numerous concourse of citizens and soldie^. The 
clergy, mingling in the procession, broke forth into the 
Te Deum; and, thus entering the cathedral, they all 
joined in thanksgivings to the Almighty for granting 
them so glorious a victory," 

Don John was sumptuously lodged in the castle. He 
was complimented with a superb banquet, — a mode of 
expressing the public gratitude not confined to our 
day, — and received a more substantial guerdon in a 
present from the city of thirty thousand crowns. 
Finally, a colossal statue in bronze was executed by a 
skilful artist, as a permanent memorial of the conqueror 
of Lepanto, Don John accepted the money ; but it 
was only to devote it to the relief of the sick and 
wounded soldiers. In the same generous spirit, he 
had ordered that all his own share of the booty taken 
in the Turkish vessels, including the large amount of 
'gold and rich brocades found in the galley of Ali 
Pasha, should be distributed among the captors." 

" For the preceding pages see Vandethammen, Don Juan de Aiu- 
ttia, fol. iB6, — Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 79, — Cabrera, Filipe 
Segondo, p. 696, — Herreiu, Hisloria genera], tom. ii. p. 37, — Ferrerai, 
KisL d'Espagne. torn. x. p. a6t. 

" An old T»»umct Ihua comiAemorales Ihii libera! conduct of Don 
Jo-.-.: 



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334 



WAR WITH THE TURKS. 



The news of the victory of Lepanto causej a pro- 
found sensation throughout Christendom ; for it had 
been a general opinion that the Turks were invincible 
by sea. The confederates more particularly testified 
their joy by such extraordinary demonstrations as 
showed the extent of their previous fears. In Venice, 
which might be said to have gained a new tease of 
existence from the result of the battle, the doge, the 
senators, and the people met in the great square of St, 
Mark and congratulated one another on the triumph 
of their arms. By a public decree, the seventh of 
October was set apart to be observed forever as a 
national anniversary. 

The joy was scarcely less in Naples, where the people 
had so often seen their coasts desolated by the Ottoman 
cruisers ; and when their admiral, the marquis of Santa 
Cruz, returned to port with his squadron, he was wel- 
comed with acclamations such as greet the conqueror 
returning from his campaign. 

But even these honors were inferior to those which 
in P.ome were paid to Colonna, the captain -general of 
the papal fleet. As he was borne in stately procession, 
with the trophies won from the enemy carried before 
him, and a throng of mourning captives in the rear, the 
spectacle recalled the splendors of the ancient Roman 



ro general (Madrid, iSjr), UK. if. p. :^ 



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ENTHUSIASM THROUGHOUT CHRISTENDOM, 



33S 



triumph. Pius the Fifth had, before this, announced 
that the victory of the Christians had been revealed to 
him from Heaven. But when the tidings reached him 
of the actual result, it so far transcended his expecta- 
tions that, overcome by his emotions, the old pontiff 
burst into a flood of tears, exclaiming, in the words of 
the Evangelist, "There was a man sent from God; and 
his name was John,"" 

We may readily believe that the joy with which the 
glad tidings were welcomed in Spain fell nothing short 
of that with which they were received in other parts of 
Christendom. While lying off Petala, Don John sent 
Lope de Figueroa with despiitches for the king, together 
with the great Ottoman standard, as the most glorious 
trophy taken in the battle." He soon after sent a 
courier with further letters. It so happened that 
neither the one nor the other arrived at the place of 
their destination til! some weeks after the intelligence 
had reached Philip by another channel. This was the 
Venetian minister, who on the last of October received 
despatches from his own government, containing a full 
account of the fight. Hastening with them to the pal- 
ace, he found the king in his private chapel, attending 
vespers on the eve of All-Saints. The news, it cannot 
be doubted, filled his soul with joy; though it is saia 

■J Lorea. Vida de Ro Quinio, cap. ixiv. J ii.— Torres y Apiilera. 
Chronica, IbJ. So.~Rosell, Hisloria del Combate naval, pp. 134. 135. 

M Philip, in a leiler 10 his brother dated from the Escorial In the 
following November, speaks of his delight at receiving this trophy 
from the hands of Figueroa, (See the letter, ap. RoseU, Hisl. del 
Combale naval. Apjod. No. 15.) The standard was deposited in the 
Escoiial. where it was destroyed by (ire in the year 1671. Dac\i- 
neiilos inMitos, torn. iii. p. 356. 



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jj6 WAR WITH THE TURKS. 

that, far from exhibiting this in his demeanor, he 
continued to be occupied with his devotions, without 
the least change of countenance, till the services were 
concluded. He then ordered Te Deutn to be sung."* 
All present joined, with overflowing hearts, in pouring 
forth their gratitude to the Lord of Hosts for granting 
such a triumph to the Cross. ■* 

That night there was a grand illumination in Madrid. 
The following day mass was said by the papal legate in 
presence of the king, who afterwards took part in a 
solemn procession to the church of St. Mary, where the 
people united with the court in a general thanksgiving, 

■1 ''Y S. M. no se altenS. ni demudS, ni hiw sentimienio alguno. y 
le esiuvo con el semblanle y serenldad que antes esu^ia. con el qual 
seroblanle estuvo hasta que se acabaron de cantar las vlspems." 
Memarias de Fray Juan de San Geidnlmo, Documenlos Injdllos, 
torn. iii. p. 358. 

■• The diird volume of the Documentos iniditos contains a copious 
extract kam a manuscript in the Escorial wrillen by a Jeronymile 
monl:. In this the writer stales that Philip received intelligence of 
the victory from a courier despatched by Don John, while engaged at 
(especs in the palace monastery of the Escorial. This account is the 
one followed by Cabrera (Filipe Segundo, p. 696) and by the prin- 
cipal Castillan writers. lis inaccuracy, however, is sutRclently at- 

by the royal secretary Aliamora, the other by Philip himself. Ac- 
cording to (heir account, the person who first conveyed the tidings 
was the Venetian minister; and the place where they were received 
by the king was the private chapel of the palace at Madrid, while 
engaged at vespers on All-Saints' eve. It is worthy of notice that 
the secretary's letter contains no him of the nonchalance with which 
Philip is said to have heard the tidings. The originalsof these inter- 
esting despatches still exist in the National Library at Madrid. They 
have been copied by Sefior Resell for bis memoir (Ap^nd. Nos. 13, 
ts). One makes little progress in history before finding that it Is 
much easier to repeat an error than to correct it. 



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SNTJrUSIASAf THROUGHOUT CHRISTENDOM. 337 

In a letter from Philip to his brother, dated irom 
the Escorial, the twenty-ninth of November, he writes 
to him out of the fulness of his heart, in the language 
of gratitude and brotherly love : "I cannot express to 
you the joy it has given me to learn the particulara 
of your conduct in the battle, of the great valor you 
showed in your own person, and your watchfulness in 
giving proper directions to others, — all of which has 
doubtless been a principal cause of the victory. So to 
you, after God, I am to make my acknowledgments 
for it, a^ I now do; and happy am I that it has been 
reserved for one so near and so dear to me to perform 
this great work, which has gained such glory for you in 
the eyes of God and of the whole world." " 

The feelings of the king were fully shtred by his sub- 
jects. The enthusiasm roused throughout the country 
by the great victory was without bounds. " There is 
no raan," writes one of the royal secretaries to Don 
John, "who docs not discern the hand of the Lord in 
it ; — though it seems rather like a dream than a reality, 
so far does it transcend any naval encounter that the 
world ever heard of before. ' ' "* The best sculptors and 
painters were employed to perpetuate the memory of 
the glorious event. Among the number was Titian, 
who in the time of Charles the Fifth had passed two 

n "Yansi 4 vos (despues de Dioa) se ha de dar el parabien y las 
graciiu della. como yo os las doy, y i mi de que par mano de persona 
que tanto me loca como la vueslra, y i. quien yo lanlo quiero. se haya 
hecho un lan gtan negocio. y ganado vos lanta honra y gloria, cod 
Dlos y con lodo el mundo." Rosell, Historia del Comhale naval, 
Ap^d. No. 15. 

» Caila del secretario Alzamora d Eton Juan de Austria, Madrid, 
Hov. II, IS7I. ap. Rosell, Historia del Combate naval, Ap*nd, No. 13. 
Miilip.— Vol. Ill,— p 39 



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338 IJ'^^ IVITII THE TUJtJCS. 

years in Sp'ii-, ard who now, when more than ninety 
years of age, executed the great picture of "The Vic- 
tory of the League," still hanging on the walls of the 
Musto at Madrid," The lofty theme proved a fruitful 
source of inspiration to the Castilian muse. Among 
hecatombs of epics and lyrics, the heroic poem of Er- 
cilla" and the sublime eancion of Fernando de Herrera 
perpetuate the memory of the victory of Lepanto in 
forms more durable than canvas or marble, — as im- 
perishable as the language itself. 

While all were thus ready to render homage to the 
talent and bravery which had won the greatest battle 
of the time, men, as they grew cooler and could criti- 
cise events more carefully, were disposed to ask, where 
were the fruits»f this great victory. Had Don John's 
fether, Charles the Fifth, gained such a victory, it was 
said, he would not thus have quitted the field, but, 
before the enemy could recover from the blow, would 
have followed it up by another. Many expressed the 
conviction that the young generalissimo should at once 
have led his navy against Constantinople. 

There would indeed seem to be plausible ground for 
criticising his course after the action. But we must 
remember, in explanation of the conduct of Don John, 
that his situation was altogether different from that of 
his imperial father. He possessed no such absolute 
authority as the latter did over his army. The great 

•9 See Ford, Handbook for Spain, vol. ii. p. 697. 

" Ercilla has devoled the twenly-fouith canto of the Araucana to 
(he splendid episode of the battle of Lepanto. If Ercilla was not, 
Uke Cervantes, present in the fight, his acquaintance with the principal 
acton in it makes bis epic, in addition 10 its poetical merits, of ron- 
(iderable value at historical testimony. 



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JtESULTS OF THE BATTLE. 339 

leaders of the confederates were so nearly equal in 
rank that they each claimed a right to he consulted on 
all measures of importance. The greatest jealousy ex- 
isted among the three commanders, as there did also 
among the troops whom they commanded. They were 
all united, it is true, in their hatred to the Turk. But 
they were all influenced, more or less, by the interests 
of their own states, in determining the quarter where he 
was to be assailed. Every rood of territory wrung from 
the enemy in the Levant would only serve to enlarge 
the domain of Venice; while the conquests in the 
western parts of the Mediterranean would strengthen 
the empire of Castile. This feeling of jealousy between 
the Spaniards and the Venetians was, as we have seen, 
so great in the early part of the expedition as nearly 
to bring ruin on it. 

Those who censured Don John for not directing his 
arms against Constantinople would seem to have had 
but a very inadequate notion of the resources of the 
Porte, — as shown in the course of that very year. 
There is a remaricable letter from the duke of Alva, 
written the month after the battle of Lepanto, in which 
he discusses the best course to be taken in order to 
reap the full fruits of the victory. In it he expresses 
the opinion that an attempt against Constantinople, or 
indeed any part of the Turkish dominions, unless sup- 
ported by a general coalition of the great powers of 
Christendom, must end only in disappointment, — so 
vast were the resources of that great empire." If this 

B The teller, which b dated Bnissels. Nov. 17th, 157I, is addressed 
10 Jnan de Zufliga., Ihe Castilian ambassador ai Ihe court of Rome. 
A copy from a manuscnpl of the aixteeoth centutyt iD the librarjr oJ 



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340 W-<JP WITH THE TURKS. 

were so, — aiid no better judge than Alva could be 
found in military afTairs, — how incompetent were the 
means at Don John's disposal for effecting this object, 
--confederates held together, as the event proved, by 
a rope of sand, and a fleet so much damaged in the 
recent combat that many of the vessels were scarcely 
seaworthy I 

In addition to this, it may be stated that Don John 
knew it was his brother's wish chat the Spanish si|uad- 
ron should return to Sicily to pass the winter." If he 
persisted, therefore, in the campaign, he must do so 
on his own responsibility. He had now accomplished 
the great object for which he had put to sea. He had 
won a victory more complete than the' most sanguine 
of his countrymen had a right to anticipate. To pro- 
long the contest under the present circumstances would 
be in a manner to provoke his fate, to jeopard the 
glory he had already gained, and incur the risk of 
closing the campaign with melancholy cypress, instead 
of the laurel-wreath of victory. Was it surprising that 
even an adventurous spirit like his should have shrunk 
from hazarding so vast a stake with the odds against 
him? 

It is a great error to speak of the victory of Lepanto 
as a barren victory, which yielded no fmils to those 
who fEained it. True, it did not strip the Turks of an 
inch of territory. Even the heayy loss of ships and 

(he duke of Ossuna, is inserted in the L>ocuinenliM InMilo*. lorn. iA. 
pp. 993-303. 

" " Ya havreis entendido l> 6rden que se os ha dado de que inier- 
neli en Medina, y las causas detlo." Carta del Rey i su bennaoOi 
•p. Rosell; Hisloria del Combate naval, Ap^nd. No. 15. 



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KESULTS Of THE BATTLE. 



341 



soldiers which it cost them was repaired in the follow- 
ing year. But the loss of reputation — that tower of 
strength to the conqueror — was not to be estimated. 
The long and successful career of the Ottoman princes, 
especially of the last one, Solyman the Magnificent, 
had made the Turks to be thought invincible. Tliere 
was not a nation in Christendom tliat did not tremble 
at the idea of a war with Turkey. The spell was now 
broken. Though her resources were still boundless, 
she lost confidence in herself, Venice gained con- 
fidence in proportion. When the hostile fleets met in 
the year following the battle of Lepanto, the Turks, 
though greatly the superior in numbers, declined the 
combat. For the seventy years which elapsed after the 
close of the present war, the Turks abandoned their 
efforts to make themselves masters of any of the rich 
possessions of the republic, which lay so temptingly 
around them. When the two nations came next into 
collision, Venice, instead of leaning on confederates, 
took the field single-handed, and disputed it with an 
intrepidity which placed her on a level with the gigan- 
tic power that assailed her. That power was already 
on the wane; and those who have most carefully 
■tudied the history of the Ottoman empire date the 
commencement of her decline from the battle of Le- 



t See Resell, Misloria del Combate naval, p. 157.— Lafuenle, Hi 
toria de Espalla (Madrid, 1850), tom. xiii. p. 538.— Ranke. who h. 
made the histoty of Ihe Ottoman empire his particular study, r 
■narks, "Tbe Turks lost all their old confidence after the battle t 
l,epeato. They hajj no equal 10 oppose lo John of Austria. T! 
day of I,epanio broke down the Ottoman aupremacy," Ottonu 
■ad Spanish Empiies (Eng. trans.), p. 93. 
39» 



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342 



IVAX WITH THE TUFKS. 



The allies should have been ready with their several 
contingents early in the spring of the following year, 
1573. They were not ready till tlie summer was well 
advanced. One cause of delay was the difficulty of 
deciding on what quarter the Turkish empire was to be 
attacked. The Venetians, from an obvious regard to 
their own interests, were for continuing the war in the 
Levant. Philip, on the other hand, from similar mo- 
tives, would have transferred it to the western part of 
the Mediterranean and have undertaken an expedition 
against the Barbary powers. Lastly, Pius the Fifth, 
urged by that fiery enthusiasm which made him over- 
look or overleap every obstacle in his path, would have 
marched on Constantinople and then carried his con- 
quering banners to the Holy Land. These chimerical 
^cies of a crusader provoked a smile — it may have 
been a sneer — from men better instructed in military 
operations than the pontiff.** 

Pius again labored to infuse his own spirit into the 
monarchs of Christendom, But it was in vain that he 
urged them to join the League. All, for some reason 
or other, declined it. It is possible that they may 
have had less fear of the Turk than of augmenting 
the power of the king of Spain. But the great plans 
of Pius the Fifth were terminated by his death, which 
occurred on the first of May, 1572. He was the true 
author of the League. It occupied his thoughts to the 

•< " Su Sanlidad ha de querer que se gane Constaminopla j la Casa 
Santa, y que Wndri muchos que le queirdn adular con fecilitflraelo. y 

J que como su Beatitud no pueden enlender eslas cosas." Carta del 
Duqiie de Alba, ap. Documenios inMilos. torn. iii. p. 300. 



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RESULTS OF THE BATTLE. 343 

latest hour of his existence; and his last act was to 
appropriate to its uses a considerable sum of money 
lying in his coffers.* He may be truly said to have 
been the only one of the confederates who acted solely 
for what he conceived to be the interests of the Faith. 
This soon became apparent. 

The affairs of Philip the Second were at this time in 
a critical situation. He much feared that one of the- 
French faction would be raised to the chair of St. Peter. 
He had great reason to distrust the policy of France in 
respect to the Netherlands. Til! he was more assured 
on these points, he was not inclined to furnish the costly 
armament to which he was pledged as his contingent. 
It was in vain that the allies called on Don John to aid 
them with his Spanish fleet. He had orders from his 
. brother not to quit Messina ; and it was in vain that 
he chafed under these orders, which threatened thus 
prematurely to close the glorious career on which he 
had entered, and which exposed him to the most 
mortifying imputations. It was not till the sixth of 
July that the king allowed him to send a part of his 
contingent, amounting only to twenty-two galleys and 
five thousand troops, to the aid of the confederates. 

Some historians explain the conduct of Philip not 
so much by the embarrassments of his situation as by 
his reluctance to afford his brother the opportunity 
of adding fresh laurels to his brow, and possibly of 
achieving for himself some independent sovereignty, 
like that to which Pius the Fifth had encouraged him 
to aspire. It may be thought some confirmation of 
this opinion — at least it infers some jealousy of hif 

* Ranke, Hbtory of ihe Popes (Eng. Irans.), vol. i. p. 384. 



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344 **''<■* WITH THE TUJIJCS. 

brother's pretensions — that in his despatches to his 
ministers in Italy the king instructed them that, while 
they showed all proper deference to Don John, they 
should be careful not to address him in speech or in 
writing by the title of Highness, but to use that of 
Excellency; adding that they were not to speak of this 
suggestion as coming from him."* He caused a similar 
notice to be given to the ambassadors of France, Ger- 
many, and England. This was but a feeble thread by 
which to check the flight of the young eagle as he waa 
soaring to the clouds. It served to show, however, 
that it was not the will of his master that he should 
soar too high. 

Happily, Philip was relieved from his fears in regard 
to the new pope by the election of Cardinal Buoncam- 
pagno to the vacant throne. This ecclesiastic, who 
took the name of Gregory the Thirteenth, was person- 
ally known to the king, having in earlier life passed 
several years at the court of Castile. He was well 
affected to that court, and he possessed in full measure 
the zeal of his predecessor for carrying on the war ' 
against the Moslems. He lost no time in sending his 
"briefs of fire," "as Don John called them, to rouse 
him to new exertions in the cause. In France, too, 
Philip learned with satisfaction that the Guises, the 
devoted partisans of Spain, had now the direction of 
public affairs. Thus relieved from apprehensions on 
these two quarters, Philip consented to his brother's 
departure with the remainder of his squadron. It 
amounted to fifty-five galleys and thirty smaller vessels. 



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OPEMATIONS IN THE LEVANT. 



345 



But when the prince reached Corfu, on the ninth of 
August, he found that the confederates, tired of wait- 
ing, had already put to sea, under the command of 
Colon na, in search of the Ottoman fleet. 

The Porte had shown such extraordinary despatch 
that in six months it had built and equipped a hundred 
and twenty gallep, malting, with those already on 
hand, a formidable fleet.** It was a remarkable proof 
of its resources, but suggests the idea of the wide 
difference between a Turkish galley of the sixteenth 
century and a man-of-war in our day. The command 
of the armament was given to the Algerine chieftain 
Uluch Ali, who had so adroitly managed to bring off 
the few vessels which effected their escape at the battle 
of Lcpanto. He stood deservedly high in the confi- 
dence of the sultan, and had the supreme direction in 
maritime affairs. 

The two fleets came face to face with each other off 
the western coast of the Morca. But, though the Al- 
gerine commander was much superior to the Christians 
in the number and strength of his vessels, he declined 
an action, showing the same adroitness in eluding a 
battle that he had before shown in escaping from one. 

At the close of August the confederates returned to 
Corfu, where they were reinforced by the rest of the 
Spanish squadron. The combined fleet, with this 
addition, amounted to some two hundred and forty- 

' " E si i Tcdulo, che qnando gli fd data la gran rotta. In sri meal 
ri&bbricA cento venti galere. oltre quelle che si trovavano in essere, 
cosa che eraendo prevednta e scritta da me, fU giudicala pluttosto Im- 
possibile che creduta," Reta^one dl Maicantino Baiinro, 1573, Al- 
bcyi, Relaiioni Venete, lum, iii, p. 306. 



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346 WAR WITH THE TURJCS. 

seven vessels, of which nearly two-thirds were galleys. 
It was a force somewhat superior to that of the enemy. 
Thus strengtliened, Don John, unfurling the consecrated 
banner as generalissimo of the League, weighed anchor, 
.and steered with his whole fleet in a southerly direction. 
It was not long before he appeared off the harbors of 
Modon and Navarino, where the two divisions of the 
Turkish armada were lying at anchor. He would have 
attacked them separately, but, notwithstanding his 
efforts, failed to prevent their effecting a junction in 
the harbor of Modon. On the seventh of October, 
■Uluch All ventured out of port and seemed disposed 
to give battle. It was the anniversary of the fight of 
Lepanto ; and Don John flattered himself that he 
should again see his arms crowned with victory, as on 
that memorable day. But if the Turkish commander 
was unwilling to fight the confederates when he was 
superior to them in numbers, it was not likely that he 
would fight them now that he was inferior. After some 
manceuvres which led to no result, he took refuge under 
the castle of Modon, and again retreated into port. 
There Don John would have followed him, with the 
design of forcing him to a battle. But from this he 
■was dissuaded by the other leaders of the confederates, 
who considered that the chances of success in a place 
so strongly defended by no means warranted the risk. 

It was in vain that the allies prolonged their stay in 
the neighborhood, with the hope of enticing the enemy 
to an engagement. The season wore away with no 
prospect of a better result. Meantime, provisions were 
failing, the stormy weather of autumn was drawing nigh, 
and Don John, disgusted with what he regarded as the 



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OPERATIONS I.V THE LEVANT. 



347 



timid counsels of his associates, and with the control 
which they were permitted to exercise over him, de- 
cided, as it was now too late for any new enterprise, to 
break up and postpone further action till the following 
spring, when he hoped to enter on the campaign at an 
earlier day than he had done this year. The allies, 
accordingly, on reaching the island of Paxo, late in 
October, parted from each other, and withdrew to 
their respective winter-quarters. Don John, tUth the 
Spanish armament, returned to Sicily.'* 

The pope and the king of Spain, nowise discouraged 
by the results of the campaign, resolved to resume oper- 
ations early in the spring on a still more formidable 
scale than before. But their intentions were defeated by 
the startling intelligence that Venice had entered into 
a separate treaty with the Porte. The treaty, which 
was negotiated, it is said, through the intervention of 
the French ambassador, was executed on the seventh of 
March, 1573. The terms seemed somewhat extraordi- 
nary, considering the relative positions of the parties. 
By the two principal articles, the republic agreed to pay 
the annual sum of one hundred thousand ducats for 
three years to the sultan, and to cede the island of 
Cyprus, the original cause of the war. One might 
suppose it was the Turks, and not the Christians, who 
had won the battle of Lepanto.'" 

Venice was a commercial state, and doubtless had 

t For the preceding pages see Torres y Aguilera. Chronica, to). 
87-89, — Cabrera., Filipe Segundo, lib. i. cap. s, — Vanderhajninen. 
Don Juan de Ausiria, fol. 159, el seq„ — Paruta, Guerra di Cipro, 
p. ao6, el seq., — Sagredo, Monarcas OtIiDinanos, pp. 301, 30a. 

3° It is Volla;re's reflecnon : " 11 semblait que les Turques eusseal 
gagn6 la baloiUe de l>pante." Essais surles Monirs, chap, ifia 



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348 »^^ WITH THE TURKS. 

roorc to gain from peace than from any war, howevei 
well conducted. In this point of view, even such a 
treaty may have been politic with so formidable an 
enemy. But a nation's interests, in the long ran, 
cannot, any more than those of an individual, be 
divorced from its honor. And what could be more 
dishonorable than for a state secretly to make tenns 
for herself with the enemy, and desert the allies who 
had cdme into the war at her solicitation and in her 
defence? Such conduct, indeed, was too much in 
harmony with the past history of Venice, and justified 
the reputation for bad faith which had made the Eu- 
ropean nations so reluctant to enter into the League.'* 
The tidings were received by Philip with bis usual 
composure. " If Venice," he said, "thinks she con- 
sults her own interests by such a proceeding, I can 
traly say that in what I have done I have endeavored 
to consult both her interests and those of Christen- 
dom." He, however, spoke his mind more plainly 
afterwards to the Venetian ambassador. The pope 
gave free vent to his feelings in the consistory, where 
he denounced the conduct of Venice in the most bitter 
and contemptuous terms. When the republic sent a 
special envoy to deprecate his anger and to excuse 
herself by the embarrassments of her situation, the 
pontiff refused to see him. t>on John would not be- 
lieve in the defection of Venice when the tidings were 
first announced to him. When he was advised of it by 
a direct communication from her government, he re- 
plied by indignantly commanding the great standard 

n Oumonl, Coiju diplomatique, torn 



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CONQUEST OF TUNIS. 349 

• of the League to be torn down from his galley and in 
its place to be unfurled the banner of Castile," 

Such was the end of the Holy League, on which 
Pius the Fifth had so fully relied for the conquest of 
Constantinople and the recovery of Palestine. Philip 
could now transfer the war to the quarter he had pre- 
ferred. He resolved, accordingly, to send an expedi 
tion to the fiarbary coast. Tunis was selected as the 
place of attack, — a thriving city and the home of many 
« corsair who preyed on the commerce of the Medi- 
terranean. It had been taken by Charles the Fifth in 
the memorable campaign of 1535, but had since been 
recovered by the Moslems. The Spaniards, however, 
still retained possession of the strong fortress of the 
Goletta, which overlooked the approaches to Tunis. 

In the latter part of September, 1574, Don John left 
the shores of Sicily at the head of a fleet consisting of 
about a hundred galleys and nearly as many smaller 
vessels. The number of his troops amounted to not 
less than twenty thousand." The story of the cam- 
paign is a short one. Most of the inhabitants of Tunis 
fled from the city. The few who remained did not 
care to bring the war on their heads by offering resist- 
ance to the Spaniards. Don John, without so much as 
firing a shot, marched in at the head of his battalions, 
through gates flung open to receive him. He found an 
ample booty awaiting him, — near fifty pieces of artil- 
lery, with ammunition and military stores, large quan- 
tities of grain, cotton and woollen cloths, rich silks and 

)• Rosell, H[s(oria del Combale navnl. p. 149.— <;abrera. Filipt 
Sfuado. p. 747. — Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 95. 
»• Vanderbammen, Don Juan de Austria, fcJ. 17a. 
Fbilip.~Voi. IIL 30 



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5SO 



miJl WITH THE TURKS. 



brocades, with various other kinds of costly merchan- 
dise. The troops spent more than a week in sacking 
the place,** They gained, in short, every thing — but 
glory; for little glory was to be gained where there 
were no obstacles to be overcome. 

Don John gave orders that no injury should be 
offered to the persons of the inhabitants. He forbade 
that any should be made slaves. By a proclamation, 
he invited all to return to their dwellings, under the 
assurance of his protection. In one particular his con- 
duct was remarkable. Philip, disgusted with the ex- 
penses to which the maintenance of the castle of the 
Goletta annually subjected him, had recommended, if, 
not positively directed, his brother to dismantle the 
place and to demolish in like manner the fortifications 
of Tunis,* Instead of heeding these instructions, Don 

M Cabrera. Fllipe Segundo, p. 765.— Vanderhammen, Don Juan de 
Auslria, fol. 174. 175. — Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 103, el seq. 
— The author lasl cited, who was present at the capture of Tunis, 
gives a fearful picture of the rapacity of the soldiers. 

SiThe Caatilian writers generally speak of il as the piranptory 
ctmiHoiui of Philip. Cabrera, one of the best authorities, lells us, 
" Mand6 el Rey (itolico a don Juan de Austria enplear su armada 
en la conquista de Tunet. i que le desmanlelase, i la Goleia." But 
loon after he remarks. "Olvidando el Sutn acatrdo del Rey, por 
consejo de lisongeros determinA de conservar la'ciudad." (Filipe 
Segundo, pp. 763, 764. ) From this qualified langu^e we may infer 
that the king meant to give his brother his decided opinion, not 
amounting, however, 10 such an absolute command as would leave 
him no power to exercise his discretion in the matter. This last view 
is made the more probable by the &cl Ihat in the following spring a 
correspondence took place between the king and his brother, in which 
the former, after staling (he arguments both Ibr preserving and lor 
dlimantling the fortress of Tunis, concludes by referring the deci^oik 
of the question to Don John himself: " Represenladas todai estai 



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CONQUEST OF TUmS. 351 

John no sooner saw himself in possession of the capital 
than he commanded the Goletta to be thoroughly re- 
paired, and at the same lime provided for the erection 
of a strong fortress in the city. This work he committed 
to an Italian engineer, named Cerbelloni, a knight of 
Malta, with whom he left eight thousand soldiers, to 
be employed in the construction of the fort, and to 
fiimish him with a garrison to defend it, 

Don John, it is said, had been urged to take this 
course by his secretary, Juan de Soto, a man of ability, . 
but of an intriguing temper, who fostered in his master 
those ambitious projects which had been encouraged, 
as we have seen, by Pius the Fifth. No more eHgible 
spot seemed likely to present itself for the seat of his 
dominion than Tunis, — a flourishing capital surrounded 
by a well-peopled and fruitful territory. Philip had 
been warned of the unwholesome influence exerted by 
De Soto ; and he now sought to remove him from the 
person of his brother by giving him a distinct position 
in the army, and by sending another to replace him in 
his post of secretary. The person thus sent was Juan 
de Escovedo. But it was soon found that the influence 
which Escovedo acquired over the young prince was 
both greater and more mischievous than that of his pre- 
decessor ; and the troubles that grew out of this new inti- 
macy were destined, as we shall f;ee hereafter, to form 
some of the darkest pages in the history of the times. 

Having provided for the security of his new acqui- 
sition, and received, moreover, the voluntary submis- 
sion of the neighboring town of Biserta, the Spanish 
dificultadea, manda remitir S. M. a1 Selior Don Juan que ^^ tome la 
resolucion que moa convenea." EtocuraeDlos inMitos, lom. iii. p. 139, 



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J5« 



WAK WITH THE TURKS. 



commander leturned with his fleet to Sicily. He 
Unded at Palermo, amidst the roariog of cannon, the 
thouts of the populace, and the usual rejoicings that 
uinounce the return of the victorious commander. He 
did not, however, prolong his stay in Sicily. After 
dismissing his fleet, he proceeded to Naples, where he 
landed about the middle of November. He proposed 
to pass the winter in this capital, where the delicious 
climate and the beauty of the women, says a contem- 
porary chronicler, had the attraction^ for him that 
belonged naturally to his age.* His partiality for 
Naples was amply requited by the inhabitants,^-espe- 
cially that lovelier portion of them whose smiles were 
the well-prized guerdon of the soldier. If his brilliant 
exterior and the charm of his society had excited their 
admiration when he first aiq>eared among them as an 
adventurer in the path of honor, how much was this 
admiration likely to be increased when he returned 
with the halo of glory beaming around his brow, as 
the successful champion of Christendom t 

The days of John of Austria glided merrily along in 
the gay capital of Southern Italy. But we should wrong 
him did we suppose that all his hours were passed in 
idle dalliance. A portion of each day, on the contrary, 
was set apart for study. Another part was given to the 
despatch of business. When he went abroad, he af- 
fected the society of men distinguished for their science, 
or still more for their knowledge of public affairs. In 
his intercourse with these persons he showed dignity 

* " Porque la g«ntileia de la dcm 1 de las damas en su cooservs- 
doa ocradaba a EU gallarda edad." Cabreia, Filipe Secuodo, p. 75^ 
■ -AIM VauderhanuueD, Don Juan de Auitria, fbt. 176. 



^cb, Google 



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RETAKEN BY TMR TURKS. , 353 

of demeanor tempered by courtesy, while his conversa- 
tion revealed those lofty aspirations which proved that 
his thoughts were fixed on a higher eminence than any 
he had yet reached. It was clear to every observer 
that ambition was the moving principle of his actions, 
— the passion to which every other passion, even the 
love of pleasure, was wholly subordinate. 

In the midst of the gayeties of Naples his thoughts 
were intent on the best means of securing his African 
empire. He despatched his secretary, Escovedo, to the 
pope, to solicit his good offices with Philip. Gregory 
entertained the same friendly feelings for Don John 
which his predecessor had shown, and he good-na- 
turedly acquiesced in his petition. He directed his 
nuncio at the Castilian court to do all in his power to 
promote the suit of the young chief, and to assure the 
king that nothing could be more gratifying to the head 
of the Church than to see so worthy a recompense 
bestowed on one who had rendered such signal services 
to Christendom. Philip received the communication 
in the most gracious manner. He was grateful, he 
said, for the interest which the pope condescended to 
take in the fortunes of Don John ; and nothing, cer- 
tainly, would be more agreeable to his own feelings 
than to have the power to reward his brother according 
to his deserts. But to take any steps at present in the 
matter would be premature. He had received informa- 
tion that the sultan was making extensive preparations 
for the recovery of Tunis. Before giving it away, there- 
fore, it would be well to see to whom it belonged." 

V Ferreru, Hial. d'Espagne, torn. x. p. a8&— Vandcrbammen, Don 
Inan ile AustriB, fbl. t/S. 



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J54 f^X IVlTff THE TURKS. 

Philip's iBformation was correct. No sooner had 
Selim learned the fate of the Barbary capital than he 
made prodigious efforts for driving the Spaniards from 
their conquests. He assembled a powerfiil armament, 
which he placed under the command, of Uluch Ali. 
As lord of Algiers, that chief had a jrarticular interest 
ill preventing any Christian power from planting its 
foot in the neighborhood of his own dominions. Th? 
command of the land-forces was given to Sinan Pasha, 
Selim's son-in-law. 

Early in July the Ottoman fleet arrived off the Bar- 
bary coast. Tunis offered as little resistance to the 
arms of the Moslems as it had before done to those of 
the Christians. That city had been so often transferred 
from one master to another that it seemed almost a 
matter of indifference to the inhabitants to whom it 
belonged. But the Turks found it a more difficult 
matter to reduce the castle of the GoJetta and the fort 
raised by the brave engineer Cerbelloni, now well 
advanced, though not entirely completed. It was not 
till the middle of September, after an incredible waste 
of life on the part of the assailants, and the extermi- 
nation of nearly, the whole of the Spanish garrisons, 
that both the fortresses surrendered.* 

No sooner was he in possession of them than tbt 
Turkish commander did that which Philip had in vain 
wished his biother to do. He razed to the ground the 

■f Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. Ii6, el Beq.— Relacion particu- 
lar d^ Don Juan Sanogera. MS,— Vanderhammen slates the loss of 
ihe Moslems at Ihirtj-Ihree thousand sLiin. (Don Juan de Ausin*. 
Ibl. tS?.) But the arilhmetic o[ tbe Castilian is litUe (o be tnuted M 
regards tbe infidel. 



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RETAKEN BY THE TURKS. 



35S 



foi tress of the Goletta, Thus ended the campaign, in 
which Sj>ain, besides her recent conquests, saw herself 
stripped of the strong castle which had defied every 
assault of the Moslems since the time of Charles the 
Fifth. 

One may naturally ask. Where was John of Austria 
all this time? He had not been idle, nor had he 
remained an indifferent spectator of the loss of the 
place he had so gallantly won for Spain. But when he 
first received tidings of the presence of a Turkish fleet 
before Tunis he was absent on a mission to Genoa, or 
rather to its neighborhood. That republic was at this 
time torn by factions so fierce that it was on the brink 
of a civil war. The mischief threatened to extend 
even more widely, as the neighboring powers, especially 
France and Savoy, prepared to take part in the quarrel, 
in hopes of establishing their own authority in the state. 
At length Philip, who had inherited from his father the 
somewhat ill-defined title of "Protector of Genoa," 
was compelled to interpose in the dispute. It was on 
this mission that Don John was sent, to watch more 
nearly the rival factions. It was not till af^er this 
domestic broil had lasted for several months that the 
prudent policy of the Spanish monarch succeeded in 
reconciling the hostile parties and thus securing the 
republic from the horrors of a civil war. He reaped 
the gO()d fruits of his temperate conduct in the main- 
tenance of his own authority in the counsels of the 
republic, thus binding to himself an ally whose navy, 
in time of war, served greatly to strengthen his mari- 
time resources." 

» For a brief but very penpic'.ioua view of the troubles of Genoa, 



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55« 'K<^ WITH THE TUSKS. 

While detained on this delicate mission, Don Juhn 
did what he could for Tunis, by urging the viceroys 
of Sicily and Naples to send immediate aid to the 
beleaguered garrisons.* But these functionaries seem 
to have been more interested in the feuds of Genoa 
than in the fate of the African colony. Granvelle, 
who presided over Naples, was even said to be so 
jealous of the rising fame of John of Austria as not 
to be unwilling that his lofty pretensions should be 
somewhat humbled." The supplies sent were wholly 
unequal to the exigency. 

Don John, impatient of the delay, as soon as he could 
extricate himself from the troubles of Genoa, sailed for 
Naples, and thence speedily crossed to Sicily. He there 
made every effort to assemble an armament, of which 
he prepared, in spite of the remonstrances of his friends, 
to take the command in person. But nature, no less 
than man, was against him. A tempest scattered his 
Reet ; and when he had reassembled it, and fairly put 
to sea, he was baffled by contrary winds, and, talcing 
refuge in the neighboring port of Trapani, was detained 
■ee San Miguel, Hist, de Filipe Segundo (lom, ii. cap. 36). The 
care of (his judicious wriler to atquaiut the reader with conlempoiary 
events In other countries, as thejr bore more or less directly on Spain, 
is a characlerisHc merit of his history. 

* Torres y Aguilera, Chronica, fol. 1 13. 

41 The principal cau5e of Granvelle's coldness ta Don John, at wt 
are told by Cabrera (Filipe Segundo, p. 794), echoed, as usual, by 
Vanderhammen (Don Juan de Austria, fol. 184), was envy of tho 
fame which the hero of Lepanto had gained by his conquests both in 
love and in war ; " La causa principal era el poeo gusto que tenia de 
acudir a don Juan, invidioso de sus &vores de Marte i Venus." 
Considering the cardinal's profession, he would seem to have had na 
li^t (D envy any one's success in either of these fields. * 



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RETAKEN BY THE TURKS. 



Z%1 



there until tidings reached him of the fall of Tunis. 
They fell heavily on his ear. For they announced to 
him that all his bright visions of an African empire 
had vanished, like the airy fabric of an Eastern tale. 
All that remained was the consciousness that he had 
displeased his brother by his scheme of an independent 
sovereignty and by his omission to raze the fortress 
of the Golelta, the unavailing defence of which had 
cost the lives of so many of his brave countrymen. 

But Don John, however chagrined by the tidings, 
was of too elastic a temper to yield to despondency. 
He was a knight-errant in the true sense of the terra. 
He still clung as fondly as ever to the hope of one 
day carving out with his good sword an independent 
dominion for himself. His first step, he considered, 
was to make his peace with his brother. Though not 
summoned thither, he resolved to return at once to the 
Castilian court, — for in that direction, he felt, lay the 
true road to preferment. 



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CHAPTER I. 

DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

UMraal Adminliriation of Spain. — Absolute Power ofjhe CrMgLs- 
Royal Conncils. — Alva and Ruy Gomel. — Es£inci5a.7T-Pei5onal 
Hab|t»^^J^inp.— Court and Nobles.— The Cones."— The Guardi 
oC Ciutite. ■ 

Seventeen years had now elapsed since Philip the 
Second ascended the throne of his ancestors, — a period 
long enough to disclose the policy of his government, 
longer, indeed, than that of the entire leigns of some 
of his predecessois. In the previous portions of this 
Tork the reader has been chiefly occupied with the 
foreign relations of Spain, and with military details. 
It is now time to pause, and, before plunging anew into 
the stormy scenes of the Netherlands, to consider the 
internal administration of the country and the charac- 
ter and policy of the monarch who presided over it. 

The most important epoch in Castilian history since 
the great Saracen invasion in the eighth century is the 
reign of Ferdinand and Isabella, when anarchy was 
succeeded by law, and from the elements of chaos arose 
that beautiful fabric of order and constitutional liberty 
which promised a new era for the nation. In the 
(3S8) 



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INTERNAL ADMINISTRATION OF SPAIN. 



359 



assertion of her rights, Isabella, to whom this revolu- 
tion is chiefly to be attributed, was obliged to rely on 
the support of the people. It was natural that she 
should requite their services by aiding them in the 
recovery of their own rights, — especially of those 
which had been usurped by the rapacious nobles. 
Indeed, it was the obvious policy of the crown to 
humble the pride of the aristocracy and abate their 
arrogant pretensions. In this it was so well supported 
by the commons that the scheme perfectly succeeded. 
By the depression of the privileged classes and the ele- 
vation of the people, the different orders, were brought 
more strictly within their constitutional limits ; and 
the state made a nearer approach to a well-balanced 
limited monarchy than at any previous period of its 
history. 

This auspicious revolution was soon, alas! to be fol- 
lowed by another, of a most disastrous kind, Charles 
the Fifth, who succeeded his grandfather Ferdinand, 
was born a foreigner, — and a foreigner he remained 
through his whole life. He was a stranger to the 
feelings and habits of the Spaniards, had little re- 
spect for their institutions, and as little love for the 
nation. He continued to live mostly abroad ; was 
occupied with foreign enterprises; and the only people 
whom he really loved were those of the Netherlands, 
his native land. The Spaniards requited these feelings 
of indifference in full measure. They felt that the glory 
of the imperial name shed no lustre upon them. Thus 
estranged at heart, they were easily provoked to insur- 
rection by his violation of their rights. The insurrec- 
tion was a failure ; and the blow which crushed the 



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36o DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAm. 

insurgents on the plains of Villalar deprived them 
forever of the few liberties which they had been per- 
mitted to retain. They were excluded from all shirc 
in the government, and were henceforth summoned to 
the cortcs only to swear allegiance to the heir-apparent 
or to furnish subsidies for their master. They were 
indeed allowed to lay their grievances before the 
throne. But they had no means of enforcing redress ; 
for, with the cunning policy of a despot, Charles would 
not receive their petitions until they had first voted the 
supplies. 

The nobles, who had stood by their master in the 
struggle, fared no better. They found too late how 
short-sighted was the policy which had led them to put 
their faith in princes. Henceforth they could not be 
said to form a necessary part of the legislature. For, 
as they insisted on their right to be excused from bear- 
ing any share in the burdens of the state, they could 
take no part in voting the supplies; and, as this was 
almost the only purpose for which the cortes was con- 
vened, their presence was no longer required in it. 
Instead of the powers which were left to them un- 
touched by Ferdinand and Isabella, they were now 
amused with high-sounding and empty titles, or with 
offices about the person of the monarch. In this way 
they gradually sank into the unsubstantial though glit- 
tering pageant of a court. Meanwhile, the government 
of Castile, assuming the powers of both making the laws 
and enforcing their execution, became in its essentia] 
attributes nearly as absolute as that of Turkey. 

Such was the gigantic despotism which, on the death 
of Charles, passed into the hands of Philip the Second. 



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ABSOLUTE POWER OF THE CROWN. 361 

The son had many qualities in common with his father. 
But among these was not that restless ambition of for- 
eign conquest which was ever goading die emperor. 
Nor was he, like his father, urged by the love of glory 
to military achievement. He was of too sluggish a 
nature to embark readily in great enterprises. He was 
capable of much labor ; but it was of that sedentary 
kind which belongs to the cabinet rather than the 
camp. His tendencies were naturally pacific ; and up 
to the period at which we are now arrived he had en- 
gaged in no wars but those into which he had been 
drawn by the revolt of his vassals, as in the Nether- 
lands and Granada, or those forced on him by circum* 
stances beyond his control. Such was the war which 
he had carried on with the pope and the French mon- 
archy at the beginning of his reign. 

But, while less ambitious than Charles of foreign 
acquisitions, Philip was full as tenacious of the posses- 
sions and power which had come to him by inherit- 
ance. Nor was it likely that the regal prerogative 
would suffer any diminution in his reign, or that the 
nobles or commons would be allowed to retrieve any 
of the immunities which they had lost under his prede- 



Phil i pjin d erst ood the character_of his. gjiuitrxmeB 
better than his father had done. A Spaniard by birth, 
he was, as I have more than once had occasion to re- 
mark, a Spaniard in his whole nature. His tastes, his 
habits, his prejudices, were all Spanish. His policy 
was directed solely to the aggrandizement of Spain, 
The distant races whom he governed were all strangers 
to him. With a few exceptions, Spaniards were the 
Philip.— Vol. III.— q 31 



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36j DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

only persons he placed in offices of trust. His Cas - 
tilian countrymen saw with pride and in'* '''•"'''"" that 
they had a native prince Ott the throne-, w h o iden tifa'd 
his own interests with theirs. They contrasted this 
conduct with that of his father, and requited it with a 
devotion such as they had shown to few of his prede- 
cessors. They not only held him in reverence, says 
the Venetian minister, Contarini, but respected his 
laws, as something sacred and inviolable.' It was the 
people of the Netherlands who rose np against him. 
For similar reasons it fared just the opposite with 
Charles. His Flemish coUDtrymen remaned loyal to 
the last. It was his Castilian subjects who were driven 
to rebellion . 

Though tenacious of power, Philip had not the se- 
cret consciousness of strength which enabled his father, 
unaided as it were, to bear up so long under the burden 
of empire. The habitual caution of the son made him 
averse to taking any step of importance without first 
ascertaining the opinions of others. Yet he was not 
willing, like his ancestor the good Queen Isabella, to 
invoke the co-operation of the cortes, and thus awaken 
the consciousness of power in an arm of the govern- 
ment which had been so long smitten with paralysis. 
Such an expedient was fraught with too much danger. 
He found a substitute in the several councils, the 
membere of which, appointed by the crown and re- 
movable at its pleasure, were pledged to the support 
of the prerogative. 

Under Ferdinand and Isabella there had been a 



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POYAL COUNCILS. 563 

complete reorganization of these councils. Their num- 
ber was increased under Charles the Fifth, to suit the 
increased extent of the empire. It was still further 
enlarged by Philip.* Under him there were no less 
than eleven councils, among which may be particularly 
noticed those of war, of finance, of justice, and of 
state.' Of these various bodies the council of state, 
charged with the most important concerns of the mon- 
archy, was held in highest consideration. The number 
of its members varied. At the time of which I am 
writing, it amounted to sixteen.* But the weight of the 
business devolved on less than half that number. It 
was composed of both ecclesiastics and laymen. Among 
the latter were some eminent jurists. A sprinkling of 
men of the robe, indeed, was to be found in most of 
the councils. Philip imitated in this the policy of 
Ferdinand and Isabella, who thus intended to humble 
the pride of the great lords, and to provide themselves 
with a loyal militia, whose services would be of no 
little advantage in maintaining the prerogative. 

Among the members of the council of state, two 
may be particularly noticed for their pre-eminence in 
that body. These were the duke of Alva and Ruy 
Gomez de Silva, prince of Eboli. With the former 
the reader is well acquainted. His great talents, his 

» A manuscripl, enlitled " Origin dt lot Consejos." wilhoul date Oi 
the name of the author, in Ihe library of Sir Thomas PhiUips, gives a 
minute account of the various councils under Philip tlie Second. 

i " Sono XI 1 i1 consiglio dell' Indie, Castiglia. d' Aragona, d' inqui- 
titione, di camera. <lell' ordini, di guetra. di hmiienda, di giustiiia, 
d' Italia, et di siato." Sommario del' ordine the si tiene alia curte 
di Spagna circa il govemo delli stati del Ri Catholico, MS. 

* Ibid. The dale of this manuscripl is 157a. 



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564 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

ample experience both in civil and military life, hia 
iron will and the fearlessness with which he asserted 
it, even his stem and overbearing manner, which 
■eemed to proclaim bis own superiority, all marked 
him out as the leader of a party. 

The emperor appears to have feared the ascendency 
«4uch Alva might one day acquire over PhJUp. "The 
duke," wrote Charles to his son in a letter before 
cited, " is the ablest statesman and the best soldier I 
have in my dominions. Consult him, above all, in 
military al^rs. Bat do not depend on him entirely 
in these or any other matters. Depend on no one but 
yourself." The advice was good ; and Philip did not 
foil to profit by it. Though always seeking the opin- 
ions of others, it was the better to form his own. He 
was too jealous of power to submit to the control, even 
to the guidance, of another. With all his deference 
to Alva, on whose services he set the greatest value, 
the king seems to have shown him but little of that 
personal attachment which he evinced for his rival, 
Ruy GomcE. 

This nobleman was descended from an ancient house 
in Portugal, a branch of which had been transplanted 
to Castile. He had been early received as a page in 
the imperial household, where, though he was several 
years older than Philip, his amiable temper, his en- 
gaging manners, and, above all, that tact which made 
hb fortune in later life, soon rendered him the prince's 
favorite. An anecdote is reported of him at this time, 
which, however difficult to credit, rests on respectable 
auihority. While engaged in their sports, the page 
icfidentally struck the prince. The emperor, greatly 



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aL VA and RUY GOMEZ. 365 

incensed, and conceiving that such an indignity to the 
heir-apparent was to be effaced only by the blood of 
the offender, condemned the unhappy youth to lose 
his life. The tears and entreaties of Philip at length 
so far softened the heart of his father that he consented 
to commute the punishment of death for exile. In- 
deed, it is hard to believe that Charles had ever really 
intended to carry his cruel sentence into execution. 
The exile was of no long duration. The society of 
Gomez had become indispensable to the prince, who, 
pining under the separation, at length prevailed on his 
father to recall the young noble and reinstate him in 
his former situation in the palace.' 

The regard of Philip, who was not of a fickle dispo- 
sition, seemed to increase with years. We find Ruy 
Gomez one of the brilliant suite who accompanied him 
to London on his visit there to wed the English queen. 
After the emperor's abdication, Ruy Gomez continued 
to occupy a distinguished place in Philip's household, 
as first gentleman of the bedchamber. By virtue of 
this office he was required to attend his master both at 
his rising and his going to rest. His situation gave him 
ready access at ^1 hours to the royal person. It was 
soon understood that there was no one in the court who 
exercised a more important influence over the mon- 
arch ; and he naturally became the channel through 
which applicants for favors sought to prefer their 
petitions.* 

) ReUziODe d< Badoer, MS. 

* Instead of " Ruy Gomei," Badoer tells us they punningi/ gave 
him the title of " Key Gomei," lo denote his influence over the king : 
" 11 titolo princi) al che gli vien dato i di Rey Gomez e non Ru) 



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366 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

Meanwhile, the most substantial honors were liberally 
bestowed on him. He was created duke of Pastrafia, 
with an income of twenty-five thousand crowns, — a 
large revenue, considering the value of money in that 
day. The title of PastraBa was subsequently merged 
in that of Eboli, by which he has continued to be 
known. It was derived from his marriage with the 
princess of Eboli, Anna de Mendoza, a lady much 
younger than he, and, though blind of one eye, cele- 
brated for her beauty no less than her wit. She was 
yet more celebrated for her gallantries, and for the 
tragic results to which they led, — a subject closely 
connected with the personal history of Philip, to 
which I shall return hereafter. 

Among his other dignities Ruy Gomez was made a 
member of the council of state, in which body he ex- 
ercised an influence not inferior, to say the least of it, 
to that of any of his associates. His head was not 
turned by his prosperity. He did not, like many a 
favorite before him, display his full-blown fortunes in 
the eye of the world ; nor, though he maintained a 
state suited to his station, did he, like Wolsey, excite 
the jealousy of his master by a magnificence in his 
way of living that eclipsed the splendors of royalty. 
Far from showing arrogance to his inferiors, he was 
affable to all, did what he could to serve their inter- 
ests with the king, and magnanimously spoke of his 
rivals in terms of praise. By this way of proceeding 
he enjoyed the good fortune, rare for a favorite, of 

Gomel, perchi pare che non sia stal 
del mondo di innta autorili e cost st 
da qucsta Maraik," Relatione, MS 



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ALKl AND RUY GOMEZ. 367 

being both caressed by his sovereign and beloved by 
the people.' 

There is no evidence that Ruy Gomez had the moral 
courage to resist the evil tendency of Philip's policy, 
still less that he ventured to open the monarch's eyes 
to his errors. He had too keen a regard to his own 
interests to attempt this. He may have thought, prob- 
ably with some reason, that such a course would avail 
little with the king, and would bring ruin on himself. 
His life was passed in the atmosphere of a court, and 
he had imbibed its selfish spirit. He had profoundly 
studied the character of his master, and he a 
dated himself to all his humors with an obsequio 
which does little honor to his memory. The duke 
of Alva, who hated him with all the hatred of a rival, 
speaking of him after his death, remarked, "Ruy 
Gomez, though not the greatest statesman that ever 
lived, was such a master in the knowledge of the 
humors and dispositions of kings, that we were all of 
us fools in comparison."' 

Yet the influence of the favorite was, on the whole, 
good. He was humane and liberal in his temper, and 
inclined to peace, — virtues which were not too common 

1 C^rera, Filip* Segundo, pp. 71a, 713. — Cabrera has given us, in 
the flrsl chapler oC the lejith book of his history, a finished portrait 
of Ruy Gomel, which for ihe niceness of its discnminaiion and the 
fiilicity of its language may compare with the best lomposiiions of 
the Castilian chroniclers. 

' " El seSor Ruy Gomel no fu< de los mayores consejeros que ha 
habido. pero del humor y natural de los reyes le reconoico por lan 
gran maestro, que lodos los que pot aqui dentro andamos tenemm la 
cabeia donde pensamos que iraemos los pies." Beimudei dc Castra 
Atilonio Perei (Madrid, 1S41;, p. zg. 



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368 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

in that iron age, and which in the council served much 
to counteract the stem policy of Alva. Persons of a 
generous nature ranged themselves under him as their 
leader. When John of Austria came to court, his 
liberal spirit prompted him at once to lean on Ruy 
Gomez as his friend and counsellor. The correspond- 
ence which passed between them when the young sol- 
dier was on his campaigns, in which he addressed the 
favorite by the epithet of "father," confessing his 
errors to him and soliciting his advice, is honorable 
to both. 

The historian Cabrera, who had of^en seen him, 
sums up the character of Ruy Gomez by saying, " He 
was the first pilot who in these stormy seas both lived 
anddiedsecure, always contriving to gain a safe port."' 
His death took place in July, 1573- " Living," adds 
the writer, in his peculiar style, "he preserved the 
favor of his sovereign. Dead, he was mourned by him, 
— and by the whole nation, which kept him in its recol- 
lection as the pattern of loyal vassals and prudent 
fovorites."" 

Besides the two leaders in the council, there were 
two others who deserve to be noticed. One of these 
was Figuerua, count, afterwards created by Philip duke, 
of Feria, a grandee of Spain. He was one of those 
who accompanied the king on his iitst visit to England. 

• " Fue Rui Oomez el primero pllolo que en (rabajos tan f;randes 
Tlvift y murifi seguro. tomando sienpre el mejor puerlo." Cabrera, 
Fllipe S^undo, p. 713. 

" '■ Vivo conservi la grada de su Rey, mueno le dolid su &lta, I 
la llord su Rcyno, que en su memoria le & conservado para cxemplo 
de fieles vasallos i prudenies privadoa de io» mayores Principe*.' 
Ibid., ubi lupra. 



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ESPfNOSA. 369 

He there married a lady of rank, and, as the reader 
may remember, afterwards represented his master at the 
court of Elizabeth, He was a man of excellent parts, 
enriched by that kind of practical knowledge which 
he had gained from foreign travel and a familiarity 
with courts. He lived magnificently, somewhat en- 
riimbering his large estates, indeed, by his profusion. 
His person was handsome ; and his courteous and pol- 
ished manners made him one of the most brilliant 
ornaments of the royal circle.. He had a truly chival 
rous sense of honor, and was greatly esteemed by the 
king, who placed him near his person as captain of his 
Spanish guard. Feria was a warm supporter of Ruy 
Gomez ; and the long friendship that subsisted between 
the two nobles seems never to have been clouded by 
those feelings of envy and jealousy which so often 
arise between rivals contending for the smiles of their 
sovereign. 

The other member of the council of state was a per- 
son of still more importance. This was the Cardinal 
E^pinosa, who, though an ecclesiastic, possessed such 
ai\ acquaintance with affairs as belonged to few laymen. 
Philip's eye readily discovered his uncommon qualities, 
and he heaped upon him offices in rapid succession, any 
one of which might well have engrossed his time. But 
Espinosa was as fond of labor as most men are of ease ; 
and in every situation he not only performed his own 
share of the work, but very of^en that of his associates. 
He was made president of the council of Castile, as 
well as of that of the Indies, and finally a member of 
the council of state. He was inquisitor-general, sat in 
the royal chancery of Seville, and held the bishopric 



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370 



DOMESTIC AFFAIKS OF SPAIN. 



of Siguenza, one of the richest sees in the kingdom. 
To crown the whole, in 1568, Pius the Fifth, on tht 
application of Philip, gave him a cardinal's hat. The 
king seems to have taken the greater pleasure in this 
rapid elevation of Espinosa, that he sprang from a 
comparatively humble condition, and thus the heigiit 
to which he raised him served the more keenly 'o 
mortify the nobles. 

But the cardinal, as is too often the case with those 
who have suddenly risen to greatness, did not bear Ms 
honors meekly. His love of power was insatiable; ani 
when an office became vacant in any of his own dep.ir.- 
ments he was prompt to secure it for one of his de- 
pendants. An anecdote is told in relation to a place 
in the chancery of Granada which had become open 
by the death of the incumbent. As soon as the news 
reached Madrid, Hernandez de C6rdova, the royal 
equerry, made application to the king for it. Philiji 
answered that he was too late, that the place had been 
already given away. " How am I to understaqd your 
majesty?" said the petitioner. "The tidings we'e 
brought to me by a courier the moment at which the 
post became "vacant ; and no one could have broug!it 
them sooner unless he had wings." " That may be," 
said the monarch ; " but I have just given the place to 
another, whom the cardinal recommended to me as I 
was leaving the council."" 

Espinosa, says a contemporary, was a man of noble 
presence. He had the air of one born to command. 
His haughty bearing, however, did little for him with 



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ESPINUSA. 3", 

the more humble suiters, and disgusted the great lords, 
who looked down with conteirut on his lowly origin. 
They complained to the king of his intolerable arro- 
gance ;' and the king was not unwilling to receive their 
charges against him. In fact, he had himself grown 
to be displeased with his minister's presumption. He 
wai weary of the deference which, now that Espinosa 
hid become a cardinal, he felt obliged to pay him ; of 
coming forward to receive him when he entered the 
room ; of taking off his cap to the churchman, and 
giving him a seat as high as his own ; finally, of allow- 
ing htm to interfere in all appointments to office. It 
seemed incredible, says the historian, that a prince so 
jealous of his prerogatives should have submitted to A\ 
this so long." Philip was now determined to subinit 
to it, no longer, but to tumble from its pride of place 
the idol which he had raised with his own hands. 

He was slow in betraying his intention, by word or 
itct, to the courtiers, still more to the unfortunate min- 
ister, who continued to show the same security and 
confidence as if he were treading the solid ground, 
instead of the crust of a volcano. 

At length an opportunity offered when Espinosa, in 
a discussion respecting the affairs of Flanders, made 
a statement which the king deemed not entirely con- 
formable to truth. Philip at once broke in upoii 
the discourse with an appearance of great indigna- 
tion, and charged the minister with falsehood. The 
blow was the more effectual, coming from one who 
had been scarcely ever known to give way to pas- 



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372 



DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 



sion." The cardinal was stunned by it. He at once 
saw his ruin, and the vi::ion of glory vanished forever. 
He withdrew, more dead than alive, to his house. 
There he soon took to his bed ; and in a short time, in 
September, x^f*, he breathcl his last. His fate was 
that of more than one minister whose head had been 
made giddy by the height to which he had climbed.'* 
The council of state, under its two great leaders, 
Alva and Ruy Gomez, was sure to be divided on every 
question of importance. This was a fruitful source of 
embarrassment, and to private suitors, especially, oc- 
casioned infinite delay. Such was the hostility of the 
parties to each other that if an applicant for favor se- 
cured the good will of one of the chiefs he was very 
certain to encounter the ill will of the other." He was 
a skilful pilot who in such cross seas could keep his 

Yet the existence of these divisions does not seem to 
have been discouraged by Philip, who saw in them only 
the natural consequence of a rivalry for his favor. They 
gave him, moreover, the advantage of seeing every 
question of moment well canvassed, and, by furnishing 

■I Thx nnDnymous author of > conlemporary relation speaks'of the 
king »» a peison Utile subject to paasiona of anjr kind. The language 
is striking ; " E questo Re poco soggetto alle poslonl, venga eii, o 
pel inclinaiioTie naturalo. o per costume; e quasi non a.ppariscono in 
lui i priini movimenti ni dell' allegrezza, ni del dolore. ni dell' its 
anuoiB." MS. 

" " El Rey le babid tan asperamente sobre el aiinar una verdad, 
que le matii brevemente," says Cabiera emphatically. Pilipe Segundo. 
P 699. 

■s " Perch^ chi Tuole i1 farore del duca d'Alva perde quello di Ru]r 
Oomei, e chi cerca il favors dl Ruy Gomel, non ha queilo del duca 
d'Alva." RelaiioDe di Sorians. MS. 



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MSFIlfOSA. 373 

him with the opposite opinions of his councillors, en- 
abled him the more accurately to form his own. In the 
meaa time, the value which he set on both the great 
chiefs made him careful not to disgust either by any 
show of preference for his rival. He held the balance 
adroitly between them ; and if on any occasion he be- 
stowed a mark of his favor on the one, it was usually 
followed by some equivalent to the other,"* Thus, for 
the first twelve years of his reign their influence may 
be said to have been pretty equally exerted. Then 
came the memorable discussion respecting the royal 
visit to the Netherlands. Alva, as the reader may re- 
member, was of the opinion that Philip should send an 
army to punish the refractory and bring the country to 
obedience, when the king might visit it with safety 
to his own person. Ruy Gomez, on the other hand, 
recommended that Philip should go at once, without 
an army, and by mild and conciliatbry measures win the 
malccontents back to their allegiance. Each advised 
the course most congenial to his own temper, and the 
one, moreover, which would have required the aid of 
his own services to carry it into execution. Unfortu- 
nately, the violent measures of Alva were more con- 
genial to the stern temper of the king, and the duke 
was sent at the head of his battalions. 

But if Alva thus gained the victory, it was Ruy Gomez 
who reaped the fruits of it. Left without a rival in the 
council, his influence became predominant over every 

* Ranke has givep some pertinsnl eiamples of this in an Intemt- 
Ing sketch wblch he has presented of the relative portions of thesa 
two statesmen in the cabinet of Philip. Olloman and Spanish Em, 
pites(Eng. Irani.), p. 38, 

Philip.— Vol. III. 32 



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374 



DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 



Other. It became still more firmly established as Die 
result showed that his rival's mission was a failure. So 
it continued, after Alva's return, till the favorite's death. 
Even then his well -organized party was so deeply rooted 
that for several years longer it maintained an ascend- 
ency in the cabinet, while the duke languished in 
disgrace. 

Philip, unlike most of his predecessors, rarely took 
bis seat in the council of state. It was his maxim that 
his ministers would more freely discuss measures in the 
absence of their master than when he was there to 
overawe them. The course he adopted was^jr-a-i^ja; 
sulla, or a committee of two or three raemMrs, to wait 
on him in his cabinet and report to him the procee3^ 
ings of the council.'' He more commonly, especially 
in the later years of his reign, preferred to receive a 
full report of the discussion, written so as to leave an 
ample margin for his own commentaries. These were 
eminently characteristic of the man, and were so minute 
as usually to cover several sheets of paper. Philip had 
a reserved and unsocial temper. He preferred to work 
alone, in the seclusion of his closet, rather than in the 
presence of others. This may explain the reason, in 
part, why he seemed so much to prefer writing to talk- 
ing. Even with his private secretaries, who were always 
near at hand, he chose to communicate by writing ; 
and they had as large a mass of his autograph notes 
in their possession as if the correspondence had been 

T " Nan si trova mat S. M. presenle alle dellbcraliorii ne i consigli, 
ma deliberate! chiama una delle (re eonsulie . . . alia qual sempre si 
litrova, onde sono leue le risolutioni del (;onsi|[''io. ' Relaiioiie di 
TiEfiolo, MS. 



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PERSONAL HABITS OF PHILIP. 



375 



carried on from different parts of the kingdom.'' His 
thoughts too— at any rate his words — came slowlj' ; and 
by writing he gained time for the utterance of them. 

Philip has been accused o f indolence. As far as the 
body was concerned, such an accusation was well 
founded. Even when young, he had no fondness, as 
we have seen, for the robust and chivalrous sports of 
the age, I ^neve r, like his father, conducted military . 
expeditions ip peisoiL, He thougHTit wiser to follow f 
the example of his great-grandfather, Ferdinand the 
Catholic, who stayed at home and sent his generals to 
command his armies. As little did he like to travel, ' 
— forming too in this respect a great contrast to the 
emperor. He had been years on the throne before he 
made a visit to his great southern capital, Seville. It 
was a matter of complaint in cortes that he thus with- 
drew himself from the eves of his subjects. The only 
Bjiort he carca lor — not by any means to excess — was 
shooting with his gun or his cross-bow such game as he 
could iind in his own grounds at the Wood of Segovia, 
or Aranjuez, or some other of his pleasant country- , 
seats, none of them at a great distance from Madrid. 

On a visit to such places he would take with him as 
large a heap of papers as if he were a poor clerk earn- 
ing his bread ; and after the fatigues of the chase he 
would retire to his cabinet and refresh himself with his 
despatches." It would indeed be a great mistake to 

'' Ranke. Ottoman and Spanish Empires, p. 33. 

'I " E) dia que iva k cafa botvla con ensiaa de balver al trat>ajo. 
como un olicial pobre que huviera de ganar la coiuida con ello." Lo* 
Dichos y Hechos del Rey Phelipe II. (Bni3<elas, 1666). p. 314.— Scr 
also Relaiione di Pigafetla, M3. 



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J76 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

charge him with sluggishness of mind. He was con- 
tent to toil for hours, and long into the night, at his 
solitary labors,* No expression of weariness or of im- 
patience was known to escape him, A characteristic 
anecdote is told of him in regard to this. Having 
written a despatch, late at night, to be sent on the fol- 
lowing morning, he handed it to his secretary to throw 
some sand over it. This functionary, who happened 
to be dozing, suddenly roused himself, and, snatching 
up die inkstand, emptied it on the paper. The king, 
coolly remarking that " it would have been better t& 
use the sand," set himself down, without any com- 
plaint, to rewrite the whole of the letter." A prince 
so much addicted to the pen, we may well believe, 
must have left a large amount of autograph materials 
behind him. Few monarchs, in point'of fact, have 
done so much in this way to illustrate the history of 
their reigns. _ Fortunate would it have been for the 
historian who was to profit by it, if the royal compo- 
sition had been somewhat less diffuse and the hand- 
writing somewhat more legible." 

Philip was an economist of time, and regulated tne 
distribution of it with great precision. In the morn- 
ing he gave audience to foreign ambassadors. He 
afterwards heard mass. After mass came dinner, in 

« RelulDne di Vandramino, MS.—Relauoae di ConlHrini, MS.— 
'■ Distiibuii las horas del dia, se puede decir. todas en los negocios, 
quiiado yo 1o conod ; porque aunque las tenia de 0910 li ocupaciones 
fc>[9osas de su persona, las gaslava con tales criados elegidos tan \ 
proposito qu« quanlo hablava venia & ser informar» mucho, descacio 
CD lo que i. olro costara nota y latiga." MS. Anon. In the Ubiaii 
of the Dukes of Bui^undy. 

" Dichos y Hechos del Key Phelipe II., pp. 339. 340. 



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PERSONAL HABITS OF PHILIP. 



sn 



ni& father's fashion. But dinner was not an affair with 
Philip of so much moment as it was with Charles. He 
was exceedingly temperate both in eating and drinking, 
and not unfrequently had his physician at his side, to 
warn him against any provocative of the gout, — the he- 
reditary disease which at a very early period had begun 
to affect his health. After a light repast, he gave audi- 
ence to such of his subjects as desired to present their 
memorials. He received the petitioners graciously, and 
listened to all they had to say with patience, — for that 
was his virtue. But his countenance was exceedingly 
grave, — ^which, in truth, was its natural expression; 
and there was a reserve in his deportment which made 
the boldest feel ill at ease in his presence. On such 
occasions he would say, "Compose yourself," — a re- 
commendation that had not always the tranquillizing 
effect intended," Once when a papal nuncio forgot, 
in his confusion, the address he had prepared, the king 
coolly remarked, " If you will bring it in writing, I 
will read it myself, and expedite your business."" It 
was natural that men of even the highest rank should 
be overawed in the presence of a monarch who held 
the destinies of so many millions in his hands, and who 
smrounded hinaself with a veil of mystery which the 
most cunning politician could not penetrate. 

The reserve so noticeable in his youth increased with 
age. He became more difficult of access. His public 
audiences were much less frequent. In the summer he 

•■ " A estos cstando turbados, y desalentados, los animava dinen- 
dotes, wss^aos." IMchos y Hechos del Rey Phctipe II., p. 40. 

"9 " EKtiendole si I0 Iraeis escrilo, lo TCri, y os hor^ despacbar.' 
Ibid., p. 41. 

33» 



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J78 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

would escape from them altogether, by taking refuge in 
MHie one of his country places. His favorite retreat 
was his palace-monastery of the Escorial, then slowly 
rising under his patronage and affording him an occu- 
I^tion congenial with his taste. He seems, howevei, 
to have sought the country not so much from the love 
of its beauties as for the retreat it afforded him from 
the town. When in the latter, he rarely showed him- 
self to the public eye, going abroad chiefly in a close 
carriage, and driving late so as to return to the city 
after dark.** 

Thus he lived in solitude even in the heart of hla 
capital, knowing much less of men from his own 
observation than from the reports that were made to 
him. In availing himself of these sources of informa- 
tion he was indefatigable. He caused a statistical 
survey of Spain to be prepared for his own use. It 
was a work of immense labor, embracing a vast amount 
of curious details, such as were rarely brought together 
in those days."* He kept his spies at the principal 
European courts, who furnished him with intelligence; 
and he was as well acquainted with what was passing in 
England and in France as if he had resided on the 
spot. We have seen how well he knew the smallest 
details of the proceedings in the Netherlands, some- 
times even better than Margaret herself. He employed 

1 " Quando esce di Palaiio, suole montaie in un cocchio coperto 
di tela incerata. el seirata a modo cbe non si vede. . . . Suole quando 
ia in villa ritornare la sera per le porte del Parco, sensn esser vedula 
da aJcuno. " Relaiione di Pigafella, MS. 

•s Rarke, Oltoman and Spanish Empires, p. 33.— Inglis speaks of 
seeing this worli in ihe library vrlien he visited Ihe Escoral. Spain 
in 1830. VOL i. p. 3^8. 



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PERSONAL HABITS OF PlltUP. 



ITi 



similai means to procure information that might be of 
service in making appointments to ecclesiastical and 
civil offices. 

In his eagerne-ffi for information, his ear was ever 
open to accusations against his ministers, which, as 
tEey were sure to be locked up in his own bosom, 
*ere not slow in coming to him."* Thii filled his 
mind with^sii^ucions. He waited till time had proved 
their truth, treating the object of them with particular 
favor till the hour of vengeance had arrived. The 
reader will not have forgotten the terrible saying of 
Philip's own historian,- "His dagger followed close 
upon his smile."" 

Even to the ministers in whom Philip appeared most 
to confide, he often gave but half his confidence. In- 
stead of frankly furnishing them with a full statement 
of facts, he sometimes made so imperfect a disclosure 
that, when his measures came to be taken, his counsel- 
lors were surprised to find of how much they had been 
kept in ignorance. When he communicated to them 
any foreign despatches, he would not scruple to alter 
the original, striking out some passages and inserting 
others, so as best to serve his purpose. The copy, in 
this garbled form, was given to the council. Such was 
the case with a letter of Don John of Austria, contain- 
ing an account of the troubles of Genoa, the original 
of which, with its numerous alterations in tlie royal 
handwriting, still exists in the Archives of Simancas." 

^ Ranke. Oiioman and Spanish Empires, p. 33. 

1 See ante, vol, ii. p. 493. 

•* Laruente. Hbloria de Espalta, torn. xiv. p. 44. — The historian 
tells OS he has seen the original leiier, wllh the changes nade in it by 
fbUip. 



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580 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAm. 

But, thpugh Philip's suspicious nature prevented him 
from entirely trusting his ministers, — though with 
chilling reserve he kept at a distance even those who 
approached him neatest, — he was kind, even liberal, , 
to his servants, was not c^ricious in his humors, and 
seldom, if ever, gave way to those sallies of passion 
so common in princes clothed with absolute power. 
He was patient to the last degree, and rarely changed 
his ministers without good cause. Ruy Gomez was not 
the only courtier who continued in the royal service to 
the end of his days. 

Philip was of a careful, or, to say truth, of a jhigal 
dispo sition, w hich he may well have inherited from his 
littler; tkough this did not, as with his father in later 
life, degenerate into parsimony. Tlie beginning of 
his reign, indeed, was distinguished by some acts of 
uncommon liberality. One of these occurred at the 
close of Alva's campaigns in Italy, when the king 
presented that commander with a hundred and fift> 
thousand ducats, greatly to the discontent of the 
emperor. This was contrary to his usual policy. As 
he grew older, and the expenses of government pressed 
more heavily on him, he became more economical. 
Yet those who served him had no reason, like the 
emperor's servants, to complain of their master's 
meanness. It was observed, however, that he was 
slow to recompense those who served him until they 
had proved themselves worthy of it. Still, it was a 
man's own fault, says a contemporary, if he was not 
well paid for his services in the end.' 



le Adoo.. MS. 



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PERSONAL HABITS OF PHILIP. 38, 

Id one particular he indulged in a most lavish ex- 
penditure. This was his household. It was formed 
on the Burgundian model, — the most stately and mag- 
nificent in Europe. Its peculiarity consisted in the 
number and quality of the members who composed it. 
The principal officers were nobles of the highest rank, 
who frequently held posts of great consideration in the 
state. Thus, the duke of Alva was chief major-domo ; 
the prince of Eboli was first gentleman of the bed- 
chamber ; the duke of Feiia was captain of the Spanish 
guard. There was the grand equerry, the grand hunts- 
man, the chief muleteer, and a host of officers, some 
of whom were designated by menial titles, though 
nobles and cavaliers of family.* There were forty 
pages, sons of the most illustrious houses in Castile. 
The whole household amounted to no less than fifteen 
hundred persons." The king's guard consisted of three 
hundred men, one-third of whom were Spaniards, one- 
third Flemings, and the remainder Germans." 

The queen had also her establishment on the same 
scale. She had twenty-six ladies-in-waiting, and, 
among other functionaries, no less than four physi- 
cians to watch over her health,^ 

The annual cost of the royal establishment amounted 

y Relaoone della Corle cK Spagaa, MS. — Relaiione di Badoer, 
MS.— EtiqueUs de Palacio, MS. 



J-'-Htt 


le guardie di 100 persone 


I'una; lipiihonc 


tognoni e 


Fiannninghi. che hanno 


ad es»r ben nal 


cavallo. e 


i dicono Arcieri aecompa) 


Tiando bene 11 Re 



sono d'Albardieri 100 di nazion tedesca, et altri e tanti SpagnmrfL 
Relaiione delta Coite di Spagna. MS. 
^ Raumer, Sixtmnlh aad Seventeenth Centuijes, vol. L p. 106. 



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jS* DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

to full two hundred thousand florins," The cortes 
earnestly remonstrated against this useless prodigality, 
beseeching the king to place his household on the 
modest scale to which the monarchs of Castile had 
been accustomed." And it seems singular that one 
usually so averse to extravagance and pomp should 
have so recklessly indulged in them here. It was one 
of those inconsistencies which we sometimes meet with 
in private life, when a man habitually careful of his 
expenses indulges himself in some which taste, or, as 
in this case, early habits, have made him regard as 
indispensable. The emperor had been careful to form 
the household of his son, when very young, on the 
Burgundian model; and Philip, thus early trained, 

trobably regarded it as essential to the royal dignity. 
The king did not affect an ostentation in his dress 
orresponding with that of his household. This seemed 
to be suited to the sober-colored livery of his own 
feelings, and was almost always of black velvet or 
satin, with shoes of the former material. He wore a 
cap, garnished with plumes after the Spanish fashion. 
He used few ornaments, scarce any but the rich jewel 
of the Golden Fleece, which hung from his neck. 
But in his attire he was scrupulously neat, says the 
Venetian diplomatist who tells these particulars; and 
he changed his dress for a new one every month, giving 
away his cast-off suits to his attendants.^ 

" Raumer. Sixleenlh and Seventeeolh Cenluries, vol. I. p. 105. 
B Cottes of 1538, peticioD 4. 

>* " Qussli habili sempre sono nuovi el puUt], perche ogni mese ae 
gll mula, et pol gli dona quando ad unt>, e quando >d un altro.' 



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PERSOlfAL HABITS OF PHILIP. 383 

It was a capital defect in Philip's administration that 
his love of power and his distrust of others made him 
desire to do every thing himself, — even those things 
which could be done much better by his ministers. As 
he was slow in making up his own opinions, and seldom 
acted without first ascertaining those of his council, we 
may well understand the miscliievous consequences of 
such delay. Loud were the complaints of private 
suitors, who saw month after month pass away without 
an answer to their petitions. The state suffered no 
less, as the wheels of government seemed actually to 
stand still under the accumulated pressure of the public 
business. Even when a decision did come, it often 
came too late to be of service ; for the circumstances 
which led to it had wholly changed. Of this the 
reader has seen more than one example in the Nether- 
lands. The favorite saying of Philip, that " time and 
he were a match for any other two," was a sad mistake. 
The time he demanded was his ruin. It was in vain 
that Granvelle, who, at a later day, came to Castile to 
assume the direction of affairs, endeavored, in his 
courtly language, to convince the king of his error, 
telling him that no man could bear up under such a 
load of business, which sooner or later must destroy 
his health, perhaps his life." 

V Gafhard cites a passage from one of Granvelle's unpublished 
letters, in which he says, "Suplico 4 V. M., con la humildad que 
devo, que considerando quanio su vida impona al principe nuestro 
sefior, i todos sus reynos y Elsiados, y vasillos suyos, y aun d loda la 
ehtistiandad. mirando en que miseramlo estado quedaiia sin V. M., 
■ea secvido mirar adelante mds por su salud, descargandose de Ian 
grande y conlinuo trabajo, que lanto dailo le haie." Rapport pre 
itnA to the Conespoudanoe d'; Philippe II. (lom. i. p. 11.}, in wbicb 



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3S4 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

A letter address to the king by his grand almoner, 
Don Luis Manrique, told the truth in plainer terms, 
Buch as had not often reached the royal ear. "Your 
majesty's subjects everywhere complain," he says, " of 
your manner of doing business, — sitting all day long 
over your papers, from your desire, as they intimate, to 
seclude yourself from the world, and from a want of 
confidence in your ministers.* Hence such intermi- 
nable delays as fill the soul of every suitor with despair. 
Your subjects are discontented that you refuse to take 
your seat in the council of state. The Almighty," he 
adds, "did not send kings into the world to spend 
their days in reading or writing, or even in meditation 
and prayer," — in which Philip was understood to pass 
much of his time, — "but to serve as public oracles, to 
which all may resort for answers. If any sovereign 
have received this grace, it is your majesty; and the 
greater the sin, therefore, if you do not give free access 
to all." » One may be surprised to find that language 

his usual conscientiousness and care, enters 
le character and personal hahiis of Philip. 

3" " Habiendo en olra ocasion avisado k vueslra magestad de la 
publica queiella y desconsuelo que habia del estilo que vueslra ma- 
gestad habia lomado de negociar, estando perpetuamenle osido i. !□• 
papelRS, por lener mejor tituto para huir de la genlc, ademas de do 
quererue liar de nadie." Carta que escrivio al Seflor Key Felipe Se- 
guado Don Luis Manrique, su limosnero mayor, MS. 

* " No embio Dios i. vnestra magestad y i, lodos las otros Reyes, 
que lienen sus veces en la tierra, pata que se exlravien leyendo til 
escri'jlendo ni aun conlemplando Di reiando, si do para que fiiesen y 
aean publicos y patentes oraculos d donde lodi)s sus subditos vengan 
por sui rnpuestas. . . . Y si d algun Rey en el mundo di6 Dios esti 
grada, es i. vuestra magestad y por eso es mayor la r.ulpa de no mani- 
festarse i. todos." Ibid. — A copy of diis letter is preserved among 
Ibe E^ertoa MSS. in the British Museum. 



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COURT AND NOBLES. 385 

such as this was addressed to a prince like Philip tha 
Second, and that he should have borne it so patiently. 
But in this the king resembled his father. Churchmen 
and jesters — of which latter he had usually one or two 
in attendance — were privileged ptersons at his court. 
In point of fact, the homilies of the one had as little 
effect as the jests of the other. 

The pomp of the royal establishment was imitated 
on a smaller scale by the great nobles living on their 
vast estates scattered over the country. Their revenues 
were very large, though often heavily burdened. Out 
of twenty-three dukes, in 1581, only three had an 
income so low as forty thousand ducats a year.*" That 
of most of the others ranged from fifty to a hundred 
thousand, and that of one, the duke of Medina Sidonja, 
was computed at a hundred and thirty-five thousand. 
Revenues like these would not easily have been matched 
. in that day by the aristocracy of any other nation in 
Christendom,* 

The Spanish grandees preferred to live on their 
estates in the country. But in the winter they repaired 
to Madrid, and displayed their magnificence at the 
court of their sovereign. Here they dazzled the eye 
by the splendor of their equipages, the beauty of their 
horses, their rich liveries, and the throng of their 
retainers. But with all this the Castilian court was far 
from appearing in the eyes of foreigners a gay one, — 

« Nota di tutli li Titolati di Spagna con li loro casate et rendile, 
elc, fatta nel 1581, MS. 

» Ibid. — The Spanish aristocracy, In 15B1, reckoned twenty-three 
dukes, forty-two maiquises, and fifty-sli coiuits. All the dukes and 
thirteen 0/ the inferior nobles vere grandeeSL 

Philip.— Vol. III.— k 33 



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386 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAiy. 

forming in this respect a contrast to the Flemish court 
of Margaret of Parma. It seemed to have imbibed 
much of the serious and indeed sombre character of 
the monarch who presided over it. All was stately and 
ceremonious, with old-fashioned manners and usages. 
"There is nothing new to be seen there," write the 
Venetian envoys. "There is no pleasant gossip about 
the events of the day. If a man is acquainted with 
any news, he is too prudent to repeat it." The 
courtiers talk little, and for the most part are igno- 
rant, — in fact, without the least tincture of learning. 
The arrogance of the great lords is beyond belief; and 
when they meet a foreign ambassador, or even the 
nuncio of his holiness, they rarely condescend to salute 
him by raising their caps.** They all affect that im- 
perturbable composure, or apathy, which they term 
sosie^."** 

They gave no splendid banquets, like the Flemish ■ 
nobles. Their chief amusement was gaming, — the 
hereditary vice of the Spaniard. They played deep, 
often to the great detriment of their fortunes. This 
did not displease the king. It may seem strange that 
a society so cold and formal should be much addicted 

v'La. corteimuta; In publico non si ra^ona. di nuove, et chi pure 
le «a. se lo tacc." Relazione di Pigafetta, MS. 

•3 " Sono d' animo tamo elevato . . . che t cosa molto difficile da 
CRdere . . . e quando awiene che incontiino o auDd del ponleiice o 
ambasciadorl di qualche tesla coronata o d' altio stalo, pochissimi aoa 
qnetli che si levin la berrela." Relazione di Badoero, MS. 

u " Non si atlende & lellere, ma la Nobilitk i a maraviglia ignortintB 

jic/e, che vuol dire tranquillity et sicureus, et quasi seienitL" Ra- 
laxione di Pigafetta, MS. 



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COURT AND NOBLES. 387 

lo intrigue.* In this they followed the example of 
their master. 

Thus passing their days in frivolous amusen:ient5 and 
idle dalliance, the Spanish nobles, with the lofty titles 
and pretensions of their ancestors, were a degenerate 
race. With a few brilliant exceptions, they filled no 
important posts in the state or in the army. Tlic 
places of most consideration to which they aspired 
were those connected with the royal household ; and 
their greatest honor was to possess the empty privileges 
of the grandee, and to sit with their heads covered in 
the presence of the king,** 

Fro::! this life of splen did humiliation they were 
nothing Icath to esc^ie into the country, wh«re they 
passed their days in their ancestral castles* surroiinded 
Dy princely domains, which embraced towns and vil- 
lages within their circuit, and a population sometimes 
reaching to thirty thousand families. Here the proud 
lords lived in truly regal pomp. Their households 
were formed on that of the sovereign. They had their 
major-domos, their gentlemen of the bedchamber, their 
grand equerries, and other officers of rank. Their halls 
were filled with hidalgos and cavaliers, and a throng 
of inferior retainers. They were attended by body- 
guards of one or two hundred soldiers. Their dwell- 

W'Non si conviti 
Reladone di PigaTettj 
CoDlariDl. 

4* Dr. Salaiar y Mendoia takes a very exalted view of tbe impor- 
tance of this right 10 wear the hat in the presence of (he king, — "a 
prerogative," he remarks, " so illustrious In itself, and so admirable in 
lU eSects, that It alone BuSices to stamp its peculiar cbamcter On Ihl 
dignity of the grandee." Dignidades de CastiUa. p. 34. 



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j88 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

ings were sumptuously furnished, and their sideboards 
loaded with plate from the silver quarries of the New 
World. Their chapels were magnificent. Their wives 
affected a royal state. They had their ladies of honor ; 
and the page who served as cup-bearer knelt while his 
mistress drank. Even knights of ancient blood, whom 
she addressed from her seat, did not refuse to bend the 
knee to her." 

/ Amidst ^1 this splendor, the Spanish grandees had 
110 real power to correspond with it. They^ could no 
Donger, as in the days of their fathers, engage in feuds 
VitK'one another j nor could tTiey enjoy the privilege, so 
h ighly prized, of renouncing their allegiance and declar- 
ing war upon thcii sovereign. Their numerous vassals, 
instead of being gathered as of yore into a fonnidable 
military array, had sunk into the more humble rank of 
retainers, who served only to swell the idle pomp of 
their lord's establishment. They were no longer allowed 
to bear arms, except in the service of the crown ; and 
after the Moriscoes had been reduced, the crown had 
no occasion for their services, — unless in foreign war.* 
The measures by which Ferdinand and Isabella 
bad broken the power of the aristocracy had been 
enforced with still greater rigor by Charles the Fifth, 
and were now carried out even more effectually by 
Philip the Second. For Philip had the advantage of 
being always in Spain, while Charles passed most of 
his time in other parts of his dominions. Thus evet 
present, Philip was as prompt to enforce the law 

t Rsnlie. Ottoman and Spanish Empires, p. 57. 
» Relatione di Tiepolo, MS.— ReUnone Anon., US.— RcUiioae 
di Conlariu, MS. 



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COURT AND NOBLES. 389 

against the highest noble as against the humblest of 
his subjects. 

i'Men of rank commanded the armies abroad, and 
were sent as viceroys to Naples, Sicily, Milan, and the 
provinces of the New World. But at home they were 
rarely raised to civil or military ofiice. They no longer 
formed a necessary part of the national legislature, and 
were seldom summoned to the meetings of the cortesj 
for the Castittan noble claimed exemption from the 
public burdens, and it was rarely that the cortes were 
assembled for any other purpose than to impose those 
burdens. Thus without political power of any kind, 
they resided like so many private gentlemen on their 
estates in the country. Their princely style of living 
gave no umbrage to the king, who was rather pleased 
to see them dissipate their vast revenues in a way that 
was attended with no worse evil than that of driving 
the proprietors to exactions which made iliem odious 
to their vassals.* Such, we are assured by a Venetian 
envoy, — who, with great powers of observation, was 
placed in the best situation for exerting them, — ^was the 
policy of Philip. "Thus," he concludes, "did the king 
make himself feared by those who, if they had managed 
discreetly, might have made themselves feared by him. " *■ 
While the aristocracy was thus depressed, the strong 
arm of Charles the Fifth had stripped the Castilian 
commons of their most precious rights. Philip, happily 
for himself, was spared the odium of having reduced 



Che per conlrario affligiono I loro prapiil si 



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390 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

them to this abject condition. But he was as carefiil 
as hia father could have been that they should not rise 
from it. The legislative power of the commons, that 
most important of all their privileges, was nearly anni- 
hilated. T^e Castilian cortes were, it is true, frequently 
convoked under Philip, — more frequently, on the whole, 
than in any preceding reign. For in them still resided 
the power of voting supplies for the crown. To have 
summoned them so often, therefore, was rather a proof 
of the necessities of the government than of respect 
for the rights of the commons. 

The cortes, it is true, still enjoyed the privilege of 
laying their grievances before the king ; but, as they 
were compelled to vote the supplies before they pre- 
sented their grievances, they had lost the only lever by 
which they could effectually operate on the royal will. 
Yet when we review their petitions, and see the care 
with which they watched over the interests of the na- 
tion and the courage with which they maintained them, 
we cannot refuse our admiration. We must acknowl- 
edge that under every circumstance of discouragement 
and oppression the old Castilian spirit still lingered in 
the hearts of the people. In proof of this, it will not 
be amiss to cite a few of these petitions, which, whether 
successful or not, may serve at least to show the state 
of public opinion on the topics to which they relate. 

One, of repeated recurrence, is a remonstrance to 
the king on the enormous expense of his household,— 
"as great," say the cortes, "as would he required for 
the conquest of a kingdom,"" The Burgundian estab< 



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THE CORTES. 



391 



lisliment, independently of its costliness, found little 
favor with the honest Castilian ; and the cortes prayed 
his majesty to abandon it, and to return to the more 
simple and natural usage of his ancestors. Theyrepre- 
sented " the pernicious effects which this manner of 
living necessarily had on the great nobles and others 
of his subjects, prone to follow the example of their 
master."" To one of these petitions Philip replied 
that " he would cause the matter to be inquired into, 
and such measures to be taken as were most for his ser- 
vice." No alteration took place during his reign ; and 
the Burgundian establishment, which in 1561 involved 
an annual charge of a hundred and fifty-six millions of 
maravedis, was continued by his successor.'' 

Another remonstrance of constant recurrence — a 
proof of its inefficacy — was that against the alienaticrti_ 
of the crcivoiJands .aod-the sale of offices and the .le^cr 
titles of_jiobnityi_jro this the king made answer in 
much the same equivocal language as before. Another 
petition besought him no longer to seek an increase of 
his revenue by imposing taxes without the sanction of 
the cortes required by the ancient law and usage of the 
tealm. Philip's reply on this occasion was plain 
enoi^;h. It was, in truth, one worthy of an Eastern 
despot. "The necessities," he said, "which have 
compelled me to resort to these measures, far from 
having ceased, have increased, and are still increas- 
ing, allowing me no alternative but to pursue the 
course I have adopted."" Philip's cmbarrassmenU 

S» Corte* of Toledo of 1559, pet. 3, 

n Lafuente, Hisloria de EspaAa, tom. xUi. p. ilS. 

H Ibid., torn. Kiv. p. 397. 



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39* 



DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 



were indeed great, — far beyond the reach of any finan- 
cial skill of his ministers to remove. His various ex- 
pedients for relieving himself from the burden, which, 
as he truly said, was becoming heavier every day, form 
a curious chapter in the history of finance. But we 
have not yet reached the period at which they can be 
most effectively presented to the reader. 

The commons strongly urged the king to complete 
the great work he had early undertaken, of embodying 
in one code the roi jnici pa l law of Castile." They gave 
careful attention to the administration of justice, showed 
their desire for the reform of various abuses, especially 
for quickening the despatch of business, proverbially 
slow in Spain, and, in short, for relieving suitors as far 
as possible from the manifold vexations to which they 
were daily exposed in tiie tribunals. With a wise 
liberality, they recommended that, in order to secure 
the services of competent persons in judicial offices, 
their salaries — in many cases wholly inadequate — 
should be greatly increased.* 

The cortes watched with a truly parental care over 
the great interests of the state, — its commerce, its hus- 
bandry, and its manufactures. They raised a loud, and, 
as it would seem, not an ineffectual, note of remon- 
strance against the tyrannical practice of the crown in 
seizing for its own nse the bullion which, as elsewhere 
stated, had been imported from the New World on tlieir 
own account by the merchants of Seville. 

Some of the petitions of the cortes show what would 
be thought at the present day a strange ignorance of the 



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THE CORTES. 



393 



true j'riDciples of legislation in respect to commerce. 
Thui, regarding gold and silver, independently of their 
value as a medium of exchange, as constituting in a 
peculiar manner the wealth of a country, the y con- 
sidered_jhat_the Jrue policy_was to keeg_ the precious 
metal s at .h ome, and prayed that their ^.expoiiation 
might be for^ddgu^-Yet this was a common error in 
?K5 "StSleenth century with other nations besides the 
Spaniards, It may seem singular, however, that the 
experience of three-fourths of a century had not satis- 
fied the Castilian of the futility of such attempts to 
obstruct the natural current of commercial circulation. 

In the same spirit, they besought th e king to p rohibit 
the use of.gpl4.aQd,^!yer.in pLajing copper and other 
substances, as well as for wearing -apparel and_articles 
of household luxury. It was a waste of the precious 
tri'etafe, whicK were needed for other purposes. This 
petition of the commons may be referred in part, no 
doubt, to their fondness for sumptuary laws, which in 
Castile formed a more ample code than could be easily 
found in any other country." The love of costly and 
ostentatious dress was a passion which they may have 
caught from their neighbors the Spanish Arabs, who 
delighted in this way of displaying their opulence. It 
furnished, accordingly, from an early period, a fruitful 
theme of declamation to the clergy, in their invectives 
against the pomp and vanities of the world. 

Unfortunately, Philip, who was so frequently deaf to 

W The history of Inxuiy in Caslile. and of the various enactments 
for Iho restraint of il, fonns (he subject of a work by Sempere y Gu^ 
linos, containing many curious particulars, especially in regard to the 
life of the Castilians al an earlier period of iheir history. HIsloria del 
Lnio (Madrid, 1788, a torn. lamo). 



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394 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIlf. 

the wiser suggestions of the cortes, gave his sanction to 
this petition ; and in d.prapnati£ devoted to the object 
he carried out the ideas of the legislature as heartily as 
the most austere reformer could have desired. As a 
state paper it has certainly a novel aspect, going at 
great length into such minute specifications of wearing* 
apparel, both male and female, that it would seem to 
have been devised by a committee of tailors and mil* 
liners rather than of grave legislators.' The tailors, 
indeed, the authors of these seductive abominations, 
did not escape the direct animadversion of the cortes. 
In another petition they were denounced as improfit- 
able persons, occupied with needle-work, like women, 
instead of tilling the ground or serving his majesty in 
the wars, like men.** 

In the siune spirit of impertinent legislation, the 
cortes would have regulated the expenses of the table, 
which, they said, of late years had been excessive. 
They recommended that no one should be allowed to 
have more than four dishes of meat and four of fruit 

^ " Aosai mismo mandamus que ning^una persona de nlnguna cod- 
didon nl calidad que lea. no pueda iraer ni traya en ropa ni en ves- 
lido, ni en caliai. nl Jubon. ni en gualdrapa, ni gufunicion de mula 
ni de cavallo, ningun genero de bordado ni recamado. nl gandujado, 
ni entordudo, ni diaperia de oro ni de plata, ni de oro de caltutillo, 
ni de manillo. ni ningun genero de trenia ni cordon ni cordoncillo, 
ni franja. ni pasamano. ni pesponte, ni perfil de oro ni plata ni iieda, 
ni otra co^a, aunque el dicho oro y plain sean folsos,"eIc. PracmaDca 
eipedida i peticion de la Cortel de Madrid de 1563. 

» '■ Ocupado* en este oficio j ginero de vivienda de coser. quo 
habia de ser para las mugeres, muchos hombres que poddan servir i 
S. M. en la guerra dejaban de ir d ella, y dejaban tambien de labrar 
kx campos." Cortes of 1573. pel. 75, ap. LaTuente, HisL de Espaaa, 
torn. ii». p. 407. 



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THE CORTES. 



395 



served at the same meal. They were further scandal* 
iied by the increasing use of coaches, a mode of convey- 
ance which had been introduced into Spain only a few 
years before. They regarded them as tempting men 
to an effeminate indulgence which most of them could 
ill afford. They considered the practice, moreover, aa 
detrimental to the good horsemanship for which their 
ancestors had been so renowned. They prayed, there- 
fore, that, considering " the nation had done well for 
so many years without the use of coaches, it might 
henceforth be prohibited."*' Philip so far complied 
with their petition as to forbid any one but the owner 
of four horses to keep a coach. Thus he imagined 
that, while encouraging the raising of horses, he should 
effectually discourage any but the more wealthy from 
affecting this costly luxury. 

There was another petition, somewhat remarkable, 
and worth citing as it shows the attachment of the 
Castilians to a national institution which has often 
incurred the censure of foreigners. A petition of the 
cortes of 1573 prayed that some direct encouragement 
might be given to bull-fights, which of late had shown 
symptoms of decline. They advised that the principal 
towns should be required to erect additional circuses, 
and to provide lances for the combatants and music for 
the entertainments at the charge of the municipalities. 
They insisted on this as important for mending the 
breed of horses, as well as for furnishing a chivalrous 
exercise for the nobles and cavaliers. This may excite 
some surprise in a spectator of our day, accustomed to 

•o Cortra of i£73, pet. 75, ftp. La'uenie, Hill, de Eipalla, tom. 



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596 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

see only the mosi wretched hacks led to the slaughter 
and men of humble condition skirmishing in the arena. 
It was otherwise in those palmy days of chivalry, when 
the horses employed were of a generous breed, and the 
combatants were nobles, who entered the lists with as 
proud a feeling as that with which they would htve 
gone to a tourney. Even so late as the sixteenth 
century it was the boast of Charles the Fifth that, 
when a young man, he had fought like a matador and 
killed his bull. Philip gave his assent to this petition 
with a promptness which showed that he understood 
the character of his countrymen. 

It would be an error to regard the more exception- 
able and frivolous petitions of the cortes, some of which 
have been above enumerated, as affording a true type 
of the predominant character of Castilian legislation. 
The laws, or, to speak correctly, the petitions, of that 
body, are strongly impressed with a wise and patriotic 
sentiment, showing a keen perception of the wants of 
the community and a tender anxiety to relieve them. 
Thus, we find the cortes recommending that guardians 
should be appointed to find employment for such young 
and destitute persons as, without friends to aid them, 
had no means of getting a livelihood for themselves." 
They propose to have visitors chosen, whose duty it 
.should be to inspect the prisons every week and see 
that titting arrangements u'ere made for securing the 
health and cleanliness of the inmates." They desire 

'■ Ranke, Ottoman and Spanish Empirss, p. sg. 

'' "Que cada semanad cada mes se nombren en los ajruntamienloi 
de cada ciiidad f> villa deslos Reynos, dos Regidores, los qualei se 
ballen i. la vision jr visiias dc la carceL" Coites of Tcdedo of ;SS9, 
1560, pet. loa. 



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THE CORTES. 



397 



that care should be taken to have suitable accommoda- 
tions provided at the inns for travellers.*' With their 
usual fondness for domestic inquisition, they take notice 
of the behavior of servants to their masters, and, with 
a simplicity that may well excite a smile, they animad- 
vert on the conduct of maidens who, " in the absence 
of their mothers, spend their idle hours in reading 
romances full of lies and vanities, which they receive 
as truths for the government of their own conduct in 
their intercourse with the world."** The books thus 
stigmatized were doubtless the romances of chivalry, 
which at this period were at the height of their popu- 
larity in Castile. Cervantes had not yet aimed at this 
pestilent literature those shafts of ridicule which did 
more than any legislation could have done towards 
driving it from the land. 

The commons w^jrhpH ovpr thf bni;i"'"« f^f ^"C?.''"" 
as zealous l y as over any of the material interests of the 
slate. They inspected the condition of the higher 
seminaries, and would have provision made for the 
foundation of new chairs in the universities. In 
accordance with their views, though not in conformity 
to any positive suggestion, Philip published a pragmatic 

*J Provision real para que los mesones del reyno eslen bien provei- 
dtn de los maDlenimienloE necesarios para los cammanles, Toledo, 
so de Octubte de 1560. 

^ " Como los mancebos y las doniellas por su oclosldad se princl- 
palmente ocupan en aquello ^tti libtos de menliras y vHiiidades], 
desvanecense y aiicionanse en cierta maneira i los casos que leen en 
aquellos libtos baver aconlescido. ansi de omores como de annaa 7 
otras vanidades : y aHicionados. quando se ofTiece algun caso seme- 
jante, danse i. el mas d rienda suelta que » no lo huviessea leydo." 
Cortes of 155S, pet. 107, cited by Ranlce, Ottocnnn and Spanlib Bni' 
pires. p. 6a 

Philip.— Vol. in. 34 



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398 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

m respect to these institutions. He complained of the 
practice, rapidly increasing among his subjects, of 
going abroad to get their education, when the most 
ample provision was made for it at home. The effect 
was eminently disastrous; for, while the Castilian 
universities languished for want of patronage, the 
student who went abroad was pretty sure to retura 
with ideas not the best suited to his own country. 
The king, therefore, prohibited Spaniards from going 
to any university out of his dominions, and required 
all now abroad to return. This edict he accompanied 
with the severe penalty of forfeiture of their secular 
possessions for ecclesiastics, and of banishment and 
confiscation of property for laymen.** 

This kind of pragmatic, though made doubtless in 
accordance with the popular feeling, inferred a stretch 
of arbitrary power that cannot be charged on those 
which emanated directly from the suggestion of the 
legislature. In this respect, however, it fell far short 
of those ordinances which proceeded exclusively from 
the royal will, without reference to the wishes of the 
commons. Such ordinances — and they were probably 
more nbmerous than any other class of laws during this 
reign — are doubtless among the most arbitrary acts of 
which a monarch can be guilty ; for they imply nothing 
less than an assumption of the law-making power into his 
own hands. Indeed, they met with a strong remon- 
strance in the year 1579, when Philip was besought by 
the commons not to make any laws but such as had first 
received the sanction of the cortes." Yet Philip might 

'I Pracmatlca para que ningun natural de eslos reynot vava i. estu- 
diar fiiera de eHos, Aranjuei. ai de Noviembre de 1559. 

f^ Marina, Teoiia de lai Cortes, torn, 11. p. 319, 



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THB CORTES. 



399 



vindicate himself by the example of his predecessors, — 
even of those ?ho, like Ferdinand and Isabella, had 
most at heart the interests of the nation.* 

It must be further admitted that the more regular 
mode of proceeding;, with the co-operation of the 
cortes, had in it much to warrant the idea that the 
real right of legislation was vested _m , the king. A 
petition, usually c6iicTie3~Tn the most humble terms, 
prayed his majesty to give his assent to the law pro- 
posed. This he did in a few words; or, what was 
much more common, he refused to give it, declaring 
that in the existing case "it was not expedient that 
any change should be made." It was observed that 
the number of cases in which Philip rejected the 
petitions of the commons was much greater than had 
been usual with former sovereigns. 

A more frequent practice with Philip was one that 
better suited his hesitating nature and habit of pro- 
crastination^ He replied, in ambiguous terms, that 
"he would take the matter into consideration," oi 
" that he would lay it before his council and take such 
measures as would be best for hir service." Thus the 
cortes adjourned in ignorance of the fate of theii 
petitions. Even when he announced his assent, as it 
was left to him to prescribe the terms of the law, it 
might be more or less conformable to those of the 
petirion. The cortes having been dismissed, there was 

"t See the " Pragniaticas del Reyno," flrsl priolid at Alcali de 
' HenATca, at the close of Isabella's retgn, in 1503. Iliis &inoux col- 
lecdon wai almost wholly made up of the ordinances of Ferdinand 
■im) Isabella. After pa^ng ihraogh several editions, it ms finally 
abMitwd In the " Nuevn R-copilacion" of Philip the Second. 



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400 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

no redress to be obtained if the law did not express 
their views, nor could any remonstrance be presented 
by that body until their next session, usually three 
years later. The practice esUblished by Charles the 
Fifth, of postponing the presenting of petitions till the 
supplies had been voted, and the immediate adjourn- 
ment of the legislature afterwards, secured an absolute 
authority to the princes of the house of Austria, that 
made a fearful diange in the ancient constitution of 
Castile. 

Yet the meetings of the cortes, shorn as that body 
was of its ancient privileges, were not without important 
benefits to the nation. None could be better acquainted 
than the deputies with the actual wants and wishes of 
their constituents. It was a manifest advantage for the 
king to receive this information. It enabled him to 
take the course best suited to the interests of the people, 
to which he would naturally be inclined when he did 
not regard them as conflicting with his own. Even 
when he did, the strenuous support of their own views 
by the commons might compel him to modify his 
measures. ^Jowever_absoli^c the monarch, he would 
naturally shrink from pursuing a policy so odious to 
the~ people that, if persevered in, it might convert 
remonstrance HilD downrtght r esist ance. 

TTie fr eedom of discussion a mong the deputies is 
attested by the independent tone with which in their 
petitions they denounce the manifold abuses in thef 
state. It is h onoralile^to _Phi]i p that he should not. 
have attempted to stifle this freedom o Mebat^ _ t hough 
perhaps ih's may Be more correctly referred to his 
policy, which rp?.de him willing to leave this safety 



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THE GUARDS OF CASTILE. 401 

valve Open for the passions of the people. He may 
have been content to flatter them with the image of 
power, conscious that he alone retained the substance 
of it. However this may have been, the good effect 
of the exercise of these rights, imperfect as they were, 
by the third estate, must be highly estimated. The 
fact o f being called together to cons ult on public_afiaiis 

gave the people a cons i Herarinn in l;hfirnw^ l Ryp*; which 

r aised them far above the .abject conditioa-Qf tbesub- 
jects of an Eastern despoCisHl- - It cherished in them 
tliat ioveofinciependence which was their birthright, 
inherited from their ancestors, and thus maintained in 
their bosoms those lof^y sentiments which were the 
characteristics of the humbler classes of the Spaniards 
beyond those of any other nation in Christendom. 

One feature was wanting to complete the picture 
of absolute monarchy. This was a standing army, — a 
thing hitherto unknown in Spain. There was, indeed, 
an immense force kept on foot in the time of Charles 
the Fifth, and many of the troops were Spaniards. But 
they were stationed abroad, and were intended solely 
for foreign enterprises. It is to Philip's time thai we 
are to refer the first germs of a permanenj^ military 
establish'inmit, dKlgntxl Vi nriamtain order and obedi- 
ence at home. ' 

The levies raised for this purpose amounted to twenty 
companies of men-at-arms, which, with the complement 
of four or live followers to each lance, made a force of 
some strength. It was further swelled by five thousand 
ginetei, or light cavalry," These corps were a heavy 
charge on the crown. They were called " the Guards 
** Rebuone di Comarini, MS. 



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4oa DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

of Castile." The men-at-anns, in particular, were an 
object of great care, and were under admirable disci- 
pline. Even Philip, who had little relish for military 
affairs, was in the habit of occasionally reviewing them 
in person. In addition to these troops there was a body 
of thirty thousand militia, whom the king could caU 
into the field when necessary. A corps of some six- 
teen hmidred horsemen patrolled the southern coasts 
of Andalusia, to guard the country from invasion by 
the African Moslems; and garrisons established in 
fortresses along the frontiers of Spain, both north and 
south, completed a permanent force for the defence of 
the kingdom against domestic insurrection, as well as 
foreign invauon. 



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£ OF AUSTRIA. 



D,a,l,zc.bvG00gIe 



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CHAPTER II. 

DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 



A REVIEW of the polity of Castile would be incom- 
plete withouta notice of the ecclesiastical order, which 
may well be supposed to have stood pre-eminent in 
such a country and under such a monarch as Philip 
the Second. Indeed, not only did that prince present 
himself before the world as the great champion of the 
Faith, but he seemed ever solicitous in private life to 
display his zeal for religion and its ministers. Many 
anecdotes are told of him in connection with this. 
On one occasion, seeing a young girl going within the 
railing of the altar, he rebuked her, saying, "Where 
the priest enters is no place either forme or you.'" A 
cavalier who had given a blow to a canon of Toledo he 
sentenced to death.* 

Under his protection and princely patronage, the 
Church reached its most palmy state. Colleges and 
convents — in short, religious institutions of every kind 
— were scattered broadcast over the land. The good 
fathers loved pleasant and picturesque sites for their 

• "Vm nl yo Doavemoa de lubir donde !oj Sacerdotra. " EicbM 
J HechM de Phdipe It., p. gG. 

• Cabrera, Pillpc Segundo, p. 894. 



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f 



404 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

dwellings ; and the traveller, as he journeyed through the 
country, was surprised by the number of stately edifices 
which crowned the hill-tops or rested on their slopes, 
surrounded by territories that spread out for many a 
league over meadows and cultivated fields and pasture- 
!and. 

The secular clergy, at least the higher dignitaries, 
were so well endowed as sometimes to eclipse the 
grandees in the pomp of their establishments. In the 
time of Ferdinand and Isabella, the archbishop of To- 
ledo held jurisdiction over fifteen principal towns and 
a great number of villages. His income amounted to 
full eighty thousand ducats a year,' In Philip's time 
the income of the archbishop of Seville amounted to 
the same sum, while that of the see of Toledo had 
risen to two hundred thousand ducats, nearly twice as 
much as that of the richest grandee in the Icingdom.* 
In power and opulence the primate of Spain ranked 
next in Christendom to the pope. 

The great source of all this wealth of the ecclesias- 
tical order in Castile, as in most other cotmtries, was 
the hen gfactinns an d b eques ts of the pious. — of those, 
more especially, whose piety had been deferred till 
the close of life, when, anxious to make amends for past 
delinquencies, they bestowed the more freely that it 
was at the expense of their heirs. As what was thus 
bequeathed was locked up by entail, the constantly 
accumulating property of the Church had amounted 
in Philip's time, if we may take the assertion of the 
cones, to more than one-half of the landed property 



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THE CLERGY. 405 

in the kingdom.* Thus the burden of providing for 
the expenses of the state fell with increased heaviness 
on the commons. Alienations in mortmain formed 
the subject of one of their earliest remonstrances after 
Pliilip's accession, but without effect ; and, though the 
same petition was urged in very plain language at al- 
most every succeeding session, the king still answered 
that it was not expedient to make any change in the 
existing laws. Besides his good will to the eccle- 
siastical order, Philip was occupied with the costly 
construction of the Escorial; and he had probably 
no mind to see the streams of public bounty, which 
had hitherto flowed so freely into the reservoirs of the 
Church, thus suddenly obstructed, when they were so 
much needed for his own infant institution. , 

While Philip was thus willing to exalt the religioual 
order, already far too powerful, he was careful that it\ 
should never gain such a height as would enable it to J 
overtop the royal authority. Both in the Church and""^ 
in the council, — for they were freely introduced into 
the councils, — theologians were ever found the most 
devoted servants of the crown. Indeed, it was on the 
crown that they were obliged to rest all their hopes of 
preferment. 

Philip perfectly understood that the control of the 
clergy must be lodged with that power which had the , 
right of nomination to benefices. The RomMi see, in [ 
its usual spirit of encroachment, had long claimed the I 
exercise of this right in Castile, as it had done in other ) 
European states. The great battle with the Church 
was fought in the time of Isabella the Catholic. For- 
i Lafuenle, Historia de ESpalla, torn. xir. p. 41& 



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4o6 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

tunatety, the sceptre was held by a sovereign whose 
loyalty to the Faith was beyond suspicion. From this 
hard struggle she came off victorious ; and the govern- 
ment of Castile henceforth retained possession of the im- 
portant prerogative of appointing to vacant benefices. 

Philip, with all his deference to Rome, was not a 
man to relinquish any of the prerogatives of the crown. 
A difficulty arose under Pius the Fifth, who contended 
that he still had the right, possessed by former popes, 
of nominating to ecclesiastical offices in Milan, Naples, 
and Sicily, the Italian possessions held by Spain. He 
complained bitterly of the conduct of the councils in 
those states, which refused to allow the publication of 
his bulls without the royal exequatur. Philip, in mild 
terms, expressed his desire to maintain the most ami- 
cable relations with the see of Rome, provided he waa 
not required to compromise the interests of his crown. 
At the same time he intimated his surprise that his 
holiness should take exceptions at his exercise of the 
rights of his predecessors, to many of whom the 
Church was indebted for the most signal services. 
The pope was well aw^ic of. tbe..iinportaiic«of ibmi»- 
tajning^ a gpod underfitanding with so "devoted a son 
of. the Church; and Philip was allowed to remaio 
henceforth in undisturbed possession of this inestimable 
prerogative.* 

The powers thus vested in the king he exercised with 
great discretion. With his usual facilities for informa- 
tion, he made himself acquainted with the characters 
of the clergy in the different parts of his dominions. 

* Lafiiente, Hisloria de EspaBa, torn. idll. p. 36). — Cabrera, Flllpe 
S^undo, pp. 43a, 433. 



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THE CLBRGY. 407 

He was so accurate in his knowledge that he was fre- 
quently able to detect an error or omission in the in- 
formation he received. To one who had been giving 
him an account of a certain ecclesiastic, he remarked, 
"Yon have told me nothing of his amours." Thus 
perfectly apprised of the characters of the candidates, 
he was prepared, whenever a vacancy occurred, to fill 
the place with a suitable incumbent.' 

It was his habit, before preferring an individual to a 
high ofiice, to have proof of his powers by trying them 
first in some subordinate station. In his selection he 
laid much stress on rank, for the influence it carried 
with it. Yet frequently, when well satisfied of tht 
merits of the parties, he promoted those whose humble 
condition had made them little prepared for such an 
elevation.' There was no more effectual way to secure 
his favor than to show a steady resistance to the usurpa- 
tions of Rome. It was owing, in part at least, to the 
refusal of Quiroga, the bishop of Cuen^, to publish a 
papal bull without the royal assent, that he was raise*:! 
to the highest dignity in the kingdom, as archbishop 
of Toledo. Philip chose to have a suitable acknowledg- 
ment from the person on whom he conferred a favor; 
and once when an ecclesiastic, whom he had made a 
bishop, went to take possession of hjs see without first 
expressing his gratitude, the king sent for him t>ack, to 

f Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, lib. xi. cap. 11 ; lib. xil. cap. ai. — Rel&- 
rianeADon., 1588, MS. 

* " Otras veies preienlaba paia. Oblspos Caaonlgos tan particulsra 
1 pmblteros Ian apartados no solo de tal eipemn^a, mas pensamiento 
en ri mismoE, i en la comun opinion, que la cedula de su prejentacioa 
DO admilla su teielo de ser engaflados b buTla(|<a. Eligia i quien no 
pedia, i mereci*." Cabrera, Filipe Segundo, p. S91, 



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4o8 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

remind him of his duty.* Such an acknowledgment 
was in the nature of a homage rendered to his mastei 
on his preferment. 

Thus, gratitude for the past and hopes for the future 
were the strong ties which bound every prelate to his 
sovereign. In a dif ference with the Roman see, the 
Caslilian churc hman was sure to J>e found on the side 

of the ■;nvfrpi£n rather fhan nn that nf thp pontiff In 

his own troubles, in tike manner, it was to the king, 
and not to the pope, that he was to turn for relief. 
The king, on the other hand, when pressed by those 
embarrassments with which he was too often sur- 
rounded, looked for aid to the clei^, who for the 
most part rendered it cheerfully and in liberal measure. 
Nowhere were the clergy so heavily burdened as in 
Spain." It was computed that at least one-third of 
their revenues was given to the king. Thus com- 
pletely were the different orders, both spiritual and 
temporal, throughout the monarchy, under the control ' 
of the sovereign. 

A few pages back, while touching on alienations in 
mortmwn, I had occasion to allude to the Escorial, 
that " eighth wonder of the world," as it is proudly 
styled by the Spaniards. There can be no place more 
proper to give an account of this extraordinary edifice 
than the part of the narrative in which 1 have been 
desirous to throw as much light as possible on the 
character and occupations of Philip. The Escorial 
engrossed the leisure of more than thirty years of his 

• Cabrera, Felipe Segundo, lib. li. cap. ii. 

" Relaiione di CoiiMiinl, MS.— Ruike, Ottonuo and Spaiuih Era- 
pin*, p. 6i. 



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THE ESCORIAL. 409 

life ; it reflects in a peculiar manner his tastes and the 
austere character of his mind ; and, whatever criticism 
may be passed on it as a work of art, it cannot be 
denied that, if every other vestige of his reign were to 
be swept away, that wonderful structure would of itself 
suffice to show the grandeur of his plans and the extent 
of his resources. 

The common tradition that Philip built the Escorial 
in pursuance of a vow which he made at the time of 
the great battle of St. Quentin, the tenth of August, 
1557, has been rejected by modem critics, on the ground 
that contemporary writers, and among them the his' 
torians of the convent, mate no mention of the fact. 
But a recently discovered document leaves little doubt 
that such a vow was actually made." However this 
may have been, it is certain that the king designed to 
commemorate the event by this structure, as is intimated 
by its dedication to St. Lawrence, the martyr on whose 
day the victory was gained. The name given to the 
place was El Sitio de San Loren%o el Real. But the 
monastery was better known from the hamlet near 
which it stood, — El Eseurial, or El Escorial, — which 
latter soon became the orthography generally adopted 
by the Castilians." 

B Tbe docomcDt alluded to U a letter, wjlhout date or signature, 
but in the liandwritiag of the sixteenth century, and purporting to be 
written by n penon intrusted witb the task of drafting the necexsaij 
legal instruments for the foundation of the convent. He inquirei 
whether in the preamble he shall make mention of his majesty's vow. 
" Ei velo qui S. M. lujo, si S. M. no lo quiere poner ni declarar, 
trien puede, porque no hay pnra que ; pero li S. M. quisiere que se 
declare en las esmituras, avEsemelo v. m." Documentos inMitos, torn. 
urUi. p. 567. 

B Eiamplet equally aodent of both fbiau of spelling the name nuv 
Philip.— Vol. IIL-s 35 



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^lO DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

The motives which, after all, operated probably most 
powerfully on Philip, had no connection with the 
battle of St. Quentin. His father the emperor had 
directed by his will that his bones should remain at 
Yuste until a more suitable place should be provided 
for them by his son. The building now to be erected 
was designed expressly as a mausoleum for Philip's 
parents, as well as for their descendants of the royal 
line of Austria. But the erection of a religious house 
on a magnificent scale, that would proclaim to the 
world his devotion to the Faith, was the predominant 
'idea in the mind of Philip. It was, moreover, a part 
of his scheme to combine in the plan a palace for him- 
self; for, with a taste which he may be said to have 
inherited from his father, he loved to live in the sacred 
shadows of the cloister. These ideas, somewhat incon- 
gruous as they may seem, were fully carried out by the 
erection of an edifice dedicated at once to the three- 
fold purpose of a palace, a monastery, and a tomb.** 

Soon after the king's return to Spain, he set about 
carrying his plan into execution. The site which, after 
careful examination, he selected for the building, was 
among the mountains of the Guadarrama, on the bor- 
ders of New Castile,"* about eight leagues northwest of 
be fbtmd; though Eiceriat, now universal in tbe Castillan. Kems to 
have been also the more common from the first. The Yford is derived 
from uarin, the dross of iron-mines, found near the spot. See Ford, 
Handbook for Spain (3d edition), p. 751. 

■J A letter of the royal founder, published by Siguenja, enumerates 
the olqects to which the new building was to he specially devoted. 
Historia de la Orden de San Geronimo, torn. iii. p. 534, 

■4 " The E^corial is placed by some geographers in Old Castile ; 
tnit the division of the provinoes b carried on the crest of the Strrm 
Vhlch riles behind it." Ford, Handbook for Spain, p. 730. 



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THE ESCORIAL. 411 

Madrid. The healthiness of the place and its conve- 
nient distance from the capital combined with the stem 
and solitary character of the region, so congenial to his 
taste, to give it the preference over other spots which 
might have found more favor with persons of a differ- 
ent nature. Encompassed by rude and rocky hills, 
which sometimes soar to the gigantic elevatioii of 
mountains, it seemed to be shut out completely from 
the world. The vegetation was of a thin and stunted 
growth, seldom spreading out into the luxuriant foliage 
of the lower regions; and the winds swept down from 
the neighboring sierra with the violence of a hurricane. 
Yet the air was salubrious, and the soil was nourished 
by springs of the purest water. To add to its recom- 
mendations, a quarry, close at hand, of excellent stone 
somewhat resembling granite in appearance, readily 
supplied the materials for building, — a circumstance, 
considering the vastness of the work, of no little im- 
portance. 

The architect who furnished the plans, and on whom 
the king relied for superintending their execution, was 
Juan Bautista de Toledo. He was bom in Spain, 
and, early discovering uncommon talents for his pro- 
fession, was sent to Italy. Here he studied the prin- 
ciples of his art, under the great masters who were . 
ihen filling their native land with those monuments 
of genius that furnished the best study to the artist. 
Toledo imbibed their s)xrit, and under their tuition 
acquired that simple, indeed severe, taste which formed 
a contrast to the prevalent tone of Spanish architec- 
ture, but which, happily, found favor with his royal 
patron. 



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41 J DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

Before a stone of the new edifice was laid, Philip 
had taken cire to provide himself with the tenants who 
were to occupy it. At a general chapter of the Jerony- 
mile fraternity, a prior was chosen for the convent of 
the Escorial, which was to consist of fifty members, 
soon increased to double that number. Philip had 
been induced to give the preference to the Jeronymitc 
order, partly from their general reputation for ascetic 
piety, and in part from the regard shown for them by 
his father, who had chosen a convent of that order aa 
the place of his last retreat. The monks were speedily 
transferred to the village of the Escorial, where they 
rontinued to dwell until accommodations were prepared 
for them in the magnificent pile which they were thence- 
forth to occupy. 

Their temporary habitation was of the meanest kind, 
like most of the buildings in the hamlet. It was with- 
out window or chimney, and the rain found its way 
through the dilapidated roof of the apartment which 
they used as a chapel, so that they were obliged to pro- 
tect themselves by a coverlet stretched above their 
heads. A rude altar was raised at one end of the 
chapel, over which was scrawled on the wall with char- 
coal the figure of a crucifix.** 

The king, on his visits to the place, was lodged iu 
the house of the curate, in not much better repair than 
the other dwellings in the hamlet. While there he was 
punctual in his attendance at mass, when a mde seat 
was prepared for him near the choir, consisting of a 

1 SiguenfS., Hisl. de la OrdcD de San Geianima, torn. iii. p. 549. 
— Memorias di: Fray Juan de San Geionima, Documeutos iniditos 



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THE ESCORIAL. 



4»3 



three-legged stool, defended from vulgar eyes by a screen 
of such old and tattered cloth that the inquisitive spec- 
tator might without difficulty see him through the holes 
in it." He was so near the choir that the monk who 
stood next to him could hardly avoid being brought 
into contact with the royal person. The Jeronymite 
who tells the story assures us that Brother Antonio 
used to weep aa he declared that more than once, when 
he cast a liirtive glance at the monarch, he saw his eyes 
filled with tears. "Such," says the good father, "were 
the devout and joyful feelings with which the king, as 
he gazed on the poverty around him, meditated his 
lofty plans for converting this poverty into a scene of 
grandeur more worthy of the worship to be performed 
there.""' 

The brethren were much edified by the humility 
shown by Philip when attending the services in this 
wretched cabin. They often told the story of his one 
day coming late to matins, when, unwilling to inter- 
rupt the services, he quietly took his seat by the en- 
trance, on a rude bench, at the upper end of which a 
peasant was sitting. He remained some time before 

" " Tenia de ordinario una banquetilla de lea pies, bastlsima f 
KTOsera, por sllla, y cuando iba d misa potque estuviese con algun 
decencia se le ponia un pallo viejo fninc& de Alnuguer el conlador. 
que ya dc gastado y deshilado hacia harto lugar por sus agujcros £ 
los que queriao ver i, la Persona Real." Memorias de Fray Juao de 
San Geronimo. Documenlos inidilos, torn. vii. p. as. 

f " Jurdbame muchai veces liorando el dicbo Tray Anlonlo que 
mncluu reces aliando caulamenle los ojos vi6 correr poi los de S. M. 
ligrinuw ; tanla era su devocion meiclada eon el alegria de verae en 
nquella inbreia y ver iiis esto aquella alta idea que en su menie tnua 
de la giandeza k que per.saba levantar aquella pequi flez del divino 
cullo." Ibid., ubl supra. 



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4<4 



DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 



his presence was observed, when the monks conducted 
him to his tribune." 

On the twenty-third of April, 1563, the first stone 
of the monastery was laid. On the twentieth of August 
following, the corner-stone of the church was also laid, 
with still greater pomp and solemnity. The royal con- 
fessor, the bishop of Cuen^, arrayed in his pontificals, 
presided over the ceremonies. The king was present, 
and laid the stone with his own hand)). The principal 
nobles of the court were in attendance, and there was 
a great concour^ of spectators, both ecclesiastics and 
laymen ; the solemn services were concluded by the 
brotherhood, who joined in an anthem of thanksgiving 
and praise to the Almighty, to whom so glorious a 
monument was to be reared in this mountain -wilder- 
ness.* 

The rude sierra now swarmed with life. The ground 
was covered with tents and huts. The busy hum of 
labor mingled with the songs of the laborers, which, 
from their various dialects, betrayed the different, and 
oftentimes distant, provinces from which they had come. 
In this motley host the greatest order and decorum pre- 
vailed ; nor were the peaceful occupations of the day 
interrupted by any indecent brawls. 

As the work advanced, Philip's visits to the Escorial 
were longer and more frequent. He had always shown 
his love for the retirement of the cloister, by passing 
some days of every year in it. Indeed, he was in the 

■> " 1 Paia levanlar tanu f^brio mencEter eran actios de humildsd 
tan piofundal" Memorias de Fray Juan de San Geronimo, Docu 
m«nlos in^ilDS. loin. vli. p. 93. 

*> Ilnd-.p. 35. etieq. — Sigucn(a, Hisl.dslaOrdendeSanGeronimu, 



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THE ESCORIAL. 415 

habit of keeping Holy Week not far from the scene of 
his present labors, at the convent of Guisando. In his 
present monastic retreat he bad the additional interest 
afforded by the contemplation of the great work, which 
seemed to engage as much of his thoughts as any of 
the concerns of government- 
Philip had given a degree of attention to the study 
of the fine arts seldom found in persons of his condi- 
tion. He was a connoisseur in painting, and, above 
all, in architecture, making a careful study of its prin- 
ciples, and occasionally furnishing designs with his own 
hand." No prince of his time left behind him so many 
proofs of his taste and magnificence in building. The 
royal mint at Segovia, the hunting-seat of the Pardo, 
the pleasant residence of Aranjuez, the alcazar of Ma- 
drid, the " Anneria Real," and other noble works which 
adorned his infant capital, were either built or greatly 
embellished by him. The land was covered with struc- 
tures, both civil and religious, which rose under the 
royal patronage. Churches and convents — the latter 
in lamentable profusion — constantly met the eye of the 
traveller. The general style of their execution was 
simple in the extreme. Some, like the great cathedral 
of Valladolid, of more pretension, but still showing 
the same austere character in their designs, furnished 
excellent models of architecture to counteract the mere- 
tricious tendencies of the age. Structures of a diiferent 

■> " Tenia lanU deslrefa en dispODer las leaf as do Palacids, Caslillos, 
Jardines. y otras coaas, que quando Francisco de Mora mi "Ho Trj- 
fador mayor sayo, y Juan de Herrera su Antecessor 1e traian la pri- 
meia plonta, assi mandava quilar. d poner, 6 mudar, como & fuera 
un Vltrutda." IXchos y Heches de Phelipr II., p. igi. 



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4i« DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

kind from these were planted by Philip along the fron- 
tiers in the north and on the southern coasts of the 
kingdom \ and the voyager in the Mediterranean be- 
held fortress after fortress crowning the heights above 
the shore, for its defence against the Barbary corsair. 
Nor was the king's passion for building confined to 
Spain. Wherever his armies penetrated in the semi- 
civilized regions of the New World, the march of the 
conqueror was sure to be traced by the ecclesiastical 
and military structures which rose in his rear. 

Fortunately, similarity of taste led to the most per- 
fect harmony between the monarch and his architect 
in their conferences on the great work which was to 
crown the architectural glories of Philip's reign. The 
king inspected the details, and watched over every step 
in the progress of the building, with as much care as 
Toledo himself. In order to judge of the effect from 
a distance, he was in the habit of climbing the moun- 
tains at a spot about half a league from the monastery, 
where a kind of natural chair was formed by the crags. 
Here, with his spy-glass in his hand, he would sit for 
hours and gaze on the complicated structure growing 
up below. The place is still known as the "king's 
seat."" 

It was certainly no slight proof of the deep interest 
which Philip took in the work that he was content to 
exchange his palace at Madrid for a place that afforded 
him no better accommodations than the poverty-stricken 
village of the Escorial. In 1571 he made an important 
change in these accommodations, by erecting a chapel 
which might aJford the monks a more decent house of 

™ Lafuente, Historia de Rspafia. lorn. xlii. p. 953. 



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THE ESCOSIAL. 



417 



worship than their old weather-beaten hovel ; and with 
this he. combined a comfortable apartment for himself. 
In these new quarters he passed still more of his time 
in cloistered seclusion than he had done before. Far 
from confining his attention to a supervision of the 
Escorial, he brought his secretaries and his papers along 
with him, read here his despatches from abroad, and 
kept up a busy correspondence with all parts of his 
dominions. He did four times the amount of work 
here, says a Jeronymite, that he did in the same num- 
ber of days in the capital." He used to boast that, 
thus hidden from the world, with a little bit of paper, 
he niled over both hemispheres. That he did not 
always wisely nile is proved by more than one of his 
despatches relating to the affairs of Flanders, which 
issued from this consecrated place. Here he received 
accounts of the proceedings of his heretic subjects in the 
Netherlands, and of the Morisco insurgents in Granada. 
And as he pondered on their demolition of church and 
convent, and their desecration of the most holy sym- 
bols of the Catholic faith, he doubtless felt a proud 
satisfaction in proving his own piety to the world by 
the erection of the most sumptuous edifice ever dedi- 
cated to the Cross. 

In 1577 the Escorial was so far advanced towards 
completion as to afford accommodations not merely for 
Philip and his personal attendants, but for many of the 
court, who were in the habit of spending some time 
there with the king during the summer. On one of 

" '* Sabeae de derto que SC negociava aqui mas en un dia que en 
Undrid en quairo." Siguen9a, Hist, de la. Orden de Sao GeroniiaOk 
toin. iii. p. 575. 



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4i8 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

these occasions an accident occurred which had nearly 
been attended with most disastrous consequences to the 
building. 

A violent thunder-storm was raging in the mountains, 
and the lightning struck one of the great towers of the 
monastery. In a short time the upper portion of the 
building was in a blaze. So much of it, fortunately, 
was of solid materials that the lire made slow progress. 
But the difficulty of bringing water to bear on it was 
extreme. It was eleven o'clock at night when the fire 
broke out, and in the orderly household of Philip all 
had retired to rest. They were soon roused by the 
noise. The king took his station on the opposite 
tower, and watched with deep anxiety the progress of 
the flames. The duke of Alva was one among the 
guests. Though sorely afflicted with the gout at the 
time, he wrapped his dressing-gown about him and 
climbed to a spot which aiforded a still nearer view of 
the conflagration. Herle the "good duke" at once as- 
sumed the command, and gave his orders with as much 
promptness and decision as on the field of battle," 

All the workmen, as well as the neighboring peas- 
antry, were assembled there. The men showed the 
same spirit of subordination which they had shown 
throughout the erection of the building. The duke's 
orders were implicitly obeyed ; and more than one 
instance is recorded of daring self-devotion among the 
*i " El buen Duque de Alba, aunque su vejei y gola no le daban 
hiEar, se subi6 d lo alia de la lorre d dar inlmo y esfueno i. los oliciar- 
left y genic ; . . . y esto lo hacia S. E. como diesiro capitan y como 
quleu M habiavisio en otros mayores peligros en laguerra." Memo- 
rtM da Pray Juan de San Geroiumo, Documenlos in^tos, torn. lii, 
p. 197. 



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THE ESCORIAL. 419 

irorkmen, who toiled as if conscious they were under 
the eye of their sovereign. The tower trembled under 
the fury of the flames; and the upper portion of it 
threatened every moment to fall in ruins. Great fears 
were entertained that it would crush the hospital, situ- 
ated in that part of the monastery. Fortunately, it 
fell in an opposite direction, carrying with it a splen- 
did chime of bells that was lodged in it, but doing no 
injury to the spectators. The loss which bore most 
heavily on the royal heart was that of sundry inestima- 
ble relics which perished in the flames. But Philip's 
sorrow was mitigated when he learned that a bit of 
the true cross, and the right arm of St. Lawrence, the 
martyred patron of the Escorial, were rescued from 
the flames. At length, by incredible efforts, the fire, 
which had lasted till six in the morning, was happily 
extinguished, and Philip withdrew to his chamber, 
where his first act, we are told, was to return thanks 
to the Almighty for the preservation of the building 
consecrated to his service. •* - 

The king was desirous that as many of the materials 
as possible for the structure should be collected from 
his own dominions. These were so vast, and so various 
in their productions, that they furnished nearly every 
article required for the construction of the edifice, as 
well as for its interior decoration. The gray stone of 
which its walls were formed was drawn from a neigh- 
boring quarry. It was called berroquefia, — a stone 
bearing a resemblance to granite, though not so hard. 
The blocks hewn from the quarries, and dressed there. 



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4JO DOMMSTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

were of sticb magnitude as sometimes to require forty 
or fifty yoke of oxen to drag them. The jasper came 
from the neighborhood of Burgo de Osma. The more 
delicate marbles, of a great variety of colors, were 
furnished by the mountain -ranges in the south of the 
Peninsula. The costly and elegant fabrics were many 
of them supplied by native artisans. Such were the 
damasks and velvets of Granada. Other cities, as Ma- 
drid, Toledo, and Saragossa, showed the proficiency of 
native art in curious manufactures of bronze and iron, 
and occasionally of the more precious metals. 

Yet Philip was largely indebted to his foreign posses- 
sions, especially those in Italy and the Low Countries, 
for the embellishment of the interior of the edifice, 
which, in its sumptuous style of decoration, presented a 
contrast to the stem simplicity of its exterior. Milan, 
so renowned at that period for its fine workmanship in 
steel, gold, and precious stones, contributed many ex- 
quisite specimens of art. The walls were clothed with 
got^ous tapestries from the Flemish looms. Spanish 
convents vied with each other in furnishing embroid- 
eries for the altars. Even the rude colonies in the 
New World had their part in the great work, and the 
American forests supplied their cedar and ebony and 
richly-tinted woods, which displayed all their magical 
brilliancy of color imder the hands of the Castilian 
workman.^ 

Though desirous as far as possible to employ the 
products of his own dominions and to encourage native 

t Siguenfa, Hist, de la Ordea d< 
Dichos y Hecfaoc de Pbelipe II., p 
torn. liv. p. 4a7. 



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THE ESCORIAL, 411 

art, in one particular he resorted almost exclusively to 
foreigners. The oil-paintings and frescos which pro- 
fusely decorated the walls and ceilings of the Escorial 
were executed by artists drawn chiefly from Italy, whose 
schools of design were still in their glory. But, of all 
living painters, Titian was the one whom Philip, like 
his father, most delighted to honor. To the king's 
generous patronage the world is indebted for some of 
that great master's noblest productions, which found a 
fitting place on the walls of the Escorial. 

The prices which Philip paid enabled him to com- 
mand the services of the most eminent artists. Many 
anecdotes are told of his munificence. He was, how- 
ever, a severe critic. He did not prematurely disclose 
his opinion. But when the hour came, the painter had 
sometimes the mortification to find the work he had 
executed, it may be with greater confidence than skill, 
peremptorily rejected, or at best condemned to some 
obscure corner of the building. This was the fate of 
an Italian artist, of much more pretension than power, 
who, after repeated failures according to the judgment 
of the king, — which later critics have not reversed, — 
was dismissed to his own country. But even here 
Philip dealt in a magnanimous way with the unlucky 
painter. "It is not Zuccaro's fault," he said, "but 
that of the persons who brought him here ;" and when 
he sent him back to Italy he gave him a considerable 
Bum of money in addition to his large salary." 

Before this magnificent pile, in a manner the creation 
of his own taste, Philip's nature appeared to expand, 
and to discover some approach to those generous 
* Stirling, Annals o( the Artists or Spain, (om. i. p. 311. 
Philip.— Vol. 111. 36 



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433 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

Bjnnpatlues for humanity which elsewhere seem to have 
been denied him. He would linger for hours while he 
watched the labors of the artist, making occasional 
criticisms, and laying his hand familiarly on his 
shoulder." He seemed to put off the coldness and 
reserve which formed so essential a part of his charac- 
ter. On one occasion, it is said, a stranger, having 
come into the Escorial when the lung was there, 
mistook him for one of the officials, and asked him 
some questions about the pictures. Philip, without 
undeceiving the man, humored his mistake, and good- 
naturedly undertook the part of cictrone, by answering 
his inquiries and showing him some of the objects most 
worth seeing.* Similar anecdotes have been told of 
others. What is strange is that Philip should have 
acted the part of the good-natured man. 

In 1584 the masonry of the Escorial was completed. 
Twenty-one years had elapsed since the first stone 
of the monastery was laid. This certainly must be 
regarded as a short period for the erection of so 
stupendous a pile. St. Peter's church, with which one 
naturally compares it as the building nearest in size 
and magnificence, occupied more than a century in 
its erection, which spread over the reigns of at least 
eighteen popes. But the Escorial, with the exception 
of the subterraneous chapel constructed by Philip the 
Fourth for the burial-place of the Spanish princes, was 
executed in the reign of one monarch. That monarch 
held in his hands the revenues of both the Old World 
and the New; and, as he gave in some sort a personal 



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THE ESCORIAL. 



433 



i^ipervision to the work, we may be sure that no one 
was allowed to sleep on his post. 

Yet the architect who designed the building was not 
permitted to complete it. Long before it was finished, 
the hand of Toledo had mouldered in the dust. By 
his death itrseemed that Philip had met with an ir- 
reparable loss. He felt it to be so himself, and with 
great distrust consigned the important task to Juan de 
Herrera, a young Asturian. But, though young, Her- 
rera had been formed on the best models ; for he was 
the favorite pupil of Toledo, and it soon appeared that 
be had not only imbibed the severe and elevated tastes 
of his master, but that his own genius fully enabled 
him to comprehend alt Toledo's great conceptions, and 
to carry them out as perfectly as that artist could have 
done himself. Philip saw with satisfaction that he had 
made no mistake in his selection. He soon conferred 
as freely with the new architect as he had done with his 
predecessor. He even showed him greater favor, set- 
tling on him a salary of a thousand ducats a year, and 
giving him an office in the royal household, and the 
cross of St. lago. Herrera had the happiness to com 
plete the Escorial. Indeed, he lived some six years 
after its completion. He left several works, both civil 
and ecclesiastical, which perpetuate his fame. But the 
Escorial is the monument by which his name, and that 
of his master, Toledo, have come down to posterity as 
those of the two greatest architects of whom Spain can 
boast. 

This is not the place for criticism on the architectural 
merits of the Escorial. Such criticism more properly 
belongs to a treatise on art. It has been my object 



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4*4 



DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 



simply to lay before the reader such an account of the 
execution of this great work as would enable him to 
form some idea of the object to which Philip devoted 
so large a portion of his time, and which so eminently 
reflected his peculiar cast of mind. 

Critics have greatly differed from each other in their 
judgments of the Escorial. Few foreigners have been 
found to acquiesce In the undiluted panegyric of those 
Castilians who pronounce it the eighth wonder of the 
world. •• Yet it cannot be denied that few foreigners 
are qualified to decide on the merits of a work, to judge 
of which correctly requires a perfect understajiding of 
the character of the country in which it was built, and 
of the monarch who built it. The traveller who gazes 
on its long lines of cold gray stone, scarcely broken by 
an ornament, feels a dreary sensation creeping over him, 
while he contrasts it with the lighter and more graceful 
edifices to which his eye has been accustomed. But he 
may read in this the true expression of the founder's 
character. Philip did not aim at the beautiful, much 
less at the festive and cheerful. The feelings which he 
desired to raise in the spectator were of that solemn, 
indeed sombre complexion which corresponded best 
with his own religious faith. 

Whatever defects may be charged on the Escorial, it 
is impossible to view it from a distance, and see the 
mighty pile as it emerges from the gloomy depths of 
the mountains, without feeling how perfectly it con- 
forms in its aspect to the wild and melancholy scenery 

■> One of its hislorians. Father Francisco de los Sanlos, styles It, on 
Ms tiile-page, " Unica Staraviila dtl Manda." Descripclon del Real 
Munasterio de San Loienio de el Escorial (Madrid, 1698 J, 



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THE ESCORIAL. 



435 



of the sierra. Nor can one enter the consecrated pre- 
cincts without confessing the genius of the place, and 
experiencing sensations of a mysterious awe as he wan- 
ders through the desolate halls, which fancy peoples 
with the solemn images of the past. 

The architect of the building was embarrassed by 
more than one difficulty of a very peculiar kind. It 
was not simply a monastery that he was to build. The 
same edifice, as we have seen, was to comprehend at 
once a convent, a palace, and a tomb. It was no easy 
problem to reconcile objects so discordant and infiise 
into them a common principle of unity. It b no re- 
proach to the builder that he did not perfectly succeed 
in this, and that the palace should impair the predomi- 
nant tone of feeling raised by the other parts of the 
structure, looking in fact like an excrescence, rather 
than an integral portion of the edifice. 

Another difhculty, of a more whimsical nature, im- 
posed on the architect, was the necessity of accommo- 
dating the plan of the building to the form of a gridiron, 
— as typical of the kind of martyrdom suffered by the 
patron saint of the Escorial. Thus, the long tines of 
cloisters, with their intervening courts, served for the 
bars of the instrument; the four lofty spires at the 
comers of the monastery represented its legs inverted ; 
and the palace, extending its slender length on the east, 
furnished the awkward handle. 

It is impossible for language to convey any adequate 
idea of a work of art. Yet architecture has this ad- 
vantage over the sister arts of design, that the mere 
statement of the dimensions helps us much in forming 
I conception of the work. A few of these dimensions 



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476 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

will serve to give an idea of the magnitude of the edi 
fice. They are reported to as by Los Santos, a Jerony- 
mite monk, who has left one of the best accounts of 
the Escorial. 

llie main building, or monastery, he estimates at 
•even hundred and forty Castiltan feet in length by five 
hundred and eighty in breadth. Its greatest height, 
measured to the central cross above the dome of the 
great church, b three hundred and fifteen feet. The 
whole circumference of the Escorial, including the 
palace, he reckons at two thousand nine hundred and 
eighty feet, or near three-fifths of a mile. The patient 
inquirer tells us there were no less than twelve thousand 
doors and windows in the building ; that the weight of 
the keys alone amounted to fifty arrobas, or twelve 
hundred and fifty pounds ; and, finally, that there were 
■ixty-eight fountains playing in the halb and courts of 
this enonnous pile." 

The cost of its construction and interior decoration, 
we are informed by Father Siguen^a, amounted to very 
near six millions of ducats.** Siguen^ was prior of 
the monastery, and had access, of course, to the best 
■ources of information. That he did not exaggerate, 
may be inferred from the fact that he was desirous to 
relieve the building from the imputation of any excess- 
ive expenditure incurred in its erection, — a common 
theme of complaint, it seems, and one that was urged 
with strong marlu of discontent by contemporary 
writers. Probably no single edifice ever contained 
tuch an amount and variety of inestimable treasures as 

■■ Los Sanlos. Descripcion del Escorial, foL il6. 

•* SiguRD^, Hilt, de la Oiden de San Geronimo, torn, iii, p. 86a, 



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THE ESCORIAL. 437 

the Escorial, — 50 many paintings and sculptures by the 
greatest masters, — so many articles of exquisite work- 
manship, composed of the most precious materials. It 
would be a mistake to suppose that when the building 
was finished the labors of Philip were at an end. One 
might almost say they were but begun. The casket 
was completed ; but the remainder of his days was to 
be passed in filling it with the rarest and richest gems. 
This was a labor never to be completed. It was to be 
bequeathed to his successors, who, with more or less 
taste, but with the revenues of the Indies at their dis- 
posal, continued to lavish them on the embellishment 
of the Escorial.' 

Philip the Second set the example. He omitted 
nothing which could give a value, real or imaginary, 
to his museum. He gathered at an immense cost sev- 
eral hundred cases of the bones of saints and martyrs, 
depositing them in rich silver shrines of elaborate 
workmanship. He collected four thousand volumes, 
in various languages, especially the Oriental, as the 
basis of the fine library of the E^orial. 

The core of successive princes, who continued to 

» The enlhusiasm of Fray Alonso de San Geronimo canies him so 
fcr that he does not hesitate to declare thai the Almighty owe> a debt 
of gratitude 10 Philip the Second for the dedication of so glorioua ■ 
itniciute to the Christian woishtp! " Elste Templo. Seilor. deve i 
Fllipo Segundo vueslra Grandexa; con que graiiiud le estari mir%n- 
do, en el Impireo, vueitra Divinidad I" — This language, so near akin 
to blasphemy as il would be thought in our day, occurs in a pane- 
fyric delivered at the Escorial on the occasion of a solemn feslival in 
honor of the hundredth anniversary of its foundation. A volume 
coiDpiled by Fray Luis de Sania Maria is filled with a particular ac- 
count of the ceremonies, under the title of " Oclava sagradamente 
cnlta, celebrada en la Ociava MaiaviUa," etc. (Madrid, i664,lblia). 



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4i8 DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAItf. 

Spend there a part of every year, preserved the palace- 
monastery and its contents from the rude touch of 
Time. But what the hand of Time iiad spared the 
hand of violence destroyed. The French, who in the 
early part of the present century swept like a horde of 
Vandals over the Peninsula, did not overtook the Es- 
corial. For in it they saw the monument designed to 
commemorate their own humiliating defeat. A body 
of dragoons under La Houssaye burst into the monas- 
tery in the winter of 1808 ; and the ravages of a few 
days demolished what it had cost years and the highest 
efforts of art to construct. The apprehension of simi- 
lar violence from the Carlists, in 1837, ied to the re- 
moval of the finest paintings to Madrid. The Escorial 
ceased to be a royal residence. Tenantless and unpro- 
tected, it was left to the fury of the blasts which swq»t 
down the hills of the Guadaxrama. 

The traveller who now visits the place will find its 
condition very different from what it was in the begin- 
ning of the century. The bare and mildewed walls 
no longer glow with the magical tints of Raphael and 
Titian and the sober pomp of the Castilian school. 
The exquisite specimens of art with which the halls 
were filled have been wantonly demolished, or more 
frequently pilfered for the sake of the rich materials. 
The monks, so long the guardians of the place, have 
shared the fate of their brethren elsewhere since the 
suppression of religious houses, and their venerable 
forms have disappeared. Silence and solitude reign 
throughout the courts, undisturbed by any sound save 
that of the ceaseless winds, which seem to be ever 
chanting theii melancholy dirge over the faded glorin 



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QUEEN ANNE. 419 

cf the Escorial. There is little now to remind one of 
the palace or of the monastery. Of the three great 
objects to which the edifice was devoted, one alone 
survives, — that of a mausoleum for the royal line of 
Castile. The spirit of the dead broods over the place, 
— of the sceptred dead, who He in the same dark 
chamber where they have lain for centuries, uncon- 
scious of the changes that have been going on all 
around them. 

During the latter half of Philip's reign he was in the 
habit of rep^ring with his court to the Escorial and 
passing here a part of the summer. Hither he brought 
his young queen, Anne of Austria, — when the gloomy 
pile assumed an unwonted appearance of animation. 
In a previous chapter the reader has seen some notice 
of his preparations for his marriage with that princess, 
in less than two years after he had consigned the lovely 
Isabella to the tomb. Anne had been already plighted 
to the unfortunate Don Carlos. Philip's marriage with 
her afforded him the melancholy triumph of a second 
time supplanting his son. She was his niece; for the 
Empress Mary, her mother, was the daughter of Charles 
the Fifth. There was, moreover, a great disparity in 
their years; for the Austrian princess, having been 
bom in Castile during the regency of her parents, in 
IS49, was at this time but twenty-one years of age,— 
less than half the age of Philip. It does not appear 
that her father, the Emperor Maximilian, made any 
objection to the match. If he felt any, he was too 
politic to prevent a marriage which would place his 
daughter on the throne of the most potent monarchy 
in Europe. 



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DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 



It was arranged that the princess should proceed X3 
Spain by the way of the Netherlands. In September, 
1570, Anne bade a. last adieu to her father's court, and 
with a stately retinue set out on her long journey. On 
entering Flanders she was received with gieat pomp by 
the duke of Alva, at the head of the Flemish nobles. 
Soon after her arrival. Queen Elizabeth despatched a 
squadron of eight vessels, with offers to transport her 
to Spain, and an invitation for her to visit England 
00 her way. These offers were courteously declined; 
and the German princess, escorted by Count Bossu, 
c^tain -general of the Flemish navy, with a gallant 
squadron, was fortunate In reaching the place of her 
destination, after a voyage of less than aweek. On 
the third of October she landed at Santander, on the 
northern coast of Spain, where she found the arch- 
bishop of Seville and the duke of Bejar, with a brilliant 
train of followers, waiting to receive her. 

Under this escort, Anne was conducted by the way 
of Burgos and Valladolid to the ancient city of Segovia. 
In the great towns through which she passed, she was 
entertained in a style suited to her rank ; and every- 
where along her route she was greeted with the hearty 
acclamations of the people. For the match was popu- 
lar with the nation ; and the cortes had urged the king 
to expedite it as much as possible." The Spaniards 
longed for a male heir to the crown ; and since the 
death of Carlos, Philip had only daughters remaining 
to him. 

In Segovia, where the marriage-ceremony was to be 
performed, magnificent preparations had been made for 

n Florez, Reynas Catholicas, torn. II. p. 905. 



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QUEEN ANNE. 431 

die reception of the princess. As she approached that 
city, she was met by a large body of the local militia, 
dressed in gay uniforms, and by the municipality of 
the place, arrayed in their robes of office and mounted 
on horseback. With this brave escort she entered the 
gates. The streets were ornamented with beautiful 
fountains, and spanned by triumphal arches, under 
which the princess proceeded, amidst the shouts of the 
populace, to the great cathedral." 

Anne, then in the bloom of youth, is described aa 
having a rich and delicate complexion. Her figure 
was good, her deportment gracious, and she rode her 
richly-caparisoned palfrey with natural ease and dignity. 
Her not very impartial chronicler tells us that the spec- 
tators particularly admired the novelty of her Bohemian 
costume, her riding-hat gayly ornamented with feathers, 
and her short mantle of crimson velvet richly fringed 
with gold." 

After Te Deum had been chanted, the splendid 
procession took its way to the far-famed aUasar, that 
palace -fortress, originally built by the Moors, which 
now served both as a royal residence and as a place of 
confinement for prisoners of state. Here it was that 
the unfortunate Montigny passed many a weary month 
of captivity ; and less than three months had elapsed 
since he had been removed from the place which was 
so soon to become the scene of royal festivity, and 
consigned to the fatal fortress of Simancas, to perish 
by the hand of the midnight executioner. Anne, it 

M Florez. Reynas Calholicas, torn. )i, p. goS. 

M " Realiada con gracia por el mismo Irage del camino, sombreru 
alio malliada con pliunas, capotillo de terciopelo cannssi, borduto de 
on> i la moda Bohema." Ibid., p. 907. 



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43» DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAIN. 

may be remembered, was said, on her journey through 
the Low Countries, to have promised Montigny's family 
to intercede with her lord in his behalf. But the king, 
perhaps willing to be spared the awkwardness of refusing 
the first boon asked by his young bride, disposed of his 
victim soon after her landing, while she was yet in the 
north. 

Anne entered the akazar amidst salvoes of artillery. 
She found there the good Princess Joanna, Philip's 
sister, who received her with the same womanly kind- 
ness which she had shown twelve years before to Eliza- 
beth of Fi^ce, when, on a similar occasion, she made 
her first entrance into Castile. The marriage was 
appointed to take place on the following day, the 
fourteenth of November. Philip, it is said, obtained 
his first view of his betrothed when, mingling in 
disguise among the cavalcade of courtiers, he accom- 
panied her entrance into the capital.^ When he had 
led his late queen, Isabella, to the altax, some white 
hairs on his temples attracted her attention.' During 
the ten years which had since elapsed, the cares of 
office had wrought the same effect on him as on his 
father, and turned his head prematurely gray. The 
marriage was solemnized with great pomp in the 
cathedral of Segovia. The service was performed by 
the archbishop of Seville. The spacious building was 
crowded to overflowing with spectators, among whom 
were the highest dignitaries of the Church and the 
most illustrious of the nobility of Spain.* 

J" Florei, Reynas Calholicfls. ubl lupn. 
J» Anit, vol. i. p. 415. 

* Flom, Reynai Catholicas, lom. ii. p. 90S. — Cabma, FlUiie S» 
gimdo, p. 661. 



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QUEEN ,A!VNE. 433 

During the few days which followed, while the royal 
pair remained in Segovia, the city was abandoned to 
jubilee. The auspicious event was celebrated by public 
illuminations and by magnificent ^/rtf, at which the 
king and queen danced in the presence of the whole 
court, who stood around in respectful silence.* On 
the eighteenth, the new-married couple proceeded to 
Madrid, where such splendid preparations had been 
made for their reception as evinced the loyalty of the 
capital. 

As soon as the building of the Escorial was sufficiently 
advanced to furnish suitable accommodations for his 
young queen, Philip passed a part of every summer in 
its cloistered solitudes, which had more attraction for 
him than any other of his residences. The presence 
of Anne and her courtly train diffused something like 
an air of gayety over the grand but gloomy pile, to 
which it had been little accustomed. Among other 
divcreions for her entertainment we find mention made 
of autos sacramenlaUs, those religious dramas that re- 
mind one of the ancient Mysteries and Moralities 
which entertained our English ancestors. These auios 
were so much in favor with the Spaniards as to keep 
possession of the stage longer than in most other 
countries ; nor did they receive their full development 
until they had awakened the genius of Calderon. 

It was a pen, however, bearing little resemblance to 
that of Calderon which furnished these edifying dramas. 
They proceeded, probably, from some Jeronymite gifted 
with a more poetic vein than his brethren. The actors 

m " En el sarao bailaron Rey y Reyna, eslando de pie loda la Corte." 
Flom. Reynas Catholicas, torn. ii. p. 90S. 
Philip.— Vol, III.— t 37 



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434 



DOMESTIC AFFAIRS OF SPAlff. 



were taken from among the pupils in the seminary 
established in the Escorial. Anne, who appears to 
have been simple in her tastes, is said to have found 
much pleasure in these exhibitions, and in such recrea- 
tion as could be afforded her by excursions into the 
wild, romantic country that surrounded the monastery. 
Historians have lef^ us but few particulars of her life 
and character, — much fewer than of her lo\'ely prede- 
cessor. Such accounts as we have represent her as of 
an amiable disposition and addicted to pious works. 
She was rarely idle, and employed much of her time 
in needle-work, leaving many specimens of her skill in 
this way in the decorations of the conventsand churches. 
A rich piece of embroidery, wrought by her hands and 
those of her maidens, vras long preserved in the royal 
chapel, under the name of " Queen Anne's tapestry." 

Her wedded life was destined not to be a long one, 
— only two yeais longer than that of Isabella. She 
was blessed, however, with a more numerous progeny 
than either of her predecessors. She had four sons 
and a daughter. But all died in infancy or early 
childhood except the third son, who as Philip the 
Third lived to take his place in the royal dynasty of 
Castile. 

The queen died on the twenty-sixth of October, 1580, 
in the thirty-first year of her age and the eleventh of 
her reign. A singular anecdote is told in connection 
with her deatli^ This occurred at Badajoz, where the 
court was then established, as a convenient place for 
overlooking the war in which the country was at that 
time engaged with Portugal. While there the king 
fell ill. The symptoms were of the most alarming 



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QUEEN ANNE, 435 

character. The queen, in her distiess, implored the 
Almighty to spare a life so important to the welfare 
of the kingdom and of the Church, and instead of it 
to accept the sacrifice of her own. Heaven, says the 
chronicler, as the result showed, listened to her prayer.* 
The king recovered ; and the queen fell ill of a disorder 
which in a few days terminated fatally. Her remains, 
after lying in state for some time, were transported with 
solemn pomp to the Escorial, where they enjoyed the 
melancholy pre-eminence of being laid in the quarter 
of the mausoleum reserved exclusively for kings and 
the mothers of kings. Such was the end of Anne of 
Austria, the fourth and last wife of Philip the Second. 



KND OF THE THIRD VOLUHB. 



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