Volume 3 — CHAPTER XXVI THE MORISCOES 1492–1609 (continued 2)

In the campaign that ensued every consideration of military virtue, of pity, of humanity, was cast aside. The Christians fought with an energy dictated by fanaticism and rapacity, the Moors with all the reckless courage of despair. The Castilian officers, so far from restraining the excesses of the soldiery, encouraged them in order to increase their ferocity and render reconciliation impossible till all the available booty could be secured. The Moors of Granada paid dearly for the apathy with which they had received the overtures of their more daring countrymen. The lawless rabble of the Spanish camp, which recognized no restraint but that of superior force, was quartered upon the wealthy citizens of the Albaycin. It is notorious that even the plain-spoken old chroniclers of the time blushed to record the outrages inflicted by these savage volunteers, callous to every appeal of decency or honor. An extraordinary tax of six thousand ducats was imposed upon the Albaycin for the purpose of provisioning the army; and the Moorish farmers of the Vega were compelled under heavy penalties to furnish every day twenty thousand pounds of bread at a price arbitrarily fixed by the authorities. Thus the unhappy Moriscoes of the capital, too timorous to second an attempt to regain their independence, were forced to contribute to the discomfiture of their friends, to undergo unspeakable insults and frightful suffering, and in the end to sacrifice their property and in many instances their lives as the result of their distrust of a cause which lack of intelligent co-operation rendered hopeless from the very beginning. The activity of the Spanish generals, and the superiority in numbers of their troops, soon gained for them the advantage. The campaign resolved itself into a succession of skirmishes and marauding expeditions, whose monotony was occasionally relieved by promiscuous butchery. In consequence of a disturbance provoked by the insolent conduct of a Spanish soldier, thirteen hundred prisoners, of whom a thousand were women, were massacred at the Castle of Jubiles. The plans of the royal commanders were hampered by the insubordination of the soldiery; their insatiable greed placed the army in desperate situations, whence by good fortune alone it could be extricated, and the frequency of desertion seriously threatened the efficiency of a force unrestrained either by self-respect or military law. Driven from point to point, the army of Ibn-Ommeyah was finally beaten and dispersed. The Alpujarras were occupied by lines of fortified posts, which prevented the assembling of any considerable body of insurgents; the mountaineers of the adjacent sierras were gradually reduced to submission, and the insurrection was at last only represented by the fugitive prince and a handful of followers, whose fidelity was sorely tried by the tempting reward offered for the head of their sovereign.

The Moriscoes, terrified by the misfortunes which they had undergone, offered, for the sake of present security, to submit to any conditions that might be imposed,—to deportation, to exile, to confiscation, to the maintenance of the troops that might be detailed as their guards against future hostility. Different and irreconcilable opinions prevailed among the officials of the crown as to the policy to be adopted; one party advocated amnesty, another extermination. In the mean time, while their superiors were wrangling, the soldiers pursued without interruption the agreeable diversion of rapine. Although hostilities had ceased, small bands of military brigands roamed everywhere without control, robbing houses, destroying property, ravishing women. Inoffensive peasants, who had never borne arms, were seized, carried to Granada, and publicly sold as slaves in the markets of the city by these outlaws, with the knowledge and connivance of the authorities. The latter quarrelled over the division of the spoil and the questionable distinction acquired by conflagration and massacre. No faith was kept with the vanquished. Safe-conducts signed by the highest officials were not respected. No Morisco was exempt from molestation and violence; no house was secure from the intrusion of prowling and bloodthirsty ruffians. When a body of Christian troops passed through a Moorish community everything portable departed with it, the rest was burned. There was deliberate method in this wholesale destruction of property. The army desired nothing so little as peace. War had been profitable even beyond expectation. The booty already secured was immense, but the greater portion had as yet escaped the avarice of the conqueror. The general and the common soldier alike cast longing glances upon the wealth of the Albaycin; upon the productive estates of the Vega, still cultivated by Moorish industry; upon the untold wealth in gold and jewels known to be hoarded by the residents of Guadix, Baza, and Almeria. Leaving all else out of consideration, the Moriscoes themselves, who numbered more than half a million, if condemned to slavery, would realize a prodigious sum. These were the sinister motives which urged an indefinite prosecution of the war, and it was not long before the desired object was attained. The Moriscoes, driven to despair by the duplicity of their enemies whose violence they could not resist, again fled to the mountains and sought the standard of Ibn-Ommeyah. The Spanish mob of Granada, excited by rumors of conspiracy, at once massacred the defenceless Moorish occupants of the prisons to the number of several hundred. Their personal effects were appropriated by the governor; their lands were confiscated for the benefit of the crown; and their widows and orphans were reduced to beggary. A judgment of the court subsequently obtained confirmed this arbitrary act, stating that its decision was based upon the fact that, “while some of the prisoners were actually guilty, all were guilty in intention.” The affair was regarded as a suggestive warning, and in the future the insurgents did not receive or expect assistance from their friends in Granada.

Once more the flames of war were kindled in the sierras, and the scenes of indiscriminate butchery were resumed. The power of Ibn-Ommeyah, strengthened by thousands of desperate men fleeing from persecution, by the monfis, by the corsairs, and by numbers of savage adventurers from the northern coast of Africa, now became more formidable than ever. That power he exercised with ferocious severity. The discipline of his troops was improved. Marauding parties of Christians from the principal cities were surprised and cut to pieces. Prominent officials who had ventured to advocate surrender were promptly executed for treason. The discouraging and hitherto hopeless task of enlisting the sympathy and aid of the Mohammedan princes of Fez and Algiers was resumed, but with no better prospect of success than before.

Philip, fully informed of the incapacity and mutual distrust of those hitherto charged with the government of Granada, now determined to commit the subjection of the rebels to a general whose rank and talents would command the obedience and check the insubordination of the ill-disciplined bands composing the bulk of the Spanish army. Don John of Austria, his half-brother, the natural son of Charles V., a youth whose opportunities had as yet given little indication of the military genius he possessed, but in whom discerning eyes had already perceived the existence of those brilliant qualities subsequently displayed with such lustre at Lepanto, was assigned to the command.

The greatest enthusiasm was aroused by this appointment. Nobles and peasants alike, ambitious of serving under a prince of the blood, flocked by hundreds to the royal standard. The new commander, although inexperienced, perfected his arrangements with all the caution and skill of a veteran. The army was thoroughly reorganized. Disorder was checked. Outlaws and beggars were expelled from the camp. As far as the annoying feudal regulations would permit, discipline was enforced. Licensed brigandage, which had done so much to destroy the efficiency of the troops, was punished with impartial rigor. Under these improved conditions the army, which had hitherto resembled a disorderly mob, now assumed the appearance of a compact and formidable force. Meanwhile, the insurgents had not been idle. Instructed by experience and adversity, Ibn-Ommeyah introduced many necessary reforms into his civil and military administration; purchased arms in Africa; invited the presence of corsairs; procured supplies; and, dividing his territory into districts whose arrangement facilitated mutual support and defence, awaited with resolution and confidence the approach of the enemy. The first operations of the campaign were favorable to the Moriscoes, whose successes, while neither material nor decisive, nevertheless resulted in substantial additions to their ranks. Although able to bring several thousand men into the field, their want of artillery, ignorance of engineering science, and traditional dependence on partisan warfare made their victories worthless. The latter were obtained in skirmishes where but a few hundreds were engaged, the nature of the ground and the opportunities for surprise giving unperceived assailants the advantage.

Irritated by these reverses, a decisive step, long contemplated, and frequently from politic motives postponed, was now resolved upon by the government. The rumor of impending revolt was diligently circulated throughout Granada. As no evidence was subsequently disclosed to confirm this report, it was probably entirely fictitious, but it accomplished the object for which it was promulgated. A panic seized the excitable populace, and a universal demand arose for the expulsion of the Moriscoes. The authorities were quick to profit by the commotion and the fears which their own perfidy aroused; and, at a concerted signal, twenty thousand arquebusiers, with lighted fuses, occupied the approaches to the Albaycin. The Moriscoes, when ordered to assemble in their churches, anticipating a massacre, abandoned themselves to despair. It required all the influence of the municipal authorities, and the royal word of Don John of Austria himself that their lives would be spared, to reassure the terror-stricken prisoners. Crowded together in the aisles, they passed an agonizing and sleepless night. The next morning the males between the ages of ten and sixty years, with their hands bound behind them, were conducted outside the walls, where a decree of perpetual banishment was pronounced against them and their kindred. A few days of grace were accorded to these unfortunates to dispose of, or rather to sacrifice, their personal property; and then, divided into several companies, each escorted by a strong guard, they began their journey towards central Andalusia, Estremadura, and Castile, whither, for purposes of security, it had been decided to conduct them.

The exiles were about eleven thousand in number. They included the descendants of the wealthiest and noblest Moorish families of Granada, and, indeed, of the entire Peninsula. Many of them traced their ancestry back to the princely families of the khalifate, eminent alike for intellectual accomplishments and military renown. In their keeping were the ancient traditions of their race; the rare memorials of the Moslem conquest and domination; the remnants of Arabic literature which had escaped the destructive zeal of Ximenes and the exhaustive search of prying alguazils and inquisitors. Their houses still displayed the splendid decorations peculiar to the palmy days of the emirate; marble halls and alabaster fountains; hangings of embossed and gilded leather; stuccoes that in elegance of design and delicacy of execution equalled those of the Alhambra. In the Vega were many estates, cultivated by their dependents, which returned each year a large and profitable income. All of these landed possessions were unceremoniously appropriated by the Spaniards, and the personal effects sold by the exiles yielded scarcely a tithe of their value. Driven by force from their homes, and despoiled on every side, the Moriscoes pursued their sorrowful way. Reared in comfort and affluence and accustomed to luxury, they were ill-fitted for a long and toilsome journey. Few of the multitude that started arrived at their destination. The hardships incident to travel and exposure to the burning heat proved fatal to hundreds. Many expired from grief, from hunger, from disease. Others were wantonly killed by their guards, who plundered, without hesitancy or compunction, both the living and the dead. When this source of profit was exhausted, the strongest men and the most attractive women were sold as slaves. The condition of the few survivors who arrived at Seville was so deplorable that even the compassion of ecclesiastics, whose lives had been passed in the infliction of persecution and torture, was excited. The greater portion of the inhabitants, however, regarded these victims of tyranny with indifference or curiosity. The sufferings of tender youth, of decrepit age, of beauty in distress, awakened no sympathy; and if any feelings were exhibited by the throngs that lined the highways along which, under a scorching sun, the fainting exiles staggered, they were those of bitter enmity and of exultation at the misfortunes of heretics who had forfeited all title to humanity through the inherited blood of a despised and conquered race.

No beneficial consequences resulted from this measure, as cruel as it was unwise. The insurgents continued their depredations. Every straggler was killed; and no foraging party whose force was less than that of a regiment could hope to return. The Moriscoes by degrees became more daring, and it was no longer safe for individuals to venture beyond the limits of the camp. The encounters were all to the advantage of the rebels; and the great city of Almeria, by the merest accident, escaped falling into their hands. The latter, however, were not only unable to cope with the entire power of the Spanish monarchy, but were even unprovided with the means necessary for the retention of their paltry conquests. Even in a situation where unity was more than ever indispensable to self-preservation, the irrepressible tendency of the Arab mind to factional disturbance began to manifest itself. Nine centuries of national disaster had been insufficient to repress the tribal hatred and the thirst for private vengeance which had sapped the vitality and finally torn into fragments the realm of a vast and splendid empire. The Moor was incapable of profiting by experience. The law of reprisal, that accursed legacy of his Bedouin forefathers, had never been lost sight of, even amidst all the culture and all the wisdom of his civilization. It was the most powerful and effective weapon that his enemies possessed, and it was eternally used to his prejudice. To its aid the Reconquest was far more indebted than to the energy of Alfonso VI. or to the craft of Ferdinand the Catholic. It won more battles than all the conquering sovereigns from Pelayus to Isabella. No Castilian prince had ever failed to recognize its importance or to profit by its employment. And now, in the remote Alpujarras, the last resort of Moorish valor and ambition, it was again to be wielded with even more fatal and demoralizing effects than had ever marked its use since the troublous epoch which followed the decline of the Ommeyade supremacy.

The popularity of Ibn-Ommeyah had of late greatly suffered through the strictness of the discipline which he had inaugurated and the oppressive acts of his advisers, for the most part men of obscure lineage and grasping avarice. The soldiers, accustomed to the exercise of the greatest freedom in their conduct and in their treatment of the enemy, viewed with unconcealed disgust the restraints to which they were subjected. In the councillors of their king, the rich Moriscoes, who had forfeited their lives and expended their treasure in sustaining his pretensions, saw a band of robbers, who abused the opportunities of their positions for their own pecuniary benefit. Especially were those whose wealth made them conspicuous the objects of the selfish animadversion of these base-born officials. No person of eminence, whether civilian or military officer, was safe from the denunciation of informers. The experience of Ibn-Ommeyah, and his frequent escapes from premeditated treachery, had made him impulsive, vindictive, and cruel. Constantly exposed to danger, he was only too ready to listen to the voice of suspicion, and in the court of a despot the punishment follows swiftly upon the accusation. Besides the alienation of many of his principal adherents from the above-mentioned causes, Ibn-Ommeyah had recently gained for himself, by an egregious act of folly, the enmity of one of the most powerful tribes in the kingdom.

Among the most distinguished families of Granada was that of the Beni-Alguazil-al-Karimi, in which was vested, by hereditary right, the office of vizier of the district of Ujijar. Inherited rivalry, the pride of conscious merit, and the jealousy of power had made the Beni-Alguazil the enemies of the house of Ibn-Ommeyah. Their hostility, manifested upon more than one occasion, had aroused the apprehensions of the Moorish prince; and the assassination of Miguel de Rojas, the chief of the tribe, was, not without probability, attributed to his instigation. In consequence, the Beni-Alguazil, while unwilling to assist the Christian foe, maintained a suspicious and sullen demeanor, and, with the characteristic vindictiveness of the Arab, awaited patiently the moment of reprisal. With a perfidy natural to his character, and from the effects of which he was ultimately destined to perish, Ibn-Ommeyah had adopted the custom of promoting to favor and apparent confidence those whom he had already marked for destruction. Among those who shared this perilous honor was Diego Alguazil, a member of the rival clan, whose animosity had been soothed by the gifts and the consideration he received at the hands of his sovereign. In his harem was a lovely slave, the perfection of whose charms, imprudently disclosed by her master, aroused the curiosity and inflamed the desires of Ibn-Ommeyah. Considerations of policy or justice were of trifling moment where the ungovernable passions of the Moorish king were concerned; the slave was rudely appropriated without apology or compensation; and this arbitrary invasion of the rights of a subject raised up for Ibn-Ommeyah an implacable enemy. The ambition of the beautiful Zahrâ, who aspired to the position of Sultana, was disappointed by her continuance in an inferior rank, and, her hopes thus blasted, she found in her former master a pliant and serviceable instrument of revenge. The support of other malcontents, dissatisfied with the cruelty and arrogance of their king, was readily secured; the fears of the royal guard of six hundred Turks were excited by an ingenious, but discreditable, stratagem; and Ibn-Ommeyah, torn from the arms of his women and thrown into prison, perished miserably before morning at the hands of the executioner. His death seemed not entirely unjustifiable, for he proclaimed with his last breath his secret and unshaken belief in the Christian religion. The hypocrisy, which, for the sake of luxury and power, could feign attachment to a creed that upon the slightest pretext it was ready to betray, was not unworthily punished by the treachery of a slave. Ibn-Abu, a cousin of Ibn-Ommeyah, succeeded to the empty honors and dangerous responsibilities of a tottering throne. The treasures of the palace and the seraglio were divided among the conspirators. The guards, whose fidelity to the new administration was suspected, were disbanded; the unpopular officials, deprived of the power which they had abused and the wealth which they had accumulated by extortion and perfidy, were despoiled and exiled; and the new King, crowned at Lanjar with all the pomp which the limited resources that a fugitive court and an impoverished treasury could command, assumed, with an appearance of confidence, the direction of a government divided against itself and confronted with the combined and resistless power of the Spanish monarchy.

Ibn-Abu, when invested with the royal dignity, of whose precarious character he was perfectly aware, but whose acceptance he was afraid to refuse, was far past the prime of life. In the course of an eventful and romantic career, he had undergone many exciting and hazardous experiences. From his youth identified with the party hostile to the Christians, his fidelity to the Moslem cause had been severely tested on numerous occasions. Implicated with the monfis, he had submitted to torture and had been sent to the galleys rather than betray his comrades. Again, for refusing to disclose the hiding-place of his sovereign, he was subjected to a shocking and indescribable mutilation. His sufferings had confirmed his loyalty and intensified his hatred; the noble qualities with which he was endowed endeared him to his countrymen; but his indecision, his lack of energy, and his inability to profit by the means at his disposal in the presence of any sudden exigency unfitted him for the position of responsibility to which he had been so unexpectedly promoted. In spite of the disadvantages under which he labored, he, however, soon placed his forces upon a more effective footing, and his position was greatly strengthened by the discord of his enemies.

The reforms inaugurated by Don John of Austria proved impracticable when their full import became known to the soldiers and they began to experience the inconveniences attendant upon military restraint. Feudal customs also interfered with the enforcement of discipline; and the lords, fearful of a retrenchment of their own privileges, indulged their vassals in acts of rapine prejudicial to the well-being of the entire army. The quarrels and recriminations of the Marquis de Mondejar and the Marquis de los Velez, so far from being extinguished by the appointment of a commander-in-chief, became more aggravated and violent than ever. The power of the latter was hampered by contradictory orders from Madrid, and the prosecution of energetic measures was prevented by incessant and acrimonious disputes. As soon as the prospect of booty was diminished, the army was threatened with dissolution. Desertions were so common and their effect was so demoralizing that all reviews were abandoned, in order that the enemy might not become acquainted with the diminished numbers of their antagonists. Scores of officers were cashiered for peculation; but their successors, unintimidated by the penalty, followed, without hesitation, their disgraceful example. In the markets of the city, the government supplies were publicly exposed for sale by the commissaries. The camp was filled with spies. Not only had many Moriscoes enlisted with the object of betraying their comrades, but the Spaniards themselves constantly sold both official secrets and arms to the rebels. Entire garrisons mutinied because of the necessary precautions instituted by their commanders; and it was not unusual for parties organized for robbery to leave their posts in violation of the express orders of the general. Of these marauders few returned, but their fate failed to deter others; the love of plunder prevailed over every other incentive; and the safety of the troops was often jeopardized by the misconduct of unprincipled adventurers, whose insolence and insubordination even the highest authority seemed unable to restrain. These breaches of order and discipline were by no means confined to the ranks; every grade of the military was affected; and no less a personage than the Marquis de los Velez himself assumed the right to act independently of the commander-in-chief, and to disregard all orders from head-quarters unless they suited his convenience or promoted his interest.

The army of Ibn-Abu amounted to twelve thousand men, of whom four thousand were thoroughly drilled arquebusiers. This force, though for the most part well equipped, experienced in war, aided by the advantages of situation, and fighting for liberty on its own ground, was unable to accomplish any important result, even when engaged with a demoralized enemy. The achievements of the Moriscoes, limited to the blockade of a few fortresses and to marauding expeditions that harassed the cultivators of the Vega, are scarcely worthy of notice, still less of detailed narration. In the vicinity of Orgiba and Baza their troops appeared in force, but retired at once at the approach of the Christians. It was only by the practice of treacherous methods that the Moorish tactics ever prevailed. The want of stability and resolution which had proved fatal to the permanence of the Hispano-Arab empire survived in the final operations of the Morisco rebellion. The superior steadiness of the Spanish infantry invariably carried the day, even against overwhelming odds. The Moors were easily disheartened; after a trifling repulse it was impossible to rally them; and, even when protected by fortifications, they could not withstand the dogged pertinacity which was a prominent trait of the Castilian.

With the appearance of Don John of Austria in the field, hostilities were prosecuted with more rigor and with greater cruelty. The unimportant but bloody successes of the Moors had infused into the Spanish soldiery an even more pitiless spirit than before. The Austrian prince, at first disposed to leniency, soon became, through association and prejudice, as unfeeling as the meanest soldier in the ranks. The siege and assault of Galera, which was the turning-point of the war, exemplified, in a striking degree, the dominant principle which actuated the minds of those who directed the campaign. That town, situated upon an isolated rock, was one of the most strongly fortified places in Spain. In addition to its position, its facilities for defence were excellent. Its garrison was composed of three thousand veterans. Its supplies were ample, and the prudence of Ibn-Abu, who fully appreciated its value, had long before filled to overflowing its magazine and its arsenal. Two falconets, one of which had been captured from the Marquis de los Velez, defended the castle, an unusual advantage, for the Moriscoes were generally unprovided even with such insignificant artillery. A concealed gallery cut through the mountain, and extending below the bed of the river at its base, provided the inhabitants with water, whose existence, unknown to the enemy, made its destruction impossible. In addition to the garrison, the walls of Galera sheltered a population of five thousand, including residents and refugees.

Every precaution that skill and experience could suggest had been adopted to strengthen the defences of a place regarded as already impregnable. Barricades were erected at frequent intervals in the streets, and between them the houses were pierced with openings, to facilitate communication and afford means of retreat. The town, built in terraces upon the sloping rock, offered an ascending series of lines of resistance. Those ordinarily considered as non-combatants were animated by a spirit of determination equal, if not superior, to that of the garrison, and their presence promised to be an important aid rather than a drawback in the impending contest.

Twelve thousand men, commanded by Don John of Austria in person, invested Galera on the eighteenth day of January, 1570. The approaches to the town were defended with stubborn resolution. When forced behind the walls, it became evident that the position of the Moriscoes was so strong that ordinary methods of assault must prove useless. Mining was therefore resorted to; and a passage, terminating under the citadel, was cut with infinite trouble through the solid rock. As soon as it was completed, a storming party was detailed for the attack, and the explosion of forty-five barrels of gunpowder announced that the mine had been sprung. Little damage was done to the castle, however; the walls remained intact; and the Spaniards were driven back with heavy loss. Two other mines were opened and exploded, and three assaults were made simultaneously. One explosion effected some injury, but the ruins raised by the other counteracted it; the loss of the insurgents was trifling; and again the Spaniards sustained a bloody and serious repulse.

Another charge, in which the besiegers—infuriated by the fall of their general, who was struck by a bullet which his armor of proof fortunately deflected—succeeded in passing the ramparts, procured for them admission into the streets. Here they were met by scarcely less formidable obstacles, and their advance was, foot by foot, contested. Amidst these frightful scenes, the people of Galera vied in gallantry with the soldiers of the garrison. Old men fought bravely in the foremost line for the preservation of their homes. The wounded and dying received the grateful ministrations of delicate women, who fearlessly exposed themselves to fire in the discharge of the offices of mercy. Even children of tender years, undismayed by the smoke and din of battle, carried missiles to repel the enemy. The contest soon assumed the character of a hand-to-hand encounter. The barricaded streets, the battlemented houses—built of stone and with few openings—checked at each step the progress of the assailants. For nine hours with incessant fury the battle raged. At length the survivors were driven into an angle of the fortifications from whence there was no escape. Here, in the face of a relentless foe, the Moriscoes made their final stand, without the hope of clemency or the fear of death. Young girls died, scimetar in hand, with a resolution foreign to their age and sex. Fathers deliberately killed their wives and children, and then rushed forward to perish on the weapons of the Spaniards. Even the veterans of Italy, accustomed to the atrocities characteristic of the wars of the sixteenth century, were sickened by the frightful carnage. The population was almost annihilated. Of eight thousand persons who had composed it, fifteen hundred women and children alone survived the final assault, which, not inclusive of the losses of the besiegers, cost thirty-six hundred lives. The avarice of the victors had spared four hundred helpless captives, whom Don John of Austria, enraged at the casualties which his army had suffered, caused to be butchered in his presence. In this diabolical massacre the halberdiers of the royal guard took a conspicuous part, encouraged by the approving gestures of their commander, who regarded with pious complacency the extermination of these rebellious infidels.

The siege of Galera is memorable, not only on account of the gallantry of the defence, but also from the fact that it indicates the true beginning of the military career of the future hero of Lepanto. While in reality reflecting but little credit upon the reputation of that prince, the popularity he acquired by the achievement discloses the moral perversity of the public mind in that fanatical age. Not a word was uttered in censure of the savage vindictiveness directed against the aged and the helpless, a class whose condition appeals to the most generous impulses of mankind, but whose fate was universally applauded by bigots of every degree, as one step more towards the extirpation of heresy. A spirit of inherent deviltry seemed to distinguish for centuries the princes of the monarchy established by Ferdinand and Isabella. The progressive decadence of that monarchy from the day of its foundation—imperceptible at first, and concealing the incurable defects of the Castilian polity by the spurious glory of unprofitable wars and ruinous triumphs, and the genuine splendors of unparalleled discoveries, whose proceeds were employed for the oppression and debasement of countless millions of human beings—is one of the most significant and instructive events in the history of mankind.

The capture of Galera was a dearly purchased victory. The character of the resistance offered by its defenders did not afford a flattering prospect for the success of similar enterprises in the future. Many important strongholds, as difficult of approach, of equal strength, and of larger population, were still in the hands of the insurgents. The fate of the place, while a warning, served rather to confirm the obstinacy than to arouse the trepidation of the Moriscoes. Their dauntless courage had left hundreds of their enemies on the field. The bodies of Moor and Christian alike strewed the ramparts; and in the streets through which had surged the ever-advancing tide of battle had fallen many of the most distinguished nobles in the Spanish service. Realizing the difficulties he was liable to encounter, Don John made a demand upon the King for men and money. Reinforcements were easily obtained, but only through the clergy, who, as a rule, were always ready to profit by a crusade, but who generally regarded their spiritual aid as abundantly sufficient, and were never eager to furnish substantial contributions, could funds for the prosecution of the war be procured. This was accomplished by the establishment of religious brotherhoods in every diocese, whose members, by the purchase of indulgences, could thus perform a service of signal merit to the Church and, at the same time, secure absolution for their sins. The scheme proved remarkably successful; and larger sums were eventually collected than those yielded by the sale of similar concessions issued for this purpose directly from the Holy See.

Papal influence, at that time predominant in European politics, had, immediately after the storming of Galera, tendered to the Austrian prince, through Philip, the place of generalissimo of the Holy League against the Turks. The vast international interests which depended upon the proper exercise of this office could not be neglected or their protection deferred until after many months had been consumed in suppressing the revolt of a few thousand rebels. By that time the Ottoman fleet would have obtained the supremacy of the Mediterranean, and an innumerable horde of bloodthirsty fanatics have descended upon the continent of Europe. While military prestige was presumably essential to one accepting a position of such responsibility and power, the risks were too great and the field too narrow to seek it in a campaign of such doubtful results as that against the Moriscoes. Peremptory orders were sent Don John to hasten by diplomacy what it had been demonstrated would be both difficult and tedious to secure by arms. An attempt was therefore made to corrupt the fidelity of Fernando-al-Habaqui, the favorite councillor of Ibn-Abu, whose wisdom and discernment, like those of many statesmen of his time, were superior to his patriotism and integrity. In various interviews, nominally appointed for purposes relating to the exchange of prisoners, the co-operation of this influential personage was obtained; he was promised an unconditional pardon; and the lives of those who surrendered voluntarily were to be spared. As second in command, he was enabled to control a large extent of territory in the accomplishment of his treacherous design; all the detachments of Morisco troops outside the Alpujarras and within his jurisdiction were suddenly withdrawn; the dismayed inhabitants were abandoned to their fate; many of those taken were reduced to slavery or sent to the galleys; some succeeded in escaping to the mountains; and the entire district of the River Almanzora, thus driven to submission, yielded such a multitude of captives that the general, unable to feed or control them, was compelled to leave them unmolested until arrangements could be made for their final disposition. A royal decree recently promulgated had ordered the removal of all the Moriscoes of the lately conquered districts to Castile. This measure, nominally adopted for public security, had, in fact, its origin in more ignoble motives; in the country of the insurgents a considerable number of Moorish proprietors had succeeded, amidst the general confusion, in retaining their estates; and the effectual means of disposing of obnoxious neighbors by enforced migrations had demonstrated its value when the Moriscoes of the Albaycin had perished miserably on the highways. The unfortunate victims of state policy and religious persecution were surrounded and herded like cattle; their number is unrecorded, but it must have amounted to thousands; the few effects which they possessed they were generously permitted to sell for a trifle; and, shelterless and almost naked, they were distributed over the deserts of La Mancha, where the savage peasantry, considering them as intruders, inflicted upon these wretched exiles every outrage which malignity could devise or lawlessness execute. The presence of the Moriscoes in Castile, at that time a recent event, no doubt suggested to the fertile mind of Cervantes one of the most entertaining episodes in the crowning masterpiece of Spanish literature.

The remaining Morisco strongholds, contrary to general expectation, and discouraged by the treason of Al-Habaqui, were far from emulating the heroic example of Galera. Seron, Purchena, Tijola, all well-fortified towns, submitted without serious resistance. Negotiations, now authorized by Ibn-Abu, were still carried on with Al-Habaqui, whose treachery does not seem to have destroyed the harmony existing between himself and his sovereign. The impatience of Don John for the termination of hostilities induced him to publish a proclamation of partial and conditional amnesty. Its terms granted life to all, without distinction, who within twenty days should surrender; promised that men between the ages of fifteen and fifty, who within the specified time should deliver to the proper officials an arquebuse or a cross-bow, should not be sold as slaves; and required that the leaders of the revolt, and such as were unwilling to take advantage of the proclamation, should be given up as an indispensable preliminary to leniency towards those who submitted. The ambiguity which pervaded the document caused it to be regarded with suspicion, and the Moriscoes, who had learned by repeated experience the duplicity of their enemies, declined to accept conditions whose uncertainty offered such inducements to abuse and misconstruction, even if they had not been actually drawn up for that purpose.

Unable any longer to cope with his adversaries in the open field, Ibn-Abu adopted the more effective policy of guerilla warfare. His army, divided into strong detachments, was posted at advantageous points whence the operations of the enemy could be observed and communication easily maintained. In this way the invaders were placed at a great disadvantage. The Moors retired before their advance; the towns were evacuated; all property was removed or concealed; convoys were cut off; and the army of the Duke of Sesa, who commanded the Christians, was almost reduced to extremity by famine. It became absolutely necessary to establish a base of supplies, and the Marquis of Favara was despatched with a considerable force to Calahorra. The Spaniards reached their destination in safety; but their movements had not escaped the vigilance of the mountaineers; and their return march, conducted without the precautions adopted by every wise commander, encountered an ambuscade in the valley of Ravaha. Here the road, so constructed that four men could with difficulty move abreast, was blocked by loaded beasts of burden, purposely left there by the Moors; and the soldiers, tempted by the hope of plunder, broke into disorder to seize them. The measures of Ibn-Abu had been taken with consummate skill. The Spaniards, hopelessly entangled in the narrow defile and completely surrounded, were ruthlessly slaughtered. In former attacks the mountains had always resounded with the piercing war-cries of the assailants, but now not a sound, save the scattering reports of arquebuses and the whistling of arrows, broke the ominous stillness of the scene. The advance guard and the centre had been destroyed before the Marquis was even apprized of the presence of an enemy. He effected his escape only by superhuman exertion, and of the sixteen hundred soldiers who composed his command fourteen hundred atoned for the military crimes of official negligence and disregard of discipline. On the Moorish side not a man was killed, and less than twenty were wounded. History affords but few parallels to the battle of Ravaha when both the numbers engaged and the immunity of the victors are considered.

This disaster compelled a precipitate retreat, and, unmolested by the enemy, who had ample opportunities to intercept them, the Spaniards fell back upon Adra. Such was their desperate condition from hunger that the gardens and orchards in the neighborhood were stripped of everything edible, and the chronicles relate that not even a leaf remained. The capture of the insignificant fortress of Castil-de-Ferro, whose garrison numbered less than a hundred, was the only exploit which relieved the disastrous monotony of the Duke of Sesa’s campaign. The Alpujarras, although still occupied by the Moriscoes, were practically untenable. Every hostile army which had entered their defiles had marked with utter devastation an area of many square leagues. The fields were laid waste. The villages were burned. Information of the hidden magazines of the inhabitants was sold by their countrymen, and the stores destined for the winter were carried away or destroyed. At many points the peasantry had sought refuge in caves. It was a favorite diversion of the Spaniards to stifle these wretches with smoke, like so many wild animals in their burrows. The survivors were hunted like game through the mountains. On a single occasion, Don John received a most acceptable gift of four hundred heads and eleven hundred captives. It was a remarkable circumstance when any considerable body of insurgents were taken, for indiscriminate massacre was the rule of every campaign. It was considered a peculiarly pious and meritorious action to ransom prisoners and present them to the Inquisition. The fate for which these unfortunate victims were reserved made the most shocking enormities of open warfare seem trivial in comparison.

The relations of Al-Habaqui with the Christians were now generally known; his influence was constantly solicited by his countrymen; and his power became so great that even Ibn-Abu himself was compelled to pay court to his minister, and countenance proceedings of which he heartily disapproved to avoid incurring the hostility of a favorite in whom was practically vested the supreme authority. The latter considered that the time had at last arrived for the conclusion of his treasonable negotiations. With the countenance of Ibn-Abu, and accompanied by seventeen Moriscoes of rank, he met the commissioners of Don John at Andarax. Nothing came of the conference, but the secret understanding between the minister and the Spaniards was carried out as pre-arranged. An adroit substitution of a document embodying the concessions of the Spaniards for the one containing the demands of the Moriscoes completed the deception of the latter; the arrogance of the Castilians caused a withdrawal of the envoys; and Al-Habaqui, with a single companion, appeared before Don John and, in the name of Ibn-Abu, gave up his own scimetar and answered for the surrender of the insurgents. This farce had but little effect, and was speedily repudiated by the Morisco king. Then Al-Habaqui received eight hundred gold ducats from the Spanish general, with which to raise a company whose especial mission it was to bring in Ibn-Abu, dead or alive. The prominence of Al-Habaqui had turned his head. His imprudent boasts betrayed him; he was seized by the Turks, imprisoned, and strangled. The treaty he had negotiated at the sacrifice of every principle of honor and patriotism died with him. Ibn-Abu used every expedient to keep the execution of his treacherous minister from obtaining publicity. Still resolved on resistance, he hoped by temporizing with the enemy to procure better terms. His resources were by no means exhausted. Five thousand well-equipped veterans were under his command. He entertained hopes of assistance from Africa—that ignis fatuus of every Moslem revolution, which promised so much and always ended in nothing. In the mean time all was uncertainty in the Christian camp. Although a formal capitulation by an authorized functionary had been formally signed, no insurgents surrendered. The whereabouts of Al-Habaqui were unknown, and, while his death was unsuspected, his absence could not be explained. Under a safe-conduct an envoy was despatched to the Morisco king; he soon ascertained the truth and carried back a message of defiance. Preparations were at once made for a renewal of hostilities; the Spanish army, in three divisions, advanced upon the Alpujarras from as many different directions, and every effort was exerted to close the war by a vigorously prosecuted campaign. The situation of Ibn-Abu now became critical. The country in which he was compelled to operate had been stripped of everything that could sustain life. Much of it that a few years previously exhibited a high degree of cultivation had been transformed into a primeval solitude, where only the charred remnants of once flourishing settlements attested the former presence of man. His army was discouraged by the unrelenting pursuit of the enemy. As usual, the faithfully promised support from Africa proved a delusion.

The Moorish prince sent his brother, Mohammed-al-Galipa, an experienced captain, to direct the insurrection in the Serrania de Ronda. Betrayed by a Christian guide, who led him within the Spanish lines, he was killed, and his escort of two hundred picked soldiers destroyed. In Valencia, a conspiracy formed in collusion with the Moriscoes of the Alpujarras was detected before it had time to mature, and its instigators were punished with merciless cruelty. Encompassed by a numerous and powerful foe, Ibn-Abu recognized the impossibility of resistance and disbanded his army. A few of his adherents took refuge among their kindred in Barbary. The majority, however, unable to escape and disdaining submission, which implied a slavery worse than death or inquisitorial torture, remained with their sovereign. All were scattered through the mountains and found shelter in the caves of that region, which were known only to shepherds and to those whose haunts were in the wildest and most rugged parts of the sierra. The march of the Spaniards was accomplished amidst the silence of desolation. In the distance at times could be seen flying parties of scouts, but no resistance was encountered. Whatever had escaped the destructive progress of former expeditions was now annihilated. Soldiers wandering in quest of plunder occasionally stumbled upon an inhabited cavern; its inmates were driven out by fire, and the infliction of torture soon disclosed the location of others. In one of these the wife and daughters of Ibn-Abu were suffocated, while he, with two companions, escaped through a secret opening in the mountain. The insatiable thirst of blood and booty which urged on the invaders rendered protracted concealment impossible. With each new discovery, other places of refuge were successively revealed through the unsparing and diabolical torments devised by the Castilians. The women were spared and condemned to slavery. Male captives under twenty, as a rule, shared a similar fate; all over that age were put to death, some amidst prolonged and frightful sufferings. Rank, innocence, the helplessness of age, the touching infirmity of disease, important services previously rendered to the royal cause, the prospect of future loyalty which might result from clemency judiciously bestowed, considerations of public welfare, dependent upon the preservation of an industrious people, afforded no exemption from the inexorable decree of destruction, enforced with every circumstance of savage malignity. The tracking of fugitive Moriscoes was as exciting and far more profitable than the chase of wild beasts. It was no unusual occurrence for a party of these terrified wretches to be pursued for a distance of fifty miles. No obstacles were sufficient to deter the Spaniards in the tireless search for their prey; the more arduous the hardships undergone, the greater the enjoyment when the victims, vainly suppliant for mercy, were put to the sword or burned at the stake. This time no organized enemy was left in the Alpujarras to disturb in future the peace of the monarchy. More than ten thousand insurgents were murdered or enslaved in the space of a month. Wherever the soldiery could penetrate, every vestige of human life and artificial vegetation were alike swept away. The terraced slopes of the mountains, reclaimed by infinite toil to profitable culture, the once smiling and fertile valleys, were restored to their native wildness. No voice remained in that infinite solitude to dispute the dogmas of the Church or to offend the scruples of the orthodox by the celebration of the profane and detested rites of Islam.

In the Serrania de Ronda the rebels still continued active, but the ambition of rival chieftains aiming at supreme power frustrated each other’s plans and eventually caused the discomfiture of all. The reputation for valor which the mountaineers of Ronda had attained was national; military operations in that locality were not prosecuted with the same energy as elsewhere, but the irreconcilable spirit of faction, ever so fatal to the progress and stability of the Arab race, again interposed as a potent factor of disorganization. A sharp campaign directed by the Duke of Arcos scattered the forces of the rebels, and the Serrania de Ronda, while not actually conquered, no longer contained a force capable of even temporary resistance.

The war now substantially ended, it was announced by royal proclamation that every Morisco, without a single exception, should be forever expelled from the kingdom of Granada. The order was carried out to the letter, under the supervision of Don John of Austria. The number of the exiles was from fifty to a hundred thousand. Superior discipline and the personal attention of the prince prevented the horrors that had attended the banishment of the residents of the Albaycin. Some were sent to Seville and Murcia, others to Estremadura, La Mancha, and Navarre. The Castilian peasantry resented their appearance among good Christians and resisted the soldiers, whose presence alone prevented a massacre. As usual, the lands which the Moriscoes possessed were seized for the benefit of the crown; their personal property was sacrificed for much less than its value, and many hitherto accustomed to luxury, plundered of the little they had saved from Spanish rapacity, reached their new homes in a state of absolute destitution. The remote fastnesses of the Alpujarras still concealed a number of fugitives, who cherished the fallacious hope that amidst the rejoicings incident to victory they might remain unnoticed and forgotten. Among them was Ibn-Abu, whose followers, the infamous monfis, alike inaccessible to honor or pity, were ready for every act of treachery, and some of whom had already discussed the expediency of obtaining pardon by the sacrifice of the King. These homeless wanderers soon realized that they were still the objects of Spanish animosity. The establishment of regular garrisons and the disbanding of the rest of the army were coincident with the formation of bands of scouts, whose duty it was to scour the country and capture every Morisco that could be found. In order to stimulate their activity, a reward of twenty ducats was offered for each insurgent. The chase of Moriscoes now became a more lucrative diversion than ever. The wildest portion of the sierra was examined foot by foot. Large numbers of fugitives were taken, and the prisons soon became too small to contain the multitudes that crowded them to suffocation. The utmost diligence of the authorities was unequal to the task of providing quarters for the new-comers, even by the wholesale execution of the old. The most distinguished prisoners were hung. Others were tortured. Many were handed over to the Inquisition, which, while never unsupplied with victims, was glad of the opportunity to make a signal example of such troublesome heretics. The majority were condemned to the galleys, which, all things being taken into account, was perhaps the most severe punishment that a prisoner could undergo. To be considered a mere machine, almost without identity and destitute of feeling, chained for days to the oar, exposed alike to the burning sun and the tempest, subject to hourly laceration by the scourge of a brutal overseer; ill-fed and unprotected from the weapons of an enemy, no fate to which unfortunate humanity is liable would not seem preferable to the lot of the galley-slave. Finally, the available facilities of Granada proved totally inadequate for the disposition of captive Moriscoes; extraordinary powers were conferred upon the commanders of the fortresses and outposts; the scenes of carnage were transferred from the capital to every accessible point of the Alpujarras, and the objects of national hatred and intolerance daily paid by hundreds the extreme penalty of misfortune and defeat.

The capture or death of Ibn-Abu now alone was necessary for the full gratification of Christian vengeance. With trifling difficulty Gonzalo-al-Seniz, who enjoyed his confidence and had shared his tent, was persuaded to betray him. The rewards of treachery were definitely stipulated in advance, the principal inducements being a pension of a hundred thousand maravedis and a promise of amnesty. An attempt to take the unfortunate prince alive failed of success; he was killed in the struggle; of his faithful companions, some were cut to pieces, some implored the doubtful clemency of the Christians, and others, after many perilous adventures, succeeded in escaping to Africa. The body of the Morisco king, strapped like a bale of goods upon a beast of burden, was transported to Granada and deposited at the door of the municipal palace. Then preparations were made for a ceremony unparalleled in the history of civilized nations, and whose character shows to what a depth the base descendants of Castilian chivalry had fallen. Proclamation was issued for the celebration of a travesty of regal authority and the offer of a public insult to the dead. At the appointed time a vast multitude of people, attracted by the novelty of the spectacle from every corner of the city and for a distance of many leagues around, crowded the streets and squares of the picturesque old Moorish capital. The line of march led from the Plaza de la Bab-al-Rambla to the foot of the Alhambra hill, a route which in the glorious days of the emirs had been the scene of many a martial triumph. The procession was headed by the corpse of Ibn-Abu, held erect by a concealed wooden framework, which was fastened upon the back of a mule. To insure its preservation, the body had been opened, the viscera extracted, and the cavity filled with salt; it was dressed in the scarlet and gold habiliments of royalty; upon its head was the turban of the khalifs; the face was uncovered, and the pallid, ghastly features seemed, in their fixed and mournful expression, to gaze reproachfully upon the jeering throng. By the side of the mule walked the traitor Gonzalo-al-Seniz, bearing the splendid arms of the king he had betrayed, a cross-bow and a scimetar embossed and damascened with gold. In the rear marched a company of Moriscoes, exempted from the general proscription for participation in this ceremony, laden with the personal effects and the baggage of the Moslem prince. A numerous escort of arquebusiers enclosed the cortége, which was received with becoming pomp by the captain-general and all the military and civil functionaries of the kingdom. As Gonzalo-al-Seniz delivered to the Duke of Arcos the glittering weapons which he carried, he remarked in the figurative language of the Orient, “The shepherd could not bring the sheep alive, but he has brought the fleece.” In the presence of the assembled dignitaries of the realm the head of Ibn-Abu was cut off, and afterwards, placed in an iron cage, was fixed upon the battlements of the gate of Bab-al-Racha, which faced the Alpujarras. The trunk was abandoned to a mob of children, who amused themselves by hacking and disfiguring it until, wearied of this extraordinary pastime, they consumed it in a bonfire.

Such was the unworthy fate of the last of the imperial line of the Ommeyades. Eight hundred years before, Abd-al-Rahman, hunted like a wild animal through the Libyan Desert, had been summoned from a life of obscurity and danger to found a great and powerful empire. Although it rapidly reached its meridian, that empire required many centuries for its final overthrow. The proud dynasty of the Western Khalifate ended as it had begun, in proscription, in exile, in treachery, in violence. The causes which hastened its maturity also contributed largely to its decay. The aspirations of its sovereigns were, on the main, noble and generous. Their services to humanity were of incalculable value and of far-reaching effect. The fire and sword of tyranny and persecution could not efface the lasting impression made by the ideas they promulgated, the science they developed, the literature they created. These survived the tortures of the Inquisition, the anathemas of the Pope, the turmoil of revolution, the funeral pyres of Ximenes. It is a remarkable fact that while the Hispano-Arabs brought within the sphere of their influence and culture the most remote nations, their nearest neighbors were incapable of appreciating their attainments or profiting by their knowledge. The inveterate prejudice against every phase of Moorish life and manners entertained by the Spanish Christians was fatal to their intellectual development. They regarded the intruders as barbarians, as, indeed, the majority of their descendants do even to this day. They were brought in intimate contact with no other form of civilization, and, rather than adopt what their ignorance and fanaticism prompted them to detest and despise, they chose to rely on their own limited resources. In consequence, their mental and social condition, so far from improving, gradually retrograded. The Goths of the age of Roderick were more polished, more intelligent, actuated by better motives, capable of higher aspirations, susceptible to nobler impulses than the Spaniards governed by Charles and Philip. In their progress from the banks of the Vistula to the shores of the Mediterranean, they had encountered many nations long subject to the civilizing influence of Rome. Not a few of them had visited the Eternal City itself. Some had served in the armies of the decaying empire; all had been impressed by the grand and imposing monuments of its magnificence and power. In the court of the last of the Gothic kings were men not unfamiliar with the masterpieces of classic literature. Its publicists had framed a code of laws which is the foundation of every modern system of jurisprudence. In the mechanical arts Gothic skill and industry had made no inconsiderable progress. While feudalism had retarded the development of society, its privileges, contrary to the practice of subsequent times, had not as yet seriously encroached upon the dignity and prerogatives of the throne. The institution of councils under ecclesiastical influence was not entirely subservient to the interests of superstition, and often exercised a wholesome check upon the arbitrary designs of a tyrannical sovereign.

With the Spaniards of the sixteenth century, everything was subordinated to a single principle, the exaltation of the Church. Its servants were the chosen confidants of the monarch; its policy guided his movements, controlled his actions, furnished his ideas, inflamed his prejudices. Whatever was worthy of the name of learning the clergy monopolized and perverted. They diligently fostered the ignorance of the masses, until in all the continent of Europe there is not at the present time a more benighted class than the peasantry of the Spanish Peninsula. The treasures of the world were lavished with unparalleled prodigality upon religious institutions and edifices. A tithe of the wealth squandered upon these vast foundations, whose history is tainted with scandal, would have sufficed, under intelligent direction, to have transformed the entire country into a garden and to have rendered Spain one of the richest of nations. Ecclesiasticism promoted crime and idleness by making beggary respectable, and by countenancing the indiscriminate bestowal of alms as a cardinal virtue. The expulsion of the Jews and the Moriscoes were acts entirely consistent with the general scheme of its polity. They were indispensable for the realization of religious unity, to which every consideration of national welfare, public faith, and individual probity were unhesitatingly sacrificed. The atrocities which accompanied these violent and disastrous measures were regarded as peculiarly meritorious and most acceptable to an avenging God. Upon such insecure foundations was the splendid but unsubstantial fabric of Spanish greatness erected. A sad inheritance has descended to the progeny of those stern warriors who founded an empire on the wreck of civilization, the repudiation of treaties, and the obliteration of entire races from the face of the earth.

The war which had effected the conquest and enslavement of the Moriscoes lasted a little more than three years. No period of the same duration in the history of the Peninsula was fraught with more important consequences. The Spaniards lost by the casualties of battle, exposure, and disease sixty thousand men. The losses of the Moors were much greater; twenty thousand were killed with arms in their hands, but no account has survived of those who were massacred in cold blood. The expense involved in the destruction of the most useful element of the population appalled the corrupt and incompetent financiers of the kingdom. Extraordinary and unwise fiscal methods, devised to remedy the evil, only rendered it more aggravated and desperate. Repeated campaigns of desolation had turned the whole country into a waste. Not only was the material wealth annihilated, but the means of recuperation were forever removed. Under the iron hand of remorseless persecution, industry had vanished. In vain the government offered alluring inducements to immigrants and colonists,—fertile lands, moderate rents, nominal taxation. Few accepted these offers and still fewer remained. The provinces of the South continued a prey to the brigands of the mountains and the corsairs of Barbary. Life and property were notoriously insecure. Castilian pride and indolence were unequal to the patient drudgery which had made hill-side and valley blossom with teeming vegetation; and men whose chosen trade for ages had been war were wholly destitute of the agricultural experience and skill necessary to reproduce these marvellous effects. The royal demesnes, in 1592, yielded annually a sum equal to fifteen thousand dollars; during the closing years of Moslem rule, when the kingdom had been exhausted by incessant war and rebellion, the revenues from this source produced by territory of equal area and fertility had been more than ten times as great. Plundered, tortured, expatriated, the Moriscoes were still subjected to innumerable vexations; the curse of their race was ever upon them. But they were at last comparatively exempt from the odious imputation of heresy. After 1595 the most rigid inquisitorial vigilance was unable or unwilling to detect any heterodox opinions or breaches of ecclesiastical discipline among these unpromising proselytes. And yet it was notorious that they were ignorant of the doctrines of the Church, and that competent persons were not appointed to instruct them. Some zealots, indeed, maintained that they should not be permitted to communicate, and that the exposure of the Host in their churches was a desecration; others, on the other hand, refused absolution to such as would not acknowledge apostasy. Their confessions were often regarded as feigned, and the priests who received them did not hesitate to violate the obligations of their order by divulging privileged confidences to the magistrate. The Morisco could not change his residence without permission; he was not allowed the possession of arms; the approach within forty miles of the kingdom of Granada was punishable with death. Notwithstanding these severe regulations, many succeeded in evading the vigilance of the authorities. Some took refuge in Valencia, where the feudal lords still protected their brethren; others concealed themselves in the Alpujarras; many escaped to Africa. In their new homes they were generally treated with far more indulgence than in the old. Prelates and nobles who profited by their industry not infrequently interposed their influence to prevent persecution, interested officials connived at breaches of the law, and it was a common occurrence for the alguazil appointed to prevent the observance of the feast of Ramadhan to pass his time carousing with those whom it was his office to restrain. The condition of the Moriscoes was also rendered less intolerable by the secret employment of both civil and ecclesiastical dignitaries of high rank and extensive influence, at a regular salary, to guard their rights and frustrate the iniquitous designs of their enemies.

The once flourishing land of Granada was a desert, but the demands of orthodox Christianity at last were satisfied. The devout regarded with unconcealed complacency the fertile territory formerly rich in every variety of agricultural products, and now abandoned to sterility, but which was defiled no longer by the contaminating presence of the heretic and the infidel. But, while the Faith was vindicated by the expulsion of these objects of pious detestation, the secret of prosperity had departed with them. The imported colonists were unable, under new and unfamiliar conditions and heedless of the frugality and patience which insure success, to render their undertakings profitable; indeed, most of them could hardly exist. Their taxes had, in violation of contract and on account of the pressing exigencies of the state, been gradually increased; the demands of importunate creditors and tyrannical officials made them desperate; and these exactions, which exhausted the scanty returns of an ill-conducted cultivation, kept the unfortunate immigrants in a state of hopeless penury. They either abandoned their farms or were forcibly ejected, and in 1597 the royal estates were sold because it was found impossible to operate them at a profit.

While in Granada such discouraging conditions prevailed, those portions of the kingdom which had unwillingly received the banished Moriscoes experienced the beneficial results of their labors. The hitherto barren regions of La Mancha and Estremadura began to exhibit signs of unexampled fertility. The new settlers were peaceable, frugal, industrious. In Castile they were generally farmers; in Aragon, merchants; in Valencia, manufacturers. Not a few attained great distinction in the practice of medicine and surgery; and, like the Jews of former ages, they were frequently employed by the court and the family of the sovereign. The life of Philip III. when a child was saved by the skill of a Moorish physician, a service which was ill-requited by the deeds of his manhood. The exiles practically contributed the funds which supported the monarchy. The insatiable rapacity of adventurers had soon exhausted the available wealth of a magnificent colonial empire. Official corruption constantly drained the ordinary sources of revenue. In all financial difficulties taxation of the Moriscoes afforded an unfailing and profitable means of replenishing the treasury. Their burdens were first doubled, then quadrupled. Every species of imposition was practised upon them. Their debtors paid them in spurious coin, struck for their benefit. False jewels were pledged with them for loans. The chicanery of the law was employed to defraud them with impunity, while the most severe penalties were inflicted upon them for trifling breaches of trust. They were systematically swindled by cheats and usurers. In all possible ways they were made to feel the unmerited degradation of their caste and the utter hopelessness of relief. Yet under this weight of malevolence and injustice they prospered and preserved at least the appearance of equanimity. Nothing could, with truth, be alleged against their morals. They were nominally good Christians. They attended mass. They conformed to the customs of their rulers, wore their dress, participated in their festivals, spoke Castilian. Their regular and temperate lives and their buoyant spirits under misfortune promoted extraordinary longevity. It was by no means unusual to encounter individuals whose age had passed the limit of a century. Early marriages and polygamous unions caused the population to increase with amazing rapidity. The census taken regularly by the Moriscoes to ascertain the proportion of taxes to be levied upon them and to insure its equitable distribution demonstrated conclusively that this growth was in a progressive ratio that was phenomenal in its character. The enumeration made at Valencia in 1602 showed an increase of ten thousand in three years. Modern investigation has established the fact that a population existing under the most favorable economic conditions will double itself every twenty-five years. The Moriscoes were far exceeding that estimate, for their rate of increase was triple. This wonderful augmentation must have been coincident with the highest degree of prosperity, otherwise subsistence could not have been provided for the multitudes of children. This condition was not peculiar to Valencia: it was the same in Aragon, in Castile, in Estremadura, in Andalusia. The Moors who had failed to conquer their enemies by arms now threatened to overwhelm them by sheer force of numbers. The Spaniards, not being sufficiently civilized to take their census regularly or accurately, were ignorant of the numerical strength of their own population, as compared with that of their Moorish subjects; but it was evident that there was a tremendous preponderance in favor of the latter.

The officials became so alarmed that just before the death of Philip II. he was requested to prohibit any further enumeration of the Moriscoes, because it acquainted them with their power and must eventually prove prejudicial to the interests of the monarchy. Besides their menacing increase, which no supervision, however effective, could prevent, they possessed qualities that made them highly obnoxious to their masters. Their frugality and thrift, their shrewdness and enterprise, rendered competition with them impossible. There was no profitable occupation in which they did not excel. In agriculture they had no rivals. They monopolized every industrial employment; all of the most useful trades were under their control. They undersold the Castilian peasantry in their own markets. Even the most opulent, instructed by previous experience, sedulously avoided every exhibition of luxury; but the Moorish artisan had not lost the taste and dexterity of his ancestors, and the splendid products of the loom and the armory still commanded high prices in the metropolitan cities of Europe. It was known that the Moriscoes were wealthy, and popular opinion, as is invariably the case, delighted in exaggerating the value of their possessions. While they sold much, they consumed comparatively little and purchased even less. Although the offence of heresy could no longer be consistently imputed to them, specious considerations of public policy, as well as deference to ineradicable national prejudice, demanded their suppression. Their prosperity, secured at the expense of their neighbors, and a standing reproach to the idleness and incapacity of the latter, was the measure of Spanish decay. In the existing state of the public mind, and under the direction of the statesmen who controlled the actions of the King, a pretext could readily be found for the perpetration of any injustice. The Moriscoes of Valencia, the most numerous, wealthy, and influential body of their race, protected by the nobles, had always shown less alacrity in the observance of the duties of the Church than their brethren, and had thus rendered themselves liable to the suspicion of apostasy. It was declared that after a generation of espionage, prayer, and religious instruction they were still secret Mussulmans. This opinion, perhaps in some instances not without foundation, amounted to absolute certainty in the narrow mind of Don Juan de Ribera, Archbishop of Valencia, a prelate of vindictive temper, arbitrary disposition, limited abilities, and violent prejudices. He owed much of his reputation for piety to the fact that he had denounced to the Inquisition more than four thousand alleged Moorish apostates. Knowing his feelings towards them, the Moriscoes generally turned a deaf ear to his admonitions and threats, and thus further incurred his displeasure. The energy of Ribera was incessantly exerted for the ruin of these supposed heretics, either by exile or by extermination. With this end in view he addressed several memorials to Philip III., who had now ascended the throne, in which the objects of his wrath were accused of every crime against the civil and the moral law,—treason, murder, kidnapping, blasphemy, sacrilege. In these appeals the Moriscoes were called “the sponge that absorbed the riches of Spain.” He enforced his arguments by the extraordinary statement that the destruction of the Armada was a divine judgment for the indulgence exhibited towards these enemies of the Faith, and that Philip II. was aware of it, for he himself had informed him of that fact. The recent occurrence of earthquakes, tempests, and comets was also sagely attributed to the same cause. The Moriscoes were not ignorant of the designs which the Archbishop was prosecuting to their injury, and endeavored to obtain the assistance of France and England, both of which countries were then hostile to Spain. They offered King Henry IV. the services of a hundred thousand well-armed soldiers if he would invade the Peninsula. The Duke of Sully says they even signalized their willingness to embrace Protestantism in consideration of support, it being a form of worship not tainted with idolatry, like that of Rome. Negotiations were privately opened with the courts of Paris and London, and commissions were even appointed by the latter to verify the claims of the Moriscoes; but no conclusion was arrived at, and the plot was eventually betrayed by the very sovereigns whose honor was pledged to the maintenance of secrecy. An embassy was also sent to the Sultan of Turkey by the Moors, soliciting his aid and tendering him their allegiance. No plan which promised relief was neglected. The furious Ribera again urged upon the King the dangers that the toleration of such a numerous and perfidious people implied; he alleged their prosperity and their superior intelligence as crimes against the state; and as absolute extermination did not seem to be feasible, he suggested expulsion as of greater inconvenience, but of equal efficacy. Once more the nobles interposed in behalf of their vassals, and while the King was hesitating the Moriscoes endeavored to anticipate his decision by the formation of an extensive conspiracy. Again they were betrayed, this time by one of their own number. Public opinion, aroused by these occurrences, and further inflamed by ecclesiastical malice and by the pernicious influence of the Duke of Lerma, the all-powerful minister of Philip III., now imperatively demanded their banishment. This nobleman, of base antecedents and unprincipled character, and whose dominating passion was avarice, was Viceroy of Valencia. His brother was the Grand Inquisitor Their influence easily overweighed the remonstrances of the Pope, whose voice was raised on the side of mercy.

On the fourth of August, 1609, the royal decree which announced the fate of the Moriscoes of Valencia was signed at Segovia. No precaution which prudence could suggest was neglected to prevent disaster consequent upon its enforcement. Great bodies of troops were placed under arms. The frontiers of the kingdom were patrolled by cavalry. Seventy-seven ships of war, the largest in the navy, were assembled on the coast. In every town the garrison was doubled. Several thousand veterans disembarked from the fleet and were distributed at those points where the Morisco population was most numerous. Such preparations left no alternative but submission, and the Valencians, anticipating the final movement which would deliver the unhappy Moors into their hands, began to rob and persecute them without pity. Even after all had been arranged for the removal, the nobles urged Philip to revoke an order which must cause incalculable injury to his kingdom. The most solemn and binding guarantees were offered for the public safety and for the peaceable behavior of the Moriscoes. It was demonstrated that the manufacturing and agricultural interests of the entire monarchy were involved; that a population of a million souls, whose industry represented of itself a source of wealth which could not be replaced, would be practically exterminated; that the educational and religious foundations of the realm alone received from Moorish tributaries an annual sum exceeding a million doubloons of gold. It was also shown that the vassals of the Valencian nobles paid them each year four million ducats, nearly thirty-two million dollars. The alleged conspiracies were imputed to the malice of the monks, who invented them in the cloister; the heresies to ignorance of the clergy, too idle or too negligent to afford their parishioners instruction. The evil results of the iniquitous decree had already begun to manifest themselves. The cultivation of the soil had almost ceased. The markets were deserted. Commerce languished, and the Moriscoes, to avoid the insults of the populace to which they were now subjected, only appeared in the streets when impelled to do so by absolute necessity. The Archiepiscopal See of Valencia, which derived its revenues almost entirely from Morisco taxation, was threatened with bankruptcy, and Don Juan de Ribera, realizing when too late the disastrous consequences of the project he had so sedulously advocated, now in vain endeavored to stem the tide of public bigotry and official madness. While bewailing his unhappy condition to his clerical subordinates, he was heard to plaintively remark, “My brethren, hereafter we shall be compelled to live upon herbs and to mend our own shoes.”

Philip refused to reconsider his determination, and the nobility manifested their loyalty by the unflinching support of a measure running directly counter to their interests. On the twenty-second of September, 1609, the edict of expulsion was proclaimed by heralds throughout the kingdom of Valencia. It represented that by a special act of royal clemency “the heretics, apostates, traitors, criminals guilty of lése-majesté human and divine,” were punished with exile rather than with death, to which the strict construction of the laws condemned them. It permitted the removal of such effects as could be carried, and as much of their harvests as was necessary for subsistence during their journey; all else was to be forfeited to their suzerains. They were forbidden to sell their lands or houses. Three days of preparation were granted; after that they were declared the legitimate prey of every assailant. Dire penalties were denounced against all who should conceal them or in any way assist in the evasion of the edict. Those who had intermarried with Christians could remain, if they desired; and six per cent. of the families were to be reserved by the lords, that the horticultural and mechanical dexterity which had enriched the country might not be absolutely extinguished. These subjects of interested clemency refused to accept this invidious concession, however, and hastened to join their countrymen beyond the sea.

The wretched Moriscoes received the tidings of their expatriation with almost the despair with which they would have listened to a sentence of death. Astonishment, arising from the suddenness of the notice and the inadequate time allotted them for preparation, was mingled with their dismay. The traditions of centuries, the souvenirs of national glory, the memory of their ancestors, contributed to endear them to their native land. There were centred the most cherished associations of a numerous and cultivated race. All around were the visible signs of thrift and opulence and their results, won by laborious exertion from the soil. The disfigured but still magnificent monuments of fallen dynasties recalled the departed glory of Arab genius and Moslem power. The loss of their wealth, the sacrifice of their possessions, portended the endurance of calamities for which they were ill-prepared, and of whose dreadful character their most gloomy apprehensions could convey no adequate conception. In every Moorish community appeared the signs of unutterable misery and woe. The shrieks of frenzied women pierced the air. Old men sobbed upon the hearthstones where had been passed the happy days of infancy and youth. Overcome with grief, life-long friends met in the streets without notice or salutation. Even little children, unable to comprehend, yet awed by the prevailing sorrow, ceased their play to mingle their tears with those of their parents.

As the disconsolate and sobbing multitude, urged on by the ferocious soldiery taught by their religion to regard these victims of national prejudice as the enemies of Christ, left their homes behind forever, their trials and sufferings increased with their progress. The government provided them with neither food, shelter, nor transportation. The difficulties of the march were aggravated by clouds of dust and by the pitiless heat of summer. Many were born on the highway. Great numbers fell from exhaustion. Some, in desperation, committed suicide. Every straggler was butchered by the armed rabble which, equally ravenous for plunder or blood, constantly hung on the flanks of the slowly moving column. Many were assassinated by Old Christians, men of Moorish ancestry, the conversion of whose forefathers dated before the Conquest, and who told their beads and muttered prayers after each murder, as if they had committed an action acceptable to God. The armed brigands who composed the escort vied with the mob in their atrocities. The men were openly killed, the women violated. Their property was appropriated by force. Some died of hunger. Parents, in their extremity, became so oblivious of the instincts of nature as to barter their children for a morsel of bread. When they embarked for Africa they fared even worse than they had done on land. On the sea the opportunities for outrage were multiplied, the means of escape and detection diminished. No pen can portray the horrors visited upon the unhappy Moriscoes, helpless in the midst of savage enemies who were insensible to pity, hardened by cruelty, and dominated by the furious lust of beauty and gold.

The decree was not received everywhere with the same submission as at the city of Valencia. There the exiles, overawed by the large military force, yielded without disturbance. Half-crazed by misfortune, they even feigned exultation, marched on board the ships dressed in holiday costume and headed by bands of music, and in token of delight gave themselves up to the most extravagant exhibitions of joy. Some kissed the shore, others plunged into the sea, others again quaffed the briny water as if it were a delicious beverage. Before embarking they sold much of their property, and articles of great elegance and beauty—curiously wrought vessels of gold and enamel, silken veils embroidered with silver, magnificent garments—were disposed of for a small fraction of their value. During these transactions, and in settlement of their passage to Africa, the Moriscoes succeeded in placing in circulation an immense amount of counterfeit money which they had obtained in Catalonia, thus literally paying the Spaniards in their own coin. The portable wealth of which the kingdom was deprived by their banishment cannot be estimated. It amounted, however, to many millions of ducats. Some of the exiles were known to possess a hundred thousand pieces of gold, an enormous fortune in those times. It was ascertained after their departure that their lords, in defiance of law, had purchased many of their estates, and had connived at the sale or concealment of a great amount of their personal property. Those who succeeded in reaching the cities were received with courteous hospitality, but the desert tribes showed scant mercy to the multitudes that fell into their hands.

Elsewhere in the kingdom the Moriscoes stubbornly resisted the decree of expatriation. The Sierra de Bernia and the Vale of Alahuar were the scene of the most serious disturbances, and at one time twenty thousand insurgents were in the field. Armed for the most part with clubs, their valor was ineffectual in the presence of veteran troops. The women alone were spared; the men were butchered; the brains of children were beaten out against the walls. The garrison of the castle of Pop, which for a few weeks defied the Spanish army, alone obtained advantageous terms. Of the one hundred and fifty thousand Moors exiled from Valencia, at least two-thirds perished. A large number had previously succumbed to persecution or had escaped, and including these the total number of victims of the inauguration of the insane policy of Philip III. was at least two hundred thousand. The continuance of that policy until its aim had been fully accomplished had already been determined on by the councillors of the King. The secrecy which concealed their design did not impose upon those who were the objects of it. They began by tens of thousands to emigrate quietly to Africa. Then the decree, which had been signed a month before, was published, with an attempt to give the impression that it had been provoked by a circumstance of which it was really the cause, namely, the agitation of the Moriscoes. The latter were peremptorily commanded to leave the kingdom within eight days. They were forbidden to take with them money, gold, jewels, bills of exchange, or merchandise. They were not permitted to dispose of their estates. In Catalonia their property was confiscated, “in satisfaction of debts which they might have owed to Christians,” and three days only were allowed them in which to prepare for departure. Their little children were to be left behind to the tender mercies of their oppressors, in order that their salvation might be assured. Those of the northern provinces were prohibited from moving southward; those of Andalusia were directed to emigrate by sea. Within the allotted time all were in motion. The embarkation of the exiles destined for Africa was effected without difficulty. But their brethren of Castile and Aragon were refused admission into France, by the direct order of Henry IV., to whose agency was largely attributable their deplorable condition. His opportune death somewhat relaxed official severity, and a great number entered Provence. Although they were peaceable and inoffensive, the French were anxious to be rid of their unwelcome guests. Free transportation was furnished them by the city of Marseilles, and they were distributed through Turkey, Italy, and Africa. So many died during the passage by sea that their dead bodies encumbered the beach, and the peasants refused for a long time to eat fish, declaring that it had the taste of human flesh. The progress of the unfortunates driven northward was marked by daily scenes of persecution and agony. The commissioners appointed to supervise the emigration connived at the evasion of the decree for their own profit. They extorted enormous sums for protection, which their duty required them to afford without compensation, and which, even after these impositions, was insolently denied. Those things which the ordinary dictates of humanity delight to bestow were sold to the hapless wanderers at fabulous prices. For the shade of the trees on the highway the grasping and unprincipled peasant exacted a rental; and the water dipped from the streams in the trembling hands of the sufferers commanded a higher price than that usually paid for the wine of the country. The little which the commissioners overlooked was seized by rapacious French officials, and the condition of the Moriscoes was still further aggravated by the absconding of those of their number to whom the common purse had been intrusted.

In the merciless proscription thus imposed upon an entire people, an insignificant number temporarily escaped. In the latter were included young children torn from their parents to be educated by the Church, and such persons “of good life and religion” as the clergy, through interested or generous motives, chose to recommend to royal indulgence. In 1611 the exemption enjoyed by these classes was removed; searching inquiry was instituted throughout the kingdom, and every individual of Moorish blood who could be discovered was inexorably condemned to banishment or slavery. By the persecution of the Moriscoes and the losses by war, assassination, voluntary emigration, and enforced exile, Spain was deprived of the services of more than a million of the most intelligent, laborious, and skilful subjects in Christendom. Those who were finally excluded were probably not more than half of the entire Moorish population. No statistics are accessible in our day from which an estimate can be formed of the vast number that perished by famine, by torture, by massacre. Their trials were not at an end even in Africa; they were pursued for sectarian differences, and some who were sincere Christians returned to Spain, where they were at once sentenced to the galleys. The skill and thrift of the Moriscoes, qualities which should have made them desirable, rendered them everywhere unpopular; they monopolized the trade of the Barbary coast, even driving out the Jews; in Algiers the populace rose against them, all were expelled, and large numbers were remorselessly butchered. Hatred of their oppressors induced many of hitherto peaceful occupations to embrace the trade of piracy, and the southern coast of the Peninsula had reason to long remember the exploits of the Morisco corsairs.

The ruthless barbarity, the blind and reckless folly of this measure, was followed by an everlasting curse of barrenness, ignorance, and penury. The sudden removal of enormous amounts of portable wealth deranged every kind of trade. The circulation of counterfeit money impaired public confidence. In Valencia four hundred and fifty villages were abandoned. The absence of the most industrious and prosperous class of its inhabitants was apparent in every community of Castile. Catalonia lost three-quarters of its population. The districts of Aragon rendered desolate by Moorish expulsion have never been repeopled. Agricultural science and mechanical skill disappeared. The hatred and disdain entertained by the Spaniards for the conquered race had never permitted them to profit by the experience and ingenuity of the latter. Intercourse with a Moor brought moral and social contamination. Still less could the admission of inferiority, which the adoption of his methods implied, be tolerated by the haughty, the vainglorious, the impecunious hidalgo.

The effects of the discouragement of all forms of art and industry consequent upon war and persecution had been felt long previous to the expulsion of the Moriscoes in every part of the Peninsula. For many years after the capture of Cordova by Ferdinand III., it was found necessary to bring provisions from the North, not only for the support of the army, but to rescue from famine the sparse and thriftless population of a province which under the Ommeyade khalifs maintained with ease the great capital, as well as twelve thousand villages and hamlets.

The decline in the number of inhabitants under Spanish rule indicates the utter stagnation of trade and agriculture. In 1492 the population of Castile was six and three-quarter million; in 1700 there were in the entire kingdom of Spain but six million souls—such had been the significant retrogression in two hundred years.

The combined revenues of the Spanish Crown at the close of the fifteenth century amounted to a sum equal to three hundred thousand dollars, about one-thousandth of the annual receipts of the imperial treasury at the death of Abd-al-Rahman III., seven hundred years before.

Fifty years after the banishment of the Moors, the combined population of the cities of Cordova, Seville, Toledo, Granada, had decreased by more than four-fifths; it is now about one-tenth of its amount during the Moslem domination. In 1788 there were fifteen hundred and eleven deserted towns in the Peninsula. Toledo, celebrated for its silken fabrics, in the latter part of the fifteenth century had sixty thousand looms; in 1651 it had five thousand; to-day it has none. The same industry was pursued with great success at Seville; in the seventeenth century the number of its looms had decreased from sixteen thousand to sixteen. All other branches of manufactures declined in the same proportion. Even a large part of the kingdom of Valencia, the garden of Europe, was for years an uninhabited wilderness. With the Moslem expulsion the knowledge of many arts, once the source of great profit, was hopelessly lost.

To the pious Spaniard all these sacrifices were as nothing when compared with the triumph of the Faith. The ports were unoccupied, the quays grass-grown, but the armies of the Cross had conquered. The manufactories had fallen into decay, the streets were silent, the highways were deserted except by the timorous traveller and the lurking robber, but not a Moslem or a Jewish heretic was to be encountered in His Most Catholic Majesty’s dominions. At the close of the seventeenth century, throughout the entire Peninsula, once the centre of learning in Europe, the resort of scholars of every land, the seat of the greatest educational institutions of the Middle Ages, not a single academy existed where instruction could be obtained in astronomy, natural philosophy, or any branch of mathematics. A hundred years later no one could be found who understood even the rudiments of chemistry. To-day, among the inhabitants of Spain, according to the published tables of statistics, only one person in every four can read. But what mattered the destruction of commerce, the decay of production, the dearth of intelligence, if the land was purged of false doctrines?, Was it not a source of national congratulation that ecclesiastical authority was once more paramount; that half of the able-bodied population, male and female, were devoted to monastic life; that magnificent religious foundations, such as the world had never before seen, arose on every side; that, though the royal treasury was bankrupt, the annual revenues of the Church amounted to nearly fifty-three million dollars? Surely these manifold divine blessings were not to be weighed with the transitory benefits derived from the labors of a mass of perverse and unregenerate heretics!

The results, both immediate and remote, of this crime against civilization thus proved fatal to Spain. Its principal sources of subsistence removed, the kingdom was desolated by famine. It became necessary to extend public aid to many noble families, once affluent, but now impoverished by the suicidal course of the crown. Popular sentiment, exasperated by distress, denounced in unsparing terms the authors of the national calamity. The Archbishop of Valencia, unable to endure the daily reproaches to which he was subjected, and overcome by the sufferings for which he was responsible, died of remorse. Silence and gloom occupied vast tracts formerly covered by exuberant vegetation. In the place of the farmer and the mechanic appeared the brigand and the outlaw. Deprived of protection, the open country was abandoned; the peasantry sought the security of fortified places, and all occupations whose pursuit implied exposure to the danger of violence were necessarily suspended. The conditions controlling every rank of society which were established in the Peninsula by the blind and savage prejudices of the seventeenth century are largely prevalent to-day. A dreadful retribution has followed a tragedy whose example happily no other nation has ventured to imitate; and which, from the hour of its occurrence, has afflicted with every misfortune to the last generation the people responsible for its hideous atrocities.