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Title: Spain and Her Colonies (World's Best Histories) - Compiled from the Best Authorities
Author: Wilberforce, Archibald
Language: English
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             [Illustration: ALFONSO XIII., KING OF SPAIN]

                      THE WORLD’S BEST HISTORIES


                           AND HER COLONIES

                       BY ARCHIBALD WILBERFORCE

                          _WITH FRONTISPIECE_


                          NEW YORK AND LONDON

                           AND HER COLONIES



SPAIN IN ANTIQUITY                                                     7


THE CALIPHATE OF CORDOVA                                              16


MEDIEVAL SPAIN                                                        30


MOORISH SPAIN                                                         61


THE INQUISITION                                                       83


THEIR CATHOLIC MAJESTIES                                             100


UNITED SPAIN                                                         140


MODERN SPAIN                                                         162


COLONIAL SPAIN                                                       206


THE FALL OF AN EMPIRE                                                225


THE PHILIPPINES                                                      251


THE HISPANO-AMERICAN WAR                                             320


SPANISH ART, LITERATURE, AND SPORT                                   351

I. Painting and Architecture                                         351

II. Spanish Literature                                               370

III. Sport                                                           379

APPENDIX                                                             393





Hispania was the name by which the Romans called the peninsula which is
made up of Spain and Portugal. The origin of the name is disputed. To
the Greeks the country was known as Hesperia--the Land of the Setting
Sun. According to Mariana,[1] Spain is called after its founder,
Hispanus, a son or grandson of Hercules. But, for reasons hereinafter
related, better authorities derive it from the Phœnician _Span_.

There is a legend which Mariana recites, to the effect that the primal
laws of Spain were written in verse, and framed six thousand years
before the beginning of Time. To medieval makers of chronicles, Tubal,
fifth son of Japhet, was the first to set foot on its shore. But earlier
historians, ignorant of Noah’s descendant, and, it may be, better
informed, hold that after the episodes connected with the Golden Fleece,
the Argonauts, guided by Hercules, sailed the seas and loitered a while
in Spain, where they were joined by refugees escaping from the totter
and fall of Troy. Black was their national color. It has been retained
in the mantillas of to-day. After the Greek adventurers came the
Phœnicians. The latter, a peaceful people, born traders, as are all of
Semitic origin, founded a colony at Gaddir (Cadiz). In a remoter era
they had established themselves at Canaan, where they built Bylos, Sidon
and Tyre. From Tyre emigrants moved to Africa. Their headquarters was
Kartha-Hadath, literally Newtown, that Carthage in whose ruins Marius
was to weep. The Phœnicians, as has been noted, were a peaceful people.
Under a burning sun their younger brothers developed into tigers. They
had the storm for ally. They ravaged the coast like whirlwinds. They
took Sicily, then Sardinia. Presently there was a quarrel at Gaddir. It
was only natural that the Phœnicians should ask aid of their relatives.
The Carthaginians responded, and, finding the country to their taste,
took possession of it on their own account. To the Romans, with whom
already they had crossed swords, they said nothing of this new
possession. It seemed wiser to leave it unmentioned than to guard it
with protecting, yet disclosive, treaties. More than once they scuttled
their triremes--suspicious sails were following them to its shore. From
this vigilance the name of Spain is derived. In Punic, _Span_ signifies

The hiding of Spain was possible when the Romans were still in the
nursery. But when the Romans grew up, when they had conquered Greece,
and all of Italy was theirs, their enterprises developed. Up to this
time the two nations had been almost allies. At once they were open
rivals. It was a question between them as to whom the world should

The arguments on this subject, known as the Punic Wars, were three in
number. The first resulted in a loss of Sicily and Sardinia. In the
second, Spain went. In the third, Carthage was razed to the ground.

It was with the conquest of Sagentum--a conquest not achieved until the
surviving inhabitants of that beleaguered city had committed
suicide--that annexation began. Then, slowly, at one time advancing, at
another retreating, now defeated, now defeating, the Romans promenaded
their eagles down the coast. Scipio came and watched the
self-destruction of the Numantians, as Hannibal had watched the
Sagentums fall. Pompey, boasting that he had made the Republic mistress
of a thousand towns, came too; and after him Cæsar, who, long before, as
simple quæstor, had wept at Cadiz because of Alexander, who at his age
had conquered the world--Cæsar, his face blanched with tireless
debauches, came back and gave the land its _coup de grace_. In this
fashion, with an unhealed wound in every province, Spain crawled down to
Augustus’s feet. A toga was thrown over her. When it was withdrawn the
wounds had healed. She was a Roman province, the most flourishing,
perhaps, and surely the most fair.

The fusion of the two peoples was immediate. The native soldiery were
sent off to bleed in the four corners of the globe, to that Ultima Thule
where the Britons lived and which it took years to reach, or nearer home
in Gaul, or else far to the north among the Teuton States; and, in the
absence of an element which might have turned ugly, the Romans found it
easy work to open school. They had always been partial to Greek
learning, and they inculcated it on the slightest pretext. They imported
their borrowed Pantheon, their local Hercules, all the metamorphosed and
irritable gods, and with becoming liberality added to them those
divinities whom their adopted children most revered. It was in this way
that the fusion of the two races came about. When Augustus assumed the
purple, throughout the entire peninsula Latin was generally in use. It
was not of the purest, to be sure. It had been beaten in with the sword,
the accent was rough and the construction bristled with barbarisms; but
still it was Latin, and needed only a generation of sandpaper to become
polished and refined. But perhaps the least recognized factor in the
fusion of the two peoples was a growing and common taste for polite
literature. Such as the Romans possessed was, like their architecture,
their science, philosophy and religion, borrowed outright from the
Greeks. They were hungry for new ideas. These the Spaniards undertook to
provide. They had descended from a race whose fabulous laws were written
in verse, and something of that legendary inspiration must have
accompanied them through ages of preceding strife, for suddenly Boetica
was peopled with poets. In connection with this it may be noted that,
apart from the crop of Augustan rhymsters and essayists, almost
everything in the way of literature which Rome subsequently produced is
the work of Spaniards. Lucan and the Senecas were Boeticans--Martial,
Florus, Quintillian, Pomponius Mila were all of that race. J’en passe et
des meilleurs. The Romans, trained by the Greeks, were, it is true, the
teachers. Under their heavy hand the young Andalusians lost their way
among the clouds of Aristophanes, just as we have done ourselves; they
spouted the _Tityre tu_, and the _arma virum_, they followed the Odyssey
and learned that, in ages as remote to them as they are to us, Ulysses
had visited their coast. Indeed the Romans did what they could, and if
their pupils surpassed them it was owing to the lack-luster of their own
imaginations. But the education of backward Spain was not limited to
Greek poets and Augustan bores. Lessons in drawing were given, not as an
extra, but as part of the ordinary curriculum. The sciences, too, were
taught, the blackboard was brought into use, and Euclid--another
Greek--was expounded on the very soil that under newer conquerors was to
produce the charms and seductions of Algebra. Added to this, industry
was not neglected. The Romans got from them not poets alone, but
woolens, calicoes, and barbers too, emperors even. Trajan was an
Andalou, so was Hadrian, and so also was that sceptered misanthrope
Marcus Aurelius. As for arms, it is written in blood that the Romans
would have no others than those which came from Spain. The plebs dressed
themselves there. Strabo says that all the ready-made clothing came from
Tarragona. From Malaga, which in a fair wind was but six days’ sail from
the Tiber’s mouth, came potted herring, fat, black grapes that stained
the chin, and wax yellow as amber. From Cadiz came the rarest purple,
wine headier than Falernian, honey sweeter than that of Hymettus, and
jars of pale, transparent oil. To Iviça the Romans sent their togas;
there was a baphia there, a dyeing establishment, which, to be simply
charming, needed but the signboard _Morituri te salutamus_. And from the
banks of the Betis there came for the lupanars girls with the Orient in
their eyes, and lips that said “Drink me.” In this pleasant fashion
Rome, after conquering Spain, sat down to banquet on her products. The
Imperial City then was not unlike a professional pugilist who is unable
to find a worthy opponent; possible rivals had been slugged into
subjection. Perhaps she was weary, too. However great the future of a
combatant may be, there comes an hour when contention palls and peace
has charms. In any event, Rome at that time was more occupied in
assimilating her dominions than in extending the wonders of her sway.
And it was during this caprice that Spain found her fifty races fused in
one. On the distant throne was a procession of despots, terribly
tyrannical, yet doing what good they could. In return for flowers,
fruits and pretty girls, they gave roads, aqueducts, arenas, games and
vice. Claud introduced new fashions; Nero, the saturnalia. Each of the
emperors did what he was able, even to Hadrian, who increased the number
of Jews. It was during his reign that were felt the first tremors of
that cataclysm in which antiquity was to disappear. Rome was so
thoroughly mistress of the world that to master her Nature had to
produce new races. The parturitions, as we know, were successful.
Already the blue victorious eyes of Vandal and of Goth were peering down
at Rome; already they had whispered together, and over the hydromel had
drunk to her fall.

The Goths were a wonderful people. When they first appear in history
their hair was tossed and tangled by the salt winds of the Baltic.
Later, when in tattered furs they issued from the fens of the Danube,
they startled the hardiest warriors of the world, the descendants of
that nursling of the gaunt she-wolf. Little by little from vagabond
herders they consolidated first into tribes, then into a nation, finally
into an army that beat at the gates of Rome. There they loitered a
moment, a century at most. When they receded again with plunder and with
slaves they left an emperor behind. Soon they were more turbulent than
ever. They swept over antiquity like a tide, their waves subsiding only
to rise anew. And just as the earth was oscillating beneath their
weight, from the steppes of Tartary issued cyclones of Huns. Where they
passed, the plains remained forever bare. In the shock of their
onslaught the empire of the Goths was sundered. Some of them, the
Ostrogoths, went back to their cattle, others, the Visigoths, went down
to have another word with Rome. It was then that their cousins the
Vandals got their fingers on her throat and frightened the world with
her cries. In the strain of incessant shrieks the Imperial City fell.
From out the ruins a mitered prelate dragged a throne. Paganism had been
strangled; antiquity was dead; new creeds and new races were
refurbishing the world. Among the latter the Goths still prowled. In the
advance through the centuries, in the journey from the Baltic to the
Mediterranean, in the friction with the Attic refinement which the
Romans had acquired, the Goths left some of their barbarism on the
road--not much, however. Historians have it that when they took
possession of Spain they manifested a love of art, a desire for culture,
and that they affected the manners and usages of polite society. But
historians are privileged liars. The majority of those who have treated
the subject admired the Goths because they fancied them Christians, and
in the admiration they placed them in flattering contrast to their
predecessors who were pagans, and to their successors who were
Muhammadans. As a matter of fact--one that is amply attested in local
chronicles--they were coarse, illiterate and stupid as carps; moreover,
they were not Christians, they were Arians, and they were Arians
precisely as they were Goths--they were born so. To the dogma of the
Trinity and the consubstantiability or non-consubstantiability of Jesus
the Christ they were as ignorant as of the formation of the earth.
Throughout Europe at that time not a thread of light was discernible.
The dark ages had begun. In the general obscurity the Goths were not a
bit more brilliant than their neighbors. Under their hand civilization
disappeared; in return they gave the Spanish nothing but gutturals and a
taste for chicanery. In ninety and nine cases, the specimens of
architecture which cheap-trippers admire as due to them are of Saracen
workmanship. The monuments which they did erect are not disproportioned
perhaps; yet, whatever the casuist may affirm, there is still a margin
between the commonplace and the beautiful. In brief, to the Visigoths
the world owes less than nothing. They let Andalusia retrograde for
three hundred years, and delayed the discovery and development of
America. Previous to their coming Cadiz had been a famous seaport. The
Romans called it The Ship of Stone. Its sons had been immemorial
explorers. The presentiment of another land across the sea was theirs by
intuition. They were constantly extending their expeditions. They were
in love with the sunset, they sailed as near it as they could, returned
for more provisions, and sailed again; nearer, and ever nearer that way.
To the Church the theory of the antipodes was an abominable heresy. It
was taught that the earth was a flat parallelogram, its extremities
walled by mountains that supported the skies. Lactance was particularly
vehement on this point, so too was St. Jerome. Vergilius in asserting
the contrary threw Christendom into indignant convulsions. It may be
remembered that the most serious obstacle which Columbus subsequently
encountered lay in the decisions of the Fathers. Now Cadiz had been more
or less converted before the advent of the Visigoths, but it had not for
that reason put aside its habits and customs. It continued to be
essentially maritime; but when the Visigoths came, navigation
languished, the Ship of Stone no longer turned to the west, it foundered
in a sea of ignorance which was then undiked, and the possible discovery
of America was indefinitely postponed. By way of compensation, the
Visigoths framed a code of laws the spirit of which still survives, and
which is serviceable in showing that the framers possessed two distinct
traits, a love of agriculture and a hatred of Jews. Traits which are
significant when it is understood that it was through agriculture they
were supported and through the Jews they were overthrown. It was the
Jews that beckoned the Berbers and their masters the Arabs--the Moors,
as those Arabs were called who had deserted the deserts for the African




It was in 712 that Spain, after remaining for nearly three centuries in
the possession of the Visigoths, fell under the yoke of the Saracens.
For some time past, from a palace at Tandjah (Tangiers), a Mussulman
emir had been eyeing the strip of blue water which alone separated him
from that Andalusia which, like the other parts of this world and all of
the next, had been promised to the followers of Muhammad. The invasion
that ensued was singularly pacific. The enthusiasm which distinguished
the youthful period of Muhammadism might account for the conquest which
followed, even if we could not assign additional causes--the factions
into which the Goths had become divided, the resentment of disappointed
pretenders to the throne, the provocations of one Count Julian, whose
daughter, seduced by Roderic, the last of the Gothic kings, caused him,
it is said, to urge the Moors to come over. It is more surprising that a
remnant of this ancient monarchy should not only have preserved its
national liberty and name in the northern mountains, but waged for some
centuries a successful, and generally an offensive, warfare against the
conquerors, till the balance was completely turned in its favor and the
Moors were compelled to maintain almost as obstinate and protracted a
contest for a small portion of the peninsula. But the Arabian monarchs
of Cordova found in their success and imagined security a pretext for
indolence; even in the cultivation of science and contemplation of the
magnificent architecture of their mosques and palaces they forgot their
poor but daring enemies in the Asturias; while, according to the nature
of despotism, the fruits of wisdom or bravery in one generation were
lost in the follies and effeminacy of the next. Their kingdom was
dismembered by successful rebels, who formed the states of Toledo,
Huesca, Saragossa, and others less eminent; and these, in their own
mutual contests, not only relaxed their natural enmity toward the
Christian princes, but sometimes sought their alliance.

Be that as it may, of all who had entered Spain, whether Greek,
Phœnician, Vandal or Goth, the Moors were the most tolerant. The worship
of God was undisturbed. The temples were not only preserved, new ones
were built. In every town they entered, presto! a mosque and a school,
and mosques and schools that were entrancing as song. On the banks of
the Betis, renamed the Great River, Al-Ouad-al-Kebyr (Guadalquivir),
twelve hundred villages bloomed like roses in June. From three hundred
thousand filigreed pulpits the glory of Allah, and of Muhammad his
prophet, was daily proclaimed.

They were superb fellows, these Moors. In earlier ages the restless
Bedouins, their ancestors, were rather fierce, and when the degenerate
Sabaism they professed was put aside for the lessons of Muhammad, they
were not only fierce, they were fanatic as well. A drop of blood shed
for Allah, equaled, they were taught, whole months of fasting and of
prayer. Thereafter, they preached with the scimiter. But in time, that
great emollient, they grew less dogmatic. In the ninth century the court
of Haroûn al Raschid was a free academy in which all the arts were
cultivated and enjoyed. Under the Moors, Cordova surpassed Bagdad.

In the tenth century it was the most beautiful and most civilized city
of Europe. Concerning it Burke, in his “History of Spain”--a work to
which we are much indebted--writes as follows:

     There was the Caliph’s Palace of Flowers, his Palace of
     Contentment, his Palace of Lovers, and, most beautiful of all, the
     Palace of Damascus. Rich and poor met in the Mezquita, the noblest
     place of worship then standing in Europe, with its twelve hundred
     marble columns, and its twenty brazen doors; the vast interior
     resplendent with porphyry and jasper and many-colored precious
     stones, the walls glittering with harmonious mosaics, the air
     perfumed with incense, the courtyards leafy with groves of orange
     trees--showing apples of gold in pictures of silver. Throughout the
     city, there were fountains, basins, baths, with cold water brought
     from the neighboring mountains, already carried in the leaden pipes
     that are the highest triumph of the modern plumber.

But more wonderful even than Cordova itself was the suburb and palace of
Az Zahra. For five-and-twenty years the Caliph Abdur Rahman devoted to
the building of this royal fancy one-third of the revenues of the
State; and the work, on his death, was piously continued by his son,
who devoted the first fifteen years of his reign to its completion. For
forty years ten thousand workmen are said to have toiled day by day, and
the record of the refinement as well as the magnificence of the
structure, as it approached completion, almost passes belief. It is said
that in a moment of exaltation the Caliph gave orders for the removal of
the great mountain at whose foot the fairy city was built, as the dark
shade of the forests that covered its sides overshadowed the gilded
palace of his creation.

Convinced of the impossibility of his enterprise, An Nasir was content
that all the oaks and beech trees that grew on the mountain side should
be rooted up; and that fig trees, and almonds, and pomegranates should
be planted in their place; and thus the very hills and forests of Az
Zahra were decked with blossom and beauty.

Travelers from distant lands, men of all ranks and professions, princes,
embassadors, merchants, pilgrims, theologians and poets, all agreed that
they had never seen in the course of their travels anything that could
be compared with Az Zahra, and that no imagination, however fertile,
could have formed an idea of its beauties. Of this marvelous creation of
Art and Fancy not one stone remains upon another--not a vestige to mark
the spot on which it stood; and it is hard to reconstruct from the dry
records of Arab historians the fairy edifice of which we are told no
words could paint the magnificence. According to these authors the
inclosing wall of the palace was four thousand feet in length from east
to west, and two thousand two hundred feet from north to south. The
greater part of this space was occupied by gardens, with their marble
fountains, kiosks and ornaments of various kinds, not inferior in beauty
to the more strictly architectural parts of the building.

Four thousand three hundred columns of the rarest and most precious
marbles supported the roof of the palace; of these some were brought
from Africa, some from Rome, and many were presented by the Emperor at
Constantinople to Abdur Rahman. The halls were paved with marble,
disposed in a thousand varied patterns. The walls were of the same
material, and ornamented with friezes of the most brilliant colors. The
ceilings, constructed of cedar, were enriched with gilding on an azure
ground, with damasked work and interlacing designs. Everything, in
short, that the wealth and resources of the Caliph could command was
lavished on this favorite retreat, and all that the art of
Constantinople and Bagdad could contribute to aid the taste and
executive skill of the Spanish Arabs was enlisted to make it the most
perfect work of its age. Did this palace of Zahra now remain to us, says
Mr. Fergusson, we could afford to despise the Alhambra and all the other
works of the declining ages of Moorish art.

It was here that Abdur Rahman and Nasir received Sancho the Fat, and
Theuda, queen of Navarre, the envoys from Charles the Simple of France,
and the embassadors from the Emperor Constantine at Constantinople. The
reception of these imperial visitors is said to have been one of the
most magnificent ceremonies of that magnificent court. The orator who
had been at first intrusted with the speech of ceremonial greeting was
actually struck dumb by the grandeur of the scene, and his place was
taken by a less impressionable rhetorician.

Nor was it only material splendor that was to be found at Cordova. At a
time when Christian Europe was steeped in ignorance and barbarism, in
superstition and prejudice, every branch of science was studied under
the favor and protection of the Ommeyad Caliphs. Medicine, surgery,
botany, chemistry, poetry, the arts, philosophy, literature, all
flourished at the court and city of Cordova. Agriculture was cultivated
with a perfection, both theoretical and practical, which is apparent
from the works of contemporary Arab writers. The Silo, so lately
introduced into England as a valuable agricultural novelty, is not only
the invention of the Arabs, but the very name is Arabic, as is that of
the Azequia and of the Noria of modern Spain. Both the second and the
third Abdur Rahman were passionately fond of gardening and
tree-planting; and seeds, roots and cuttings were brought from all parts
of the world and acclimatized in the gardens at Cordova. A pomegranate
of peculiar excellence, the Safari, which was introduced by the second
Abdur Rahman from Damascus, still maintains its superiority, and is
known in Spain to the present day as the Granada Zafari.

Thus, in small things as in great, the Arabs of Cordova stood
immeasurably above every other people or any other government in Europe.
Yet their influence unhappily was but small. They surpassed, but they
did not lead. The very greatness of their superiority rendered their
example fruitless. Medieval chivalry, indeed, was largely the result of
their influence in Spain. But chivalry as an institution had itself
decayed long before a new-born Europe had attained to the material and
moral perfection of the great Emirs of Cordova. Their political
organization was unadapted to the needs or the aspirations of Western
Europe, and contained within itself the elements, not of development,
but of decay. Their civilization perished, and left no heirs behind
it--and its place knows it no more.

The reign of Hakam II., the son and successor of the great Caliph, was
tranquil, prosperous and honorable, the golden age of Arab literature in
Spain. The king was above all things a student, living the life almost
of a recluse in his splendid retreat at Az Zahra, and concerning himself
rather with the collection of books for his celebrated library at
Cordova than with the cares of State and the excitements of war. He sent
agents to every city in the East to buy rare manuscripts and bring them
back to Cordova. When he could not acquire originals he procured copies,
and every book was carefully catalogued and worthily lodged. Hakam not
only built libraries, but, unlike many modern collectors, he is said to
have read and even to have annotated the books that they contained; but
as their number exceeded four hundred thousand, he must have been a
remarkably rapid student.

The peaceful disposition of the new Caliph emboldened his Christian
neighbors and tributaries to disregard the old treaties and to assert
their independence of Cordova. But the armies of Hakam were able to make
his rights respected, and the treaties were reaffirmed and observed.
Many were the embassies that were received at Cordova from rival
Christian chiefs; and Sancho of Leon, Fernan Gonzalez of Castile, Garcia
of Navarre, Rodrigo Velasquez of Galicia, and finally Ordoño the Bad,
Pretender to the crown of Leon, were all represented at the court of Az

The reign of this royal scholar was peaceful and prosperous; but kingly
power tends to decline in libraries, and when Hakam ceased to build and
to annotate, and his kingdom devolved upon his son, the royal authority
passed not into the hands of the young Hisham, who was only nine years
of age at the time of his father’s death, but into those of the Sultana
Sobeyra and of her favorite, Ibn-abu-amir, who is known to later
generations by the proud title of Almanzor.[2]

Ibn-abu-amir began his career as a poor student at the University of
Cordova. Of respectable birth and parentage, filled with noble ambition,
born for empire and command, the youth became a court scribe, and,
attracting the attention of the all-powerful Sobeyra by the charm of his
manner and his nobility of bearing, he soon rose to power and
distinction in the palace; and as Master of the Mint, and afterward as
Commander of the City Guard, he found means to render himself
indispensable, as he had always been agreeable, to the harem. Nor was
the young courtier less acceptable to the Caliph. Intrusted by him on a
critical occasion with the supremely difficult mission of comptrolling
the expenditure of the army in Africa, where the general-in-chief had
proved over-prodigal or over-rapacious, Ibn-abu-amir acquitted himself
with such extraordinary skill and tact that he won the respect and
admiration, not only of the Caliph whose treasury he protected, but of
the general whose extravagance he checked, and even of the common
soldiers of the army, who are not usually drawn to a civilian
superintendent, or to a reforming treasury official from headquarters.
The expenses were curtailed; but the campaign was successful, and the
victorious general and the yet more victorious Cadi shared on equal
terms the honor of a triumphal entry into the capital.

On the death of Hakam, in September, 976, Ibn-abu-amir showed no less
than his usual tact and vigor in suppressing a palace intrigue and
placing the young Hisham on the throne of his father. The Caliph was but
twelve years of age, and his powerful guardian, supported by the harem,
beloved by the people, and feared by the vanquished conspirators, took
upon himself the entire administration of the kingdom, repealed some
obnoxious taxes, reformed the organization of the army, and sought to
confirm and establish his power by a war against his neighbors in the
north. The peace which had so long prevailed between Moor and Christian
was thus rudely broken, and the Moslem once more carried his arms across
the northern frontier. The campaign was eminently successful.
Ibn-abu-amir, who contrived not only to vanquish his enemies but to
please his friends, became at once the master of the palace and of the
army. The inevitable critic was found to say that the victor was a
diplomatist and a lawyer rather than a great general; but he was
certainly a great leader of men, and if he was at any time unskilled in
the conduct of a battle, he owned from the first that higher skill of
knowing whom to trust with command. Nor was he less remarkable for his
true military virtue of constant clemency to the vanquished.

In two years after the death of Hakam, Almanzor had attained the
position of the greatest of the _maires du palais_ of early France, and
he ruled all Muhammadan Spain in the name of young Hisham, whose throne
he forbore to occupy and whose person was safe in his custody. But if
Almanzor was not a dilettante like Abdur Rahman II., nor a collector of
MSS. like Hakam, he was no vulgar fighter like the early kings of Leon
or of Navarre. A library of books accompanied him in all his campaigns;
literature, science, and the arts were munificently patronized at court;
a university or high school was established at Cordova, where the great
mosque was enlarged for the accommodation of an increasing number of
worshipers. Yet in one thing did he show his weakness. He could afford
to have no enemies.

Though the idol of the army, the lover of the queen, the prefect of the
city, the guardian of the person of the Caliph, Almanzor yet found it
necessary to conciliate the theologians; and the theologians were only
conciliated by the delivery of the great library of Hakam into the hands
of the Ulema. The shelves were ransacked for works on astrology and
magic, on natural philosophy, and the forbidden sciences, and after an
inquisition as formal and as thorough and probably no more intelligent
than that which was conducted by the curate and the barber in the house
of Don Quixote, tens of thousands of priceless volumes were publicly
committed to the flames.

Nor did Almanzor neglect the more practical or more direct means of
maintaining his power. The army was

[Illustration: SPAIN & PORTUGAL.]

of any external show of supreme authority in the State. In 991 he
abandoned the office and title of Hajib to his son, Abdul Malik. In 992
his seal took the place of that of the monarch on all documents of
State. In 993 he assumed the royal cognomen of Mowayad. Two years later
he arrogated to himself alone the title of Said; and in 996 he ventured
a step further, and assumed the title of Malik Karim, or king.

But in 996 Almanzor was at length confronted by a rival. Sobeyra, the
Navarrese Sultana, once his mistress, was now his deadly enemy, and she
had determined that the queen, and not the minister, should reign
supreme in the palace. Almanzor was to be destroyed. Hakam, a feeble and
effeminate youth, was easily won over by the harem, who urged him to
show the strength that he was so far from possessing, by espousing the
cause of his mother against his guardian. The queen was assured of
victory. The treasury was at the disposal of the conspirators. A
military rival was secretly summoned from Africa. The minister was
banished from the royal presence. The palace was already jubilant.

But the palace reckoned without Almanzor. Making his way into Hakam’s
chamber, more charming, more persuasive, more resolute than ever,
Almanzor prevailed upon the Caliph not only to restore him to his
confidence, but to empower him, by a solemn instrument under the royal
sign-manual, to assume the government of the kingdom. Sobeyra, defeated
but unharmed by her victorious and generous rival, retired to a
cloister; and Almanzor, contemptuously leaving to one of his lieutenants
the task of vanquishing his subsidized rival in Africa, set forth upon
the most memorable of all his many expeditions against Christian Spain
(July 3, 997).

Making his way, at the head of an army, through Lusitania into far away
Galicia, he took Corunna, and destroyed the great Christian church and
city of Santiago de Compostella, the most sacred spot in all Spain, and
sent the famous bells which had called so many Christian pilgrims to
prayer and praise to be converted into lamps to illuminate the Moslem
worshipers in the mosque at Cordova.

Five years later, in 1002, after an uncertain battle, Almanzor died in
harness, if not actually in the ranks, bowed down by mortal disease,
unhurt by the arm of the enemy. The relief of the Christians at his
death was unspeakable; and is well expressed, says Mr. Poole, in the
simple comment of the Monkish annalist, “In 1002 died Almanzor, and was
buried in Hell.”

In force of character, in power of persuasion, in tact, in vigor, in
that capacity for command that is only found in noble natures, Almanzor
has no rival among the Regents of Spain. His rise is a romance; his
power a marvel; his justice a proverb. He was a brilliant financier; a
successful favorite; a liberal patron; a stern disciplinarian; a
heaven-born courtier; an accomplished general; and no one of the great
commanders of Spain, not Gonsalvo de Aguilar himself, was more uniformly
successful in the field than this lawyer’s clerk of Cordova.

Hisham, in confinement at Az Zahra, was still the titular Caliph of the
West, but Almanzor was succeeded as commander-in-chief and virtual ruler
of the country by his favorite son, his companion-in-arms, and the hero
of an African campaign, Abdul Malik Almudaffar, the Hajib of 991. But
the glory of Cordova had departed. Abdul Malik indeed ruled in his
father’s place for six years. But on his death, in 1008, he was
succeeded by his half-brother, Abdur Rahman, who, as the son of a
Christian princess, was mistrusted both by the palace and by the people;
and the country became a prey to anarchy.

Cordova was sacked. The Caliph was imprisoned; rebellions, poisonings,
crucifixions, civil war, bigotry and skepticism, the insolence of
wealth, the insolence of power, a Mahdi and a Wahdi, Christian alliance,
Berber domination, Slav mutineers, African interference, puppet princes,
all these things vexed the Spanish Moslems for thirty disastrous years;
while a number of weak but independent sovereignties arose on the ruins
of the great Caliphate of the West.

The confused annals of the last thirty years of the rule of the
Ommeyades are mere records of blood and of shame, a pitiful story of
departed greatness.

On the death of Hisham II., the Romulus Augustulus of Imperial Cordova,
Moslem Spain was divided into a number of petty kingdoms, Malaga,
Algeciras, Cordova, Seville, Toledo, Badajoz, Saragossa, the Balearic
Islands, Valencia, Murcia, Almeria, and Granada. And each of these
cities and kingdoms made unceasing war one upon another.

From the death of Hisham, if not from the death of Almanzor, the centre
of interest in the history of Spain is shifted from Cordova to Castile.




The Crescent had conquered, but the Cross endured. The refuge of the
latter was in the Asturias, There--eight or ten years after the death of
the last of the Gothic kings--Pelayo, one of the early heroes of Spanish
history, was reigning over refugees from Moslem rule. It was these
refugees who laid the foundation of modern Spain, and it is related that
in their fastness at Covadonga, thirty of them, with Pelayo at their
head, actually routed, if they did not destroy, an entire army of four
hundred thousand Moslem besiegers.

The story is of course mythological, but the good fortune of Pelayo did
much to kindle the national spirit by which ultimately Spain was
conquered for the Spaniards, and thus the story, if critically false,
becomes metaphorically true.

       *       *       *       *       *

Nor [says Burke] do the Arabs seem to have made any attempt to retrieve
or avenge the fortunes of the day. Well satisfied, no doubt, with their
unopposed dominion over the rich plains of the genial south country,
they were willing to abandon the bleak and inhospitable mountains to
their wild inhabitants and the emboldened refugees whom they sheltered.
Be the reason what it may, Pelayo seems to have had peace all the days
of his life after his victory at Covadonga in 718. Prudently confining
his attention to the development of his little kingdom, he reigned, it
is said, for nineteen years at Cangas, and, dying in 737, was peacefully
succeeded by his son Favila.

Pelayo, no doubt, was but a robber chieftain, a petty mountain prince,
and the legends of his royal descent are of later date, and of obviously
spurious manufacture; but Pelayo needs no tinsel to adorn his crown. He
was the founder of the Spanish monarchy.

Meanwhile, in the recesses of the Pyrenees, a second Christian kingdom,
that of Navarre, had been founded by Garcias Iniguez, which, together
with Catalonia and Aragon, Charlemagne a little later (778) entered and
subdued. In repassing the Pyrenees, however, the Navarrese, led by
Fortun Garcias, fell upon the Frankish troops and cut to pieces the
rearguard, and even, it is said, the main body of the army.

How far the Spanish Christians were aided, as it has been stated they
were, by the Moors, it is impossible to discover. The fact of such an
alliance, in itself sufficiently improbable, is quite unnecessary to
explain the ever-famous defeat at Roncesvalles.

Nor can we speak with much greater confidence of the prowess or even of
the existence of the equally famous Roland, in the ranks of the invading
or evading army; or of that of the no less celebrated Bernardo del
Carpio in the ranks of the pursuers.

Taillefer, who sang the song of Roland upon the battlefield of Hastings,
and Terouldes, whose thirteenth century epic suggested the poems of
Pulci, of Boiardo, and of greatest Ariosto, all these have made Roland
one of the favorite heroes of the Middle Ages. But in the story, as it
is told in the Spanish ballads, it is Bernardo del Carpio, the nephew of
the chaste but pusillanimous Alfonso, who is the true hero of
Roncesvalles, and who not only repulsed the host of Charlemagne, but
caught up the invulnerable Roland in his arms, and squeezed him to death
before his army. No carpet knight or courtier was Bernardo, but a true
Cantabrian mountaineer.

In 790 Alfonso II., the great-grandson of the great Pelayo, then king of
Oviedo, repulsed the Mussulman army with great slaughter, and abolished
the ignominious tribute of one hundred virgins, an annual tribute paid
to the Muhammadan ruler, fifty virgins being of noble and fifty of base
or ignoble birth. From this circumstance is derived, by some historians,
his surname of the Chaste; attributed by others to his having made a
solemn vow of virginity, and observed it, even in marriage. This vow,
and the austere temper in which it probably originated, had considerable
influence over Alfonso’s life. He so deeply resented his sister Ximena’s
private marriage with a subject, the Count of Saldanha, that he shut her
up in a convent; and putting out her husband’s eyes, sentenced him to
perpetual imprisonment.

The royal line of Navarre or Sobrarve was at this time extinct, Ximenes
Garcias, the grandson of Fortun Garcias, having died without children.
The nobles availed themselves of the opportunity to establish the famous
code entitled “Los Fueros de Sobrarve”--the laws of Sobrarve--which
subsequently became the groundwork of the liberties of Aragon. Navarre
was soon afterward recovered by the Moors, and Sobrarve included in the
Spanish March.

Alfonso ruled upward of fifty years. Incessant wars now followed between
the followers of the Cross and the Crescent, and a frenzy for martyrdom
on the part of the Christians had to be repressed by a Christian
archbishop at the solemn request of the Cadis.

Garcia of Oviedo died without children shortly after his accession; when
his brother Ordoño II. reunited the whole of his father’s dominions. He
transferred the seat of government to Leon, and altered the title of
King of Oviedo into that of King of Leon.

This Ordoño abandoned the peaceful policy of his greater father, and
undertook many expeditions with varying and uncertain success against
the Arabs. He plundered Merida in 917, and routed the Berbers in
Southern Spain in 918. Yet three years later, at Val de Junqueras (921),
near Pamplona, the Christians suffered disastrous defeat. The usual
rebellion at home was appeased by the treacherous execution or murder of
no less than four counts of Castile in 922, and was followed by the
king’s death in 923.

Of Fruela II. (923-925), Alfonso IV. (925-930), and Ramiro II.
(930-950), little need be said, but that they lived and reigned as kings
of Leon.

To Ramiro, however, is due, at least, the honor of an authentic victory
over the Moslem forces of the great Caliph, Abdur Rahman an Nasir (939),
at Simancas, and afterward in the same year at Alhandega.

Ramiro, after the usual rebellion, abdicated, in 950, in favor of his
son Ordoño--who had married Urraca, daughter of the principal rebel of
the day, Fernan Gonzalez, count of Castile--and who succeeded his father
as Ordoño III.

But decapitation was a far more certain way of suppressing rebellion
than matrimony; and Fernan Gonzalez lived to intrigue against his
daughter and her royal husband in favor of Sancho, a younger brother of
the king. Ordoño, however, held his own against his brother, and
revenged himself on his father-in-law, by repudiating his wife; who,
with her personal and family grievances, was promptly _acquired_ by
Sancho, who succeeded, on his brother’s death, to the crown of which he
had failed to possess himself by force. But even as a legitimate
sovereign, Sancho, surnamed the Fat, was not allowed to reign in peace.
He was driven from his kingdom by that most versatile rebel, Count
Fernan Gonzalez, and sought refuge at the court of his uncle Garcia of
Navarre at Pamplona. Thence, in company with Garcia, and his mother
Theuda, he journeyed to the court of the Caliph at Cordova, where the
distinguished visitors were received with great show of welcome by Abdur
Rahman at Az Zahra; and where Hasdai, the Jew, the most celebrated
physician of the day, succeeded in completely curing Sancho of the
distressing malady--a morbid and painful corpulency--which incapacitated
him from the active discharge of his royal duties.

The study and practice of medicine were alike disregarded by the rude
dwellers in Leon; but the Cordovan doctor, surpassing in his success, if
not in his skill, the most celebrated physicians of the present day,
contrived to reduce the king’s overgrown bulk to normal proportions,
and restored him to his former activity and vigor, both of body and
mind. Nor was the skill of Hasdai confined to the practice of medicine.
An accomplished diplomatist, he negotiated a treaty with his Christian
patient, by which Sancho bound himself to give up ten frontier
fortresses to the Caliph, on his restoration to the crown of Leon, while
Don Garcia and Dona Theuda undertook to invade Castile in order to
divert the attention of the common foe, the ever-ready Fernan Gonzalez.

In due time Sancho, no longer the fat, but the hale, returned to Leon at
the head of a Moslem army, placed at his disposal by his noble host at
Cordova, drove out the usurper, Ordoño the Bad, and reigned in peace in
his Christian dominions. The visit of this dispossessed Ordoño to the
court of the Caliph Hakam at Cordova, in 962, is an interesting specimen
of the international politics or policy of his age and country.

As Sancho had recovered his throne, by the aid of Abdur Rahman, so
Ordoño sought to dethrone him and make good his own pretensions by the
aid of Hakam. The Caliph, already harassed by Fernan Gonzalez, and
doubting the honesty of King Sancho, was not ill-pleased to have another
pretender in hand, and Ordoño was invited to Cordova, and received by
Hakam in the palace at Az Zahra with the utmost pomp and display. The
Leonese prince craved in humble language the assistance of the Moslem,
and professed himself his devoted friend, ally, and vassal; and he was
permitted to remain at the Court of Hakam, to await the issue of events
in the north. Some few days afterward a treaty was solemnly signed
between the Caliph and the Pretender, and once more the glories of Az
Zahra were displayed to the eyes of the astonished barbarian from Leon.

Nor did the fame of these splendid ceremonies fail to reach Sancho in
the northwest; and his spirit of independence was considerably cooled by
the prospect of a Moslem army, headed by his cousin Ordoño, making its
appearance before his ill-defended frontiers. The maneuver was
sufficiently familiar; and the reigning monarch lost no time in
disassociating himself from the hostile proceedings of Fernan Gonzalez;
and sending an important embassy to Hakam at Cordova, to assure him of
his unwavering loyalty, he hastened to announce his readiness to carry
out to the letter all the provisions of his recent treaty with the
Caliph. Hakam was satisfied. Ordoño languished disregarded at Cordova,
despised alike by Moslem and Christian, but unharmed and in safety as
the guest of the Arab. Sancho reigned in peace until 967, when he was
poisoned by the rebel count of the day, Sanchez of Galicia. His son, who
was known as Ramiro III., an unwise and incapable monarch, reigned at
Leon from 967 to 982, without extending the possessions or the influence
of the Christians in Spain; and Bermudo II., who usurped the throne, was
no match for the fiery Almanzor, who ravaged his kingdom, took
possession of his capital, and compelled the Christian Court to take
refuge in the wild mountains of the Asturias, and once more to pay
tribute to the Moslem at Cordova.

Bermudo died in 999; and on the death of Almanzor, three years later,
the Christian fortunes under the young Alfonso V., who had succeeded his
father Bermudo, at the age of only five, began to mend. Cordova was
given up to anarchy. The Moslem troops retired from Northern Spain.
Leon became once more the abode of the king and his court, and though
Alfonso gave his sister in marriage to Mohammed, an Emir or Vali of
Toledo, he extended his Christian dominion in more than one foray
against the declining power of the Moslem.

Alfonso V., who is known in Spanish history as the Restorer of Leon,
sought to consolidate his own power, as he certainly exalted that of his
clergy, by the summoning of a Council, after the manner of the
Visigothic Councils of Toledo. The Council met at the city of Leon on
the 1st of August, 1020, in the Cathedral Church of St. Mary. The king
and his queen Elvira presided, and all the bishops and the principal
abbots and nobles of the kingdom took their seats in the assembly. And
if there was no Leander, nor Isidore, nor Julian to impose his will upon
king or council, the interests of the Church were not entirely
overlooked. Of the fifty-eight decrees and canons of this Council, the
first seventeen relate exclusively to matters ecclesiastical, the next
twenty are laws for the government of the kingdom, the remaining
thirty-one are municipal ordinances for the city of Leon.

But Alfonso V. was not exempted from the usual rebellions, and
marriages, and assassinations, and executions, which constituted the
politics of the day. Garcia, the last Count of Castile, was
treacherously slain in 1026; and Alfonso was himself more honorably
killed in an attack upon a Moslem town in Lusitania in 1027.

The life of Fernan Gonzalez, the Warwick of medieval Spain, is almost as
much overlaid with romantic legends as that of Roderic or Roland. The
lives and deeds of his ancestors, and the origin of his ever-celebrated
County of Castile, are involved in the utmost confusion and obscurity;
but Fernan Gonzalez himself is at least a historical personage. He
married Sancha, daughter of Sancho Abarca of Navarre, and their son,
Garcia Fernandez, succeeded him as hereditary Count of Castile.

As early as the year 905, Sancho, a Christian chief of whose ancestors
and predecessors much has been written, much surmised, and nothing is
certainly known, was king or ruler of the little border state of
Navarre. A prudent as well as a warlike sovereign, he fortified his
capital city of Pamplona, and when his son, in alliance with Ordoño II.
of Leon, was defeated by the Moslems at Val de Junquera, the Navarrese
not only made good their retreat to that celebrated fortress, but
succeeded in course of a short time in driving the Moslems out of their
country. The grandson of this successful general was Sancho El Mayor--or
the Great--the most powerful of the Christian princes in Spain
(970-1035). Besides Navarre and Sobrarve he held the lordship of Aragon;
in 1026, in right of his wife, Muña Elvira, he became king or count of
Castile; while his successful interference in the affairs of Leon made
him virtual master of all Christian Spain outside the limits of the
quasi Frankish county of Catalonia.

Sancho the Great died in 1035, when his territories were divided,
according to his will, among his four sons; and from this time forth the
history of Navarre, so far as it is not included in the history of
Aragon, of Castile, and of France, is a confused and dreary record of
family quarrels, of plots and assassinations, of uncertain alliances, of
broken treaties. The marriage of the Princess Berengaria with Richard I.
of England, in 1191, failed to secure for Sancho V. the influence that
he had hoped to secure: and with Sancho VI., who died in 1234, the male
line of the house of Sancho Iniguez or Inigo, the founder of Navarre,
was extinct. A French prince was chosen by the Navarrese to rule over
them. And from the death of Sancho VI., in 1234, to the death of Charles
the Bad, in 1387--one hundred and fifty years--the history of Navarre is
that of France.

Bermudo III., who succeeded, on the death of his father, Alfonso V., in
1027, as king of Leon, was at once attacked by his powerful neighbors,
and the little States were distracted by family quarrels and civil war
until the death of Bermudo in battle, in 1037, when the male line of the
house of Leon became extinct.

On the death of Bermudo III. in 1037, Ferdinand I., king of Castile, the
second son of Sancho the Great, succeeded to the kingdom of Leon, and
became, after over twenty years of civil war (1058), the most powerful
monarch in all Spain. The Moslems offered but an uncertain and
half-hearted resistance to his arms. For while the Christians were
growing strong, the Moslem empire was already declining to its fall. And
the decay of the Caliphate of Cordova, and the internal dissensions of
the Arabs, enabled Ferdinand not only to recover all the territory that
had been conquered by Almanzor, but to pursue the disheartened Moslem as
far as Valencia, Toledo, and Coimbra. Ferdinand confirmed the Fueros of
Alfonso V., and summoned a council at Coyanza (Valencia de Don Juan),
over which, with his Queen Sancha, he presided in 1050. All the bishops
and abbots, together with a certain number of lay nobles thus assembled
_ad restaurationem nostræ Christianitatis_, proceeded to make decrees or
canons, after the manner of the Councils of Toledo, of which the first
seven were devoted to matters ecclesiastical, and the remainder
connected with the civil government of the country. With territories
thus recovered and augmented, with cities restored and fortified,
Ferdinand determined to excel all his Christian predecessors, and to
emulate the noble example of the Arab, by enriching his dominion, not
with treasures of art or literature, with schools, with palaces, with
manuscripts--but with the bones of as many martyrs as he could collect.

An army was raised for this sacred purpose, and the country of the Moors
was once more invaded and harried by the Christian arms. Ibn Obeid of
Seville, learning the objects of the invasion, offered Ferdinand every
facility for research in his city; and a solemn commission of bishops
and nobles were admitted within the walls to seek the body of Justus,
one of the martyrs of Diocletian. But in spite of all the diligence of
the Christians, and all the goodwill of the Arabs, the sacred remains
could nowhere be found. At length the spirit of Saint Isidore removed
the difficulty by appearing miraculously before the Commission, and
offering his own bones in the place of those of Justus, which were
destined, said he, to remain untouched at Seville. The Commission was
satisfied. And the body of the great Metropolitan, “fragrant with
balsamic odors,” was immediately removed to the Church of St. John the
Baptist at Leon--to the great satisfaction of both Christians and Moors,
in 1063.

It was on the occasion of the return of these blessed relics to the
Christian capital that Ferdinand proclaimed the future division of his
kingdom. For after all the success that had attended the Union of the
dominions of Leon and Castile under the sole authority of Ferdinand, who
rather perhaps for his sanctity than for his wisdom had earned the title
of the Great, the king made the same grievous mistake that his father
had done before him, in dividing his united territories at his death
(1065) among his sons and daughters. To Sancho, the eldest son, he left
the kingdom of Castile; to Alfonso, Leon and the Asturias; to Garcia,
Galicia; to his younger daughter, Elvira, the town and district of Toro,
and to her elder sister Urraca the famous border city of Zamora, the
most debatable land in all Spain, and a strange heritage for a young
lady. Thus Castile and Leon were once more separated; and the usual
civil wars and family intrigues naturally followed. Alfonso, though not
at first the most successful, survived all his rivals, and was at length
proclaimed king of Leon and Castile.

But the successes and glories of Alfonso VI., such as they were, are
overshadowed by the prowess of a Castilian hero, whose exploits form one
of the most favorite chapters in the national history of Spain--the
Christian knight with the Moslem title--Ruy Diaz, THE CID.

Two years before William of Normandy landed at Hastings, a Castilian
knight, a youth who had already won for himself the proud title of The
Challenger, from his reckless bravery and his success in single combat,
is found leading the royal armies of Sancho of Castile against the
enemy. The knight was Ruy Diaz de Bivar. The enemy was Alfonso VI. of
Leon, the brother of Sancho, who was endeavoring to reunite the
inheritance divided by his father, in the good old medieval fashion in

Of noble birth and parentage, a Castilian of the Castilians, Roderic or
Ruy Diaz was born at Bivar, near Burgos, about the year 1040. His
position in the army of Sancho was that of Alferez, in title the
Standard-bearer, in effect the major-general or second in command, if
not commander-in-chief of the king’s army.

For seven years Alfonso of Leon and Sancho of Castile had been at war,
each seeking to destroy the other; and at length at Golpejara, near
Carrion, on the eve of what promised to be a decisive battle, a solemn
engagement was entered into by the brothers that whichever of the two
was worsted in the encounter should resign his kingdom to the other
without further bloodshed. The Castilians, in spite of Sancho and his
famous Champion, were defeated at Golpejara; and Alfonso of Leon,
foolishly trusting his brother’s word, took no heed to improve his
victory, and his unsuspecting army was overwhelmed the next day by the
Castilian troops under Ruy Diaz de Bivar, the author of this exceedingly
characteristic, if not entirely authentic piece of treachery.

It is scarcely surprising that the Cid was not trusted by Alfonso of
Leon, when he, in his turn, succeeded to the crown of Castile. But for
the moment Alfonso was not only deprived of his throne and of his
liberty by his more successful brother, but he was compelled to
purchase his life by a promise to enter the monastery of Sahagun.
Disregarding this vow, and making good his escape to Toledo, the royal
refugee was received with the usual hospitality of the Arab by El Mamun,
the Moslem ruler of the city, who sheltered and entertained him, as he
himself admitted, “like a son.”

Sancho meanwhile had turned his arms against his brother Garcia, whom he
dispossessed of his territories; against his sister Elvira, who met with
a similar fate, and, lastly, against his sister Urraca, who withstood
him boldly in her city of Zamora. And not only did this time-honored
fortress resist the attack of Sancho and his wily major-general, but the
king was slain outside the walls of the city by one of his sister’s
knights. Alfonso thus not only recovered his own kingdom of Leon, but,
swearing perpetual friendship with El Mamun of Toledo, he was elected
king of Castile by the Commons assembled at Burgos; and the defeated
refugee of 1071 found himself, in less than two years, the greatest
prince in Christian Spain; Alfonso the Sixth of Leon and of Castile.

Yet the legend runs that Alfonso was compelled to undergo the indignity
of a public examination, and a triple oath before the knights and nobles
assembled at Burgos, to the effect that he had had no share in the
murder of King Sancho; and the oath was administered by Ruy Diaz of
Bivar, the companion in arms of the Castilian king, sometime the
faithless enemy of Carrion, but now the acknowledged leader of the
Castilian nobility.

Alfonso of Leon may have forgiven the treachery in the field, but he
never forgot the insult in the Council. He restrained his indignation,
however, and was even induced by reasons of State to grant to the bold
Castilian lord the hand of his cousin Ximena in marriage, and to intrust
him with the command of an expedition into Andalusia. But the royal
favor was of brief duration; and in 1081 we find that Roderic, partly
owing to the intrigues of Garcia Ordonez, and partly to the enduring
enmity of the king, was banished from the Christian dominions.

Of all the petty sovereignties that came into existence on the breaking
up of the Ommeyad Caliphate of Cordova, that of Moctadir, the chief of
the Ben-i-hud of Saragossa, was the most powerful in Northern or Central
Spain; and at the Moslem court of Saragossa, Ruy Diaz, with his fame and
his followers, was warmly welcomed (1081) by Moctadir as a Said or
Cid--a lord or leader of the Arabs. He had been driven out of Castile by
Alfonso. He found a home and honorable command at Saragossa. So long as
he could make war upon his neighbors, all countries were alike to
Roderic of Bivar. Nor was it long before his prowess brought honor and
profit to Moctadir, or, rather, to his son and successor, Motamin.

Ramon Berenguer III., count of Barcelona, was engaged, like other
Christian princes of his time, in chronic warfare with his Moslem
neighbors; and Motamin, with his Castilian Cid, marching against the
Catalans, defeated the Christians with great slaughter at Almenara, near
Lerida, and brought Ramon Berenguer a prisoner to Saragossa (1081),
where the victorious Cid was loaded with presents by the grateful
Motamin, and invested with an authority in the kingdom subordinate only
to that of the king himself. Two years later (1083) an expedition was
undertaken by the Moslems, under Roderic, against their Christian
neighbors in Aragon. King Sancho Ramirez was completely defeated by the
Castilian champion, who returned once more to Saragossa loaded with
booty and renown. In 1084 the Cid seems to have paid a friendly visit to
the court of Alfonso VI. But although he was apparently well received,
he suspected treachery, and, returning to the court of the Moslem, once
more took service under the delighted Motamin. His next campaign,
undertaken in the following year, was not against any Christian power,
but against the hostile Moslems of northern Valencia, and was crowned
with the usual success. Motamin died in 1085, but the Cid remained in
the service of his son and successor, Mostain, fighting against
Christian and Moslem as occasion offered, partly for the King of
Saragossa, but chiefly for the personal advantage of Ruy Diaz of Bivar.
A stranger national hero it is hard to imagine! Nor were his subsequent
proceedings in any degree less strange.

Al Mamun, the host and protector of Alfonso VI., had died in 1075,
leaving, his grandson, Cadir, to succeed him as sovereign of Toledo.
Abdulaziz, the viceroy of the subject city of Valencia, took advantage
of the weakness of the young prince to declare himself independent, and
placing himself under the protection of the Christians, undertook to pay
a large subsidy to Alfonso VI. in return for his recognition and
support. The subsidy was punctually paid, and, in spite of a present of
no less than a hundred thousand pieces of gold handed over by Moctadir
of Saragossa to Alfonso as the price of Valencia, Abdulaziz retained his
hold of the city until his death in 1085. On this, numerous pretenders
to the government immediately arose, including Moctadir of Saragossa, a
purchaser for value, and the two sons of Abdulaziz; while Alfonso took
advantage of the confusion that ensued to persuade Cadir to surrender
Toledo, much coveted by the Christian king, and to accept, or, more
exactly, to retain, for himself the sovereignty of Valencia, under the
humiliating protection of Castile. Alfonso cared nothing that Toledo was
the inheritance of his youthful ally, the home of his old protector,
when he himself was a hunted refugee. He cared nothing that the
Valencians were hostile to Cadir, and that powerful neighbors were
prepared to dispute his possession. He cared nothing that Moctadir, who
had actually purchased the city from Alfonso himself, was on the way to
make good his claim. A treaty was forced upon Cadir by which Toledo was
surrendered to Alfonso VI. (1085), and the Christian king was bound to
place and maintain the unhappy prince in possession of his own
subordinate city of Valencia.

Toledo thus became the capital of Christian Spain; and the evicted
sovereign, escorted by a large force of Castilian troops under Alvar
Fanez, made his sad and solemn entry into Valencia, despised at once by
the citizens of Toledo, whom he had abandoned to the Christian
sovereign, and by the citizens of Valencia, where his power was
maintained by Christian lances. And costly indeed was this Christian
maintenance. Six hundred pieces of gold is said to have been the daily
allowance of the army of Castilian mercenaries; and the taxes that were
necessitated by their presence only added to the unpopularity of the
government. Many of Cadir’s Moslem subjects fled from the city; and
their place was taken by his Christian supporters or pensioners, whose
rapacity was, if possible, exceeded by their cruelty. But the coming of
the Almoravides gave a new turn to the fortunes of the city. Alvar Fanez
and his knights were recalled by Alfonso, and after the defeat of the
Christians at Zalaca, in October, 1086, Cadir found himself threatened
with immediate expulsion by his own citizens, supported by Mondhir of
Lerida, the uncle of Mostain of Saragossa. In this difficulty he once
more sought the protection of Christian lances, and applied for aid to
the Cid, who immediately advanced on Valencia.

An intriguer, at all times and places, Roderic promised his support to
Cadir in return for admission within the walls. He entered into a formal
treaty with Mostain that the city should be his, if all the booty were
handed over to the Campeador; and he sent envoys to Alfonso to assure
him that in all these forays and alliances he thought only of the
advantage of Christendom and the honor of Castile. Mondhir, overawed by
the appearance of the allied army from Saragossa, hastily retired from
before Valencia, where Mostain and his Christian Said were welcomed as
deliverers by Cadir.

But although the Cid imposed a tribute upon the unhappy Valencians, he
failed to give over the city to Mostain, and assuring Cadir of his
constant support, as long as a monthly allowance of ten thousand golden
dinars was punctually paid, he withdrew himself from the remonstrances
of the disappointed Mostain--to whom he continued to protest his
continued devotion--on the plea of a necessary visit to his Christian
sovereign in Castile, to explain or excuse his position, and to engage
some Castilian troops for his army. Mostain, during his absence,
perceiving that he could not count upon so versatile and so ambitious a
Said in the matter of the handing over of Valencia, entered into an
alliance with his old enemy, Ramon Berenguer, of Barcelona; and the
Catalans had actually laid siege to the city when the return of the Cid
induced them to abandon their trenches and retire to Barcelona.

If the Cid was a hero of romance, he did not wield his sword without the
most magnificent remuneration. At this period of his career (1089-92),
in addition to the eighty thousand golden pieces received from Ramon
Berenguer, he is said to have drawn fifty thousand from the son of
Mondhir, one hundred and twenty thousand from Cadir of Valencia, ten
thousand from Albarracin, ten thousand from Alpuente, six thousand from
Murviedro, six thousand from Segorbe, four thousand from Jerica, and
three thousand from Almenara.

With such an amount of personal tribute, the Cid cannot, says Lafuente,
have been greatly inconvenienced by the action of Alfonso VI. in
despoiling him of his estates. Supporting his army of seven thousand
chosen followers on the rich booty acquired in his daily forays upon
Eastern Spain, from Saragossa to Alicante; regardless of Christian
rights, but the special scourge of the Moslems; no longer a Saragossan
general, but a private adventurer, the Cid could afford to quarrel at
once with Mostain and with Alfonso, and to defy the combined forces of
Mondhir and Ramon Berenguer.

The rivalry between the Cid and the Catalan was ever fierce in Eastern
Spain. The opposing armies met at Tebar del Pinar in 1090, and although
the Cid was wounded in the battle, his army was completely successful.
Mondhir fled from the field; and Ramon Berenguer was once more a
prisoner in the hands of Roderic. Nor was the Christian count released
from a confinement more harsh than was generous or necessary until he
had given good security for the payment of the enormous ransom of eighty
thousand marks of gold.

It is not easy, nor would it be fruitful, to follow the various
movements of the Cid at this period of his career. His quarrels and his
intrigues with Alfonso of Castile, with Cadir of Valencia, with the
various parties at the court of Saragossa, with Ramon Berenguer at
Barcelona, and even with the Genoese and Pisans, are neither easy nor
interesting to follow. But his principal objective was the rich city of
Valencia. Alfonso of Leon, ever jealous of his great and most
independent subject, resolved to thwart him in his design; and having
secured the co-operation of the Pisans and Genoese, who had arrived with
a fleet of four hundred vessels to assist the Cid, the king took
advantage of the absence of his rival on some foray to the north of
Saragossa to advance upon Valencia, and to push forward his operations
to the very walls of the city. Ruy Diaz riposted after his fashion.

Leaving the Valencians to make good the defense of their own city, he
carried fire and sword into Alfonso’s peaceful dominions of Najera and
Calahorra, destroying all the towns, burning all the crops, slaughtering
the Christian inhabitants; and razing the important city of Logrono to
the ground. This savagery was completely successful, and met with no
reproach. The Cid is one of those fortunate heroes to whom all things
are permitted. His excesses are forgotten; his independence admired; his
boldness and his success are alone remembered. Alfonso, thus rudely
summoned to the north of the Peninsula, abruptly raised the siege of

Nor was the king’s action at Valencia without a favorable influence upon
the fortunes of the Cid. Far from wresting the city from the grasp of
Roderic, Alfonso had rather precipitated the crisis which was ultimately
to lead to his triumphal entry as the independent ruler of the city.
Cadir was murdered by a hostile faction within the walls; and the Cid,
advancing with his usual prudence, spent some time in possessing himself
of the suburbs and the approaches to the city, before the siege was
commenced in good earnest, in July, 1093.

The operations were carried on in the most ferocious fashion by the
attacking force. Roderic burned his prisoners alive from day to day
within the sight of the walls, or caused them to be torn in pieces by
his dogs under the very eyes of their fellow-townsmen.

The blockaded city was soon a prey to the utmost horrors of famine.
Negotiation was fruitless. Succor came not. Neither Christian nor
Moslem, neither Alfonso the Castilian, nor Yusuf the Almoravide, nor
Mostain of Saragossa, appearing to defend or to relieve the city,
Valencia capitulated on the 15th of June, 1094.

The Moslem commander, Ibn Jahaf, was burned alive. The Moslem
inhabitants were treated with scant consideration, and the Cid, as might
have been supposed, proclaimed himself sovereign of Valencia,
independent of either Christian Alfonso or Moorish Mostain; and at
Valencia he lived and reigned until the day of his death, but five
years afterward, in 1099. His rule was often threatened by the
Almoravides; but as long as the champion lived they could effect no
entry within the walls of his city.

For full three years after his death, moreover, his widow Ximena, and
his cousin Alvar Fanez, maintained a precarious sovereignty at Valencia.
At length, unsupported by Alfonso of Leon, and unable to stand alone in
the midst of the Moslems, they retired to Burgos, carrying with them the
body of the Cid embalmed in precious spices, borne, as of old, on his
faithful steed Babieca, to its last resting place in Castile. Valencia
was immediately occupied by the Almoravides, and became once more a
Moslem stronghold; nor did it finally pass into Christian hands until it
was taken by James the First of Aragon in 1238. The Cid was buried in
the Monastery of Cardena, near Burgos; and the body of his heroic wife,
Dona Ximena, who died in 1104, was laid by his side in the tomb.

The legend of the marriage of the Cid’s daughters with the Infantes of
Carrion, of their desertion, and of the vengeance of the Cid upon their
unworthy husbands, is undoubtedly an invention of the Castilian

The legend of the death of the Cid’s son at the battle of Consuegra is
certainly fallacious. There is no evidence that a son was ever born to
him at all. But he had undoubtedly two daughters, one of whom,
Christina, married Ramiro, Infante of Navarre, and the other, Maria,
became the countess of Ramon Berenguer III. of Barcelona. The issue of
Ramon Berenguer III. was a daughter who died childless, but a
granddaughter of Ramiro of Navarre married Sancho III. of Castile,
whose son, Alfonso VIII., was the grandfather both of St. Ferdinand and
of St. Louis. And thus in a double stream, through the royal houses of
Spain and of France, the blood of the Cid is found to flow in the veins
of his Majesty Alfonso XIII., the reigning king of Spain.

To understand or appreciate the position that is occupied by the Cid in
Spanish history is at the present day supremely difficult. A medieval
condottiere in the service of the Moslem, when he was not fighting to
fill his own coffers with perfect impartiality against Moor or
Christian: banished as a traitor by his Castilian sovereign, and
constantly leading the forces of the Infidel against Aragon, against
Catalonia, and even against Castile, he has become the national hero of
Spain. Warring against the Moslem of Valencia, whom he pitilessly
despoiled, with the aid of the Moslem of Saragossa, whose cause he
cynically betrayed, while he yet owned a nominal allegiance to Alfonso
of Castile, whose territories he was pitilessly ravaging; retaining
conquered Valencia for his personal and private advantage, in despite of
Moslem or Christian kings, he has become the type of Christian loyalty
and Christian chivalry in Europe. Avaricious, faithless, cruel and bold,
a true soldier of fortune, the Cid still maintains a reputation which is
one of the enigmas of history.

The three favorites of medieval Spanish romance, says Senor Lafuente,
Bernardo del Carpio, Fernan Gonzalez, and the Cid, have this at least in
common, that they were all at war with their lawful sovereigns, and
fought their battles independently of the crown. Hence their popularity
in Spain. The Castilians of the Middle Ages were so devoted to their
independence, so proud of their Fueros, such admirers of personal
prowess, that they were disposed to welcome with national admiration
those heroes who sprang from the people, who defied and were ill-treated
by their kings.

The theory is both ingenious and just, yet it by no means solves the
difficulty. Ruy Diaz of Bivar, who was one of the proudest nobles of
Castile, can scarcely be said to have sprung from the people, nor do we
clearly perceive why his long service under Moslem kings, even though he
was a rebel against his own sovereign, should have endeared him to the
Christian Spaniards, however independent or however democratic. Yet we
may learn at least from the character of the hero, ideal though it be,
that the medieval Castilians were no bigots, and that they were slaves
neither to their kings nor to their clergy.

The people of Aragon no doubt held their king in a more distinctly
constitutional subjection. No Castilian chief-justice was found to call
the sovereign to order: no Privilege of Union legalized a popular war in
defense of popular liberties. But Roderic took the place of the
justiciary in legend, if not in history, when he administered the oath
to Alfonso at Burgos; and he invested himself with the privilege of
warring against an aggressive king, when he routed Alfonso’s forces, and
burned his cities, to requite him for his attack upon Valencia.

It is this rebellious boldness which contributed no doubt very largely
to endear the Cid to his contemporaries. It is one of the most constant
characteristics of his career; one of the features that is portrayed
with equal clearness by the chroniclers and the ballad-makers of Spain.
For the Cid is essentially a popular hero. His legendary presentment is
a kind of poetic protest against arbitrary regal power. The Cid ballads
are a pæan of triumphant democracy. The ideal Cid no doubt was evolved
in the course of the twelfth century; and by the end of the fifteenth
century, when the rule of kings and priests had become harder and
heavier in Spain, an enslaved people looked back with an envious
national pride to the Castilian hero who personified the freedom of
bygone days.

The Cid is the only knight-errant that has survived the polished satire
of Cervantes. For his fame was neither literary nor aristocratic; but,
like the early Spanish proverbs, in which it is said he took so great a
delight, it was embedded deep in the hearts of the people.[3] And
although the memory of his religious indifference may not have added to
his popularity in the sixteenth century in Spain, it is a part of his
character which must be taken into account in gauging the public opinion
of earlier days.

From the close of the eighth century to the close of the fifteenth, the
Spanish people, Castilians and Aragonese, were, if anything, less
bigoted than the rest of Europe. The influence of their neighbors the
Moors, and of their Arab toleration, could not be without its effect
upon a people naturally free, independent, and self-reliant, and the
Cid, who was certainly troubled with no religious scruples in the course
of his varied career, and who, according to a popular legend, affronted
and threatened the Pope on his throne in St Peter’s, on account of some
fancied slight,[4] could never have been the hero of a nation of bigots.
The degenerate Visigoths from the time of Reccared the Catholic to the
time of Roderic the Vanquished could never have produced a Cid. Yet,
even in the dark days of Erwig and Egica, there was found a Julian, who
boldly maintained the national independence against the pretensions of
the Pope of Rome. For a thousand years after the landing of St.
Paul--if, indeed, he ever landed upon the coast--the Spanish Church was,
perhaps, the most independent in Europe. The royal submission to the
Papal authority, first by Sancho I. of Aragon, in 1071, and afterward by
Alfonso VI. of Leon, in 1085, in the matter of the Romish Ritual, was
distinctly unpopular. Peter II. found no lack of recruits for the army
that he led against the Papal troops in Languedoc, and King James I.,
the most popular of the kings of Aragon, cut out the tongue of a
meddlesome bishop who had presumed to interfere in his private affairs
(1246). It was not until the Inquisition was forced upon United Spain by
Isabella the Catholic, and the national lust for the plunder of
strangers was aroused by the destruction of Granada, that the Spaniard
became a destroyer of heretics. It was not until the spoliation and the
banishment of Jews and Moriscos, and the opening of a new world of
heathen treasure on the discovery of America, that the Castilian, who
had always been independent himself, became intolerant of the
independence of others. Then, indeed, he added the cruelty of the priest
to the cruelty of the soldier, and wrapping himself in the cloak of a
proud and uncompromising national orthodoxy, became the most ferocious
bigot in two unhappy worlds.

But in the beginning it was not so. And if the Cid could possibly have
been annoyed by Torquemada, his knights would have hanged the Inquisitor
upon the nearest tree. No priests’ man, in good sooth, was Roderic of
Bivar, nor, save in that he was a brave and determined soldier, had the
great Castilian Free Lance anything in common with the more conventional
heroes of United Spain.

If history affords no reasonable explanation of his unrivaled renown
beyond that which has already been suggested, we find but little in the
early poetry to assist us. The Cid ballads impress us “more by their
number than their light.” They are neither very interesting in
themselves, nor are they even very suggestive. Only thirty-seven ballads
are considered by Huber to be older than the sixteenth century. “La
plupart de ces romances,” says M. Dozy, “accusent leur origine moderne”;
and, according to Mr. Ormsby, they do but little toward the illustration
of the Cid, either as a picturesque hero of romance or as a
characteristic feature of medieval history.

The great French dramatist scarcely touches the true history of his
hero. The scene of the play is laid at Seville, where no Christian king
set his foot for a hundred and fifty years after the death of Roderic.
The title which he accepted from his employer, Mostain of Saragossa, is
said to have been granted by Alfonso of Leon, after the capture of two
imaginary Moorish kings, unknown to history, in an impossible battle on
the banks of the Guadalquivir, which was never seen by the Cid. The
whole action of the play turns upon the moral and psychological
difficulties arising from the purely legendary incident of the killing
of Chimene’s father by her lover, avenging an insult offered to his own
sire, and of the somewhat artificial indignation of the lady, until she
is appeased by a slaughter of Moors. Corneille’s drama abounds in noble
sentiments expressed in most admirable verse; but it does not assist us
to understand the character of the Cid, nor the reasons of his
popularity in his own or in any other country. But certain at least it
is that from the earliest times the story of his life and his career
took a strong hold upon the popular imagination in Spain, and his
virtues and his vices, little as they may seem to us to warrant the
popular admiration, were understood and appreciated in the age in which
he lived, an age of force and fraud, of domestic treason and foreign
treachery, when religion preached little but battle and murder, and
patriotism was but a pretext for plunder and rapine. Admired thus, even
in his lifetime, as a gallant soldier, an independent chieftain, and an
ever successful general, fearless, dexterous, and strong, his free
career became a favorite theme with the jongleurs and troubadours of the
next generation; and from the Cid of history was evolved a Cid of
legendary song.

It is most difficult at the present day to know exactly where serious
history ends and where poetry and legend begin. Yet the Cid as
represented to us by M. Dozy, one of the most acute of modern
investigators of historic truth, is not so very different from the Cid
represented by Southey, or even by earlier and less critical poets, but
that we may form a reasonable estimate, from what is common to both
history and tradition, of what manner of man he was. The Cid of the
twelfth century legends, indeed, though he may be more marvelous, is by
no means more moral than the Cid of history. It was reserved for the
superior refinement of succeeding generations, and more especially for
the anonymous author of the poem of the thirteenth century to evolve a
hero of a gentler and nobler mold; a creature conforming to a higher
ideal of knightly perfection. From this time forward we have a glorified
Cid, whose adventures are no more historically false, perhaps, than
those of the unscrupulous and magnificent Paladin of the legends and
romances of the twelfth century, but whose character possesses all the
dignity and all the glory with which he could be invested by a generous
medieval imagination. And it is this refined and idealized hero;
idealized, yet most real; refined, yet eminently human, that has been
worshiped by nineteen generations of Spaniards as the national hero of

Ruy Diaz--as he lived and died--was probably no worse a man than any of
his neighbors. Far better than many of them he was, and undoubtedly
bolder and stronger, more capable, more adroit, and more successful.

Seven of the Christian princes of Spain at this period fell in battle
warring against their own near relations, or were murdered by their
hands in cold blood. Garcia of Castile was slain by the sword of the
Velas. Bermudo III. of Leon and Garcia Sanchez of Navarre died fighting
against their brother, Ferdinand of Castile. Sancho II. of Castile was
assassinated by order of his sister Urraca, besieged by him in her city
of Zamora. Among the Christian kings of the century immediately before
him, Garcia of Galicia was strangled in prison by the hands of his
brothers, Sancho and Alfonso; Sancho Garcia of Navarre was assassinated
by his brother Ramon, at Peñalva; Ramon Berenguer II. of Barcelona died
by the dagger of his brother Berenguer Ramon; Sancho the Fat, in 967,
was poisoned at a friendly repast by Gonzalo Sanchez; Ruy Velasquez of
Castile, in 986, murdered his seven nephews, the unfortunate Infantes de
Lara; Sancho of Castile, in 1010, poisoned his mother, who had
endeavored to poison him. At the wedding festivities at Leon, in 1026,
Garcia, Count of Castile, was assassinated at the church door, and the
murderers were promptly burned alive by his friends; Garcia of Navarre,
in 1030, as an incident in a family dispute about a horse, accused his
mother of adultery. Such was the standard of the eleventh century in the
north of the Peninsula.

To judge the Cid, even as we now know him, according to any code of
modern ethics, is supremely unreasonable. To be sure, even now, that we
know him as he was, is supremely presumptuous. But that Ruy Diaz was a
great man, and a great leader of men, a knight who would have shocked
modern poets, and a free lance who would have laughed at modern heroes,
we can have no manner of doubt. That he satisfied his contemporaries
and himself; that he slew Moors and Christians as occasion required,
with equal vigor and absolute impartiality; that he bearded the King of
Leon in his Christian council, and that he cozened the King of Saragossa
at the head of his Moslem army; that he rode the best horse and
brandished the best blade in Spain; that his armies never wanted for
valiant soldiers, nor his coffers for gold pieces; that he lived my Lord
the Challenger, the terror of every foe, and that he died rich and
respected in the noble city that had fallen to his knightly spear--of
all this at least we are certain; and, if the tale is displeasing to our
nineteenth century refinement, we must be content to believe that it
satisfied the aspirations of medieval Spain.




Moslem rule in Spain may be conveniently summarized as
consisting--first, in the Caliphs of Cordova; second, in the dynasty of
the Almoravides; third, in that of the Almohades; and, finally, the
kings of Granada.

Concerning the first it may be noted that in the long reign of the last
Abdur Rahman were the seeds of its dissolution. Brooking no rival during
his lifetime, at his death he found no successor. Then upon the ruins of
the great Caliphate twenty independent and hostile dynasties surged.
Meanwhile Alfonso was eyeing them from his citadel. At the gates of
Valencia was the Cid. For common safety the Moslem rivals looked for a
common defender. In Africa that defender was found in Yusuf, the Berber
chief of a tribe of religious soldiers known as the Almoravides.

Invited to Spain, he crossed over, and, meeting Alfonso at Zalaca, near
Badajoz, on the 23d of October, 1086, he routed him with great and
historic slaughter.

       *       *       *       *       *

Yusuf [says Burke] had come as a Moslem defender, but he remained as a
Moslem master. And once more in Spanish history, the over-powerful ally
turned his victorious arms against those who had welcomed him to their
shores. Yet Yusuf was no vulgar traitor. He had sworn to the envoys of
the Spanish Moslems that he would return to Africa, in the event of
victory, without the annexation to his African empire of a field or a
city to the north of the Straits. And his vow was religiously kept.
Retiring empty-handed to Mauritania, after the great battle at Zalaca,
he returned once more to Spain, unfettered on this new expedition by any
vow, and set to work with his usual vigor to make himself master of the
Peninsula. Tarifa fell in December. The next year saw the capture of
Seville, and of all of the principal cities of Andalusia. An army sent
by Alfonso VI., under his famous captain, Alvar Fanez, was completely
defeated, and all Southern Spain lay at the feet of the Berber, save
only Valencia, which remained impregnable so long as the Cid lived to
direct the defense. In 1102, after the hero’s death, Valencia succumbed,
and all Spain to the south of the Tagus became a province of the great
African empire of the Almoravides.

The rule of these hardy bigots was entirely unlike that of the Ommeyad
Caliphs of the West. Moslem Spain had no longer even an independent
existence. The sovereign resided not at Cordova, but at Morocco. The
poets and musicians were banished from court. The beauties of Az Zahra
were forgotten. Jews and Christians were alike persecuted. The kingdom
was governed with an iron hand. But if the rule of the stranger was not
generous, it was just, and for the moment it possessed the crowning
merit that it was efficient. The laws were once more respected. The
people once more dreamed of wealth and happiness. But it was little more
than a dream.

On the death of Yusuf in 1107 the scepter passed into the hands of his
son Ali, a more sympathetic but a far less powerful ruler. In 1118 the
great city of Saragossa, the last bulwark of Islam in the north of the
Peninsula, was taken by Alfonso I. of Aragon, who carried his victorious
arms into Southern Spain, and fulfilled a rash vow by eating a dinner of
fresh fish on the coast of Granada.

Yet it was by no Christian hand that the empire of the Almoravides was
to be overthrown.

Mohammed Ibn Abdullah, a lamplighter in the mosque at Cordova, had made
his way to remote Bagdad to study at the feet of Abu Hamid Algazali, a
celebrated doctor of Moslem law. The strange adventures, so
characteristic of his age and nation, by which the lowly student became
a religious reformer--a Mahdi--and a conqueror in Africa, and at length
overthrew the Almoravides, both to the north and the south of the
Straits of Gibraltar, forms a most curious chapter in the history of
Islam; but in a brief sketch of the fortunes of medieval Spain, it must
suffice to say that having established his religious and military power
among the Berber tribes of Africa, Ibn Abdullah, the Mahdi, landed at
Algeciras in 1145, and possessed himself in less than four years of
Malaga, Seville, Granada, and Cordova. The empire of the Almoravides was
completely destroyed; and, before the close of the year 1149, all Moslem
Spain acknowledged the supremacy of the Almohades.

These more sturdy fanatics were still African rather than Spanish
sovereigns. Moslem Spain was administered by a Vali deputed from
Morocco; and Cordova, shorn of much of its former splendor, was the
occasional abode of a royal visitor from Barbary. For seventy years the
Almohades retained their position in Spain. But their rule was not of
glory but of decay. One high feat of arms indeed shed a dying luster on
the name of the Berber prince who reigned for fifteen years (1184-99)
under the auspicious title of Almanzor, and his great Moslem victory
over Alfonso II. at Alarcon in 1195 revived for the time the drooping
fortunes of the Almohades. But their empire was already doomed,
decaying, disintegrated, wasting away. And at length the terrible defeat
of the Moslem forces by the united armies of the three Christian kings
at the Navas do Tolosa in 1212, at once the most crushing and the most
authentic of all the Christian victories of medieval Spain, gave a final
and deadly blow to the Moslem dominion of the Peninsula. Within a few
years of that celebrated battle, Granada alone was subject to the rule
of Islam.

It was in the year 1228 that a descendant of the old Moorish kings of
Saragossa rebelled against the Almohades and succeeded in making himself
master not merely of Granada, but of Cordova, Seville, Algeciras, and
even of Ceuta, and, obtaining a confirmation of his rights from Bagdad,
assumed the title of Amir ul Moslemin--Commander of the Moslems--and Al
Mutawakal--the Protected of God.

But a rival was not slow to appear. Mohammed Al Ahmar, the Fair or the
Ruddy, defeated, dethroned, and slew Al Mutawakal, and reigned in his
stead in Andalusia. Despoiled in his turn of most of his possessions by
St. Ferdinand of Castile, Al Ahmar was fain at length to content
himself with the rich districts in the extreme south of the Peninsula,
which are known to fame, wherever the Spanish or the English language is
spoken, as the Kingdom of Granada. And thus it came to pass that the
city on the banks of the Darro, the home of the proud and highly
cultivated Syrians of Damascus, the flower of the early Arab invaders of
Spain, became also the abiding place of the later Arab civilization,
overmastered year after year, and destroyed, by the Christian armies
ever pressing on to the southern sea. Yet, in the middle of the
thirteenth century, the flood tide of reconquest had for the moment
fairly spent itself. The Christians were not strong enough to conquer,
and above all they were not numerous enough to occupy, the districts
that were still peopled by the Moor; and for once a wise and highly
cultivated Christian shared the supreme power in the Peninsula with a
generous and honorable Moslem. Alfonso X. sought not to extend his
frontiers, but to educate his people, not to slaughter his neighbors,
but to give laws to his subjects, not to plunder frontier cities, but to
make Castile into a kingdom, with a history, a civilization, and a
language of her own. If the reputation of Alfonso is by no means
commensurate with his true greatness, the statesmanship of Mohammed Al
Ahmar, the founder of the ever famous Kingdom of Granada, is
overshadowed by his undying fame as an architect. Yet is Al Ahmar worthy
of remembrance as a king and the parent of kings in Spain. The loyal
friend and ally of his Christian neighbor, the prudent administrator of
his own dominions, he collected at his Arab court a great part of the
wealth, the science, and the intelligence of Spain. His empire has long
ago been broken up; the Moslem has been driven out; there is no king nor
kingdom of Granada. But their memory lives in the great palace fortress
whose red towers still rise over the sparkling Darro, and whose fairy
chambers are still to be seen in what is, perhaps, the most celebrated
of the wonder works of the master builders of the world.

After his long and glorious reign of forty-two years, Mohammed the Fair
was killed by a fall from his horse near Granada, and was succeeded by
his son, Mohammed II., in the last days of the year 1272. Al Ahmar had
ever remained at peace with Alfonso X., but his son, taking advantage of
the king’s absence in quest of an empire in Germany, sought the
assistance of Yusuf, the sovereign or emperor of Morocco, and invaded
the Christian frontiers.

Victory was for some time on the side of the Moors. The Castilians were
defeated at Ecija in 1275, and their leader, the Viceroy Don Nunez de
Lara, was killed in battle, as was also Don Sancho, Infante of Aragon
and Archbishop of Toledo, after the rout of his army at Martos, near
Jaen, on the 21st of October, 1275; and the victorious Yusuf ravaged
Christian Spain to the very gates of Seville.

In the next year, 1276, the Castilian armies were again twice defeated,
in February at Alcoy and in the following July at Lucena. To add to
their troubles, King James of Aragon died at Valencia in 1276. Sancho of
Castile sought to depose his father Alfonso, at Valladolid. All was in
confusion among the Christians; and had it not been for the defection of
Yusuf of Morocco, the tide of fortune might have turned in favor of
Islam. As it was, the African monarch not only abandoned his cousin of
Granada, but he was actually persuaded to send one hundred thousand
ducats to his Christian rival at Seville in 1280.

The value of this assistance was soon felt. Tarifa was taken in 1292,
and the progress of the Moor was checked forever in Southern Spain.
Mohammed II. died in 1302, and was succeeded by his son, Mohammed III.,
who was usually considered by the Moslem historians to have been the
ablest monarch of his house. But he reigned for only seven years, and he
was unable to defend Gibraltar from the assaults of his Christian

From this time the court of Granada became a sort of city of refuge for
the disaffected lords and princes of Castile, who sometimes, but rarely,
prevailed upon their Moslem hosts to assist them in expeditions into
Christian Spain, but who were always welcomed with true Arab hospitality
at the Moslem capital. To record their various intrigues would be a vain
and unpleasing task. The general course of history was hardly affected
by passing alliances. The Christian pressed on--with ever-increasing
territory behind him--on his road to the southern sea.

In 1319, Abdul Walid or Ismail I. of Granada defeated and slew Don Pedro
and Don Juan, Infantes of Castile, at a place near Granada, still known
as the Sierra de los Infantes. But no important consequences followed
the victory.

In the reign of Yusuf (1333-54) was fought the great battle of the
Salado (1340), when the Christians, under Alfonso XI., were completely
successful; and the capitulation of Algeciras three years later deprived
the Moslems of an important harbor and seaport. Day by day--almost hour
by hour--the Christians encroached upon Granada, even while cultivating
the political friendship and accepting the private hospitality of the
Moslem. Their treacherous intervention reached its climax in 1362, when
Peter the Cruel decoyed the King Abu Said, under his royal safe-conduct,
to the palace at Seville, and slew him with his own hand.

With Mohammed or Maulai al Aisar, or the Left-handed, the affairs of
Granada became more intimately connected with the serious history of
Spain. Al Hayzari, proclaimed king in 1423, and dethroned soon after by
his cousin, another Mohammed, in 1427 sought and found refuge at the
court of John II., by whose instrumentality he was restored to his
throne at the Alhambra in 1429. Yet within four years a rival sovereign,
Yusuf, had secured the support of the fickle Christian, and Muley the
Left-handed was forced a second time to fly from his capital. Once
again, by the sudden death of the new usurper, he returned to reign at
Granada, and once again for the third time he was supplanted by a more
fortunate rival, who reigned as Mohammed IX. for nearly ten years
(1445-54). At the end of this period, however, another pretender was
dispatched from the Christian court, and after much fighting and
intrigue, Mohammed Ibn Ismail, a nephew of Maulai or Muley the
Left-handed, drove out the reigning sovereign and succeeded him as
Mohammed X.

Yet were the dominions of this Christian ally unceasingly ravaged by his
Christian neighbors. Gibraltar, Archidona, and much surrounding
territory were taken by the forces of Henry IV. and his nobles; and a
treaty was at length concluded in 1464, in which it was agreed that
Mohammed of Granada should hold his kingdom under the protection of
Castile, and should pay an annual subsidy or tribute of twelve thousand
gold ducats. It was thus, on the death, in 1466, of this Mohammed Ismail
of Granada, that a vexed and harassed throne was inherited by his son
Muley Abul Hassan, ever famous in history and romance as “The old
king”--the last independent sovereign of Granada.

Meanwhile, Henry’s only daughter Joanna being regarded as the fruit of
the queen’s adultery, he was deposed, but restored after acknowledging
as his heiress his sister Isabella, who subsequently, through her
marriage with Ferdinand of Aragon, joined the two most powerful of
Spanish kingdoms into one yet more powerful State.

To return now to Muley Abul Hassan.[5] For many years after his
accession he observed with his Christian neighbors the treaties that had
been made, nor did he take advantage of the civil war which arose by
reason of Joanna’s pretensions to add to the difficulties already
existing, and in the spring of 1476 sought a formal renewal of the old
Treaty of Peace.

Ferdinand, however, made his acceptance of the king’s proposal
contingent upon the grant of an annual tribute; and he sent an envoy to
the Moslem court to negotiate the terms of payment. But the reply of
Abul Hassan was decisive. “Steel,” said he, “not gold, was what
Ferdinand should have from Granada!” Disappointed of their subsidy, and
unprepared for war, the Christian sovereigns were content to renew the
treaty, with a mental reservation that as soon as a favorable
opportunity should present itself they would drive every Moslem not
only out of Granada, but out of Spain.

For five years there was peace between Abul Hassan and the Catholic
sovereigns. The commencement of hostilities was the capture of Zahara by
the Moslems at the close of the year 1481; which was followed early in
next year, 1482, by the conquest of the far more important Moorish
stronghold of Alhama, not by the troops of Ferdinand and Isabella, but
by the followers of Ponce de Leon, the celebrated Marquis of Cadiz.
Alhama was not merely a fortress. It was a treasure-house and a
magazine; and it was but five or six leagues from Granada. The town was
sacked with the usual horrors. The Marquis of Cadiz, having made good
his position within the walls, defied all the attacks of Abul Hassan,
and at the same time sent messengers to every Christian lord in
Andalusia to come to his assistance--to all save one, his hereditary
enemy, the Duke of Medina Sidonia, chief of the great family of the
Guzmans. Yet it was this generous rival, who, assembling all his
chivalry and retainers, was the first to appear before the walls of
Alhama, and relieve the Christians from the threatened assault of the
Moslem. The days of civil discord had passed away in Castile; and
against united Christendom, Islam could not long exist in Spain.

Meanwhile, Ferdinand, seeing that war had finally broken out, started
from Medina del Campo, and marched with all speed to Cordova, where he
was joined by Isabella early in April, 1482. The Inquisition had now
been for over a year in full blast at Seville. The fires of persecution
had been fairly lighted. The reign of bigotry had begun, and the king
and queen were encouraged to proceed from the plunder of the Jews or New
Christians to the plunder of the Moslems. Ferdinand accordingly repaired
in person to Alhama, with a large train of prelates and ecclesiastics of
lower degree. The city was solemnly purified. Three mosques were
consecrated by the Cardinal of Spain for Christian worship. Bells,
crosses, plate, altar cloths were furnished without stint; and Alhama
having been thus restored to civilization, Ferdinand descended upon the
fruitful valley or Vega of Granada, destroyed the crops, cut down the
fruit trees, uprooted the vines, and, without having encountered a
single armed enemy in the course of his crusade, returned in triumph to
Cordova. A more arduous enterprise in the following July was not
attended with the same success, when Ferdinand attacked the important
town of Loja, and was repulsed with great loss of Christian life. An
expedition against Malaga, later in the year, undertaken by Alfonso de
Cardenas, Grand Master of Santiago, and the Marquis of Cadiz, was even
more disastrous, for a small body of Moors in the mountain defiles of
the Axarquia fell upon the Christian marauders, and no less than four
hundred “persons of quality” are said to have perished in the retreat,
including thirty commanders of the great military order of Santiago. The
Grand Master, the Marquis of Cadiz, and Don Alfonso de Aguilar escaped
as by a miracle, and the survivors straggled into Loja and Antequera and
Malaga, leaving Abul Hassan and his brother Al Zagal, or the Valiant,
with all the honors of war.

But the successes of the Moor in the field were more than
counterbalanced by treason in the palace. By Zoraya, a lady of Christian
ancestry, Muley Abul Hassan had a son, Abu Abdallah, who has earned a
sad notoriety under the more familiar name of Boabdil. Jealous of some
rival, or ambitious of greater power, the Sultana and her son intrigued
against their sovereign, and having escaped from the State prison, in
which they were at first prudently confined, raised the standard of
revolt, and compelled Abul Hassan, who was thenceforth more usually
spoken of as the Old King, to seek refuge on the sea-coast at Malaga.

Boabdil, jealous of the success of his father and his undo at Loja and
in the Axarquia, and anxious to confirm his power by some striking
victory over the Christians, took the field and confronted the forces of
the Count of Cabra, near Lucena. The battle was hotly contested, but
victory remained with the Christians. Ali Atar, the bravest of the
Moorish generals, was slain by the hand of Alfonso de Aguilar, and
Boabdil himself was taken prisoner by a common soldier, Hurtado by name,
and fell into the hands of the victorious Count of Cabra.

The captivity of Boabdil, the Little King, el Rey Chico, as he was
called by the Castilians, was the turning point in the history of the
Moorish dominion in Spain. Released on payment of a magnificent ransom
provided by his mother Zoraya, and bound to his Christian captors by a
humiliating treaty, he returned to Granada, disgraced and dishonored, as
the ally of the enemies of his country. Driven out of the capital by the
forces of his father, who had returned to occupy the great
palace-fortress of Alhambra, Boabdil and his mother retired to Almeria,
the second city in the kingdom; and the whole country was distracted by
civil war.

Yet for four years the Castilians refrained from any important
expedition against Granada. Their tactics were rather those of Scipio at
Numantia. For Delay was all in favor of Disintegration.

Yet the merciless devastation of fields and crops was carried on with
systematic and dreadful completeness. Thirty thousand destroyers of
peaceful homesteads, granaries, farmhouses, and mills were constantly at
work, and ere long there was scarce a vineyard or an oliveyard, scarce
an orchard or an orange-grove existing within reach of the Christian
borders. Under cover of the treaty with Boabdil, this devilish enginery
of destruction was steadily pushed forward, while the old king and his
more vigorous brother El Zagal were prevented by domestic treason from
making any effectual defense of their fatherland. Some of the border
towns, moreover, fell into the hands of the Christians, and many forays
were undertaken which produced rich booty for the marauders. Ferdinand
in the meantime occupied himself rather with the affairs of the
Inquisition and of foreign policy, while Isabella was personally
superintending the enormous preparations for a final attack on Granada.
Artillery was cast in large quantities, and artificers imported from
France and Italy; large stores of ammunition were procured from
Flanders. Nothing was hurried; nothing was spared; nothing was forgotten
by Isabella. A camp hospital, the first, it is said, in the history of
warfare, was instituted by the queen, whose energy was indefatigable,
whose powers of organization were boundless, and whose determination was
inflexible. To represent her as a tender and a timid princess is to
turn her true greatness into ridicule. But her vigor, her prudence, and
her perseverance are beyond the vulgar praise of history.

Meanwhile, Granada was gradually withering away. The “pomegranate,” as
Ferdinand had foreseen and foretold, was losing one by one the seeds of
which the rich and lovely fruit had once been all compact. The old king,
defeated but not disgraced, blind, infirm, and unfortunate, was
succeeded too late by his more capable brother, El Zagal, a gallant
warrior, a skillful commander, and a resolute ruler. But if “the valiant
one” might hardly have held his own against the enormous resources of
the Christians in Europe, he was powerless against the combination of
foreign vigor and domestic treachery. The true conqueror of Granada is
Boabdil, the rebel and the traitor, who has been euphemistically
surnamed the Unlucky (El Zogoibi). Innocent, perchance, of the massacre
of the brave Abencerrages, he is guilty of the blood of his country.

The capture of Velez Malaga by Ferdinand, already well supplied with a
powerful train of artillery, in April, 1487--while El Zagal was fighting
for his life against Boabdil in Granada--was soon followed by the
reduction, after a most heroic defense, of the far more important city
of Malaga in August, 1487. But the heroism of the Moslem woke no
generous echo in the hearts of either Ferdinand or Isabella. The entire
population of the captured city, men, women, and children--some fifteen
thousand souls--was reduced to slavery, and distributed not only over
Spain, but over Europe.

A hundred choice warriors were sent as a gift to the Pope. Fifty of the
most beautiful girls were presented to the Queen of Naples, thirty more
to the Queen of Portugal, others to the ladies of her court, and the
residue of both sexes were portioned off among the nobles, the knights,
and the common soldiers of the army, according to their rank and

For the Jews and renegades a more dreadful doom was reserved; and the
flames in which they perished were, in the words of a contemporary
ecclesiastic, “the illuminations most grateful to the Catholic piety of
Ferdinand and Isabella.” The town was repeopled by Christian immigrants,
to whom the lands and houses of the Moslem owners were granted with
royal liberality by the victors. The fall of Malaga, the second seaport
and the third city of the kingdom of Granada, was a grievous loss to the
Moors; and the Christian blockade was drawn closer both by land and by
sea. Yet an invasion of the eastern provinces, undertaken by Ferdinand
himself in 1488, was repulsed by El Zagal; and the Christian army was
disbanded as usual at the close of the year, without having extended the
Christian dominions.

But in the spring of 1489 greater efforts were made. The Castilians sat
down before the town of Baza, not far from Jaen, and after a siege which
lasted until the following December, the city surrendered, not, as in
the case of Malaga, without conditions, but upon honorable terms of
capitulation, which the assailants, who had only been prevented by the
arrival of Isabella from raising the siege, were heartily glad to
accept. The fall of Baza was of more than passing importance, for it was
followed by the capitulation of Almeria, the second city in the kingdom,
and by the submission of El Zagal, who renounced as hopeless the double
task of fighting against his nephew at the Alhambra, and resisting the
Christian sovereigns who had already overrun his borders. The fallen
monarch passed over to Africa, where he died in indigence and misery,
the last of the great Moslem rulers of Spain.

In the spring of 1490, Ferdinand, already master of the greater part of
the Moorish kingdom, sent a formal summons to his bondman, Boabdil, to
surrender to him the city of Granada; and that wretched and most foolish
traitor, who had refrained from action when action might have saved his
country, now defied the victorious Christians, when his defiance could
only lead to further suffering and greater disaster.

Throughout the summer of 1490, Ferdinand, in person, devoted himself to
the odious task of the devastation of the entire Vega of Granada, and
the depopulation of the town of Guadix. But in the spring of the next
year, Isabella, who was ever the life and soul of the war, took up her
position within six miles of the city, and pitched her camp at Ojos de
Huescar at the very gate of Granada.

And here was found assembled, not only all the best blood of Castile,
but volunteers and mercenary troops from various countries in Europe.
France, England, Italy, and even Germany, each provided their
contingent; and a body of Swiss soldiers of fortune showed the gallant
cavaliers of the Christian army the power and the value of a well
disciplined infantry. Among the foreigners who had come over to Spain in
1486 was an English lord, the Earl of Rivers, known by the Spaniards as
El Conde de Escalas, from his family name of Scales, whose magnificence
attracted the admiration of all, even at the magnificent court of

But the destruction of Granada was not brought about by these gilded
strangers, nor even by the brilliant knights and nobles of Spain. It was
not due to skillful engineers nor to irresistible commanders. The gates
were opened by no victory. The walls were scaled by no assault. The
Christian success was due to the patient determination of Isabella, to
the decay and disintegration of the Moorish Commonwealth, and, to some
extent, to the skillful negotiation and diplomatic astuteness of a young
soldier whose early influence upon the fortunes of Spain has been
overshadowed by the greatness of his later achievements.

For among all the splendid knights and nobles who assembled in the camp
of Isabella, the chroniclers wellnigh overlooked a gay cavalier of
modest fortune, the younger brother of Alfonso de Aguilar, distinguished
rather as a fop than a warrior--Gonsalvo Hernandez of Cordova, whose
fame was destined to eclipse that of all his companions in arms, and who
has earned an undying reputation in the history of three countries as
“The Great Captain.”

The life of Gonsalvo de Cordova is interesting as being the history of a
brave soldier and an accomplished general, who flourished at a very
important period of the history of Europe. But it is further and much
more interesting as being the history of a man who united in himself
many of the characteristics of ancient and of modern times. His bravery
was the bravery of an old Castilian knight, and although he had many
splendid rivals, he was pronounced by common consent to be their
superior. Yet his individual courage was the least remarkable of his
qualities. He was a general such as the Western world had not known for
a thousand years, and he was the first diplomatist of modern Europe. In
personal valor, in knightly courtesy, in brave display, he was of his
own time. In astute generalship, and in still more astute diplomacy, he
may be said to have inaugurated a new era; and although greater
commanders have existed after him, as well as before him, he will always
be known as “The Great Captain.”

The conquest of Granada marks an epoch, not only in the history of
Spain, but in the history of Europe; and Gonsalvo was the hero of
Granada. The expedition of Charles VIII. into Italy is a subject of
almost romantic interest, very nearly preferred by Gibbon to his own
immortal theme; and Gonsalvo in Italy was the admired of all French and
Italian admirers. The succeeding expedition of Louis XII. was scarcely
less interesting, and the part played by Gonsalvo was even more
remarkable. At his birth artillery was almost unknown. At his death it
had become the most formidable arm of offense; it had revolutionized the
rules and manner of warfare; and it was employed by The Great Captain in
both his Italian campaigns with marked skill and success.

Gonsalvo Hernandez was born at Montilla, near Cordova, in 1453, of the
noble and ancient family of the Aguilars. After a boyhood and youth
devoted, not only to every manly sport and pursuit, and to the practice
of arms, but to the study of letters, and more especially of the Arabic
language, he made his first appearance in serious warfare on the field
of Olmedo, fighting under the banner of the Marquis of Villena. On the
death of Prince Alfonso, Gonsalvo returned to Cordova. His father had
already died; and according to the Spanish law of primogeniture the
whole of the rich estates of the family of Aguilar passed, on the death
of Don Pedro, to his eldest son Alfonso, while nothing but a little
personal property, a great name, a fine person, and “the hope of what he
might gain by his good fortune or his valor” was inherited by Alfonso’s
younger brother.

Cordova was obviously too small a field for Gonsalvo de Aguilar; and in
the course of the eventful year 1474, having just arrived at man’s
estate, he proceeded to Segovia, and distinguished himself among the
young nobles who crowded to the Court of Isabella, by his prowess at
tournaments and all warlike games and exercises; and he soon became
celebrated for his personal beauty as well as for his valor,
distinguished for his fascinating manners, and, above all, by an
eloquence rarely found in a young soldier of two-and-twenty. He was
generally known as “the Prince of the Youth”; and he supported the
character by an almost royal liberality and ostentatious expenditure
entirely incompatible with his modest fortune.

In the war of succession between Isabella and her niece, Gonsalvo served
under Alfonso de Cardenas, Grand Master of Santiago, in command of a
troop of one hundred and twenty horsemen; and he particularly
distinguished himself at the battle of Albuera.

And now, in the camp before Granada, he was well pleased once more to
sun himself in the smiles of his queen and patroness, whose presence in
the camp inspired every soldier with enthusiasm. Isabella appeared on
the field superbly mounted and dressed in complete armor, and
continually visited the different quarters, and held reviews of the
troops. On one occasion she expressed a desire to have a nearer view of
the city, and a picked body of men, among whom was Gonsalvo de Cordova,
commanded by the Marquis Duke of Cadiz, escorted her to the little
village of Zubia, within a short distance of Granada. The citizens,
indignant at the near approach of so small a force, sallied out and
attacked them. The Christians, however, stood their ground so bravely,
and performed such prodigies of valor under the very eyes of Isabella
herself, that no less than two thousand Moslems are said to have fallen
in that memorable affray.

It happened one night, about the middle of July, that the drapery of the
tent or pavilion in which Isabella was lodged took fire, and the
conflagration was not extinguished until several of the neighboring
tents had been consumed. The queen and her attendants escaped unhurt,
but a general consternation prevailed throughout the camp, until it was
discovered that no more serious loss had been experienced than that of
the queen’s wardrobe.

Gonsalvo, however, who on more than one occasion showed himself at least
as practical a courtier as Sir Walter Raleigh, immediately sent an
express to Illora, and obtained such a supply of fine clothes from his
wife, Doña Maria Manrique, that the queen herself was amazed, as much
at their magnificence as at the rapidity with which they had been

But this incident led to even more important results than the amiable
pillage of Doña Maria’s wardrobe; for in order to guard against a
similar disaster, as well as to provide comfortable winter quarters for
the troops, Isabella determined to construct a sufficient number of
houses of solid masonry to provide quarters for the besieging army, a
design which was carried out in less than three months. This martial and
Christian town, which received the appropriate name of Santa Fe, may be
still seen by the traveler in the Vega of Granada, and is pointed out by
good Catholics as the only town in Andalusia that has never been
contaminated by the Moslem.

But in spite of the attractions of all these feats of arms and
exhibitions of magnificence, and of all the personal display and rash
adventure which savors so much more of medieval chivalry than of modern
warfare, Gonsalvo was more seriously engaged in the schemes and
negotiations which contributed almost as much as the prowess of the
Christian arms to the fall of Granada. He had spies everywhere. He knew
what was going on in Granada better than Boabdil. He knew what was going
on in the camp better than Ferdinand. His familiarity with Arabic
enabled him to maintain secret communications with recreant Moors,
without the dangerous intervention of an interpreter. He kept up
constant communications with Illora, and having obtained the allegiance
or friendship of the Moorish chief, Ali Atar, he gained possession of
the neighboring fortress of Mondejar. He sent presents, in truly
Oriental style, to many of the Moorish leaders in Granada who favored
the party of Boabdil, and he was at length chosen by Isabella as the
most proper person to conduct the negotiations that led to the treaty of
capitulation, which was signed on the 25th of November, 1491.

The nature and the effect of this Convention are well known. The
triumphal entry of the Christians into the old Moslem capital; “the last
sigh of the Moor,” and the setting up of the Cross in the palace-citadel
of Alhambra, not only form one of the most glowing pages in the romance
of history, but they mark an epoch in the annals of the world.




The history of Spain assumed a new phase when, at the fall of Granada,
the attention of potentates and people ceased to be absorbed by the
excitement of a great religious war. Then the past and the romance of it
ended and the history of modern Spain began.

Before proceeding with the latter, a name and a tribunal detain
attention. The one is Torquemada. The other is the Inquisition. Burke
has described them both, as follows:

       *       *       *       *       *

The Inquisition, established in Italy by Honorius III. in 1231, and in
France by St. Louis in 1233, was formally introduced into Spain by
Gregory IX. in 1235, by a Rescript of April 30th, addressed to Mongriu,
Archbishop-Administrator of Tarragona, confirming and explaining
previous Briefs and Bulls upon the subject of the repression of heresy;
and prescribing the issue of certain Instructions which had been
prepared at the desire of his holiness by a Spanish saint, the Dominican
Raymond of Penafort. From this time forward, Bulls on the subject of
the Inquisition into heresy were frequently issued; and the followers of
Dominic were ever the trusted agents of the Holy See.

The first suggestion of the serious introduction of the Tribunal of the
Holy Office into Castile, at the end of the fifteenth century, is said
to have come from Sicily. An Italian friar bearing the suggestive name
of Dei Barberi, Inquisitor-general at Messina, paid a visit to his
sovereign Ferdinand at Seville in 1477, in order to procure the
confirmation of a privilege accorded to the Sicilian Dominicans by the
Emperor Frederic II., in 1233, by virtue of which the Inquisitors
entered into possession of one-third of the goods of the heretic whom
they condemned. This dangerous charter was confirmed in due course by
Ferdinand on the 2d of September, 1477, and by Isabella on the 18th of
October; and very little argument was required on the part of the
gratified envoy to convince his sovereign of the various temporal and
spiritual advantages that would follow the introduction of the Tribunal,
that had so long existed in an undeveloped form in Sicily and in Aragon,
into the dominions of his pious consort, Isabella of Castile.

In the middle of the year 1480 there was as yet no court of the Holy
Inquisition established in Spain. At length, pressed by the Papal
Nuncio, by the Dominicans, by her confessor, most of all by her husband,
Isabella gave her consent; and at length, in August, 1483, the
Inquisition was established as a permanent tribunal. Tomas de Torquemada
was appointed Inquisitor-general of both Castile and Aragon. Subordinate
tribunals were constituted; new and more stringent regulations were
made; the victims smoked from day to day on the great stone altar of
the Quemadero.

The life of Tomas de Torquemada is the history of contemporary Spain.
Born of a noble family, already distinguished in the Church by the
reputation of the cardinal his uncle, Tomas early assumed the habit of a
Dominican, and was in course of time appointed prior of an important
monastery at Segovia, and confessor to the young Princess Isabella. His
influence upon that royal lady was naturally great; his piety pleased
her; his austerity affected her; and his powerful will directed, if it
could not subdue, a will as powerful as his own. Brought up far away
from a court whose frivolities had no charm for her, and where, under
any circumstances, she would have been considered as a rival if not a
pretender, the counsels of her confessor, both sacred and secular, were
the most authoritative that she could expect to obtain. It has been
constantly asserted that the friar obtained from the princess a promise
that, in the event of her elevation to the throne of Castile, she would
devote herself to the destruction of heretics and the increase of the
power of the Church. Such a promise would have been but one of many
which such a confessor would have obtained from such a penitent, and
would have been but the natural result of his teaching. Nor is it
surprising that in the intrigues that preceded the death of Henry IV.,
and the War of Succession that immediately followed it, the whole
influence of the priesthood should have been cast on the side of
Isabella and against her niece Joanna. For ten years, says the
biographer of his Order, the skillful hand of Torquemada cultivated the
intellect of Isabella; and in due course the propitious marriage with
Ferdinand of Aragon, far from removing his pupil from his sacerdotal
influence, brought him a new and an equally illustrious penitent.
Torquemada became the confessor of the king as well as of the queen.

If the establishment of the Inquisition was the fulfillment of
Isabella’s vow, and the realization of the aspirations of her tutor, his
appointment as Inquisitor-general, although it necessitated the choice
of another confessor, did not by any means withdraw him from his old
sphere of influence. He ceased not to preach the destruction of the
Moslem, even as he was employed about the destruction of the Jew; and if
Isabella was the active patroness of the war in Granada, there was a
darker spirit behind the throne, ever preaching the sacred duty of the
slaughter of the infidel and the heretic of every race and nation.

Torquemada was at once a politician and an enthusiast; rigid, austere,
uncompromising; unbounded in his ambition, yet content to sacrifice
himself to the cause that made him what he was. His moral superiority to
the Innocents and Alexanders at Rome, his intellectual superiority to
the Carrillos and the fighting bishops of Spain, gave him that enormous
influence over both queen and king which his consuming bigotry and his
relentless tenacity of purpose induced him to use with such dreadful
effect. Aggressive even in his profession of humility, Torquemada was
insolent, not only to his unhappy victims, but to his colleagues, to his
sovereigns, to his Holy Father at Rome. He was, perhaps, the only man in
Europe who was more masterful than Isabella, more bloodthirsty than
Alexander; and he was able to impose his own will on both queen and
pope. Rejecting in his proud humility every offer of the miter, he
asserted and maintained his ecclesiastical supremacy even over the
Primate of Spain. Attended by a body-guard of noble youths who were glad
to secure at once the favor of the queen and immunity from
ecclesiastical censure by assuming the habit of the Familiars of the
Holy Office, the great destroyer lived in daily dread of the hand of the

Fifty horsemen and two hundred foot-guards always attended him. Nor was
it deemed inconsistent with the purity of his own religious faith that
he should carry about with him a talisman, in the shape of the horn of
some strange animal, invested with the mysterious power of preventing
the action of poison.

On the death of Torquemada in September, 1498, Don Diego Deza was
promoted to the office of Inquisitor-general of Spain. Yet the activity
of the Ecclesiastical Tribunal was rather increased than diminished by
the change of masters, and an attempt was made soon afterward to extend
its operations to Naples. But Gonsalvo de Cordova, who was then acting
as viceroy, took upon himself to disregard not only the demands of the
Inquisitors, but the orders of Ferdinand (June 30, 1504), and to
postpone the introduction of the new tribunal into the country that he
so wisely and so liberally governed. After the recall of his great
representative, some six years later, Ferdinand himself made another
attempt to establish the hated Tribunal in Italy in 1510. But even
Ferdinand did not prevail; and Naples retained the happy immunity which
it owed to the Great Captain.

If no error is more gross than to suppose that the establishment of the
Inquisition was due to popular feeling in Spain, it is almost equally
false to assert that it was the work of the contemporary popes. Rome was
bad enough at the end of the fifteenth century; but her vast load of
wickedness need not be increased by the burden of sins that are not her
own. The everlasting shame of the Spanish Inquisition is that of the
Catholic kings. It is not difficult to understand why the poor and
rapacious Ferdinand of Aragon should welcome the establishment of an
instrument of extortion which placed at his disposal the accumulated
savings of the richest citizens of Castile. It is yet easier to
comprehend that Isabella, who was not of a temper to brook resistance to
authority in Church or State, should have consented to what her husband
so earnestly desired. The queen, moreover, was at least sincerely
religious, after the fashion of the day; and was constrained to follow
the dictates of her confessor in matters judged by him to be within his
spiritual jurisdiction, even while she was, as a civil ruler,
withstanding the Pope himself on matters of temporal sovereignty.

It is the height of folly to brand Isabella as a hypocrite, because we
are unable to follow the workings of a medieval mind, or to appreciate
the curious religious temper--by no means confined to the men and women
of the fifteenth century--that can permit or compel the same person to
be devoted to Popery and to be at war with the Pope, and find in the
punctilious observance of ceremonial duty excuse or encouragement for
the gratification of any vice and the commission of any crime. But that
the nobility and people of Castile should have permitted the crown to
impose upon them a foreign and an ecclesiastical despotism, is at first
sight much harder to understand. No one reason, but an unhappy
combination of causes, may perhaps be found to explain it.

The influence of the queen was great. Respected as well as feared by the
nobles, she was long admired and beloved by the mass of the people.[6]
The great success of her administration, which was apparent even by the
end of 1480; her repression of the nobility; her studied respect for the
Cortes; all these things predisposed the Castilians, who had so long
suffered under weak and unworthy sovereigns, to trust themselves not
only to the justice but to the wisdom of the queen. The influence of the
clergy, if not so great as it was in France or Italy, was no doubt
considerable, and, as a rule, though not always, it was cast on the side
of the Inquisition. Last and most unhappy reason of all, the nobility
and the people were divided; and, if not actually hostile, were at least
ever at variance in Castile.

The first efforts of the new tribunal, too, were directed either against
the converted Jews, of whose prosperity the Christians were already
jealous, and for whose interested tergiversations no one could feel any
respect; or against the more or less converted Moslems, toward whom
their neighbors still maintained a certain hereditary antipathy. The New
Christians alone were to be haled before the new tribunal. The Old
Christians might trust in the queen, if not in their own irreproachable
lineage, to protect them from hurt or harm.

The number of subordinate or subsidiary tribunals of the Holy Office was
at first only four; established at Seville, Cordova, Jaen, and Ciudad
Real. The number was gradually increased, during the reign of the
Catholic kings, to thirteen; and over all these Ferdinand erected, in
1483, a court of supervision under the name of the Council of the
Supreme, consisting of the Grand Inquisitor as President, and three
other subordinate ecclesiastics, well disposed to the crown, and ready
to guard the royal interests in confiscated property.

One of the first duties of this tremendous Council was the preparation
of a code of rules or Instructions, based upon the Inquisitor’s Manual
of Eymeric, which had been promulgated in Aragon in the fourteenth
century. The new work was promptly and thoroughly done; and twenty-eight
comprehensive sections left but little to be provided for in the future.

The prosecution of unorthodox Spanish bishops by Torquemada on the
ground of the supposed backslidings of their respective fathers is
sufficiently characteristic of the methods of the Inquisition to be
worthy of a passing notice. Davila, bishop of Segovia, and Aranda,
bishop of Calahorra, were the sons of Jews who had been converted and
baptized by St. Vincent Ferrer. No suspicion existed as to the orthodoxy
of the prelates, both of whom were men distinguished for their learning
and their piety. But it was suggested that their fathers had relapsed
into Judaism before they died. They had each, indeed, left considerable
fortunes behind them: and it was sought to exhume and burn their mortal
remains, and to declare the property--long in the enjoyment of their
heirs and successors--forfeited to the crown; and, in spite of a brief
of Innocent VIII., of the 25th of September, 1487, the attempt was made
by the Spanish Inquisitors. Both prelates sought refuge and protection
by personal recourse to Rome (1490). Bishop Davila, in spite of the
urgent remonstrances of Isabella herself, ultimately secured the
protection of Alexander VI. and was invested with additional dignities
and honors. Bishop Aranda was less fortunate. He was stripped of his
office and possessions, and died a prisoner in the castle of St. Angelo
in 1497.

It was not only living or dying heretics who paid the penalty of their
unsound opinions. Men long dead, if they were represented by rich
descendants, were cited before the Tribunal, judged, condemned, and the
lands and goods that had descended to their heirs passed into the
coffers of the Catholic kings. The scandal was so great that Isabella
actually wrote to the Bishop of Segovia to defend herself against an
accusation that no one had ever presumed to formulate. “I have,” said
the queen, “caused great calamities, I have depopulated towns and
provinces and kingdoms, for the love of Christ and of His Holy Mother,
but I have never touched a maravedi of confiscated property; and I have
employed the money in educating and dowering the children of the

This strange apology, which seems to have to some extent imposed upon
Prescott, is shown, by more recent examination of the State papers to be
a most deliberate and daring falsehood, and would go far to justify the
suggestion of Bergenroth that if Ferdinand never scrupled to tell direct
untruths and make false promises whenever he thought it expedient, Queen
Isabella excelled her husband in “disregard of veracity.”

If the Holy Office had existed in Aragon in an undeveloped state from
the thirteenth to the fifteenth century, and if it was actually
introduced into Castile at the suggestion of an Inquisitor of the
Aragonese island of Sicily, the old independence of the inhabitants once
more asserted itself when the time arrived for the introduction of the
brand-new Castilian Tribunal into the old kingdom that is watered by the
Ebro. Saragossa, indeed, may be nearer to Rome than Toledo; but the
Catalan has ever been less submissive than his brother or cousin in
Castile; less obedient to authority; more impatient of royal and
ecclesiastical oppression. Yet Aragon, which had defied Innocent at
Muret, and vanquished Martin at Gerona, was no match for the inquisitors
of Ferdinand the Catholic.

The Inquisition, as we have seen, had once before been established in
Aragon; but in one most important particular the new institution
differed from the old. In former days, even in the rare cases when the
heretic paid the penalty of his heterodoxy with his life, his property
passed to his heirs. The ecclesiastical tribunal of Ferdinand was not
only more efficient in the matter of burning or otherwise disposing of
accused persons; but the property of all doubtful Catholics, even of
those who were graciously permitted to live after their trial, was
absolutely forfeit to the crown. And the number of rich men, not only
converted Jews but prosperous Christians, whose orthodoxy failed to come
up to the new standard, was even in those days considered remarkable.

Ferdinand at all times hated popular assemblies. He spent the greater
part of his time in Castile; and he saw as little as possible of the
people of Aragon. But in April, 1484, he summoned a Cortes at Saragossa,
and decreed by royal ordinance the establishment of the new tribunal.
The old constitutional spirit of the Aragonese seems to have evaporated;
and a degenerate justiciary was found to swear to support the
jurisdiction of the Inquisitors. Yet envoys and delegates of the Commons
of Aragon were dispatched to Castile, whither Ferdinand had promptly
retired, and also to Rome, to remonstrate against the new Institution,
and more especially against the new provisions for the forfeiture of the
property of the convicted. If these provisions, contrary to the laws of
Aragon, were repealed or suspended, the deputies “were persuaded,” and
there was a grim humor in the suggestion, “that the Tribunal itself
would soon cease to exist.”

But the repression of heresy was far too profitable an undertaking to be
lightly abandoned; nor was Ferdinand of Aragon the man to abandon it;
and the envoys returned from an unsuccessful mission to Valladolid to
find a Quemadero already blazing at Saragossa.

Yet the Aragonese were not at once reduced to subjection. A popular
conspiracy led to the assassination of the Inquisitor-general, Pedro de
Arbues, in spite of his steel cap and coat of mail, as he stood one day
at matins in the Cathedral of Saragossa (15th September, 1457); but this
daring crime served only to enrage Ferdinand and to strengthen the power
of the Inquisition. A most rigorous and indefatigable inquiry, which was
extended from Saragossa into every part of Aragon, was at once
undertaken; and an immense number of victims, chosen not only from among
the people, but from almost every noble family in Aragon, if it did not
appease the vengeance of the Inquisitors, gratified at least the avarice
of Ferdinand. Among the accused, indeed, was Don Jayme of Navarre, a
nephew of the King of Aragon--a son of Eleanor, queen of Navarre, and
her husband, Gaston de Foix--who was actually arrested and imprisoned by
the Holy Office; and discharged only after having done public penance,
as convicted of having in some way sympathized with the assassination of
Arbues. But it may be noted that the young prince was anything but a
favorite with his uncle, to whom this bit of ecclesiastical discipline
was no doubt very gratifying.

But it was not only at Saragossa that opposition was offered to the
establishment of the new Tribunal. In every part of Aragon and of
Valencia; at Lerida, at Teruel, at Barcelona, the people rose against
this new exhibition of royal and priestly tyranny. And it was not for
fully two years, and after the adoption of the most savage measures of
repression both royal and ecclesiastical, that the Inquisition was
finally accepted in the kingdom of Aragon, and that Torquemada,
fortified by no less than two special Bulls, made his triumphal entry as
Inquisitor-general into Barcelona on the 27th of October, 1488.

Among all the tens of thousands of innocent persons who were tortured
and done to death by the Inquisition in Spain, it is instructive to turn
to the record of one man at least who broke through the meshes of the
ecclesiastical net that was spread abroad in the country; for the mode
of his escape is sufficiently instructive. Ready money at command, but
not exposed to seizure, was the sole shield and safeguard against the
assaults of Church and State. Don Alfonso de la Caballeria was a Jew by
race, and a man who was actually concerned in the murder of the
Inquisitor Arbues; but his great wealth enabled him to purchase not only
one but two Briefs from Rome, and to secure the further favor of
Ferdinand. He was accused and prosecuted in vain by the Holy Office of
Aragon. He not only escaped with his life, but he rose to a high
position in the State, and eventually mingled his Jewish and heretic
blood with that of royalty itself.

Various attempts were made by the Commons of Aragon to abate the powers
of the Inquisition; and at the Cortes of Monzon, in 1510, so vigorous a
remonstrance was addressed to Ferdinand that he was unable to do more
than avoid a decision by a postponement on the ground of desiring fuller
information; and two years later, at the same place, he was compelled to
sanction a declaration or ordinance, by which the authority assumed by
the Holy Office, in defiance of the Constitution of Aragon, was
specifically declared to be illegal; and the king swore to abolish the
privileges and jurisdiction of the Inquisition. Within a few months,
however, he caused himself to be absolved from this oath by a Papal
Brief; and the Inquisition remained unreformed and triumphant. But the
Aragonese had not yet entirely lost their independence, and a popular
rising compelled the king not only to renounce the Brief, so lately
received, but to solicit from the Pope a Bull (May 12, 1515),
exonerating him from so doing, and calling upon all men, lay and
ecclesiastical, to maintain the authority of the Cortes. Aragon was
satisfied. And the people enjoyed for a season the blessings of
comparative immunity from persecution.

To recall the manifold horrors of the actual working of the Inquisition
in Spain would be a painful and an odious task. To record them in any
detail is surely superfluous; even though they are entirely denied by
such eminent modern writers as Hefele, in Germany, or Menendez Pelayo,
in Spain. The hidden enemy, the secret denunciation, the sudden arrest,
the unknown dungeon, the prolonged interrogatory, the hideous torture,
the pitiless judge, the certain sentence, the cruel execution, the
public display of sacerdotal vengeance, the plunder of the survivors,
innocent even of ecclesiastical offense--all these things are known to
every reader of every history. All other considerations apart, it is an
abuse of language to speak of the proceedings before the Inquisition as
a trial, for the tribunal was nothing but a Board of Conviction. One
acquittal in two thousand accusations was, according to Llorente, who
had access to all the records of the Holy Office in Spain, about the
proportion that was observed in their judicial findings.

Statistics, as a rule, are not convincing, and figures are rarely
impressive; yet it may be added that, according to Llorente’s cautious
estimate, over ten thousand persons were burned alive during the
eighteen years of Torquemada’s supremacy alone; that over six thousand
more were burned in effigy either in their absence or after their death,
and their property acquired by the Holy Office; while the number of
those whose goods were confiscated, after undergoing less rigorous
punishments, is variously computed at somewhat more or somewhat less
than one hundred thousand. But it is obvious that even these terrible
figures give but a very feeble idea of the vast sum of human suffering
that followed the steps of this dreadful institution. For they tell no
tale of the thousands who died, and the tens of thousands who suffered,
in the torture chamber. They hardly suggest the anguish of the widow and
the orphan of the principal victims, who were left, bereaved and
plundered, to struggle with a hard and unsympathetic world, desolate,
poor, and disgraced.

Nor does the most exaggerated presentment of human suffering tell of the
disastrous effects of the entire system upon religion, upon morals, upon
civil society at large. The terrorism, the espionage, the daily and
hourly dread of denunciation, in which every honest man and woman must
have lived, the boundless opportunities for extortion and for the
gratification of private vengeance and worldly hatred, must have
poisoned the whole social life of Spain. The work of the Inquisition,
while it tended, no doubt, to make men orthodox, tended also to make
them false, and suspicious, and cruel. Before the middle of the
sixteenth century, the Holy Office had profoundly affected the national
character; and the Spaniard, who had been celebrated in Europe during
countless centuries for every manly virtue, became, in the new world
that had been given to him, no less notorious for a cruelty beyond the
imagination of a Roman emperor, and a rapacity beyond the dreams of a
republican proconsul.

Torquemada and Ferdinand may have burned their thousands and plundered
their ten thousands in Spain. Their disciples put to death millions of
the gentlest races of the earth, and ravaged without scruple or pity the
fairest and most fertile regions of the new Continent which had been
given to them to possess.

As long as the Inquisition confined its operations to the Jews and the
Moors, the Old Christians were injured and depraved by the development
of those tendencies to cruelty and rapacity that lie dormant in the
heart of every man. But this was not the end. For when Spain at length
sheltered no more aliens to be persecuted and plundered in the name of
religion, and murder and extortion were forced to seek their easy prey
in the new world beyond the Atlantic Ocean, the Holy Office turned its
attention to domestic heresy; and the character of the Spaniard in
Europe became still further demoralized and perverted. Every man was
suspected. Every man became suspicious. The lightest word might lead to
the heaviest accusation. The nation became somber and silent. Religious
life was but a step removed from heresy. Religion died. Original thought
was above all things dangerous. The Spaniard took refuge in Routine.
Social intercourse was obviously full of peril. A prudent man kept
himself to himself, and was glad to escape the observation of his
neighbors. Castile became a spiritual desert. The Castilian wrapped
himself in his cloak, and sought safety in dignified abstraction.

The Holy Office has done its work in Spain. A rapacious government, an
enslaved people, a hollow religion, a corrupt Church, a century of
blood, three centuries of shame, all these things followed in its wake.
And the country of Viriatus and Seneca, of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius,
where Ruy Diaz fought, and Alfonso studied, and where two warrior kings
in two successive centuries defied Rome temporal and Rome spiritual, and
all the crusaders of Europe--Spain, hardly conquered by Scipio or by
Cæsar, was enslaved by the dead hand of Dominic.




The fall of Granada left the Catholic sovereigns free to turn their
attention more completely to the domestic affairs of the kingdom; and it
seems moreover to have increased the bigotry both of the Church and of
the Court, and to have added new zeal to the fury of the Inquisition.

The conquest of the Moorish kingdom was said by pious ecclesiastics to
be a special sign or manifestation of the approval by Heaven of the
recent institution of the Holy Office. The knights and nobles, proud of
their military successes, may have attributed the victory to causes more
flattering to their valor, their skill, and their perseverance. The
common people, as yet not demoralized, but gorged with plunder, and
invited to occupy without purchase the fairest province in the
Peninsula, were little disposed to quarrel with the policy of Ferdinand;
and far from feeling any pity for the sufferings of the vanquished
Moors, they sighed for new infidels to pillage. And new infidels were
promptly found.

The Inquisition so far had troubled itself but little with Christian
heretics. The early Spanish Protestantism of the thirteenth century had
died away. The later Spanish Protestantism of the sixteenth century had
not yet come into existence. Few men had done more than Averroes of
Cordova and Ramon Lull of Palma to awaken religious thought in Medieval
Europe; yet speculative theology has never been popular among the
Spanish people. It was against the Jews, renegade or relapsed, even more
than the avowedly unconverted, that the Holy Office directed all its
exertions until the end of the fifteenth century. By April, 1492,
although a great number of the unfortunate Hebrews had already found
their way to the Quemadero, there was still a very large Jewish
population in Spain, the most industrious, the most intelligent, the
most orderly, but, unhappily for themselves, the most wealthy of all the
inhabitants of the Peninsula.

The Spanish Jews, as we have seen, were treated on the arrival of the
Arab conquerors not only with consideration, but with an amount of favor
that was not extended to them under any other government in the world;
nor was this wise liberality, as time went on, displayed only by the
Moslem in Spain. At the Christian courts of Leon, of Castile, and of
Catalonia, the Jews were welcomed as lenders of money and as healers of
diseases, and as men skilled in many industrial arts; and they supplied
what little science was required in northern Spain, while their brethren
shared in the magnificent culture and extended studies of Cordova. When
the rule of the Arab declined, and Alfonso el Sabio held his court at
southern Seville, the learned Jews were his chosen companions. They
certainly assisted him in the preparation of his great astronomical
tables. They probably assisted him in his translation of the Bible.

Nor does this court favor appear to have caused any serious jealousy
among Christian Spaniards. The fellow-student of Alfonso X., the trusted
treasurer of Peter the Cruel, the accommodating banker of many a king
and many a noble--the Jew was for some time a personage of importance
rather than a refugee in the Peninsula. And during the whole of the
thirteenth century, while the Jews were exposed throughout western
Europe to the most dreadful and systematic persecutions, they enjoyed in
Spain not only immunity, but protection, not only religious freedom, but
political consideration.

Under Alfonso XI. they were particularly regarded, and even under Peter
the Cruel, who, though he tortured and robbed his Hebrew treasurer, did
not at any time display his natural ferocity in any form of religious
persecution. Yet, as we are told that his rival and successor, Henry of
Trastamara, sought popular favor by molesting the Jews, it would seem
that already by the end of the fourteenth century they were becoming
unpopular in Castile. But on the whole, throughout the Peninsula, from
the time of James I. of Aragon, who is said to have studied ethics under
a Jewish professor, to the time of John II. of Castile, who employed a
Jewish secretary in the compilation of a national “Cancionero,” or
ballad book, the Jews were not only distinguished, but encouraged, in
literature and abstract science, as they had always been in the more
practical pursuits of medicine and of commerce.

But in less than a century after the death of Alfonso X. the tide of
fortune had turned. Their riches increased overmuch in a disturbed and
impoverished commonwealth, and public indignation began to be displayed,
rather at their un-Christian opulence than at their Jewish faith.
Inquisition was made rather into their strongboxes than into their
theology; and it was their debtors and their rivals, rather than any
religious purists, who, toward the end of the fourteenth century, and
more especially in Aragon, stirred up those popular risings against
their race that led to the massacres and the wholesale conversions of
1391. The first attack that was made upon the persons and property of
the Jews was in 1388, and it was no doubt provoked by the preaching of
the fanatic archdeacon Hernando Martinez at Seville. But it was in
nowise religious in its character, and was aimed chiefly at the
acquisition and destruction of the property of the rich and prosperous
Hebrews. The outbreaks which took place almost simultaneously in all
parts of Spain were disapproved both by kings and councils. Special
judges were sent to the disturbed cities, and a considerable amount of
real protection was extended to the plundered people. No one said a word
about conversion; or at least the conversion was that of ancient Pistol,
the conversion of the property of the Jews into the possession of the
Christians. When the Jewish quarter of Barcelona was sacked by the
populace, and an immense number of Hebrews were despoiled and massacred
throughout the country, John of Aragon, indolent though he was, used his
utmost endeavors to check the slaughter. He punished the aggressors, and
he even caused a restitution of goods to be made to such of the victims
as survived.

The preaching of St. Vincent Ferrer, during the early part of the
fifteenth century, was addressed largely to the Jews in Spain, but
little or no religious persecution seems to have been directed against
them in consequence of his harangues. On the contrary, we read of
friendly conferences or public disputations between Jewish and Christian
doctors in Aragon, where the Inquisition was, at least, nominally
established. Such conferences could hardly be expected to convince or
convert the advocates of either faith, but they tell at least of an
amount of toleration on the part of the Christian authorities of the day
that was certainly not to be found in Spain at the close of the century;
and there is no doubt that they were followed by a very large number of
conversions of the more malleable members of the Hebrew community. But
it is a far cry from St. Vincent Ferrer to the uncanonized Tomas de

Yet, even in outward conformity to the established religion, the Jews,
as time went on, found no permanent safety from persecution and plunder.
John II. indeed had little of the bigot in his composition; it was
Politics and not Persecution that, under his successor, engrossed the
attention of clergy and laity in Castile; but, as soon as the power of
Isabella was formally established, the destruction of all that was not
orthodox, Catholic, and Spanish became the keynote of the domestic
policy of the new government of Spain.

The earliest efforts of the Spanish Inquisition were directed, as we
have seen, almost exclusively against those converted Jews, or the sons
and daughters of converts, who were known by the expressive name of New
Christians, a title applied also to Christianized Moslems, and which
distinguished both classes from the Old Christians or Cristianos Viejos,
who could boast of a pure Castilian ancestry. These New Christians, as a
whole, at the end of the fifteenth century, were among the richest, the
most industrious, and the most intelligent of the population, and they
were regarded with considerable envy by their poorer neighbors, whose
blue blood did not always bring with it either wealth or fortune. The
Rules and Regulations for the guidance of the Inquisitors were therefore
specially framed to include every possible act or thought that might
bring the members of the classes specially aimed at within the deadly
category of the Relapsed. If the “New Christian” wore a clean shirt, or
spread clean table-linen on a Saturday (Art. 4), if he ate meat in Lent
(7), observed any of the Jewish fasts (8-17), or sat at table with any
Jew of his acquaintance (19); if he recited one of the Psalms of David
without the addition of the Doxology (20), if he caused his child to be
baptized under a Hebrew name (23), he was to be treated as a renegade
and condemned to the flames.

With every act of his life thus at the mercy of spies and informers, his
last end was not unobserved by the Dominicans and the Familiars of the
Holy Office. If in the article of death he turned his weary face (31) to
the wall of his chamber, he was adjudged relapsed, and all his
possessions were forfeit; or if the sorrowing children of even the most
unexceptionable convert had washed his dead body with warm water (32)
they were to be treated as apostates and heretics, and were at least
liable to suffer death by fire, after their goods had been appropriated
by the Holy Office or by the Crown.

In the sentences which condemned to the stake, to confiscation, and to
penances which were punishments of the severest description, we find
enumerated such offenses as the avoiding the use of fat, and especially
of lard; preparing amive, a kind of broth much appreciated by the Jews;
or eating “Passover bread”; reading, or even possessing, a Hebrew Bible;
ignorance of the Pater noster and the Creed; saying that a good Jew
could be saved, and a thousand other equally harmless deeds or words.

But with the professed and avowed Jew, unpopular as he may have been
with his neighbors, and exposed at times to various forms of civil and
religious outrage, the Holy Office did not directly concern itself. The
Hebrew, like the Moslem, was outside the pale even of Christian inquiry.

There is no doubt that it was the success of the operations against the
Moors of Granada that suggested to Ferdinand and Isabella the
undertaking of a campaign, easier by far, and scarcely less lucrative,
against the unhappy descendants of Abraham who had made their home in

The annual revenue that was derived by the Catholic sovereigns from the
confiscations of the Inquisition amounted to a considerable income; and
the source as yet showed no signs of drying up. Yet cupidity, marching
hand in hand with intolerance--the Devil, as the Spanish proverb has it,
ever lurking behind the Cross--the sovereigns resolved upon the
perpetration of an act of State more dreadful than the most
comprehensive of the Autos da Fe.

The work of the Holy Office was too slow. The limits of the Quemadero
were too small. Half a million Jews yet lived unbaptized in Spain. They
should be destroyed at a single blow. The Inquisition might be left to
reckon with the New Christians whose conversion was unsatisfactory.

As soon as the Spanish Jews obtained an intimation of what was
contemplated against them, they took steps to propitiate the sovereigns
by the tender of a donative of thirty thousand ducats, toward defraying
the expenses of the Moorish war; and an influential Jewish leader is
said to have waited upon Ferdinand and Isabella, in their quarters at
Santa Fe, to urge the acceptance of the bribe. The negotiations,
however, were suddenly interrupted by Torquemada, who burst into the
apartment where the sovereigns were giving audience to the Jewish
deputy, and drawing forth a crucifix from beneath his mantle, held it
up, exclaiming, “Judas Iscariot sold his master for thirty pieces of
silver; Your Highnesses would sell him anew for thirty thousand; here he
is, take him and barter him away.” The extravagant presumption of the
Inquisitor-general would not perhaps have been as successful as it was
had it not been obvious to the rapacious Ferdinand that thirty thousand
ducats was a trifle compared with the plunder of the entire body of Jews
in Spain. Yet the action of Torquemada was no doubt calculated to affect
the superstitious mind of Isabella, and even the colder spirit of

Whatever may have been the scruples of the Spanish sovereigns, the
fanaticism of the Spanish people had been at this critical juncture
stirred up to an unusual pitch of fury by the proceedings and reports of
the Holy Office in a case which has attracted an amount of attention so
entirely disproportionate to its apparent importance that it merits
something more than a passing notice.

In June, 1490, a converted Jew of the name of Benito Garcia, on his way
back from a pilgrimage to Compostella, was waylaid and robbed near
Astorga, by some of the Christian inhabitants. A Jew, converted or
otherwise, was a legitimate object of plunder. The contents of his
knapsack not being entirely satisfactory, and the ecclesiastical
authorities sniffing sacrilege in what was supposed to be a piece of the
consecrated wafer, Garcia, and not the robbers, was arrested, subjected
to incredible tortures, and finally handed over to the local

His case was heard with that of other Conversos; first at Segovia and
afterward at Avila. Tortures were repeated. Spies were introduced in
various guises and disguises, but no confession could be extorted.

At length, after a year and a half of such practices, the endurance of
one of the accused gave way--the dreadful story affords some slight
notion of the methods of the Inquisition--and the unhappy man invented a
tale in accordance with what was demanded of him; the crucifixion of a
Christian child; the tearing out of his heart, the theft of the Host
from a Christian Church, and a magical incantation over the dreadful
elements, directed against Christianity, and more particularly against
the Holy Office. The Tribunal having been thus satisfied of the guilt
of the accused, a solemn Auto da Fe was held at Avila, on the 16th of
November, 1491, when two of the convicts were torn to death with red-hot
pincers; three who had been more mercifully permitted to die under the
preliminary tortures were burned in effigy; while the remaining
prisoners were visited only with the slight punishment of strangulation
before their consignment to the inevitable fire. That no boy, with or
without a heart, could be found or invented, by the most rigorous
examination; that no Christian child had disappeared from the
neighborhood of the unhappy Jews at the time of their arrest--this
surprised no one. In matters of Faith such evidences were wholly
superfluous. Secura judícat Ecclesia.

That these poor Hebrews should have suffered torture and death for an
imaginary sacrilege upon the person of an imaginary boy was indeed a
thing by no means unexampled in the history of religious fanaticism. But
the sequel is certainly extraordinary. With a view of exciting the
indignation of the sovereigns and of the people against the Jews at an
important moment, Torquemada devoted much attention to the publication
throughout Spain of the dreadful story of the murdered boy, the Niño of
La Guardia, the village where the crime is supposed to have taken place.
As to the name of the victim, the authorities did not agree. Some
maintained that it was Christopher, while others declared for John. But
the recital of the awful wickedness of the Jews lost none of its force
by adverse criticism. The legend spread from altar to altar throughout
the country. The Niño de la Guardia at once became a popular hero, in
course of time a popular saint; miracles were freely worked upon the
spot where his remains had not been found, and something over a century
later (1613) his canonization was demanded at Rome.

His remains, it was asserted by Francisco de Quevedo, could not be found
on earth, only because his body as well as his soul had been
miraculously carried up to heaven, where it was the most powerful
advocate and protector of the Spanish monarchy. The story, moreover, has
been twice dramatized--once by Lope de Vega--and no less than three
admiring biographies of this imaginary martyr have been published in
Spain within the last forty years of this nineteenth century.

At length from conquered Granada, on the 30th of March, 1492, the
dreadful edict went forth. By the 30th of July not a Jew was to be left
alive in Spain. Sisenand, indeed, nine hundred years before, had
promulgated such an edict. But the Visigoth had been too tender-hearted
to enforce it. Isabella, whose gentleness and goodness historians are
never tired of applauding, was influenced by no such considerations, and
the sentence was carried out to the letter. With a cruel irony, the
banished people were permitted to sell their property, yet forbidden to
carry the money out of the kingdom, a provision which has obtained the
warm approval of more than one modern Spanish historian, by whom it is
accepted as a conclusive proof that this wholesale depopulation did not
and could not diminish the wealth of Spain!

Thus two hundred thousand Spaniards, men, women, and children of tender
years, rich and poor, men of refinement and of position, ladies reared
in luxury, the aged, the sick, the infirm, all were included in one
common destruction, and were driven, stripped of everything, from their
peaceful homes, to die on their way to some less savage country. For the
sentence was carried out with the most relentless ferocity. Every road
to the coast, we read, was thronged with the unhappy fugitives,
struggling to carry off some shred of their ruined homes. To succor them
was death; to pillage them was piety. At every seaport, rapacious
shipmasters exacted from the defenseless travelers the greater part of
their remaining possessions, as the price of a passage to some
neighboring coast; and in many cases the passenger was tossed overboard
ere the voyage was completed, and his goods confiscated to the crew. A
rumor having got abroad that the fugitives were in the habit of
swallowing jewels and gold pieces in order to evade the royal decree,
thousands of unhappy beings were ripped up by the greedy knife of the
enemy, on land or sea, on the chance of discovering in their mutilated
remains some little store of treasure.

And thus, north, south, east, and west, the Jews straggled and struggled
over Spain; and undeterred by the manifold terrors of the sea, a vast
multitude of exiles, whose homes in Spain once lay in sunny Andalusia,
sought and found an uncertain abiding place in neighboring Africa.

Of all Christian countries, it was in neighboring Portugal that the
greatest number of the exiles found refuge and shelter; until, after
five brief years of peace and comparative prosperity, the heavy hand of
Castilian intolerance once more descended upon them, and they were
driven out of the country, at the bidding of Isabella and her too
dutiful daughter, the hope of Portugal and of Castile.

But to every country in Europe the footsteps of some of the sufferers
were directed. Not a few were permitted to abide in Italy and Southern
France; some of the most distinguished found a haven in England; many
were fortunate enough to reach the Ottoman dominions, where, under the
tolerant government of the Turk, they lived and prospered, and where
their descendants, at many of the more important seaports of the Levant,
are still found to speak the Castilian of their forefathers.

That the edict of banishment was meant to be, as it so constantly was, a
doom of death, and not merely a removal of heretics, is clear from the
action of the Spanish sovereigns, who, at the instigation of Torquemada,
procured from the pliant Innocent VIII. a Bull enjoining the authorities
of every country in Christian Europe to arrest and send back to Spain
all _fugitive_ Jews under penalty of the Greater Excommunication.

More than once, indeed, the demand for extradition was made. But save in
the case of the Portuguese Jews, on the second marriage of the Princess
Isabella to the reigning sovereign of that country, no foreign prince
appears to have paid any heed to this savage edict. Nor was it, as a
rule, of any material advantage, either at Rome or at Seville, that it
should be put in force.

Avarice was perhaps the besetting sin of Rome in the fifteenth century;
nor was bigotry unknown throughout Western Europe. But in Spain, as the
century drew to a close, avarice and bigotry joined hand in hand, and
flourished under royal and noble patronage, preached by religion,
practiced by policy, and applauded by patriotism. It was not strange
that, under such teaching, the people of Castile should have rapidly
become demoralized, and that the great race should have begun to develop
that sordid and self-satisfied savagery which disgraced the name of the
Spaniard, in the heartless and short-sighted plunder of the new world
that lay before him.

Yet in all human affairs there is something that too often escapes our
observation, to explain, if not to excuse, what may seem the most
dreadful aberrations of the better nature of man. And it may be that the
uncompromising religious spirit, which has had so enormous an influence
for evil and for good upon the Spanish people, is to some extent the
result of their Semitic environment of eight hundred years.

Religious controversy indeed, between rival branches of the Christian
Church in the days of the Visigoths, developed religious animosities
before the first Moslem landed at Tarifa; yet the Arab and the Moor,
fired with the enthusiasm of a new and living faith, brought into their
daily life in Spain, in peace and in war, a deep and all-pervading
religious spirit--an active recognition of the constant presence of one
true God--unknown to the Roman or the Visigoth, which must have had an
enormous influence upon the grave and serious Spaniards who lived under
the rule of the Arab.

Nor was the Moslem the only factor in this medieval development. In no
other country in Europe was the Jew, as we have seen, more largely
represented, and more powerful, for the first fifteen centuries of our
era, than in Spain, whether under Christian or Moslem masters. But the
direct and simple monotheism of the Hebrew and the Arab, while it had so
great a direct influence upon Spanish Christianity, provoked as part of
the natural antagonism to the methods of the rival and the enemy, the
counter development of an excessive Hagiolatry, Mariolatry, and

It would be strange enough if the religious fervor which doomed to death
and torment so many tens of thousands of Semites in Spain should be
itself of Semitic suggestion. It is hardly less strange that the Greek
Renaissance, which revolutionized the Christian world, and whose
anti-Semitic influence to the present day is nowhere more marked than in
every department of religious thought, should by the irony of fate have
been forestalled by a writer, at once Spanish and Semitic; and when, by
the sixteenth century, the rest of modern Europe had been led by the
teaching of Averroes to accept the philosophy of Aristotle, Spain, the
earliest home of Hellenism, new born in Europe, had already turned again
to a religious Philistinism or Phariseeism of the hardest and most
uncompromising type, Semitic in its thoroughness, Greek only in its
elaborate accessories, and Spanish in its uncompromising rigor.

Thus it was that the Arab and the Jew, parents, in some sense, of the
religious spirit of Ximenez and of Torquemada, became themselves the
objects of persecution more bitter than is to be found in the annals of
any other European nation. The rigors of the Spanish Inquisition, and
the policy that inspired and justified it, are not to be fully explained
by the rapacity of Ferdinand, the bigotry of Isabella, the ambition of
Ximenez, or the cruelty of Torquemada. They were in a manner the
rebellion or outbreak of the old Semitic spirit against the Semite,
the ignorant jealousy of the wayward disciple against the master
whose teaching has been but imperfectly and unintelligently
assimilated--perverted, distorted, and depraved by the human or devilish
element which is to be found in all religions, and which seems ever
striving to destroy the better, and to develop the worser part of the
spiritual nature of man.

We now enter upon a period of European history which is but feebly
characterized by the term interesting, and which has been too accurately
chronicled and too severely investigated to be called romantic; when a
well-founded jealousy, or fear of the growing power of France, alone
supplies the key to the ever-changing foreign policy of the sovereigns
of Spain. Genuine State papers of the fifteenth century are by no means
numerous. In such of them, however, as are still extant, we find the
fear expressed over and over again that the kings of France would render
themselves “masters of the world,” would “establish a universal empire,”
or “subject the whole of Christendom to their dictation.” The best means
to avert such a danger appeared to contemporary statesmen to be the
foundation of another European State as a counterpoise. Ferdinand the
Catholic, ambitious, diplomatic, and capable, was the first prince who
undertook the enterprise.

Within less than three years after the Inquisition had been established
at Seville, Louis XI. of France, the old rival and colleague of John II.
of Aragon, had died in Paris, August 30, 1483. He was succeeded by his
son Charles VIII., a young prince whose ignorance was only equaled by
his vanity, and was if possible exceeded by his presumption. With such
an antagonist, Ferdinand of Aragon was well fitted to deal, with
advantage to himself and to Spain. To win over the Duchess of Bourbon,
who had virtually succeeded to the government of France on the death of
Louis XI., and to marry his eldest daughter Isabella to the young King
Charles VIII., were accordingly the first objects of his negotiations.
But in spite of all the flattery lavished on the duchess, Ferdinand did
not succeed in obtaining the crown for the Infanta. A more richly
dowered bride was destined for the King of France, to whom the
acquisition of the province of Brittany was of far greater importance
than the doubtful friendship of Spain; and after much public and private
negotiation, the Spanish embassador was reluctantly withdrawn from Paris
in the summer of 1487 (29th of July).

Disappointed in his dealing with the court of France, the ever-watchful
and persistent Ferdinand turned his eyes to England; and in the last
days of the year 1487 an embassador from the Spanish sovereigns,
Roderigo de Puebla, doctor of canon and civil law, arrived at the court
of London. Henry VII., who greatly desired to establish a closer
alliance with Spain, succeeded in flattering the new envoy, and
rendering him almost from the first subservient to his personal
interests. Yet the King of England and the Spanish embassador together
were no match for Ferdinand of Aragon. The negotiations between the
sovereigns were prolonged for two years, and in the end Henry was
worsted at every point. He had signed a treaty of offensive alliance
with Spain against France, with which power he wisely desired to
maintain friendly relations, and he had been prevailed upon to send some
English troops into Brittany to co-operate with a Spanish contingent
which never arrived, in the expulsion of the French from that country.
He had concluded further treaties of friendship and alliance with the
King of the Romans, who was actually encouraging Perkin Warbeck to
assert his claim to the crown of England, and with the Archduke Philip,
whom he personally and independently hated. And he had been forced to
content himself with the promise of a very modest dowry with the Spanish
princess who was affianced to his son Arthur, Prince of Wales.

Relatively too, as well as positively, he had been falsely borne in
hand. Maximilian, who had been no less ready than Henry with his
promises to Ferdinand, did not send a single soldier into Brittany, but
endeavored to overreach Henry, Charles, and Ferdinand by a hasty
marriage--by proxy--with the young duchess, without the consent or
knowledge of either England or Spain. Yet this diplomatic victory over
the very astute Englishman did not satisfy Ferdinand and Isabella, who,
fearful lest they should “become the victims of their honesty” if they
permitted Maximilian to surpass them in political perfidy, immediately
renewed secret negotiations with France, and declared themselves ready
to abandon the king, the duchess, and the emperor. Charles, they
promised, should obtain what he wished, without risking the life of a
single soldier, if only he would marry a Spanish Infanta. And they
offered him, not Isabella, their eldest born, but their second daughter,

Charles, however, had other views, and finding no cohesion or certainty
in Ferdinand’s league against him, strengthened his cause and his
kingdom by marrying the Duchess Anne of Brittany himself, and uniting
her hereditary dominions forever to the crown of France, a fair stroke
of policy for a foolish sovereign in the midst of crafty and
unscrupulous adversaries. (December 13, 1491.)

Ferdinand replied by calling on Henry VII. to fulfill his engagements
and invade France. Henry accordingly, on the 1st of October, 1492,
landed an army at Calais, and marched on Boulogne; while Ferdinand,
without striking a blow either for Spain or for England, took advantage
of the English expedition to extort from the fears and folly of Charles
VIII. the favorable conditions of peace and alliance that were embodied
in the celebrated Convention which was signed at Barcelona on the 19th
of January, 1493. By this instrument it was provided that each of the
high contracting parties should mutually aid each other against all
enemies, the Vicar of Christ alone excepted, that the Spanish sovereigns
should not enter into an alliance with any other power, to the prejudice
of the interests of France, and finally, that the coveted provinces of
Roussillon and Cerdagne, whose recovery had long been one of the chief
objects of Ferdinand’s ambition, should be immediately handed over to

The services of England being no longer needed by the peninsular
sovereigns, Ferdinand abruptly broke off all further negotiations with
Henry VII.; the signatures of Ferdinand and Isabella to the treaty which
had already been ratified were disposed of by the simple but effective
expedient of cutting them out of the parchment with a pair of scissors;
and the contract of marriage between Arthur, Prince of Wales, and the
Infanta Catharine--having served its immediate diplomatic purpose--was
removed, for the time being,[7] from the sphere of practical politics.

It is sufficiently characteristic of both parties, that in the treaty of
Barcelona, between Charles and Ferdinand, Naples, the true objective of
the young king of France, was not even mentioned. Ferdinand, well
content with the immediate advantages obtained by the treaty, was by no
means imposed upon by such vain reticence, while Charles, pluming
himself upon the success of his diplomacy in his treaties with England,
with Spain, and with the empire, looked forward to establishing himself
without opposition on the throne of Naples, on his way to assume the
Imperial purple at Constantinople.

The kingdom of Naples, on the death of Alfonso the Magnanimous of
Aragon, had passed, we have already seen, to his illegitimate son
Ferdinand, who proved to be a tyrant of the worst Italian type,
worthless, contemptible and uninteresting. To expel this hated monarch,
for whom not one of his Neapolitan subjects would have been found to
strike a blow in anger, seemed but a chivalrous and agreeable pastime to
the vain and ignorant youth who had succeeded Louis XI. upon the throne
of France. His more experienced neighbors indeed smiled with some
satisfaction at his presumption. Yet, strange to say, the judgment of
the vain and ignorant youth was just; and the wise men, who ridiculed
his statesmanship, and scoffed at his military ineptitude, were doomed
to great and astounding disappointment.

Before the French preparations for the invasion of Italy were fairly
completed, in the early spring of 1494, Ferdinand of Naples died, and
was succeeded by his son Alfonso I., the cousin-german of Ferdinand of
Aragon. This change of rulers altered in no way the wild schemes of
Charles of France, nor, although the new king of Naples was far less
odious than his father had been in his own dominions, did it make any
important change in the condition of Italian politics. By the month of
June, 1494, the French preparations were so far advanced that Charles
judged it opportune to acquaint his Spanish allies with his designs on
Naples, and to solicit their active co-operation in his undertaking.

That Ferdinand should, under any possible circumstances, have been found
to spend the blood and treasure of Spain in assisting any neighbor,
stranger, or ally, in any enterprise, without direct advantage to
himself, was a supposition entirely extravagant. But that he should
assist a feather-headed Frenchman to dispossess a son of Aragon of a
kingdom from which his own ancestors had thrice driven a French
pretender, and where, if any change were to be made in the sovereignty,
his own rights of succession were far superior to the shadowy claims
derived from the hated Angevins: this was a thing so grotesquely
preposterous that it is hard to suppose that even Charles of France
should have regarded it as being within the bounds of possibility.
Ferdinand contented himself for the moment with expressions of
astonishment and offers of good advice, while Charles pushed forward his
preparations for the invasion of Italy. Don Alfonso de Silva, dispatched
by the court of Spain as a special envoy, came up with the French army
at Vienne, on the Rhone, toward the end of June, 1494. But he was
instructed rather to seek, than to convey, intelligence of any sort; nor
was it to be supposed that his grave remonstrances or his diplomatic
warnings should have had much effect upon the movements of an army that
was already on the march.

In August, 1494, thirty thousand men, hastily equipped, yet well
provided with the new and dreadful weapon that was then first spoken of
as a cannon, crossed the Alps, and prepared to fight their way to
Naples. But no enemy appeared to oppose their progress. The various
States of Italy, jealous of one another, if not actually at war, were
unable or unwilling to combine against the invader; the roads were
undefended; the troops fled; the citizens of the isolated cities opened
their gates, one after the other, at the approach of the strange and
foreign invader. The French army, in fine, after a leisurely promenade
militaire through the heart of Italy, marched unopposed into Rome on the
last day of the year 1494.

Ferdinand and Isabella had, in the first instance, offered no serious
opposition to the French enterprise, which appeared to them to be
completely impracticable; and they had awaited with diplomatic
equanimity the apparently inevitable disaster, which, without the loss
of a single Spanish soldier or the expenditure of a single maravedi,
would at once have served all the purposes of Ferdinand, and permitted
him to maintain his reputation for goodwill toward Charles, which might
have been useful in future negotiations. The astonishing success of the
French invasion took the Spanish sovereigns completely by surprise, and
it became necessary for Ferdinand to adopt, without haste, but with
prudent promptitude, a new policy at once toward France and toward the
various parties in Italy.

The boldest and the most capable of all the sovereigns of Italy, in
these trying times, was the Spanish Pontiff, who by a singular fate has
been made, as it were, the whipping boy for the wickedness of nineteen
centuries of popes at Rome, and who is known to every schoolboy and
every scribbler as the infamous Alexander VI. Roderic Lenzuoli, or
Llançol, was the son of a wealthy Valencian gentleman, by Juana, a
sister of the more distinguished Alfonso Borja, bishop of his native
city of Valencia.

Born at Valencia about 1431, Roderic gave evidence from his earliest
years of a remarkable strength of character, and of uncommon
intellectual powers. While still a youth, he won fame and fortune as an
advocate. But his impatient nature chafed at the moderate restraint of a
lawyer’s gown; and he was on the point of adopting a military career,
when the election of his uncle to the Supreme Pontificate as Calixtus
III. in 1455 opened for him the way to a more glorious future. At the
instance of the new Pope, Roderic adopted his mother’s name, in the
Italian form already so well known and distinguished at the court of
Rome, and taking with him his beautiful mistress, Rosa Vanozza, whose
mother he had formerly seduced, he turned his back upon his native
Valencia, and sought the fortune that awaited him at the capital of the

Unusually handsome in person, vigorous in mind and body, masterful,
clever, eloquent, unscrupulous, absolutely regardless of all laws, human
or divine, in the gratification of his passions and the accomplishment
of his designs, Roderic, the Pope’s nephew, was a man made for success
in the society in which he was to find himself at Rome. On his arrival
at the Papal court in 1456 he was received with great kindness by his
uncle, and was soon created Archbishop of Valencia, Cardinal of St.
Nicholas _in Carcere Tulliano_, and Vice-Chancellor of the Holy Roman
Church. On the death of Calixtus in 1458, the Cardinal Roderic Borgia
sank into comparative insignificance; and during the reigns of Pius II.,
Paul II., Sixtus IV. and Innocent VIII. we hear little of him but that
he was distinguished for his amours, for his liberality in the disposal
of his fortune, and for his attention to public business. Having thus
secured the goodwill of many of the cardinals and the affection of the
Roman people, he had no difficulty, on the death of Innocent VIII. in
July, 1492, in making a bargain with a majority of the members of the
Sacred College, in accordance with which he was elected Pope, and took
the title of Alexander VI. on the 26th of August, 1492.

His election was received by the Roman people with the utmost
satisfaction, and celebrated with all possible demonstrations of joy.
His transcendent abilities and his reckless methods could not fail to
render him obnoxious to his companions and his rivals in Italy; but it
is due rather to his foreign origin, his Valencian independence of
character, and above all his insolent avoidance of hypocrisy in the
affairs of his private life, that he has been made a kind of
ecclesiastical and Papal scapegoat, a Churchman upon whose enormous
vices Protestant controversialists are never tired of dilating, and
whose private wickedness is ingenuously admitted by Catholic apologists
as valuable for the purposes of casuistic illustration, as the one
instance of a divinely infallible judge whose human nature yet remained
mysteriously impure, and whose personal or individual actions may be
admitted to have been objectively blamable.

To measure the relative depths of human infamy is an impossible as well
as an ungrateful task. It is not given to mortals to know the secrets of
the heart. But bad as Alexander undoubtedly was, he was possibly no
worse than many of his contemporaries in the Consistory, less wicked
than some of his predecessors at the Vatican. The guilt of greater and
more vigorous natures passes for superlative infamy with the crowd; but
when dispassionately compared with that of his immediate predecessors,
Sixtus IV. and Innocent VIII., the character of Alexander VI. is in
almost every respect less flagitious and more admirable.

So unblushing was the venality of the Holy See in the fourteenth century
that sacred dialecticians and jurists of high authority were found
seriously to argue that the Pope was not subjectively capable of
committing the offense of Simony. It might have been contended with
equal justice that in every other respect he was at once above, or
without, the scope of the entire moral law. Nor can it be said that the
fifteenth century brought any serious amendment.

From the death of Benedict XI., in 1303, to the death of Alexander VI.,
in 1503, the night was dark before the inevitable dawn; and in every
phase of human depravity, in every development of human turpitude, in
arrogance, in venality, in cruelty, in licentiousness, medieval Popes
may be found pre-eminent among contemporary potentates. Thus, if the
wickedness of Alexander was extravagant, it was by no means
unparalleled, even among the Popes of a single century. His cruelty was
no greater than that of Urban VI., or of Clement VII., or of John XXII.
His immorality was, at least, more human than that of Paul II. and of
Sixtus IV., nor were his amours more scandalous than those of Innocent
VIII. His sacrilege was less dreadful than that of Sixtus IV. His
covetousness could hardly have exceeded that of Boniface IX.; his
arrogance was less offensive than that of Boniface VIII. If he was
unduly subservient to Ferdinand and Isabella in his toleration of the
enormities of Torquemada, his necessities as an Italian sovereign
rendered the Spanish alliance a matter of capital importance. As a civil
potentate and as a politician, he was not only wiser, but far less
corrupt than Sforza, less rapacious than Ferdinand, more constant than
Maximilian of Germany, less reckless than Charles of France. His
administrative ability, his financial enlightenment, his energy as
regards public works, were no less remarkable than his personal
liberality, his affability, and his courage. His division of the New
World by a stroke of the pen was an assumption of imperial power which
was at least justified by the magnitude of its success. As he sat in his
palace on the Mons Vaticanus, he was the successor, not of Caligula, but
of Tiberius--not of Commodus, but of Diocletian.

Of the misfortunes of his eldest son, created by Ferdinand Duke of
Gandia; of the wickedness of his second son, the fifteenth century
Cæsar, who succeeded his father as Cardinal Archbishop of Valencia; of
the profligacy of his daughter, so unhappily named Lucretia; of the
marriage of his youngest son Geoffrey to a daughter of Alfonso of
Naples, as a part of the treaty of alliance between the kingdom of the
Two Sicilies and the States of the Church, in 1494; of the alliance
between Alexander and Bajazet, and the poisoning of the Sultan’s
brother, Zem, after thirteen years’ captivity, on receipt of an
appropriate fee; of the elevation of a facile envoy to the full rank of
Cardinal, to please the Grand Turk; of all these things nothing need be
said in this place.

We are more immediately concerned to know that on New Year’s Day, 1495,
Pope Alexander VI., a refugee, if not actually a prisoner, in the Castle
of St. Angelo, was fain to accept the terms that were imposed upon him
by the victorious Frenchmen--masters for the nonce of Italy and of Rome.

As Charles VIII. was marching through Italy, and was approaching, all
unopposed, the sacred city of Rome, Alexander VI., anxious at all
hazards to obtain the assistance of his countrymen in the hour of
danger, had sent an envoy to the Spanish court representing the critical
state of affairs in Italy, assuring the king and queen of his constant
goodwill, in spite of certain disputes as to the Papal authority in
Spain, and conveying to them, with other less substantial favors, the
grant of the Tercias, or two-ninths of the tithes throughout all the
dominions of Castile, an impost which, until the middle of the present
century, formed a part of the revenues of the Spanish monarchy. He also
conceded to the Spanish crown the right of dominion over the whole of
northern Africa, except Fez, which had been given to the King of

A projected marriage between the Duke of Calabria, eldest son of the
King of Naples, and the Infanta Maria, daughter of Ferdinand and
Isabella, served to give the King of Spain an opportunity for
negotiating with the Neapolitan court; and Ferdinand at the same time
dispatched the celebrated Garcilaso de la Vega as his embassador, with
instructions to return the most comforting assurances to the Pope at
Rome. Yet he refrained from making any definite promises, or from
committing himself to any definite policy. He was not a man to do
anything rashly; and he preferred to await the course of events.
Meanwhile, having sent a second mission from Guadalajara to the French
court or camp, with good advice for his young friend and ally Charles
VIII., Ferdinand betook himself with Isabella to Madrid, where the
Spanish sovereigns devoted themselves to the preparation and equipment
of an army to be dispatched at an opportune moment to any part of Italy
where subsequent events might render its presence necessary. As, for
various reasons, it was impossible that either Ferdinand or Isabella
should accompany their army abroad, it became necessary to select a
general. Among all the skillful leaders and gallant knights who had
signalized themselves in the wars of Granada, it was somewhat difficult
to decide upon a commander. But Isabella had never lost sight of
Gonsalvo de Cordova, in whom she discerned traces of rare military
talent; and from the moment the Sicilian expedition was planned she
determined that he should be captain-general of the royal forces. The
greater experience and apparently superior claims of many who had
distinguished themselves in battle against the Moors were urged by
Ferdinand without avail. The command was given to Gonsalvo de Cordova.

But while the Spanish fleet, under the gallant Count of Trivento, was
riding at anchor at Alicante, and Gonsalvo was preparing to embark his
army on board the ships in that harbor, the Spanish sovereigns
dispatched a final embassy to Charles in Italy. On the 28th of January,
1495, as the king was leaving Rome on his way toward Naples, the
embassadors, Juan de Albion and Antonio de Fonseca, arrived at the
Vatican. They found Pope Alexander smarting under the humiliation of his
recent treaty with the invader, and willing to assist them in any scheme
for his discomfiture. They accordingly followed the French army with all
speed, overtook it within a few miles of Rome, and immediately demanded
an audience of Charles, even before his troops had come to a halt. They
delivered up to him their credentials as he was riding along, and
peremptorily required him to proceed no further toward Naples. The
haughty tone of the Spaniards, as may be supposed, excited the greatest
indignation in the breast of Charles and those who surrounded him; high
words arose on both sides, and finally Fonseca, giving way to a
simulated transport of rage, produced a copy of the once prized treaty
of Barcelona, tore it to pieces, and threw down the fragments at
Charles’s feet. Paul Jove seems to think that this violent and
unjustifiable conduct on the part of the Spanish embassador was entirely
unpremeditated; but it is certain that the whole scene had been
preconcerted with either Ferdinand or the Pope. Zurita and the other
chroniclers are silent on the point, but Peter Martyr in one of his
letters affirms that the mutilation of the treaty in Charles’s presence
was included in the secret instructions given to Fonseca by Ferdinand.

The envoys, as was expected, were promptly ordered to quit the French
camp; and retiring with all speed to Rome, they hastened to transmit to
Spain the earliest intelligence of the success of their mission. They
were also permitted to inform their sovereigns of the new honor that had
been conferred upon them by his Holiness Alexander VI., in the shape of
the grant to them and to their heirs forever on the throne of Spain of
the title of “Catholic Kings.”

Meanwhile Charles VIII. had reached Naples, which had at once opened its
gates to the invaders, and the Castel Nuovo and the Castel d’Uovo were
reduced to submission by their well-served artillery. King Alfonso
abdicated the crown, and Fabricio Colonna ravaged the whole kingdom of
Naples to the very gates of Brindisi, dispersing the little band of
troops that had been collected by Don Cæsar of Aragon, illegitimate
brother of the king; while Perron dei Baschi and Stuart d’Aubigny
overran the whole country almost without striking a blow; and the
greater part of the Neapolitan nobility gave their adhesion to the
French. Nothing, however, could be more impolitic or more ungrateful
than the manner in which Charles made use of his unexpectedly acquired
authority, and it soon became evident that the new state of affairs in
Naples would not be of very long duration. The moment for the judicious
interference of Ferdinand of Aragon had not been long in arriving.

The conduct of the French at Naples showed pretty clearly to the
Italian States the mistake they had made in permitting Charles to enter
the country, and they were not slow to accept the suggestions of the
Spanish embassador, Don Lorenzo Suarez de Mendoza y Figueras, that they
should form a league with the object of expelling the French from Italy.
The attitude of the Duke of Orleans, who had remained at Asti, toward
the duchy of Milan, and the favorable reception accorded by Charles to
Giovanni Trivulzio, Cardinal Fregosi, and Hybletto dei Fieschi, the
chiefs of the banished nobles, and the sworn enemies of Ludovico Sforza,
showed that prince how little he had to expect from the French alliance;
and the conduct of Charles toward the Florentines, and indeed toward
every government whose dominion he had traversed throughout Italy,
terrified and enraged every statesman from Milan to Syracuse.

The envoys of the various states assembled at Venice. The deliberations
in the council chamber were brief and decisive; and such was the secrecy
with which the negotiations were conducted that the astute statesman and
historian Philip de Commines, who then represented France at the court
of Venice, remained ignorant that any league or convention was even
contemplated by the various powers, until he was informed by the Doge
Agostino Barberigo, on the morning of the 1st of April, 1495, that the
treaty had been signed on the previous day. The avowed objects of this
Most Holy League, which was entered into by Spain, Austria, Venice,
Milan and the Court of Rome, were the recovery of Constantinople from
the Turks, and the protection of the interests of the Church; but the
secret articles of the treaty, as may be supposed, went much further,
and provided that Ferdinand should employ the Spanish armament, now on
its way to Sicily, in re-establishing his kinsman on the throne of
Naples; that a Venetian fleet of forty galleys should attack the French
positions on the Neapolitan coasts, that the Duke of Milan, the original
summoner, should expel the French from Asti, and blockade the passage of
the Alps, so as to prevent the arrival of further re-enforcements, and
that the Emperor and the King of Spain should invade France on their
respective frontiers, while the expense of all these warlike operations
should be defrayed by subsidies from the allies. The Sultan Bajazet II.,
though not included in the League, offered, and was permitted, to assist
the Venetians both by sea and land against the French. Thus we see the
strange spectacle of the Pope and the Grand Turk--the Prince of
Christendom and the Prince of Islam--united against the first Christian
Power of Europe, under the leadership of The Most Christian King.

Within six weeks of the signature of this important treaty, Charles
VIII. of France had caused himself to be crowned at Naples, with
extraordinary pomp, not only as king, but as emperor; and, having thus
gratified his puerile vanity, he abandoned his fantastic empire, and
flying from the dangers that threatened him in Italy he returned to
Paris. His army in Naples was intrusted to his cousin, Gilbert de
Bourbon, Duc de Montpensier, who was invested with the title of viceroy,
and instructed by the fugitive king to maintain his position in the
country against all opponents.

It is not within the scope of this history to give any detailed account
of the retreat of the French through Italy, of the wonderful passage of
the Apennines at Pontremoli, and the still more wonderful victory of
Fornovo on the Taro, when the French, whose entire force did not exceed
ten thousand soldiers, completely routed the Italian army of thirty-five
thousand men, under the command of Gonzago, marquis of Mantua. The
French forces that remained in southern Italy were doomed to a very
different fate. The command of the French army had been intrusted to the
celebrated Stuart d’Aubigny, a knight of Scottish ancestry, who had been
invested by Charles VIII. with the dignity of Constable of France, and
who was accounted one of the most capable officers in Europe. But a
greater captain than D’Aubigny was already on his way from Castile, who
was in a single campaign to restore the reputation of the Spanish
infantry to the proud position which they had once occupied in the
armies of ancient Rome.

Landing at Reggio in Calabria, on the 26th of May, 1495, with a force of
all arms not exceeding five thousand fighting men, Gonsalvo de Cordova
speedily possessed himself of that important base of operations,
established himself on the coast, captured several inland towns, was
victorious in many skirmishes, and would soon have overrun the whole of
Calabria, had not the rashness of Frederic, the young king of Naples,
who had succeeded but a few months before to the crown which Alfonso had
abdicated after a reign of less than one year, led to a disastrous check
at Seminara. But Gonsalvo rapidly reorganized his army, and showing
himself, like a great general, no less admirable in repairing a defeat
than in taking advantage of a victory, he had kept D’Aubigny so
completely in check that he had been unable even to go to the assistance
of Montpensier, who was in sore straits in Naples. The citizens soon
opened their gates to their lawful sovereign, and Montpensier retreated
with his remaining forces to Avella, on the banks of the Lagni, twenty
miles northeast of the city of Naples, whither Gonsalvo promptly marched
to besiege him. Having received intelligence in the course of his
march--Gonsalvo was ever well informed--that a strong body of French,
with some Angevin knights and nobles, were on their way to effect a
junction with D’Aubigny, he surprised them by a night attack in the
fortified town of Lino, where he captured every one of the Angevin
lords, no less than twenty in number, and immediately marching off to
Avella with his spoils and prisoners, and an immense booty, he arrived
at Frederic’s camp early in July, just thirteen months after their
separation on the disastrous field of Seminara.

On hearing of Gonsalvo’s approach, the king marched out to meet him,
accompanied by Cæsar Borgia, the Papal Legate, and many of the principal
Neapolitan nobles and commanders, who greeted the victorious Castilian
with the proud title of “The Great Captain,” by which he was already
known to some of his contemporaries, and by which he has ever since been
distinguished by posterity. At Avella he found a re-enforcement of five
hundred Spanish soldiers, a welcome addition to his small force, which
amounted on his arrival to only two thousand one hundred men, of whom
six hundred were cavalry. With such an army, less numerous than a modern
German regiment, did Gonsalvo overrun Calabria, out-general the most
renowned French commanders, and defeat their gallant and
well-disciplined forces, emboldened by uninterrupted success.

The siege operations at Avella, which had been conducted without energy
by the Neapolitans, received a new impetus from the presence of the
Spaniard, who displayed such skill and vigor that in a few days the
French, defeated at every point, were glad to sue for terms, and on the
21st of July, 1496, signed a capitulation which virtually put an end to
the war. It was meet that Gonsalvo should now pay a visit to his
countryman at the Vatican, and having, on his way to Rome, delivered the
town of Ostia from the dictatorship of a Basque adventurer of the name
of Guerri, the last remaining hope of the French in Italy, he was
received by Alexander VI. with such splendor that his entry into the
city is said to have resembled rather the _triumph_ of a victorious
general into ancient Rome than the visit of a modern grandee.

The streets were lined with enthusiastic crowds, the windows were filled
with admiring spectators, the very tops of the houses were covered with
lookers-on, as Gonsalvo marched into and through the city, preceded by
bands of music, and accompanied by his victorious army. The entire
garrison of Ostia, with Manuel Guerri at their head, mounted on a
wretched horse, was led captive to the Vatican, where Roderic Borgia, in
the full splendor of his tiara and pontifical robes, and surrounded by
his cardinals, sat on his throne awaiting the coming of his victorious
countryman. When Gonsalvo reached the foot of the throne, he knelt down
to receive the pontifical benediction, but Alexander raised him in his
arms, and presented to him the Golden Rose, the highest and most
distinguished honor that a layman could receive from the hands of the
sovereign Pontiff.

The Great Captain now returned to Naples, into which city he made an
entry scarcely less splendid than that into Rome; and he received at the
hands of Frederic more substantial honors than those of a golden rose,
in the shape of the dukedom of Santangelo, with a fief of two towns and
seven dependent villages in the Abruzzo. From Naples the new duke sailed
for Sicily, which was then in a state of open insurrection, in
consequence of the oppressive rule of Giovanni di Nuccia, the Neapolitan
viceroy. By the intervention of Gonsalvo, the inhabitants were satisfied
to return to their allegiance; and order was restored without the
shedding of a single drop of blood. After some further services to the
state, and to the cause of peace, services both diplomatic and military,
in Naples, in Sicily and in Calabria, adding in every case to his
reputation as a soldier and a statesman, and above all as a great
Castilian gentleman, Gonsalvo returned to his native Spain, where he was
received with the applause and respect that is not always granted to
great men by their own sovereigns, or even by their own countrymen.

His last service to King Frederic and his people, ere he quitted the
country, was no less honorable than wise. Frederic was engaged in the
siege of the last city in the kingdom of Naples that refused to
recognize the dominion of Aragon, the ancient and noble city of Diano,
whose inhabitants, vassals of that Prince of Salerno who was attached
to the Angevin cause, refused to listen to the terms which were
proposed. Gonsalvo took charge of the operations; and the citizens,
convinced of the hopelessness of holding out any longer against so
vigorous a commander, surrendered a few days afterward at discretion.
Gonsalvo, whether touched at their bravery and their forlorn condition,
or merely being adverse from severity for which he saw no reason,
obtained from the king favorable terms for the garrison.

The expulsion of the French from Naples put an end, as might have been
supposed, to The Most Holy League. For the high contracting parties,
finding themselves secure from immediate danger, conceived themselves no
longer bound by its provisions. Maximilian, ever penniless and generally
faithless, had made no attempt to engage in any operations on the French
frontier, nor had any one of the allies contributed to defray the heavy
charges incurred by the Spanish sovereigns in fulfilling their part of
the agreement. The Venetians were rather occupied in securing for
themselves as much of the Neapolitan territory as they could acquire, by
way of indemnification for their own expenses. The Duke of Milan had
already made a separate treaty with Charles VIII. Each member of the
league, in fact, after the first alarm had subsided, had shown himself
ready to sacrifice the common cause to his own private advantage; and
Ferdinand of Aragon, who had already suspended his operations on the
frontiers of Spain in October, 1496, had no difficulty in agreeing to a
further truce as regarded Naples and Italy, which was signed on the 5th
of March, 1497.

The Spaniards had borne the entire burden of the late war. They had
been virtually abandoned by their allies, and their unassisted
operations had led to the deliverance of Naples, to the safety of the
Italian States, and the humiliation and the defeat of the French. Their
immediate objects having been thus happily accomplished, Ferdinand and
Isabella proposed to Charles VIII., without shame or hesitation, that
the French and Spaniards should enter into an immediate treaty of
alliance, with a view to drive out the reigning sovereign of Naples, and
divide his kingdom between themselves! Meanwhile the Castilian envoy to
the Holy See endeavored to induce Alexander VI. to withhold the
investiture of his kingdom from Frederic, the new sovereign of Naples,
on the ground that he was friendly to the Angevin party in Italy, the
hereditary enemies of Spain. But Alexander paid no heed to Garcilaso de
la Vega. Charles showed himself not only willing but eager to treat with
Fernando de Estrada; but unwilling at once to abandon all his claims to
Italian sovereignty, he offered to cede Navarre to Ferdinand, and keep
all Naples to himself. Proposals and counter proposals thus passed
between France and Spain; but before any definite programme had been
agreed to, the negotiations were cut short by the sudden death of the
French monarch, in the tennis court at Amboise, on the eve of Easter,

The success of the Spanish arms under Gonsalvo de Cordova in Italy was
but the beginning of a long career of triumph. From the great victory at
Seminara, in 1503, to the great defeat of Rocroy, in 1643, the Spanish
infantry remained unconquered in Europe. The armies of Castile had been,
indeed, as Prescott has it, “cooped up within the narrow limits of the
Peninsula, uninstructed and taking little interest in the concerns of
the rest of Europe.” But the soldiers and sailors of Aragon and
Catalonia had fought with distinction, not only in Italy and in Sicily,
but in the furthest east of Europe, for two hundred years before the
Great Captain of the United Kingdom set foot on the shores of Calabria.
Yet the victories of Gonsalvo were the beginning of a new era, and his
life is interesting, not only as that of a brave soldier and an
accomplished general, who flourished at a very important period of the
history of Europe; but it is further and much more interesting as being
the history of a man who united in himself many of the characteristics
of ancient and modern civilization, and who himself appears as a sort of
middle term between medieval and modern times.

In personal valor, in knightly courtesy, in gaudy display, he was of his
own time. In astute generalship, and in still more astute diplomacy, an
envoy not an adventurer, the servant and not the rival of kings, he
belongs to a succeeding age, when the leader of a victorious army is
prouder to be a loyal subject than a rash rebel. The Castilian lords of
earlier days had ever been brave knights; their followers had ever been
hardy and untiring combatants. But Gonsalvo was not only a tactician,
but a strategist. The men whom he commanded were soldiers. Newly armed
and admirably disciplined, the regiments were no longer the followers of
some powerful nobleman; they formed a part of the national army of
Spain. The short sword of their Celtiberian ancestors was once more
found in their hands. The long lances of the Swiss mercenaries were
adopted with conspicuous success. The drill-sergeant took the place of
the minstrel in the camp.

Nor was this revolution in the art of war confined to the conduct of the
Spanish troops in the field. Before the close of the campaign a national
militia, or rather a standing army, had taken the place of the brave but
irregular levies of medieval Spain. A royal ordinance regulated the
equipment of every individual, according to his property. A man’s arms
were declared free from seizure for debt, even by the Crown, and smiths
and other artificers were restricted, under severe penalties, from
working up weapons of war into articles of more pacific use. In 1426 a
census was taken of all persons capable of bearing arms; and by an
ordinance issued at Valladolid, on February 22d of the same year, it was
provided that one out of every twelve inhabitants, between twenty and
forty-five years of age, should be enlisted for the service of the
State, whether in the conduct of a foreign war or the suppression of
domestic disorder.




The reign of Ferdinand and Isabella was made immemorial through Columbus
and his discovery. The man and the event will, in subsequent chapters,
be considered at length. For the present it will suffice to note that on
his return from the New World, after being loaded with honors, a
question arose as to Isabella’s right to confer the dignities thus
bestowed--Portugal claiming the territory by reason of an anterior grant
from the Pope, who, in common with all other parties, believed it to be
part of India.

The question was referred to a Junta of learned men of both nations, at
the same time that application was made to the reigning Pope, Alexander
VI., concerning it. The junta decided that the discoveries of Columbus
were not included in the Portuguese grant; and his Holiness finally, as
he conceived, terminated the dispute by drawing a line across the
Atlantic, from pole to pole, and adjudging all lands discovered on the
east of that line to Portugal, all on the west to Castile.

In connection with this it should be noted that, in 1497, Manuel of
Portugal sent Vasco da Gama with three ships to double the Cape of Good
Hope, with a view to tapping India. In the month of November, Gama
successfully doubled the formidable Cape, and sailed up the eastern
coast of Africa, as far as Mozambique. Here he found a Moor from Fez,
who, acting as interpreter between him and the natives, facilitated the
conclusion of a treaty, in virtue of which the King of Mozambique was to
furnish the adventurous navigators with pilots well acquainted with the
course to India. But, while they were taking in wood and water, a
quarrel arose with the natives, to whom the fault is of course imputed.
The pilots made their escape, and hostilities ensued. They did not last
long; the terrors of the Portuguese firearms soon compelling the
Africans to submit. Another, and, as the king assured Gama, a better
pilot was supplied, and on the 1st of April, 1498, he sailed from

The new pilot proved quite as ill-disposed as his predecessors,
endeavoring to betray the fleet into the power of his countrymen at
Mombaza; and being alarmed with apprehensions of detection, by the
bustle apparent in the crew of Gama’s ship, which had accidentally
grounded, he also made his escape. It was not till they reached Melinda
that they found really friendly natives. From that port Gama at last
obtained a pilot who steered him right across the gulf to the coast of

The first place in India made by the Portuguese was Calecut. Here Gama
announced himself as an embassador sent by the King of Portugal to
negotiate a treaty of alliance with the sovereign, the zamorin of
Calecut, one of the most powerful princes of that part of Hindustan, to
establish commercial relations, and to convert the natives to
Christianity. How far this last object of his mission was agreeable to
the bigoted Hindus, or the equally bigoted Muhammadan conquerors, who
were then the masters of those wealthy regions, we are not distinctly
told by the Portuguese historians; but the zamorin appears in the first
instance to have received Gama well, and been upon the whole pleased
with his visit. This friendly intercourse was interrupted, as we are
assured, by the intrigues of the Moors or Arabs, who, being in
possession of the pepper trade, and indeed of the whole spice trade,
were jealous of interlopers. Quarrels arose, and some acts of violence
were committed. They ended, however, in Gama’s gaining the advantage,
and friendship was restored between him and the zamorin. He reached
Portugal in July, 1499, after a two years’ voyage, and was, like
Columbus in Spain, loaded with honors.

We may now return to Ferdinand and Isabella. This was the brightest
period of their lives. The repulse of Charles VIII., and the victories
of Gonsalvo, added fresh luster to their reign. Moreover, through
measures then undertaken, the unconverted Moors were subdued, and the
French provinces were regained; but, over and above all, a new world had
been discovered, and marriages, seemingly the most fortunate, were
concluded: Ferdinand and Isabella’s son and heir, Don John, having
married the daughter of the Emperor Maximilian; their second daughter
Joanna, Philip, the son and heir of that monarch, by Mary of Burgundy,
and already, in right of his deceased mother, sovereign of the rich and
fertile Netherlands; the third, Katharine, was affianced to Arthur,
Prince of Wales; and Manuel, duke of Beja, having succeeded to his
cousin John II. of Portugal, despite all intrigues in favor of the
illegitimate Don George, solicited and obtained the hand of the eldest
Infanta, the widow of the Prince of Portugal.

The first to be celebrated of all these royal marriages was that of the
Princess Isabella with Alfonso, the heir to the crown of Portugal, which
took place in the autumn of the year 1490, and which was apparently
calculated to lead to the happiest results. But the magnificent wedding
festivities at Lisbon were scarce concluded when the bridegroom died,
and the widowed princess returned disconsolate to her mother (January,

The marriage of John, prince of Asturias, was the next, and apparently
the most important alliance that engaged the attention of his parents;
and, moved by many considerations of policy and prestige, they turned
their thoughts to far-away Flanders. Maximilian of Hapsburg, the titular
sovereign of the Holy Roman Empire, had, by his first wife, Mary, a
daughter of Charles the Bold, and in her own right Duchess of Burgundy,
been made the father of two children, Philip, born in 1478, and
Margaret, in 1480. Their mother, the beautiful empress, died in 1482;
and Philip, on attaining his legal majority at the age of sixteen,
assumed, in her right, the government of the Low Countries in 1494. It
was with this youthful sovereign, the heir to yet more splendid
possessions, that the Catholic sovereigns desired to unite their younger
daughter in marriage, while the hand of his sister Margaret was sought
for the Prince of Asturias. The advantages to Spain of such a double
marriage were enormous.

If Prince John were to marry the Archduchess Margaret, the only daughter
of the emperor, he would inherit, in the event of the death of the
Archduke Philip without issue, the great possessions of the Hapsburgs,
Austria, Flanders, and Burgundy, with a claim to the empire that had
eluded his great ancestor, Alfonso X. That the Archduke Philip should in
his turn espouse, not Isabella, the eldest, but Joanna, the second
daughter of the Catholic king, would prevent Spain from passing under
the dominion of Austria, even in the unlikely event of the death of
Prince John without issue, inasmuch as Isabella of Portugal would, in
such a case, inherit the Spanish crown, to the prejudice of her younger
sister in Flanders. And finally, if all the young wives and husbands
should live to a reasonable age, and should leave children behind them
at their death, one grandson of Ferdinand and Isabella would wear the
imperial purple as lord of Central Europe, and another would sit upon
the throne of a great united Peninsular kingdom of Castile, Portugal,
and Aragon.

In the early autumn of 1496 (August 22), a splendid fleet set out from
Laredo, a little port between Bilbao and Santander, which carried Joanna
in safety to her expectant bridegroom. The archduke and the princess for
whom so sad a fate was reserved were married at Lille with the usual
rejoicings; and the Spanish admiral, charged a second time with a
precious freight of marriageable royalty, brought back the Lady Margaret
of Hapsburg with all honor to Spanish Santander, early in March, 1497.
The marriage of the heir apparent took place at Burgos, on the 3d of
April; and on the 4th of October of the same year, the gentle and
accomplished Prince of Asturias had passed away from Spain, and from the

Yet, once again, and for a few months, there lived an heir to United
Spain, whose brief existence is scarce remembered in history. Isabella,
the widowed queen of John II. of Portugal, had been persuaded or
constrained by her parents to contract a second marriage with her
husband’s cousin and successor Emmanuel; but the price of her hand was
the price of blood. For it was stipulated that the Jews, who, by the
liberality of the late king, had been permitted to find a home in his
dominions, should be driven out of the country after the stern Castilian
fashion of 1492, ere the widowed Isabella should wed her cousin on the
throne of Portugal.

Whether the princess was an apt pupil, or merely the slave of her mother
and the Inquisitor that lurked behind the throne, we cannot say, but the
Portuguese lover consented to the odious bargain. The marriage was
solemnized at Valencia de Alcantara, in the early days of the month of
August, 1497, and the stipulated Tribute to Bigotry was duly paid. But
before ever the bridal party had left the town, an express had arrived
with the news of the mortal illness of the bride’s only brother; and in
little more than a year the young queen herself, on the 23d of August,
1498, expired in giving birth to a son. The boy received the name of
Miguel, and lived for nearly two years--the heir apparent of Portugal,
of Aragon, and of Castile--until he too was involved in the general

But some time before the death, or even before the birth of Miguel,
another royal marriage had been concluded, whose results throughout all
time were no less remarkable and scarce less important than that which
handed over Spain to a Flemish emperor. For after infinite negotiations
and more than one rupture, after some ten years’ huxtering about dowry,
and a dozen changes of policy on the part of the various sovereigns
interested in the alliance, Katharine, the youngest daughter of
Ferdinand and Isabella, more familiarly known as Katharine of Aragon,
had been married to Arthur, Prince of Wales, and the first act had been
concluded of that strange and fateful drama that led to the Reformation
in England.

The dignified sadness of her story as Queen Katharine--insulted,
divorced, and abandoned--the unwilling heroine of the great tragic drama
that was played in the reign of Henry VIII. of England, is known to all
men, who extend to her, with one consent, their pity and their respect.
But those only who know something of the seven dreary and disgraceful
years that she spent in the palace of her father-in-law, before she was
permitted to know, even for a season, the happiness of a husband’s love,
or to enjoy the great position of Queen of England, may alone understand
the fullness of the measure of her wretchedness.

In June, 1504, Isabella, who had for some time been ailing, and who
seems to have suffered from some nervous disease, was struck down
suddenly by fever. She had lived a hard life. She had never spared
herself, or others. The unhappy marriages of her children had cast a
dark shadow over her life. But hers was not the nature to repine.
Diligent, abstemious, resolute, she had borne pain and suffering, and
she was not afraid to face death. Unable at length to rise from her
couch, as the autumn drew to a close, she continued to transact her
accustomed business, gave audience to embassadors, chatted with
privileged visitors, and, in the words of an astonished stranger,
governed the world from her bed.

At last, on the 26th of November, 1504, as the church bells of Medina
del Campo were ringing out the hour of noon, the spirit of Isabella of
Castile flitted away from this world; and her mortal remains were
conducted by a mournful company to their last resting place under the
shadow of the red towers of Alhambra. Through storm and tempest, amid
earthquake and inundation, across mountain and river, the affrighted
travelers wended their way. For the sun was not seen by day nor the
stars by night, during three long and weary weeks, as if the very forces
of nature were disturbed at the death of a giant among the princes of
the earth.

The character of Isabella has suffered to an uncommon extent from an
ignorant glorification of virtues that she was far from possessing, and
the concealment of those transcendent powers that made her not only one
of the greatest rulers of Spain, but one of the greatest women in the
history of the world. Until the opening of the treasure-house at
Simancas displayed her correspondence to the world, she was only known
from the extravagant but somewhat colorless panegyrics of contemporary
chroniclers, who recognized at least that she was a royal lady,
compelling their gallant admiration, and that she was immensely
superior to her husband, whom it was necessary also to glorify, as the
last Spanish sovereign of Spain.

Isabella was one of the most remarkable characters in history. Not only
was she the most masterful, and, from her own point of view, by far the
most successful ruler that ever sat upon the throne of Spain, or of any
of the kingdoms of the Peninsula; she stands in the front rank of the
great sovereigns of Europe, and challenges comparison with the greatest
women who have ever held sway in the world. A reformer and a zealot, an
autocrat and a leader of men, with a handsome face and a gracious
manner, scarce concealing the iron will that lay beneath, Isabella was
patient in adversity, dignified in prosperity, at all times quiet,
determined, thorough.

In one particular she stands alone among the great ruling women, the
conquerors and empresses of history. She is the only royal lady, save,
perhaps, Maria Theresa of Hungary, who maintained through life the
incongruous relations of a masterful sovereign and a devoted wife, and
shared not only her bed but her throne with a husband whom she
respected--a fellow-sovereign whom she neither feared nor disregarded.
To command the obedience of a proud and warlike people is given to few
of the great men of history. To do the bidding of another with vigor and
with discretion is a task that has been but rarely accomplished by a
heaven-born minister. But to conceive and carry out great designs, with
one hand in the grasp of even the most loyal of companions, is a
triumphant combination of energy with discretion, of the finest tact
with the most indomitable resolution, that stamps Isabella of Spain as
a being more vigorous than the greatest men, more discreet than the
greatest women of history. Semiramis, Zenobia, Boadicea, Elizabeth of
England, Catherine of Russia, not one of them was embarrassed by a
partner on the throne. The partner of Isabella was not only a husband
but a king, jealous, restless, and untrustworthy. It is in this respect,
and in the immense scope of her political action, that the great Queen
of Castile is comparable with the bold Empress-King of Hungary rather
than with any other of the great queens and royal ladies of history.

The husband of Zenobia indeed enjoyed the title of Augustus; but it was
only after his assassination that the lady earned her fame as a ruler.
Catherine caused her imperial consort to be executed as a preliminary to
her vigorous reign in Russia; Boadicea was the successor and not the
colleague of Prasutagus; and Semiramis, though herself somewhat a
mythical personage, is said to have slain both her husband and his
rival, in her assertion of her absolute power. Yet Isabella
revolutionized the institutions of her country, religious, political,
military, financial, she consolidated her dominions, humiliated her
nobles, cajoled her Commons, defied the Pope, reformed the clergy; she
burned some ten thousand of her subjects; she deported a million more;
and of the remnant she made a great nation; she brooked no man’s
opposition, in a reign of thirty years, and she died in the arms of the
king, her husband!

Ferdinand of Aragon was no hero. But he was a strong man; a capable
ruler; a clever if a treacherous diplomatist. And to this husband and
consort was Isabella faithful through life, not merely in the grosser
sense of the word, to which Ferdinand for himself paid so little heed;
but in every way and walk of life. She supported him in his policy; she
assisted him in his intrigues; she encouraged him in his ambitious
designs; she lied for him, whenever prudence required it; she worked for
him at all times, as she worked for Spain. For his policy, his
intrigues, his designs were all her own. Whenever the views of the king
and queen were for a moment discordant, Isabella prevailed, without
apparent conflict of authority. In her assumption of supremacy in the
marriage contract; in her nomination of Gonsalvo de Cordova to the
command of the army; in her choice of Ximenez as the Primate of Spain,
she carried her point, not by petulance or even by argument, but by
sheer force of character; nor did she strain for one moment, even in
these manifestations of her royal supremacy, the friendly and even
affectionate relations that ever subsisted between herself and her

The love and devotion of Isabella was a thing of which the greatest of
men might have well been proud. And though Ferdinand the Catholic may
not fairly be counted among the greatest, he was a man wise enough to
appreciate the merits of his queen, and to accept and maintain the
anomalous position in which he found himself as her consort.

In war at least it might have been supposed that the queen would occupy
a subordinate position. Yet in no department of State did Isabella show
to greater advantage than as the organizer of victorious armies; not as
a batallador after the fashion of her distinguished ancestors in
Castile and in Aragon; but as the originator of an entirely new system
of military administration.

Before her time, in Spain, war had been waged by the great nobles and
their retainers in attendance upon the king. There was no such thing as
uniformity of action or preparation, no central organization of any
kind. Each man went into battle to fight and to forage as opportunity
offered. Each commander vied with his fellow nobles in deeds of bravery,
and accorded to them such support as he chose. The sovereign exercised a
general authority, and assumed the active command of the united
multitude of soldiers, on rare and important occasions. If victory
followed, as at the Navas de Tolosa, the soldiers were rewarded with the
plunder, and took possession of the property of the enemy. If the
Christians were defeated, the army melted away; and the king betook
himself to the nearest shelter.

But Isabella had no sooner assumed the title of Queen of Castile, than
she was called upon to maintain her pretensions in the field. With no
experience but that of a country palace, with no training but that of a
country cloister, she set herself to work to organize an army. On the
1st of May, 1474, five hundred horsemen represented the entire forces of
the fair usurper. By the 19th of July she had collected over forty
thousand men, had armed and equipped them ready for the field, and had
sent them forward under the command of Ferdinand to the frontier.
Although she was at the time in delicate health, she was constantly in
the saddle, riding long distances from fortress to fortress, hurrying up
recruits all day, dictating letters all night, giving her zealous
personal attention to every detail of armory and equipment, showing
from the first that quiet energy and that natural aptitude for command
that ever so constantly distinguished her. That her levies were not
victorious in no way daunted her determination. A second army was raised
by her, within a few weeks after the first had melted away under
Ferdinand; nor would she listen to any offers of negotiation, until the
enemy had been driven out of Castile.

In the conduct of the war of Granada, with time and money at her
command, her preparations were upon a very different scale. The most
skillful artificers were summoned from every part of Europe to assist in
the work of supplying the army with the necessary material of war.
Artillery, then almost unknown to the military art, was manufactured in
Spain according to the best designs. Model cannon were imported, and the
necessary ammunition collected from abroad. Sword-blades were forged at
home. Not only a commissariat, but a field hospital--institutions till
then unheard of in Spanish warfare--were organized and maintained under
the personal supervision of the queen. The presence of a lady on the day
of battle would, as a rule, as she rightly judged, have been rather a
hinderance than a help; but she was very far from being a mere
commissioner of supply. A first-rate horsewoman, she was constantly seen
riding about the camp, encouraging, inspecting, directing; and in the
last days of the siege of Granada, when the spirits of the troops had
begun to flag, she appeared daily in complete armor, and showed herself
upon more than one occasion in a post of danger on the field. The armies
with which Gonsalvo de Cordova overran Calabria, and annihilated the
French at Cerignola, were prepared and dispatched by Isabella; and if,
in a subsequent campaign, the Great Captain was left without supplies or
re-enforcements, it was that the queen was already sickening to her
death, broken down and worn out by her constant and enormous exertions.

But with all her aptitude for military organization, Isabella had no
love for war. Her first campaign was undertaken to make good her
pretensions to the crown. The extermination of the Moslems was a matter
of religious feeling and patriotic pride, rather than an object of
military glory; but she refused to pursue her conquest across the
Straits of Gibraltar. The expeditions to Italy were a part of
Ferdinand’s diplomacy, though the honor of victory must be shared
between Isabella and her Great Captain. But the queen’s ambition lay not
in conquest abroad. On the contrary, as soon as the last province in
Spain had been delivered from the foreign yoke of the Moor, she turned
her attention to the peaceful development of the kingdom; and,
unlettered warrior as she was, she bestowed her royal patronage upon
students and studies, rather than upon the knights and nobles who had
fought her battles before Granada.

The old foundations of the Universities, the new art of printing,
scholarship, music, architecture found in her a generous patron, not so
much from predilection as from policy. Men of letters and men of
learning were welcomed at her court, not only from every part of Spain,
but from every part of Europe. For herself she had little appreciation
of literature. She neither knew nor cared what influence her beloved
Inquisition would have upon science. But as long as the queen lived,
learning was honored in Spain.

In this, as in all other things, her judgment of men was unerring. The
queen who made Gonsalvo the commander-in-chief of her armies, and
Ximenez the president of her council, who selected Torquemada as her
grand inquisitor, and Talavera as her archbishop of Granada, made no
mistake when she invited Peter Martyr to instruct her son in polite
letters, and commissioned Lebrija to compose the first Castilian Grammar
for the use of her court.

Her beauty of face and form are familiar. Yet vanity was unknown to her
nature. Simple and abstemious in her daily life, and despising pomp for
its own sake, no one could make a braver show on fitting occasions; and
the richness of her apparel, the glory of her jewels, and the noble
dignity of her presence, have been celebrated by subjects and strangers.

At the death of Isabella, Ferdinand, in accordance with the provisions
of her will, caused his daughter, Joanna, to be proclaimed queen and
himself regent. Philip, archduke of Austria, the husband of Joanna,
having disputed the rights of his father-in-law and threatened an appeal
to arms, the latter in disgust, with the view of again separating the
crowns of Aragon and Castile, entered into negotiations with Louis XII.,
married Germaine de Foix, the niece of Louis (1505), and shortly
afterward resigned the regency of Castile. On the death of Philip, in
1506, he resumed the administration, though not without opposition, and
retained it till his death. In 1508 he joined the League of Cambray for
the partition of Venice, and thus without any trouble became master of
five important Neapolitan cities.

In the following year (1509) the African expedition of Cardinal Ximenez
was undertaken, which resulted in the conquest of Oran. In 1511
Ferdinand joined Venice and Pope Julius II. in a “holy league” for the
expulsion of the French from Italy. This gave a pretext for invading
Navarre, which had entered into alliance with France, and been laid
under Papal interdict in consequence. Aided by his son-in-law Henry
VIII. of England, who sent a squadron under the Marquis of Dorset to
co-operate in the descent on Guienne, Ferdinand became master of Navarre
in 1513; and on June 15, 1515, by a solemn act in Cortes held at Burgos,
he incorporated it with the kingdom of Castile.

The League of Cambray, which was signed on the 10th of December, 1508,
between Louis XII., the Emperor Maximilian, and Ferdinand of Aragon, at
the instance of the warlike Pope Julius II., was nominally directed
against the Turks, but was in reality a coalition for the destruction
and partition among the confiscators of the rich State of Venice. If
anything was wanted to make this league of public plunderers more
corrupt and more odious than it would under any circumstances have been,
it was that the kings of France and of Aragon, in order to secure the
adhesion of the Medicis, sacrificed their faithful allies, the Pisans,
after solemn assurances of protection and support, and actually sold
that ancient city to the Florentines, their hereditary enemies, for a
hundred thousand ducats.

But all their bad faith and covetousness was displayed in vain. The
perfidious leaguers could not even trust one another; and the success of
the French arms at Agnadel, in May, 1509, so seriously alarmed both
Julius and Ferdinand that a second treaty was concluded in October,
1511, when the Pope and the King of Aragon invited the Venetian
Republic, for whose destruction they had leagued themselves together
with Louis XII. not three years before, to assist them in driving the
French out of Italy.

Of the consummate skill with which Ferdinand, from the middle of 1509 to
the end of 1511, played off his allies and rivals one against the other,
until he had accomplished the central object of his diplomacy in the
great Confederation against Louis XII., we may read in the history of
France and of Italy, of England and of Germany, rather than in the
Chronicles of Aragon. For King Ferdinand pulled the strings that moved
the puppets, while he remained wellnigh hidden himself. But by the end
of 1511 the showman was compelled to make his own appearance upon the
stage of European warfare; and Ferdinand was ever less successful as an
actor than as an impresario. His policy for the past two years had been
the formation of a league against his dearly-beloved uncle-in-law, Louis
XII., by the aid of his dearly-beloved son-in-law, Henry VIII. Queen
Katharine, who had already played the part of embassador to her English
father-in-law, was to make use of her influence over her English
husband; and if the queen should refuse to advise King Henry to go to
war with France, her confessor was to tell her that she was bound as a
good Christian to do so.

To coerce the confessor, Ferdinand applied to the Pope; and to control
the Pope, he betrayed to him, in secret, the whole scheme of King Louis
XII. as regarded the plunder of the States of the Church. It is easy to
understand what an effect the communication of the French king’s plans
of spoliation produced upon the excitable and irascible Julius. When he
had learned that he was not only to be robbed of his temporalities, but
that he was to be deposed and imprisoned in case he should prove
spiritually intractable, he hastened, in spite of his age and his
infirmities, to traverse the snow-covered mountains, that he might meet
his enemy in the field.

The King of Aragon was a diplomatist who left nothing to chance. He
trusted no man. And if no man trusted him, he never deceived himself by
supposing that any one was simple enough to do so. No detail, however
trifling, was neglected by him in his negotiations. No contingency,
however remote, was left out of sight in his intrigues. And however
little we may respect his character, which was perhaps not much worse
than that of some of his rivals, we cannot refuse to admire his
transcendent skill, his infinite perseverance, his forethought, and his
keen appreciation of every shade of political development. A little
honesty would have made him a great man, a little generosity would have
made him a great king. His policy, moreover, toward the close of his
life, is at least worthy of an admiration which has rarely been extended
to it. It was a policy which embraced all Europe in its scope; and
although it had no direct relation to Spain or the Spanish people, it
would be ill to conclude even a brief survey of the history of Spain
without referring to the imperial dreams of the great Spaniard, first of
modern diplomatists, and of his early endeavors to solve more than one
of those questions that still embarrass the foreign policy of modern
States: the establishment of a kingdom of Italy; the alliance between
Italy and Germany, to withstand a dreaded power beyond the Danube and
the Carpathians; the entanglement of England in a central European
league; and the treatment of the Pope of Rome.

The Turks, the medieval bugbear in the East--for the Middle Ages had
also their Eastern Question--were at this time rapidly encroaching upon
Christian Europe; and it was obviously desirable to form a powerful
empire, as a bulwark of Christendom, on the banks of the Danube. The
opportunity of founding a great empire in central Europe actually
existed. Ladislaus II., king of Bohemia and of Hungary, had only one
son, Louis, who was of so delicate a constitution that no issue could be
expected of his marriage. In case he should die without children, his
sister, the Princess Anne, was the heiress of both his kingdoms; and if
her father could be persuaded to marry her to the heir of the Austrian
principalities, Bohemia, Austria, and Hungary, thus united with the
heritage of the Hapsburgs, would form by no means a contemptible State,
which might itself be but the nucleus of a greater and more ambitious

Naples, which had so lately been added to the Spanish dominions, was
still exposed to the attacks of the French, who claimed one-half, and
were always ready to appropriate to themselves the whole of the kingdom.
Naples was separated from France, indeed, by a considerable extent of
territory in Italy; but the smaller Italian States were too weak to
render any serious resistance, and too fickle to be counted upon as
friends or as foes by any Spanish sovereign. The best way to render
Naples secure was, in the eyes of Ferdinand, the foundation of a great
kingdom in northern Italy, powerful enough to prevent the French from
marching their armies to the south. The formation of such a kingdom
moreover would have greatly facilitated a peaceful division of the great
Austro-Spanish inheritance between Prince Charles and his brother, the
Infante Ferdinand.

If Charles could be provided not only with the kingdom of Spain, but
with the possessions of Maximilian and Ladislaus and the Princess Anne,
and the empire of central Europe, his younger brother Ferdinand might
content himself with a kingdom to be made up of all the States of Italy,
protected against the encroachments of France by Spanish infantry and
German landsknechts, and ready to drive the Turk out of the
Mediterranean in support of the Christian empire on the Danube.

The kingdom of Italy, thus designed for his younger grandson by the
far-seeing Ferdinand of Aragon, was to consist of Genoa, Pavia, Milan,
and the Venetian territories on the mainland. The country of the Tyrol,
being the most southern of the Austrian dominions, could, without
sensibly weakening the projected empire, be separated from it and added
to the new kingdom in Italy. Thus stretching from the Mediterranean to
the Adriatic, and from the Gulf of Spezia to the Lake of Constance, this
sixteenth century kingdom of Italy, with the whole power of the Holy
Roman Empire to support it, would have been a splendid endowment for a
younger son of the greatest family on earth. There was also a reasonable
prospect that it might afterward be still further enlarged by the
addition of Naples, and the smaller Italian States would easily have
fallen a prey to their powerful neighbor. But in addition to all this,
Ferdinand thought that he would render a notable service to the Catholic
religion and to the peace of Europe if the Church were thoroughly
reformed. What Rome herself has lost by Ferdinand’s failure it is not
given even to the Infallible to know. What the king’s reforms were to
be, we can only shrewdly surmise; and although they would most assuredly
not have been Protestant, they would with equal certainty have been by
no means palatable to the Vatican. For it is reasonably probable that if
either Louis XII. or Ferdinand the Catholic had been permitted to carry
out their designs, the Pope of Rome would have found himself deprived of
his temporal power, and Garibaldi, nay, perchance Luther, would have
been forestalled. It was the reforms of Ximenez that to a large extent
prevented Luther in Spain. The reforms of Ferdinand might possibly have
prevented him in Italy.

It was in 1516 that Ferdinand died. Seven years previous Queen Germaine
had been delivered of a son, who received from his parents the name of
John. But the curse that lay upon the children of Ferdinand was not yet
spent; and the rival of Charles V., the heir of Aragon, Sardinia,
Naples, and Sicily, was permitted to gladden the envious heart of his
father by but a few hours of life. As years passed on there seemed
little chance of any further issue of the King and Queen of Aragon. The
unity of Spain at length appeared to be secure. But the ambition of
Ferdinand was even surpassed by his jealousy. Childless, vindictive, and
obstinate, he chafed at the ill-success of his personal schemes; and
rather than suffer the crown of united Spain to pass over to his
daughter’s son and heir, he sought, at the hands of some medical
impostor, the powers that were denied to his old age. The drug that was
to have renewed his youth destroyed his constitution, and his death was
the direct result of one of the least creditable of the many
developments of his jealousy, his obstinacy, and his selfishness.

At length came the inevitable end; and at the wretched hamlet of
Madrigalejo, near Guadalupe, in the mountains of Estremadura, on the 23d
of January of the new year 1516, Ferdinand died; and Spain was at length
a United Kingdom.




With the death of Ferdinand begins the period of uninterrupted Hapsburg
rule in Spain, which lasted for nearly two centuries. In the course of
this period, the monarchy obtained absolute authority, and Spain, after
rising for a time to be the foremost State in Europe, sank to the
position of a second-rate power, from which it has never since emerged.
Aragon and Castile were distinct kingdoms, and the former was again
divided into the three provinces of Aragon, Catalonia, and Valencia,
each of which had its own Cortes, its own privileges, and the most
warmly-cherished traditions of independence. The foreign possessions of
the two crowns were a source of weakness rather than of strength. France
stood ready at the earliest opportunity to contest the possession of
Navarre with Castile, and that of Naples with Aragon.

The difficulties of domestic government were increased by the fact that
the prospective ruler was a youthful foreigner, who had never visited
Spain, and who was completely ignorant of the customs and even of the
language of the country. Charles--the son of Philip, archduke of
Austria, and of Jane, daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella--had been born
and educated in the Netherlands, of which he had been nominal ruler ever
since the death of his father in 1506. All his friends and advisers were
Flemings, who cared nothing for Spanish interests, and had already
acquired an evil reputation for selfish greed. The first symptom of
discontent in Spain was excited by Charles’s demand to be recognized as
king, in utter disregard of his mother. In Aragon the demand was
unhesitatingly refused, but in Castile the vigorous measures of the
famous Cardinal Ximenez secured Charles’s proclamation.

The regent, however, had great difficulties to face. The nobles,
delighted to be rid of the strong government of Ferdinand, wished to
utilize the opportunity to regain the privileges and independence they
had lost. In this crisis the loyal devotion of Ximenez saved the
monarchy. Throwing himself upon the support of the citizen class, he
organized a militia which overawed the nobles and maintained order. A
French invasion of Navarre was repulsed, and to avoid any danger from
the discontent of the inhabitants, all the fortresses of the province,
with the single exception of Pamplona, were dismantled. These
distinguished services were rewarded with more than royal ingratitude by
Charles, who came to Spain in 1517, and who allowed the aged cardinal to
die on November 8th, without even granting him an interview.

Charles’s enormous inheritance was increased by the successes of Cortes
in Mexico and of Pizarro in Peru, by his own annexation of the Milanese,
and by his conquests in northern Africa.

The glory of Spain was then at its apogee. After his death, which
occurred in 1558, the decline set in. From this time also the House of
Hapsburg became divided into its contemporary branches.

Charles was succeeded by Philip II., his only legitimate son. The
administration of the latter, while successful at home, was a failure
abroad. During his reign a claim to the throne of Portugal was
successfully asserted, and the unity of the Peninsula was completed.
Moreover, colonial possessions were greatly extended. Yet his religious
intolerance excited the revolt of the Netherlands, which resulted in a
loss of the seven northern provinces. His effort to obtain a
preponderant influence over France was dexterously foiled by the
succession and triumph of Henry IV. But his great and historical defeat
was that which he experienced with the Armada.

Besides the Spanish crown, Philip succeeded to the kingdoms of Naples
and Sicily, the Duchy of Milan, Franche-Comte, and the Netherlands. In
Africa he possessed Tunis, Oran, the Cape Verd, and the Canary Islands;
and in Asia, the Philippine and Sunda Islands, and a part of the
Moluccas. Beyond the Atlantic he was lord of the most splendid portions
of the New World. The empires of Peru and Mexico, New Spain, and Chili,
with their abundant mines of the precious metals, Hispaniola and Cuba,
and many other of the American islands, were provinces of the sovereign
of Spain.

Philip had also the advantage of finding himself at the head of a large
standing army in a perfect state of discipline and equipment, in an age
when, except some few insignificant corps, standing armies were unknown
to Christendom. The renown of the Spanish troops was justly high, and
the infantry in particular was considered the best in the world. His
fleet, also, was far more numerous, and better appointed, than that of
any other European power; and both his soldiers and his sailors had the
confidence in themselves and their commanders which a long career of
successful warfare alone can create.

One nation only had been his active, his persevering, and his successful
foe. England had encouraged his revolted subjects in Flanders against
him, and given them the aid in men and money without which they must
soon have been humbled in the dust. English ships had plundered his
colonies; had defied his supremacy in the New World, as well as the Old;
they had inflicted ignominious defeats on his squadrons; they had
captured his cities, and burned his arsenals on the very coasts of
Spain. The English had made Philip himself the object of personal
insult. He was held up to ridicule in their stage plays and masks, and
these scoffs at the man had (as is not unusual in such cases) excited
the anger of the absolute king, even more vehemently than the injuries
inflicted on his power. Personal as well as political revenge urged him
to attack England. Were she once subdued, the Dutch must submit; France
could not cope with him, the empire would not oppose him; and universal
dominion seemed sure to be the result of the conquest of that malignant

For some time the destination of an enormous armament which he had long
been preparing was not publicly announced. Only Philip himself, the Pope
Sixtus, the Duke of Guise, and Philip’s favorite minister, Mendoza, at
first knew its real object. Rumors were sedulously spread that it was
designed to proceed to the Indies to realize vast projects of distant
conquest. Sometimes hints were dropped by Philip’s embassadors in
foreign courts that their master had resolved on a decisive effort to
crush his rebels in the Low Countries. But Elizabeth and her statesmen
could not view the gathering of such a storm without feeling the
probability of its bursting on their own shores. As early as the spring
of 1587, Elizabeth sent Sir Francis Drake to cruise off the Tagus. Drake
sailed into the Bay of Cadiz and the Lisbon Roads, and burned much
shipping and military stores, causing thereby an important delay in the
progress of the Spanish preparations. Drake called this “Singeing the
king of Spain’s beard.” Elizabeth also increased her succors of troops
to the Netherlanders, to prevent the Prince of Parma from overwhelming
them, and from thence being at full leisure to employ his army against
her dominions.

Philip had an ally in France who was far more powerful than the French
king. This was the Duke of Guise, the chief of the League, and the idol
of the fanatic partisans of the Romish faith. Philip prevailed on Guise
openly to take up arms against Henry III. (who was reviled by the
Leaguers as a traitor to the true Church, and a secret friend to the
Huguenots); and thus prevent the French king from interfering in favor
of Queen Elizabeth. “With this object, the commander, Juan Iniguez
Moreo, was dispatched by him in the early part of April to the Duke of
Guise at Soissons. He met with complete success. He offered the Duke of
Guise, as soon as he took the field against Henry III., three hundred
thousand crowns, six thousand infantry, and twelve hundred pikemen, on
behalf of the king, his master, who would, in addition, withdraw his
embassador from the court of France, and accredit an envoy to the
Catholic party. A treaty was concluded on these conditions, and the Duke
of Guise entered Paris, where he was expected by the Leaguers, and
whence he expelled Henry III. on the 12th of May, by the insurrection of
the barricades. A fortnight after this insurrection, which reduced Henry
III. to impotence, and, to use the language of the Prince of Parma, did
not even ‘permit him to assist the Queen of England with his tears, as
he needed them all to weep over his own misfortunes,’ the Spanish fleet
left the Tagus and sailed toward the British isles.”

Meanwhile in England, from the sovereign on the throne to the peasant in
the cottage, all hearts and hands made ready to meet the imminent deadly
peril. A camp was formed at Tilbury; and there Elizabeth rode through
the ranks, encouraging her captains and her soldiers by her presence and
her words.

The ships of the royal navy at this time amounted to no more than
thirty-six; but the most serviceable merchant vessels were collected
from all the ports of the country; and the citizens of London, Bristol,
and the other great seats of commerce, showed as liberal a zeal in
equipping and manning vessels as the nobility and gentry displayed in
mustering forces by land. The seafaring population of the coast, of
every rank and station, was animated by the same ready spirit; and the
whole number of seamen who came forward to man the English fleet was
17,472. The number of the ships that were collected was 191; and the
total amount of their tonnage 31,985. There was one ship in the fleet
(the “Triumph”) of 1,100 tons, one of 1,000, one of 900, two of 800
each, three of 600, five of 500, five of 400, six of 300, six of 250,
twenty of 200, and the residue of inferior burden. Application was made
to the Dutch for assistance: and, as Stowe expresses it, “The Hollanders
came roundly in, with threescore sail, brave ships of war, fierce and
full of spleen, not so much for England’s aid, as in just occasion for
their own defense; these men foreseeing the greatness of the danger that
might ensue, if the Spaniards should chance to win the day and get the
mastery over them; in due regard whereof their manly courage was
inferior to none.”

The equipment of the Spanish forces consisted of 130 ships (besides
caravels), 3,165 cannon, 8,050 sailors, 2,088 galley-slaves, 18,973
soldiers, 1,382 noblemen, gentlemen, and attendants, 150 monks, with
Martin Alarco, vicar of the Inquisition--the whole under the command of
the Duke of Medina Sidonia.

While this huge armada was making ready in the southern ports of the
Spanish dominions, the Prince of Parma, with almost incredible toil and
skill, collected a squadron of warships at Dunkirk, and his flotilla of
other ships and of flat-bottomed boats for the transport to England of
the picked troops, which were designed to be the main instruments in
subduing England. Thousands of workmen were employed, night and day, in
the construction of these vessels, in the ports of Flanders and Brabant.

One hundred of the kind called hendes, built at Antwerp, Bruges, and
Ghent, and laden with provisions and ammunition, together with sixty
flat-bottomed boats, each capable of carrying thirty horses, were
brought, by means of canals and fosses, dug expressly for the purpose,
to Nieuport and Dunkirk. One hundred smaller vessels were equipped at
the former place, and thirty-two at Dunkirk, provided with twenty
thousand empty barrels, and with materials for making pontoons, for
stopping up the harbors, and raising forts and intrenchments. The army
which these vessels were designed to convey to England amounted to
thirty thousand strong, besides a body of four thousand cavalry,
stationed at Courtroi, composed chiefly of the ablest veterans of
Europe; invigorated by rest (the siege of Sluys having been the only
enterprise in which they were employed during the last campaign), and
excited by the hopes of plunder and the expectation of certain conquest.

Philip had been advised by the deserter, Sir William Stanley, not to
attack England in the first instance, but first to effect a landing and
secure a strong position in Ireland; his admiral, Santa Cruz, had
recommended him to make sure, in the first instance, of some large
harbor on the coast of Holland or Zealand, where the Armada, having
entered the Channel, might find shelter in case of storm, and whence it
could sail without difficulty for England; but Philip rejected both
these counsels, and directed that England itself should be made the
immediate object of attack; and on the 20th of May the Armada left the
Tagus, in the pomp and pride of supposed invincibility, and amid the
shouts of thousands, who believed that England was already conquered.
But steering to the northward, and before it was clear of the coast of
Spain, the Armada was assailed by a violent storm, and driven back with
considerable damage to the ports of Biscay and Galicia. It had, however,
sustained its heaviest loss before it left the Tagus, in the death of
the veteran admiral Santa Cruz, who had been destined to guide it
against England.

This experienced sailor, notwithstanding his diligence and success, had
been unable to keep pace with the impatient ardor of his master. Philip
II. had reproached him with his dilatoriness, and had said with
ungrateful harshness, “You make an ill return for all my kindness to
you.” These words cut the veteran’s heart, and proved fatal to Santa
Cruz. Overwhelmed with fatigue and grief, he sickened and died. Philip
II. had replaced him by Alonzo Perez de Gusman, duke of Medina Sidonia,
one of the most powerful of the Spanish grandees, but wholly unqualified
to command such an expedition. He had, however, as his lieutenants, two
seamen of proved skill and bravery, Juan de Martinez Recalde of Biscay,
and Miguel Orquendo of Guipuzcoa.

On the 12th of July the Armada, having completely refitted, sailed again
for the Channel, and reached it without obstruction or observation by
the English.

The design of the Spaniards was, that the Armada should give them, at
least for a time, the command of the sea, and that it should join the
squadron which Parma had collected off Calais. Then, escorted by an
overpowering naval force, Parma and his army were to embark in their
flotilla, and cross the sea to England, where they were to be landed,
together with the troops which the Armada brought from the ports of
Spain. The scheme was not dissimilar to one formed against England a
little more than two centuries afterward.

The orders of King Philip to the Duke of Medina Sidonia were, that he
should, on entering the Channel, keep near the French coast, and, if
attacked by the English ships, avoid an action, and steer on to Calais
Roads, where the Prince of Parma’s squadron was to join him. The hope of
surprising and destroying the English fleet in Plymouth led the Spanish
admiral to deviate from these orders, and to stand across to the English
shore; but, on finding that Lord Howard was coming out to meet him, he
resumed the original plan, and determined to bend his way steadily
toward Calais and Dunkirk, and to keep merely on the defensive against
such squadrons of the English as might come up with him.

It was on Saturday, the 20th of July, that Lord Effingham came in sight
of his formidable adversaries. The Armada was drawn up in form of a
crescent, which from horn to horn measured some seven miles. There was a
southwest wind; and before it the vast vessels sailed slowly on. The
English let them pass by; and then, following in the rear, commenced an
attack on them. A running fight now took place, in which some of the
best ships of the Spaniards were captured; many more received heavy
damage; while the English vessels, which took care not to close with
their huge antagonists, but availed themselves of their superior
celerity in tacking and maneuvering, suffered little comparative loss.

The Spanish admiral showed great judgment and firmness in following the
line of conduct that had been traced out for him; and on the 27th of
July he brought his fleet unbroken, though sorely distressed, to anchor
in Calais Roads. The Armada lay off Calais, with its largest ships
ranged outside, “like strong castles fearing no assault; the lesser
placed in the middle ward.” The English admiral could not attack them in
their position without great disadvantage, but on the night of the 29th
he sent eight fire-ships among them, with almost equal effect to that of
the fire-ships which the Greeks so often employed against the Turkish
fleets in their war of independence. The Spaniards cut their cables and
put to sea in confusion. One of the largest galeasses ran foul of
another vessel and was stranded. The rest of the fleet was scattered
about on the Flemish coast, and when the morning broke, it was with
difficulty and delay that they obeyed their admiral’s signal to range
themselves round him near Gravelines. Now was the golden opportunity for
the English to assail them, and prevent them from ever letting loose
Parma’s flotilla against England; and nobly was that opportunity used.
Drake and Fenner were the first English captains who attacked the
unwieldy leviathans: then came Fenton, Southwell, Burton, Cross, Raynor,
and then the lord-admiral, with Lord Thomas Howard and Lord Sheffield.
The Spaniards only thought of forming and keeping close together, and
were driven by the English past Dunkirk, and far away from the Prince of
Parma, who, in watching their defeat from the coast, must, as Drake
expressed it, have chafed like a bear robbed of her whelps. This was
indeed the last and the decisive battle between the two fleets.

Many of the largest Spanish ships were sunk or captured in the action of
this day. And at length the Spanish admiral, despairing of success,
fled northward with a southerly wind, in the hope of rounding Scotland,
and so returning to Spain without a further encounter with the English
fleet. Lord Effingham left a squadron to continue the blockade of the
Prince of Parma’s armament; but that wise general soon withdrew his
troops to more promising fields of action. Meanwhile the lord-admiral
himself and Drake chased the vincible Armada, as it was now termed, for
some distance northward; and then, when it seemed to bend away from the
Scotch coast toward Norway, it was thought best, in the words of Drake,
“to leave them to those boisterous and uncouth northern seas.”

The sufferings and losses which the unhappy Spaniards sustained in their
flight round Scotland and Ireland are well known. Of their whole Armada
only fifty-three shattered vessels brought back their beaten and wasted
crews to the Spanish coast which they had quitted in such pageantry and

At the death of Philip, which occurred on September 13, 1598, he left to
his son and successor, Philip III., an empire nominally undiminished,
but unwieldy and internally exhausted. Resources had been squandered.
The attention of the masses had been turned from industry to war. The
soldiery once regarded as invincible had lost their prestige in the
Netherland swamps. Enormous taxes, from which nobles and clergy were
exempt, were multiplied on the people. That being insufficient, Philip
III. proved his orthodoxy by completing the work. In 1609 the Moors, or
Moriscoes, as they were called, were ordered to quit the Peninsula
within three days, and the penalty of death was decreed against all who
failed to obey, and against any Christians who should shelter the

The edict was obeyed, but it was the ruin of Spain. The Moriscoes were
the backbone of the industrial population, not only in trade and
manufactures, but also in agriculture. The haughty and indolent
Spaniards had willingly left what they considered degrading employments
to their inferiors. The Moors had introduced into Spain the cultivation
of sugar, cotton, rice and silk. They had established a system of
irrigation which had given fertility to the soil. The province of
Valencia in their hands had become a model of agriculture to the rest of
Europe. In manufactures and commerce they had shown equal superiority to
the Christian inhabitants, and many of the products of Spain were
eagerly sought for by other countries. All these advantages were
sacrificed to an insane desire for religious unity.

The resources of Spain, already exhausted, never recovered from this
terrible blow. Philip III. died in March, 1621. His reign had not been
glorious or advantageous to Spain, but it contrasts favorably with those
of his successors. Spanish literature and art, which had received a
great impulse from the intercourse with foreign countries under previous
rulers, reached their zenith during his lifetime. Three writers have
obtained European fame--Cervantes, who produced the immortal “Don
Quixote” between 1605 and 1613, and two of the most fertile of romantic
dramatists, Lope de Vega and Calderon. In the domain of art, Spain
produced two of the greatest masters of the seventeenth century,
Velasquez and Murillo.

Philip II. was succeeded by Philip III. After him came Philip IV. and
then Charles II. Of these monarchs Mignet said: “Philip II. was merely a
king. Philip III. and Philip IV. were not kings, and Charles II. was not
even a man.” The death of the latter precipitated the War of the
Succession, the military operations of which were rendered famous by the
military exploits of Eugene and Marlborough. But this is not the place
to recite them. The chief scenes of hostilities were the Netherlands,
Germany and Italy, and their narration belongs more properly to the
histories of these lands. Suffice it to say that by the Treaty of
Utrecht war was concluded in 1711, and Philip V., a Bourbon, second
grandson of Louis XIV., was, in accordance with the will of Charles II.,
acknowledged King of Spain. By the same treaty England gained Gibraltar,
while the Spanish Netherlands, Milan, Naples and Sardinia were ceded to

With the accession of a Bourbon, Spain entered into a new period of
history, during which it once more played a part in the politics of
Europe, as also in its wars; those, for instance, of the Polish and
Austrian successions--the country meanwhile being additionally embroiled
with England.

Philip V. was succeeded by Ferdinand VI., and the latter by Charles
III., whose death, together with the accession of Charles IV., were
contemporary with the French Revolution. The execution of Louis XVI.
made a profound impression on a country where loyalty was a
superstition. Charles IV. was roused to demand vengeance for the insult
to his family. Godoy, the Prime Minister, could but follow the national
impulse; and Spain became a member of the first coalition against
France. But the two campaigns which ensued provoked the contempt of
Europe. They form a catalogue of defeats. Under the circumstances it is
no wonder that Spain followed the example of Prussia and concluded a
treaty of peace.

The next event of importance was Napoleon’s famous coup de main--the
seizure of the Spanish royal family at Bayonne--the jugglery which he
performed with the crown, its transference by him from Ferdinand VII.
(son of Charles IV.) to Joseph Bonaparte, and the revolt of the South
American colonies which that act produced.

Then came the restoration of Spanish independence through England’s aid;
Wellington’s famous campaign; the battles of Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos;
the entry into Madrid; the retreat of Joseph to Valencia; Napoleon’s
crushing defeat at Leipzig, and Ferdinand’s return from captivity at

The circumstances through which these last-mentioned events were induced
or precipitated, and which are collectively known as the Peninsular War,
originated at the moment when Napoleon was practically master of Europe.
Its whole face was changed. Prussia was occupied by French troops.
Holland was changed into a monarchy by a simple decree of the French
emperor, and its crown bestowed on his brother Louis. Another brother,
Jerome, became King of Westphalia, a new realm built up out of the
electorates of Hesse-Cassel and Hanover. A third brother, Joseph, was
made King of Naples; while the rest of Italy, and even Rome itself, was
annexed to the French empire. It was the hope of effectually crushing
the world-power of Britain which drove him to his worst aggression, the
aggression upon Spain.

Napoleon acted with his usual subtlety. In October, 1807, France and
Spain agreed to divide Portugal between them; and on the advance of
their forces the reigning House of Braganza fled helplessly from Lisbon
to a refuge in Brazil. But the seizure of Portugal was only a prelude to
the seizure of Spain. Charles IV., whom a riot in his capital drove at
this moment to abdication, and his son, Ferdinand VII., were drawn to
Bayonne in May, 1808, and forced to resign their claims to the Spanish
crown; while a French army entered Madrid and proclaimed Napoleon’s
brother Joseph king of Spain.

This high-handed act of aggression was hardly completed when Spain rose
as one man against the stranger; and desperate as the effort of its
people seemed, the news of the rising was welcomed throughout England
with a burst of enthusiastic joy. “Hitherto,” cried Sheridan, a leader
of the Whig opposition, “Bonaparte has contended with princes without
dignity, numbers without ardor, or peoples without patriotism. He has
yet to learn what it is to combat a people who are animated by one
spirit against him.” Tory and Whig alike held that “never had so happy
an opportunity existed in Britain to strike a bold stroke for the rescue
of the world”; and Canning at once resolved to change the system of
desultory descents on colonies and sugar islands for a vigorous warfare
in the Peninsula.

The furious and bloody struggle which ensued found its climax at
Vittoria, but it would be difficult to find in the whole history of war
a more thrilling chapter than that which tells of the six great
campaigns of which the war itself was composed.

The Peninsular War was perhaps the least selfish conflict ever waged. It
was not a war of aggrandizement or of conquest. It was fought to deliver
Europe from the despotism of Napoleon. At its close the fleets of Great
Britain rode triumphant, and in the Peninsula between 1808-14 her land
forces fought and won nineteen pitched battles, made or sustained ten
fierce and bloody sieges, took four great fortresses, twice expelled the
French from Portugal and once from Spain. Great Britain expended in
these campaigns more than one hundred million pounds sterling on her own
troops, besides subsidizing the forces of Spain and Portugal. This
“nation of shopkeepers” proved that when kindled to action it could wage
war on a scale and in a fashion that might have moved the wonder of
Alexander or of Cæsar, and from motives too lofty for either Cæsar or
Alexander so much as to comprehend. It is worth while to tell afresh the
story of some of the more picturesque incidents in that great strife.

On April 6, 1812, Badajos was stormed by Wellington; and the story forms
one of the most tragical and splendid incidents in the military history
of the world. Of “the night of horrors at Badajos,” Napier says,
“posterity can scarcely be expected to credit the tale.” No tale,
however, is better authenticated, or, as an example of what disciplined
human valor is capable of achieving, better deserves to be told.
Wellington was preparing for his great forward movement into Spain, the
campaign which led to Salamanca, the battle in which “forty thousand
Frenchmen were beaten in forty minutes.” As a preliminary he had to
capture, under the vigilant eyes of Soult and Marmont, the two great
border fortresses, Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos. He had, to use Napier’s
phrase, “jumped with both feet” on the first-named fortress, and
captured it in twelve days with a loss of twelve hundred men and ninety

But Badajos was a still harder task. The city stands on a rocky ridge
which forms the last spur of the Toledo range, and is of extraordinary
strength. The river Rivillas falls almost at right angles into the
Guadiana, and in the angle formed by their junction stands Badajos, oval
in shape, girdled with elaborate defenses, with the Guadiana, five
hundred yards wide, as its defense to the north, the Rivillas serving as
a wet ditch to the west, and no less than five great fortified
outposts--Saint Roque, Christoval, Picurina, Pardaleras, and a fortified
bridge-head across the Guadiana--as the outer zone of its defenses.
Twice the English had already assailed Badajos, but assailed it in vain.
It was now held by a garrison five thousand strong, under a soldier,
General Phillipson, with a real genius for defense, and the utmost art
had been employed in adding to its defenses. On the other hand,
Wellington had no means of transport and no battery train, and had to
make all his preparations under the keen-eyed vigilance of the French.
Perhaps the strangest collection of artillery ever employed in a great
siege was that which Wellington collected from every available quarter
and used at Badajos. Of the fifty-two pieces, some dated from the days
of Philip II. and the Spanish Armada, some were cast in the reign of
Philip III., others in that of John IV. of Portugal, who reigned in
1640; there were 24-pounders of George II.’s day, and Russian naval
guns; the bulk of the extraordinary medley being obsolete brass engines
which required from seven to ten minutes to cool between each discharge.

Wellington, however, was strong in his own warlike genius and in the
quality of the troops he commanded. He employed eighteen thousand men in
the siege, and it may well be doubted whether--if we put the question of
equipment aside--a more perfect fighting instrument than the force under
his orders ever existed. The men were veterans, but the officers on the
whole were young, so there was steadiness in the ranks and fire in the
leading. Hill and Graham covered the siege, Picton and Barnard, Kempt
and Colville led the assaults. The trenches were held by the third,
fourth, and fifth divisions, and by the famous light division. Of the
latter it has been said that the Macedonian phalanx of Alexander the
Great, the Tenth Legion of Cæsar, the famous Spanish infantry of Alva,
or the iron soldiers who followed Cortes to Mexico, did not exceed it in
warlike quality. Wellington’s troops, too, had a personal grudge against
Badajos, and had two defeats to avenge. Perhaps no siege in history, as
a matter of fact, ever witnessed either more furious valor in the
assault, or more of cool and skilled courage in the defense. The siege
lasted exactly twenty days, and cost the besiegers five thousand men, or
an average loss of two hundred and fifty per day. It was waged
throughout in stormy weather, with the rivers steadily rising, and the
tempests perpetually blowing; yet the thunder of the attack never paused
for an instant.

Wellington’s engineers attacked the city at the eastern end of the oval,
where the Rivillas served it as a gigantic wet ditch; and the Picurina,
a fortified hill, ringed by a ditch fourteen feet deep, a rampart
sixteen feet high, and a zone of mines, acted as an outwork. Wellington,
curiously enough, believed in night attacks, a sure proof of his faith
in the quality of the men he commanded; and on the eighth night of the
siege, at nine o’clock, five hundred men of the third division were
suddenly flung on the Picurina. The fort broke into a ring of flame, by
the light of which the dark figures of the stormers were seen leaping
with fierce hardihood into the ditch and struggling madly up the
ramparts, or tearing furiously at the palisades. But the defenses were
strong, and the assailants fell literally in scores.

Napier tells how “the axmen of the light division, compassing the fort
like prowling wolves,” discovered the gate at the rear, and so broke
into the fort. The engineer officer who led the attack declares that
“the place would never have been taken had it not been for the coolness
of these men” in absolutely walking round the fort to its rear,
discovering the gate, and hewing it down under a tempest of bullets. The
assault lasted an hour, and in that period, out of the five hundred men
who attacked, no less than three hundred, with nineteen officers, were
killed or wounded! Three men out of every five in the attacking force,
that is, were disabled, and yet they won!

There followed twelve days of furious industry, of trenches pushed
tirelessly forward through mud and wet, and of cannonading that only
ceased when the guns grew too hot to be used. Captain MacCarthy, of the
Fiftieth Regiment, has left a curious little monograph on the siege,
full of incidents, half tragic and half amusing, but which show the
temper of Wellington’s troops. Thus he tells how an engineer officer,
when marking out the ground for a breaching-battery very near the wall,
which was always lined with French soldiers in eager search of human
targets, “used to challenge them to prove the perfection of their
shooting by lifting up the skirts of his coat in defiance several times
in the course of his survey; driving in his stakes and measuring his
distances with great deliberation, and concluding by an extra shake of
his coat-tails and an ironical bow before he stepped under shelter!”

On the night of April 6, Wellington determined to assault. No less than
seven attacks were to be delivered. Two of them--on the bridge-head
across the Guadiana and on the Pardaleras--were mere feints. But on the
extreme right Picton with the third division was to cross the Rivillas
and escalade the castle, whose walls rose, time-stained and grim, from
eighteen to twenty-four feet high. Leith with the fifth division was to
attack the opposite or western extremity of the town, the bastion of San
Vincente, where the glacis was mined, the ditch deep, and the scarp
thirty feet high. Against the actual breaches Colville and Andrew
Barnard were to lead the light division and the fourth division, the
former attacking the bastion of Santa Maria and the latter the Trinidad.
The hour was fixed for ten o’clock, and the story of that night attack,
as told in Napier’s immortal prose, is one of the great battle-pictures
of literature; and any one who tries to tell the tale will find himself
slipping insensibly into Napier’s cadences.

The night was black; a strange silence lay on rampart and trench, broken
from time to time by the deep voices of the sentinels that proclaimed
all was well in Badajos. “Sentinelle garde à vous,” the cry of the
sentinels, was translated by the British private as “All’s well in
Badahoo!” A lighted carcass thrown from the castle discovered Picton’s
men standing in ordered array, and compelled them to attack at once.
MacCarthy, who acted as guide across the tangle of wet trenches and the
narrow bridge that spanned the Rivillas, has left an amusing account of
the scene. At one time Picton declared MacCarthy was leading them wrong,
and, drawing his sword, swore he would cut him down. The column reached
the trench, however, at the foot of the castle walls, and was instantly
overwhelmed with the fire of the besieged. MacCarthy says we can only
picture the scene by “supposing that all the stars, planets, and meteors
of the firmament, with innumerable moons emitting smaller ones in their
course, were descending on the heads of the besiegers.” MacCarthy
himself, a typical and gallant Irishman, addressed his general with the
exultant remark, “‘Tis a glorious night, sir--a glorious night!” and,
rushing forward to the head of the stormers, shouted, “Up with the
ladders!” The five ladders were raised, the troops swarmed up, an
officer leading, but the first files were at once crushed by cannon
fire, and the ladders slipped into the angle of the abutments. “Dreadful
their fall,” records MacCarthy of the slaughtered stormers, “and
appalling their appearance at daylight.” One ladder remained, and, a
private soldier leading, the eager red-coated crowd swarmed up it. The
brave fellow leading was shot as soon as his head appeared above the
parapet; but the next man to him--again a private--leaped over the
parapet, and was followed quickly by others, and this thin stream of
desperate men climbed singly, and in the teeth of the flashing musketry,
up that solitary ladder, and carried the castle.

In the meanwhile the fourth and light divisions had flung themselves
with cool and silent speed on the breaches. The storming party of each
division leaped into the ditch. It was mined, the fuse was kindled, and
the ditch, crowded with eager soldiery, became in a moment a sort of
flaming crater, and the storming parties, five hundred strong, were in
one fierce explosion dashed to pieces. In the light of that dreadful
flame the whole scene became visible--the black ramparts, crowded with
dark figures and glittering arms, on the one side; on the other, the red
columns of the British, broad and deep, moving steadily forward like a
stream of human lava. The light division stood at the brink of the
smoking ditch for an instant, amazed at the sight. “Then,” says Napier,
“with a shout that matched even the sound of the explosion,” they leaped
into it and swarmed up to the breach. The fourth division came running
up and descended with equal fury but the ditch opposite the Trinidad was
filled with water; the head of the division leaped into it, and, as
Napier puts it, “about one hundred of the fusiliers, the men of Albuera,
perished there.” The breaches were impassable. Across the top of the
great slope of broken wall glittered a fringe of sword-blades,
sharp-pointed, keen-edged on both sides, fixed in ponderous beams
chained together and set deep in the ruins. For ten feet in front the
ascent was covered with loose planks, studded with sharp iron points.
Behind the glittering edge of sword-blades stood the solid ranks of the
French, each man supplied with three muskets, and their fire scourged
the British ranks like a tempest.

Hundreds had fallen, hundreds were still falling; but the British clung
doggedly to the lower slopes, and every few minutes an officer would
leap forward with a shout, a swarm of men would instantly follow him,
and, like leaves blown by a whirlwind, they swept up the ascent. But
under the incessant fire of the French, the assailants melted away. One
private reached the sword-blades, and actually thrust his head beneath
them till his brains were beaten out, so desperate was his resolve to
get into Badajos. The breach, as Napier describes it, “yawning and
glittering with steel, resembled the mouth of a huge dragon belching
forth smoke and flame.” But for two hours, and until two thousand men
had fallen, the stubborn British persisted in their attacks. Currie, of
the 52d, a cool and most daring soldier, found a narrow ramp beyond the
Santa Maria breach only half-ruined; he forced his way back through the
tumult and carnage to where Wellington stood watching the scene,
obtained an unbroken battalion from the reserve, and led it toward the
broken ramp. But his men were caught in the whirling madness of the
ditch and swallowed up in the tumult. Nicholas, of the engineers, and
Shaw of the 43d, with some fifty soldiers, actually climbed into the
Santa Maria bastion, and from thence tried to force their way into the
breach. Every man was shot down except Shaw, who stood alone on the
bastion. “With inexpressible coolness he looked at his watch, said it
was too late to carry the breaches,” and then leaped down! The British
could not penetrate the breach; but they would not retreat. They could
only die where they stood. The buglers of the reserve were sent to the
crest of the glacis to sound the retreat; the troops in the ditch would
not believe the signal to be genuine, and struck their own buglers who
attempted to repeat it. “Gathering in dark groups, and leaning on their
muskets,” says Napier, “they looked up in sullen desperation at
Trinidad, while the enemy, stepping out on the ramparts, and aiming
their shots by the light of fire-balls, which they threw over, asked as
their victims fell, ‘Why they did not come into Badajos.’”

All this while, curiously enough, Picton was actually in Badajos, and
held the castle securely, but made no attempt to clear the breach. On
the extreme west of the town, however, at the bastion of San Vincente,
the fifth division made an attack as desperate as that which was failing
at the breaches. When the stormers actually reached the bastion, the
Portuguese battalions, who formed part of the attack, dismayed by the
tremendous fire which broke out on them, flung down their ladders and
fled. The British, however, snatched the ladders up, forced the
barrier, jumped into the ditch, and tried to climb the walls. These were
thirty feet high, and the ladders were too short. A mine was sprung in
the ditch under the soldiers’ feet; beams of wood, stones, broken
wagons, and live shells were poured upon their heads from above. Showers
of grape from the flank swept the ditch.

The stubborn soldiers, however, discovered a low spot in the rampart,
placed three ladders against it, and climbed with reckless valor. The
first man was pushed up by his comrades; he, in turn, dragged others up,
and the unconquerable British at length broke through and swept the
bastion. The tumult still stormed and raged at the eastern breaches,
where the men of the light and fourth division were dying sullenly, and
the men of the fifth division marched at speed across the town to take
the great eastern breach in the rear. The streets were empty, but the
silent houses were bright with lamps. The men of the fifth pressed on;
they captured mules carrying ammunition to the breaches, and the French,
startled by the tramp of the fast-approaching column, and finding
themselves taken in the rear, fled. The light and fourth divisions broke
through the gap hitherto barred by flame and steel, and Badajos was won!

In that dreadful night assault the English lost three thousand five
hundred men. “Let it be considered,” says Napier, “that this frightful
carnage took place in the space of less than a hundred yards
square--that the slain died not all suddenly, nor by one manner of
death--that some perished by steel, some by shot, some by water; that
some were crushed and mangled by heavy weights, some trampled upon,
some dashed to atoms by the fiery explosions--that for hours this
destruction was endured without shrinking, and the town was won at last.
Let these things be considered, and it must be admitted a British army
bears with it an awful power. And false would it be to say the French
were feeble men. The garrison stood and fought manfully and with good
discipline, behaving worthily. Shame there was none on any side. Yet who
shall do justice to the bravery of the British soldiers or the noble
emulation of the officers?... No age, no nation, ever sent forth braver
troops to battle than those who stormed Badajos.”

In addition to Badajos, the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo and of San Sebastian
deserve mention. The annals of strife nowhere record assaults more
daring than those which raged in turn around these three great
fortresses. Of them all that of Badajos was the most picturesque and
bloody; that of San Sebastian the most sullen and exasperating; that of
Ciudad Rodrigo the swiftest and most brilliant. A great siege tests the
fighting quality of an army as nothing else can test it. In the night
watches in the trenches, in the dogged toil of the batteries, and the
crowded perils of the breach, all the frippery and much of the real
discipline of an army dissolves. The soldiers fall back upon what may be
called the primitive fighting qualities--the hardihood of the individual
soldier, the daring with which the officers will lead, the dogged
loyalty with which the men will follow. As an illustration of the
warlike qualities in a race by which empire has been achieved, nothing
better can be desired than the story of how the breaches were won at
Ciudad Rodrigo.

At the end of 1811 the English and the French were watching each other
jealously across the Spanish border. The armies of Marmont and of Soult,
sixty-seven thousand strong, lay within touch of each other, barring
Wellington’s entrance into Spain. Wellington, with thirty-five thousand
men, of whom not more than ten thousand men were British, lay within
sight of the Spanish frontier. It was the winter time. Wellington’s army
was wasted by sickness, his horses were dying of mere starvation, his
men had received no pay for three months, and his muleteers none for
eight months. He had no siege train, his regiments were ragged and
hungry, and the French generals confidently reckoned the British army
as, for the moment at least, une quantite negligeable.

And yet at that precise moment, Wellington, subtle and daring, was
meditating a leap upon the great frontier fortress of Ciudad Rodrigo, in
the Spanish province of Salamanca. Its capture would give him a safe
base of operations against Spain; it was the great frontier place
d’armes for the French; the whole siege equipage and stores of the army
of Portugal were contained in it. The problem of how, in the depth of
winter, without materials for a siege, to snatch a place so strong from
under the very eyes of two armies, each stronger than his own, was a
problem which might have taxed the warlike genius of a Cæsar. But
Wellington accomplished it with a combination of subtlety and audacity
simply marvelous.

He kept the secret of his design so perfectly that his own engineers
never suspected it, and his adjutant-general, Murray, went home on leave
without dreaming anything was going to happen. Wellington collected
artillery ostensibly for the purpose of arming Almeida, but the guns
were transshipped at sea and brought secretly to the mouth of the Douro.
No less than eight hundred mule-carts were constructed without anybody
guessing their purpose. Wellington, while these preparations were on
foot, was keenly watching Marmont and Soult, till he saw that they were
lulled into a state of mere yawning security, and then, in Napier’s
expressive phrase, he “instantly jumped with both feet upon Ciudad

This famous fortress, in shape, roughly resembles a triangle with the
angles truncated. The base, looking to the south, is covered by the
Agueda, a river given to sudden inundations; the fortifications were
strong and formidably armed; as outworks it had to the east the great
fortified Convent of San Francisco, to the west a similar building
called Santa Cruz; while almost parallel with the northern face rose two
rocky ridges called the Great and Small Teson, the nearest within six
hundred yards of the city ramparts, and crowned by a formidable redoubt
called Francisco. The siege began on January 8. The soil was rocky and
covered with snow, the nights were black, the weather bitter. The men
lacked intrenching tools. They had to encamp on the side of the Agueda
furthest from the city, and ford that river every time the trenches were
relieved. The 1st, 3d, and light divisions formed the attacking force;
each division held the trenches in turn for twenty-four hours. Let the
reader imagine what degree of hardihood it took to wade in the gray and
bitter winter dawn through a half-frozen river, and, without fire or
warm food, and under a ceaseless rain of shells from the enemy’s guns,
to toil in the frozen trenches, or to keep watch, while the icicles
hung from eyebrow and beard, over the edge of the battery for
twenty-four hours in succession.

Nothing in this great siege is more wonderful than the fierce speed with
which Wellington urged his operations. Massena, who had besieged and
captured the city the year before in the height of summer, spent a month
in bombarding it before he ventured to assault. Wellington broke ground
on January 8, under a tempest of mingled hail and rain; he stormed it on
the night of the 19th.

He began operations by leaping on the strong work that crowned the Great
Teson the very night the siege began. Two companies from each regiment
of the light division were detailed by the officer of the day, Colonel
Colborne, for the assault. Colborne (afterward Lord Seaton), a cool and
gallant soldier, called his officers together in a group and explained
with great minuteness how they were to attack. He then lanched his men
against the redoubt with a vehemence so swift that, to those who watched
the scene under the light of a wintry moon, the column of redcoats, like
the thrust of a crimson sword-blade, spanned the ditch, shot up the
glacis, and broke through the parapet with a single movement. The
accidental explosion of a French shell burst the gate open, and the
remainder of the attacking party instantly swept through it. There was
fierce musketry fire and a tumult of shouting for a moment or two, but
in twenty minutes from Colborne’s lanching his attack every Frenchman in
the redoubt was killed, wounded, or a prisoner.

The fashion in which the gate was blown open was very curious. A French
sergeant was in the act of throwing a live shell upon the storming party
in the ditch, when he was struck by an English bullet. The lighted shell
fell from his hands within the parapet, was kicked away by the nearest
French in mere self-preservation; it rolled toward the gate, exploded,
burst it open, and instantly the British broke in.

For ten days a desperate artillery duel raged between the besiegers and
the besieged. The parallels were resolutely pushed on in spite of rocky
soil, broken tools, bitter weather, and the incessant pelting of the
French guns. The temper of the British troops is illustrated by an
incident which George Napier--the youngest of the three
Napiers--relates. The three brothers were gallant and remarkable
soldiers. Charles Napier in India and elsewhere made history; William,
in his wonderful tale of the Peninsular War, wrote history; and George,
if he had not the literary genius of the one nor the strategic skill of
the other, was a most gallant soldier. “I was a field-officer of the
trenches,” he says, “when a 13-inch shell from the town fell in the
midst of us. I called to the men to lie down flat, and they instantly
obeyed orders, except one of them, an Irishman and an old marine, but a
most worthless drunken dog, who trotted up to the shell, the fuse of
which was still burning, and striking it with his spade, knocked the
fuse out; then taking the immense shell in his hands, brought it to me,
saying, ‘There she is for you, now, yer ’anner. I’ve knocked the life
out of the crater.’”

The besieged brought fifty heavy guns to reply to the thirty light
pieces by which they were assailed, and day and night the bellow of
eighty pieces boomed sullenly over the doomed city and echoed faintly
back from the nearer hills, while the walls crashed to the stroke of the
bullet. The English fire made up by fierceness and accuracy for what it
lacked in weight; but the sap made no progress, the guns showed signs of
being worn out, and, although two apparent breaches had been made, the
counterscarp was not destroyed. Yet Wellington determined to attack,
and, in his characteristic fashion, to attack by night. The siege had
lasted ten days, and Marmont, with an army stronger than his own, was
lying within four marches. That he had not appeared already on the scene
was wonderful.

In a general order issued on the evening of the 19th Wellington wrote,
“Ciudad Rodrigo must be stormed this evening.” The great breach was a
sloping gap in the wall at its northern angle, about a hundred feet
wide. The French had crowned it with two guns loaded with grape, the
slope was strewn with bombs, hand-grenades and bags of powder; a great
mine pierced it beneath; a deep ditch had been cut between the breach
and the adjoining ramparts, and these were crowded with riflemen. The
third division, under General Mackinnon, was to attack the breach, its
forlorn hope being led by Ensign Mackie, its storming party by General
Mackinnon himself. The lesser breach was a tiny gap, scarcely twenty
feet wide, to the left of the great breach; this was to be attacked by
the light division, under Craufurd, its forlorn hope of twenty-five men
being led by Gurwood, and its storming party by George Napier. General
Pack, with a Portuguese brigade, was to make a sham attack on the
eastern face, while a fourth attack was to be made on the southern front
by a company of the 83d and some Portuguese troops. In the storming
party of the 83d were the Earl of March, afterward Duke of Richmond;
Lord Fitzroy Somerset, afterward Lord Raglan; and the Prince of
Orange--all volunteers without Wellington’s knowledge!

At seven o’clock a curious silence fell suddenly on the battered city
and the engirdling trenches. Not a light gleamed from the frowning
parapets, not a murmur arose from the blackened trenches. Suddenly a
shout broke out on the right of the English attack; it ran, a wave of
stormy sound, along the line of the trenches. The men who were to attack
the great breach leaped into the open. In a moment the space between the
hostile lines was covered with the stormers, and the gloomy, half-seen
face of the great fortress broke into a tempest of fire.

Nothing could be finer than the vehement courage of the assault, unless
it were the cool and steady fortitude of the defense. Swift as was the
upward rush of the stormers, the race of the 5th, 77th, and 94th
regiments was almost swifter. Scorning to wait for the ladders, they
leaped into the great ditch, outpaced even the forlorn hope, and pushed
vehemently up the great breach, while their red ranks were torn by shell
and shot. The fire, too, ran through the tangle of broken stones over
which they climbed; the hand-grenades and powder-bags by which it was
strewn exploded. The men were walking on fire! Yet the attack could not
be denied. The Frenchmen--shooting, stabbing, yelling--were driven
behind their intrenchments. There the fire of the houses commanding the
breach came to their help, and they made a gallant stand. “None would go
back on either side, and yet the British could not get forward, and men
and officers falling in heaps choked up the passage, which from minute
to minute was raked with grape from two guns flanking the top of the
breach at the distance of a few yards. Thus striving, and trampling
alike upon the dead and the wounded, these brave men maintained the

It was the attack on the smaller breach which really carried Ciudad
Rodrigo; and George Napier, who led it, has left a graphic narrative of
the exciting experiences of that dreadful night. The light division was
to attack, and Craufurd, with whom Napier was a favorite, gave him
command of the storming party. He was to ask for one hundred volunteers
from each of the three British regiments--the 43d, 52d, and the rifle
corps--in the division. Napier halted these regiments just as they had
forded the bitterly cold river on their way to the trenches. “Soldiers,”
he said, “I want one hundred men from each regiment to form the storming
party which is to lead the light division to-night. Those who will go
with me come forward!”

Instantly there was a rush forward of the whole division, and Napier had
to take his three hundred men out of a tumult of nearly one thousand
five hundred candidates. He formed them into three companies, under
Captains Ferguson, Jones, and Mitchell. Gurwood, of the 52d, led the
forlorn hope, consisting of twenty-five men and two sergeants.
Wellington himself came to the trench and showed Napier and Colborne,
through the gloom of the early night, the exact position of the breach.
A staff-officer, looking on, said, “Your men are not loaded. Why don’t
you make them load?” Napier replied, “If we don’t do the business with
the bayonet we shall not do it at all. I shall not load.”--“Let him
alone,” said Wellington; “let him go his own way.” Picton had adopted
the same grim policy with the third division. As each regiment passed
him, filing into the trenches, his injunction was, “No powder! We’ll do
the thing with the _could_ iron.”

A party of Portuguese carrying bags filled with grass were to run with
the storming party and throw the bags into the ditch, as the leap was
too deep for the men. But the Portuguese hesitated, the tumult of the
attack on the great breach suddenly broke on the night, and the forlorn
hope went running up, leaped into the ditch, a depth of eleven feet, and
clambered up the steep slope beyond, while Napier with his stormers came
with a run behind them. In the dark for a moment the breach was lost,
but found again, and up the steep quarry of broken stone the attack

About two-thirds of the way up, Napier’s arm was smashed by a
grape-shot, and he fell. His men, checked for a moment, lifted their
muskets to the gap above them, whence the French were firing vehemently,
and forgetting their pieces were unloaded, snapped them. “Push on with
the bayonet, men!” shouted Napier, as he lay bleeding. The officers
leaped to the front, the men with a stern shout followed; they were
crushed to a front of not more than three or four. They had to climb
without firing a shot in reply up to the muzzles of the French muskets.

But nothing could stop the men of the light division. A 24-pounder was
placed across the narrow gap in the ramparts; the stormers leaped over
it, and the 43d and 52d, coming up in sections abreast, followed. The
43d wheeled to the right toward the great breach, the 52d to the left,
sweeping the ramparts as they went.

Meanwhile the other two attacks had broken into the town; but at the
great breach the dreadful fight still raged, until the 43d, coming
swiftly along the ramparts, and brushing all opposition aside, took the
defense in the rear. The British there had, as a matter of fact, at that
exact moment pierced the French defense. The two guns that scourged the
breach had wrought deadly havoc among the stormers, and a sergeant and
two privates of the 88th--Irishmen all, and whose names deserve to be
preserved--Brazel, Kelly, and Swan--laid down their firelocks that they
might climb more lightly, and, armed only with their bayonets, forced
themselves through the embrasure among the French gunners. They were
furiously attacked, and Swan’s arm was hewed off by a saber stroke; but
they stopped the service of the gun, slew five or six of the French
gunners, and held the post until the men of the 5th, climbing behind
them, broke into the battery.

So Ciudad Rodrigo was won, and its governor surrendered his sword to the
youthful lieutenant leading the forlorn hope of the light division, who,
with smoke-blackened face, torn uniform, and staggering from a dreadful
wound, still kept at the head of his men.

In the eleven days of the siege Wellington lost one thousand three
hundred men and officers, out of whom six hundred and fifty men and
sixty officers were struck down on the slopes of the breaches. Two
notable soldiers died in the attack--Craufurd, the famous leader of the
light division, as he brought his men up to the lesser breach; and
Mackinnon, who commanded a brigade of the third division, at the great
breach. Mackinnon was a gallant Highlander, a soldier of great promise,
beloved by his men. His “children,” as he called them, followed him up
the great breach till the bursting of a French mine destroyed all the
leading files, including their general. Craufurd was buried in the
lesser breach itself, and Mackinnon in the great breach--fitting graves
for soldiers so gallant.

Alison says that with the rush of the English stormers up the breaches
of Ciudad Rodrigo “began the fall of the French empire.” That siege, so
fierce and brilliant, was, as a matter of fact, the first of that
swift-following succession of strokes which drove the French in ruin out
of Spain, and it coincided in point of time with the turn of the tide
against Napoleon in Russia.

But, as already noted, the climax of the war occurred at Vittoria.
Wellington, overtaking the French at that place, inflicted on them a
defeat which drove in utter rout one hundred and twenty thousand veteran
troops from Spain. There is no more brilliant chapter in military
history; and, at its close, to quote Napier’s clarion-like sentences,
“the English general, emerging from the chaos of the Peninsular
struggle, stood on the summit of the Pyrenees a recognized conqueror.
From those lofty pinnacles the clangor of his trumpets pealed clear and
loud, and the splendor of his genius appeared as a flaming beacon to
warring nations.”

The victory not only freed Spain from its invaders; it restored the
spirit of the allies. The close of the armistice was followed by a union
of Austria with the forces of Prussia and the Czar; and in October a
final overthrow of Napoleon at Leipzig forced the French army to fall
back in rout across the Rhine. The war now hurried to its close. Though
held at bay for a while by the sieges of San Sebastian and Pampeluna, as
well as by an obstinate defense of the Pyrenees, Wellington succeeded in
the very month of the triumph at Leipzig in winning a victory on the
Bidassoa which enabled him to enter France. He was soon followed by the
allies. On the last day of 1813 their forces crossed the Rhine; and a
third of France passed, without opposition, into their hands. For two
months more Napoleon maintained a wonderful struggle with a handful of
raw conscripts against their overwhelming numbers; while in the south,
Soult, forced from his intrenched camp near Bayonne and defeated at
Orthes, fell back before Wellington on Toulouse. Here their two armies
met in April in a stubborn and indecisive engagement. But though neither
leader knew it, the war was even then at an end. The struggle of
Napoleon himself had ended at the close of March with the surrender of
Paris; and the submission of the capital was at once followed by the
abdication of the emperor and the return of Ferdinand.

After the convulsions it had endured, Spain required a period of firm
but conciliatory government; but the ill-fate of the country gave the
throne at this crisis to the worst of her Bourbon kings. Ferdinand VII.
had never possessed the good qualities which popular credulity had
assigned to him, and he had learned nothing in his four years’ captivity
except an aptitude for lying and intrigue. He had no conception of the
duties of a ruler; his public conduct was regulated by pride and
superstition, and his private life was stained by the grossest sensual

But Spain was not allowed to work out its own salvation. Europe was
dominated at this time by the Holy Alliance, which disguised a
resolution to repress popular liberties and to maintain despotism under
a pretended zeal for piety, justice and brotherly love. At the Congress
of Verona (October, 1822), France, Austria, Russia and Prussia agreed
upon armed intervention in Spain, in spite of the protest of Canning on
the part of England. Spain was to be called upon to alter her
constitution and to grant greater liberty to the king, and if an
unsatisfactory answer were received France was authorized to take active
measures. The demand was unhesitatingly refused, and a French army,
100,000 strong, at once entered Spain under the Duke of Angouleme
(April, 1823). No effective resistance was made, and Madrid was entered
by the invaders (May 23). The Cortes, however, had carried off the king
to Seville, whence they again retreated to Cadiz. The bombardment of
that city terminated the revolution and Ferdinand was released (October
1). His first act was to revoke everything that had been done since
1819. The Inquisition was not restored, but the secular tribunals took a
terrible revenge upon the leaders of the rebellion. The protest of the
Duke of Angouleme against these cruelties was unheeded. Even the fear of
revolt, the last check upon despotism, was removed by the presence of
the French army, which remained in Spain till 1827. But Spain had to pay
for the restoration of the royal absolutism, as Canning backed up his
protest against the intervention of France by acknowledging the
independence of the Spanish colonies.

Ferdinand VII. was enabled to finish his worthless and disastrous reign
in comparative peace. In 1829 he married a fourth wife, Maria Christina
of Naples, and at the same time he issued a “Pragmatic Sanction”
abolishing the Salic law in Spain. No one expected any practical results
from this edict, but a formal protest was made against it by the king’s
brothers, Carlos and Francisco, and also by the French and Neapolitan
Bourbons. In the next year, however, the queen gave birth to a daughter,
Isabella, who was proclaimed as queen on her father’s death in 1833,
while her mother undertook the office of regent.

Don Carlos at once asserted his intention of maintaining the Salic law,
and rallied round him all the supporters of absolutism, especially the
inhabitants of the Basque Provinces. Christina was compelled to rely
upon the Liberals, and to conciliate them by the grant of a
constitution, the estatuto real, which established two chambers chosen
by indirect election. But this constitution, drawn up under the
influence of Louis Philippe of France, failed to satisfy the advanced
Liberals, and the Christinos split into two parties, the Moderados and
Progresistas. In 1836 the latter party extorted from the regent the
revival of the constitution of 1812. All this time the government was
involved in a desperate struggle with the Carlists, who at first gained
considerable successes under Zumalacarregui and Cabrera. But the death
of Zumalacarregui in 1835 and the support of France and England
ultimately gave the regent the upper hand, and in 1839 her general,
Espartoro, forced the Basque Provinces to submit to Isabella. Don Carlos
renounced his claims in favor of his eldest son, another Carlos, and
retired to Trieste, where he died in 1855.

Christina now tried to sever herself from the Progresistas, and to
govern with the help of the moderate party who enjoyed the patronage of
Louis Philippe. But England, jealous of French influence at Madrid,
threw the weight of her influence on to the side of the Radicals, who
found a powerful leader in Espartero. In 1840, Christina had to retire
to France, and Espartero was recognized as regent by the Cortes. But his
elevation was resented by the other officers, while his subservience to
England made him unpopular, and in 1848 he also had to go into exile.
Isabella was now declared of age. Christina returned to Madrid, and the
Moderados under Narvaez obtained complete control over the government.
This was a great victory for France, and Louis Philippe abused his
success by negotiating the infamous “Spanish marriages.” A husband was
found for Isabella in her cousin, Francis of Assis, whose recommendation
in French eyes was the improbability of his begetting children. On the
same day the queen’s sister, Maria Louisa, was married to Louis
Philippe’s son, the Duke of Montpensier. By this means it was hoped to
secure the reversion of the Spanish throne for the House of Orleans.
The scheme recoiled on the heads of those who framed it. The alienation
of England gave a fatal impulse to the fall of Louis Philippe, while the
subsequent birth of children to Isabella deprived the Montpensier
marriage of all importance.

Spanish history during the reign of Isabella II. presents a dismal
picture of faction and intrigue. The queen herself sought compensation
for her unhappy marriage in sensual indulgence, and tried to cover the
dissoluteness of her private life by a superstitious devotion to
religion and by throwing her influence to the side of the clerical and
reactionary party. Every now and then the Progresistas and Moderados
forced themselves into office, but their mutual jealousy prevented them
from acquiring any permanent hold upon the government. In 1866, Isabella
was induced to take vigorous measures against the Liberal opposition.
Narvaez was appointed chief minister; and the most prominent Liberals,
Serrano, Prim and O’Donnell, had to seek safety in exile. The Cortes
were dissolved, and many of the deputies were transported to the Canary
Islands. The ascendency of the court party was maintained by a rigorous
persecution, which was continued after Narvaez’s death (April, 1868) by
Gonzales Bravo.

Common dangers succeeded at last in combining the various sections of
the Liberals for mutual defense, and the people, disgusted by the
scandals of the court and the contemptible camarilla which surrounded
the queen, rallied to their side. In September, 1868, Serrano and Prim
returned to Spain, where they raised the standard of revolt and offered
the people the bribe of universal suffrage. The revolution was speedily
accomplished and Isabella fled to France, but the successful rebels were
at once confronted with the difficulty of finding a successor for her.
During the interregnum Serrano undertook the regency and the Cortes drew
up a now constitution by which a hereditary king was to rule in
conjunction with a senate and a popular chamber.

As no one of the Bourbon candidates for the throne was acceptable, it
became necessary to look around for some foreign prince. The offer of
the crown to Leopold of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen excited the jealousy of
France, and gave Napoleon III. the opportunity of picking a quarrel,
which proved fatal to himself, with the rising state of Prussia. At last
a king was found (1870) in Amadeus of Aosta, the second son of Victor
Emmanuel, who made an honest effort to discharge the difficult office of
a constitutional king in a country which was hardly fitted for
constitutional government. But he found the task too hard and too
distasteful, and resigned in 1878.

A provisional republic was now formed, of which Castelar was the guiding
spirit. But the Spaniards, trained to regard monarchy with superstitious
reverence, had no sympathy with republican institutions. Don Carlos
seized the opportunity to revive the claim of inalienable male
succession, and raised the standard of revolt in the Basque Provinces,
where his name was still a power. The disorders of the democrats and the
approach of civil war threw the responsibility of government upon the
army. The Cortes were dissolved by a military _coup d’etat_; Castelar
threw up his office in disgust; and the administration was undertaken by
a committee of officers. Anarchy was suppressed with a strong hand, but
it was obvious that order could only be restored by reviving the
monarchy. Foreign princes were no longer thought of, and the crown was
offered to and accepted by Alfonso XII., the young son of the exiled
Isabella (1874).

His first task was to terminate the Carlist war, which still continued
in the north, and this was successfully accomplished in 1876. Time was
required to restore the prosperity of Spain under a peaceful and orderly
government and to consolidate by prescription the authority of the
restored dynasty. Unfortunately a premature death carried off Alfonso
XII. in 1885, before he could complete the work which circumstances laid
upon him. The regency was intrusted to his widow, Christina of Austria,
and the birth of a posthumous son (May 17, 1886), who is now the titular
king of Spain, has excited a feeling of pitying loyalty which may help
to secure the Bourbon dynasty in the last kingdom which is left to it.




In August, 1492, Columbus sailed on his voyage of discovery. In
September, 1898, his remains were conveyed from the New World to the
Old. Between those two dates an empire rose and fell. The causes which
led to the one and the effects which precipitated the other may now be
conveniently considered.

In earlier years Cadiz was a famous seaport. Her sons were immemorial
explorers. The presentiment of a land across the sea was theirs by
intuition. Constantly they extended their expeditions, and would have
extended them still further had not the Church interfered. The spirit of
enterprise, checked as heretical, revived centuries later in a
neighboring land. It was Portugal that it inspired. There the work of
exploration and discovery was resumed. The island of Madeira was reached
in 1420, the Azores annexed in 1431. But it was along the African coast
that Portuguese effort was mainly directed. Tradition asserted that the
entire continent had been circumnavigated centuries before by voyagers
from Phœnicia; but, as no details were recorded, the adventure was
regarded as something more than dubious. However, the west coast began
now to be systematically explored. Nuno Tristao entered the Senegal
River in 1445; a year later Diniz Dias, a fellow-navigator, sailed as
far as Cape Verd. The equator was not crossed until 1471; the Congo was
revealed in 1484; and in 1486 the crowning feat of all was accomplished,
when Bartholomew Diaz rounded the Stormy Cape, soon to become known as
the Cape of Good Hope, and opened up communication with the East by
water, instead of overland or by the indirect route of the Red Sea,
which necessitated the transshipment of all merchandise conveyed that

The expedition to the west which Columbus ultimately directed was
conceived by him in 1474, and unfolded to John II., king of Portugal, by
whom, however, it was rejected; whereupon Columbus dispatched his
brother Bartholomew to enter into negotiations with Henry VII. of
England, and after assuring himself that neither Genoa nor Venice was
likely to lend him a willing ear, much less ready help, he repaired to
the south of Spain in 1485.

Had Bartholomew not fallen into the hands of pirates, and so been
prevented from reaching his destination for several years, it is more
than probable that the credit as well as the profit of the discovery of
America would have fallen at once to England, as Henry had both the
means and the inclination to indulge in some such venture, provided it
was not too costly, and showed any reasonable prospect of success. As it
was, Christopher was left to pursue his pleadings before the Spanish

It was an unfortunate time to put forward any proposals calculated to
divert the wealth and strength of the kingdom beyond its own borders;
for Ferdinand and Isabella were then in the very midst of the campaign
which ended in the final overthrow of the Moorish dominion, in the

Ultimately, however, after the fall of Granada and eighteen years of
waiting, his proposals were accepted by Isabella and his hopes realized.
A royal edict constituted him perpetual and hereditary admiral and
viceroy of any territories discovered, together with a tenth of any
profits derived therefrom. With this edict and funds advanced by the
receiver of ecclesiastical revenues, Columbus hastened to the port of
Palos. There, two brothers by the name of Pinzon aiding, he got together
a crew of a hundred and twenty men, a scratch armada of three leaky
tubs--the “Santa Maria,” the “Pinta” and the “Nina”--and, on the 3d of
August, 1492, weighed anchor for pastures new.

Columbus, as admiral of the fleet, commanded the “Santa Maria”; the two
Pinzons, Martin Alonzo and Vicente Yanez, the “Pinta” and “Nina”
respectively. The expressed object of the voyage was to convert the
Grand Khan, supposed to be the great potentate of the Far East, to
Christianity; and Columbus never doubted but that in due course he would
arrive at Japan, or Zipangu, as it had been named by the Venetian
explorer, Marco Polo, who had reached it by an overland route more than
a century before, and had described its wonders, together with those of
Cathay or China, through which he passed on his way. The one condition
imposed was, that the squadron should not touch at any place on the
African continent, claimed to be under Portuguese jurisdiction, as that
would have led to immediate hostilities between the two countries.

The details of the voyage are sufficiently familiar to dispense with
narration here. It will suffice to note that after seventy days the
island of San Salvador, as it was then named, hove in sight; that on the
28th of October, sixteen days later, Cuba was discovered, and that on
the 6th of December Hayti was reached.

Several circumstances then made it advisable for Columbus to return to
Spain without further delay. He had seen enough to be convinced that a
much larger force than he had under his command would be necessary to
make the subjugation of these newly acquired territories effective; news
of the discovery might reach Europe before him, and be taken advantage
of by some other sovereign than the one to whom he was devoted; and he
had now sufficient treasure of various kinds to convince the most
skeptical of the complete success of his enterprise. After constructing
a small fort, and leaving a portion of the crew, at their own desire, to
garrison it until he should return, he set sail for home with the “Nina”
on the 4th of January, 1493.

Reaching Palos on the 13th of March, Columbus was immediately summoned
to Barcelona, where Ferdinand and Isabella were then domiciled, made a
triumphal entry into the city, and, on his arrival at the royal
residence, was welcomed by the king and queen in person, who commanded
him to be seated by their side, while he related the account of his

Meanwhile the report of the discovery had spread. Portugal sought to
take advantage of it through the theory that all heathen countries were
in the gift of the Pope, which gift a Bull had already confirmed. But,
Spain protesting, a subsequent Bull confirmed the Portuguese in their
existing possessions, and granted them all territory that should be
discovered east of a line drawn from north to south, one hundred leagues
west of the Azores, while the Spaniards were to enjoy exclusive dominion
over everything west of it.

This was regarded as so unsatisfactory by Portugal that, at its
instigation, negotiations between the two countries were opened, and
resulted the following year in the conclusion of the Treaty of
Tordesillas, by which it was agreed to move the line three hundred and
seventy leagues west of the Azores; a most important change, because by
it Portugal subsequently established its claim to the Brazils, a portion
of which was found to fall east of the line of demarcation, while it
could urge the further plea of having been first in the field, through
the accidental deviation of Cabral. At any rate, the whole world outside
Europe was leased in perpetuity to Spain and Portugal; and had the
pretensions of the Holy See in things temporal as well as spiritual
continued to be recognized, neither England, France nor Germany could
to-day own a square yard of territory in the three greatest continents
of the world.

While the negotiations were in progress, preparations for a second
expedition on a vastly greater scale were rapidly pushed forward. The
direction of them was intrusted to a cleric named Fonseca, a capable man
of business, but who for some reason or other conceived a violent
dislike to Columbus, and threw every obstacle in his way. The eagerness
to embark on this second voyage was far more marked than the reluctance
exhibited in the first, and the best blood of Spain pressed into the
service. The number of adventurers was originally limited to a thousand;
but the applications were so numerous, from those who believed that
fortunes were waiting to be picked up in the New World, that this was
raised to twelve hundred, and fifteen hundred actually sailed in
seventeen vessels from the Bay of Cadiz on the 25th of September, 1493.
All was keen anticipation during the voyage, the disappointments only
commenced at its termination.

“Into these,” says Mr. R. J. Root, whose account we quote, “there is no
occasion to enter now. The main point of interest is, that a
sufficiently large force of Spaniards had taken part in the enterprise
to confirm the possession of the New World to their country, and defeat
any attempts that Portugal might be likely to make to filch it away.
After establishing a settlement at Isabella on the north of Hayti, or
Hispaniola, as it was then named, Columbus was free to prosecute further
explorations, the principal one being to sail along the southern shores
of Cuba; but, after continuing his voyage to within a few miles of its
western extremity, he arrived at the conclusion that it was the
mainland, and reported to that effect--nor was it until after his death
that it was proved to be an island. Everything was claimed for the
Spanish crown; and, as there were absolutely no competitors, it can well
be understood how the entire group of islands constituting the West
Indies became Spanish colonies.

“Various causes compelled Columbus to relinquish his exploration and
return, first to Hispaniola and then to Spain. For one thing, the two
vessels with which he set sail were ill-provisioned. With that
confidence in his own judgment which was so characteristic of the man,
he relied upon encountering at no great distance those civilized or at
least semi-civilized, nations of which he had come in search, but
instead he met only the fierce tribes of Cuba and Jamaica, who offered
resistance, not welcome, and arrows in lieu of food.

“On his return to the colony, affairs were in a most unsatisfactory
condition. The last thing most of the colonists dreamed of when they
left their native shores was work. They had gone out, as they fondly
imagined, to pick up the gold as it lay at their feet, and when they had
accumulated sufficient, meant to return and enjoy it. Though Columbus
had never promised, nor even suggested anything of the sort, his
brilliant descriptions and anticipations were undoubtedly responsible
for the ideas so freely indulged, and the indignation against him rose
just as rapidly as hopes were blasted. Complaints were finding their way
to Spain, and lest he should be prejudiced in the eyes of his
sovereigns, he determined to embark thence and render a personal account
of his stewardship.

“The voyage home was, if anything, more protracted, and entailed greater
hardships, than the previous one. Columbus arrived at Cadiz on the 1st
June, 1496, and met with a warmer reception than he had dared to hope
for. But intrigue was busy, and his arch-enemy Fonseca, who was by this
time in almost undisputed control of colonial affairs, threw numerous
and persistent obstacles in the way of his fitting out another
expedition. The stories told by returned colonists of the want and
suffering they had endured were not conducive to others volunteering
for the service, and it was only on the 30th May, 1498, that the admiral
was again able to set sail from San Lucar with a small fleet of six
vessels, manned almost entirely by convicts specially released.

“A more southerly course was taken than on either of the previous
occasions, and the first place touched was the island of Trinidad.
Sailing round it from the southwest, the ships were suddenly caught and
swept along by a mighty current, which Columbus discovered to be of
fresh water, and rightly judged to be poured out of some vast river. He
had, in fact, reached the coast of South America, and was in the waters
of the Orinoco as they rushed to mingle with the ocean. The natives
proved of a more friendly disposition as well as of superior type to
those encountered in many of the islands; and as they possessed gold,
and also something still more precious, pearls, every encouragement was
given them to trade. They were just as eager after the trumpery toys of
the Old World as the inhabitants of San Salvador had been the first time
they were ever exhibited in the New, and we may be sure the bargains
made were very profitable to the Spaniards. Still, these were not the
people Columbus had come in search of, and his inquiries and labors were
diligently directed to the discovery of a passage which should lead him
still further west to the dominions of the Grand Khan.

“After some time vainly spent in exploring the coast with this object,
an affection of the eyes compelled him to desist and make once more for
Hispaniola, where he had left his brother Bartholomew as governor during
his absence. A strange welcome awaited him, however. In response to the
continued complaints of the colonists, a commissioner had been
dispatched from Spain to inquire into their grievances, and certain
powers were intrusted to him to assume authority in the island in case
of necessity. Deeply impressed with a sense of his own importance,
Francisco Bobadilla, the officer appointed, immediately on his arrival
began to act in the most reckless and arbitrary manner; and the
discoverer of the New World, without any warning, found himself
arrested, loaded with chains, thrown into prison, and finally sent home
to Spain in this ignominious fashion.

“Great was the public, still greater the royal indignation, when he
arrived in this sorry plight; every effort was made to soothe the
feelings so deeply wounded by this dire insult, and Bobadilla would have
paid dearly for his temerity had he survived to answer for his misdeeds.
But news had reached Spain of the wonderful riches of the Gulf of Paria
some time before the arrival of Columbus, and the malignant and untiring
Fonseca, in direct contravention of the charter conveying the rights to
the admiral, stimulated private enterprise to follow in the track,
taking the utmost possible advantage of whatever information he had
gained in his official capacity, and imparting it to others. An
expedition was fitted out under Alonzo de Ojeda, one of the most
dare-devil adventurers who ever quitted the shores of his own or any
other country, and whose marvelous exploits in Hispaniola had already
excited the wonder and admiration of men long accustomed to feats of
skill and courage. Accompanying him was Amerigo Vespucci, a Venetian
navigator, who strangely enough was destined to give his name to the
whole of the vast continent which he was about to visit for the first
time, though he never accomplished anything of practical importance in
it. Several other ships were fitted out, including a caravel of fifty
tons’ burden by Pedro Alonzo Nino, which performed the most lucrative
voyage of any vessel or squadron equipped up to that time, and returned
home well freighted with pearls and other costly treasure. This was
quite sufficient to stimulate ambition as well as greed, and when
Columbus arrived he had the mortification of learning that others were
actively exploiting his preserves.

“While these events were happening, another enterprise was undertaken
quite beyond the cognizance of the Spanish authorities. Bartholomew
Columbus, it will be remembered, had proceeded on a mission to Henry
VII. some years previous; and when the English monarch learned that the
most sanguine anticipations had been realized, he was anxious to share
in the results. As early as 1495 he endeavored to equip and dispatch a
squadron of his own, but it was not until two years later that Sebastian
Cabot, despite the existence of the Papal Bull, set sail from Bristol.
Steering a direct westerly course, he struck the coast of Newfoundland,
and leisurely sailed south almost to the extreme point of Florida, ere
he resumed his homeward journey. The Spanish government naturally
protested against this infringement of its rights, and Henry found it
politic to listen, as he was then in close alliance, and engaged in
negotiating the marriage between his son and Katharine of Aragon, which
subsequently proved so pregnant to the religious and ecclesiastical
destinies of England. It was at a later period, and under totally
different circumstances, that the Anglo-Saxon race was to occupy and
overrun the northern continent.

“Columbus himself was spared to undertake one more voyage, and this time
it was to be confined exclusively to the continent, he being absolutely
forbidden to land at Hispaniola, where Nicolas Ovando, with a force of
all sorts and conditions of men, numbering two thousand five hundred,
had been installed as governor; and so jealous was he of any
interference with his prerogatives that, when the admiral was driven by
stress of weather to take shelter in the harbor of San Domingo, he was
ordered to quit instantly.

“This proved the most disastrous of all his voyages. After exploring the
coasts of Honduras and Central America generally, in search of the
non-existent channel, until the provisions were in such a state that
they could only be eaten in the dark, it was decided to land, despite
the fierce opposition of the natives, and plant a permanent settlement
under Bartholomew, who accompanied his brother. This, however, had to be
abandoned; and on the way back the only remaining vessel ran aground in
Dry Harbor in Jamaica, and became a total wreck, the most incredible
suffering, aggravated by constant mutiny, being experienced, until the
remnant of the crew was eventually relieved.

“Columbus having shown the way to the mainland, as well as the islands,
it was left to others to reveal the vast extent and natural wealth of
what he had discovered, and he died on the 20th May, 1506, in complete
ignorance of many of the most important facts which his genius and
tenacity permitted to be made known for the first time to the civilized

“Columbus and his immediate followers hit upon the most unpromising part
of the American Continent, where the damp, hot atmosphere, with its
resulting rank and profuse vegetation, makes human existence intolerable
if not wellnigh impossible. As the land was known to contain gold,
however, the most persistent efforts were made to settle in it, and two
regular governments were established under Alonzo de Ojeda and Diego de
Nicuessa respectively. Nothing but disaster resulted for many a long
year, and the greatest difficulties were experienced in extending or
enlarging them in any direction but coastwise.

“Narrow as the isthmus is in the part selected, it appeared
impenetrable, until eventually the magic word gold encouraged a few bold
spirits to overcome every obstacle. Wherever the adventurers went inland
they heard of a great sea and vast abundance of the precious metal in an
unknown land beyond. After incredible hardships, Vasco Nunez de Balboa
and a handful of followers forced their way through the thickets and
swamps, scaled the mountain range which runs like a backbone along the
isthmus, and were rewarded for their pains when they reached the summit
by the sight of the great southern sea lying at their feet. This
occurred on the 26th September, 1513, and on the following day the party
descended the western slopes; Vasco Nunez, as its leader and commander,
taking possession of the Pacific Ocean on behalf of the King of Spain,
with all the ceremonies and formalities customary on those occasions.

“How to take advantage of it was the question. Far south, beyond where
vision could reach, lay the golden land. They were without ships or
means of conveyance of any sort, and the shore upon which they were now
stranded was dangerous as well as inhospitable. The observant and
ingenious mind of Nunez, inferior only to that of Columbus, evolved the
idea of transporting material across the isthmus for the construction of
a fleet to undertake the subjugation of all countries bordering on the
Southern Sea; and such was the work eventually accomplished, though not
by Nunez, who fell a victim to the jealousy and treachery of Pedrarias
Davila, a new governor dispatched from Spain. It was left to one of his
lieutenants, Francisco Pizarro, to set forth on a definite expedition
more than ten years later; and it was not until nearly twenty years had
elapsed that Peru was discovered, and the rich kingdom of the Incas
added to the spoils of the Castilian monarch.

“Meanwhile, exploration had been busy on the eastern side of the
continent. Cuba, realized at length to be an island, was regularly
colonized in 1511, and the governor, Diego Velasquez, being an
enterprising and ambitious man, dispatched an expedition westward. The
great peninsula of Yucatan was reached, and the officers of the little
squadron were struck by the much higher state of civilization exhibited
by the natives than by any others hitherto met with either in the
islands or on the mainland. The news of this led to the subsequent
expedition of Cortes, the story of whose conquest of Mexico reads more
like a fairy tale than the narrative of actual events and hard

“The years 1519, 1520 and 1521 were occupied by this, the greatest of
all the enterprises undertaken by Spain in the New World. Nor was there
any lack of activity in other directions. Juan Ponce sailed from Porto
Rico, in 1512, in search of a spring whose waters insured perennial
youth to whoever drank of them, and found and annexed Florida instead.
More than one navigator cruised southward as far as the Rio de la Plata,
and in 1520 Magellan reached the extremity of the southern continent,
and passed through the straits which bear his name. Nor was Cortes idle
after he had accomplished his great work. North and south he sought to
add to the territory of New Spain, until all the countries of Central
America on one side, and the peninsula of California on the other, were
brought under its sway. In less than half a century from the day
Columbus first set foot on San Salvador, the entire continent, from
Labrador to Patagonia, had been visited, and by far the greater part of
it annexed to, and nominally ruled by, the Castilian crown.

“To return, however, to Hispaniola. The rapid exhaustion which
mismanagement produced there, joined to the absence of gold, led to the
creation of other colonies. The discovery of the fisheries, first at
Paria, and then in the islands of the Pacific, opened up an unexpected
source of wealth; but it was not until Montezuma offered his munificent
gifts to Cortes, to induce the latter to quit the shores of Mexico, that
the first great reservoir of the precious metals was tapped. Still, it
must be remembered that the great stores of gold discovered, first in
Mexico, and subsequently in Peru, did not in themselves imply that these
countries were capable of continuing to produce unlimited quantities.
They were the accumulations of many years, possibly of many centuries;
for, as there was no foreign trade, everything produced which could not
be consumed had necessarily to be preserved or destroyed.

“It may be wondered what value gold possessed in the ideas of these
people. That it was held in nothing like the same esteem as by Europeans
is certain; but in Peru, at any rate, its production and preservation
were assured, from the fact that it was regarded as tears wept by the
sun, which was the god of the people, whose Incas, or rulers, were
called the Children of the Sun. In neither case, then, is it surprising
that the treasure was not clung to with more tenacity. Both Montezuma
and Atahualpa set a higher value upon many other things; and the
quantities seized by Cortes and Pizarro and their respective followers,
vast though it appeared in their eyes, and as it really was in those
days, was parted with, with scarcely a pang of regret. That secured by
Pizarro was by far the greater spoil, and was supposed to be the price
of the freedom of the Inca himself, who offered to fill a room 85 feet
by 17, and as high as a man could reach, with gold plate in exchange for
it. He did not quite succeed, because Pizarro treacherously put him to
death before the task was completed, yet the amount realized for
distribution was equivalent to something like three and a half millions
sterling ($17,500,000) of the money of to-day, and enriched the
commonest foot-soldier beyond the dreams of avarice.

“It was silver, not gold, moreover, which eventually made both countries
at once the wonder and the envy of the civilized world. The richest
mines were unknown to the Indians, having only been discovered after
the Spanish conquest. Those of Zacotecas in Mexico were first worked in
1532, while the more famous Potosi lode in Peru was laid bare in 1545,
by a native scrambling up the side of a mountain in pursuit of some
llamas which had strayed from his flock, and uprooting the shrubs to
which he clung for support.

“In the West Indies, meanwhile, the larger islands, like Porto Rico,
Cuba and Jamaica, were gradually colonized, but the smaller ones were
left alone; it can well be understood that in the absence of any proved
deposits of gold they were scarcely worth attention, and it was
sufficient to keep a watch over them to defend them from the incursions
of other nations. With the conquest of Mexico, however, the center of
gravity was moved further west, and still more so when followed by that
of Peru, because the only known route from the latter was by Panama and
across the isthmus.

“These territories were altogether too great for efficient oversight;
that of Mexico stretching from California in the north to Venezuela in
the south, and including not only the West Indies, but the far removed
Philippines, while that of Lima embraced the whole of South America both
east and west of the Andes. The great territories included in the
present Republics of Argentina, Uruguay and Paraguay were looked upon as
of little value, as they contained neither gold nor silver; and as every
attempt made to settle them only seemed to end in failure, little
attention was given to their affairs. They became, indeed, a distinct
source of loss to Spain, as they were found useful for purposes of
contraband trade; and eventually the gold and silver, which could not
be safely smuggled through the ordinary ports of shipment, were conveyed
across the Andes and down the rivers to places of embarkation on the
Amazon or Rio do la Plata, where foreign ships awaited the spoil and
were ready to barter the coveted produce and manufactures of Europe in
exchange. When these two viceroyalties were eventually subdivided, it
was not into east and west, but north and south, and New Granada became
the center of one; while the territories now included in the United
States were separated from Mexico, and constituted the other.

“In Spain everybody, from the king in his palace to the peasant in his
hut, regarded the colonies simply as a source of revenue and profit to
himself, and when they ceased to be this, they would be useless. The
most stringent regulations were adopted, therefore, against trading or
even communicating among themselves, or of engaging in any industry,
manufacturing or agricultural, which was not indigenous to the country;
indeed, Spain insisted upon supplying everything it could grow or make
which would stand the sea voyage, at its own price. The cultivation of
neither the olive nor the vine was permitted in the New World, and
severe penalties were inflicted upon any one who had the temerity to
disobey. Peru and Chili, however, were specially exempted, owing to
their immense distance, and the damaged condition in which liquids
generally arrived there, but they were not allowed to export the produce
to any neighboring country, and must consume it themselves. The duties
of the colonists were, in fact, strictly limited to obtaining as much
gold and silver as they could, while the Spaniards at home were to take
care that they retained as little of it as possible. For all that, many
fortunes were realized, principally by bullion being smuggled out of the
country; and had there not been some such inducement, few men would have
cared to expatriate themselves, and live amid such uncomfortable

“Precisely similar principles were observed in all matters relating to
government. Every office of profit under the crown, almost every
emolument, however trivial, was reserved for persons of pure Spanish
birth. As a consequence, the official class was migratory, and remained
in the colonies no longer than was necessary to accumulate a fortune or
a competence, according to the taste of each individual member of it.
Though there were honest and honorable men to be found among them,
notably those filling the most exalted positions, that did not prevent
the vast majority from preying on the colonists, many of whom, by virtue
of the grants of territory they had received, attained to great
influence and wealth. Their descendants were, nevertheless, debarred
from all participation in either the legislative or executive functions
of government, though they might have nothing but the purest Spanish
blood flowing in their veins. Nor could they become dignitaries of the
Church without much difficulty. In the days when the Holy See found it
politic to be on good terms with the Spanish sovereign, the whole
ecclesiastical patronage of the New World was vested in him and his
successors; and though many Popes endeavored to get this privilege back
into their own hands, they always failed, and were compelled to confirm
the nominations of the secular ruler. Both Mexico and Peru were rapidly
overrun with clergy, secular as well as regular, and monastic
establishments sprang up everywhere like mushrooms, yet preferment was
always reserved for their brethren in Spain; and out of nearly four
hundred bishops and archbishops consecrated up to the middle of the
seventeenth century, scarce a dozen were taken from the Spanish-American
community known as Creoles.

“A system so rigid is bound to break. Federation is all very well and
may accomplish much that is beneficial to all concerned. But its first
condition is elasticity, so that every section within its embrace may
enjoy full freedom of expansion. There must be no jealousies, no
recriminations, and, above everything, no attempts to get all and give
nothing. These conditions are possible under an arrangement entered into
freely by all parties; they are unattainable when imposed by the strong
upon the weak. That is why Spain never won the gratitude of its
colonies, why each and every one eagerly seized the opportunity of
throwing off the yoke, and fought desperately for independence, and why,
to-day, her colonial power is ended.”




The population of Hayti at the advent of Columbus was estimated to have
been a million, yet, before many years had elapsed, the colonists were
forcibly depopulating the smaller islands to provide a supply of labor
sufficient for their limited requirements. It was the people of the
mainland who might have been expected and who actually did offer the
stoutest resistance. No more wonderful campaign is recorded in military
history than that conducted by Cortes against the Mexicans, and it may
be doubted whether there was another man living who could have carried
it to a successful issue.

Conspicuous as a general, he was unmatched as a diplomatist, whether in
dealing with his own soldiers, his allies, or his enemies. Who else in
that age would have dreamed, after defeating the Tlascalans against
fearful odds, of enlisting them against their deadly foes the Aztecs,
and so humoring them that they never swerved in their loyalty? Or who
could have traded on the superstition, of Montezuma, so as to gain
complete control over his mind, and extract his treasures, valued at
something like seven and a half million dollars, without a blow? But
Montezuma once removed, the people, who had long been accustomed to
render him an unquestioned obedience, and to submit themselves to his
slightest command, were free to follow leaders who evinced more spirit;
and the death of that monarch was speedily followed by the _noche
triste_ with all its attendant horrors. To be captured alive, as many of
the Spanish soldiers were, meant the most terrible of all ends, for they
were hurried away to the temples, and their palpitating hearts torn from
their living bodies, to be offered as a propitiation to the national
deities. Yet even this did not disconcert Cortes and his brave
adherents, who began immediately to concert another plan of campaign.
The difficulties they had first encountered were as nothing compared to
those they had still to face, for they had to deal with a victorious and
determined foe, instead of a beaten and depressed one. Every obstacle,
however, was overcome; and with the energetic assistance of allies, who
little dreamed they were sealing their own doom and forever sacrificing
their independence, the powerful and rich kingdom of Mexico was finally
brought into complete subjection to the Castilian crown.

Of totally different and vastly inferior fiber was the conqueror of
Peru. Pizarro was without either education or address--a rough,
ambitious, and avaricious soldier. He, too, was favored by internal
dissensions, of which he could not possibly have known anything when he
set forth on his errand. After a long period of peaceful and undisputed
sway, the Inca dynasty was split by a feud between two brothers, one of
whom, Atahualpa, had just asserted his superiority by force of arms,
when the European conquerors appeared on the scene. A word from him, and
not a man of them would have escaped alive. But at the critical moment
an unaccountable paralysis overtook him, whether or not arising from a
curiosity to see and interview the strangers it is impossible to say. He
realized his danger too late, for Pizarro, imitating Cortes, seized the
person of the Inca, and the rest was rendered comparatively easy.
Accustomed, like Montezuma, to exact unqualified obedience, he employed
his subjects in collecting his ransom instead of fighting for his
deliverance; and when the debt was almost paid, he found himself doomed
to death instead of released from captivity. The forces of the empire
were then scattered, and without a leader who could assume full
authority. Still, many a desperate bid was subsequently made for
freedom, but each time with less prospect of success, as the conquerors
secured a firmer grip upon the country, until the execution of Tapac
Amara, the last direct descendant of the Incas, in 1571, left that
solitude which Cæsar called peace.

But after all it was not the opposition of the Indians, whether of the
islands, of Mexico, or Peru, that proved the greatest danger to Spanish
sovereignty. Enmity to Columbus, who was the accredited representative
of the crown and legal governor of the Indies, did not necessarily infer
enmity to the crown itself; indeed, those who rebelled against him were
loud in their protestations of loyalty. Nevertheless, the turbulent
factions fought for their own hand, and would have been equally opposed
to any other governor who sought to place the necessary restraint upon
their license. By permitting, and even compelling, many of the
discontented to return home, as well as by the temporary removal of
Columbus himself, something like quiet was restored; but it is more than
probable that had not the colonists been largely dependent upon Spain
for many necessaries, not excluding food, they would have cut themselves
adrift and refused to submit to the exactions upon their industry, or
rather upon that of the natives from which they profited. More than once
in the early days, the home government had to stop cautiously, and
commissions were dispatched to ascertain where the grievances lay, and
if possible redress them. They were mostly connected with labor; the
majority of the clergy, to their credit be it said, ranging themselves
on the side of humanity, and using all their influence to obtain
ordinances favorable to the natives. This difficulty was smoothed away
to a great extent by the introduction of the African negro, which began
as early as the year 1503.

The followers of Cortes were remarkably loyal to him in prosperity and
adversity alike; and though for a long time he was unaware how his
proceedings would be received at court, he remained consistent in his
devotion to his sovereign. His dispatches breathe an almost effusive
submission to their will and interests, and only his enemies ever laid
any charges against him, while his own actions too obviously refuted
them. It was only when some of his officers were removed from his
influence and intrusted with commissions of their own that they thought
of kicking over the traces, and then it invariably happened that they
were not in situations where any great harm could result. Mexico once
subdued, long rendered the most willing obedience of any of the
colonies, partly perhaps because under the direct influence of good and
great viceroys, who acted both with intelligence and discretion.

It was far otherwise in Peru, where the duplicity of Pizarro in
excluding Almagro from his proper share in the governorship roused the
suspicion, then the ire, and finally the opposition of that honest and
gallant soldier. When Pizarro returned from his visit to Spain, he was
either accompanied or immediately followed by several of his brothers,
who, among them, formed a family compact for the protection and
promotion of their own interests. To rid themselves of the rivalry of
Almagro, they obtained for him the governorship of the country which now
comprises the Republic of Chili. This, however, had still to be
conquered, and the obstacles which presented themselves to the
enterprise appeared so insurmountable that Almagro and his followers
abandoned it and returned to Cuzco, the rich capital of Peru, which, the
former maintained, fell within the latitude of the patent granted to
him. This assertion was naturally contested by the Pizarros, and in the
civil war that followed both Francisco Pizarro, the eldest and foremost
of the brothers, and Almagro met with violent deaths. The Indians looked
on with amazement at this strife between the white men, but failed to
profit by it. Had they shown anything like the energy displayed in the
warfare among themselves, or that of their Mexican brothers, they must
inevitably have recaptured their kingdom, which it would have been
extremely difficult to reconquer; but having allowed the golden
opportunity to slip, it never again offered.

But the most serious menace to the supremacy of Spain in the New World
occurred shortly after the promulgation of the edicts of Charles V. in
1542. The clauses guaranteeing the Indians their freedom, and protecting
them against undue imposition, either of taxation or forced labor, were
so obnoxious to the colonists that something like a general rising was
threatened. The tact of the Mexican viceroy pacified those under his
rule, but Peru experienced the full force of an armed rebellion with all
its evil consequences. The leader in this instance was Gonzales Pizarro,
who had inherited the immense estates conferred upon the family by a
grateful sovereign, and who now undoubtedly aimed at establishing a
separate kingdom with himself its supreme head. Fortunately, the right
man was again sent from Spain to deal effectively with this uprising,
and though a cleric, Vaca de Castro exhibited the skill of a general and
the diplomacy of a statesman. With the execution of Gonzales, the last
of the Pizarro brothers, peace was restored; and by the middle of the
sixteenth century the various governments were so effectively
consolidated that not for upward of a hundred and fifty years did any
revolt, Indian or Creole, meet with more than temporary success.

It was far otherwise with the Philippines, which have never been free
for any length of time from disturbances of some kind. No effort indeed
has ever been made to thoroughly subdue the turbulent natives; and there
is no similar extent of territory under the control of a European
government, about which so little is known regarding its natural
resources and mineral wealth as the important islands of Luzon and
Mindanao, which embrace half the total area of the archipelago. The
principal ports have been strongly fortified, and reliance placed upon
them to retain possession. The immunities enjoyed by the natives would,
under ordinary circumstances, offer little inducement to revolt, but
unfortunately the Philippines have from the very first been particularly
subject to ecclesiastical influence and jurisdiction, and in its
missionary and persecuting zeal the priesthood has made itself
thoroughly obnoxious. The religious orders were the special object of
animosity in the latest rising, and unless they are either suppressed or
placed under more effective political control, there will be little
prospect of peace in the islands.

In an epoch when most of the nations of Europe are struggling to add to
their territories in the remotest corners of the earth, it seems almost
incredible that four centuries ago a single one of them should have been
permitted to annex a whole continent unchallenged. It was not so much
the Pope’s Bull that frightened competitors away as the fact that they
were too deeply absorbed in their own affairs. The importunity of
Columbus had to wear itself nearly out before the fortunate completion
of the Moorish conquest won it a more ready ear; and most other
countries were about the same time either engaged in, or just recovering
from, some similar internecine strife. Moreover, it was the energy of
private adventurers rather than of the Spanish crown which won for the
latter a vast empire beyond the seas; nor was it until its value became
plainly apparent that it was thought worth while to go to any great
amount of trouble or expense in its development.

Similarly, the first external enemies the Spanish colonies had to
encounter were private and unattached adventurers. Piracy was an
institution which had already flourished for many centuries. The Barbary
corsairs were far more feared by the merchants of Venice and Genoa than
the fiercest storms that ever visited the Mediterranean; and they had
their counterpart in the Baltic, where the Hanseatic League carried on
so extensive a commerce. It was only to be expected that they would
sally forth from their inland seas when so much more valuable spoil was
to be secured on the open ocean beyond, but strange to say, with the
rapid decline of the trade which they had so long harried, their
activity slackened, and their principles and profession were largely
inherited by more civilized races. Some excuse was offered for this by
the almost constant warfare that prevailed during the reign of Charles
V., when France and Spain were at perpetual enmity, and England was
found, first on one side, then on the other. The first important loss
that befell Spain was the capture of the vessel conveying home the royal
share of the treasures of Mexico by a French privateer, or pirate, as
the Spaniards always preferred to call the ships which despoiled their
fleets, a designation that was more often than not amply justified.

To begin with, these pirate ships were content to hang about the Azores,
on the chance of meeting a caravel laden with treasure homeward bound.
They gradually ventured further west, until they actually arrived among
the West Indian Islands, where they were surprised to find that
altogether undreamed-of facilities awaited them for the pursuit of their
nefarious trade. Though the entire archipelago belonged nominally to
Spain, only the larger islands were actually occupied, the smaller not
being regarded as worthy of attention, until the Indian population of
Hispaniola, Cuba and Porto Rico began to fail, and then they were raided
for their inhabitants to supply the vacant places. With a scanty Spanish
population, it would have been utterly impossible to fortify and inhabit
all, even had colonists been found so self-denying as to banish
themselves to places where the only chance of accumulating wealth was by
hard work and steady application to agricultural pursuits.

For a long time these scattered islands were merely places of call,
where fresh water and fruit could be obtained. No attempt was made at
annexation in the name of any foreign power, and it would have been
folly for any ship’s company, even had they been disposed to relinquish
their buccaneering career, to settle down and defy the Spanish power,
whose forces would quickly have been put in motion to expel them.

Two events, designed by Philip II. to aggrandize the power of Spain at
the expense of its neighbors, were eventually the means of arousing
enmity against it to such an extent that the opposition of private
adventurers was suddenly backed up by the full weight of the most
rapidly progressing peoples and governments in the Old World.

Many previous efforts had been made to unite the crowns of Spain and
Portugal, but hitherto all had failed. The heroic death of Sebastian,
however, in 1580, left the throne of Portugal without a direct heir, and
among the numerous claimants was Philip, who overreached all his
competitors. He was probably even then meditating that descent upon the
liberties of England which resulted, eight years later, in the dispatch
of the renowned Armada, and the writing of one of the most brilliant
pages of English history. Success in the one instance, no less than
failure in the other, created the most deadly foes that Spain ever had
to encounter, until the persistent antagonism of Holland and England
reduced it at last to a miserable shadow of its former self.

Philip’s ruling passion was an intense bigotry, and from the moment he
assumed sway in Spain and the Low Countries, he sought to exterminate
every trace of the Reformed faith. That brought him into conflict with
the Dutch, whose principal port and city of Amsterdam was fast
concentrating within itself the trade that Bruges and Antwerp had once
commanded as the principal marts of the Hanseatic League. As Portugal
extended its conquests in the East, Lisbon displaced Venice and Genoa,
and became the great emporium of all Eastern produce, whence Amsterdam
drew its supplies for distribution throughout northern Europe. With the
object, therefore, of destroying Dutch trade, Philip closed the port of
Lisbon to it in 1594, fondly imagining that that would ruin his
rebellious subjects, and enforce submission to his will.

He had entirely mistaken Dutch character, however; for in the following
year the services were enlisted of Cornelius Hautmann, who had been a
pilot in the Portuguese service; and he conducted the first Dutch
expedition round the Cape of Good Hope on its way to open up a direct
trade with the Spice Islands and India, which of course had become the
property of Spain along with its own Philippines. Thus modestly was laid
the foundation of the Dutch Empire in the East Indies, and when Portugal
regained its freedom in 1640, under the House of Braganza, it found
itself stripped of most of its former colonies, which were never to be

Not content merely with retaining their former trade, the Dutch sought
to extend it in other directions; and the incorporation of their East
India Company in 1602 was followed by that of the West India Company in
1621, the operations of which were to embrace the west coast of Africa
as well as the whole of Spanish America, in which the Brazils had then
to be included. They had been preceded many years earlier by the
English, who commenced operations in good earnest some time before the
date of the Armada; indeed, those two great figures in English naval
history, Sir John Hawkins and Sir Francis Drake, had then already
performed their greatest exploits. As early as 1572, the latter gave a
good account of himself on the Spanish Main, but his most daring feat
was accomplished in 1578, when he sailed through the Straits of Magellan
and appeared off the coast of Peru. Francisco Draques was the terror of
Spanish America, and his was the name used to frighten Spanish-American
children when they were naughty.

A new danger thus became apparent, as the Spaniards had never dreamed
before of reaching their West Coast possessions by the southern route.
Lest other foreign adventurers should follow in the wake, an expedition
under Pedro Sarmiento was dispatched from Chili to explore the Straits
and the adjoining territory, with the view, if practicable, of founding
a strong colony and erecting substantial fortifications. Sarmiento’s
zeal outran his discretion, and after accomplishing his task he sailed
for Spain, where he gave an exaggerated account, not only of the danger
of leaving the Straits unprotected, but of the ease with which they
could be rendered impregnable to all unfriendly visitors. A colony
consisting of about four hundred souls was actually sent out in 1528,
though from the very first it met with nothing but dire misfortune.

The captain-general commissioned to take charge of the undertaking,
Diego Flores, disliked the job, and began by chartering the worst ships
he could find. His lieutenant, Sarmiento, was more discreet in the
choice of the embryo colonists, most of whom were skilled mechanics; but
the fleet had scarcely left San Lucar on the outward voyage, when half
of them were shipwrecked and drowned. Though replaced, disaster
continued to follow upon disaster, the voyage being very much a
repetition of the previous one made by Magellan, only in this instance
the commander was himself the leading obstructionist. Eventually, rather
more than two hundred souls sailed from the Bio de la Plata, and
forty-five of these were drowned ere the Straits were reached. All but
eight of the survivors subsequently perished, and the last of them was
taken off in 1589 by the “Delight,” commanded by Sir John Cavendish, who
appropriately named the spot where he found him “Port Famine.”

The advent of the English and Dutch, followed half a century later by
the French, led to the settlement of some of the unoccupied islands.
They rapidly became something more than mere provisioning depots, though
several of them, and notably the island of Tortuga, were nothing else
than the lairs of desperate crews of pirates, as reckless of their own
lives as of those who were unfortunate fall into their clutches. But
Barbadoes and St. Christopher, St. Eustatius and Curaçoa, Martinique and
Guadalupe, became the center of something more legitimate, if quite as
illegal, as sinking galleons and purloining their treasure, though that
business was never missed either when the opportunity presented itself;
and the Dutch West India Company alone is said to have been responsible
for the capture of between five and six hundred Spanish vessels.

The English secured their first foothold in the neighborhood by
occupying the Bermudas in 1621, though this hardly brought them into
direct contact with the West Indies. This was speedily followed by
settlements in some of the unoccupied islands further south. Barbadoes
was taken possession of in 1625, and the same year St. Christopher, or
St. Kitts, as it is now called, was divided between the English and
French. The former continued to add to their territory, taking Nevis in
1628, Antigua and Montserrat in 1632; and all these islands are so
essentially English, as to prove conclusively that, although once
nominally owned by Spain, Spanish influence was never exerted in them.

From 1650 until the period of his death, Oliver Cromwell, having
established his authority at home, pursued an active foreign policy, and
it was only natural that he should find himself in conflict with Spain,
whose maxims of government, both civil and religious, were so utterly
at variance with his. Thus, in 1654, a somewhat formidable fleet, under
the command of the admirals Penn and Venables, sailed for Barbadoes,
where they would be ready for any emergency. Early the following year
they made a descent upon Hispaniola, selecting the capital, San Domingo,
as the object of attack. On the approach of the ships, the inhabitants,
white and black alike, fled inland, but the affair was sadly mismanaged
and somehow miscarried. Not wishing the expedition to prove a complete
failure, the admirals set sail for the adjoining island of Jamaica,
which did not then contain, at the outside, more than fifteen hundred
whites, and perhaps as many blacks. This time, no difficulty was
experienced, and the island was taken formal possession of, this being
the first loss of occupied territory inflicted upon Spain, as well as
the most important acquisition ever made in the West Indies by England.
In 1658 the Spaniards attempted to drive the intruders out but failed,
and in 1670 a treaty was entered into between the two countries, in
which Spain recognized the rights of England both in Jamaica and the
smaller islands of which possession had been previously taken.

About this time, also, the French West India Company was incorporated,
the brilliant finance minister of Louis XIV., Colbert, not liking to be
without a hand in the game. He began in a more legitimate fashion than
his competitors, and in 1664 purchased the rights of the settlers in
Martinique, Guadalupe, St Lucia, Grenada, and a few other islands for
about a million livres. Spanish tyranny, however, afforded an excuse for
more high-handed proceedings, and the company secured a footing on the
western side of Hispaniola, Spanish interests being concentrated almost
entirely on the eastern. The settlements so established became little
more than a rallying-point and shelter for buccaneers, who, in
consequence of their roving habits, were difficult to eject, until
eventually this intermittent occupation of a portion of the island
induced France to lay claim to the whole, but the cession was only
formally recognized by Spain more than a century later. Thus the four
predominant powers of Europe all had a stake in the Western Hemisphere.

Nearly a hundred and fifty years elapsed without witnessing any further
important changes. The very vastness of the Spanish-American empire was
its principal protection. Europe was growing thoroughly accustomed to
immense armies, but they could only be moved on land, and there was no
means for transporting them across the sea. What chance was there then
of conquering a territory which extended uninterruptedly from California
to Chili, and from Florida to the Rio de la Plata, even had there been
much inclination? The idea, it is true, occurred more than once, and
especially in 1702, when--the death of Charles II. of Spain having
brought to an end the Hapsburg dynasty, and the Wars of the Spanish
Succession being entered upon--an alliance was formed between England,
Holland and the German Empire for the conquest of the Spanish colonies,
but like others it came to nothing. Again, in 1739, Spain, alarmed at
the growing contraband trade, insisted very justifiably on searching
English ships in American waters, but this was resented and led to war,
in which Porto Bello was captured; and that had something to do with the
permission granted a few years later to trade by the longer, but safer
and more convenient route round Cape Horn.

Once more, in 1762, what was known as the Family Compact involved the
rest of Europe in hostilities against the Bourbon dynasties in France,
Spain, and Italy, and the war was carried both to the East and West
Indies. Havana and Manila were captured by the English, and might have
become English possessions, had not the Treaty of Paris, concluded in
1763, brought the campaign to an end, and made it a condition that all
colonial conquests were to be restored to their original owners. Minor
changes were frequent and numerous, but they were generally a mere
shuffling of the cards between England, Holland, and France, leaving the
Spanish possessions much as they were.

The eighteenth century, as it drew to its close, found the Spanish
occupation of America almost as it had been in the first half of the
seventeenth. Then a mighty upheaval was witnessed both in North America
and Europe, and the War of Independence in the United States, together
with the French Revolution, provide the sequel for what followed in
South America. Scarcely a murmur was heard in the principal Spanish
colonies while these great events were changing the destinies of the
civilized world, and an onlooker who had time to think must have been
astonished at their apparent loyalty to the mother country, oppressed
though they had been, and still were, while everywhere else the blow for
freedom was being struck. Perhaps another conclusion might have been
arrived at; namely, that the ancient Spanish stock had so degenerated,
and had become such a mean-spirited race, that it dare not act like its
neighbors further north; but subsequent events disproved this
hypothesis. The Girondists and the Mountain rose and fell; Napoleon
became successively director, dictator, emperor--still no sign of
movement. Then the moment arrived for the arch-disturber of Europe to
overthrow the ancient monarchy of Spain, and to establish a brand-new
one with his brother Joseph at its head. That was the supreme crisis to
make a move, or forever to remain still. Spain almost to a man resented
the affront. Spanish America joined the mother country, and refused to
recognize the upstart dynasty.

Still, in the midst of this death-like calm, some presages of the coming
storm were discernible. In the first place, France, by the Treaty of
Basle in 1795, secured the cession of the whole of Hispaniola, only,
however, in a few years to lose it again by its declaration of
independence, and the formation of a black republic. In the naval
conflicts so frequent during that disturbed period England both lost and
gained. The Dutch and Spanish were both unwilling confederates of
Napoleon, but their connection with him, nevertheless, exposed their
foreign possessions to the attack of his declared enemies; and England
captured Demerara and Essequibo in Guiana from the former, and the
island of Trinidad from the latter. All these were trivial acquisitions,
compared with the vast extent of Mexico and Central America, Peru, and
New Granada, and the eastern province of Buenos Ayres. Brazil had
reverted to Portugal with the firm establishment of the Braganza
dynasty, and was nearly all there was left of its once great colonial
empire. In March, 1808, the ill fortune of the royal family drove them
from their own kingdom to find refuge beyond the seas, and Brazil became
an independent empire under the fugitive Portuguese sovereign, whose
descendants remained in peaceable and prosperous possession until the
revolution which dethroned the late ill-fated Dom Pedro.

These changes were due entirely to foreign intervention and not to
domestic unrest. The first sign of this was when Francisco Miranda, a
Spanish-American who had fought under Washington, conceived the idea of
freeing his fellow-countrymen, and took steps toward that end by
founding a “Gran Reunion Americana” in London in 1806. But so
unresponsive were the inhabitants of the Spanish Main that the first
active movement of the league resulted in dead failure. It attracted the
sympathy and support, however, of two active and capable men, Bolivar
and San Martin, who were destined to do so much for the emancipation of
South America from European bondage, and whose advent brought a rapid
change in the feeling of indifference with which the movement was

Still, the loyalty of the colonists might have been proof against their
blandishments had the government of Ferdinand VII., established at Cadiz
in opposition to that of Joseph Bonaparte, shown itself in any way
conciliatory toward them. Loyal though the Spaniards at home were to the
Bourbon dynasty, they were only willing to rally round it on condition
of the carrying out of many important reforms in consonance with the
spirit of the age; and the colonists likewise demanded that, as the
price of their adhesion, they should be put upon an equality with Spain,
and be accorded perfect liberty in their agricultural and manufacturing
industries; that trade should be thrown open between all the countries
on the American Continent and with the Philippines; and that all
restrictions and monopolies should be abolished, and fixed duties
substituted in their place. Reasonable though these demands now appear,
they were indignantly rejected, and with one consent nearly every
country in Spanish America was ablaze with revolution.

One of the earliest outbreaks was in Mexico, the near proximity of the
United States having perhaps inspired in that country a more intense
longing for freedom than elsewhere. A small band of patriots had for
some time been watching an opportunity for asserting themselves, and
with Hidalgo and Allende at their head, took the extreme step of issuing
a declaration of independence on the 16th of September, 1810. Spanish
influence was still strong; and in less than a year the outbreak was
suppressed, and the leaders executed. Others rose to take their places,
and just three years after the declaration of independence, the first
Mexican Congress was summoned to meet at the town of Chilpantzongo,
which was in the hands of the insurgents. Morelos, the principal actor
at this stage of the drama, was captured and shot in December, 1815; but
that only imposed a temporary check on the movement. In the delusive
hope of regaining full control, Ferdinand, then firmly re-established on
his throne, offered concessions in 1820, but it was too late, and they
failed to effect a pacification. Independence was once more declared in
1821, but this time at the instigation of a dictator who aimed at
founding an empire for himself, and who did for a short period sway the
destinies of his country as the Emperor Iturbide I. His reign was
brief, and a republic was definitely established on the 16th of
December, 1823, the subsequent career of which has been so checkered
until quite recent times. Having been recognized by the principal courts
of Europe, Spain itself accredited an embassador in 1839, and made no
further efforts to reassert its former title.

Elsewhere the struggle was less prolonged, though, while it lasted,
quite as exciting. At the instigation of Bolivar, Venezuela proclaimed
its independence in July, 1811, and several years later united with New
Granada as the Republic of Colombia. Buenos Ayres established a junta in
1810, a Constituent Assembly was called in January, 1813, and entire
independence of Spain was declared, July, 1816. The insurrection in
Chili likewise began in 1810, when a National Congress was summoned to
meet at Santiago; but the Spanish interest was strong on the west coast,
and it was not until San Martin crossed the Andes from La Plata in 1817
that independence was made good. Material assistance was afforded by the
famous Admiral Cochrane (Lord Dundonald), who, driven in disgrace from
his native country, placed his services at the disposal of the revolting
Chilians, and gave them that naval pre-eminence in South America which
they have ever since retained.

Peru proved an even tougher job, but the combined forces of San Martin
and Cochrane proved irresistible, and both Lima and Callao were taken in
1821. Lima, however, was recaptured by the Spaniards in 1823, but
Bolivar, marching against it from Colombia, was appointed dictator, and
gained so decisive a victory in 1824 that the Spanish army was forced
to capitulate, and by 1826 the connection with the mother country was
completely and finally severed. Spain had vainly striven against these
successive misfortunes, and in 1815 sent out a considerable force under
Marshal Morillo, who gained a few temporary successes; but his cruelties
and atrocious conduct only exasperated the colonists, and instigated
them to greater exertions. The various countries of Central America were
quietly federated into the Republic of Guatemala in 1823, in the absence
of any Spanish troops to oppose; and thus, from the northern borders of
Mexico to the southern confines of Chili and La Plata, the conquerors of
the New World were forever ejected. England was the first to recognize
the South American republics, and entered into commercial treaties with
several of them in 1825, after which date Spain can no longer be said to
have been able to claim ownership of a single acre on the American

Meanwhile of a once vast colonial empire but Cuba and Porto Rico
remained. What were the forces at work which there prevented secession?

The political economist Mr. R. J. Root, to whom and to whose work on
this subject we are already much indebted, states that the conditions
were different. The predominant feature of the islands was negro
slavery, whereas the wealth of the Spanish-American colonist lay in
lands which, if subject to alienation, were at least impossible of
removal. The Cuban planter reckoned as his most precious possession the
flesh and blood attached to his estates, and the very words “freedom”
and “independence” stank in his nostrils. Whatever inconvenience,
therefore, he suffered from his political connection with an effete
monarchy and a decaying or decayed empire, he at least felt that, while
he clung to it, it would afford him protection for his property.

A steady flood of immigration from the mother country maintained this
connection down to the recent war. The wealthiest merchants and planters
have invariably been of pure Spanish blood, and their contempt for the
Cuban Creoles, though many of them are as pure-blooded as themselves,
and have no taint whatever of the “tar-brush,” has helped to maintain
them as a separate class, regarded as intruders by all of Cuban birth,
and hated accordingly. They have of necessity invoked Spanish aid and
relied on Spanish authority, and have, for nearly a hundred years,
provided the basis for Spanish rule in the island. Many of them made
their fortunes and returned home, leaving room for others to follow.
Some made Cuba their permanent domicile, but invariably with fatal
effects upon their offspring, for Cuban birth is almost synonymous with
Cuban sympathies, and, in any rising, the father, who has been on the
side of the crown, has witnessed his sons throwing in their lot with the

Ever since the emancipation of the Spanish Main, Cuba has been in a
state of political unrest. Various secret societies have been
constituted, and have received advice and assistance from Mexicans,
Chilians, and others who had already succeeded in throwing off their own
fetters. In 1823 the Society of Soles struck a blow for liberty; six
years later it was the Company of the Black Eagle which attempted
success where its predecessor had failed. Both were essentially Creole
risings, and although those who participated in them freely gave
expression to their abhorrence of slavery, no assistance was either
asked or received from the negroes. For these unfortunates, however,
failure meant the tightening of their bonds; and it is not surprising to
find that, in 1844, goaded to despair by their sufferings, they tried an
insurrection on their own account, though of course it ended

These outbreaks were all more or less localized, and it was not until
1868 that a revolution broke out, destined to involve the entire island,
and to occupy long and weary years in suppressing, if, indeed, the
smoking embers can be said ever to have been quenched. It was
undoubtedly instigated by the American Civil War, which had ended in the
uncompromising abolition of slavery, and so raised the hopes of the
friends of liberty in Cuba. Though the planters and slave-owners ranged
themselves, as was natural, on the side of law and order, their
enthusiasm was no longer of the keenest. They realized that the
institution to which they clung so tenaciously was doomed, and it became
a question with them of doing the best they could for themselves.
Emancipation in the British West Indies had for a time added enormously
to their prosperity, until the value of slaves underwent so great an
appreciation that it no longer became profitable to purchase them, and
only actual owners derived any benefit. For, it must be remembered,
there was a distinct difference between the slave-trade and slavery, and
long after public opinion revolted against, and prohibited the
kidnapping and traffic in human flesh, it continued to tolerate its
ownership, and recognized natural increase as legitimate property. That
African negroes were smuggled into Cuba is tolerably certain;
nevertheless, the numbers were too small to prevent the gradual increase
in value of an able-bodied male slave from $250 to something like $1,750
or $2,000. This was the surest means of eventual abolition; for while
this high price set upon the black made him valuable property, and
insured his better treatment, it tended to make the luxury too costly,
and one that could eventually no longer be indulged in, as the point
must be reached where free labor would become cheaper.

About the time of the rebellion, the number of slaves in Cuba was
between 350,000 and 400,000, and their value on paper was simply
enormous. The $100,000,000 voted by the British Parliament as
compensation to the disinherited slave-owners in the British West Indies
would have been but a drop in the ocean in any scheme for Cuban
emancipation by purchase. Indeed, to do the planters justice, they never
expected anything of the sort, and all the more practical of them asked,
was to be let down gently. This was effected by the proclamation of what
was known as the Moret Law in 1870, which at once declared free all
slaves over sixty years of age, and decreed that every child born after
that year should be free likewise. In the first instance, the planters
registered a distinct gain, as they got rid of a number of old and
decrepit dependants no longer fit for work; but this was offset by the
compulsory maintenance, until their eighteenth year, of all the free
offspring of their slaves. Under this law, the odious institution
perished in something like twenty years, because its burdens gradually
outweighed its benefits, until the low wage for which the free negro is
willing to work became the more economical method of production.

Thus the strongest tie between Spain and Cuba was snapped, and the party
of independence gained force, as many planters found no longer any
advantage in supporting the authority of the crown. The rebellion
dragged on; the Spanish troops continually poured in having to encounter
the guerrilla warfare, for which the division of the island afforded so
many opportunities. For, considerable though the population is,
two-thirds of it has always been concentrated in the western corner, of
which Havana is the capital, the remaining districts being very sparsely
peopled. It is in these rebellion always throve; and the policy adopted
by General Weyler, when in supreme command, was to make them a desert by
destroying all sustenance, and forcibly removing the inhabitants, who,
under the name of Reconcentrados, aroused so much sympathy.

Though the outbreak of 1868 was eventually suppressed, it left a legacy
of bitter memories and still bitterer exactions. For, true to its policy
of four centuries, Spain determined that it at least would not be a
loser, and saddled the entire cost of the military operations, and
nobody knows what else besides, on the unfortunate island, in the form
of a debt amounting to about four hundred million dollars. Even this
might have been tolerated had any attempt been made to establish an
equitable system of government, because an era of prosperity set in
which culminated in 1891, when the total exports were valued at no less
than $100,000,000, and there was ample margin for interest on an
inflated debt. But the rapacity of Catalan manufacturers, no less than
of government officials, upset everything; and from the captain-general
down to the humblest trader in Barcelona, all expected to pocket
something out of the spoils of Cuba. Nor was the plunder limited to
Spaniards. Despite the restrictions against trading by foreigners,
adventurers of all nationalities managed to get a foothold in Havana,
and corruption preyed on corruption. No one, in fact, was expected to be
honest, and a stranger remarking upon the rascality prevailing in high
places, would as likely as not be met with a shrug of the shoulders and
the reply, Robamos todos, “We are all thieves.”




While Spain was actively engaged in exploration and annexation in the
west, Portugal was equally busy in the east. Though the Cape of Good
Hope had been doubled by Diaz in 1486, it was not until 1497, five years
after the discovery of America, that Vasco da Gama proved the
possibility of reaching India by that route. Rapid progress, for those
days at any rate, was made from that time. The actual neighborhood of
the Cape apparently offered no attractions; the advantages of its
situation were left to be realized by the Dutch a century later; and it
was not until Natal was reached on Christmas day, whence its name, that
there were any thoughts of annexation or settlement. It was the East
Coast of Africa which seemed to offer the greatest facilities for
communication and trading with the opposite shores of India, and claimed
attention accordingly; and as numerous pilots were to be found there,
skilled in navigating vessels across the Indian Ocean, it was there
colonies were first established, one of which at least, and the only
important one remaining to Portugal, Lorenzo Marques, has been the
object of envy, and the source of much contention in recent years.

From the Malabar coast in the south to Karachi in the north of India,
Portuguese traders grew active, but, owing to the fierceness and
determination of the natives, it was found impossible for some years to
permanently occupy any territory, until Goa was established in 1510, as
the center of Portuguese interests. A year earlier than this, Malacca
had been subjugated, and the exploration of Sumatra undertaken; while
three years later, Francisco Serrao discovered the Moluccas, the
far-famed islands from which Venice and Genoa had so long drawn their
stores of valuable spices by the overland route through India and
Persia, or by the Red Sea and Isthmus of Suez. To divert this traffic
round the Cape of Good Hope, expeditions were fitted out against Muscat
and Ormuz in the Persian Gulf, and Aden at the entrance to the Red Sea.
While, then, the Spanish colonists were searching for gold in sufficient
quantities to make the enterprise pay, much less realize fortunes, the
Portuguese tapped the source of wealth of the great mercantile
communities of the Middle Ages; and, monopolizing it themselves,
rendered their country for a time the richest in the world.

Of the numerous governors dispatched by Portugal to the east, the Duke
of Albuquerque was the most active, and accomplished the greatest
results. Serving under him in various capacities was Ferrao Magalhaes,
or Maghallanes, a young nobleman who sought on every possible occasion
to distinguish himself. Returning home, he did not receive the reward he
considered his due; and though he continued to agitate at court, and to
urge his claims, on the further ground that since his arrival from the
east he had taken part in an African campaign, and been permanently
lamed, he was either repulsed or put off with some trifling concession.
This rankling in his mind, he determined to divest himself of his
nationality, and offer his services to Spain, the patron of all foreign

By the Papal Bull, Spain was debarred from undertaking any enterprise in
the East. This was, of course, well known to Magalhaes, or Ferdinand
Magellan, as he now chose to call himself, but he had carefully thought
the matter out, and arrived at a conclusion of his own. He had heard
much of the ideas which led to the discovery of America, and though
other and more important matters then engaged the attention of Spain
than the discovery of Japan and China by the western route, he still
considered the plan feasible. He intimated to the Emperor Charles V.,
then king of Spain, his desire to be intrusted with an expedition, with
which he would undertake to reach the Moluccas from the west, and so
prove that they belonged by right to Spain.

News of this treachery reached Portugal, where it was heard with the
greatest indignation, and an angry correspondence passed between the two
courts. Charles’s ambitions, however, lay in European aggrandizement,
for which the demands upon his exchequer were heavier than he well knew
how to meet. His great possessions in the New World had hitherto been a
drain upon his scanty resources, as they had been upon those of his
grandfather before him; and although Ferdinand lived for a quarter of a
century after the discovery of America, he left hardly sufficient money
in his coffers to pay his funeral expenses. Charles, therefore, listened
eagerly to the proposition by which he might acquire the teeming riches
of the Spice Islands, and, notwithstanding protests and warnings alike,
terms were finally agreed to in March, 1518, which placed five ships,
and a full complement of men, at the disposal of Magellan. Failing any
other means of putting an end to the enterprise, a plot was formed for
the assassination of Magellan, but miscarried; and he weighed anchor on
the 10th of August, 1519, though delayed in his actual departure until
the 20th of September following.

Instructions were sent to the Brazils, already occupied by Portugal, to
waylay Magellan, and at all costs prevent the continuance of his voyage;
and in case he eluded the vigilance of the governor of that settlement,
a strict watch was to be kept at the Moluccas, and no quarter given him
if he ever reached there, as he was declared a traitor to the crown of
Portugal. He arrived at the Rio de la Plata unmolested, and entered that
river, of great width at its mouth and for some distance along its
course, with the idea that it offered the long-sought passage to the
West. The increasing freshness of the water convinced him that it was
but a river, and he returned and moved his course southward. And now his
real difficulties began. Winter was setting in with all its rigor, and
the further south he proceeded the more severe became the weather. His
crew was most cosmopolitan in character and nationality, and included a
number of Portuguese, some of whom, it began to be suspected,--had been
bribed to mutiny, if not indeed to murder their commander. Dissensions
broke out among the captains of the different vessels on petty points of
precedence and discipline; and only the most determined stand by
Magellan himself, who did not hesitate to hang several of the crew as an
example to the rest, prevented the total ruin of his hopes and plans.

To make matters worse, scarcity of provisions began to be experienced,
and it was then decided to winter in the shelter of the river St.
Julian. It was in October, 1520, before a fresh start could be made, and
on the 21st of that month a channel was discovered, the careful
navigation of which for thirty-eight days, amid shoals and innumerable
islands, brought them, amid great rejoicing, once more into the open
sea, proving the theory maintained by Columbus to his dying day to be so
far, at any rate, correct.

But Magellan, like all his predecessors, sadly miscalculated the
distance between the remote East and the far West, and after taking in
such supplies of provisions as were obtainable, renewed his voyage with
a light heart, and in full expectation of reaching land in a week or two
at longest. Days grew into weeks, and the weeks passed into months, and
still no break on the monotonous horizon. The sufferings of the crew
were horrible, as food and water became gradually exhausted, and they
had to subsist at last by gnawing anything into which they could get
their teeth. To turn back was certain destruction, as they could not
possibly last out the time necessary to cover the distance already
traversed. To go forward, therefore, was their only chance of salvation;
and after a passage of ninety-eight days land was sighted on March 18,
and the most dreaded of their dangers passed. They had sailed into a
group of islands, not the Moluccas as they had anticipated, but the
Islas de las Pintados; so called from the custom of the natives of
painting or tattooing their naked bodies, and subsequently re-christened
the Philippines, in honor of the heir to the Spanish throne, who
afterward reigned as Philip II.

Magellan was not destined to reap the fruits of his enterprise, nor to
suffer the punishment subsequently inflicted on some of the survivors.
He found the natives among whom he first landed friendly disposed, but
rightly suspected them of treachery. Desirous, however, of conciliating
them as far as possible, he entered into their quarrel with a tribe in a
neighboring island, and, in the attack which he led against it, was

Disputes arose as to who should succeed to the command; and what was
left of the fleet, after many adventures and the loss of a considerable
number of the crew, arrived at the island of Tidor in the Moluccas on
the 8th of November, 1521. There it was decided that the “Victoria”
should load a cargo of spices and make its way to Spain by the Cape of
Good Hope, in direct defiance of the rights of the Portuguese, while the
“Trinidad” should return the way she came. A valuable cargo, consisting
of about twenty-six tons of cloves, with parcels of cinnamon, sandal
wood, and nutmegs, was shipped, and after being nearly captured by the
Portuguese off the African coast, and again at the Canaries, arrived in
the harbor of San Lucar, as was supposed, on the 6th of September, 1522,
having sailed round the world in three years all but a few days.
Through all their troubles, a careful record of dates had been kept, and
the officers were surprised to find that what they imagined to be the
6th was actually the 7th of September in Seville; and they were at a
loss to know how the one day had been missed, being of course unaware
that this is the invariable result of circumnavigating the world from
East to West.

Of the total number of two hundred and eighty hands originally shipped,
only a remnant remained, of whom seventeen, together with the captain,
Juan Sebastian Elcano, were on board the “Victoria.”

The city of Seville received them with acclamation; but their first act
was to walk barefooted, in procession, holding lighted candles in their
hands, to the church, to give thanks to the Almighty for their safe
deliverance from the hundred dangers which they had encountered.
Clothes, money, and all necessaries were supplied to them by royal
bounty, and Elcano and the most intelligent of his companions were cited
to appear at court to narrate their adventures. His Majesty received
them with marked deference. Elcano was rewarded with a life pension of
five hundred ducats (worth at that date about five hundred and sixty
dollars), and as a lasting remembrance of his unprecedented feat, his
royal master knighted him and conceded to him the right of using on his
escutcheon a globe bearing the motto: “Primus circundedit me.”

Two of Elcano’s officers, Miguel de Rodas and Francisco Alva, were each
awarded a life pension of fifty thousand maravedis (worth at that time
about seventy dollars), while the king ordered one-fourth of that fifth
part of the cargo, which by contract with Maghallanes belonged to the
State Treasury, to be distributed among the crew, including those
imprisoned in Santiago Island.

Meanwhile the “Trinidad” was repaired in Tidor and on her way to Panama,
when continued tempests and the horrible sufferings of the crew
determined them to retrace their course to the Moluccas. In this
interval Portuguese ships had arrived there, and a fort was being
constructed to defend Portuguese interests against the Spaniards, whom
they regarded as interlopers. The “Trinidad” was seized, and the
captain, Espinosa, with the survivors of his crew, were afforded a
passage to Lisbon, which place they reached five years after they had
set out with Maghallanes.

The enthusiasm of King Charles was equal to the importance of the
discoveries which gave renown to his subjects and added glory to his
crown. Notwithstanding a protracted controversy with the Portuguese
court, which claimed the exclusive right of trading with the Spice
Islands, he ordered another squadron of six ships to be fitted out for a
voyage to the Moluccas. The supreme command was confided to Garcia Yofre
de Loaisa, Knight of St. John, while Sebastian Elcano was appointed
captain of one of the vessels. After passing through the Magellan
Straits, the commander, Loaisa, succumbed to the fatigues and privations
of the stormy voyage. Elcano succeeded him, but only for four days, when
he too expired. The expedition, however, arrived safely at the Molucca
Islands, where they found the Portuguese in full possession and strongly
established; but the long series of combats, struggles and altercations
which ensued between the rival powers, in which Captain Andres de
Urdaneta prominently figured, left no decisive advantage to either

But the king was in no way disheartened. A third expedition--the last
under his auspices--was organized and dispatched from the Pacific coast
of Mexico by the viceroy, by royal mandate. It was composed of two
ships, two transports and one galley, well manned and armed, chosen from
the fleet of Pedro Alvarado, late governor of Guatemala. Under the
leadership of Ruy Lopez do Villalobos it sailed on the 1st of November,
1542; discovered many small islands in the Pacific; lost the galley on
the way, and anchored off an island about twenty miles in circumference,
which was named Antonia. They found its inhabitants very hostile. A
fight ensued, but the natives finally fled, leaving several Spaniards
wounded, of whom six died. Villalobos then announced his intention of
remaining here some time, and ordered his men to plant maize. At first
they demurred, saying that they had come to fight, not to till land, but
at length necessity urged them to obedience, and a small but
insufficient crop was reaped in due season. Hard pressed for food, they
lived principally on cats, rats, lizards, snakes, dogs, roots and wild
fruit, and several died of disease. In this plight a ship was sent to
Mindanao Island, commanded by Bernado de la Torre, to seek provisions.
The voyage was fruitless. The party was opposed by the inhabitants, who
fortified themselves, but were dislodged and slain. Then a vessel was
commissioned to Mexico with news and to solicit re-enforcements. On the
way, Volcano Island (of the Ladrone Islands group) was discovered on the
6th of August, 1543. A most important event followed. A galiot was
built and dispatched to the islands (it is doubtful which), named by
this expedition the Philippine Islands in honor of Philip, Prince of
Asturias, the son of King Charles I., heir apparent to the throne of
Castile, to which he ascended in 1555 under the title of Philip II., on
the abdication of his father.

The craft returned from the Philippine Islands laden with abundance of
provisions, with which the ships were enabled to continue the voyage.

By the royal instructions, Ruy Lopez de Villalobos was strictly enjoined
not to touch at the Molucca Islands, peace having been concluded with
Portugal. Heavy gales forced him, nevertheless, to take refuge at
Gilolo. The Portuguese, suspicious of his intentions in view of the
treaty, arrayed their forces against his, inciting the king of the
island also to discard all Spanish overtures and refuse assistance to
Villalobos. The discord and contentions between the Portuguese and
Spaniards were increasing; nothing was being gained by either party.
Villalobos personally was sorely disheartened in the struggle, fearing
all the while that his opposition to the Portuguese in contravention of
the royal instructions would only excite the king’s displeasure and lead
to his own downfall. Hence he decided to capitulate with his rival and
accepted a safe conduct for himself and party to Europe in Portuguese
ships. They arrived at Amboina Island, where Villalobos, already crushed
by grief, succumbed to disease. The survivors of the expedition, among
whom were several priests, continued the journey home via Malacca,
Cochin-China and Goa, where they embarked for Lisbon, arriving there in

In 1558, King Charles was no more, but the memory of his ambition
outlived him. His son Philip, equally emulous and unscrupulous, was too
narrow-minded and subtly cautious to initiate an expensive enterprise
encompassed by so many hazards--as materially unproductive as it was
devoid of immediate political importance. Indeed the basis of the first
expedition was merely to discover a western route to the rich Spice
Islands, already known to exist; the second went there to attempt to
establish Spanish empire; and the third to search for and annex to the
Spanish crown lands as wealthy as those claimed by and now yielded to
the Portuguese.

But the value of the Philippine Islands, of which the possession was but
recent and nominal, was thus far a matter of doubt.

One of the most brave and intrepid captains of the Loaisa
expedition--Andres de Urdaneta--returned to Spain in 1536. In former
years he had fought under King Charles I., in his wars in Italy, when
the study of navigation served him as a favorite pastime. Since his
return from the Moluccas his constant attention was given to the project
of a new expedition to the Far West, for which he unremittingly
solicited the royal sanction and assistance. But the king had grown old
and weary of the world, and, while he did not openly discourage
Urdaneta’s pretensions, he gave him no effective aid. At length in 1553,
two years before Charles abdicated, Urdaneta, convinced of the futility
of his importunity at the Spanish court, and equally unsuccessful with
his scheme in other quarters, retired to Mexico, where he took the habit
of an Augustine monk. Ten years afterward, King Philip, inspired by the
religious sentiment which pervaded his whole policy, urged his viceroy
in Mexico to fit out an expedition to conquer and Christianize the
Philippine Islands. Urdaneta, now a priest, was not overlooked.
Accompanied by five priests of his order, he was intrusted with the
spiritual care of the races to be subdued by an expedition composed of
four ships and one frigate well armed, carrying four hundred soldiers
and sailors, commanded by a Basque navigator, Miguel Lopez de Legaspi.
This remarkable man was destined to acquire the fame of having
established Spanish dominion in these islands. He was of noble birth and
a native of the province of Guipuzcoa in Spain. Having settled in the
City of Mexico, of which place he was elected mayor, he there practiced
as a notary. Of undoubted piety, he enjoyed a reputation for his justice
and loyalty, hence he was appointed general of the forces equipped for
the voyage.

The favorite desire to possess the valuable Spice Islands still lurked
in the minds of many Spaniards--among them was Urdaneta, who labored in
vain to persuade the viceroy of the superior advantages to be gained by
annexing New Guinea instead of the Philippines--whence the conquest of
the Moluccas would be but a facile task. However, the viceroy was
inexorable and resolved to fulfill the royal instructions to the letter;
so the expedition set sail from the Mexican port of Navidad for the
Philippine Islands on the 21st of November, 1564.

The Ladrone Islands were passed on the 9th of January, 1565, and on the
13th of the following month the Philippines were sighted. A call for
provisions was made at several small islands, including Camiguin, whence
the expedition sailed to Bojol Island. A boat dispatched to the port of
Butuan returned in a fortnight with the news that there was much gold,
wax and cinnamon in that district. A small vessel was also sent to Cebu,
and on its return reported that the natives showed hostility, having
decapitated one of the crew while he was bathing.

Nevertheless, General Legaspi resolved to put in at Cebu, which was a
safe port; and on the way there the ships anchored off Limasana Island
(to the south of Leyte). Thence, running S.W., the port of Dapitan
(Mindanao Island) was reached.

Prince Pagbuaya, who ruled there, was astonished at the sight of such
formidable ships, and commissioned one of his subjects, specially chosen
for his boldness, to take note of their movements and report to him. His
account was uncommonly interesting. He related that enormous men with
long pointed noses, dressed in fine robes, ate stones (hard biscuits),
drank fire and blew smoke out of their mouths and through their
nostrils. Their power was such that they commanded thunder and lightning
(discharge of artillery), and that at meal times they sat down at a
clothed table. From their lofty port, their bearded faces and rich
attire, they might have been the very gods manifesting themselves to the
natives; so the prince thought it wise to accept the friendly overtures
of such marvelous strangers. Besides obtaining ample provisions in
barter for European wares, Legaspi procured from this chieftain much
useful information respecting the condition of Cebu. He learned that it
was esteemed a powerful kingdom, of which the magnificence was much
vaunted among the neighboring states; that the port was one of great
safety and the most favorably situated among the islands of the painted

The general resolved therefore to filch it from its native king and
annex it to the crown of Castile.

He landed in Cebu on the 27th of April, 1565, and negotiations were
entered into with the natives of that island. Remembering how
successfully they had rid themselves of Maghallanes’ party, they
naturally opposed this renewed menace to their independence. The
Spaniards occupied the town by force and sacked it, but for months were
so harassed by the surrounding tribes that a council was convened to
discuss the prudence of continuing the occupation. The general decided
to remain, and, little by little, the natives yielded to the new
condition of things, and thus the first step toward the final conquest
was achieved. The natives were declared Spanish subjects, and hopeful
with the success thus far attained, Legaspi determined to send
dispatches to the king by the priest Urdaneta, who safely arrived at
Navidad on the 3d of October, 1565, and proceeded thence to Spain.

The pacification of Cebu and the adjacent islands was steadily and
successfully pursued by Legaspi; the confidence of the natives was
assured, and their dethroned king Tupas accepted Christian baptism,
while his daughter married a Spaniard.

In the midst of the invaders’ felicity, the Portuguese arrived to
dispute the possession, but they were compelled to retire. A fortress
was constructed and plots of land were marked out for the building of
the Spanish settlers’ residences, and finally, in 1570, Cebu was
declared a city, after Legaspi had received from his royal master the
title of governor-general of all the lands which he might be able to

In May, 1570, Captain Juan Salcedo, Legaspi’s grandson, was dispatched
to the Island of Luzon to reconnoiter the territory and bring it under
Spanish dominion.

The history of these early times is very confused, and there are many
contradictions in the authors of the Philippine chronicles, none of
which seems to have been written contemporaneously with the first
events. It appears, however, that Martin de Goiti and a few soldiers
accompanied Salcedo to the north. They were well received by the native
chiefs or petty kings Lacandola, rajah of Tondo (known as Rajah Matanda,
which means in native dialect the aged rajah), and his nephew, the young
Rajah Soliman of Manila.

The sight of a body of European troops, armed as was the custom in the
sixteenth century, must have profoundly impressed and overawed these
chieftains, otherwise it seems almost incredible that they should have
consented, without protest, or attempt at resistance, to (forever) give
up their territory, yield their independence, pay tribute,[8] and become
the tools of invading foreigners with which to conquer their own race,
without recompense whatsoever.

A treaty of peace was signed and ratified by an exchange of drops of
blood between the parties thereto. Soliman, however, soon repented of
his poltroonery, and raised the war-cry among some of his tribes. To
save his capital (then called Maynila) falling into the hands of the
invaders he set fire to it. Lacandola remained passively watching the
issue. Soliman was completely routed by Salcedo, and pardoned on his
again swearing fealty to the King of Spain. Goiti remained in the
vicinity of Manila with his troops, while Salcedo fought his way to the
Bombon Lake (Taal) district. The present Batangas Province was subdued
by him and included in the jurisdiction of Mindoro Island. During the
campaign, Salcedo was severely wounded by an arrow and returned to

Legaspi was in the Island of Panay when Salcedo (some writers say Goiti)
arrived to advise him of what had occurred in Luzon. They at once
proceeded together to Cavite, where Lacandola visited Legaspi on board,
and, prostrating himself, averred his submission. Then Legaspi continued
his journey to Manila, and was received there with acclamation. He took
formal possession of the surrounding territory, declared Manila to be
the capital of the archipelago, and proclaimed the sovereignty of the
King of Spain over the whole group of islands. Gaspar de San Augustin,
writing of this period, says: “He (Legaspi) ordered them (the natives)
to finish the building of the fort in construction at the mouth of the
river (Pasig), so that his majesty’s artillery might be mounted therein
for the defense of the port and the town. Also he ordered them to build
a large house inside the battlement walls for Legaspi’s own
residence--another large house and church for the priests, etc....
Besides these two large houses he told them to erect one hundred and
fifty dwellings of moderate size for the remainder of the Spaniards to
live in. All this they promptly promised to do, but they did not obey,
for the Spaniards were themselves obliged to terminate the work of the

The City Council of Manila was constituted on the 24th of June, 1571. On
the 20th of August, 1572, Miguel Lopez de Legaspi succumbed to the
fatigues of his arduous life, leaving behind him a name which will
always maintain a prominent place in Spanish colonial history. He was
buried in Manila in the Augustine Chapel of San Fausto, where hung the
royal standard and the hero’s armorial bearings until the British troops
occupied the city in 1763.

    “Death makes no conquest of this conqueror,
     For now he lives in fame, though not in life.”
      --“Richard III.,” Act 3, Sc. 1.

In the meantime Salcedo continued his task of subjecting the tribes in
the interior The natives of Taytay, and Cainta, in the present military
district of Morong, submitted to him on the 15th of August, 1571. He
returned to the Laguna de Bay to pacify the villagers, and penetrated as
far as Camarines Norte to explore the Bicol River. Bolinao and the
provinces of Pangasinan and Ilocos yielded to his prowess, and in this
last province he had well established himself when the defense of the
capital obliged him to return to Manila.

At the same time, Martin de Goiti was actively employed in overrunning
the Pampanga territory, with the double object of procuring supplies for
the Manila camp and coercing the inhabitants on his way to acknowledge
their now liege lord. It is recorded that in this expedition Goiti was
joined by the rajahs of Tondo and Manila. Yet Lacandola appears to have
been regarded more as a servant of the Spaniards _nolens volens_ than as
a free ally; for, because he absented himself from Goiti’s camp “without
license from the Maestre de Campo,” he was suspected by some writers of
having favored opposition to the Spaniards’ incursions in the Marshes of
Hagonoy (Pampanga coast, northern boundary of Manila Bay).

The district which constituted the ancient province of Taal y Balayan,
subsequently denominated Province of Batangas, was formerly governed by
a number of caciques, the most notable of which were Gatpagil and
Gatjinlintan. They were usually at war with their neighbors.
Gatjinlintan, the cacique of the Batangas River at the time of the
conquest, was famous for his valor. Gatsungayan, who ruled on the other
side of the river, was celebrated as a hunter of deer and wild boar.
These men were half-castes of Borneo and Aeta extraction, who formed a
distinct race called by the natives Daghagang. None of them would
submit to the King of Spain or become Christians, hence their
descendants were offered no privileges.

On the death of General Legaspi, the government of the colony was
assumed by the royal treasurer, Guido de Lavezares, in conformity with
the sealed instructions from the Supreme Court of Mexico, which were now
opened. During this period, the possession of the islands was
unsuccessfully disputed by a rival expedition under the command of a
Chinaman, Li-ma-hong, whom the Spaniards were pleased to term a pirate,
forgetting, perhaps, that they themselves had only recently wrested the
country from its former possessors by virtue of might against right.

On the coasts of his native country he had indeed been a pirate. For the
many depredations committed by him against private traders and property,
the Celestial Emperor, failing to catch him by cajolery, outlawed him.

Born in the port of Tiuchiu, Li-ma-hong at an early age evinced a
martial spirit and joined a band of corsairs, which for a long time had
been the terror of the China coasts. On the demise of his chief he was
unanimously elected leader of the buccaneering cruisers. At length,
pursued in all directions by the imperial ships of war, he determined to
attempt the conquest of the Philippines. Presumably the same incentives
which impelled the Spanish mariners to conquer lands and overthrow
dynasties--the vision of wealth, glory and empire--awakened a like
ambition in the Chinese adventurer. It was the spirit of the age.[9] In
his sea-wanderings he happened to fall in with a Chinese trading-junk
returning from Manila with the proceeds of her cargo sold there. This he
seized, and the captive crew were constrained to pilot his fleet toward
the capital of Luzon. From them he learned how easily the natives had
been plundered by a handful of foreigners--the probable extent of the
opposition he might encounter--the defenses established--the wealth and
resources of the district and the nature of its inhabitants.

His fleet consisted of sixty-two warships or armed junks, well found,
having on board two thousand sailors, two thousand soldiers, one
thousand five hundred women, a number of artisans, and all that could be
conveniently carried with which to gain and organize his new kingdom. On
its way the squadron cast anchor off the province of Ilocos Sur, where a
few troops were sent ashore to get provisions. While returning to the
junks, they sacked the village and set fire to the huts. The news of
this outrage was hastily communicated to Juan Salcedo, who had been
pacifying the northern provinces since July, 1572, and was at the time
in Villa Fernandina (now called Vigan). Li-ma-hong continued his course
until calms compelled his ships to anchor in the roads of Caoayan
(Ilocos coast), where a few Spanish soldiers were stationed under the
orders of Juan Salcedo, who still was in the immediate town of Vigan.
Under his direction, preparations were made to prevent the enemy
entering the river, but such was not Li-ma-hong’s intention. He again
set sail; while Salcedo, naturally supposing his course would be toward
Manila, also started at the same time for the capital with all the
fighting men he could collect, leaving only thirty men to garrison Vigan
and protect the State interests there.

On the 29th of November, 1574, the squadron arrived in the Bay of
Manila, and Li-ma-hong sent forward his lieutenant, Sioco--a
Japanese--at the head of six hundred fighting men, to demand the
surrender of the Spaniards. A strong gale, however, destroyed several of
his junks, in which about two hundred men perished.

With the remainder he reached the coast at Paranaque, a village a few
miles south of Manila. Thence, with towlines, the four hundred soldiers
hauled their junks up to the beach of the capital.

Already at the village of Malate the alarm was raised, but the Spaniards
could not give credit to the reports, and no resistance was offered
until the Chinese were within the gates of the city. Martin de Goiti,
the Maestre de Campo, second in command to the governor, was the first
victim of the attack.

The flames and smoke arising from his burning residence were the first
indications which the governor received of what was going on. The
Spaniards took refuge in the fort of Santiago, which the Chinese were on
the point of taking by storm, when their attention was drawn elsewhere
by the arrival of fresh troops led by a Spanish sub-lieutenant. Under
the mistaken impression that these were the vanguard of a formidable
corps, Sioco sounded the retreat. A bloody hand-to-hand combat
followed, and with great difficulty the Chinese collected their dead and
regained their junks.

In the meantime Li-ma-hong, with the reserved forces, was lying in the
roadstead of Cavite, and Sioco hastened to report to him the result of
the attack, which had cost the invader over one hundred dead and more
than that number wounded. Thereupon Li-ma-hong resolved to rest his
troops and renew the conflict in two days’ time under his personal
supervision. The next day Juan Salcedo arrived by sea with
re-enforcements from Vigan, and preparations were unceasingly made for
the expected encounter. Salcedo having been appointed to the office of
Maestre de Campo, vacant since the death of Goiti, the organization of
the defense was intrusted to his immediate care.

By daybreak on the 3d of December, the enemy’s fleet hove-to off the
capital, where Li-ma-hong harangued his troops, while the cornets and
drums of the Spaniards were sounding the alarm for their fighting men to
assemble in the fort.

Then fifteen hundred chosen men, well armed, were disembarked under the
leadership of Sioco, who swore to take the place or die in the attempt.
Sioco separated his forces into three divisions. The city was set fire
to, and Sioco advanced toward the fort, into which hand-grenades were
thrown, while Li-ma-hong supported the attack with his ships’ cannon.

Sioco, with his division, at length entered the fort, and a hand-to-hand
fight ensued. For a while the issue was doubtful. Salcedo fought like a
lion. Even the aged governor was well at the front to encourage the
deadly struggle for existence. The Spaniards finally gained the
victory; the Chinese were repulsed with great slaughter; and their
leader having been killed, they fled in complete disorder. Salcedo,
profiting by the confusion, now took the offensive and followed up the
enemy, pursuing them along the sea-shore, where they were joined by the
third division, which had remained inactive. The panic of the Chinese
spread rapidly, and Li-ma-hong, in despair, landed another contingent of
about five hundred men, while he still continued afloat; but even with
this re-enforcement the morale of his army could not be regained.

The Chinese troops therefore, harassed on all sides, made a precipitate
retreat on board the fleet, and Li-ma-hong set sail again for the west
coast of the island. Foiled in the attempt to possess himself of Manila,
Li-ma-hong determined to set up his capital in other parts. In a few
days he arrived at the mouth of the Agno River, in the province of
Pangasinan, where he proclaimed to the natives that he had gained a
signal victory over the Spaniards. The inhabitants there, having no
particular choice between two masters, received Li-ma-hong with welcome,
and he thereupon set about the foundation of his new capital some four
miles from the mouth of the river.

Months passed before the Spaniards came in force to dislodge the
invader. Feeling themselves secure in their new abode, the Chinese had
built many dwellings, a small fortress, a pagoda, etc. At length an
expedition was dispatched under the command of Juan Salcedo. This was
composed of about two hundred and fifty Spaniards and one thousand six
hundred natives well equipped with small arms, ammunition and
artillery. The flower of the Spanish colony, accompanied by two priests
and the Rajah of Tondo, set out to expel the formidable foe. Li-ma-hong
made a bold resistance and refused to come to terms with Salcedo. In the
meantime, the Viceroy of Fokien, having heard of Li-ma-hong’s daring
exploits, had commissioned a ship of war to discover the whereabout of
his imperial master’s old enemy. The envoy was received with delight by
the Spaniards, who invited him to accompany them to Manila to interview
the governor.

Li-ma-hong still held out, but perceiving that an irresistible onslaught
was being projected against him by Salcedo’s party, he very cunningly
and quite unexpectedly gave them the slip, and sailed out of the river
with his ships by one of the mouths unknown to his enemies.[10] In order
to divert the attention of the Spaniards, Li-ma-hong ingeniously feigned
an assault in an opposite quarter. Of course, on his escape, he had to
abandon the troops employed in this maneuver. These, losing all hope,
and having, indeed, nothing but their lives to fight for, fled to the
mountains. Hence, it is popularly supposed that from these fugitives
descends the race of people in that province still distinguishable by
their oblique eyes and known by the name of Igorrote-Chinese.

“Aide toi et Dieu t’aidera” is an old French maxim, but the Spaniards
chose to attribute their deliverance from their Chinese rival to the
friendly intervention of Saint Andrew. This saint was declared
thenceforth to be the patron saint of Manila, and in his honor High Mass
is celebrated in the Cathedral at 8 A.M. on the 30th of each November.
It is a public holiday and gala-day, when all the highest civil,
military and religious authorities attend the “Funcion votiva de San
Andrés.” This opportunity to assert the supremacy of ecclesiastical
power was not lost to the Church, and for many years it was the custom,
after hearing Mass, to spread the Spanish national flag on the floor of
the Cathedral for the metropolitan archbishop to walk over it. It has
been asserted, however, that a few years ago the governor-general
refused to witness this antiquated formula, which, in public at least,
no longer obtains. Now it is the practice to carry the royal standard
before the altar. Both before and after the Mass, the bearer (Alférez
Real), wearing his hat and accompanied by the mayor of the city, stands
on the altar-floor, raises his hat three times, and three times dips the
flag before the Image of Christ, then, facing the public, he repeats
this ceremony. On Saint Andrew’s eve, the royal standard is borne in
procession from the Cathedral through the principal streets of the city,
escorted by civil functionaries and followed by a band of music. This
ceremony is known as the “Paseo del Real Pendon.”

According to Juan de la Concepcion, the Rajahs[11] Soliman and Lacandola
took advantage of these troubles to raise a rebellion against the
Spaniards. The natives too of Mindoro Island revolted and maltreated
the priests, but all these disturbances were speedily quelled by a
detachment of soldiers.

The governor willingly accepted the offer of the commander of the
Chinese man-of-war to convey embassadors to his country to visit the
viceroy and make a commercial treaty. Therefore two priests, Martin Rada
and Geronimo Martin, were commissioned to carry a letter of greeting and
presents to this personage, who received them with great distinction,
but objected to their residing in the country.

After the defeat of Li-ma-hong, Juan Salcedo again repaired to the
northern provinces of Luzon Island, to continue his task of reducing the
natives to submission. On the 11th of March, 1576, he died of fever near
Vigan (then called Villa Fernandina), capital of the province of Ilocos
Sur. A year afterward, what could be found of his bones were placed in
the ossuary of his illustrious grandfather, Legaspi, in the Augustine
Chapel of Saint Fausto, Manila. His skull, however, which had been
carried off by the natives of Ilocos, could not be recovered in spite of
all threats and promises. In Vigan there is a small monument raised to
commemorate the deeds of this famous warrior, and there is also a street
bearing his name.

For several years following these events, the question of prestige in
the civil affairs of the colony was acrimoniously contested by the
governor-general, the supreme court and the ecclesiastics.

The governor was censured by his opponents for alleged undue exercise of
arbitrary authority. The supreme court, established on the Mexican
model, was reproached with seeking to overstep the limits of its
functions. Every legal quibble was adjusted by a dilatory process,
impracticable in a colony yet in its infancy, where summary justice was
indispensable for the maintenance of order imperfectly understood by the
masses. But the fault lay less with the justices than with the
constitution of the court itself. Nor was this state of affairs improved
by the growing discontent and immoderate ambition of the clergy, who
unremittingly urged their pretensions to immunity from State control,
affirming the supramundane condition of their office.

An excellent code of laws, called the Leyes de Indias, in force in
Mexico, was adopted here, but modifications in harmony with the special
conditions of this colony were urgently necessary, while all the
branches of government called for reorganization or reform. Under these
circumstances, the bishop of Manila, Domingo Salazar, took the
initiative in commissioning a priest, Fray Alonso Sanchez, to repair
first to the viceroy of Mexico and afterward to the King of Spain, to
expose the grievances of his party.

Alonso Sanchez left the Philippines with his appointment as
procurator-general for the Augustine order of monks. As the execution of
the proposed reforms, which he was charged to lay before his majesty,
would, if conceded, be intrusted to the government of Mexico, his first
care was to seek the partisanship of the viceroy of that colony; and in
this he succeeded. Thence he continued his journey to Seville, where the
court happened to be, arriving there in September, 1587. He was at once
granted an audience by the king, to present his credentials and
memorials relative to Philippine affairs in general; and ecclesiastical
judicial, military and native matters in particular. The king promised
to peruse all the documents, but suffering from gout, and having so many
and distinct State concerns to attend to, the negotiations were greatly
delayed. Finally, Sanchez sought a minister who had easy access to the
royal apartments, and this personage obtained from the king permission
to examine the documents and hand to him a succinct resumé of the whole
for his majesty’s consideration. A commission was then appointed,
including Sanchez, and the deliberations lasted five months.

At this period, public opinion in the Spanish universities was very
divided with respect to Catholic missions in the Indies.

Some maintained that the propaganda of the faith ought to be purely
Apostolic, such as Jesus Christ taught to his disciples, inculcating
doctrines of humility and poverty without arms or violence, and if,
nevertheless, the heathens refused to welcome this mission of peace, the
missionaries should simply abandon them in silence without further
demonstration than that of shaking the dust off their feet.

Others opined, and among them was Sanchez, that such a method was
useless and impracticable, and that it was justifiable to force their
religion upon primitive races at the point of the sword if necessary,
using any violence to enforce its acceptance.

Much ill-feeling was aroused in the discussion of these two and distinct
theories. Juan Volante, a Dominican friar of the Convent of Our Lady of
Atocha, presented a petition against the views of the Sanchez faction,
declaring that the idea of ingrafting religion with the aid of arms was
scandalous. Fray Juan Volante was so importunate, that he had to be
heard in council, but neither party yielded. At length, the intervention
of the bishops of Manila, Macao and Malacca and several captains and
governors in the Indies influenced the king to put an end to the
controversy, on the ground that it would lead to no good.

The king retired to the Monastery of the Escorial, and Sanchez was cited
to meet him there to learn the royal will. About the same time the news
reached the king of the loss of the so-called Invincible Armada, sent
under the command of the incompetent Duke of Medina Sidonia to annex
England. Notwithstanding this severe blow to the vain ambition of
Philip, the affairs of the Philippines were delayed but a short time. On
the basis of the recommendation of the junta, the royal assent was given
to an important decree, of which the most significant articles are the
following, namely:--The tribute was fixed by the king at ten reales per
annum, payable by the natives in gold, silver, or grain, or part in one
commodity and part in the other. Of this tribute, eight reales were to
be paid to the treasury, one half real to the bishop and clergy, and one
real and a half to be applied to the maintenance of the soldiery. Full
tribute was not to be exacted from the natives still unsubjected to the
crown. Until their confidence and loyalty should be gained by friendly
overtures, they were to pay a small recognition of vassalage, and
subsequently the tribute in common with the rest.

Instead of one-fifth value of gold and hidden treasure due to his
majesty (real quinto), he would henceforth receive only one-tenth of
such value, excepting that of gold, which the natives would be permitted
to extract free of rebate.

A customs duty of 3 per cent ad valorem was to be paid on merchandise
sold, and this duty was to be spent on the army.

Export duty was to be paid on goods shipped to New Spain (Mexico), and
this impost was also to be exclusively spent on the armed forces.

The number of European troops in the colony was fixed at four hundred
men-at-arms, divided into six companies, each under a captain, a
sub-lieutenant, a sergeant, and two corporals. Their pay was to be as
follows, namely: Captain thirty-five dollars, sub-lieutenant twenty
dollars, sergeant ten dollars, corporal seven dollars, rank and file six
dollars per month; besides which, an annual gratuity of ten thousand
dollars was to be proportionately distributed to all.

Recruits from Mexico were not to enlist under the age of fifteen years.

The captain-general was to have a body-guard of twenty-four men
(halberdiers), with the pay of those of the line, under the immediate
command of a captain to be paid fifteen dollars per month.

Salaries due to State employés were to be punctually paid when due; and
when funds were wanted for that purpose they were to be supplied from

The king made a donation of twelve thousand dollars, which, with another
like sum to be contributed by the Spaniards themselves, would serve to
liquidate the debts incurred on their first occupation of the islands.

The governor and bishop were recommended to consider the project of a
refuge for young Spanish women arrived from Spain, and to study the
question of dowries for native women married to poor Spaniards.

The offices of secretaries and notaries were no longer to be sold, but
conferred on persons who merited such appointments.

The governors were instructed not to make grants of land to their
relations, servants or friends, but solely to those who should have
resided at least three years in the islands, and have worked the lands
so conceded. Any grants which might have already been made to the
relations of the governors or magistrates were to be canceled.

The rent paid by the Chinese for the land they occupied was to be
applied to the necessities of the capital.

The governor and bishop were to enjoin the judges not to permit costly
lawsuits, but to execute summary justice verbally, and, so far as
possible, fines were not to be inflicted.

The city of Manila was to be fortified in a manner to insure it against
all further attacks or risings.

Four penitentiaries were to be established in the islands in the most
convenient places, with the necessary garrisons, and six to eight
galleys and frigates well armed and ready for defense against the
English corsairs which might come by way of the Moluccas.

In the most remote and unexplored parts of the islands, the governor was
to have unlimited powers to act as he should please, without consulting
his majesty; but projected enterprises of conversion, pacification,
etc., at the expense of the royal treasury, were to be submitted to a
council, comprising the bishop, the captains, etc. The governor was
authorized to capitulate and agree with the captains and others who
might care to undertake conversions and pacifications on their own
account, and to concede the title of Maestre de Campo to such persons,
on condition that such capitulations should be forwarded to his majesty
for ratification.

Only those persons domiciled in the islands would be permitted to trade
with them.

A sum of one thousand dollars was to be taken from the tributes paid
into the royal treasury for the foundation of the hospital for the
Spaniards, and the annual sum of six hundred dollars, appropriated by
the governor for its support, was confirmed. Moreover, the royal
treasury of Mexico was to send clothing to the value of four hundred
ducats for the hospital use.

The hospital for the natives was to receive an annual donation of six
hundred dollars for its support, and an immediate supply of clothing
from Mexico to the value of two hundred dollars.

Slaves held by Spaniards were to be immediately set at liberty. No
native was thenceforth to be enslaved. All new-born natives were
declared free. The bondage of all existing slaves from ten years of age
was to cease on their attaining twenty years of age. Those above twenty
years of age were to serve five years longer, and then become free. At
any time, notwithstanding the foregoing conditions, they would be
entitled to purchase their liberty, the price of which was to be
determined by the governor and the bishop.[12]

There being no tithes payable to the church by Spaniards or natives, the
clergy were to receive for their maintenance the half real above
mentioned in lieu thereof, from the tribute paid by each native
subjected to the crown. When the Spaniards should have crops, they were
to pay tithes to the clergy.

A grant was made of twelve thousand ducats for the building and
ornaments of the Cathedral, and an immediate advance of two thousand
ducats, on account of this grant, was made from the funds to be remitted
from Mexico.

Forty Austin friars were to be sent at once to the Philippines, to be
followed by missionaries from other corporations. The king allowed five
hundred dollars to be paid against the one thousand dollars’ passage
money for each priest, the balance to be defrayed out of the common
funds of the clergy, derived from their share of the tribute.

Missionaries in great numbers had already flocked to the Philippines and
roamed wherever they thought fit, without license from the bishop, whose
authority they utterly repudiated.

Affirming that they had the direct consent of his holiness the Pope,
they menaced with excommunication whosoever attempted to impede them in
their free peregrination. Five years after the foundation of Manila, the
city and environs were infested with niggardly mendicant friars, whose
slothful habits placed their supercilious countrymen in ridicule before
the natives. They were tolerated but a short time in the islands; not
altogether because of the ruin they would have brought to European moral
influence on the untutored tribes, but because the bishop was highly
jealous of all competition against the Augustine order to which he
belonged. Consequent on the representations of Fray Alonso Sanchez, his
majesty ordained that all priests who went to the Philippines were, in
the first place, to resolve never to quit the islands without the
bishop’s sanction, which was to be conceded with great circumspection
and only in extreme cases, while the governor was instructed not to
afford them means of exit on his sole authority.

Neither did the bishop regard with satisfaction the presence of the
commissary of the Inquisition, whose secret investigations, shrouded
with mystery, curtailed the liberty of the loftiest functionary, sacred
or civil. At the instigation of Fray Alonso Sanchez, the junta
recommended the king to recall the commissary and extinguish the office,
but he refused to do so. In short, the chief aims of the bishop were to
enhance the power of the friars, raise the dignity of the colonial
miter, and secure a religious monopoly for the Augustine order.

Gomez Perez Dasmarinas was the next governor appointed to these islands,
on the recommendation of Fray Alonso Sanchez. In the royal instructions
which he brought with him were embodied all the above mentioned civil,
ecclesiastical and military reforms.

At the same time, King Philip abolished the supreme court. He wished to
put an end to the interminable lawsuits so prejudicial to the
development of the colony. Therefore the president and magistrates were
replaced by justices of the peace, and the former returned to Mexico in
1591. This measure served only to widen the breach between the bishop
and the civil government. Dasmarinas compelled him to keep within the
sphere of his sacerdotal functions, and tolerated no rival in State
concerns. There was no appeal on the spot against the governor’s
authority. This restraint irritated and disgusted the bishop to such a
degree, that at the age of seventy-eight years he resolved to present
himself at the Spanish court. On his arrival there, he manifested to the
king the impossibility of one bishop attending to the spiritual wants of
a people dispersed over so many islands. For seven years after the
foundation of Manila, as capital of the archipelago, its principal
church was simply a parish church. In 1578 it was raised to the dignity
of a cathedral, at the instance of the king. Three years after this date
the Cathedral of Manila was solemnly declared to be a “Suffragan
Cathedral of Mexico, under the Advocation of Our Lady of the Immaculate
Conception”; Domingo Salazar being the first bishop consecrated. He now
proposed to raise the Manila see to an archbishopric, with three
suffragan bishops. The king gave his consent, subject to approval from
Rome, and, this following in due course, Salazar was appointed first
archbishop of Manila; but he died before the Papal Bull arrived, dated
the 14th of August, 1595, officially authorizing his investiture.

In the meantime, Alonso Sanchez had proceeded to Rome in May, 1589.
Among many other Pontifical favors conceded to him, he obtained the
right for himself, or his assigns, to use a die or stamp of any form
with one or more images; to be chosen by the holder, and to contain also
the figure of Christ, the Very Holy Virgin, or the Saint--Peter or Paul.
On the reverse was to be engraven a bust portrait of His Holiness with
the following indulgences attached thereto, viz.:-“To him who should
convey the word of God to the infidels, or give them notice of the holy
mysteries--each time 300 years’ indulgence. To him who, by industry,
converted any one of these, or brought him to the bosom of the
Church--full indulgence for all sins.” A number of minor indulgences
were conceded for services to be rendered to the Pontificate, and for
the praying so many Pater Nosters and Ave Marias. This Bull was dated in
Rome the 28th of July, 1591.

Popes Gregory XIV. and Innocent IX. granted other Bulls relating to the
rewards for using beads, medals, crosses, pictures, blessed images,
etc., with which one could gain nine plenary indulgences every day or
rescue nine souls from purgatory; and each day, twice over, all the full
indulgences yet given in and out of Rome could be obtained for living
and deceased persons.

Sanchez returned to Spain (where he died), bringing with him the body of
Saint Policarp, a relic of Saint Potenciana, and one hundred and
fifty-seven martyrs; among them, twenty-seven popes, for remission to
the Cathedral of Manila.

The supreme court was re-established with the same faculties as those of
Mexico and Lima in 1598, and since then, on seven occasions, when the
governorship has been vacant, it has acted pro tem. The following
interesting account of the pompous ceremonial attending the reception of
the Royal Seal, restoring this court, is given by Concepcion.[13] He
says: “The Royal Seal of office was received from the ship with the
accustomed solemnity. It was contained in a chest covered with purple
velvet and trimmings of silver and gold, over which hung a cloth of
purple and gold. It was escorted by a majestic accompaniment, marching
to the sounds of clarions and cymbals and other musical instruments. The
cortege passed through the noble city with rich vestments and leg
trimmings and uncovered heads. Behind these followed a horse, gorgeously
caparisoned and girthed, for the president to place the coffer
containing the Royal Seal upon its back. The streets were beautifully
adorned with exquisite drapery. The high bailiff, magnificently robed,
took the reins in hand to lead the horse under a purple velvet pall
bordered with gold. The magistrates walked on either side; the aldermen
of the city, richly clad, carried their staves of office in the august
procession, which concluded with a military escort, standard-bearers,
etc., and proceeded to the Cathedral, where it was met by the dean,
holding a Cross. As the company entered the sacred edifice, the Te Deum
was intoned by a band of music.”

In 1886 a supreme court, exactly similar to, and independent of, that of
Manila, was established in the city of Cebu. The question of precedence
in official acts having been soon after disputed between the president
of the court and the brigadier-governor of Visayas, it was decided in
favor of the latter, on appeal to the governor-general. In the meantime,
the advisability of abolishing the supreme court of Cebu was debated by
the public.

Consequent on the union of the crowns of Portugal and Spain (1581 to
1640), the feuds, as between nations, diplomatically subsided, although
the individual antagonism was as rife as ever.

Spanish and Portuguese interests in the Moluccas, as elsewhere, were
thenceforth officially mutual. In the Moluccas group, the old contests
between the then rival kingdoms had estranged the natives from their
forced alliances. Anti-Portuguese and Philo-Portuguese parties had
sprung up among the petty sovereignties, but the Portuguese fort and
factory established in Ternate Island were held for many years, despite
all contentions. But another rivalry, as formidable and more detrimental
than that of the Portuguese in days gone by, now menaced Spanish

From the close of the sixteenth century up to the year of the “Family
Compact” wars (1763), Holland and Spain were relentless foes. To recount
the numerous combats between their respective fleets during this period
would itself require a volume. It will suffice here to show the bearing
of these political conflicts upon the concerns of the Philippine
colony. The Treaty of Antwerp, which was wrung from the Spaniards in
1609, twenty-eight years after the union of Spain and Portugal, broke
the scourge of their tyranny, while it failed to assuage the mutual
antipathy. One of the consequences of the “Wars of the Flanders,” which
terminated with this treaty, was that the Dutch were obliged to seek in
the Far East the merchandise which had hitherto been supplied to them
from the Peninsula. The short-sighted policy of the Spaniards in closing
to the Dutch the Portuguese markets, which were now theirs, brought upon
themselves the destruction of the monopolies which they had gained by
the union. The Dutch were now free, and their old tyrant’s policy
induced them to independently establish their own trading headquarters
in the Molucca Islands, whence they could obtain directly the produce
forbidden to them in the home ports. Hence, from those islands, the
ships of a powerful Netherlands Trading Company sallied forth from time
to time to meet the Spanish galleons from Mexico with silver and
manufactured goods.

Previous to this, and during the Wars of the Flanders, Dutch corsairs
hovered about the waters of the Moluccas, to take reprisals from the
Spaniards. These encounters frequently took place at the eastern
entrance of the San Bernadino Straits, where the Dutch were accustomed
to hove-to in anticipation of the arrival of their prizes.

In this manner, constantly roving about the Philippine waters, they
enriched themselves at the expense of their detested adversary, and, in
a small degree, avenged themselves of the bloodshed and oppression
which for over sixty years had desolated the Low Countries.

The Philippine colony lost immense sums in the seizure of its galleons
from Mexico, upon which it almost entirely depended for subsistence.
Being a dependency of New Spain, its whole intercourse with the
civilized world, its supplies of troops and European manufactured
articles, were contingent upon the safe arrival of the galleons. Also
the dollars with which they annually purchased cargoes from the Chinese
for the galleons came from Mexico.

Consequently, the Dutch usually took the aggressive in these
sea-battles, although they were not always victorious. When there were
no ships to meet, they bombarded the ports where others were being
built. The Spaniards, on their part, from time to time fitted out
vessels to run down to the Moluccas to attack the enemy in his own

During the governorship of Gomez Perez Dasmarinas (1590-1593), the
native king of Siao Island--one of the Moluccas group--came to Manila to
offer homage and vassalage to the representative of the King of Spain
and Portugal, in return for protection against the incursions of the
Dutch and the raids of the Ternate natives. Dasmarinas received him and
the Spanish priests who accompanied him with affability, and, being
satisfied with his credentials, he prepared a large expedition to go to
the Moluccas to set matters in order. The fleet was composed of several
frigates, one ship, six galleys and one hundred small vessels, all well
armed. The fighting men numbered one hundred Spaniards, four hundred
Pampanga and Tagalog arquebusiers, one thousand Visayas archers and
lancers, besides one hundred Chinese to row the galleys. This
expedition, which was calculated to be amply sufficient to subdue all
the Moluccas, sailed from Cavite on the 6th of October, 1593. The
sailing ships having got far ahead of the galleys, they hove-to off
Punta de Azufre (N. of Maricaban Island) to wait for them. The galleys
arrived; and the next day they were able to start again in company.
Meanwhile a conspiracy was formed by the Chinese galleymen to murder all
the Spaniards. Assuming these Chinese to be volunteers, their action
would appear most wanton and base. If, however, as is most probable,
they were pressed into this military service to foreigners, it seems
quite natural that, being forced to bloodshed without alternative, they
should first fight for their own liberty.

All but the Chinese were asleep, and they fell upon the Spaniards in a
body. Eighteen of the troops and four slaves escaped by jumping into the
sea. The governor was sleeping in his cabin, but awoke on hearing the
noise. He supposed the ship had grounded, and was coming up the
companion en deshabille, when a Chinaman cleaved his head with a
cutlass. The governor reached his stateroom, and taking his missal and
the Image of the Virgin in his hand, he died in six hours. The Chinese
did not venture below, where the priests and armed soldiers were hidden.
They cleared the decks of all their opponents, made fast the hatches and
gangways, and waited three days, when, after putting ashore those who
were still alive, they escaped to Cochin-China, where the king and
mandarins seized the vessel and all she carried. On board were found
twelve thousand dollars in coin, some silver, and jewels belonging to
the governor and his suite.

Thus the expedition was brought to an untimely end. The King of Siao,
and the missionaries accompanying him, had started in advance for Otong
(Panay Island) to wait for the governor, and there they received the
news of the disaster.

Among the most notable of the successful expeditions of the Spaniards
was that of Pedro Bravo de Acuna, in 1606, which consisted of nineteen
frigates, nine galleys and eight small craft, carrying a total of about
two thousand men and provisions for a prolonged struggle. The result
was, that they subdued a petty sultan friendly to the Dutch, and
established a fortress on his island.

About the year 1607, the supreme court (the governorship being vacant
from 1606 to 1608) hearing that a Dutch vessel was hovering off Ternate,
sent a ship against it, commanded by Pedro de Heredia. A combat ensued.
The Dutch commander was taken prisoner with several of his men, and
lodged in the fort at Ternate, but was ransomed on payment of fifty
thousand dollars to the Spanish commander. Heredia returned joyfully to
Manila, where, much to his surprise, he was prosecuted by the supreme
court for exceeding his instructions, and expired of melancholy. The
ransomed Dutch leader was making his way back to his headquarters in a
small ship, peacefully, and without hostilizing the Spaniards in any
way, when the supreme court treacherously sent a galley and a frigate
after him to make him prisoner a second time. Overwhelmed by numbers
and arms, and little expecting such perfidious conduct of the Spaniards,
he was at once arrested and brought to Manila. The Dutch returned
twenty-two Spanish prisoners of war to Manila to ransom him; but while
these were retained, the Dutch commander was, nevertheless, imprisoned
for life.

Some years afterward, a Dutch squadron anchored off the south point of
Bataan Province, not far from Punta Marivelez, at the entrance to Manila
Bay. Juan de Silva, the governor (from 1609 to 1616), was in great
straits. Several ships had been lost by storms, others were away, and
there was no adequate floating armament with which to meet the enemy.
However, the Dutch lay-to for five or six months, waiting to seize the
Chinese and Japanese traders’ goods on their way to the Manila market.
They secured immense booty, and were in no hurry to open hostilities.
This delay gave Silva time to prepare vessels to attack the foe. In the
interval, he dreamed that Saint Mark had offered to help him defeat the
Dutch. On awaking, he called a priest, whom he consulted about the
dream, and they agreed that the nocturnal vision was a sign from Heaven
denoting a victory. The priest went (from Cavite) to Manila to procure a
relic of this glorious intercessor, and returned with his portrait to
the governor, who adored it. In haste the ships and armament were
prepared. On Saint Mark’s day, therefore, the Spaniards sallied forth
from Cavite with six ships, carrying seventy guns, and two galleys and
two launches also well armed, besides a number of small light vessels,
to assist in the formation of line of battle.

All the European fighting men in Manila and Cavite embarked--over one
thousand Spaniards--the flower of the colony, together with a large
force of natives, who were taught to believe that the Dutch were
infidels. On the issue of this day’s events perchance depended the
possession of the colony. Manila and Cavite were garrisoned by
volunteers. Orations were offered in the churches. The Miraculous Image
of Our Lady of the Guide was taken in procession from the Hermit, and
exposed to public view in the Cathedral. The saints of the different
churches and sanctuaries were adored and exhibited daily. The governor
himself took the supreme command, and dispelled all wavering doubt in
his subordinates by proclaiming Saint Mark’s promise of intercession. On
his ship he hoisted the royal standard, on which was embroidered the
Image of the Holy Virgin, with the motto: “Mostrate esse Matrem,” and
over a beautifully calm sea he led the way to battle.

A shot from the Spanish heavy artillery opened the bloody combat. The
Dutch were completely vanquished, after a fierce struggle which lasted
six hours. Their three ships were destroyed, and their flags, artillery,
and plundered merchandise to the value of three hundred thousand dollars
were seized. This famous engagement was thenceforth known as the battle
of Playa Honda.

Again in 1611, under Silva, a squadron sailed to the Moluccas and
defeated the Dutch off Giolo Island.

In 1617, the Spaniards had a successful engagement off the Zambales
coast with the Dutch, who lost three of their ships.

In July, 1620, three Mexican galleons were met by three Dutch vessels
off Cape Espiritu Santo (Samar Island), at the entrance of the San
Bernadino Straits, but managed to escape in the dark. Two ran ashore and
broke up; the third reached Manila. After this the governor-general,
Alonzo Fajardo de Tua, ordered the course of the State ships to be
varied on each voyage.

In 1625, the Dutch again appeared off the Zambales coast, and Geronimo
de Silva went out against them. The Spaniards, having lost one man,
relinquished the pursuit of the enemy, and the commander was brought to
trial by the supreme court.

In 1626, at the close of the governorship of Fernando de Silva, a
Spanish colony was founded on Formosa Island, but no supplies were sent
to it, and consequently in 1642 it surrendered to the Dutch, who held it
for twenty years, until they were driven out by the Chinese adventurer
Keuseng. And thus for over a century and a half the strife continued,
until the Dutch concentrated their attention in the development of their
Eastern colonies, which the power of Spain, growing more and more
effete, was incompetent to impede.

In 1761, King George III. had just succeeded to the throne of England,
and the protracted contentions with France had been suspended for a
while. It was soon evident, however, that efforts were being employed to
extinguish the power and prestige of Great Britain, and with this object
a convention had been entered into between France and Spain known as the
“Family Compact.” It was so called because it was an alliance made by
the three branches of the House of Bourbon; namely, Louis XV. of France,
Charles III. of Spain, and his son Ferdinand, who, in accordance with
the Treaty of Vienna, had ascended the throne of Naples. Spain engaged
to unite her forces with those of France against England on the 1st of
May, 1762, if the war still lasted, in which case France would restore
Minorca to Spain. Pitt was convinced of the necessity of meeting the
coalition by force of arms, but he was unable to secure the support of
his Ministry to declare war, and he therefore retired from the
premiership. The succeeding Cabinet was, nevertheless, compelled to
adopt his policy, and, after having lost many advantages by delaying
their decision, war was declared against France and Spain.

The British were successful everywhere. In the West Indies, the
Caribbean Islands and Havana were captured, with great booty, by Rodney
and Monckton, while a British fleet was dispatched to the Philippine
Islands with orders to take Manila.

There are many versions of this event given by different historians, and
among them there is not wanting an author who, following the Spanish
custom, has accounted for defeat by alleging treason.

On the 14th of September, 1762, a British vessel arrived in the Bay of
Manila, refused to admit Spanish officers on board, and after taking
soundings she sailed again out of the harbor.

In the evening of the 22d of September, the British squadron, composed
of thirteen ships, under the command of Admiral Cornish, entered the
bay, and the next day two British officers were deputed to demand the
surrender of the citadel, which was refused.

Brigadier-general Draper thereupon disembarked his troops, and again
called upon the city to yield. This citation being defied, the
bombardment commenced the next day. The fleet anchored in front of a
powder-magazine, took possession of the churches of Malate, Hermita, San
Juan de Bagumbayan and Santiago. Two picket guards made an unsuccessful
sortie against them. The whole force in Manila at the time was the
king’s regiment, which mustered about six hundred men, and eighty pieces
of artillery. The British forces consisted of one thousand five hundred
European troops (one regiment of infantry and two companies of
artillery), three thousand seamen, eight hundred Sepoy fusileers and one
thousand four hundred Sepoy pioneers, making a total of six thousand
eight hundred and thirty men.

There was no governor-general here at the time, and the only person with
whom the British commander could treat was the acting-governor, the
Archbishop Manuel Antonio Rojo, who was willing to yield. His authority
was, however, set aside by a rebellious war party, who placed themselves
under the leadership of a magistrate of the supreme court named Simon de
Anda y Salazar. This individual, instead of leading them to battle, fled
to the province of Bulacan, the day before the capture of Manila, in a
prahu with a few natives, carrying with him some money and half a ream
of official stamped paper. He knew perfectly well that he was defying
the legal authority of the acting-governor, and was, in fact, in open
rebellion against his mandate. It was necessary, therefore, to give an
official color to his acts by issuing his orders and proclamations on
government-stamped paper, so that their validity might be recognized if
he subsequently succeeded in justifying his action at court.

On the 24th of September the Spanish batteries of San Diego and San
Andres opened fire, but with little effect. A richly laden galleon--the
“Philipino”--was known to be on her way from Mexico to Manila, but the
British ships which were sent in quest of her fell in with another
galleon--the “Trinidad”--and brought their prize to Manila. Her treasure
amounted to about two million five hundred thousand dollars.

A Frenchman resident in Manila, Monsieur Faller, made an attack on the
British, who forced him to retire, and he was then accused by the
Spaniards of treason. Artillery fire was kept up on both sides. The
archbishop’s nephew was taken prisoner, and an officer was sent with him
to hand him over to his uncle. However, a party of natives fell upon
them and murdered them all. The officer’s head having been cut off, it
was demanded by General Draper. Excuses were made for not giving it up,
and the general determined thenceforth to continue the warfare with
vigor and punish this atrocity. The artillery was increased by another
battery of three mortars, placed behind the Church of Santiago, and the
bombardment continued.

Five thousand native recruits arrived from the provinces, and out of
this number two thousand Pampangos were selected. They were divided into
three columns, in order to advance by different routes and attack
respectively the Church of Santiago, Malate and Hermita, and the troops
on the beach. At each place they were driven back. The leader of the
attack on Malate and Hermita--Don Santiago Orendain--was declared a
traitor. The first two columns were dispersed with great confusion and
loss. The third column retreated before they had sustained or inflicted
any loss. The natives fled to their villages in dismay, and on the 5th
of October the British entered the walled city. After a couple of hours’
bombardment the forts of San Andres and San Eugenio were demolished, the
artillery overturned, and the enemy’s fusileers and sappers were killed.

A council of war was now held by the Spaniards. General Draper sustained
the authority of the archbishop against the war-party, composed chiefly
of civilians, who determined to continue the defense in spite of the
opinion of the military men, who argued that a capitulation was
inevitable. But matters were brought to a crisis by the natives, who
refused to repair the fortifications, and the Europeans were unable to
perform such hard labor. Great confusion reigned in the city--the clergy
fled through the Puerto del Parian, where there was still a native
guard. According to Zuniga, the British spent twenty thousand cannon
balls and five thousand shells in the bombardment of the city.

Major Fell entered the city at the head of his troops and General Draper
followed, leading his column unopposed, with two field pieces in the
van, while a constant musketry fire cleared the Calle Real as they
advanced. The people fled before the enemy. The gates being closed, they
scrambled up the walls and got into boats or swam off.

Colonel Monson was sent by Draper to the archbishop-governor to say that
he expected immediate surrender. This was disputed by the archbishop,
who presented a paper purporting to be terms of capitulation. The
colonel refused to take it, and demanded an unconditional surrender.
Then the archbishop, a colonel of the Spanish troops and Colonel Monson
went to interview the general, whose quarters were in the palace. The
archbishop, offering himself as a prisoner, presented the terms of
capitulation, which provided for the free exercise of their religion;
security of private property; free trade to all the inhabitants of the
islands, and the continuation of the powers of the supreme court to keep
order among the ill-disposed. These terms were granted, but General
Draper, on his part, stipulated for an indemnity of four millions of
dollars, and it was agreed to pay one-half of this sum in specie and
valuables and the other half in treasury bills on Madrid. The
capitulation, with these modifications, was signed by Draper and the
archbishop-governor. The Spanish colonel took the document to the fort
to have it countersigned by the magistrates, which was at once done; the
fort was delivered up to the British, and the magistrates retired to the
palace to pay their respects to the conqueror.

When the British flag was seen floating from the fort of Santiago there
was great cheering from the British fleet. The archbishop stated that
when Draper reviewed the troops more than one thousand men were missing,
including sixteen officers. Among these officers were a major, fatally
wounded by an arrow on the first day of the assault, and the
vice-admiral, who was drowned while coming ashore in a boat.

The natives who had been brought from the provinces to Manila were
plundering and committing excesses in the city, so Draper had them all
driven out. Guards were placed at the doors of the nunneries and
convents to prevent outrages on the women, and then the city was given
up to the victorious troops for pillage during three hours. Zuniga,
however, remarks that the European troops were moderate, but that the
Indian contingents were insatiable. They are said to have committed many
atrocities, and, reveling in bloodshed, even murdered the inhabitants.
They ransacked the suburbs of Santa Cruz and Binondo, and, acting like
savage victorious tribes, they ravished women, and even went into the
highways to murder and rob those who fled. The three hours expired, and
the following day a similar scene was permitted. The archbishop
thereupon besought the general to put a stop to it, and have compassion
on the city. The general complied with this request, and restored order
under pain of death for disobedience--some Chinese were in consequence
hanged. General Draper himself killed one whom he found in the act of
stealing, and he ordered that all church property should be restored,
but only some priests’ vestments were recovered.

Draper demanded the surrender of Cavite, which was agreed to by the
archbishop and magistrates, but the commanding officer refused to
comply. The major of that garrison was sent with a message to the
commander, but on the way he talked with such freedom about the
surrender to the British, that the natives quitted their posts and
plundered the arsenal. The commander, rather than face humiliation,
retired to a ship, and left all further responsibility to the major.

Measures were now taken to pay the agreed indemnity. Heavy contributions
were levied upon the inhabitants, which, however, together with the
silver from the pious establishments, church ornaments, plate, the
archbishop’s rings and breast-cross, only amounted to five hundred and
forty-six thousand dollars. The British then proposed to accept one
million at once and draw the rest from the cargo of the galleon
“Philipino,” if it resulted that she had not been seized by the British
previous to the day the capitulation was signed--but the one million was
not forthcoming. The day before the capture of Manila, a royal messenger
had been sent off with one hundred and eleven thousand dollars, with
orders to secure it in some place in the Laguna de Bay. The archbishop
now ordered its return to Manila, and issued a requisition to that
effect; but the Franciscan friars were insubordinate, and armed the
natives, whom they virtually ruled, and the treasure was secreted in
Majayjay Convent. Thence, on receipt of the archbishop’s message, it was
carried across country to a place in North Pampanga, bordering on
Cagayan and Pangasinan. The British, convinced that they were being
duped, insisted on their claim. Thomas Backhouse, commanding the troops
stationed at Pasig, went up to the Laguna de Bay with eighty mixed
troops, to intercept the bringing of the “Philipino” treasure. He
attacked Tunasan, Vinan and Santa Rosa, and embarked for Pagsanjan,
which was then the capital of the Lake Province. The inhabitants, after
firing the convent and church, fled. Backhouse returned to Calamba,
entered the Province of Batangas, overran it, and made several Austin
friars prisoners. In Lipa he seized three thousand dollars, and there he
established his quarters, expecting that the “Philipino” treasure would
be carried that way; but on learning that it had been transported by
sea to a Pampanga coast town, Backhouse withdrew to Pasig.

In the capitulation, the whole of the Archipelago was surrendered to the
British, but Simon de Anda determined to appeal to arms. Draper used
stratagem, and issued a proclamation commiserating the fate of the
natives who paid tribute to Spaniards, and assuring them that the King
of England would not exact it. The archbishop, as governor, became
Draper’s tool, sent messages to the Spanish families persuading them to
return, and appointed an Englishman, married in the country, to be
alderman of Tondo. Despite the strenuous opposition of the supreme
court, the archbishop, at the instance of Draper, convened a council of
native headmen and representative families, and proposed to them the
cession of all the islands to the King of England. Draper clearly saw
that the ruling powers in the colony, judging from their energy and
effective measures, were the friars, so he treated them with great
respect. The Frenchman Faller, who unsuccessfully opposed the British
assault, was offered troops to go and take possession of Zamboanga and
accept the government there, but he refused, as did also a Spaniard
named Sandoval.

Draper returned to Europe; Major Fell was left in command of the troops,
while Drake assumed the military government of the city, with Smith and
Brock as council, and Brereton in charge of Cavite. Draper, on leaving,
gave orders for two frigates to go in search of the “Philipino”
treasure. The ships got as far as Capul Island and put into harbor. They
were detained there by a ruse on the part of a half-caste pilot, and
the treasure was got away in the meantime.

Simon de Anda, from his provincial retreat, proclaimed himself
governor-general. He declared that the archbishop and the magistrates,
as prisoners of war, were dead in the eye of the law; and that his
assumption of authority was based upon old laws. None of his countrymen
disputed his authority, and he established himself in Bacolor. The
British council then convened a meeting of the chief inhabitants, at
which Anda was declared a seditious person and deserving of capital
punishment, together with the Marquis of Monte Castro, who had violated
his parole d’honneur, and the provincial of the Austin friars, who had
joined the rebel party. All the Austin friars were declared traitors for
having broken their allegiance to the archbishop’s authority. The
British still pressed for the payment of the one million, while the
Spaniards declared they possessed no more. The Austin friars were
ordered to keep the natives peaceable if they did not wish to provoke
hostilities against themselves. At length, the British, convinced of the
futility of decrees, determined to sally out with their forces; and five
hundred men under Thomas Backhouse went up the Pasig River to secure a
free passage for supplies to the camp. While opposite Maybonga, Bustos,
with his Cagayan troops, fired on them. The British returned the fire,
and Bustos fled to Mariquina. The British passed the river, and sent an
officer with a white flag of truce to summon surrender. Bustos was
insolent, and threatened to hang the officer if he returned. Backhouse’s
troops then opened fire and placed two field pieces which completely
scared the natives, who fled in such great confusion that many were
drowned in the river. Thence the British pursued their enemy “as if they
were a flock of goats,” and reached the Bamban River, where the Sultan
of Sulu resided with his family. The sultan, after a feigned resistance,
fell a prisoner to the British, who fortified his dwelling, and occupied
it during the whole of the operations. There were subsequent skirmishes
on the Pasig River banks with the armed insurgents, who were driven as
far as the Antipolo Mountains.

Meanwhile, Anda collected troops; and Bustos, as his lieutenant-general,
vaunted the power of his chief through the Bulacan and Pampanga
provinces. A Franciscan and an Austin friar, having led troops to
Masilo, about seven miles from Manila, the British went out to dislodge
them, but on their approach most of the natives feigned they were dead,
and the British returned without any loss in arms or men.

The British, believing that the Austin friars were conspiring against
them in connivance with those inside the city, placed these friars in
confinement, and subsequently shipped away eleven of them to Europe. For
the same reason, they at last determined to enter the St. Augustine
Convent, and on ransacking it they found that the priests had been lying
to them all the time. Six thousand dollars in coin were found hidden in
the garden, and large quantities of wrought silver elsewhere. The whole
premises were then searched and all the valuables were seized. A British
expedition went out to Bulacan, sailing across the bay and up the
Hagonoy River, where they disembarked at Malolos on the 19th of January,
1763. The troops, under Captain Eslay, of the Grenadiers, numbered six
hundred men, many of whom were Chinese volunteers. As they advanced from
Malolos, the natives and Spaniards fled. On the way to Bulacan, Bustos
advanced to meet them, but retreated into ambush on seeing they were
superior in numbers. Bulacan Convent was fortified with three small
cannon. As soon as the troops were in sight of the convent, a desultory
fire of case-shot made great havoc in the ranks of the Chinese forming
the British vanguard. At length the British brought their field pieces
into action, and pointing at the enemy’s cannon, the first discharge
carried off the head of their artilleryman Ybarra. The panic-stricken
natives decamped; the convent was taken by assault; there was an
indiscriminate fight and general slaughter. The alcalde and a Franciscan
friar fell in action; one Austin friar escaped, and another was seized
and killed to avenge the death of the British soldiers. The invading
forces occupied the convent, and some of the troops were shortly sent
back to Manila. Bustos reappeared near the Bulacan convent with eight
thousand native troops, of which six hundred were cavalry, but they
dared not attack the British. Bustos then maneuvered in the neighborhood
and made occasional alarms. Small parties were sent out against him with
so little effect that the British commander headed a body in person, and
put the whole of Bustos’ troops to flight like mosquitoes before a gust
of wind, for Bustos feared they would be pursued into Pampanga. After
clearing away the underwood, which served as a covert for the natives,
the British reoccupied the convent; but Bustos returned to his position,
and was a second time as disgracefully routed by the British, who then
withdrew to Manila.

At the same time, it was alleged that a conspiracy was being organized
among the Chinese in the Province of Pampanga with the object of
assassinating Anda and his Spanish followers. The Chinese cut trenches
and raised fortifications, avowing that their bellicose preparations
were only to defend themselves against the possible attack of the
British; while the Spaniards saw in all this a connivance with the
invaders. The latter, no doubt, conjectured rightly. Anda, acting upon
the views of his party, precipitated matters by appearing with fourteen
Spanish soldiers and a crowd of native bowmen to commence the slaughter
in the town of Guagua. The Chinese assembled there in great numbers, and
Anda endeavored in vain to induce them to surrender to him. He then sent
a Spaniard, named Miguel Garces, with a message, offering them pardon in
the name of the King of Spain if they would lay down their arms; but
they killed the emissary, and Anda therefore commenced the attack. The
result was favorable for Anda’s party, and great numbers of the Chinese
were slain. Many fled to the fields, where they were pursued by the
troops, while those who were captured were hanged. Such was the
inveterate hatred which Anda entertained for the Chinese, that he issued
a general decree declaring all the Chinese traitors to the Spanish flag,
and ordered them to be hanged wherever they might be found in the
provinces. Thus thousands of Chinese were executed who had taken no part
whatever in the events of this little war.

Admiral Cornish, having decided to return to Europe, again urged for
the payment of the two millions of dollars. The archbishop was in great
straits; he was willing to do anything, but his colleagues opposed him,
and Cornish was at length obliged to content himself with a bill on the
Madrid treasury. Anda appointed Bustos alcalde of Bulacan, and ordered
him to recruit and train troops, as he still nurtured the hope of
confining the British to Manila--perhaps even of driving them out of the

The British in the city were compelled to adopt the most rigorous
precautions against a rising of the population within the walls, and
several Spanish residents were arrested for intriguing against them in
concert with those outside.

Several French prisoners from Pondicherry deserted from the British; and
some Spanish regular troops, who had been taken prisoners, effected
their escape. The fiscal of the supreme court and a Senor Villa Corta
were found conspiring. The latter was caught in the act of sending a
letter to Anda, and was sentenced to be hanged and quartered--the
quarters to be exhibited in public places. The archbishop, however,
obtained Villa Corta’s pardon, on the condition that Anda should
evacuate the Pampanga Province; and Villa Corta wrote to Anda, begging
him to accede to this, but Anda absolutely refused to make any sacrifice
to save his friend’s life; and at the same time he wrote a disgraceful
letter to the archbishop, couched in such insulting terms that the
British commander burned it without letting the archbishop see it. Villa
Corta was finally ransomed by the payment of three thousand dollars.

The treasure brought by the “Philipino” served Anda to organize a
respectable force of recruits. Spaniards who were living there in
misery, and a crowd of natives always ready for pay, enlisted. These
forces, under Lieutenant-general Bustos, encamped at Malinta, about five
miles from Manila. The officers lodged in a house belonging to the
Austin friars, around which the troops pitched their tents--the whole
being defended by redoubts and palisades raised under the direction of a
French deserter, who led a company. From this place Bustos constantly
caused alarm to the British troops, who once had to retreat before a
picket guard sent to get the church bells of Quiapo. The British, in
fact, were much molested by Bustos’ Malinta troops, who forced the
invaders to withdraw to Manila and reduce the extension of their
outposts. This measure was followed up by a proclamation, in which the
British commander alluded to Bustos’ troops as “canaille and robbers,”
and offered a reward of five thousand dollars for Anda’s head; declaring
him and his party rebels and traitors to their majesties the kings of
Spain and England. Anda, chafing at his impotence to combat the invading
party by force of arms, gave vent to his feelings of rage and
disappointment by issuing a decree, dated from Bacolor the 19th of May,
1763, of which the translated text reads as follows:

“Royal Government Tribunal of these Islands for His Catholic Majesty:
Whereas the Royal Government Tribunal, Supreme Government and
Captain-Generalship of His Catholic Majesty in these Islands are gravely
offended at the audacity and blindness of those men, who, forgetting all
humanity, have condemned as rebellious and disobedient to both their
Majesties, him, who as a faithful vassal of His Catholic Majesty, and in
conformity with the law, holds the Royal Tribunal, Government and
Captain-Generalship; and having suffered by a reward being offered by
order of the British Governor in council to whomsoever shall deliver me
alive or dead; and by their having placed the arms captured in Bulacan
at the foot of the gallows--seeing that instead of their punishing and
reproaching such execrable proceedings, the spirit of haughtiness and
pride is increasing, as shown in the Proclamation published in Manila on
the 17th instant, in which the troops of His Majesty are infamously
calumniated--treating them as blackguards and disaffected to their
service--charging them with plotting to assassinate the English officers
and soldiers, and with having fled when attacked--the whole of these
accusations being false: Now therefore by these presents, be it known to
all Spaniards and true Englishmen that Messrs. Drake, Smith and Brock,
who signed the Proclamation referred to, must not be considered as
vassals of His Britannic Majesty, but as tyrants and common enemies
unworthy of human society, and therefore, I order that they be
apprehended as such, and I offer ten thousand dollars for each one of
them alive or dead. At the same time, I withdraw the order to treat the
vassals of his Britannic Majesty with all the humanity which the rights
of war will permit, as has been practiced hitherto with respect to the
prisoners and deserters.”

Anda had by this time received the consent of his king to occupy the
position which he had usurped, and the British commander was thus
enabled to communicate officially with, him, if occasion required it;
and Drake replied to this proclamation, recommending Anda to carry on
the war with greater moderation and humanity.

On the 27th of June, 1763, the British made a sortie from the city to
dislodge Bustos, who still occupied Malinta. The attacking party
consisted of three hundred and fifty fusileers, fifty horsemen, a mob of
Chinese, and a number of guns and ammunition. The British took up
quarters on one side of the river, while Bustos remained on the other.
The opposing parties exchanged fire, but neither cared nor dared to
cross the waterway. The British forces retired in good order to Masilo,
and remained there until they heard that Bustos had burned Malinta House
and removed his camp to Meycauayan. Then the British withdrew to Manila
in the evening. On the Spanish side there were two killed, five mortally
wounded and two slightly wounded. The British losses were six mortally
wounded and seven disabled. This was the last encounter in open warfare.
Chinamen occasionally lost their lives through their love of plunder in
the vicinity occupied by the British.

During these operations, the priesthood taught the ignorant natives to
believe that the invading troops were infidels--and a holy war was

The friars, especially those of the Augustine order,[14] abandoned their
mission of peace for that of the sword, and the British met with a
slight reverse at Masilo, where a religious fanatic of the Austin
friars had put himself at the head of a small hand lying in ambush.

On the 23d of July, 1763, a British frigate brought news from Europe of
an armistice--and the preliminaries of peace, by virtue of which Manila
was to be evacuated (Peace of Paris, 10th of February, 1763), were
received by the British commander on the 27th of August following,
and communicated by him to the archbishop-governor for the
“commander-in-chief” of the Spanish arms. Anda stood on his dignity and
protested that he should be addressed directly, and be styled
captain-general. On this plea he declined to receive the communication.
Drake replied by a manifesto, dated 19th of September, to the effect
that the responsibility of the blood which might be spilled, in
consequence of Anda’s refusal to accept his notification, would rest
with him. Anda published a counter manifesto, dated 28th of September,
in Bacolor (Pampanga), protesting that he had not been treated with
proper courtesy.

Greater latitude was allowed to the prisoners, and Villa Corta effected
his escape dressed as a woman. He fled to Anda--the co-conspirator who
had refused to save his life--and their superficial friendship was
renewed. Villa Corta was left in charge of business in Bacolor during
Anda’s temporary absence. Meanwhile the archbishop fell ill; and it was
discussed who should be his successor in the government in the event of
his death. Villa Corta argued that it fell to him as senior magistrate.
The discussion came to the knowledge of Anda, and seriously aroused his
jealousy. Fearing conspiracy against his ambitious projects, he left his
camp at Polo, and hastened to interrogate Villa Corta, who explained
that he had only made casual remarks in the course of conversation.
Anda, however, was restless on the subject of the succession, and sought
the opinion of all the chief priests and bishops. Various opinions
existed. Some urged that the decision be left to the supreme
court--others were in favor of Anda--while many abstained from
expressing their views. Anda was so nervously anxious about the matter,
that he even begged the opinion of the British commander, and wrote him
on the subject from Bacolor on the 2d of November, 1763.

Major Fell seriously quarreled with Drake about the Frenchman Faller,
whom Admiral Cornish had left under sentence of death for having written
a letter to Java accusing him of being a pirate and a robber. Drake
protected Faller, while Fell demanded the execution of the prisoner; and
the dispute became so heated that Fell was about to slay Drake with a
bayonet, but was prevented by some soldiers. Fell then went to London to
complain of Drake, hence Anda’s letter was addressed to Backhouse, who
took Fell’s place. Anda, who months since had refused to negotiate or
treat with Drake, still insisted upon being styled captain-general.
Backhouse replied that he was ignorant of the Spaniards’ statutes or
laws, but that he knew the governor was the archbishop. Anda thereupon
spread the report that the British commander had forged the
preliminaries of peace because he could no longer hold out in warfare.
The British necessarily had to send to the provinces to purchase
provisions, and Anda caused their forage parties to be attacked, so that
the war really continued, in spite of the news of peace, until the 30th
of January, 1764. On this day the archbishop died, sorely grieved at the
situation, and weighed down with cares. He had engaged to pay four
millions of dollars and surrender the islands, but could he indeed have
refused any terms? The British were in possession; and these conditions
were dictated at the point of the bayonet.

Immediately after the funeral of the archbishop, Anda received
dispatches from the King of Spain, by way of China, confirming the news
of peace to his governor at Manila. Then the British acknowledged Anda
as governor, and proceeded to evacuate the city; but rival factions were
not so easily set aside, and fierce quarrels ensued between the
respective parties of Anda, Villa Corta and Ustariz, as to who should be
governor and receive the city officially from the British. Anda, being
actually in command of the troops, had the game in his hands. The
conflict was happily terminated by the arrival at Marinduque of the
newly appointed governor-general from Spain--Don Francisco de la Torre.
A galley was sent there by Anda to bring his excellency to Luzon, and he
arrived at Bacolor, where Anda resigned the government to him on the
17th of March, 1764.

La Torre sent a message to Backhouse and Brereton--the commanding
officers at Manila and Cavite--stating that he was ready to take over
the city in due form. La Torre thereupon took up his residence in Santa
Cruz, placed a Spanish guard with sentinels from that ward as far as the
Great Bridge (Puente de Barcas, now called Puente de España), where the
British advance guard was, and friendly communication took place.
Governor Drake was indignant at being ignored in all these proceedings,
and ordered the Spanish governor to withdraw his guards, under threat of
appealing to force. Backhouse and Brereton resented this rudeness, and
ordered the troops under arms to arrest Drake, whose hostile action, due
to jealousy, they declared unwarrantable. Drake, being apprised of their
intentions, escaped from the city with his suite, embarked on board a
frigate, and sailed off.

La Torre was said to be indisposed on the day appointed for receiving
the city. Some assert that he feigned his indisposition, as he did not
wish to arouse Anda’s animosity, and desired to afford him an
opportunity of displaying himself as a delegate at least of the highest
local authority by receiving the city from the British, while he
pampered his pride by allowing him to enter triumphantly into it. As the
city exchanged masters, the Spanish flag was hoisted once more on the
fort of Santiago amid the hurrahs of the populace and artillery salutes.

Before embarking, Brereton offered to do justice to any claims which
might be legitimately established against the British authorities. Hence
a sloop loaned to Drake, valued at four thousand dollars, was paid for
to the Jesuits, and the three thousand dollars paid to ransom Villa
Corta’s life was returned; Brereton remarking that, if the sentence
against him were valid, it should have been executed at the time, but it
could not be commuted by money payment. At the instance of the British
authorities, a free pardon was granted and published to the Chinese, few
of whom, however, confided in it, and many left with the retiring army.
Brereton, with his forces, embarked for India, after dispatching a
packet-boat to restore the Sultan of Sulu to his throne.

During this convulsed period, great atrocities were committed.
Unfortunately the common felons were released by the English from their
prisons, and used their liberty to perpetrate murders and robbery in
alliance with those always naturally bent that way. So great did this
evil become, so bold were the marauders, that in time they formed large
parties, infested highways, attacked plantations, and the poor peasantry
had to flee, leaving their cattle and all their belongings in their
power. Several avenged themselves of the friars for old scores, others
settled accounts with those Europeans who had tyrannized them of old.
The Chinese, whether so-called Christians or pagans, declared for and
aided the British.

The proceedings of the choleric Simon de Anda y Salazar were approved by
his sovereign, but his impetuous disposition drove from him his best
counselors, while those who were bold enough to uphold their opinions
against his were accused of connivance with the British. Communications
with Europe were scant indeed in those days, but Anda could not have
been altogether ignorant of the causes of the war, which terminated with
the Treaty of Paris.

On his return to Spain, after the appointment of La Torre as
governor-general, he succeeded in retaining the favor of the king, who
conferred several honors on him, making him Councilor of Castile, etc.
In the meantime Jose Raon, who replaced La Torre, had fallen into
disgrace, and Anda was appointed to the governor-generalship of the

There is perhaps no imperiousness so intolerant as that of an official
who vaunts his authority by the reflected light of his powerful patron.
Anda on his arrival avenged himself of his opposers in all directions.
He imprisoned his predecessor, several judges, military officials and
others; some he sent back to Spain, others he banished from the capital.
Thus he brought trouble upon himself. From all sides hostile resistance
increased. He quarreled with the clergy; but when his irascible temper
had exhausted itself in the course of six years, he retired to a convent
of the Austin friars, where he expired in 1776, much to the relief of
his numerous adversaries.

Consequent on the troubled state of the colony, a serious rebellion
arose in Ylogan (Cagayan Province), among the Timava natives, who
flogged the commandant, and declared they would no longer pay tribute to
the Spaniards. The revolt spread to Ilocos and Pangasinan, but the
ringleaders were caught, and tranquillity was restored by the gallows.

A rising far more important occurred in Ilocos Sur. The alcalde was
deposed, and escaped after he had been forced to give up his staff of
office. The leader of this revolt was a cunning and cute Manila native,
named Diego de Silan, who persuaded the people to cease paying tribute,
and declare against the Spaniards, who, he pointed out, were unable to
resist the English. The city of Vigan was in great commotion. The
vicar-general parleyed with the natives; and then, collecting his
troops, the rebels were dispersed, while some were taken prisoners; but
the bulk of the rioters rallied and attacked, and burned down part of
the city. The loyal natives fled before the flames. The vicar-general’s
house was taken, and the arms in it were seized. All the Austin friars
within a large surrounding neighborhood had to ransom themselves by
money payments. Silan was then acknowledged as chief over a large
territory north and south of Vigan. He appointed his lieutenants, and
issued a manifesto declaring Jesus of Nazareth to be captain-general of
the place, and that he was his alcalde for the promotion of the Catholic
religion and dominion of the King of Spain. His manifesto was wholly
that of a religious fanatic. He obliged the natives to attend mass, to
confess, and to see that their children went to school. In the midst of
all this pretended piety, he robbed cattle and exacted ransoms for the
lives of all those who could pay them; he levied a tax of one hundred
dollars on each friar. Under the pretense of keeping out the British, he
placed sentinels in all directions to prevent news reaching the terrible
Simon de Anda. But Anda, though fully informed by an Austin friar of
what transpired, had not sufficient troops to march north. He sent a
requisition to Silan to present himself within nine days, under penalty
of arrest as a traitor. While this order was published, vague reports
were intentionally spread that the Spaniards were coming to Ilocos in
great force. Many deserted Silan, but he contrived to deceive even the
clergy and others by his feigned piety. Silan sent presents to Manila
for the British, acknowledging the King of England to be his legitimate
sovereign. The British governor sent, in return, a vessel bearing
dispatches to Silan, appointing him alcalde mayor. Elated with pride,
Silan at once made this public. The natives were undeceived, for they
had counted on him to deliver them from the British; now, to their
dismay, they saw him the authorized magistrate of the invader. He gave
orders to make all the Austin friars prisoners, saying that the British
would send other clergy in their stead. The friars surrendered
themselves without resistance and joined their bishop near Vigan,
awaiting the pleasure of Silan. The bishop excommunicated Silan, and
then he released some of the priests. The Christian natives having
refused to slay the friars, a secret compact was being made, with this
object, with the mountain tribes, when a half-caste named Vicos obtained
the bishop’s benediction to go and kill Silan; and the rebellion, which
had lasted from December 14, 1762, to May 28, 1763, ended.

Not until a score of little battles had been fought were the numerous
riots in the provinces quelled. The loyal troops were divided into
sections, and marched north in several directions, until peace was
restored by March, 1765. Zuniga says that the Spaniards lost in these
riots about seventy Europeans and one hundred and forty natives, while
they cost the rebels quite ten thousand men.

Space will not permit us to cite all the revolutionary protests which
ensued. In the time of Legaspi the submission of the Manila and Tondo
chiefs was of but local and temporary importance. Since then, and in
fact since the very beginning up to the present time, the natives have
only yielded to a force which they have repeatedly tried to overthrow.




When General Weyler assumed command in Cuba he issued, October 21, 1896,
the following proclamation:

     “I order and command:

     First--All the inhabitants of the country now outside of the line
     of fortifications of the towns shall within the period of eight
     days concentrate themselves in the towns so occupied by the troops.
     Any individual who after the expiration of this period is found in
     the uninhabited parts will be considered a rebel and tried as

At the time when the order was issued there was living within the
western province a population of four hundred thousand men, women and
children. The result of the order was to sweep them from their homes and
fields and confine them in open-air prisons. No food whatever was
supplied to them. As a result more than half of them died.

The indignation aroused became widespread. Weyler was recalled. At the
time, especially in Havana among the officials who had been his
adherents and who resented his recall, there was an expressed hatred of
the United States. That hatred it is generally understood resulted, on
the night of February 15, 1898, in the blowing up of the “Maine.”

The dispatch of this vessel to Cuban waters was a friendly act arranged
by our government and that of Spain as one of a series of visits to be
paid by the ironclads of the two countries to each other’s harbors.
While the “Viscaya” was en route for New York the “Maine” went to
Havana. The harbor there was subsequently shown to have been sown with

The findings of the Court of Inquiry, which was then held, as embodied
in the report of the Foreign Relations Committee, set forth that the
destruction of the “Maine” was either compassed by the official act of
the Spanish authorities, or was made possible by negligence on their
part so willful and gross as to be equivalent to criminal culpability.

The line of argument is as follows: It is established that the “Maine”
was destroyed by the explosion of a submarine mine in position under her
in a Spanish harbor, at a place where she had been moored to a buoy by
the express direction and guidance of the Spanish authorities.

The report of the Spanish board of inquiry, which reported, after the
most inadequate examination, that the explosion was due to the fault of
the officers of the “Maine,” and took place within the vessel itself,
was declared to be manifestly false, and calculated to induce public
opinion to prejudge the question. Taking this together with the fact of
the duplicity, treachery, and cruelty of the Spanish character, the
Senate concluded that the Spanish authorities must be held responsible
for the crime, either as its direct authors or as contributors thereto
by willful and gross negligence.

Spain offered to refer the question as to the cause of the loss of the
“Maine” and their responsibility for the catastrophe to arbitration. The
President made no reply.

On April 11, anterior circumstances already sufficiently recited, joined
to the findings of the American Commissioners, resulted in the President
sending a message to Congress, in which he said:

     “The long trial has proved that the object for which Spain has
     waged the war cannot be attained. The fire of insurrection may
     flame or may smolder with varying seasons, but it has not been, and
     it is plain that it cannot be, extinguished by present methods. The
     only hope of relief and repose from a condition which can no longer
     be endured is the enforced pacification of Cuba.

     “In the name of humanity, in the name of civilization, in behalf of
     endangered American interests which give us the right and the duty
     to speak and to act, the war in Cuba must stop.

     “In view of these facts and of these considerations, I ask the
     Congress to authorize and empower the President to take measures to
     secure a full and final termination of hostilities between the
     government of Spain and the people of Cuba, and to secure in the
     island the establishment of a stable government capable of
     maintaining order and observing its international obligations,
     insuring peace and tranquillity, and the security of its citizens
     as well as our own, and to use the military and naval forces of the
     United States as may be necessary for these purposes.

                                                  “_William McKinley._”

On April 19, Congress passed the following:

      _Joint resolution for the recognition of the independence of the
      people of Cuba, demanding that the government of Spain
      relinquish its authority and government in the island of
      Cuba, and to withdraw its land and naval forces from
      Cuba and Cuban waters, and directing the President of
      the United States to use the land and naval forces of the
      United States to carry these resolutions into effect._

     “_Whereas_, The abhorrent conditions which have existed for more
     than three years in the island of Cuba, so near our own borders,
     have shocked the moral sense of the people of the United States,
     have been a disgrace to Christian civilization, culminating, as
     they have, in the destruction of a United States battleship, with
     two hundred and sixty of its officers and crew, while on a friendly
     visit in the harbor of Havana, and cannot longer be endured, as has
     been set forth by the President of the United States in his message
     to Congress of April 11, 1898, upon which the action of Congress
     was invited; therefore be it resolved,

     “First--That the people of the island of Cuba are, and of right
     ought to be, free and independent.

     “Second--That it is the duty of the United States to demand, and
     the government of the United States does hereby demand, that the
     government of Spain at once relinquish its authority and government
     in the island of Cuba, and withdraw its land and naval forces from
     Cuba and Cuban waters.

     “Third--That the President of the United States be, and he hereby
     is, directed and empowered to use the entire land and naval forces
     of the United States, and to call into the actual service of the
     United States the militia of the several States to such an extent
     as may be necessary to carry these resolutions into effect.

     “Fourth--That the United States hereby disclaims any disposition or
     intention to exercise sovereignty, jurisdiction or control over
     said island, except for the pacification thereof, and asserts its
     determination when that is accomplished to leave the government and
     control of the island to its people.”

The ultimatum embodied in the foregoing being rejected by Spain,
diplomatic relations were severed and hostilities ensued.

On May 1, at daybreak, the Asiatic squadron, commanded by Commodore
Dewey, arrived at Manila from Hong Kong. At Cavite, within the harbor,
protected by four batteries, lay the Spanish fleet. It was commanded by
Admiral Patricio Montojo. The squadron proceeded up the bay unmolested
and made for the naval station. Two mines were exploded, but
ineffectively. At five o’clock and ten minutes the Spaniards opened
fire. Commodore Dewey set the signals, and his entire squadron advanced
to short range. The squadron consisted of the following cruisers and
gunboats: “Olympia,” “Baltimore,” “Boston,” “Raleigh,” “Concord,”
“Petrel,” and “McCulloch.”

At 5.30 the “Olympia’s” 8-inch guns opened, and the squadron swung in
front of the Spanish ships and forts in single file, firing their port
guns. Then, wheeling, they passed back, firing their starboard guns.
This maneuver was repeated five times, the entire American fleet
passing all the Spanish ships and batteries at each maneuver, and each
time drawing in closer and closer and delivering fire at more deadly
range. During two hours and a half there was tremendous resistance by
the Spaniards. They had eleven ships and five land batteries in full
play, against six American warships. But the American marksmanship was
faultless. Every shot seemed to count against ship or shore battery,
while most of the Spanish powder was burned in vain. At 7.45 A.M. the
American fleet withdrew to ascertain damages and permit the smoke to
clear. It was seen then that several Spanish ships were crippled or
burning, and it was found that the American vessels had suffered hardly
at all. Admiral Dewey called his captains into consultation and
arrangements were made for another attack. At 10.40 the attack was
renewed, the “Baltimore” leading. She advanced right upon the enemy,
shelling them constantly, and the other Americans followed, working
their guns as rapidly as they could load and fire. The effect of this
assault was terrific. Ship after ship of the Spaniards sunk or was run
ashore to keep them from sinking or falling into American hands. At
12.45 P.M. the Spaniards struck their colors in token of surrender.
Admiral Patricio Montojo fled to Manila, and most of the survivors fled
with him. This ended the work of May 1.

On May 2, Commodore Dewey landed a force of marines at Cavite. They
completed the destruction of the Spanish fleet and batteries and
established a guard for the protection of the Spanish hospitals. The
resistance of the forts was weak. The “Olympia” turned a few guns on
the Cavite arsenal, and its magazine at once exploded, killing some and
wounding many. This practically ended the fire from the batteries, the
Spanish artillerists fearing to face the American gunners. “Remember the
‘Maine’!” was the word continually passed between the ships, and every
American officer, every “Jackie,” was eager to do his utmost.

After Manila and the defeat of Admiral Montojo, the successive and
concluding events of the Hispano-American war include Admiral Sampson’s
bombardment of San Juan; Hobson’s heroic experiment with the “Merrimac”;
General Shafter’s campaign; the destruction of Cervera’s squadron; the
capitulation of Santiago; General Miles’s tour in Porto Rico, and the
overtures for peace. These events may be conveniently summarized as

The bombardment of San Juan was the result of a reconnaissance. The
Spanish fleet, under command of Admiral Cervera, which it was the
purpose of the Americans to capture or destroy, subsequently sought and
found shelter within the harbor of Santiago, the entrance to which
Admiral Sampson then proceeded to invest. There, while waiting to engage
the enemy, it was thought wise to attempt to block the harbor and so
prevent a possible escape. The plan originated with Lieutenant Hobson,
and its execution was left to him. On the night of June 3, with a picked
crew of seven volunteers, he steamed up in the collier “Merrimac” to the
harbor’s entrance and sank her. From the fleet the progress of the
“Merrimac” was eagerly followed.

At 3.15 the first Spanish shot was fired, coming from one of the guns on
the hill to the west of the entrance. The shot was seen to splash
seaward from the “Merrimac,” having passed over her. The firing became
general very soon afterward, being especially fierce and rapid from the
batteries inside on the left of the harbor, probably from batteries on
Smith Cay. The flashes and reports were apparently those of rapid-fire
guns, ranging from small automatic guns to four-inch or larger. For
fifteen minutes a perfect fusillade was kept up. Then the fire
slackened, and by 3.30 had almost ceased. There was a little desultory
firing until about 3.45, when all became quiet. Daylight came at about
five o’clock.

At about 5.15 A.M., a launch, which, under Cadet Powell, had followed
the “Merrimac,” in order if possible to rescue Hobson and his men, was
seen steaming from west to east, near or across the mouth of the harbor.
She steamed back from east to west and began skirting the coast to the
west of the entrance. The battery on the hill to the left opened fire on
her, but did not make good practice. The launch continued her course as
far westward as a small cove and then headed for the “Texas,” steaming
at full speed. Several shots were fired at her from the battery on the
left as she steamed out.

It was broad daylight by this time. Cadet Powell came alongside the
“Texas” and reported that “No one had come out of the entrance of the
harbor.” His words sounded like the death knell of all who had gone in
on the “Merrimac.” It seemed incredible, almost impossible, any of them
could have lived through the awful fire that was directed at the ship.
Cadet Powell said that he had followed behind the ship at a distance of
four or five hundred yards. Hobson missed the entrance of the harbor at
first, having gone too far to the westward; he almost ran aground. The
launch picked up the entrance and directed the “Merrimac” in. From the
launch the collier was seen until she rounded the bend of the channel
and until the helm had been put to port to swing her into position
across the channel. There was probably no one in the fleet who did not
think that all seven of the men had perished. In the afternoon, much to
the surprise of every one, a tug flying a flag of truce was seen coming
out of the entrance. The “Vixen,” flying a tablecloth at the fore, went
to meet the tug. A Spanish officer went aboard the “Vixen” from the tug
and was taken aboard the flagship. Not long afterward a signal was made
that Murphy of the “Iowa” was saved and was a prisoner of war. About
four o’clock another signal was made from the flagship: “Collier’s crew
prisoners of war; two slightly wounded. All well.”

It can be easily imagined what relief this signal brought to all hands,
who had been mourning the death of all these men. The Spanish officer
said also that the prisoners were confined in Morro Castle. He said
further that Admiral Cervera considered the attempt to run in and sink
the “Merrimac” across the channel an act of such great bravery and
desperate daring that he (the Admiral) thought it very proper that our
naval officers should be notified of the safety of these men. Whatever
the motive for sending out the tug with the flag of truce, the act was a
most graceful one, and one of most chivalrous courtesy. The Spanish
officer is reported to have said: “You have made it more difficult, but
we can still get out.”

The daring evinced by Hobson was instantly recognized, but the
importance of his achievement was not appreciated until July 3, when
Cervera’s desperate attempt to escape, would, in all likelihood, have
been partly successful but for the fact that his vessels were obliged to
leave the harbor in single file.

Let us, however, recapitulate in their order the events which followed
the sinking of the “Merrimac,” news whereof was received on June 4. On
June 5, a bombardment of the Morro Castle, commanding the mouth of
Santiago Harbor, took place, but no serious impression seems to have
been made upon the fortress at that time, although some neighboring
earthworks were destroyed. Two days later, there was a more effective
bombardment of the harbor fortifications by Admiral Sampson, but the
Morro Castle still held out and protected the entrance to the port by
its ability to deliver a plunging fire. On June 9, it was known that
twelve thousand men, or about half of our regular army, together with a
number of volunteer regiments, under General Shafter, had set sail from
Tampa, and, on the following day, the Spaniards began preparations for a
vigorous defense of Santiago against a land force by means of carefully
planned intrenchments. On June 11, a body of United States marines
landed at Guantanamo Bay, and, on the three ensuing days, sustained
successfully determined assaults by the Spaniards. On June 15, the
“Vesuvius,” carrying a pneumatic gun, which discharges a tube loaded
with dynamite, arrived off Santiago, and fully justified the
expectations of her inventor by the efficient part which she took in the
bombardment. Since June 7, the Spaniards had attempted to repair the
Santiago forts, and had, to some extent, succeeded in doing so;
consequently, on June 16, Admiral Sampson ordered the ships to open fire
on them again, and, in this assault, is said to have discharged five
hundred thousand pounds of metal.

It was not until June 22, or thirteen days after his departure from
Tampa, that General Shafter landed his troops at Baiquiri, a point on
the coast some miles southwest of Santiago. There was furious fighting
during the three following days, and there was a grievous loss of life
on the American side, infantry and dismounted cavalry having been
ordered or allowed to attack intrenchments without artillery support.
The necessity of heavy siege guns was at once clear to professional
soldiers, but these could not be moved from the transports to the shore,
because only one lighter had been brought from Tampa, and even that one
had been lost. This loss could have been quickly repaired, had not
General Shafter refused to take with him from Tampa the signal train
that had been made ready for him, on the ground that he “only wanted men
who could carry muskets.” The result of this indifference to a branch of
the service which constitutes the eyes, ears and voice of a modern army,
was that it required two days to transmit a request from Shafter’s
headquarters to the point where the cable could be used. On June 29, not
having, as yet, any heavy siege guns in position, and not having so
surrounded the city as to prevent the re-enforcement or escape of its
garrison, General Shafter telegraphed to Washington: “I can take
Santiago in forty-eight hours.” On July 1 and 2, General Shafter made
resolute assaults upon the Spanish intrenchments and carried many of
them, advancing his own lines very much nearer the city. The advantage
thus gained, however, had cost him a considerable fraction of his force.
The whole number of Americans killed, wounded and missing during the
land operations reached ten per cent of the number with which General
Shafter landed on June 22. Of these land engagements the most notable
were those of Aguadores, El Caney and San Juan.

The battle of San Juan is described as follows:

The dawn of July 1 found the troops of Wheeler’s division bivouacked on
the eminence of El Pozo. Kent’s division bivouacked near the road back
of El Pozo. Grimes’s battery went into position about two hundred and
fifty yards west of the ruined buildings of El Pozo soon after sunrise
and prepared gun pits. Grimes’s battery opened fire against San Juan a
little before 8 A.M. The troops of the cavalry division were scattered
about on El Pozo Hill in the rear and around the battery, without order
and with no view to their protection from the Spanish fire. This
condition rectified itself when the Spaniards, after five or six shots
by the American battery, replied with shrapnel fire at correct range and
with accurately adjusted fuses, killing two men at the first shot After
some firing soon after 9 A.M. Wheeler’s division was put in march toward
Santiago. Crossing Aguadores stream, it turned to the right, under
General Sumner, who was in command at that time owing to General
Wheeler’s illness. Scattering shots were fired by the Spaniards before
the arrival of the first troops at the crossing, but their volley
firing did not commence until the dismounted cavalry went into position,
crossing open ground. Kent’s division followed Wheeler’s, moving across
the stream, and advanced along the road in close order under a severe
enfilading fire. After advancing some distance, it turned off to the
left. Lieutenant Ord (killed in battle) made a reconnaissance from a
large tree on the banks of the stream.

At about one o’clock, after a delay of nearly two hours’ waiting for the
troops to reach their positions, the whole force advanced, charged, and
carried the first line of intrenchments. They were afterward formed on
the crest and there threw up intrenchments facing the second line at a
distance of from five hundred to one thousand yards.

We pass to the memorable naval combat of July 3, which annihilated
Cervera’s squadron, and dealt the deathblow to Spain’s hope of making
head against America on the sea. There is, of course, no foundation for
the report that Admiral Cervera resolved to fly because he knew that
Santiago would be immediately taken. The truth is that, on July 2, he
received peremptory orders from Madrid to leave Santiago at once, no
matter what might be the consequences; to engage the American fleet, and
to make his way, if possible, to Havana, where he would raise the
blockade. These orders he did his best to execute on the morning of July
3, having been informed by signal that Admiral Sampson’s flagship, the
“New York,” and a large part of the American fleet, were lying at some
distance toward the east, and that only the “Brooklyn,” “Texas” and
“Iowa” would have to be encountered if the escaping ships moved
westward. There was a mistake in this computation, for the “Oregon” also
took an important part in the action, and so did the little
“Gloucester,” a converted yacht, which did not hesitate, single-handed,
to engage both of the torpedo-boat destroyers. With such information as
he could procure, however, Admiral Cervera believed that his ships could
outsail all of those blockading the mouth of the harbor, except the
“Brooklyn,” and that, if the “Brooklyn” could be disabled, some, at
least, of his vessels could escape. Accordingly, orders were issued by
the Spanish admiral to proceed at full speed to the westward after
clearing the entrance, and to concentrate fire upon the “Brooklyn.” In
the attempt to carry out this programme, the four warships, “Maria
Teresa,” “Almirante Oquendo,” “Vizcaya” and “Cristobal Colon,” followed
by the torpedo-boat destroyers “Pluton” and “Furor,” in the order named
and in single file, pushed with all steam up through the narrow passage
which had been left by the sunken “Merrimac.” The concerted endeavor to
disable the “Brooklyn” failed, and it turned out that both the “Oregon”
and “Texas” were faster than the “Cristobal Colon,” which was much the
swiftest of the Spanish squadron. The “Maria Teresa,” the “Almirante
Oquendo” and the “Vizcaya” were successively riddled and put _hors de
combat_ by the rapid and accurate firing of the American ships, and were
beached by their officers to avoid, not so much surrender, as the danger
of explosion. The “Cristobal Colon” succeeded in reaching a point about
fifty miles from Santiago, when it was headed off not only by the
protected cruiser “Brooklyn,” but also by the ironclads “Oregon” and
“Texas.” From that moment, escape was seen to be impossible, so the
commander beached his ship and hauled down his flag. This closing
incident of the battle took place at 1.20 P.M., almost exactly four
hours after the leading vessel of the escaping column, the “Maria
Teresa,” had passed the Morro. Meanwhile, the little “Gloucester,” under
Commander Richard Wainwright, had stopped both of the torpedo-boat
destroyers, received their fire, and detained them until an ironclad
came up.

It will be observed that the Spanish squadron did not have to contend
with the whole of the American fleet, but that, on the contrary, the
forces engaged were, on paper, much more nearly equal than is generally
understood. The Americans had the first-class battleships “Oregon” and
“Iowa,” the second-class battleship “Texas,” the protected cruiser
“Brooklyn,” and the converted yacht “Gloucester.” The Spaniards, on
their part, had one armored cruiser, three protected cruisers, and two
torpedo-boat destroyers. It is certainly a remarkable fact, and one
almost without a parallel in naval annals, if we except Dewey’s
achievement at Manila, that not a single one of the Spanish vessels
should have managed to escape. The honor of the almost unique victory at
Santiago belongs, beyond a doubt, to Commodore Schley, for, at the
beginning of the action, Admiral Sampson, in his flagship, the “New
York,” was out of sight, and he remained out of signal distance until
almost the end.

Almost immediately after these incidents an expedition under command of
General Miles proceeded to Porto Rico, where, on the southwest coast, at
the little village of Guanica, a landing was effected on July 25.

Twenty-four hours later, the Spanish Government, through M. Jules
Cambon, the French Embassador at Washington, made a formal proposal for
ending the war and arranging terms of peace.

As a basis for peace negotiations it was stipulated that Spain should
first relinquish her sovereignty over any part of the Western
Hemisphere, that the Spanish forces in Porto Rico and Cuba should be
withdrawn unassisted by the United States, and that Manila should be
surrendered to the American forces.

The aggressive operations of the American forces in Porto Rico and in
the Philippines hastened the acceptance of these terms by Spain. The
severest engagement of the campaign in Porto Rico was fought at Coamo on
August 9. Here the Spanish commanding officer, Major Rafael M. Yllesca,
was killed, after having defended his critical position with great
bravery. From all sides the Americans now advanced upon San Juan de
Porto Rico, the most important stronghold of the island.

In the Philippines, likewise, events were nearing a crisis. On August 7
Captain-General Augustin was served with a joint note from Admiral Dewey
and General Merritt, commanding the American forces around Manila,
advising him to remove all non-combatants in anticipation of attack.
General Augustin refused to accept the responsibility of either
defending or surrendering Manila, and accordingly resigned his command.
General Fernain Jaudenes, who succeeded him, declined to remove his
non-combatants in view of the threatening attitude of the Filipinos
around Manila, and resolutely prepared for the worst.

On August 12 the home government in Spain gave in, and authorized the
French Embassador in Washington to sign the peace protocol agreed upon
in behalf of Spain. The instrument was formally executed during the
afternoon of the same day. Its exact text was as follows:

     _Protocol of agreement between the United States and Spain,
     embodying the terms of a basis for the establishment of peace
     between the two countries_:

William R. Day, Secretary of State of the United States, and his
Excellency Jules Cambon, Embassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary of
the Republic of France at Washington, respectively possessing for this
purpose full authority from the Government of the United States and the
Government of Spain, have concluded and signed the following articles,
embodying the terms on which the two Governments have agreed in respect
to the matters hereinafter set forth, having in view the establishment
of peace between the two countries, that is to say:

Article I. Spain will relinquish all claim of sovereignty over and title
to Cuba.

Article II. Spain will cede to the United States the island of Porto
Rico and other islands now under Spanish sovereignty in the West Indies,
and also an island in the Ladrones, to be selected by the United States.

Article III. The United States will occupy and hold the city, bay, and
harbor of Manila pending the conclusion of the treaty of peace, which
shall determine the control, disposition, and government of the

Article IV. Spain will immediately evacuate Cuba, Porto Rico, and other
islands now under Spanish sovereignty in the West Indies; and to this
end each Government will, within ten days after the signing of this
protocol, appoint Commissioners, and the Commissioners so appointed
shall, within thirty days after the signing of this protocol, meet at
Havana for the purpose of arranging and carrying out the details of the
aforesaid evacuation of Cuba and the adjacent Spanish islands, and each
Government will, within ten days after the signing of this protocol,
appoint other Commissioners, who shall, within thirty days after the
signing of this protocol, meet at San Juan, in Porto Rico, for the
purpose of arranging and carrying out the details of the aforesaid
evacuation of Porto Rico and other islands now under Spanish sovereignty
in the West Indies.

Article V. The United States and Spain will each appoint not more than
five Commissioners to treat of peace, and the Commissioners so appointed
shall meet at Paris not later than October 1, 1898, and proceed to the
negotiation and conclusion of a treaty of peace, which treaty shall be
subject to ratification according to the respective constitutional forms
of the two countries.

Article VI. Upon the conclusion and signing of this protocol hostilities
between the two countries shall be suspended, and notice to that effect
shall be given as soon as possible by each Government to the commanders
of its military and naval forces.

Done at Washington, in duplicate, in English and in French, by the
undersigned, who have hereunto set their hands and seals, the 12th day
of August, 1898.

(Seal.)      WILLIAM R. DAY.

(Seal.)      JULES CAMBON.

An armistice was declared at once, and mutual orders were issued to
cease hostilities. The blockade of Cuba was raised. Owing to delay in
the transmission of these orders the war in the Philippines was
continued for twenty-four hours. On August 13, General Fernain Jaudenes,
who had succeeded Governor-General Augustin, succumbed to a combined
attack of the American army and navy forces, and signed a formal
capitulation with all the honors of war. The last battle of the war was
a naval engagement off Caibarien, in Cuba, between the Spanish gunboat
“Herman Cortes” and the American gunboat “Mangrove.” While the two
vessels were still engaged the news of the suspension of hostilities was
signaled from shore.

On September 15 the Queen-Regent approved the appointment of the
following Peace Commissioners: Eugenio Montero Rios, President of the
Senate; Buenaventura Abarzuza, Senator; Wenceslao Ramirez de
Villa-Urrutia, Embassador to Belgium; General Rafael Cerero y Saluz, and
José de Garnica, Associate Judge of the Supreme Court. Senor Ojeda
served as secretary. The American Peace Commissioners were William R.
Day, ex-Secretary of State; Senators Cushman K. Davis, William P. Frye,
and George Gray, with Whitelaw Reid, American Embassador to France. The
joint sessions of the two bodies at Paris began on October 1, and ended
with the signing of a conclusive peace treaty on December 10.

The full text of the peace treaty was as follows:

     The United States of America and her Majesty the Queen-Regent of
     Spain, in the name of her august son, Don Alfonso XIII., desiring
     to end the state of war now existing between the two countries,
     have for that purpose appointed as plenipotentiaries:

     The President of the United States:

     William R. Day, Cushman K. Davis, William P. Frye, George Gray, and
     Whitelaw Reid, citizens of the United States;

     And her Majesty the Queen-Regent of Spain:

     Don Eugenio Montero Rios, President of the Senate; Don Buenaventura
     de Abarzuza, Senator of the Kingdom and ex-Minister of the Crown;
     Don José de Garnica, Deputy to the Cortes and Associate Justice of
     the Supreme Court; Don Wenceslao Ramirez de Villa-Urrutia, Envoy
     Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary at Brussels, and Don
     Rafael Cerero, General of Division.

     Who, having assembled in Paris and having exchanged their full
     powers, which were found to be in due and proper form, have, after
     discussion of the matters before them, agreed upon the following


     Spain relinquishes all claim of sovereignty over and title to Cuba.

     And as the island is, upon its evacuation by Spain, to be occupied
     by the United States, the United States will, so long as such
     occupation shall last, assume and discharge the obligations that
     may under international law result from the fact of its occupation
     for the protection of life and property.


     Spain cedes to the United States the island of Porto Rico and other
     islands now under Spanish sovereignty in the West Indies, and the
     island of Guam, in the Mariannes or Ladrones.


     Spain cedes to the United States the archipelago known as the
     Philippine Islands, and comprehending the islands lying within the
     following lines:

     A line running from west to east along or near the twentieth
     parallel of north latitude, and through the middle of the navigable
     channel of Bachti, from the one hundred and eighteenth to the one
     hundred and twenty-seventh degree meridian of longitude east of
     Greenwich, thence along the one hundred and twenty-seventh degree
     meridian of longitude east of Greenwich to the parallel of four
     degrees and forty-five minutes north latitude, thence along the
     parallel of four degrees and forty-five minutes north latitude to
     its intersection with the meridian of longitude one hundred and
     nineteen degrees and thirty-five minutes east of Greenwich, thence
     along the meridian of longitude one hundred and nineteen degrees
     and thirty-five minutes east of Greenwich to the parallel of
     latitude seven degrees and forty minutes north, thence along the
     parallel of latitude seven degrees and forty minutes north to its
     intersection with the one hundred and sixteenth degree meridian of
     longitude east of Greenwich, thence by a direct line to the
     intersection of the tenth degree parallel of north latitude with
     the one hundred and eighteenth degree meridian of longitude east of
     Greenwich, and thence along the one hundred and eighteenth degree
     meridian of longitude east of Greenwich to the point of beginning.

     The United States will pay to Spain the sum of $20,000,000 within
     three months after the exchange of the ratifications of the present


     The United States will, for ten years from the date of exchange of
     ratifications of the present treaty, admit Spanish ships and
     merchandise to the ports of the Philippine Islands on the same
     terms as ships and merchandise of the United States.


     The United States will, upon the signature of the present treaty,
     send back to Spain, at its own cost, the Spanish soldiers taken as
     prisoners of war on the capture of Manila by the American forces.
     The arms of the soldiers in question shall be restored to them.

     Spain will, upon the exchange of the ratifications of the present
     treaty, proceed to evacuate the Philippines, as well as the island
     of Guam, on terms similar to those agreed upon by the Commissioners
     appointed to arrange for the evacuation of Porto Rico and other
     islands in the West Indies under the protocol of August 12, 1898,
     which is to continue in force till its provisions are completely

     The time within which the evacuation of the Philippine Islands and
     Guam shall be completed shall be fixed by the two Governments.
     Stands of colors, uncaptured war vessels, small arms, guns of all
     calibers, with their carriages and accessories, powder, ammunition,
     live stock, and materials and supplies of all kinds belonging to
     the land and naval forces of Spain in the Philippines and Guam
     remain the property of Spain. Pieces of heavy ordnance, exclusive
     of field artillery, in the fortifications and coast defenses shall
     remain in their emplacements for the term of six months, to be
     reckoned from the exchange of ratifications of the treaty; and the
     United States may in the meantime purchase such material from Spain
     if a satisfactory agreement between the two Governments on the
     subject shall be reached.


     Spain will, upon the signature of the present treaty, release all
     prisoners of war and all persons detained or imprisoned for
     political offenses in connection with the insurrections in Cuba and
     the Philippines and the war with the United States.

     Reciprocally the United States will release all persons made
     prisoners of war by the American forces, and will undertake to
     obtain the release of all Spanish prisoners in the hands of the
     insurgents in Cuba and the Philippines.

     The Government of the United States will at its own cost return to
     Spain, and the Government of Spain will at its own cost return to
     the United States, Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines, according
     to the situation of their respective homes, prisoners released or
     caused to be released by them, respectively, under this article.


     The United States and Spain mutually relinquish all claims for
     indemnity, national and individual, of every kind, of either
     Government, or of its citizens or subjects, against the other
     Government, which may have arisen since the beginning of the late
     insurrection in Cuba and prior to the exchange of ratifications of
     the present treaty, including all claims for indemnity for the cost
     of the war. The United States will adjudicate and settle the claims
     of its citizens against Spain relinquished in this article.


     In conformity with the provisions of Articles I., II. and III. of
     this treaty, Spain relinquishes in Cuba and cedes in Porto Rico and
     other islands in the West Indies, in the island of Guam, and in the
     Philippine Archipelago all the buildings, wharves, barracks, forts,
     structures, public highways, and other immovable property which in
     conformity with law belong to the public domain and as such belong
     to the Crown of Spain.

     And it is hereby declared that the relinquishment or cession, as
     the case may be, to which the preceding paragraph refers, cannot in
     any respect impair the property or rights which by law belong to
     the peaceful possession of property of all kinds of provinces,
     municipalities, public or private establishments, ecclesiastical or
     civic bodies, or any other associations having legal capacity to
     acquire and possess property in the aforesaid territories,
     renounced or ceded, or of private individuals, of whatsoever
     nationality such individuals may be.

     The aforesaid relinquishment or cession, as the case may be,
     includes all documents exclusively referring to the sovereignty
     relinquished or ceded that may exist in the archives of the
     Peninsula. Where any document in such archives only in part relates
     to said sovereignty a copy of such part will be furnished whenever
     it shall be requested. Like rules shall be reciprocally observed in
     favor of Spain in respect of documents in the archives of the
     islands above referred to.

     In the aforesaid relinquishment or cession, as the case may be, are
     also included such rights as the Crown of Spain and its authorities
     possess in respect of the official archives and records, executive
     as well as judicial, in the islands above referred to, which relate
     to said islands or the rights and property of their inhabitants.
     Such archives and records shall be carefully preserved, and private
     persons shall, without distinction, have the right to require, in
     accordance with the law, authenticated copies of the contracts,
     wills, and other instruments forming part of notarial protocols or
     files, or which may be contained in the executive or judicial
     archives, be the latter in Spain or in the islands aforesaid.


     Spanish subjects, natives of the Peninsula, residing in the
     territory over which Spain by the present treaty relinquishes or
     cedes her sovereignty, may remain in such territory or may remove
     therefrom, retaining in either event all their rights of property,
     including the right to sell or dispose of such property or of its
     proceeds; and they shall also have the right to carry on their
     industry, commerce, and professions, being subject in respect
     thereof to such laws as are applicable to other foreigners. In case
     they remain in the territory they may preserve their allegiance to
     the Crown of Spain by making, before a court of record, within a
     year from the date of the exchange of ratifications of this treaty,
     a declaration of their decision to preserve such allegiance; in
     default of which declaration they shall be held to have renounced
     it and to have adopted the nationality of the territory in which
     they may reside.

     The civil rights and political status of the native inhabitants of
     the territories hereby ceded to the United States shall be
     determined by the Congress.


     The inhabitants of the territories over which Spain relinquishes or
     cedes her sovereignty shall be secured in the free exercise of
     their religion.


     The Spaniards residing in the territories over which Spain by this
     treaty cedes or relinquishes her sovereignty shall be subject in
     matters civil as well as criminal to the jurisdiction of the courts
     of the country wherein they reside, pursuant to the ordinary laws
     governing the same; and they shall have the right to appear before
     such courts and to pursue the same course as citizens of the
     country to which the courts belong.


     Judicial proceedings pending at the time of the exchange of
     ratifications of this treaty in the territories over which Spain
     relinquishes or cedes her sovereignty shall be determined according
     to the following rules:

     First--Judgments rendered either in civil suits between private
     individuals, or in criminal matters, before the date mentioned, and
     with respect to which there is no recourse or right of review under
     the Spanish law, shall be deemed to be final, and shall be executed
     in due form by competent authority in the territory within which
     such judgments should be carried out.

     Second--Civil suits between private individuals which may on the
     date mentioned be undetermined shall be prosecuted to judgment
     before the court in which they may then be pending, or in the court
     that may be substituted therefor.

     Third--Criminal actions pending on the date mentioned before the
     Supreme Court of Spain against citizens of the territory which by
     this treaty ceases to be Spanish shall continue under its
     jurisdiction until final judgment; but, such judgment having been
     rendered, the execution thereof shall be committed to the competent
     authority of the place in which the case arose.


     The rights of property secured by copyrights and patents acquired
     by Spaniards in the island of Cuba, and in Porto Rico, the
     Philippines, and other ceded territories, at the time of the
     exchange of the ratifications of this treaty, shall continue to be
     respected. Spanish scientific, literary and artistic works not
     subversive of public order in the territories in question shall
     continue to be admitted free of duty into such territories for the
     period of ten years, to be reckoned from the date of the exchange
     of the ratifications of this treaty.


     Spain shall have the power to establish consular officers in the
     ports and places of the territories the sovereignty over which has
     either been relinquished or ceded by the present treaty.


     The Government of each country will, for the term of ten years,
     accord to the merchant vessels of the other country the same
     treatment in respect to all port charges, including entrance and
     clearance dues, light dues and tonnage duties, as it accords to its
     own merchant vessels not engaged in the coastwise trade.

     This article may at any time be terminated on six months’ notice
     given by either Government to the other.


     It is understood that any obligations assumed in this treaty by the
     United States with respect to Cuba are limited to the time of its
     occupancy thereof; but it will upon the termination of such
     occupancy advise any Government established in the island to assume
     the same obligations.


     The present treaty shall be ratified by the President of the United
     States, by and with the consent of the Senate thereof, and by Her
     Majesty the Queen Regent of Spain; and the ratifications shall be
     exchanged at Washington within six months from the date hereof, or
     earlier if possible.

     In faith whereof we, the respective plenipotentiaries, have signed
     this treaty, and have hereunto affixed our seals.

     Done in duplicate at Paris the tenth day of December, in the year
     of our Lord one thousand eight hundred and ninety-eight.

In pursuance of these terms the evacuation of Porto Rico, Cuba and of
the Philippine Islands was carried to a successful end, under the
supervision of the Evacuation Commissioners appointed by Spain.

After the peace treaty had been ratified by the American Senate and
signed by President McKinley, on February 10, it received the signature
of the Queen Regent on March 17, the Cortes having been prorogued.

In a Red Book on the peace treaty issued by the Government later in the
year, Senor Rios thus explained Spain’s predicaments:

“The prostration and bloodless indifference of the public mind
constantly alluded to in the press, the want of well meditated
exposition of a high plane in the discussion and defense of Spain,
especially those which related to the colonial debts, perhaps the most
important which she had to assert in the conference; the multiplicity of
opinions constantly manifested during these negotiations on the other
points to be determined in the treaty; the eagerness apparent from the
first day on the part of this press that the Philippine Archipelago
should be abandoned, its preservation being considered incompatible with
the national interests; the incessant excitation of another part of the
press for this Commission to promptly terminate in any way whatever its
labors, giving way at once to the exigencies of the Federal Government,
and many other things which converted the Spanish press into a subject
for the preferred attention of the American Commissioners, weakened the
moral influence of this Commission and the force of its demands and of
the reasons on which it founded them. Would to God that they may not
also have strengthened the spirit of the American Commission to uphold
and amplify its exactions!

“The Spanish Commission, considering the narrow limits in which it could
move and which had been irrevocably fixed for Spain in the preliminaries
of peace signed at Washington on August 12 last, during these
negotiations constantly drew inspiration for its acts in the purpose to
save from the ruin of the colonial empire of Spain such remnants as were
possible, however lacking in importance these remnants might be, and,
above all, in its unconquerable resolve to never consent that the honor
and the dignity of the fatherland should become stained.

“As regards the question of the ‘Maine,’ the truth is that above all
precedents there weighed upon the American Commission the inability of
giving any satisfactory reply to the Spanish protest, because of the
action of the President of the Union--violative of the most elementary
dictates of generosity and prudence--on recalling, with language
offensive to Spain, the ‘Maine’ incident on the most solemn occasion in
the public life of the United States, and when the negotiations for the
re-establishment of peace were on the point of terminating.

“The Commission believes, then, that it has done its duty. It
understands the treaty concluded is the least prejudicial for Spain that
it was possible to obtain in view of the foreign circumstances, which
could not but inevitably bear down their heavy weight upon her. It
trusts that the coming time will demonstrate this, and it entertains the
hope that, despite the solution imposed on the terrible crisis through
which the nation has just passed, it may soon recover its strength and
grandeur, and it believes, finally, that the honor and the dignity of
the fatherland have been saved in these painful negotiations as the most
precious remnants of the wreck of the old Spanish colonial empire.”

The subsequent Bale of the Caroline and Ladrone Islands to Germany, for
the sum of 5,000,000 pesos, disposed of the last remnants of the Spanish
colonial empire. The Ministry of Colonies was abolished. Then followed a
series of military and naval courts-martial of the various commanding
officers implicated in the capitulations of Manila and Santiago de Cuba,
notably Admirals Montojo, Cervera and Generals Augustin, Jaudenes,
Linares and Toral. The officers laid the responsibility for their
actions at the door of the Ministry of Marine. Minister d’Aunon had to

Another Cabinet crisis resulted in a new Ministry composed of the
following members--President of Council and Minister Foreign Affairs,
Senor Silvela; War, General Azcarraga; Marine, Admiral Gomez Imaz;
Interior, Senor Dato; Finance, Senor Villaverde; Public Works, Marquis
Pidel; Justice, Senor Bas.

Later Count Torreanaz succeeded Senor Bas in the Ministry of Justice,
and General Weyler became Minister of War.

Weyler’s most formidable rival, Marshal Arsenio Martinez de Campos,
former Captain-General of Spain and Cuba, died in 1900 at Zarauz. With
Jovellar, he issued the pronunciamiento of Sagoote, through which
Alfonso reached the throne. Placed in full command of the Spanish forces
by young Alfonso, he ended the civil war by defeating Don Carlos at Pena
de la Plata in 1876. Despatched to Cuba, he succeeded in putting a stop
to the ten years’ war there by his liberal concessions to the
insurgents. Later he was once more sent to Cuba to cope with the final
insurrection in that island. But his measures were held to be too
conciliatory, and he was recalled in 1895, without having accomplished
his task. Campos never recovered from this disgrace.

The accession of King Alfonso XIII. to the throne, as actual ruler, was
set for his sixteenth birthday, May 17, 1902. Accordingly his mother
delivered her last speech from the throne as Queen-Regent in June of the
preceding year.

The complete list of titles falling to the little king upon his
accession are in themselves an epitome of Spain’s former historic
grandeur. King Alfonso’s full royal titles are: “His Most Catholic
Majesty, Alfonso, King of Spain, Castile and Léon, Aragon, the Two
Sicilies, Jerusalem, the Canary Islands, the East and West Indies,
India, the Oceanic Continent, and King of Gibraltar.”





Early Spanish paintings are feeble imitations of Italian and Flemish
art. They lack the simplicity of the one and the realism of the other.
In color they are somber and monotonous--two qualities which
characterize the whole Spanish school. The value of this school has been
curiously overrated. Comparatively speaking of brief existence, it has
produced but two great painters--Velasquez and Murillo. Their
contemporaries, Zurbaran, Del Mazo, Ribera, Alonso Cano, Herrera and
Roelas, were men of ability, no doubt, but they were not masters.

Excellent examples of Velasquez and of Murillo are to be found to-day in
the Museum of the Prado at Madrid, and in the Art Gallery of Seville.
The cathedrals and churches generally contain works of the principal
painters, both of the early and later times; but placed, as a rule, in
“Retablos” or altar-pieces, they are poorly exposed and difficult to

       *       *       *       *       *

DON DIEGO VELASQUEZ DE SILVA, or simply VELASQUEZ, the greatest painter
that Spain has produced, was born at Seville, in 1599, of parents of
Portuguese origin, and died at Madrid in 1660. He married in his youth
the daughter of FRANCISCO PACHECO, a painter of inferior merit, but a
learned writer on art, from whose advice and instruction he derived much
advantage. Velasquez showed from his childhood a genius for painting. He
began by copying carefully from nature, still life, and living models,
forming himself upon the study of pictures by Ribera and by Italian
masters of the Naturalistic school, which had been brought from Italy to
Spain. The best examples of his first manner are “The Adoration of the
Kings” and his famous “Borrachos,” or drunkards, in the Madrid Gallery.
In them the influence of Caravaggio and Ribera is very evident. In the
twenty-third year of his age he went to Madrid, and, attracting the
notice of influential persons, was soon taken into the service of Philip
IV.--an enthusiastic lover of art, and himself a painter. He remained
there for the rest of his life, and his pictures were almost exclusively
painted for his royal patron and for the grandees of the Spanish court.
A friendship with Rubens, who was in Madrid as embassador from the King
of England, in 1628, and two visits to Italy, in 1629 and 1648, led him
to modify his early manner. From the study at Venice of the masterpieces
of Titian and Tintoret, he acquired a greater harmony and transparency
of color, and a freer and firmer touch, without departing from that
truthful representation of nature which he always sought to attain. On
his second visit to Italy he chiefly studied in Rome. He again changed
his style: his coloring became more what the Italians term “sfumato,” or
hazy; and he returned, to some extent, to his early general soberness of
tone, rarely introducing bright colors into his last pictures.
Velasquez’s second and third manners, as well as his first, are fully
represented in the Madrid Gallery, which contains no less than sixty of
his pictures, or almost the whole of his genuine works. The “Borrachos”
have already been mentioned as an example of his first manner. The fine
portrait of the Infante Don Carlos, second son of Philip III., is
another. In his second manner are the “Surrender of Breda,” perhaps the
finest representation and treatment of a contemporary historical event
in the world; the magnificent portrait of the Count of Benavente, and
the four Dwarfs. In his third, the “Meninas,” and the “Hilanderas.” By
studying these pictures the student will soon be able to distinguish
between the three manners of the painter, and to decide for himself as
to the genuineness of the many pictures which pass for Velasquez’s in
the public and private galleries of Europe.

It was principally as a portrait-painter that Velasquez excelled.
Although he wanted the imagination of Titian, and gave less dignity and
refinement than that great master to his portraits, yet in a marvelous
power of rendering nature, and in truthfulness of expression, he was not
his inferior. In the imaginative faculties he was singularly deficient,
as his “Forge of Vulcan,” the “Coronation of the Virgin,” and other
works of that class in the Madrid Gallery, are sufficient to prove.
However, the “Crucifixion,” in the same collection, is a grand and
solemn conception, which has excited the enthusiastic admiration of some
critics. Velasquez was essentially a “naturalistic” painter. In the
representation of animals, especially dogs, and of details such as
armor, drapery, and objects of still life, he is almost without a rival.
His freedom of touch and power of producing truthful effects by the
simplest means are truly wonderful. His aerial perspective his light and
shade, his gradations of tone and color, are all equally excellent, and
have excited the admiration of Wilkie, and of the best judges of art.

The high offices which Velasquez held at court gave him but little time
to paint. The number of his pictures is, therefore, comparatively small.
They were principally executed for the royal palaces; those which have
escaped the fires that destroyed so many great works have been removed
to the Madrid Museum. The portraits which are attributed to him in many
public and private collections out of Spain are, for the most part, by
his pupils, or imitators and copyists. One of the most skillful of the
latter was a certain Lucas, who, not many years ago, succeeded in
deceiving many collectors.

Among his best scholars were: JUAN BAUTISTA DEL MAZO (d. 1667), his
son-in-law. How nearly he approached his master may be seen by his
admirable portrait of D. Tiburcio de Redin, and the view of Saragossa,
in which the figures have even been attributed to Velasquez, in the
Madrid Gallery. PAREJA, his half-caste slave, and afterward freedman (d.
1670), who imitated his master in his portraits, but not in his
religious and other subjects, in which he followed the Dutch and Italian
painters of the time; as in his “Calling of St. Mark,” in the same
gallery. CARRENO, a member of a noble family (b. 1614; d. 1685), who
succeeded Velasquez as court painter, and who is chiefly known by his
portraits of the idiot king (Charles II.), his mother, Mariana of
Austria, Don John of Austria (not the hero of Lepanto), and other royal
and courtly persons of the period. Spanish writers on art rank him with
Vandyke, to whom, however, he was greatly inferior. His coloring is
generally insipid, and wanting in vigor.

BARTOLOME ESTEBAN MURILLO was born at Seville in 1616. He studied under
Juan del Castillo, a very indifferent painter, but formed his style,
like Velasquez, on the works of Ribera and the Italian naturalistic
painters. Like that great master, too, he modified his “manner” three
times, as he gained in experience and knowledge. From his boyhood he
painted pictures which were sold in the market-place of his native city,
and bought by dealers; chiefly, it is said, for exportation to the
Spanish colonies in America. After obtaining a considerable reputation
at Seville, he went to Madrid to improve himself by the study of the
works of the great Italian masters in the royal collection. Their
influence led him to modify his first style, called by the Spaniards
_frio_ (cold), in which he had imitated the brown tints, dark shadows,
and conventional treatment of drapery of Ribera; but he did not abandon
it altogether. It may still be traced in his second, or _calido_ (warm)
manner, as in the celebrated “Holy Family,” called “Del Pajarito,” in
the Madrid Gallery. The advice of Velasquez, who treated him with great
kindness, and the works of Titian and Rubens, led him to adopt a warm,
harmonious and transparent coloring, and a more truthful rendering of
nature; at the same time his drawing became more free, if not more
correct. His third manner is termed by the Spaniards _vaporoso_ (misty),
from a gradual and almost imperceptible fusion of tints, producing a
kind of hazy effect. In it are painted, for the most part, his
well-known “Miraculous Conceptions,” the Virgin standing on the crescent
moon attended by angels. The three manners of Murillo are neither so
well defined nor so easily recognized as those of Velasquez. He never
completely abandoned one of them for the other, and in his last pictures
he frequently returned to the calido style. As a painter of portraits
and landscapes, he was inferior to Velasquez. It was only in religious
subjects, and especially in his Holy Families, that he surpassed him.
His Virgins are taken from the common type of Andalusian beauty,
slightly idealized; but he gives to them an expression of youthful
innocence and religious sentiment which makes him the most popular of
Spanish painters. The Spaniards are naturally proud of him. They believe
that he unites the best qualities of the greatest masters, and surpasses
them all. All other critics place him second to Velasquez, who
unquestionably possessed a more original genius. Comparisons between
these two great painters are, however, more than usually pointless and
misleading, the two men being essentially different in feeling, taste,
and manner.

Returning to Seville, after his first and only visit to Madrid, Murillo
established himself there for the rest of his life, painting, with the
help of scholars, many pictures for churches and convents in Spain and
her colonies. In the Peninsula, his best works are now only found at
Madrid and in his native city. The French invaders and the
picture-dealers carried the greater number away. Among those most worthy
of note at Madrid are the “St. Elizabeth of Hungary tending the Sick,”
and the “Patrician’s Dream,” now in the Academy of San Fernando, and the
two “Immaculate Conceptions” in the Gallery: at Seville, “St. Thomas of
Villanueva distributing Alms to the Poor,” in the public Museum; the
“St. Anthony of Padua” in the Cathedral; and the pictures in the
Caridad. Of his well-known sunburned beggar-boys and girls there are
none, that we know of, in Spain; many of those in European collections
are probably by his favorite pupil, VILLAVICENCIO, in whose arms he died
at Seville in 1682. There is a picture by this painter, who was of a
noble family, and rather an amateur than an artist, in the Madrid
Gallery, representing a group of boys at play. It has no great merit,
but shows how he attempted to imitate his master in this class of
subject. He was born in 1635, and died in 1700. The imitations and
copies of Murillo by TOBAR (d. 1758) are so successful that they
frequently pass for originals. The same may be said of some by MENESES,
who died early in the 18th century.

Among the contemporaries of Murillo was IRIARTE (b. 1620; d. 1685), one
of the few landscape-painters that Spain has produced. His landscapes
were much esteemed by Murillo, but they are not entitled to rank with
the works of any of the great masters in this branch of the art. The
Madrid Gallery contains five examples of them.

The following painters may be mentioned among the best and most
characteristic of the second class in the Spanish school: FRANCISCO DE
ZURBARAN, born in Estremadura in 1598, died at Madrid 1662, was
essentially a religious painter, and his somber coloring and the
subjects of his pictures are characteristic of Spanish bigotry and of
the Inquisition. In Spain he is chiefly known by his altar-pieces for
churches and convents; out of Spain by his monks and friars. A few
figures of female saints prove that he was not insensible to grace of
form and beauty of color. But he is usually mannered, and without
dignity. A disagreeable reddish hue pervades his larger pictures. He
formed himself, like his contemporaries, on the study of the Italian
painters of the Naturalistic school. Philip IV. is said to have named
him “Painter of the King, and King of Painters.” He enjoyed the first
title, but did not merit the second. His best work in Spain is, perhaps,
the “Apotheosis of St. Thomas Aquinas,” in the Seville Museum. It is a
grand, but somewhat stiff and unpleasing composition. Zurbaran is badly
represented in the Madrid Gallery. The “Christ Sleeping on the Cross” is
the most popular in it. One or two of his works are to be found in the
Academy of San Fernando.

ALONSO CANO (born at Granada, 1601; died there, 1667) enjoys the highest
reputation in Spain after Zurbaran. He was painter, sculptor, and
architect, and, moreover, carved and painted wooden figures of the
Virgin and Saints, an art in which he attained great success and renown.
Many examples of his skill may be seen at Granada. One of the most
celebrated is the statuette of St. Francis in the sacristy of the
Cathedral of Toledo. Cano was a violent, but not unkindly man,
constantly engaged in quarrels and lawsuits. He ended by becoming a
canon of the Cathedral of Granada, after narrowly escaping from the
clutches of the Inquisition. His drawing is carefully studied, but is
frequently exaggerated, and wants ease and flow; his coloring
conventional and somewhat weak; but there is a delicacy of expression
and refinement in his works which have earned him the praise of some
critics. The Madrid Gallery contains a few of his pictures: among them a
“Dead Christ”; but he is best seen at Granada.

FRANCISCO HERRERA EL VIEJO, or the elder (b. 1576; d. 1656). His
principal works are at Seville and out of Spain. The Madrid Gallery
contains nothing by him. Spanish writers on art attribute to him the
introduction into Spain of a new style of painting, characteristic of
the national genius. It was vigorous, but coarse, and has little to
recommend it even to those who admire the Italian eclectic school. Like
Cano, he was a man of hot temper, quarreled with his pupils, among whom
was Velasquez, and was thrown into prison on a charge of coining false
money. He was released by Philip IV. on account of his merits as a
painter. His best work in Spain is the “Last Judgment,” in the church of
St. Bernardo at Seville, which is praised for its composition and the
correct anatomy of the human form. Herrera painted in fresco, for which
he was well fitted from his bold and rapid execution; but his works in
that material have mostly perished.

FRANCISCO HERRERA EL MOZO, or the younger (b. 1622; d. 1685), son of the
former, studied at Rome, where he was chiefly known for his pictures of
dead animals and still life. The Italians nicknamed him “Lo Spagnuolo
dei pesci,” from his clever representations of fish. He was a painter of
small merit; weak and affected in his drawing, color, and composition.
The Madrid Gallery contains but one of his pictures--the “Triumph of St.
Hermenegildo.” Like his father, he painted frescoes, some of which are
still preserved in the churches of Madrid. He was also an architect, and
made the plans for the “Virgen del Pilar” at Saragossa.

JUAN DE LAS ROELAS, commonly known in Spain as “El Clerigo Roelas,” was
born at Seville about 1558, and died in 1625. He studied at Venice;
hence the richness and brilliancy of color in his best works, as in the
fine picture of the “Martyrdom of St. Andrew,” in the Museum of Seville.
In the churches of that city are some altar-pieces by him worthy of
notice. He is scarcely known out of Spain, or, indeed, out of Seville,
although he may be ranked among the best of the Spanish painters of the
second rank. The picture in the Madrid Gallery attributed to him, if
genuine, is a very inferior work.

JUAN DE VALDÉS LEAL--born at Cordova in 1630, died at Seville 1691--was
a painter of considerable ability, but of a hasty and jealous temper,
which he especially displayed toward Murillo, the superiority of whose
work he would not acknowledge. His pictures are rare, and are best seen
at Seville. The Caridad in that city contains two, representing the
“Triumph of Death,” which are powerful, but coarse. He was also an
engraver of skill.

FRANCISCO RIZZI, the son of a Bolognese painter who had settled in
Spain, was born at Madrid in 1608, and died there in 1685. He was a
rapid and not unskillful painter, and was employed to decorate in
fresco, in the Italian fashion, the churches and royal palaces of the
capital. His well-known picture in the Madrid Gallery representing the
“Auto da Fé” held in the Plaza Mayor before Charles II. and his queen,
Marie Luisa of Orleans, in 1680, although awkward and formal in
composition, is cleverly painted.

CLAUDIO COELLO, died 1693, was chiefly employed by the Spanish court in
portrait-painting and in decorating the royal palaces for triumphs and
festivities. His best known and most important picture, in the sacristy
of the Escorial, is the “Santa Forma,” or “Removal of the Miraculous
Wafer of Gorcum,” in which he has introduced portraits of Charles II.
and of the officers of his court. It is crowded and unskillful in
composition, but has merits which show that he had preserved the best
traditions of the Spanish school of painters, of whom he was almost the

The history of Spanish painting closes with the seventeenth century.
During the eighteenth there appeared a few feeble painters who imitated,
but were even immeasurably behind the Luca Giordanos, Tiepolos, and
other Italians whom the Bourbon kings invited to Madrid to decorate the
new royal palace, and to make designs for the royal manufactory of
tapestries. The first who attempted to revive Spanish art was FRANCISCO
GOYA (born in 1746), a vigorous but eccentric painter and etcher in aqua
fortis, not wanting in genius. He studied at Rome, and returning to
Spain executed frescoes, with little success, in churches at Madrid and
elsewhere. He became “pintor de camara,” or court painter, to the weak
Charles IV. and vicious Ferdinand VII. In numerous portraits of these
kings and of members of the Spanish Bourbon family he made them, perhaps
with deliberate malice--for in politics he was an ardent liberal--even
more hideous than they were. His large picture of Charles IV. and his
family in the Madrid Gallery is the best, but by no means an attractive
example of his skill, and is in parts, especially in the details of
costume, not altogether unworthy of Velasquez, whom he sought to
imitate. But his genius was chiefly shown in his etchings, in which, in
a grotesque, and not always decent way, he lashed the vices and
corruption of his country, and vented his hatred against its French
invaders. The Spaniards are very proud of Goya. The author of the “Guide
to the Madrid Gallery” discovers in his works a union of the best
qualities of Rembrandt, Titian, Paul Veronese, Watteau, and Lancret! He
was, no doubt, a powerful and original painter, and his touch is often
masterly; but he was incorrect in his drawing, and his color is
frequently exaggerated and unnatural. His designs for the tapestries in
the royal palaces are generally weak and ill-drawn; but they are
interesting as representations of national manners and costume. Goya
died in voluntary exile at Bordeaux in 1828, having left Spain disgusted
with the political reaction which set in on the restoration of the
Bourbons, and with the persecution of the best and most enlightened of
his countrymen. His works have of late years been much sought after,
especially in France. His etchings, consisting chiefly of political
caricatures (caprichos), scenes in the bull-ring, the horrors of war,
etc., are rare. A new edition has recently been published of the
“Caprichos” from the worn-out plates.

Goya may be considered the founder of the modern Spanish school of
painting, which has produced Fortuny, Madrazo, Plamaroli, and a number
of other clever painters who have achieved a European reputation. It is
not, however, in Spain, but in the private collections of London, Paris,
and New York, that their principal works are to be found. Spaniards have
little love or knowledge of art, and the high prices it is now the
fashion to pay for Spanish pictures are beyond their means.

       *       *       *       *       *

The history of architecture in Spain is similar to that of France and
other countries of northern Europe, with, however, the essential
difference that Moorish art in the Middle Ages attained in Spain as
great an importance as in the East, and when combined with Christian
art, a new style was formed, known by the name of Morisco or Mudejar,
which is not met with out of the Spanish Peninsula, and is of great

Spanish architecture may be divided, after the prehistoric period, and
invasions of the Phœnicians and Carthaginians, in the following manner:

1. Roman period, until the invasions of the Goths.

2. Latin Byzantine style, fifth to end of tenth century.

3. Moorish architecture, eighth to fifteenth century.

4. Romanesque style, eleventh, twelfth, and part of thirteenth century.

5. Pointed architecture, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and part of
sixteenth century.

6. Mudejar style, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth, and part of
sixteenth century.

7. Renaissance or Plateresque style, Græco-Roman, and Churrigueresque.

Several of the inscriptions which have come down to us of the Roman
period (see “Corpus Inscrip.,” Vol. II., Emil Hübner) mention different
buildings of public utility and adornment which were in course of
construction in Spain. The number which still remains is very great, and
may be found in almost every province; many have, however, been sadly
mutilated. The finest are undoubtedly the aqueduct at Segovia
(constructed of huge stones, and still used for carrying water to the
town), the Bridge of Alcantara (Estremadura), with its triumphal arch in
the center and temple at one end, and the walls of Lugo and Astorga. The
general structure of these monuments and their ornamentation are the
same as those of ancient Rome: it is well known that the Romans imposed
their art on the countries which came under their dominion.

Two remarkable specimens exist of the Visigothic period: the church of
San Roman de Hornija (near Toro), 646, and San Juan de Banos (near Venta
de Banos), 661. Although these churches have suffered much from later
additions, they still retain a great part of their construction and part
of the primitive building. A great number of fragments remain in Spain
of this period. They must be examined in order to judge this
architecture. Some are capitals of columns in the Cathedral of Cordova
and some churches at Toledo, and different friezes and fragments which
have been applied to different uses at Toledo and Merida. The votive
crowns found at Guarrazar, now at Cluny (Paris) and armory of Madrid,
give an excellent idea of the ornamentation of the Visigoths. Several
examples of architecture remain posterior to the Visigoths, and anterior
to the Romanesque style of the eleventh century. The most important are
the churches of Sta. Maria Naranco and St. Miguel de Lino, near Oviedo,
Sta. Christina de Lena (Asturias), a very remarkable specimen of
Byzantine construction, and the churches of San Pedro and San Pablo,

The invasion of the Arabs in 711 caused their architecture to extend
itself in the Peninsula. Its adaptation to churches and other buildings
of the Christians created a new style, known as Mudejar. The finest
specimen of Oriental architecture in Spain is the mosque at Cordova
(ninth century). Byzantine models were copied there in the same manner
as at Jerusalem, Damascus, and Cairo. The small mosque at Toledo (Cristo
de la Luz) is of the same period, and part of the church of Santiago de
Peñalva (Vierzo), the only example which is known of a Christian church
built in the Moorish style.

During the eleventh and twelfth centuries this architecture underwent
radical modifications in Spain, in the same manner as in the East, and
a new style arose which is very different to the earlier one. No writers
on this subject have explained this transformation in the East in a
satisfactory manner: it is not easy to study this transition in Spain,
for it coincides with the time in which the Spanish Moors were not rich
or powerful enough to build large constructions, as they did in the
thirteenth century, after the kings of Granada had settled there. At
this period of their art the forms of capitals, which partook of a
Byzantine and classical form, changed. Tiles are used to decorate the
walls, which are covered with an ornamentation in relief in stucco, in
which are introduced inscriptions in Cufic and African characters; the
ceilings are decorated with inlaid woodwork and stalactical pendentives
in stucco. This style ends with the conquest of Granada, 1492. The
Alhambra is the most important example of this architecture, and
following it the Alcazar of Seville.

Owing to the gradual conquests by the Christians of towns belonging to
the Muhammadans, several of them continued to be inhabited by Moors, who
kept their customs and religion. They were called Moriscos or Mudejares.
The chief industries of the country were in their hands, and several
churches and other buildings of importance were built by them. They
accommodated their architecture to European or Christian necessities,
and created a new style (Mudejar), a mixture of Christian and Moorish
art, which is only to be found in the Spanish Peninsula. The finest
specimens are of the fourteenth century. The religious constructions of
this period are remarkable for their brickwork in towers and apses, and
fine wooden ceilings, artesonados. Examples exist at Toledo, Seville,
and Granada. The interesting synagogues built by Moriscos are at Toledo
and Segovia. As specimens of civil architecture, the finest are Casa de
Pilatos (Seville), Palace of Mendoza (Guadalajara), Archbishop’s Palace
(Alcalá), Casa de Mesa (Toledo). This style continued in vogue during
the greater part of the sixteenth century, although late Gothic was
everywhere predominant. A most striking example in which the three
styles--Moorish, Flamboyant, and Renaissance--are combined, is to be
found in a chapel of the cathedral of Sigüenza.

The Romanesque style of architecture was imported in the eleventh and
twelfth centuries from France, even more directly than in other
countries, owing to the immense influence exercised by a large number of
prelates and priests, who came from Cluny and Cister, and the French
princes and families who settled in Spain. The general features of this
architecture are similar to those of France: the differences exist
chiefly in the general plan of the churches rather than in their
construction and ornamentation. The choirs in Spanish cathedrals are
placed in the central nave, a traditional remembrance of the early
basilica. In some localities, Segovia, Avila, and Valladolid, some of
these churches have external cloisters, an Oriental or Italian
modification, which never occurs in France or the north of Europe.
Romanesque examples are very numerous in Spain. Some, such as the
doorway of the Cathedral of Santiago (Galicia), and the Old Cathedral
(Salamanca), are not surpassed by any similar buildings in Europe.
Specimens are only found in the northern provinces, as the south was not
conquered from the Moors until the thirteenth century. Interesting
examples exist in Asturias, Galicia, Castile, Aragon, and Cataluña. The
cloisters of Gerona and Tarragona are unrivaled. Of the many striking
examples of Transition from Romanesque to Early Pointed, the finest are
the old cathedral of Lerida, the cathedrals of Tarragona and Santiago,
and the collegiate church of Tudela.

The specimens of Pointed style in Spain present no other variety than
the choirs in the centers of the cathedrals. Although this style was
imported from France early in the thirteenth century, in the same manner
as in Germany, Romanesque churches continued to be built, and Pointed
architecture was only finally adopted at the end of the century. The
finest cathedrals in Spain of this architecture are those of Toledo,
Leon, and Burgos. A great number of civil and religious buildings of
this style are to be met with in Spain, in which the art-student will
find constant elements of study: it underwent the same modifications in
Spain as in other countries, until it reached, in the fifteenth century,
its latest period, the Flamboyant style. This style lasts longer in
Spain than in other countries, and acquires great importance. The
cathedrals of Salamanca (la nueva) and Segovia, both built in late
Gothic, were begun in the sixteenth century, when in other parts of
Europe and even in Spain itself Italian Renaissance models were largely
imported. Spanish cathedrals are undoubtedly, with the exception of
Italy, the most interesting in Europe; for although they cannot compete
in architectural details with those of France, they are vastly superior
in regard to the objects they contain of ecclesiastical furniture of
every kind--iron railings, carved stalls, monstrances, church-plate,
vestments, pictures, and sepulchers. Toledo and Seville cathedrals are
museums in their way.

Italian models were copied in Spain from the end of the fifteenth
century. The portals of Santa Cruz at Valladolid and Toledo are of this
period. Gothic architecture continued, however, for several years to
alternate with this style. The combination of these styles produced an
important series of models known in Spain by the name of Plateresco.

The revival of the fine arts coincided in Spain with the greatest power
and richness of the country. The marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella
united Castile, Aragon, and the kingdom of Naples. The conquest of
Granada completed the political unity of the country: the discoveries of
Columbus, Cortes, and Pizarro brought riches from a new world, and the
union with the House of Austria, the Flemish States, an immense power,
which it enjoyed during the reign of the Emperor Charles V. Renaissance
architecture is better represented in Spain than in any other country
except Italy. In almost all towns of importance admirable examples of
this style will be found. The finest are at Salamanca: the University,
Santo Domingo, Casa de las Conchas, and Salinas, San Marcos (Leon), Casa
de Ayuntamiento (Seville), Valladolid, Saragossa, Burgos, etc.

The cathedral and palace of Charles V. (Granada) may be quoted as an
example of pure Græco-Roman style. Part of the Alcazar at Toledo belongs
to this same period. The tendency to copy classical models increased
daily. The Monastery of the Escorial may be considered the most
important specimen of this school. In the seventeenth century the
Borromenisco style was imported from Italy. The Pantheon at the Escorial
is a good example. This architectural decay increased in Spain with
great rapidity, and in no country did it reach to such an extravagant
point. It lasted during the seventeenth and part of the eighteenth
centuries. In Spain this style is called Churrigueresque, after the
architect Churriguera. Examples will be found everywhere. The
Transparente (Cathedral of Toledo), retablos of San Esteban (Salamanca),
Cartuja (Granada), and façade of Hospicio (Madrid), may be considered
the most remarkable.

The creation of the Academy of San Fernando, the French architects who
accompanied Philip V., and the efforts of Charles III. to favor
classical studies, produced the same pretentious and classical reaction
as in the rest of Europe. The Palace and Convent of Salesas (Madrid) are
specimens of the first movement. The Museo and Observatory of Madrid
belong to the end of the last and beginning of the present century.



The history of Spanish literature commences at the end of the eleventh
or beginning of the twelfth century, when the dialect emerged from the
corrupted Latin, and became an independent language capable of producing
literary works.

The origin of the language may be traced to the writers of the sixth,
seventh, to the eleventh century. They wrote in the more or less
barbarous Latin of the period. The most important authors of this time
were San Isidoro and his pupils, St. Eugenio, St. Ildefonso, St.
Eulogio, Alvaro, Sansom, Pero Alonso, and Oliva. The writers of the
Roman period, Porcio Latro, Seneca, Lucan, Martial, Pomponius Mela,
Collumela, Silius Italicus, and Quintillian, though born in Spain, must
be numbered among classical authors. The Spanish language is derived in
a direct manner from the Latin, though it has been enriched by a great
number of words belonging to the different nations which have occupied
the whole or part of the Peninsula. Iberian, Punic, Greek, Visigothic,
Hebrew, and Arabic words are met with in large numbers. The abundance of
these last has induced some critics to infer that the origin of the
language is Semitic, but its grammatical structure is undoubtedly Latin.
The abundance of Oriental words does not influence its organization, or
produce any further result than to add nouns to the language.

Spanish literature is generally divided into three groups--twelfth
century to end of fifteenth; sixteenth to seventeenth; eighteenth to the
present day.

It is highly probable that Spanish poetry began by commemorating the
heroic deeds of Pelayo and other heroes who fought against the Moors;
but we can trace nothing to that period. The earliest compositions which
have reached us are, a “Charter of Oviedo,” 1145 (the “Charter of
Aviles,” 1155, has been proved to be a forgery), and two poems on the
Cid, the favorite hero of popular Spanish poetry, 1040-1099. The best of
these poems is the one beginning: El mio Cid (vide Ticknor). Though
incomplete, it constitutes a real epic poem, and if examined in detail
appears to have been written at the beginning of the twelfth century.
Three contemporary works have reached us: “La Vida de Santa Maria
Egipciaca,” “El Libro de los tres reyes d’Orient,” and “Los tres reyes
magos.” The first two were evidently written under a French influence;
“Los tres reyes magos” was written for recital in a church.

The same intellectual development appears in Spain in the thirteenth
century as in Italy and France. The universities of Palencia and
Salamanca contributed toward it. The tendency of the writers of this
period is to imitate classic authors. A priest, Gonzalo de Berceo, is
the first poet of any importance in the thirteenth century, 1230: he
wrote a large number of verses on religious subjects. His poem to the
Virgin contains some poetical passages. Two poems appeared shortly
afterward, “El Libro de Apollonio” and “El Libro de Alexandre,” by J.
Lorenzo Segura, adapted from the history of Alexandre Le Grand, by
Chatillon. The poem “Fernan Gonzalez” is of the same period: it is free
from foreign influence. Prose is improved at the beginning of the
century by the translation from Latin of the “Fuero Juzgo,” and other
historical and didactical works.

Don Alonso el Sabio, 1221-1284, absorbs the scientific and literary life
of Spain during his time: the most eminent of his countrymen, Spaniards,
Jews and Moors, gathered round him. So many works have appeared under
his name that it is incredible they should all have been written by him.
Probably only the poems, “Las Querellas,” written in the Castilian
dialect, are his. An extensive Universal History, the first written in
Europe in a vernacular language; the “Leyes de Partidas,” a series of
legal works; “El Saber de Astronomia,” a cyclopedia of this science as
it stood at that time; the “Cantigas,” a poem containing upward of four
hundred compositions to the Virgin, written in the Galician dialect and
in the Provençal style, and several other works, have passed hitherto as
proceeding from his pen.

Don Sancho el Bravo, a son of Don Alonso, wrote the “Lucidario” and
“Libro de los Castigos,” a moral treatise dedicated to his son. The
“Libro del Tesoro” and “La Gran Conquista de Ultramar” were translated
at his instigation from the Latin. The Infante, Don Juan Manuel, 1282, a
nephew of Don Alonso, wrote several works on different subjects. The
finest is the interesting collection of fables, “El Conde Lucanor.” They
are earlier than the Decameron or Canterbury Tales.

Spanish poetry revived in the fourteenth century. The archpriest of
Hita, 1330-1343, wrote thousands of verses on different subjects. Rabbi
Don Santob, 1850, a Spanish Jew, dedicated to his friend, King Peter
the Cruel, his principal poetical works. The best is on the “Danza de la
Muerte,” a favorite subject of that time. Pero Lopez de Ayala,
1372-1407, who wrote the “Rimado de Palacio,” and Rodrigo Yanez, the
author of the “Poema de Alonso XI.,” end the series of poets of the
fourteenth century. Romances of chivalry became popular in Spain in the
fifteenth century: their popularity lasted until the sixteenth, when
Cervantes published his “Don Quixote.” “Amadis de Gaula” was the first
work of importance of this kind; “Palmerin de Oliva,” etc., follow it.
The Coronicas belong to this period. They are semi-historical
narratives, in which the leading events of each reign are described.

Provençal style was introduced into Spain early in the fifteenth
century. It became very popular owing to the patronage of Don Juan II.,
1407-1454. The most important courtiers imitated the king’s example, and
poems have reached us by Don Alvaro de Luna, Don Alonso de Cartagena and
others. The Marquis of Villena and Macias belong to this period. Fernan
Perez de Guzman wrote at this time his “Livros de los claros varones de
España,” and Juan de Mena, an excellent poet, his “Laberynto” and
“Dialogo de los siete Pecados mortales.” The last poet of the reign of
Don Juan II. is the Marquis of Santillana. Several wrote late in the
century: the most excellent among them being Jorge Manrique, whose
“Coplas” on the death of his father are admirable. Novels begin at this
time, generally copied from Italian models. The finest is “La
Celestina,” written in acts like a drama, one of the best works in
Spanish literature.

Romances or ballads are the most original form of Spanish poetry. They
constitute the popular epic poem, and are the most spontaneous
productions of the Spanish language.

The revival of literature coincides in Spain with the period of its
greatest power and prosperity. The early part of the sixteenth century
is called “el Siglo de oro.” An Italian influence is predominant.
Castillejo keeps to the earlier style in his charming compositions:
“Dialogo entre el autor y su pluma,” and “Sermones de Amores.” Boscan
and Garcilaso were the first to introduce the Italian measure into
Spanish verse. Some poets wrote in both these styles. Gregorio Sylvestre
is among the best of them; an excellent poet, but very little known.

Garcilaso was the earliest lyrical poet, 1503-1536. His verses are pure
in style, in the manner of Virgil and Horace. His life is interesting:
he fought by the side of Charles V., and was killed at the assault of
the fortress of Frejus (Nice). One of his contemporaries, Hurtado de
Mendoza, a soldier and statesman, popularized classical studies. His
best works are the “Rebellion de los Moriscos” and the well-known
“Lazarillo de Tormes.” The classical style is now universally adopted in
Spain. Fray Luis de Leon was undoubtedly the best poet of this period.
His ode on the “Ascension” and his “Poema a la Virgen” may certainly be
reckoned among the best compositions in the language. Several poets of
an inferior order belong to the sixteenth century. Cesina, Acuna,
Figueroa, Medrano, La Torre, Mesa and Alcazar are among the best. Their
works are clever in parts, but are generally unequal. This
characteristic becomes a leading feature in Spanish poetry. At the end
of the seventeenth century lyrics began to decay, but no author carried
affectation and exaggeration to such a height as Gongora, 1561-1627: a
gifted poet, full of charm in his simple compositions (vide
translations by Archdeacon Churton), though most obscure in his
“Soledades” and “Polifemo.” This style was called in Spain culteranismo,
and not even the best dramatic authors of the seventeenth century were
free from its defects. The imitators of Gongora continued until the
eighteenth century, although here and there a poet like Rioja tried to
check the movement.

Epic poetry in Spain is inferior to the dramatic and lyrical styles. The
specimens which exist are old and devoid of inspiration. “El
Monserrate,” by Virues; “La Cristiada,” by Hojeda; “La Vida de San
Jose,” by Valdivieso, and “El Bernardo,” by Balbuena, may be quoted as
examples. “La Araucana,” by Ercilla, contains some poetical passages,
but in general is hardly more than a historical narrative. “La
Gatomaquia,” by Lope de Vega, though a burlesque, is considered by many
critics the best epic poem in the Spanish language.

Dramatic literature unites, perhaps, the highest conditions of
originality and power. Its earliest productions are the liturgical
representations of the Middle Ages, “Misterios” or “Autos.” Although
works of this kind are mentioned as early as the thirteenth century, the
first which have a distinct dramatic character are the “Coplas de Mingo
Revulgo” and “El Dialogo entre el Amor y un viejo.” These compositions
were written under the reign of Henry IV. At the latter part of the
fifteenth century a series of dramatic works already existed. Juan de la
Encina began the history of the Spanish drama. Lucas Fernandez was a
contemporary writer, and shortly afterward Gil Vicente. Torres Naharro,
1517, published his “Propaladia,” which contains eight comedies. Lope de
Rueda founded the modern school, and he is imitated and improved by his
followers. The drama does not attain its highest importance until Lope
de Vega (1562-1635), the most prolific of Spanish poets. He tells us he
had written fifteen hundred plays, without counting “Autos” and
“Entremeses.” Cervantes says that forty companies of actors existed at
this time in Madrid alone, consisting of no less than one thousand
actors. In 1636, three hundred companies of actors appeared in different
parts of Spain. Lope de Vega is rather unequal as a dramatic author;
but “El mejor Alcalde el rey,” “La Estrella de Sevilla,” “La dama boba,”
and “La moza de cantaro,” entitle him to rank among the best European
dramatists. Three authors share Lope’s glory, Tirso, Calderon and

No Spanish dramatist has surpassed Tirso in his facility of treating the
most varied subjects in admirable versification. His comedy of “Don Gil
de las calzas verdes” is as good as his dramas of “El Rey Don Pedro en
Madrid,” “El condenado por desconfiado,” or “El convidado de piedra.”
The popular type of Don Juan is taken from this drama. Alarcon is
undoubtedly the most philosophical Spanish dramatist. His comedy, “Las
paredes oyen,” is admirable, and “La verdad sospechosa,” so much admired
by Corneille, as he tells us himself, when he took the plot for his
“Menteur.” Calderon is the most popular dramatic author. He idealizes
more than his predecessors, and his genius embraces the most varied
subjects. His comedies are charming; as examples, “La dama duende” and
“Casa con dos puertas” are among the best. “El medico de su honra” is
full of dramatic power, and nothing can be more poetical than “La Vida
es sueno” (vide MacCarthy’s translations). The best imitators of the
great dramatists are Rojas and Moreto: “Garcia del Castanar,” by the
former, and “Desden con el Desden” of the latter, are equal to the
dramas of the great masters.

The earliest Spanish novels are “Lazarillo de Tonnes,” by Hurtado de
Mendoza, and the “Diana Enamorada,” by Monte Mayor. They are followed by
“El Picaro Guzman de Alfarache” and “El Escudero Marcos de Obregon,” by
Aleman and Espinel. A great number of novels were written in the
following century, but were all eclipsed by Cervantes’ “Don Quixote,”
which is too well known to need any comment.

Several authors in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries cultivated
different literary styles. Quevedo is the most remarkable of them. He
was the quaintest and most original of humorists. He wrote a number of
works of real merit, none of which has been so popular as his “Satiras”
in prose and verse.

Political and moralist writers of the sixteenth and seventeenth
centuries are very numerous. Of these Guevara, Sta. Teresa, Fray Luis de
Granada, Gracian, Saavedra Fajardo, Mariana, Morales, Zurita, and Solis
are the most remarkable.

The end of the seventeenth century was the worst period of Spanish
literature. Philip V., the first king of the House of Bourbon, 1700, did
his utmost to improve the intellectual culture of the country. The
Biblioteca Real was founded in 1711, and the Academias de la Lengua,
Historia, and Bellas Artes in 1714; several literary reviews also
appeared. The best poets of this period are Antonio de Toledo and
Gerardo Lobo. The only productions, however, of any literary merit are
the critical works of Flores, Masdeu, Mayans and others. During the
reign of Charles III., 1759-1788, Melendez wrote some tolerable verses.
He is followed by Fr. Diego Gonzalez, Cienfuegos, Nicolas de Moratin
and others. The most original writers of the end of the eighteenth
century are, however, undoubtedly Leandro Moratin and Ramon. The two
comedies, “El Si de las ninas” and “El Cafe,” by the former, are
charming, and the “Sainetes,” by De la Cruz, in the manner of Plautus,
continue to be very popular in Spain.

Spanish literature of the present century possesses no definite
character, although several writers can bear comparison with the best
Spanish authors of other periods. Every school and style has been
copied: Byron, Schiller, Goethe, Victor Hugo, and Dumas. The earliest
author of any importance is Quintana, a correct and inspired poet. His
odes on “La Imprenta,” “Panteon del Escorial,” and “Batalla de
Trafalgar” are very good. Martinez de la Rosa, Lista, and Nicasio
Gallegos form a group of able versifiers. Espronceda is a constant
imitator of Byron, although his legend of “El Estudiante de Salamanca”
is original, and a very fine composition. Zorrilla is the best
representative of the romantic school of 1830-40: his works are
sometimes unequal, and his legends are his best lyrical compositions.
His finest dramas are “Don Juan Tenorio” and “El Zapatero y el Rey.” The
“Romances” and drama of “Don Alvaro de Luna,” by the Duke of Rivas, have
been very popular; but no author is so deservingly so as Breton de los
Herreres, an excellent writer, who has left behind nearly one hundred
comedies, some of which, “Marcela,” “Muerete y veras,” “El pelo de la
dehesa,” etc., are perfect in their way.



The Bull-fight, or rather Bull Feast (Fiesta de Toros), is a modern
sport. Bulls were killed in ancient amphitheaters, but the present modus
operandi is modern, and, however based on Roman institutions, is
indubitably a thing devised by the Moors of Spain, for those in Africa
have neither the sport, the ring, nor the recollection. The principle
was the exhibition of horsemanship, courage and dexterity with the
lance; for in the early bull-fight the animal was attacked by gentlemen
armed only with the Rejon, a short projectile spear about four feet
long. This was taken from the original Iberian spear, the Sparus of Sil.
Ital. (viii. 523), the Lancea of Livy (xxxiv. 15), and is seen in the
hands of the horsemen of the old Romano-Iberian coinage. To be a good
rider and lancer was essential to the Spanish Caballero. This original
form of bull-fight (now only given on grand occasions) is called a
Fiesta Real. Such a one Philip IV. exhibited on the Plaza Mayor of
Madrid before Charles I. of England; Ferdinand VII. in 1833, at the
ratification of the Juramento, the swearing allegiance to Isabella II.;
and Alfonso XII., on his marriages, January 23, 1878, and November 29,

These Fiestas Reales form the coronation ceremonial of Spain, and the
Caballeros en Plaza represent our champions. Bulls were killed, but no
beef eaten; as a banquet was never a thing of Iberia.

The final conquest of the Moors, and the subsequent cessation of the
border chivalrous habits of Spaniards, and especially the accession of
Philip V., proved fatal to this ancient usage of Spain. The spectacle,
which had withstood the influence of Isabella the Catholic, and had
beaten the Pope’s Bulls, bowed before the despotism of fashion, and by
becoming the game of professionals instead of that of gentlemen it was
stripped of its chivalrous character, and degenerated into the vulgar
butchery of low mercenary bull-fighters, just as did the rings and
tournaments of chivalry into those of ruffian pugilists.

The Spanish bulls have been immemorially famous. Hercules, that renowned
cattle-fancier, was lured into Spain by the lowing of the herds of
Geryon, the ancestor (se dice) of the Duque de Osuna. The best bulls in
Andalusia are bred by Cabrera at Utrera, in the identical pastures where
Geryon’s herds were pastured and “lifted” by the demigod, whence,
according to Strabo (iii. 169), they were obliged, after fifty days’
feeding, to be driven off from fear of bursting from fat. Some of the
finest Castilian bulls, such as appear at Madrid, are bred on the
Jarama, near Aranjuez.

Bull-fights are extremely expensive, costing from one thousand five
hundred dollars to two thousand dollars apiece; accordingly, except in
the chief capitals and Andalusia, they are only got up now and then, on
great church festivals and upon royal and public rejoicings. As
Andalusia is the headquarters of the ring, and Seville the capital, the
alma mater of the tauromachists of the Peninsula, the necessity of
sending to a distance for artists and animals increases the expense. The
prices of admittance, compared to the wages of labor in Spain, are high.

The profits of the bull-fight are usually destined for the support of
hospitals, and, certainly, the fever and the frays subsequent to the
show provide patients as well as funds. The Plaza is usually under the
superintendence of a society of noblemen and gentlemen, called
Maestranzas, instituted in 1562, by Philip II., in the hope of improving
the breed of Spanish horses and men-at-arms.

The first thing is to secure a good place beforehand, by sending for a
Boletin de Sombra, a “ticket in the shade.” The prices of the seats vary
according to position; the best places are on the northern side, in the
shade. The transit of the sun over the Plaza, the zodiacal progress into
Taurus, is certainly not the worst calculated astronomical observation
in Spain: the line of shadow defined on the arena is marked by a
gradation of prices. The sun of torrid, tawny Spain, on which it once
never set, is not to be trifled with, and the summer season is selected,
because pastures are plentiful, which keep the bulls in good condition,
and the days are longer. The fights take place in the afternoon, when
the sun is less vertical. The different seats and prices are detailed in
the bills of the play, with the names of the combatants, and the colors
and breeds of the bulls.

The day before the fight the bulls destined for the spectacle are
brought to a site outside the town. No amateur should fail to ride out
to the pastures from whence the cattle (ganado) are selected. The
encierro, the driving them from this place to the arena, is a service of
danger, but is extremely picturesque and national. No artist or
aficionado should omit attending it The bulls are enticed by tame oxen,
cabestros, into a road which is barricaded on each side, and then are
driven full speed by the mounted conocedores into the Plaza. It is so
exciting a spectacle that the poor who cannot afford to go to the
bull-fight risk their lives and cloaks in order to get the front places,
and the best chance of a stray poke en passant.

The next afternoon (Sunday is usually the day) all the world crowds to
the Plaza de toros; nothing, when the tide is full, can exceed the
gayety and sparkle of a Spanish public going, eager and dressed in their
best, to the fight. All the streets or open spaces near the outside of
the arena are a spectacle. The bull-fight is to Madrid what a review is
to Paris, and the Derby to London. Sporting men now put on all their
majo-finery; the distinguished ladies wear on these occasions white lace
mantillas; a fan, abanico, is quite necessary, as it was among the
Romans. The aficionados and “the gods” prefer the pit, tendido, the
lower range, in order, by being nearer, that they may not lose the nice
traits of tauromaquia. The Plaza has a language to itself, a dialect
peculiar to the ring. The coup d’œil on entrance is unique; the
classical scene bursts on the foreigner in all the glory of the south,
and he is carried back to the Coliseum under Commodus. The president
sits in the center box. The proceedings open with the procession of the
performers, the mounted spearmen, picadores; then follow the chulos, the
attendants on foot, who wear their silk cloaks, capas de durancillo, in
a peculiar manner, with the arms projecting in front; and, lastly, the
slayers, the espadas, and the splendid mule-team, el tiro, which is
destined to carry off the slain. The profession of bull-fighter is very
low-caste in Spain, although the champions are much courted by some
young nobles, like the British blackguard boxers, and are the pride and
darlings of all the lower classes. Those killed on the spot were
formerly denied the burial rites, as dying without confession, but a
priest is now in attendance with Su Magestad (the consecrated Host),
ready to give always spiritual assistance to a dying combatant.

When all the bull-fighting company have advanced and passed the
president, a trumpet sounds; the president throws the key of the cell of
the bull to the alguacil or policeman, which he ought to catch in his
feathered hat. The different performers now take their places as
fielders do at a cricket match. The bull-fight is a tragedy in three
acts, lasts about twenty minutes, and each consists of precisely the
same routine. From six to eight bulls are usually killed during each
“funcion”; occasionally another is conceded to popular clamor, which
here will take no denial.

When the door of the cell is opened, the public curiosity to see the
first rush out is intense; and as none knows whether the bull will
behave well or ill, all are anxious to judge of his character from the
way he behaves upon first entering the ring. The animal, turned from his
dark cell into glare and crowd, feels the novelty of his position; but
is happily ignorant of his fate, for die he must, however skillful or
brave his fight. This death does not diminish the sustained interest of
the spectators as the varied chances in the progress of the acts offer
infinite incidents and unexpected combinations. In the first of the
three acts the picadores are the chief performers; three of them are now
drawn up, one behind the other, to the right, at the tablas, the barrier
between the arena and spectators; each sits bolt upright on his
Rosinante, with his lance in rest, and as valiant as Don Quixote. They
wear the broad-brimmed Thessalian hat; their legs are cased with iron
and leather, which gives a heavy look; and the right one, which is
presented to the bull, is the best protected. This greave is termed la
mona--the more scientific name is gregoriana, from the inventor, Don
Gregorio Gallo--just as we say a spencer, from the noble earl. The
spear, garrocha, is defensive rather than offensive; the blade ought not
to exceed one inch; the sheathing is, however, pushed back when the
picador anticipates an awkward customer. When the bull charges, the
picador, holding the lance under his right arm, pushes to the right, and
turns his horse to the left; the bull, if turned, passes on to the next
picador. This is called recibir, to receive the point. If a bull is
turned at the first charge, he seldom comes up well again. A bold bull
is sometimes cold and shy at first, but grows warmer by being punished.
Those who are very active, those who paw the ground, are not much
esteemed; they are hooted by the populace, and execrated as goats,
little calves, cows, which is no compliment to a bull; and, however
unskilled in bucolics, all Spaniards are capital judges of bulls in the
ring. Such animals as show the white feather are loathed, as depriving
the public of their just rights, and are treated with insult, and,
moreover, soundly beaten as they pass near the tablas, by forests of
sticks, la cachiporra. The stick of the elegant majo, when going to the
bull-fight, is sui generis, and is called la chivata; taper, and between
four and five feet long, it terminates in a lump or knob, while the top
is forked, into which the thumb is inserted. This chivata is peeled,
like the rods of Laban, in alternate rings, black and white or red. The
lower classes content themselves with a common shillalah; one with a
knob at the end is preferred, as administering a more impressive whack.
While a slow bull is beaten and abused, a murderous bull, duro chocante
carnicero y pegajoso, who kills horses, upsets men, and clears the
plaza, becomes deservedly a universal favorite; the conquering hero is
hailed with “Viva toro! viva toro! bravo toro!” Long life is wished to
the poor beast by those who know he must be killed in ten minutes.

The horses destined for the plaza are of no value; this renders
Spaniards, who have an eye chiefly to what a thing is worth, indifferent
to their sufferings. If you remark how cruel it is to “let that poor
horse struggle in death’s agonies,” they will say, “Ah que! na vale na”
(“Oh! he is worth nothing”). When his tail quivers in the last
death-struggle, the spasm is remarked as a jest, mira que cola! The
torture of the horse is the blot of the bull-fight: no lover of the
noble beast can witness his sufferings without disgust; the fact of
these animals being worth nothing in a money point of view increases the
danger to the rider; it renders them slow, difficult to manage, and very
unlike those of the ancient combats, when the finest steeds were chosen,
quick as lightning, turning at touch, and escaping the deadly rush: the
eyes of these poor animals, who would not otherwise face the bull, are
bound with a handkerchief like criminals about to be executed; thus they
await blindfold the fatal rip which is to end their life of misery. If
only wounded, the gash is sewed up and stopped with tow, as a leak! and
life is prolonged for new agonies. When the poor brute is dead at last,
his carcass is stripped as in a battle. The high-class Spaniard admits
and regrets the cruelty to the horses, but justifies it as a necessity.
The bull, says he, is a tame, almost a domestic animal, and would never
fight at all unless first roused by the sight of blood. The wretched
horse is employed for this purpose as a corpus vile; and the bull,
having gored him once or twice, becomes “game.”

The picadores are subject to hair-breadth escapes and severe falls: few
have a sound rib left. The bull often tosses horse and rider in one run;
and when the victims fall on the ground, exhausts his rage on his
prostrate enemies, till lured away by the glittering cloaks of the
chulos, who come to the assistance of the fallen picador. These horsemen
often show marvelous skill in managing to place their horses as a
rampart between them and the bull. When these deadly struggles take
place, when life hangs on a thread, the amphitheater is peopled with
heads. Every expression of anxiety, eagerness, fear, horror, and delight
is stamped on speaking countenances. These feelings are wrought up to a
pitch when the horse, maddened with wounds and terror, plunging in the
death-struggle, the crimson streams of blood streaking his
sweat-whitened body, flies from the infuriated bull, still pursuing,
still goring: then is displayed the nerve, presence of mind, and
horsemanship of the undismayed picador. It is, in truth, a piteous sight
to see the poor dying horses treading out their entrails, yet saving
their riders unhurt. The miserable steed, when dead, is dragged out,
leaving a bloody furrow on the sand. The picador, if wounded, is carried
out and forgotten--los muertos y idos, no tienen amigos (the dead and
absent have no friends)--a new combatant fills the gap, the battle
rages, he is not missed, fresh incidents arise, and no time is left for
regret or reflection. The bull bears on his neck a ribbon, la devisa;
this is the trophy which is most acceptable to the querida of a buen
torero. The bull is the hero of the scene, yet, like Milton’s Satan, he
is foredoomed and without reprieve. Nothing can save him from the
certain fate which awaits all, whether brave or cowardly. The poor
creatures sometimes endeavor in vain to escape, and leap over the
barrier (barrera) into the tendido, among the spectators, upsetting
sentinels, water-sellers, etc., and creating a most amusing hubbub. The
bull which shows this craven turn--un tunante cobarde picaro--is not
deemed worthy of a noble death, by the sword. He is baited, pulled down,
and stabbed in the spine. A bull that flinches from death is scouted by
all Spaniards, who neither beg for their own life nor spare that of a

At the signal of the president, and sound of a trumpet, the second act
commences with the chulos. This word chulo signifies, in the Arabic, a
lad, a clown, as at our circus. They are picked young men, who commence
in these parts their tauromachian career. The duty of this light
division is to draw off the bull from the picador when endangered, which
they do with their colored cloaks; their address and agility are
surprising, they skim over the sand like glittering humming-birds,
scarcely touching the earth. They are dressed, á lo majo, in short
breeches, and without gaiters, just like Figaro in the opera of the
“Barbiere de Sevilla.” Their hair is tied into a knot behind, mono, and
inclosed in the once universal silk net, the redecilla--the identical
reticulum--of which so many instances are seen on ancient Etruscan
vases. No bull-fighter ever arrives at the top of his profession without
first excelling as a chulo (apprentice); then he begins to be taught how
to entice the bull, llamar al toro, and to learn his mode of attack,
and how to parry it. The most dangerous moment is when these chulos
venture out into the middle of the plaza, and are followed by the bull
to the barrier, in which there is a small ledge, on which they place
their foot and vault over, and a narrow slit in the boarding, through
which they slip. Their escapes are marvelous; they seem really
sometimes, so close is the run, to be helped over the fence by the
bull’s horns. Occasionally some curious suertes are exhibited by chulos
and expert toreros, which do not strictly belong to the regular drama;
such as the suerte de la capa, where the bull is braved with no other
defense but a cloak; another, the salto tras cuerno, when the performer,
as the bull lowers his head to toss him, places his foot between his
horns and is lifted over him. The chulos, in the second act, are the
sole performers; another exclusive part is to place small barbed darts,
banderillas, which are ornamented with cut paper of different colors, on
each side of the neck of the bull. The banderilleros go right up to him,
holding the arrows at the shaft’s end, and pointing the barbs at the
bull; just when the animal stoops to toss them, they dart them into his
neck and slip aside. The service appears to be more dangerous than it
is, but it requires a quick eye, a light hand and foot. The barbs should
be placed exactly on each side--a pretty pair, a good match--buenos
pares. Sometimes these arrows are provided with crackers, which, by
means of a detonating powder, explode the moment they are affixed in the
neck, banderillas de fuego. The agony of the tortured animal frequently
makes him bound like a kid, to the frantic delight of the people. A very
clever banderillero will sometimes seat himself in a chair, wait for
the bull’s approach, plant the arrows in his neck, and slip away,
leaving the chair to be tossed into the air. This feat is uncommon, and
gains immense applause.

The last trumpet now sounds; the arena is cleared for the third act; the
espada, the executioner, the man of death, stands before his victim
alone, and thus concentrates in himself an interest previously frittered
among the number of combatants. On entering, he addresses the president,
and throws his montera, his cap, to the ground, and swears he will do
his duty. In his right hand he holds a long straight Toledan blade, la
spada; in his left he waves the muleta, the red flag, the engano, the
lure, which ought not (so Romero laid down) to be so large as the
standard of a religious brotherhood (cofradia), nor so small as a lady’s
pocket-handkerchief (panuelito de senorita): it should be about a yard
square. The color is red, because that best irritates the bull and
conceals blood. There is always a spare matador, in case of accidents,
which may happen in the best regulated bull-fights; he is called media
espada, or sobresaliente. The espada (el diestro, the cunning in fence
in olden books) advances to the bull, in order to entice him toward
him--citarlo á la suerte, á la jurisdiccion del engano--to subpœna him,
to get his head into chancery, as our ring would say; he next rapidly
studies his character, plays with him a little, allows him to run once
or twice on the muleta, and then prepares for the coup de grace. There
are several sorts of bulls--levantados, the bold and rushing; parados,
the slow and sly; aplomados, the heavy and leaden. The bold are the
easiest to kill; they rush, shutting their eyes, right on to the lure or
flag. The worst of all are the sly bulls; when they are marrajos,
cunning and not running straight, when they are revueltos, when they
stop in their charge and run at the man instead of the flag, they are
most dangerous. The espada who is long killing his bull, or shows the
white feather, is insulted by the jeers of the impatient populace; he
nevertheless remains cool and collected, in proportion as the spectators
and bull are mad. There are many suertes or ways of killing the bull;
the principal is la suerte de frente--the espada receives the charge on
his sword, lo mato de un recibido. The volapie, or half-volley, is
beautiful, but dangerous; the matador takes him by advancing,
corriendoselo. A firm hand, eye, and nerve form the essence of the art;
the sword enters just between the left shoulder and the blade. In
nothing is the real fancy so fastidious as in the exact nicety of the
placing this death-wound; when the thrust is true--buen estoque--death
is instantaneous, and the bull, vomiting forth blood, drops at the feet
of his conqueror, who, drawing the sword, waves it in triumph over the
fallen foe. It is indeed the triumph of knowledge over brute force; all
that was fire, fury, passion, and life, falls in an instant, still

The team of mules now enter, glittering with flags, and tinkling with
bells, whose gay decorations contrast with the stern cruelty and blood;
the dead bull is carried off at a rapid gallop, which always delights
the populace. The espada wipes the hot blood from his sword, and bows
with admirable sangfroid to the spectators, who throw their hats into
the arena, a compliment which he returns by throwing them back again.

When a bull will not run at all at the picador, or at the muleta, he is
called a toro abanto, and the media luna, the half-moon, is called for;
this is the cruel ancient Oriental mode of houghing the cattle (Joshua
xi. 6). The instrument is the Iberian bident--a sharp steel crescent
placed in a long pole. The cowardly blow is given from behind; and when
the poor beast is crippled, an assistant, the cachetero, pierces the
spinal marrow with his cachete--puntilla, or pointed dagger--with a
traitorous stab from behind. This is the usual method of slaughtering
cattle in Spain. To perform all these operations (el desjarretar) is
considered beneath the dignity of the matadores or espadas; some of
them, however, will kill the bull by plunging the point of their sword
in the vertebræ, el descabellar--the danger gives dignity to the
difficult feat. The identical process obtains in each of the fights that
follow. After a short collapse, a fresh object raises a new desire, and
the fierce sport is renewed through eight repetitions; and not till
darkness covers the heavens do the mob retire to sacrifice the rest of
the night to Bacchus and Venus, with a passing homage to the knife.




Carthaginian Domination in Spain              238 to 200 B.C.
Roman Domination                         200 B.C. to 414 A.D.
Visigothic Domination                    414 A.D. to 711 A.D.

_Visigothic Kings_

Ataulfo         414, D. 417
Sigerico                417
Walia                   420
Teodoredo               451
Turismundo              454
Teodorico               466
Eurico                  483

     This king, after conquering the Suevi and other races, is
     considered he founder of the monarchy.

Alarico              D. 505
Gesaleico               510
Amalarico               531
Teudis                  548
Teudiselo               549
Agila                   554
Atanagildo              567
Liuva I.                572
Leovigildo              586

     After destroying the barbarians that still remained in the country,
     he was the first king who ruled over the whole of the Peninsula.

Recaredo I.             601

     Summoned the 3d Council of Toledo, renounced Arianism, and became
     the first Catholic king of Spain.

Liuva II.               603
Witerico                610
Gundemaro               612
Sisebuto                621
Recaredo II.            621
Suintila                631
Sisenando               635
Tulga                   640
Chindasvinto            650
Recesvinto              672
Wamba                   680
Ervigio                 687
Egica                   701
Witiza                  709
Don Rodrigo             711

     The Moors entered Spain and defeated Don Rodrigo at the battle of
     Guadalete, who disappeared there. The Moors occupied in the two
     following years almost the whole of the Peninsula, and governed
     under the dependence of the Caliphs of Damascus.

_Moorish Rulers in Spain_

Emirs dependent on the
  Caliphs of Damascus             711-715
Independent Caliphate established
  by the Ommeyah
  family, the capital being
  Cordova                        755-1009
Kings of Taifas, governors
  of the provinces which declared
  themselves independent
  during the last
  Caliphate, Hischen II.        1009-1090
The Almoravides from Africa
  established themselves
  in the Moorish territory
  of the Peninsula              1090-1157
The Almohades conquered
  the Almoravides               1157-1212
Kings of Granada. The
  Moorish domination is
  reduced to the kingdom
  of Granada                    1226-1492

     The rule of the Moors in Spain ends in 1492, at the conquest of

_Kings of Asturias, Leon, and Castile_

Pelayo (the re-conquest begins)      718, D. 737
Favila                                       739
Alonso I., el Catolico                       757
Favila I. (fixes his Court at Oviedo)        768
Aurelio                                      774
Silo                                         783
Mauregato                                    788
Bermudo I., el Diacono                       795
Alonso II., el Casto                         843
Ramiro I.                                    850
Ordoño I.                                    865
Alonso III., el Magno                        910

     Divided the kingdom of Galicia, Leon, and Asturias, among his sons,
     the three following kings.

Garcia                                    913
Ordoño II.                                923
Fruela II.                                924

     Ordoño fixed his Court at Leon, and here end the named kings or

Alonso IV., el Monge                      930
Ramiro II.                                950
Ordoño III.                               955
Sancho I., el Craso                       967
Ramiro III.                               982
Bermudo II.                               999
Alonso V., el Noble                      1028
Bermudo III.                             1037

     The territory of Castile, which formed a separate state, governed
     by _Condes_, passed to Dona Sancha and Don Fernando I., who
     entitled themselves Kings of Castile and Leon.

Fernando I. and Dona Sancha              1065
Sancho II., el Fuerte                    1073
Alfonso VI.                              1108
  (Conquered Toledo in 1085.)
Dona Urraca                              1126
Alfonso VII., el Emperador               1157

     At his death the kingdoms of Castile and Leon are divided among the
     six following kings:

Sancho III. (Castilla)                   1158
Fernando II. (Leon)                      1188
Alfonso VIII. (Castilla)                 1214
Alfonso IX. (Leon)                       1230
Enrique I. (Castilla)                    1217

     Dona Berenguela, who abdicated the crown of Castile in favor of her
     son, Fernando III., who inherited also the crown of Leon from his
     father, Alfonso IX.

Fernando III., King of Castile
  and Leon                               1252

     He conquered Cordova, Jaen, and Seville.

Alonso X., el Sabio                      1284
Sancho IV., el Bravo                     1295
Fernando IV., el Emplazado               1312
Alonso XI.                               1350
Pedro I., el Cruel                       1369
Enrique II., el Bastardo                 1379
Juan I.                                  1390
Enrique III., el Doliente                1407
Juan II.                                 1454
Enrique IV., el Impotente                1474
Dona Isabel, la Catolica                 1504
Fernando V. de Aragon                    1516
Dona Juana, la loca                      1555
Felipe I., el Hermoso, first king
  of the house of Austria                1505
Carlos V., Emperador                     1558
Felipe II.                               1598
Felipe III.                              1621
Felipe IV.                               1665
Carlos II.                               1700
Felipe V. (first king of the house
  of Bourbon) abdicated in               1724
Luis I.                                  1724
Felipe V.                                1746
Fernando VI.                             1759
Carlos III.                              1788
Carlos IV., abdicated                    1808
Fernando VII.                            1833
Isabel II., dethroned                    1868
Gobierno Provisional                     1871
Amadeo de Saboya               abdicated 1873
Spanish Republic                         1874
Alfonso XII                         died 1886

_Kings of Navarre._

     The inhabitants of Navarre began the re-conquest from the middle of
     the 8th century. Their rulers were called condes, or kings, until
     Sancho Abarca widened the territory; from that time they are always
     called kings of Navarre.

Sancho Abarca                         980-994
Garcia III.                              1000
Sancho III., el Mayor                    1038
Garcia IV.                               1057
Sancho IV.                               1076
Sancho Ramirez V.                        1092

     This king, and the two that followed, were likewise kings of

Pedro I.                                 1106
Alfonso, el Batallador                   1134
Garcia Ramirez IV.                       1150
Sancho VI., el Sabio                     1194
Sancho VII., el Fuerte                   1234

     Here begin the kings of the House of Champagne.

Teobaldo I.                              1253
Teobaldo II.                             1270
Enrique I.                               1273
Juana I.                                 1304

     On her marriage with Philip le Bel, Navarre passed to the house of

Luis Hutin                               1316
Felipe le Long                           1320
Carlos I. de Navarra, IV.
  de Francia                             1329
Juana II.                                1343
Carlos II. d’Evreux                      1387
Carlos III.                              1425
Dona Blanca y Juan I.                    1479
Francisco Febo                           1483
Catalina                                 1512

     Fernando V. of Navarre took possession in 1512 of Navarre, and it
     was then incorporated with Castile.

_Kings of Aragon._

     Aragon belonged to the kingdom of Navarre until Sancho III. gave it
     to his son Ramiro.

Ramiro I.                1035, D. 1063
Sancho I.                         1094
Pedro I.                          1104
Alfonso I., el Batallador         1134
Ramiro II., el Monge              1137

     Aragon and Cataluña are united.

Petronila                         1162
Alfonso II.                       1196
Pedro II.                         1213
Jaime I., el Conquistador         1276
Pedro III.                        1285

     Sicily is united to Aragon.

Alfonso III.                      1291
Jaime II.                         1327
Alfonso IV.                       1336
Pedro IV.                         1387
Juan I.                           1395
Martin                            1410
Fernando, el de Antequera         1416
Alfonso V.                        1458
Juan II.                          1470
Fernando el Catolico.

     Aragon passes to the crown of Castile.

_Counts of Barcelona._

     In the 8th and 9th centuries Cataluña belonged to Charlemagne and
     his successors. Wilfredo was the first independent Conde.

Wilfredo el Belloso              864-898
Borrell I.                           912
Suniario                             917
Borrell II. and his brother Miron    992
Ramon Borrell                       1018
Ramon Berenguer I.                  1025
Ramon Berenguer II.                 1077
Berenguer and Ramon Berenguer III.  1113
Ramon Berenguer IV.                 1131

     Ramon Berenguer V. married Dona Petronila de Aragon, and this
     kingdom was incorporated with the Condado de Cataluña.


_Contemporary Sovereigns_

The periods have been selected during which leading events in Spanish
history have occurred.

A.D.     Spain.             England.       France.            Rome.
 800   Alonso II. el Casto  Egbert       Charlemagne        Leo III.
 877   Alonso III. el Magno Alfred       Louis II.          John VII.
 996   Ramiro III.          Ethelred II. Hugh Capet         Gregory V.
1075   Sancho II.           William the  Philip I.          Gregory VII.
1155   Alfonso VII.         Henry II.    Louis VII.         { Adrian IV.
                                                            { Breakspeare
1245   San Fernando         Henry III.   St. Louis          Innocent IV.
1345   Alfonso XI.          Edward III.  Philip VI.         Benedict VI.
1360   Pedro el Cruel       Edward III.  John II.           Innocent VI.
1485   Isabel la Catolica   Henry VII.   Charles VIII.      Innocent VIII.
1515   Fernando de Aragon   Henry VIII.  Francis I.         Leo X.
1550   Carlos V.            Edward VI.   Henry II.          Paul III.
1560   Felipe II.           Elizabeth    Charles IX.        Pius IV.
1644   Felipe IV.           Charles I.   Louis XIV.         Innocent X.
1705   Felipe V.            Anne         Louis XIV.         Clement XI.
1760   Carlos III.          George III.  Louis XV.          Clement XIII.
1808   Fernando VII.        George III.  Napoleon I.        Pius VII.
1840   Isabel II.           }            { Louis Philippe   { Gregory XVI.
                            }            { Napoleon III.    { and Pius IX.
1877   Alfonso XII.         } Victoria   French Republic    Leo XIII.
1886   Cristina,            }
         queen-regent       }
1886   Alfonso XIII.        }


[1] “Historia general de España,” by Juan de Mariana. 9 vols.,
Valencia, 1783-96.

[2] _Al Manzor al Allah_: “The Victor of God; or, Victorious by the
Grace of God.”

[3] _Mas Moros mas ganancia_, “The more the Moors, the greater the
booty,” was one of his sayings, and it has passed into a well-known
national proverb.

[4] Having kicked to pieces the splendid furniture and beaten the Papal
chamberlain, he proceeded to threaten to caparison his horse with the
rich hangings of the chapel, if the Pope refused him instant Absolution!

    Si no me absolveis, el Papa,
    Seriaos mal contado
    Que do vuestras ricas ropas
    Cubriré yo mi caballo!
         --Wolf and Hofmann, “Cid Ballads.”

[5] Muley is an Arabic word meaning “my lord.”

[6] Certainly in 1480, possibly not five-and-twenty years later. From
curious criminal proceedings instituted against the Corregidor of
Medina del Campo, we learn that that high judicial authority had not
hesitated to declare that the soul of Isabella had gone direct to hell
for her cruel oppression of her subjects, and that King Ferdinand
was a thief and a robber, and that all the people round Medina and
Valladolid, where the queen was best known, had formed the same
judgment of her. “Arch. Gen. Simancas,” Estado, Legajo i., folio 192;
“Calendar of State Papers” (Spain), Supplement to i. and ii. (1868), p.

[7] From January, 1493, till October, 1497.

[8] Legaspi and Guido Lavezares, under oath, made promises of rewards
to the Lacandola family and a remission of tribute in perpetuity,
but they were not fulfilled. In the following century--year 1660--it
appears that the descendants of the rajah Lacandola still upheld the
Spanish authority, and having become sorely impoverished thereby, the
heir of the family petitioned the governor (Sabiniano Manrique de
Lara) to make good the honor of his first predecessors. Eventually
the Lacandolas were exempted from the payment of tribute and poll tax
forever, as recompense for the filching of their domains.

In 1884, when the fiscal reforms were introduced which abolished the
tribute and established in lieu thereof a document of personal identity
(cedula personal), for which a tax is levied, the last vestige of
privilege disappeared.

Descendants of Lacandola are still to be met with in several villages
near Manila. They do not seem to have materially profited by their
transcendent ancestry--one of them was serving as a waiter in a French
restaurant in the capital in 1885.

[9] Guido de Lavezares deposed a sultan in Borneo, in order to aid
another to the throne, and even asked permission of King Philip II. to
conquer China, which of course was not conceded to him. _Vide_ also the
history of the destruction of the Aztec (Mexican) and Incas (Peruvian)
dynasties by the Spaniards.

[10] According to Juan de la Concepcion, in his “Hist. Gen. de
Philipinas,” Vol I., page 431, Li-ma-hong made his escape by cutting a
canal for his ships to pass through, but this appears highly improbable
under the circumstances.

[11] Other authors assert that only Soliman rebelled.

[12] Bondage in the Philippines was apparently not so necessary for
the interests of the Church as it was in Cuba, where a commission of
friars, appointed soon after the discovery of the island to deliberate
on the policy of partially permitting slavery there, reported “that
the Indians would not labor without compulsion, and that, unless they
labored, they could not be brought into communication with the whites,
nor be converted to Christianity.” Vide W. H. Prescott’s “Hist. of the
Conquest of Mexico.”

[13] “Hist. Gen. de Philipinas,” by Juan de la Concepcion Vol. III.,
Chap. IX., page 365, pub. Manila, 1788.

[14] So tenacious was the opposition brought by the Austin friars both
in Manila and the provinces that the British appear to have regarded
them as their special foes.

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