It seems to have been the author's intention to adhere as strictly as possible to historical truth; and, as if in scorn of writing a mere work of fiction, to give the volume a more serious and imposing appearance by means of copious notes and illustrations. It is only from this consideration that we can pardon Martinez de la Rosa for the very long, and at times very tedious and ill chosen details with which his work abounds; and which, far from imparting any additional interest to his novel, serve only to divert the reader's attention and show the immense and unnecessary pains taken to couple history with romance. Who, in fact, can place any confidence in accounts borrowed from Bleda, Pedraza, Hita, and Father Echavarria? Such, however, being the author's especial object, it is incumbent upon us to give an insight of the state and resources of the two powers that contended for the possession of the Peninsula.

The kingdom of Granada, the last which the Moors possessed in Spain, was then on the verge of ruin; weakened by dissension and civil war, the power of the Moorish monarchs had long begun to decline. In 859 of the Hijra (A. D. 1455), Mohammad, son of Ismael, at the head of a considerable force, and aided by John II. of Castile, had defeated Ibn Ozmen, king of Granada, and having succeeded in penetrating into the city, was proclaimed king without opposition. With the exception of two incursions made by the Christians in 1460 and 1461, and in which Archidona and Gibraltar were reduced and the Moorish troops everywhere defeated, the reign of Mohammad Ibn Ismael, which lasted twelve years, was comparatively tranquil. A treaty of peace was signed, by which Ibn Ismael submitted to hold his kingdom as a fief of the crown of Castile; to appear in person or by substitute whenever the Cortes should be convoked by the king, and to pay an annual tribute of the half of his revenue, which is said to have amounted to 85,000 ducats.

After the death of Mohammad Ibn Ismael, which happened in 1466-67, his eldest son, Muley Ali Abu-l-Hasan (improperly called by the Spanish writers, and by M. de la Rosa, Alboacen,) succeeded to the throne. The unhappy events which attended the last years of the reign of Henry IV., the disturbances excited by his brother Alphonso and which terminated unsuccessfully with the battle of Olmedo, and also the subsequent troubles which agitated Castile until the consolidation of the crown on the head of Isabella, gave some respite to the Moorish monarch. However, in 1478, the truce with the Christians having expired, Abu-l-Hasan applied for its renewal; but refused at the same time to assent to the condition of vassalage and tribute formerly required, and to which his ancestors had so basely submitted.

In an interview with the Castilian ambassadors, who urged him to subscribe to the terms accepted by his predecessor, he is said to have used these remarkable words-" Tell your master that the king who paid him tribute is dead, and that now our mint does not coin either gold or silver; but in its stead we forge spears, arrows, and scymitars."

Castile was not at that time in a state to resent this language; weakened by intestine wars, it could not effectually oppose an enemy who, besides his great resources at home, might at any time obtain assistance from Africa; and to whom, in case of discomfiture, the Alpujarras presented in their mountain fastnesses shelter and protection. The Moorish king, conscious of his strength, laughed at the threats of his adversaries and shook off entirely the yoke of obedience. But Abu-l-Hasan, though of a warlike spirit, was unstable in resolution, and daily became more so from the luxurious and voluptuous life he led after his accession to the throne. Instead of regaining, by a speedy campaign in the heart of the Spanish dominions, all those fortresses which the negligence or cowardice of former monarchs had lost from the Mussulman state, Abu-l-Hasan contented himself with remaining on the defensive, much against the advice of his prudent vizirs, and the wish of his allies of the African coast. This induced the sultan of Fez, who knew his want of energy, to send repeated messengers warning him against the Christians and offering his assistance in case of need. One of these messengers, Ibn Faruj, a swarthy African warrior whose whole life had been spent in warfare, arrived at Granada with presents from his master. Introduced into the presence of the king, he said to him "My master sends thee no poisoned robe, like that which was once sent by the sultan of Fez to a former king of Granada but among these rich objects there is one which, in my opinion, is highly superior to all the others," (he pointed to a Damascus scymitar,)" since it is thirsty for blood, and its edge calls for Castilian throats."

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Abu-l-Hasan, however, did not appear to understand the allusion, nor did he feel disposed to break the truce; and Ibn Farūj seeing his irresolution and want of courage, took upon himself to strike a blow on the Christian frontier with the hopes of bringing on a war between the two nations. Walking one day in the gardens of the Generalife, he said to the king, "This smell of lilies and jessamine sickens me, who have defied the rays of the sun and the hurricane of the desert; neither am I a gallant in the zambra, * nor dextrous in the game of the canes; therefore

A kind of Moorish dance,

as I have not yet my master's permission to leave this country, I should wish to pass, if such be thy pleasure, some days on the frontier, where I may be of use to thee and warn thee of peril as the sea-birds announce the approach of the tempest." The king suffered him to depart, and gave him the command of some troops. When Ibn Faruj saw himself near the Christian frontier, he wrote to his master, the sultan of Fez, these mysterious words-"There is fire kindled on a mountain; on the neighbouring one is a wood, and the wind blows between them." A contest which arose between some Moorish and Christian shepherds, and in which blood was spilt, afforded Ibn Faruj an opportunity of carrying his designs into execution; after demanding from the governor of Martos a satisfaction which was refused, the African chief resolved to take the law into his own hands, and the mode in which this was accomplished has already been related.

Returning to the heroine; Isabel passes the first days of her captivity at a place not distant from the frontier, with her Moorish maiden Arlaja, who endeavours by all possible means to assuage her grief. Ibn Faruj never presents himself before his captive, and avoids any thing that might increase her sorrow. At last, after some time, Isabel feels that her melancholy is fast dissipating, and her curiosity is somewhat raised by the accounts which Arlaja gives of her native soil, so that when she receives Ibn Faruj's intimation to prepare for a voyage to Granada, she is all anxiety, and seems to have forgotten her recent misfortunes. Arlaja tells her

"You will not be there as I was in your country, with your feet bound in chains, and a mark of iron on your forehead. Look at me: even now the thought of what I have endured makes my cheek blush with shame and indignation. I was born noble and rich; I was handsome and in the spring of life, and sought by the flower of the Granadian youth. I have nought to complain of the Conde de Cabra, my former master; he treated me with kindness if not with affection, and his memory shall always live in my heart; still less shall I forget the days I passed under your father's roof. But God Almighty is merciful and just, and he repays two-fold the good that is done unto another: besides, the favours granted to the unfortunate Arlaja are not like the seed sown in sand. You shall live in my house, my child, and the name of slave shall never sound in your ears; perhaps good fortune and prosperity await you, for whatever is written must happen.”—p. 65.

The city of Granada opens to the view of the travellers, and Arlaja takes Isabel by the hand, and unable to repress the feelings which that magnificent sight creates in her mind, she bursts into glad exclamations:

"You see I have not deceived you; here we arrive at the land of joy and blessedness; and the merely treading which, drives away all care.

Behold the famous city which, crowning two hills, extends down to the plain to disappear amidst beds of flowers and thickets of odoriferous trees. That lofty range which you see whitening in the distance, is the mountains of the Sun and the Moon;* and well do they deserve their name, for they are as brilliant and white as a block of ivory. Seen from the city, they look as if they could be touched with the hand, but it is very, very far otherwise. They serve as a boundary-wall to the royal city; they supply it with the coolest waters, the most precious minerals, and the finest marbles: they mitigate the heat of summer, and they purify the air even when it comes poisoned by the breeze of death."

The enthusiasm of the Moorish girl, the enchanting landscape, and the liveliness of youth, soon dissipate Isabel's melancholy; and we find her happy in the house of Arlaja, who bestows upon her all her care and affection. In the meanwhile, Ibn Farūj, whose captive Isabel was, in order to strengthen his favour and influence with the king, presents to him his valuable prize: and Abu1-Hasan is so much captivated with her beauty that he decides upon raising her to the throne. Arlaja and Isabel are lodged in the Alhambra; and the latter is by Abu-l-Hasan's directions surrounded with so many luxuries and delights, that she sinks as into a state of enchantment, and soon lends a favourable ear to the passion of the Moorish monarch.

However improbable this part of the tale may appear, for certainly it does seem incredible that a girl educated like Isabel, in the bosom of a family distinguished for their attachment to the Christian religion, by their hatred for the common enemy, and by that high sense of honour which was characteristic of the epoch, should, after a short time, and when the death of her father, husband, and friends, was still recent, yield without a struggle to those seductions, and wed the Moorish monarch, it is, nevertheless, a fact recorded by several writers. The author, who as we have already had occasion to observe, has kept as strictly as possible to the text of the Spanish chronicles, quotes by way of illustration a passage of Pedro de Salazar, in his history of the Gran Cardenal, book i. chap. 21; which mentions the incursion before alluded to and says that the two daughters of the governor of Martos fell into the hands of the Moors and were taken to Granada; where one of them, the eldest, became queen under the Moorish name of Zoraya. The fact is mentioned also by the Arabian writers, and is recorded by Conde, in his history of the Domination of the Arabs in Spain.—(vol. iii. p. 206.)

Another Arabic historian, Almaccari, says that Abu-l-Hasan

*Now called the Sierra Nevada (Snowy Ridge). The Romans named them Oros. peda; the Arabs, Sholair.

had by Zoraya male issue; and that having evinced all his life great predilection for his Christian captive, the good Mussulmans were afraid he would set aside the sons he had by the daughter of his uncle for those of the Christian. He did so; and this afterwards led to the civil war which broke out in Granada and hastened its fall.

As we have already related, Isabel consents to become the king's wife and the day for the ceremony is appointed, but Isabel has within the palace a terrible adversary to contend with. Abu-l-Hasan has another wife, called Aiesha, who, as may be easily imagined, is not much pleased to see her royal spouse bestow his affections upon a Christian slave. She swears revenge, and tries to rid herself of her rival.

"Towards the close of summer, Isabel and Arlaja were wont to take their night walks in one of the most luxuriant gardens which at that time surrounded the Alhambra. On such occasions the beauty and solitude of the spot invited the mind to repose and contemplation; the solemn silence of the night was only interrupted by the murmur of the waters along their pebbly bed, by the sound of the wind rustling amongst the trees, or a distant serenade given by the king for Isabel."—p. 124.

On one of these evenings the fair captive had been listening to a romance sung in her praise. The music had ceased; nature resumed its former stillness, and Isabel remained plunged in a sweet reverie, while Arlaja stood in silence by her side. Of a sudden they are roused by a slight noise from a neighbouring thicket; two gigantic figures dressed in black approach, and without uttering a word, seize them in their arms, and, drowning their cries in a khaik which they throw over their heads, bear them along through a subterranean passage, communicating with a distant part of the town. There the two assassins are on the point of taking away Isabel's life; but at the cries of Arlaja an old man appears, and the villains take flight, not without inflicting several wounds on their victim with their daggers. The king, in the meanwhile, finding that Isabel had left the Alhambra, orders his guards to go in search of her; she is found, and of course not dangerously wounded. Arlaja acquaints the king with all the circumstances of the assault, and Abu-l-Hasan divorces his wife Aiesha and marries Isabel.

By the preceding analysis our readers may have perceived that, as a novel, M. de la Rosa's work possesses no great interest. The incidents are trivial and common-place, and the narrative at times far from animated. We cannot deny him, however, great talents for description; and the lively and truly poetical picture he gives of the city of Granada, happily compared to an earthly paradise; of its Vega, which he assimilates to a field of emerald