In 1854 Eliot reviewed the Reverend N. Davis' Evenings in My Tent in The Leader and revealed, in the introduction, the mental image of the Arab that he had constructed from his childhood readings over the years, and which was particularly fascinating and “magical”: Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on "Why Violent Video Games Shouldn't Be Banned"? Get an original essay How little we still know about Africa. In our childhood, his name exercised a mysterious power over our imagination, going back to that terrible "African wizard" of the Arabian Nights... In our more mature years, poetry and romance populated this great stage with suitable actors, - with the tall and generous Arab, dwelling like a patriarch of old, in his goatskin tent; scouring the sands on his matchless horse, yielding only to numbers, incapable of deception or treachery. It must be admitted that either the spell of the African magician still blinds our eyes a little, or these simple and noble children of the desert are strangely degenerate. Modern travellers, he then tells us, paint an image of the Arab that is totally different from that of his childhood and his "more mature years": "particularly cunning, rapacious and cowardly, apparently incapable of truth and sunk in an abject superstition; in fact, as if it displayed all the vices of an oppressed race.” Although Eliot did not clearly decide whether the image of the noble, generous and noble Arab of his “riper years” should be updated in the light of new information provided by modern travellers, he nevertheless admitted that his vices were those of an oppressed race. He chooses, however, not to say anything about the real identity of the oppressor. Ten years later, after this review, Eliot would again encounter these two opposing portraits of the same Arab when he began writing his poem The Spanish Gypsy in 1864. Over time, however, the dual mental image that had been constructed of him somehow materialized in the real, real historical figures of two Muslim Moorish emirs, Boabdil and El Zagal, the former nephew and avowed enemy of the latter, who usurped his uncle's throne and provoked a bloody civil war during the last years before the fall of Granada in 1492. In his depiction of these two royal figures, Eliot drew inspiration from a reliable historical source: Al-Makkari's The History of The Mohammedan Dynasties in Spain. El Zagal's grandson, Mohammed XII (commonly known to Europeans as Boabdil), was the twentieth emir of the Beni Nasr dynasty of Granada and the last emir of the same city whose fall marked the end of the Spanish Reconquista. Boabdil rose up against his father and was first proclaimed in Granada in 1482. In 1483 he was taken prisoner by the Spanish and was replaced by his uncle el Zagal, but was soon restored to freedom and the throne in 1487 after a furious revolt. civil war against his uncle and decisive help from the Spanish. Five years later, he was finally forced – by the same Spanish allies – to surrender and leave Granada in 1492 for the city of Fez, Morocco, where he settled until his death in 1536. In Eliot's The Spanish Gypsy, Boabdil embodies the “ "cowardly Arab", capable of "deceit" and "treachery", and "apparently incapable of truth", as described in his review of Rev. Davis's book: "Not Boabdil the wavering, who usurps / A throne wherein trembles, and licks servilely / The feet of the conquerors” (The Spanish Gypsy 4). Apparently he corresponds to the image of the “noble son[s] of the desert” who is “strangely degenerate”. Boabdil, who led to the eviction of Muslims from al-Andalus2, brought upon him a bitter reproach from mostof the Muslim chroniclers, however Eliot's criticism of this historical figure sounds much harsher and turns, in his own words, to the point of uttering a humiliation when he makes him literally "lick" the feet of the Christian "conquerors" - a expression that serious historians know for their objectivity, such as al-Makkari, has never been used in their historical accounts. Eliot's clear and uncompromising condemnation of the last emir of Granada sees her directly involved, as a writer, in expressing her personal opinions on characters who are in no way fictitious, but all the more real and historical. Indulging, therefore, in conveying non-factual information, through biased language, causes Eliot to prejudice the reader against one of the major Muslim political figures in the history of al-Andalus. During the eight centuries of history of Moorish Spain, and in particular during the last one, when the pressure of the Spanish Reconquista became increasingly stronger, many Muslim emirs made agreements and even formed alliances with Christian kings against each other, but this was obviously part of the political game story. This also applies to el Zagal, Eliot's favorite Muslim royal character in the poem, who surrendered to King Ferdinand and made a political pact with him. El Zagal, Boabdil's uncle and political rival for the throne of Granada, is officially known as Mohammed. XIII, the twenty-first emir of the Beni Nasr dynasty of Granada. He first rebelled against his brother and was proclaimed in Granada in 1483 to be dethroned four years later, in 1487, by his nephew Boabdil. El Zagal retreated to Guadix until 1489 when he surrendered to King Ferdinand who “gave him the investiture” of all his ancient dominions “on condition that he paid him homage for this.” El Zagal then went to war against Boabdil who was assisted by Christian troops. When he saw that the situation was becoming desperate, el Zagal decided, shortly after 1490, to move towards North Africa. Eliot, in fact, respected the letter of el Zagal's exile itinerary reported by al-Makkari: the emir set sail first for Oran, and from there headed to Telemsan (both in present-day Algeria), “where he settled and where his descendants reside.” this day; being well known under the appellation of (the sons of the sultan of Andalus)” (Al-Makkari 386). In The Spanish Gypsy, el Zagal's men are accompanied by Fedalma's band of gypsies to whom the emir had promised “a grant of land / In the kingdom of the Berbers” (201) for their military assistance against the Spanish. El Zagal is portrayed by Eliot in completely opposite terms to his nephew. In contrast to the “trembling,” “faltering” “servant” Boabdil, el Zagal is metaphorically depicted as a “fierce lion”:… but that ferocious lion, the macabre El Zagal, who made his lair in the fort of Guadix, and rushes thence with force, Half his own ferocity, half the untainted heart of the mountain bands fighting for the holidays, Up to this point in The Spanish Gypsy, Eliot clearly shows his preference for the "brave" uncle (180 ). In doing so, he is true to his childhood mental image of “the noble and generous Arab…scouring the sands on his matchless horse, yielding only to numbers, incapable of deception or treachery” that he had described ten years earlier. El Zagal also kept his word, promising his gypsy allies safe exile in North Africa. He honored his written promise to the gypsy leader Zarca and his community, and never deceived them. However, these highly distinctive qualities are also clearly attenuated, if not negatively counterbalanced, by the choice of a different vocabulary which equally reveals Eliot's disapproving criticism of the Muslim Warrior Character.,.