History of the Moorish Empire in Europe, Vol. 1 (of 3)

The sceptre of the emirate had, by the choice of Abdallah, been bequeathed to Abd-al-Rahman, his grandson, to the prejudice of his second son, Al-Modhaffer, who stood next in the order of succession. Mohammed, the heir to the throne, accused of treason, had perished in a dungeon, the victim of the jealousy or the justice of his unfeeling father. The circumstances attending this tragedy, as well as the events which provoked it, are alike involved in uncertainty. That the heir apparent should have allied himself with the Christians, have served under the banner of Ibn-Hafsun, the implacable enemy of his race, and have attempted to overturn the very government which it was his duty as well as his interest to support, seems highly improbable. Yet this is what we are led to infer from the obscure statements of such chronicles as condescend to mention, even with meagre details, this episode of the reign of Abdallah. That the deed was not entirely without justification may be presumed from the fact that the latter has not received, on this account, the denunciation of posterity. Reverence for the greatest sovereign of the Western Empire has silenced the voice of criticism, which might otherwise have arraigned the treachery and ingratitude of a father. These motives have combined to invest with an air of mystery an occurrence whose consequences were so momentous in their subsequent influence on the history of the Peninsula.

The character of the young prince was conspicuous for every excellence which could either be inherited or conferred by education. His person was attractive, his manners affable and urbane, his talents conspicuous in a court renowned for its wit, its learning, and its eloquence. His skill in chivalrous exercises evoked the acclamations of the soldiery. His knowledge of affairs, and his capacity to carry to a successful issue the most delicate transactions of diplomacy, had long been the admiration of venerable and distinguished statesmen. The fond partiality of his grandfather, who was constantly haunted by the memory of a crime induced by political necessity, had caused the youthful heir to the throne to be instructed in all the knowledge to be acquired in the most accomplished and enlightened society of Europe. The fortunate object of this solicitude early demonstrated his eminent fitness for the responsibilities of his exalted destiny. A thirst for knowledge, combined with a precocious sedateness of demeanor tempered by a sprightliness, which, while it had nothing in common with frivolity, yet enlivened the discussion of the most serious and prosaic questions of philosophical research, procured for him the love of the scholars of Cordova; whose opinions were respected by even the barbarian nations of Christendom. The general satisfaction with which the accession of Abd-al-Rahman was received demonstrated not only the propriety of the selection but also the great popularity of the prince. Nothing occurred to disturb the public tranquillity. The members of the royal family, who, with color of right and encouraged by precedent, might have disputed the succession, were the first to attest their loyalty to the new sovereign. A feeling of confidence seemed to pervade all ranks of society, as the result of an event which promised the reconciliation of long-existing enmities; the submission of rebellious vassals; the encouragement of commerce; the security of agriculture; the return of that long-banished and most priceless of blessings, domestic peace. With the natural expectation of these benefits were mingled not unreasonable visions of romantic crusade and foreign conquest. The martial spirit of the nation had been perverted rather than discouraged by the incessant religious and political seditions of nearly half a century. There was scarcely a family in which was not included at least one soldier whose scars gave proof of his acquaintance with the perils and accidents of the field of battle. The people were weary of intestine turmoil. The time was most opportune for the exercise of the talents of a ruler whose tact was equal to his courage, and whose magnanimity rose superior to the mean and selfish gratifications of persecution and revenge. A fortunate combination of circumstances prepared the way for the longest and most brilliant reign of the Ommeyade Khalifate. The spirit of rebellion was broken. Repeated reverses and an impolitic apostasy had impaired the prestige and weakened the once invincible following of the great partisan leader, Ibn-Hafsun. The few surviving heads of the Arab aristocracy had lost the greater part of their influence. Weary of strife, their families decimated, their possessions diminished, the tribesmen of the Koreish began to seriously question the expediency of incessant revolution, whose risks and privations offered such a marked and unfavorable contrast to the undisturbed and luxurious enjoyment of Andalusian civilization. The universal diffusion of knowledge, the free discussion of scientific problems, the numerous schools, the acknowledged supremacy of intellectual acquirements over blind and unreasoning credulity, had perceptibly weakened the power of Islam. The imams saw with dismay the portentous increase of skepticism, which threatened alike the emoluments of their office and the foundations of their faith. The congregations were as numerous, the donations as liberal, the prayers to all appearances as fervent as formerly, but the destructive poison of infidelity permeated and was fast corrupting the entire mass of society. The Christians of the North, who had maintained their independence through the dissensions of their neighbors, were now themselves harassed by disastrous revolutions fomented by aspiring princes who, regardless of the danger which constantly menaced their territory, never hesitated to sacrifice the welfare of the nation for the uncertain dignity of royal power. The ancient realm of the Asturias had spread far beyond the limits of the sierras whose craggy solitudes had protected its infancy, and had expanded into the kingdoms of Leon and Navarre, whose petty monarchs wasted in attacks upon each other the energy and the treasure which would have been more profitably employed in thwarting the ambitious designs of the infidel.

The crafty and vacillating policy of Abdallah, who was ignorant of the art of either conciliating or punishing his enemies, and whose crimes excited the abhorrence of his rebellious subjects while they failed to arouse their apprehensions, was repugnant to the open and fearless nature of Abd-al-Rahman. The former had contented himself with the doubtful evidence of vassalage implied by the payment of tribute. But the lofty spirit of his grandson was not to be satisfied with this ambiguous concession to sovereignty. No sooner had he ascended the throne than he issued a proclamation requiring the unconditional submission of his subjects, regardless of previous affiliations of race or religion. To such as properly acknowledged his title he extended his clemency; but those who persisted in defiance of the law and in resistance to the constituted authority, he declared should be removed beyond the pale of indulgence or mercy. This firmness, which, in view of recent events and the power exercised by rebel chieftains, seemed to partake of imprudence, not to say of audacity, soon justified the wisdom and foresight of the prince who adopted it. The large cities, whose population was most affected by the evils of anarchy, were the first to return to their allegiance. Ecija, Jaen, Archidona, and Elvira, whose seditions had long vexed the peace of the empire, were the first places of importance to open their gates to the new sovereign. The provinces of which the cities of Jaen and Elvira were the capitals, dotted with countless strongholds and infested with partisans leagued with Ibn-Hafsun, still, however, refused to abandon their habits of rapine; and Abd-al-Rahman prepared, in person, to reduce to subjection these turbulent vassals, whose habits of independence, confirmed by almost unbroken success, had induced them to regard their arms as invincible. But the bandit chieftains of the Sierra Nevada and the Serrania de Ronda had not taken into consideration the changes which had occurred in the rude society to which they themselves belonged. The strong personality and remarkable achievements of Ibn-Hafsun had hitherto kept united the lawless elements, which, collected from every province of Africa and Spain, had found a secure refuge in the mountains of Andalusia. Now, however, the apostasy of their leader had diminished the confidence and relaxed the enthusiasm of his followers. His summons to arms was unheeded, or obeyed with ill-concealed marks of disaffection. The depleted ranks of his army forced him to the employment of Berber mercenaries, barbarians wholly destitute of attachment to the cause they served, and who were always liable in the crisis of a battle to desert to the enemy under the promise of higher pay. The knowledge that they might, in the future, be enrolled in the ranks of their present adversaries, thus hampered their efforts, and induced them to inflict the least possible damage upon their tribesmen who fought under the standard of the Emir. From furious battles, in which were often exhibited feats of prowess worthy of a more chivalrous age, the conflicts with the brigands of the sierras had become noisy and harmless encounters, without spirit and without bloodshed. A feeling of mutual distrust, which needed little provocation to ripen into acts of open hostility, was engendered between Ibn-Hafsun and his subjects. A growing sense of insecurity had, years before, caused the rebel leader to swear allegiance to Obeydallah, the Schiite prince of Africa. Exasperated by this confession of weakness, the officers of the army were further alienated by the gifts and honors lavished upon the Pagan mercenaries, who had supplanted in the favor of their commander the tried veterans of many campaigns.

For thirty years the Spanish and Berber elements had exhausted every resource in futile attempts to shake off the Arab yoke. No decisive victory had ever attended their arms. The struggle never rose above a merciless guerilla warfare. A large part of the province of Andalusia was depopulated. Peasants were massacred by thousands. Harvests were wantonly destroyed. Whenever a town was surprised or taken by storm, the entire population was butchered. And yet, despite all their efforts, the savage outlaws, who posed as the deliverers of the Peninsula, seemed no nearer the attainment of their professed object than at the beginning. In fact, with all his courage, activity, and address, Ibn-Hafsun was deficient in the qualities indispensable to leaders who aspire to organize revolutions and found great dynasties. His chieftains were often guilty of flagrant insubordination. Some, confiding in the impregnable situation of their castles, even proclaimed their independence. The great body of the peasantry—whose fathers had sympathized with the cause of rebellion and had been plundered and murdered by their nominal protectors—regarded the mountain robbers with unspeakable dread and abhorrence. To them the disadvantages attending the exercise of despotic power were trifling in comparison with the evils by which they were constantly menaced. Similar sentiments had begun of late to be secretly entertained by quite a respectable number of the brigands themselves. The disaffection of the latter was increased by fears of the ultimate restoration of Christianity.

Like all apostates, Ibn-Hafsun hastened to signalize his conversion and confirm his sincerity by conspicuous acts of oppression. Renunciation of Islamism was encouraged by promises of military honors and high employments. Moslem officers of distinguished merit were neglected or regarded with disfavor. To the horror of the disciples of Mohammed, costly churches rose upon the sites of mosques which had existed since the Conquest. The court of Ibn-Hafsun became the resort of ascetics, who from conviction or policy aspired to martyrdom, and openly performed, to the disgust of the orthodox beholder, the revolting severities of monastic discipline. The daughter of the rebel chief herself retired to a cloister, whence she was, years afterwards, dragged forth to pay the penalty of apostasy, a fate eagerly welcomed as the fulfilment of a prophecy pronounced by a vagrant monk. The cause which popular enthusiasm had once invested with a national character, supported by the traditions of Iberian, Roman, and Gothic dominion, and which held out delusive hopes of national independence, had disappeared in the atrocities of the worst of all struggles, a religious war conducted by renegades. Another powerful element, once allied in sympathy with the party of Ibn-Hafsun, was now with unbroken unanimity arrayed against him. The Conquest had brought relief and liberty to many thousands of families that for generations had groaned under the oppressions of slavery and serfdom. The remembrance of their sufferings had been bequeathed to their descendants, and the knowledge that the restoration of the Christian religion would certainly be accompanied with the enactment of laws depriving them of the freedom they enjoyed, confirmed the loyalty of the latter, which had been temporarily shaken by the disorders of the emirate. With feelings of mingled apprehension and gratitude, they compared their present condition with the degradation and miseries of their ancestors, whose most tyrannical masters had been found in the ranks of the ecclesiastical order, now seeking by every art of intrigue the re-establishment of the supremacy of their Church, the recovery of their confiscated lands, and the restoration of their ancient and irresponsible privileges. The bold front presented by the rebel forces was formidable only in appearance. The disintegration of the faction which had more than once threatened the Moslem capital and the throne of the West was complete. It needed but the presence of the sovereign to expose the hopeless condition of an already abandoned cause. Such was the state of society in the disaffected territory of the emirate, and such the character of the adversaries with whom the youthful Abd-al-Rahman was now called upon to contend.

The appearance of the royal standard was the signal for the voluntary surrender of the greater part of the provinces of Jaen and Elvira. The castles which had long been the seat of outlawry and brigandage were razed. As soon as the open country had been secured, Abd-al-Rahman pushed forward without hesitation into the heart of the sierra. At first he met with stubborn opposition, but the capture of the strong town of Finana was followed by the submission of every chieftain whose proximity to the scene of action led him to fear the exemplary vengeance of an exasperated master. In less than three months not a single castle in the Sierra Nevada remained in possession of the insurgents. Instructed by the experience of his predecessors, Abd-al-Rahman adopted the most prudent and effective means for retaining his conquests. The governors and their families were removed to Cordova. The rebel garrisons were replaced by veterans whose fidelity was unquestioned. Pardon was granted to all, excepting such as had rendered themselves undeserving of clemency by the commission of atrocious crimes. The dignity of the crown was further secured by the re-establishment of judicial tribunals and the appointment of magistrates whose reputation and experience were a guaranty of the faithful discharge of their duties. The moral effect of these politic measures, the amiable character of Abd-al-Rahman, and the reputation he enjoyed for justice accomplished as much for the pacification of the hostile territory as the fear inspired by his arms. His first important act after assuming the regal office was the remission of taxes, which, imposed by the necessities or the avarice of his predecessors, weighed heavily upon a distracted and impoverished people. The general amnesty which he had proclaimed; his solicitude for the welfare of his subjects; his firmness in dealing with those who disputed his authority; the spirit he manifested by appearing at the head of his troops, who for years had not seen the face of their sovereign; the physical attributes with which nature had adorned a noble and majestic presence, all conspired to captivate the imagination and inspire the respect of both the civilians and the soldiery. A confidence mingled with enthusiasm and reverence was awakened at his approach, and the useful members of every community, disheartened by years of turmoil and misfortune, welcomed each bloodless and decisive victory of the youthful monarch as an additional harbinger of a peaceful and prosperous reign.

The city of Seville, now governed by the powerful family of the Beni-Hadjadj, while a nominal dependency of the emirate, was, in all respects save this dubious mark of subordination, the seat of an independent principality. The authority of the Emir was not recognized within its walls. The Divan had no voice in the appointment of the officers charged with its government. The levying of troops for service under the royal banners rested entirely upon the caprice or discretion of the Arab princes, who had wrested from an enfeebled dynasty the richest province of the empire. Even the collection of the annual tax was considered a mere act of condescension and courtesy, a privilege liable to be revoked at the pleasure of the haughty tributary. But discord, arising from the ambitious and irreconcilable pretensions of the Arab aristocracy, had invaded the councils of the Beni-Hadjadj. The order of succession had been broken, and, through fortune or by superior abilities, a collateral branch of the Koreishite family which claimed the sovereignty had been elevated to power. The unsuccessful competitor, Mohammed, sought the camp of the Emir, promising his homage in consideration of assistance. The dignity of Abd-al-Rahman not permitting him to countenance the equality of a rebellious subject, the offer was rejected, but the Arab noble was graciously permitted to enlist as a volunteer. A formidable army besieged Seville, and Ibn-Maslama, the ruling prince of the House of Hadjadj, saw with concern his newly acquired dignity menaced with destruction. In his extremity he applied to Ibn-Hafsun. An attempt by the latter to raise the siege resulted in the annihilation of his army, and the insurgent leader, whose name had lost its terrors, fled with a handful of followers to the fortress of Bobastro. Not long after this event, abandoned by his allies and already feeling the pangs of famine, Ibn-Maslama capitulated. Encouraged by his success, with no enemy in his rear and the vast resources of the South at his command, the way was now open to the Emir to carry the war into the Serrania de Ronda, and to retaliate upon Ibn-Hafsun those calamities which he had so long and so ruthlessly inflicted upon the defenceless peasantry of Andalusia. His preparations were made with all the prudence and sagacity of an experienced general. The bulk of the population of the sierra was attached by interest or conviction to the dogmas of the Christian faith, and the natural courage of the mountaineer was animated by assurances of divine aid and a burning desire for martyrdom. From the moment when he penetrated into the defiles that traversed the domain of Ibn-Hafsun, the Emir experienced a determined resistance. His foraging parties were ambushed and cut off. His convoys were intercepted. Having formed the siege of Tolox, where Ibn-Hafsun commanded in person, a sudden sally of the garrison was planned with such boldness and success that a panic seized the army, and a great disaster was narrowly averted. But the genius and perseverance of Abd-al-Rahman eventually triumphed over all obstacles. Tolox was taken. Castle after castle was stormed and demolished. The supplies of the insurgents were exhausted, and they were compelled to have recourse to the granaries of Africa. The foresight of the Emir had, however, anticipated this measure of the enemy. The vigilance of his cruisers blasted the hopes of the famishing rebels, and the captured ships were added to the navy patrolling the Mediterranean, while the provisions were conveyed to the royal camp. In time a considerable extent of mountain territory was conquered; the cities of Orihuela and Niebla, whose alluvial regions boasted an almost perennial harvest, were again added to the dominions of the crown; the tradesmen and the peasantry, alike weary of the contributions levied by relentless brigandage, zealously co-operated with the imperial magistrates in the restoration of order; and Abd-al-Rahman, satisfied with the result of his first campaign and secure against any attempt upon the capital, now began to meditate an expedition into the Christian provinces of the North.

The truce negotiated between Abdallah and Alfonso III. was long preserved by the political necessities which had originally dictated its provisions. The Emir was fully occupied in a desperate attempt to retain his crown amidst the commotions of almost universal rebellion and anarchy. The Christian monarchs were unable to take advantage of the helpless position of their adversary, on account of the plots and crimes of princes of the royal house, the intrigues of the clergy, and the insubordination of ambitious vassals. Alfonso III., compelled by the unnatural cruelty and ingratitude of his sons to anticipate the course of nature by resigning the supreme dignity, had descended into the grave, broken rather by domestic sorrows than by the infirmities of age. His efforts, when forced to an untimely abdication, had been directed with many forebodings of evil to an equitable partition of his dominions. His three eldest sons shared between them the principalities of the royal patrimony. Garcia received Leon, to Ordoño was allotted Galicia, Fruela remained at Oviedo. From this epoch dates the origin of the kingdom of Leon, which, by its proximity to the frontier and its more advantageous situation, soon absorbed and eventually eclipsed the dignity and importance of its rivals. The short reign of Garcia was occupied by a succession of expeditions into the enemy’s country, which seem to have been attended with no decisive results. Dying, after three years, without issue, his brother Ordoño received the votes of the council, and was raised to the vacant throne amidst the acclamations of the people. Thus the State of Galicia was merged into that of Leon, and the two, henceforth existing under the name of the latter, became in time an integral portion of the Spanish monarchy. Ordoño was already renowned for his valor in an age of military heroism and romantic enterprise. His accession was signalized by a foray which laid waste the flourishing province of Merida. Pursuing the savage policy inaugurated by Alfonso, he massacred all taken in arms, and enslaved the non-combatants who were so unfortunate as to fall into his hands. His retreat was purchased by the inhabitants of Badajoz, who, collecting an immense treasure—to which the members of the ecclesiastical order were unwilling but important contributors—induced him to retire. Upon his return to the capital, he devoted a considerable portion of the booty to the foundation of a church, dedicated to the Virgin in acknowledgment of her influence and protection, to which he attributed the auspicious commencement of his reign.

Although the territory which had suffered from the recent incursion of the Christians formed part of that region which still refused to acknowledge his authority, Abd-al-Rahman was not slow to perceive the advantages which must accrue to him from assuming the championship of those who were nominally his enemies. The cause was one of vital importance to all professing the religion of Mohammed. The dignity of the emirate had been insulted by a troop of marauding barbarians, whom the polished Arabs of Cordova with justice considered their inferiors even in feats of martial prowess, and who, if secure of immunity, would not only extend their ravages further, but also contract a profound contempt for the inactive and pusillanimous character of their adversaries. The fickle attachment of the insurgents of the West might be regained, or at least their gratitude aroused, by a demonstration in their favor; and the moral effect upon the enemies as well as upon the partisans of the crown could not fail to be of great and permanent value. An army was equipped and despatched under Ibn-Abi-Abda to lay waste the plains of Leon. For fifteen years the Moslem standards had not been seen on Christian soil, and the swarthy battalions of Abd-al-Rahman, scarcely known except by fame to the subjects of Ordoño, were the source of almost as much terror to the superstitious peasantry as were their ancestors who served under the banner of the redoubtable Tarik. The venture of the Emir was rewarded with abundant booty; the avarice of the soldiery was at once aroused and gratified; and, in the ensuing year, another expedition, organized on a much larger scale, under pretext of avenging the wrongs of the oppressed people of the border, but in reality assembled for purposes of rapine, entered the dominions of the Christian king. Unfortunately for its success, the bulk of the army was composed of Berber mercenaries—adepts in the arts of robbery and murder, but deficient in the constancy and courage requisite for the maintenance of a protracted conflict—and of refugees not inferior in insubordination and poltroonery to their companions in arms. This mob soon proved unequal to sustain the determined assaults of the Leonese cavalry; the Arabs were attacked in their camp before San Estevan, and a fearful defeat, with the loss of his general, announced to the Emir the fatal policy of employing a herd of truculent barbarians, without experience, discipline, or courage, to re-establish the credit and assert the power of the Moslem arms.

The discouraging effects of this reverse were, to some extent, counterbalanced by the intelligence of the death of Ibn-Hafsun, whose operations had harassed, and whose ambition had menaced, the reigns of three Moslem sovereigns. With the disappearance of their most implacable enemy, the inhabitants of Andalusia flattered themselves that they could hereafter pursue their avocations unmolested and enjoy the results of their industry, hitherto subject to the extortions and depredations of unrestricted brigandage. But the fallacy of these hopes was soon demonstrated. The sons of the renowned partisan leader, Giafar, Abd-al-Rahman, Suleyman, and Hafs, who inherited all his audacity and no small share of his military genius, sustained for ten years longer the unequal and hopeless struggle. The wretched peasantry were again compelled to acknowledge the weakness of the government and the uncertain tenure by which they held their property and their lives. Gradually, however, the resources of the emirate, directed by a firm and skilful hand, began to prevail in the Serrania. Three of the sons of Ibn-Hafsun were removed by voluntary retirement, by death in battle, by murder provoked by a double apostasy. The survivor Hafs, reduced to extremity by the siege of Bobastro, submitted, and, having become a loyal subject, served afterwards with distinction in the imperial army. The fanatics who followed in the train of the Emir, actuated by all the malignity of their kind, caused the tombs of Ibn-Hafsun and Giafar to be opened; and Abd-al-Rahman, having learned that the bodies had been interred according to the customs of the infidel, ordered them to be nailed to stakes before the principal gate of Cordova. The surrender of Bobastro was soon followed by the submission of the entire Serrania. In the mean time, the insurgent chieftains of the mountains of Priego, of Alicante, and other cities of the opulent provinces of Tadmir, Merida, Santarem, Beja, and finally of Badajoz, made humble professions of fealty and obedience to the conqueror.

The rebel territory, which, not many years before, had extended almost to the walls of the capital, was now limited to the narrow area inclosed by the fortifications of Toledo. Anxious to avoid bloodshed, the Emir attempted to open negotiations for the surrender of the city without resorting to force. But his overtures were rejected; the Toledans, whose natural inclination to turbulence had been encouraged by long impunity, and whose taste for a lawless independence had been strengthened by its enjoyment, dismissed the royal envoys with haughty disdain. Abd-al-Rahman at once proceeded to invest the city. The suburbs were devastated. All supplies were intercepted by a close blockade. The sallies of the besieged were repulsed at every point. Their last hope vanished with the defeat of a Christian army sent by the King of Leon to assist them, and the distressed city, after an obstinate resistance lasting two years, capitulated.

The fierce and bloody struggle which had decimated communities, destroyed the accumulations of industry, and retarded national progress for nearly half a century was finally at an end. From the confines of the County of Barcelona to the shores of the Atlantic, from the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean, the authority of Abd-al-Rahman was now acknowledged as supreme. The danger of successful rebellion had disappeared with the name and fortunes of Ibn-Hafsun. Since the time of Sertorius, no leader had so ably defended the cause of the Spanish people. The effect of the protracted contest in which the latter had participated had been to raise them from the position of outcasts to an equality with their ancient oppressors. The brigand chief of the sierras had been, in a measure, the peculiar champion of their rights. Though long a Moslem, his following had consisted largely of Christians, and he had finally been received into their communion. His sagacity and generous confidence had entrusted them with important civil offices, with the conduct of delicate negotiations, with embassies to Africa, with the command of armies. Experience in warfare had brought with it the civilizing influences which develop, even in the midst of destruction, increased intelligence, a more tolerant spirit, a higher sense of personal dignity and honor. Accustomed from the earliest times to an arbitrary government, while nominally fighting for liberty, they yet saw nothing repugnant in the despotism of the emirate. But it was different with the Koreishite nobles, whose arrogant pretensions had provoked and precipitated the long series of calamities now happily terminated. The licentious freedom of the Desert was their ideal, the salutary restraints of authority their aversion. The haughty pride engendered and transmitted through countless generations of chieftains in whose veins coursed the purest blood of Arabia, and whose achievements were recounted in the passionate strains of famous poets, induced them to regard with ineffable disdain, and to subject to every indignity, all who were not members of their exclusive caste. The day of these insolent lords was now over. Of all the parties whose quarrels had distracted society theirs had fared the worst. Never strong in numbers, their ranks had been thinned by the ordinary casualties of war; by the evils inseparable from poverty; by summary executions for treason. Their power had been so effectually destroyed that they appear no more as a disturbing element in the annals of the Peninsula. Submitting, although with reluctance, to the force of necessity, they by degrees contracted alliances with the faction once the object of their scorn, and lent their unwilling aid to the noble project of Abd-al-Rahman, which aimed at a complete fusion of races and the obliteration of hereditary feuds and ancient prejudices. The last important constituent of the population, the Berbers, preserved, under apparent conformity to custom, their character of mercenary and idolatrous barbarians, who, not amenable to the benefits of peace, were destined erelong to demonstrate the suicidal policy which had introduced such perfidious allies into the heart of the empire.

The pacification of the dominions of Abd-al-Rahman had not been perfected a moment too soon. An enemy more dangerous than any that had yet menaced the throne of the Ommeyades had appeared on the coast of Africa. The Ismailians, a branch of the Schiite sect reformed by a shrewd and ambitious charlatan in Persia, had, through its missionaries, supplanted the dynasty of the Aghlabites, and now ruled, with a splendor heretofore unknown in that country, the opulent and fertile strip of territory extending from Mauritania to Egypt. The same motives, the same aspirations to supreme power disguised under professions of religious reformation which had prevailed in Spain, inspired the leaders of this moral and political revolution. The tyranny and pride of the Arab nobles had caused the formation of secret societies, organized ostensibly for the purification of the faith and the benefit of the oppressed, but in reality to further the treasonable designs of able and daring conspirators. The hypocrisy of the latter, who in secret scoffed at all religion, may be gathered from the following saying current among them: “Prophets are nothing but impostors, whose real object is to obtain pre-eminence over other men.”

The Fatimite dynasty in Africa had risen to power with a rapidity astonishing even to an age accustomed to the ever-varying phenomena of Moslem revolution. Its head, Obeydallah, who traced a fictitious descent from Ali, son-in-law of the Prophet, assumed the sacred name and character of Madhi,—the inspired and holy personage whose coming had been announced by Mohammed. The cruelties perpetrated by the Fatimites upon their enemies are incredible. No torture was too severe, no persecution too sanguinary, for those who dared to resist their demands. The world stood aghast at the horrors of the African conquest. The prestige derived from a pretended origin gave the fanatics encouragement to assert the Schiite pretensions to infallibility, and, by the right of inheritance, to claim the dominion of the world. They were thoroughly familiar with the politics, intrigues, and military resources of the Peninsula. Their spies were to be found in every walk of life. Merchants, travellers, soldiers, dervishes—many of them men of great intelligence and observation—were in their pay, and regularly transmitted reports of the condition of trade, the location of treasure, the prospect of order, or the progress of revolution to their employers at Kairoan. The famous geographer, Ibn-Haukal, was one of these Fatimite emissaries, and his work contains many of the results of his experience which are not complimentary to the general condition of Mohammedan Spain, the capacity of its rulers, or the humanity of his own intolerant sect. There is reason to believe that a considerable party favorable to the reformers, and consisting largely of the better classes, existed in that country; and it is certain that the Berbers, whose sympathies were readily enlisted in favor of everything African, would have deserted by thousands to serve under their banners. This alarming state of affairs had been promoted by an obscure prediction sedulously propagated by the agents of the Fatimites, which announced that an African sovereign was one day to rule over the Peninsula, and all who believed it confidently asserted that the time of its realization was at hand.

Fully cognizant of the dangers attending the victorious progress of the Ismailians, who were now engaged in the conquest of Mauritania, Abd-al-Rahman heard with joy the appeal for assistance of the exiled princes of Necour, whose family for more than a century had been connected with his own by the closest ties of affection and gratitude. The distinguished refugees who had with difficulty escaped the vengeance of the tyrant of Kairoan were furnished with ships and munitions of war, and, by the policy of their benefactor, soon regained possession of their lost inheritance. Aware of the impossibility of permanently holding an isolated province against the overwhelming forces of the enemy, the Prince of Necour at once proclaimed the authority of the Ommeyades throughout his dominions; and the prudent generosity of Abd-al-Rahman was rewarded by the addition of a new state—which embraced the larger part of Mauritania—to the already extensive territory of his empire. Thus, by the interposition of a tributary province between the frontiers of Eastern Africa and Spain, the destructive advance of the Fatimites was stayed, and the permanence of the Ommeyade dynasty assured for two centuries longer.

The dangerous ambition of the African fanatics having been checked, Abd-al-Rahman was at liberty to turn his attention to the only foe who now dared to make war upon him,—the Christians of the North. A great victory was won by the minister Bedr at Mutonia; and the Leonese, thoroughly humiliated and convinced of the mutability of fortune, retired sullenly within the walls of their castles. Impatient of the monotonous life of his capital and ambitious of military distinction, Abd-al-Rahman now resumed command in person, and, entering the enemy’s country, left in his wake the dreary evidence of rapine and desolation. Osma, Clunia, and San Estevan—over whose gate the head of the unfortunate general, Ibn-Abi-Abda, had been nailed—were stormed and destroyed. Navarre was invaded; its king, Sancho, beaten in a pitched battle and driven into the forests of the Pyrenees. The latter then effected a junction with Ordoño, and the two monarchs offered battle in the Valley of Junquera. Accustomed to ambuscade and to the protection of their native rocks and defiles, the mountaineers proved no match for the Moorish horsemen in the field. A more signal catastrophe than that of Junquera had never afflicted the Christian cause. The slaughter was appalling. The country for leagues was strewn with the bodies of the slain. A great number of prisoners fell into the hands of the Moslems, not the least important of whom were the militant bishops, Dulcidius of Salamanca, and Hermogius of Tuy, who, following a custom ante-dating the Battle of the Guadalete, were taken, sheathed in armor, and fighting bravely in the front of battle.

After this victory, no serious resistance was offered to the Moslem advance. The light Moorish cavalry swept like a hurricane along the frontier of Navarre. The comparative poverty of the inhabitants presented few attractions to the invaders, who were forced to content themselves with flocks and the produce of the fields instead of the more tempting booty offered by the opulence and luxury of more civilized nations. The accumulation of provisions was so great in the Arab camp that they could not be removed, and a vast quantity of wheat was given to the flames to prevent it from falling into the hands of the enemy. This campaign was characterized by all the ruthless barbarity of the time. The women and children of the mountaineers were enslaved. The unsuccessful resistance of a garrison was followed by its extermination. The savage instincts of the Berbers were indulged by tortures and all the arts of the most exquisite cruelty. Whenever these barbarians encountered a monastery not one of the holy fathers was left alive. There was now visited upon the Christians a severe retaliation for the unspeakable horrors which they had been in the habit of inflicting upon their infidel adversaries in the name of the Gospel of Peace.

It is a striking peculiarity of the warfare so long waged between Moslem and Christian in Spain that disasters of the greatest apparent severity, no matter by whom endured, were productive of no substantial advantage to the conqueror. Many causes conspired to produce this anomalous result. The immense resources of the emirs were insufficient to protect their extended frontier. The numerous castles erected by the Kings of Leon and the Counts of Castile to retard the advance of the Arab squadrons failed to intimidate the bold riders of Andalusia. Thus the armies of either nation penetrated with trifling difficulty into the heart of the other’s dominions. The extraordinary recuperative power of the Christians was manifested during the following year by an expedition of Ordoño, which carried the standard of Leon to a point but one day’s journey from Cordova. Other evidences of the indomitable character of his enemies—who continued to capture his towns and carry off his subjects—having impressed Abd-al-Rahman with the necessity for future reprisals, he entered Navarre with an irresistible force. Pampeluna was taken, and its cathedral and many of its houses destroyed. The attacks of the King of Navarre, whose efforts were restricted to the feeble devices of guerilla warfare, were invariably repulsed. The death of Ordoño, and the quarrels resulting from a disputed succession which followed that event, paralyzed for a time the efforts of the Christians, and enabled Abd-al-Rahman to take an important and long meditated step for the increase of his greatness and the consolidation of his power.

It had hitherto been a legal maxim promulgated by the jurists, and unanimously recognized by the potentates, of the Moslem world that the title of Khalif, or Successor of the Prophet, was the peculiar attribute of that monarch whose dominions included the cities of Medina and Mecca. The control of the territory of the Hedjaz was thus considered to carry with it a degree of distinction and sanctity corresponding to that now conferred upon the successors of St. Peter by the choice of the conclave and the ceremonies of investiture which attend the accession of the spiritual sovereigns of Rome. The princes of the Abbaside dynasty had preserved their title, even after they had been deprived of the greater part of their empire; but now, descended to a state of tutelage to powerful vassals, and restricted in jurisdiction to the walls of their capital, they appeared to all true believers unworthy of an appellation which implied so much responsibility and had been the incentive to so much renown. Considerations of respect for ancestral greatness, the claims of religious prejudice and established custom, so revered by the Oriental, no longer existing in their former intensity, the Ommeyade Sultan did not hesitate to appropriate, in the character of the most opulent and distinguished of Moslem rulers, a title that had been virtually abandoned by a dynasty whose degenerate princes had demonstrated their incapacity to defend it, or even to appreciate the proud and holy distinction which its possession implied. Conscious of his merits, and believing that the past achievements of his reign had earned for him an honor which the imbecility and dependence of the monarchs of Bagdad had forfeited, Abd-al-Rahman issued an edict in which he assumed the titles of Amir-al-Mumenin, Commander of Believers, and Al-Nassir-al-Din-Allah, Defender of the Faith.

For three years the disorders which agitated the kingdom of Leon suspended hostilities between the Christians of the North and the khalifate. After many months of anarchy, defiled by horrible crimes,—crimes which recall the worst scenes that disgraced the revolutions of the Visigothic empire, assassinations, tortures, the blinding of some royal captives, the poisoning and starvation of others,—Ramiro II., a prince of great address and experience, ascended the throne. Through his intrigues with the governor of Saragossa, of the powerful family of the Beni-Haschim, he obtained the support, and at length received the allegiance, of the latter. Garcia, King of Navarre, was also induced to join the confederacy, which, thus including all the provinces of the North, both Christian and Moslem, offered an unbroken and formidable front to the power of the Khalif.

Once more the intrepid Abd-al-Rahman prepared for war. The issue of the campaign was everywhere favorable to his arms. Ramiro was worsted in a series of battles. Mohammed, the insurgent chief of the Beni-Haschim, was besieged in his capital, and either the fears or the clemency of his sovereign restored to him the trust he had so flagrantly betrayed. The monarch of Navarre and his mother, whose ambition had taken advantage of the youth and inexperience of her son, were compelled to sue for pardon at the feet of the Khalif, and to receive from his hands, as suzerain, the government of those states which had formerly been transmitted by Sancho the Great as an independent kingdom.

Elated beyond measure by his triumphs, Abd-al-Rahman conceived the idea of a grand expedition that might conquer the infidel states of the North and exterminate, or expel forever, those obstinate and dangerous enemies whose enterprise was a constant reproach to the zeal of the Mohammedans and a menace to the prosperity and safety of the khalifate. In accordance with this resolution the Djihad was proclaimed. A hundred thousand men rushed to arms. Volunteers came from Egypt, Syria, Mauritania, and the Libyan Desert to be present at the humiliation of the infidel, and to share in the plunder of his fields, his churches, his palaces. Great magazines of provisions and munitions of war were collected in suitable localities. Pack-trains composed of thousands of beasts of burden were assembled. No precaution was neglected to insure success. Surrounded by his splendid body-guard, the Khalif appeared in person at the head of this immense host, but, with a want of tact which did little credit to his knowledge of human nature, he bestowed the command upon Nadja, a Slave, to the exclusion of the nobles, who saw with inexpressible indignation their hereditary pretensions to command subordinated to the favor enjoyed by an officer of inferior rank and of more than plebeian extraction. The Moslems came upon the allied army of Leon and Navarre at the village of Alhandega, not far from Salamanca. Undaunted by the superior numbers of the enemy the Christians bravely sustained the attack. The treachery of the Arab officers, invested with important commands, aided the intrepidity of the Leonese; the aristocratic chieftains, preferring the gratification of their resentment and defeat at the hands of the infidel to victory under a general of base and ignoble lineage, withdrew, and the Moslems underwent a terrible defeat. The commander-in-chief was killed. Whole divisions were destroyed; many distinguished soldiers were dragged away to the dungeons of Leon and Pampeluna; and the Khalif himself, with only forty-nine survivors of his numerous escort, succeeded with the greatest difficulty in escaping the swords of the Christian cavalry. The imminent peril he had incurred, the sudden disappearance of his magnificent army, and, perhaps, the consciousness of the impolicy of his conduct or fear that fortune had averted her face from him, so affected Abd-al-Rahman that he never again exposed his person in the field of battle.

But the results of a victory which promised to be so advantageous to the cause of Christendom was, as usual, nullified by the personal quarrels and revolutionary proceedings of the conquerors. The County of Castile, a dependency of the Asturian crown, grown powerful through the signal abilities and eminent services of its present ruler, Ferdinand Gonzalez, a personage famous in mediæval history and fable, aspired to the name and privileges of an independent kingdom. Its governor was a vassal whose fief was hereditary, but who held his office at the pleasure of the monarch, and, so far as the scanty annals of the age afford information, no province of the Peninsula was more inclined to turbulence and sedition. To distract the attention and divert the aims of this dangerous population, the Kings of Leon subdivided the province into four portions; but the counts who subsequently ruled it found no difficulty in reconciling their pretensions when resistance to the central authority was involved. A new plan was then devised by Ordoño II. The four counts were decoyed, upon a specious pretext, to a conference at Tejiare, on the borders of Castile and Leon, and put to death. The county now remained without a recognized leader until the rise of Ferdinand, whom the admiring gratitude of the Spaniards has exalted to the station of a demigod, and to whose prowess is to be justly attributed the foundation of the famous monarchy of Castile.

The claims of Ferdinand Gonzalez to the affection and confidence of his people had been established by many gallant deeds in war and by noble acts of private munificence in peace. In the numerous campaigns of Ramiro II. his voice had always been heard in the thickest of the fray. The spoil he collected from the enemies of Christ he bestowed in the erection of religious houses, in whose charters the name of the founder’s suzerain was ostentatiously omitted. His influence was so great that the sovereign was forced to overlook these insults to his dignity, and to even seek to gain the support or secure the neutrality of his formidable vassal by the marriage of his own daughter to the son of Ferdinand. The attention of the count had been, of late, engrossed by the expeditions of the Moslems which ravaged his territory, but the rout of Alhandega gave him an advantage; and, formally revoking his allegiance, he declared war against the King of Leon. Ramiro, however, soon proved too strong for his rebellious vassal. Ferdinand was thrown into prison, his estates were confiscated, and the government of his dominions transferred to a stranger. But neither the promises nor the threats of the sovereign could shake the fidelity of the Castilians. In public acts and proclamations they defiantly effaced the name of Ramiro and inserted that of Ferdinand. Their devotion carried them to the verge of idolatry. They made a statue, arrayed in the habiliments of the illustrious exile, and, on bended knee, proffered to the senseless marble their unfaltering and reverent homage. Finally, their enthusiasm impelled them to march in a great body to the capital and demand the release of their lord, a request which the King of Leon saw proper to grant, but only under conditions that deprived the Count of Castile of much of his political influence and power.

The death of Ramiro was the signal for a bitter contest between his sons, Ordoño and Sancho, for the possession of the throne of Leon. The assistance of Ferdinand Gonzalez was invoked by the younger son Sancho, and the Count of Castile, perceiving the advantages that he would enjoy in the rôle of king-maker and which must eventually lead to his entire independence, seized without hesitation the golden opportunity. A bloody civil war ensued, in which Navarre also became involved, and hatred of the infidel was forgotten in the furious encounters of domestic strife. In the meantime, the armies of Abd-al-Rahman ravaged at will the Christian frontier. Raid followed raid with the assurance derived from constant impunity. The market-places of the Andalusian cities were heaped up with the significant trophies of victory,—crosses and crucifixes, embroidered vestments and jewelled censers, side by side with ghastly pyramids of heads, the number of the latter in one instance reaching five thousand. Distracted by the double peril of Castilian revolt and Moslem invasion, Ordoño III. sent ambassadors to Cordova to solicit peace. A treaty was drawn up by which the Leonese King agreed to surrender a number of the castles which protected the frontier; but before this condition could be fulfilled Ordoño died, and his brother Sancho, who succeeded him, peremptorily refused to execute the treaty. Hostilities were thereupon renewed; an Arab force invaded Leon; and a decisive victory gained by the general of the Khalif, Abu-Ibn-Yila, taught the imprudent Sancho the folly of resisting, without adequate resources and preparation, the growing power of the Moorish sovereign.

Sancho appears to have been a prince of ability and resolution, but his ideas of the royal prerogative were too decided for his age. Ambitious to enjoy the arbitrary rights which had been conferred by the ancient Visigothic system, he bent all his efforts to the suppression of the aristocracy, and, what was more dangerous still, neglected to conciliate the ecclesiastical order, whose wealth, and the veneration with which it was regarded, would have made it a dangerous antagonist for any monarch. The experiment, always a hazardous one, was doubly so in the case of Sancho, to whom fortune had denied those personal characteristics which elicit the applause or captivate the attention of mankind. An excessive and increasing obesity rendered him incapable of locomotion without assistance, and he had long since found it impossible to mount a horse. Among an active and athletic people whose trade was war, whose pastimes were found in the chase and the field, and with whom all martial exercises were at once a pleasure and a necessity, the spectacle of a helpless monarch, like Sancho the Fat, was one calculated to excite only sentiments of the deepest contempt. But when to this physical disadvantage were added an arrogant and despotic bearing and an ill-concealed intention to retrench the privileges of the nobility, whose members considered themselves, by reason of the theoretically elective character of the crown, almost equal in dignity, as many of them were superior in prowess, to the princes of the reigning house, the disdain of the subjects of Sancho was changed into apprehension lest the unwieldy monarch who excited their ridicule might ultimately develop into a merciless tyrant. A plot, to which Ferdinand Gonzalez, the professional agitator of the time, was a party, was formed; Sancho was compelled to take refuge in Navarre; and Ordoño IV., a hunchback, whose base and servile nature corresponded with the deformity of his person, was raised to the Leonese throne. Received with every demonstration of sympathy by his grandmother, the martial Tota,—the virtual ruler of Navarre who, for thirty years, had tried with various success the fortune of war with the emirs of Cordova,—Sancho experienced little difficulty in obtaining the promise of her aid in the recovery of his crown. But Navarre, a mountainous and thinly peopled region, was now exhausted by continued hostilities, and, indeed, had never been strong enough to cope unaided with the more extensive kingdom of Leon. An alliance with some foreign power was therefore an indispensable requisite for the successful prosecution of the design. In the formation of this alliance no choice was possible. One monarch alone, the Ommeyade Khalif, whose resources were sufficient to accomplish the desired end, could be approached, and that monarch was separated from the Navarrese queen by the remembrance of all the outrages of incessant warfare, of the enslavement and decapitation of thousands of her subjects, as well as by the barrier of a hostile faith, whose ill-comprehended and purposely distorted tenets were the abomination of every Christian. Other considerations rendered the present concession to the demands of a detested adversary even more galling. The warlike princess had commanded the Navarrese at the rout of Alhandega. She had seen the pride of the Ommeyades abased. She had trailed their banner in the dust. Multitudes of captives and incalculable spoil had attested the prowess of her subjects. The greatest of the Moslem sovereigns had fled before her arms. The emergency, however, admitted of no alternative, and demanded the sacrifice of pride and the oblivion of past injuries, which, in the eyes of Tota, were eclipsed by the present outrage upon her family. Another motive impelled her to have recourse to Abd-al-Rahman. The infirmity of Sancho was certainly not constitutional, and perhaps was not incurable. The reputation of the Jewish and Arab physicians for learning and skill was unequalled in the world, and the most eminent practitioners of that calling were residents of Cordova. It was evident from the experience of Sancho that the recovery of his health was an indispensable condition of his restoration to power. Sacrificing her prejudices to imperative necessity, and with a reluctance she could ill conceal, Tota despatched a formal embassy to the capital of the khalifate.

Abd-al-Rahman received the envoys of the Queen of Navarre with distinguished courtesy, and directed them to announce to their royal mistress that he would at once send an ambassador to her court, who would prescribe the conditions under which he would accede to her requests.

The Jew Hasdai was the agent designated by the Khalif to discharge the duties incident to this important mission. One of the most adroit and experienced negotiators of the time, the versatile genius of Hasdai had enabled him to attain to almost as exalted a rank in the profession of medicine as he had reached in the arts of diplomacy. He was further qualified for the post by his enjoyment of the confidence of his sovereign; by his thorough acquaintance with foreign tongues, including the idiom of the Christians; and by his vast erudition and elegant manners, which fascinated all with whom he came in contact. The occasion was one that required an emissary of more than ordinary ability. The instructions of Hasdai included a demand for the cession of ten fortresses in the territory of Leon, to be made as soon as the usurper had been expelled; and that Sancho himself, his uncle Garcia,—the nominal King of Navarre, in whose name Tota exercised the royal authority,—and the Queen should come in person to Cordova and sign the treaty. While no material objection was interposed to the first condition, in the discussion of the second it required all the address of Hasdai to overcome the repugnance of Tota to the humiliation that such a step implied. Finally, however, the eloquence and craft of the envoy prevailed, and, attended by a numerous company of ecclesiastics and nobles, the three Christian monarchs began their tedious journey. Their passage through the Moslem dominions was attended with every manifestation of public curiosity that such an extraordinary circumstance could excite. Immense crowds lined the highways. Cities and villages were emptied of their population, whose dense masses often seriously interfered with the progress of the escort. The arrival of the sovereigns at Cordova was signalized by a magnificent reception, more appropriate to victorious allies than to petitioners for the recovery of a throne. But the tact of the Khalif led him to disguise, as far as possible, the humiliating character he had compelled his guests to assume; and his dignity was at the same time enhanced by the exhibition of that opulence and grandeur which the occasion enabled him to display. The treaty was duly signed, and it was concerted between the parties that the power of the khalifate should be directed against Leon, while the forces of Navarre made simultaneously a diversion towards Castile, to prevent the co-operation of Count Ferdinand with the enemy.

No event of his long and brilliant reign did more to increase the prestige and strengthen the authority of the famous Moslem ruler than this stroke of profound policy. The enthusiasm of the people was unbounded. The feuds of centuries were, for the moment, forgotten in the indulgence of the feelings of national pride and exultation. The Jewish and Moslem poets contended with each other in celebrating a triumph without parallel in the annals of Islam, and lauded the fortune and the glory of a prince whose achievements had humbled the pride of the common enemy of their respective sects.

Meanwhile, the medical skill of the accomplished Hasdai had perceptibly reduced the enormous bulk which had virtually cost the unfortunate Sancho his crown, and, by the time the Moslem army was ready to march, he had fully recovered his former lightness and activity. The campaign was of short duration. City after city was taken; the entire kingdom renounced the usurper, and Ordoño was driven into the Asturias. The expedition of the Navarrese was attended with equal success. Ferdinand’s army was beaten, and he himself taken prisoner. The mountaineers now refused to shelter any longer a dethroned monarch whose personal character rendered him unworthy of their sympathy, and Ordoño was compelled to flee into Castile.

This decisive campaign was the last of the warlike enterprises of the great Abd-al-Rahman. An imprudent exposure brought on an attack of pulmonary disease, which defied the skill of the ablest physicians, and, after an illness of several months, the most renowned sovereign who had occupied the Ommeyade throne of the West expired at the age of seventy years.

His reign lacked but a few weeks of reaching the extraordinary length of half a century. His deeds, however well authenticated, seem almost to pass the bounds of human credulity. When he received the sceptre, the regal authority was scarcely recognized within the narrow circuit of the walls of the capital. When that sceptre fell from his palsied grasp, the haughty descendants of the Visigoths, the champions of the Christian faith, the hitherto invincible mountaineers whose pride and bigotry exceeded even their valor, were his devoted vassals and tributaries. The most formidable rebellion that had ever afflicted the Peninsula—a rebellion of thirty years’ standing—was crushed. The physical traces of that long and disastrous struggle were removed; the hatred which sprang from it, more implacable than even the aversion of sect to sect, was allayed. A foreign invasion which threatened not only the destruction of his race, but the extirpation of all knowledge and all civilization, was checked, and a long respite given to the cause of science and the avocations of peace. His predecessor bequeathed to him an uncertain revenue drawn from a precarious tribute; his own genius, besides providing for the enormous expenses of government, for the construction of great public improvements, and for the demands of a luxury without precedent in its extravagance, was still enabled to leave in the public treasury a sum equal to a hundred million dollars.

A powerful navy assured the safety of the coast from foreign attack, and permitted the development of a commerce whose agents had already established themselves in every province of Europe, Africa, and Asia. As a result of this extensive trade, the bazaars of the Andalusian cities abounded with objects of luxury, whose existence had hitherto been unsuspected by the isolated population of the Peninsula. The effects of this intimate and constant intercourse with many nations were, moreover, disclosed by a marked refinement of manners, by an increased degree of mental activity, by a high appreciation of the benefits conferred by the possession of learning, and by the emancipation of the human mind from those theological prejudices which, in every age, have been at once the cause and the evidence of a condition of abject intellectual servitude.

The fame of Abd-al-Rahman had penetrated the most remote and barbarous regions of the globe. Princes of every rank in friendly rivalry endeavored, by every resource of munificence and adulation, to secure his friendship and promote his interests. Splendid embassies, bearing rare and priceless gifts, were frequently seen in the streets of the capital. The most remarkable of these was one despatched by Constantine Porphryogenitus, the Byzantine emperor, whose pride made him ambitious to surpass, in the superb appointments and pompous ceremonial of his representatives, the reputed magnificence of his distant ally. But exhibiting, as it did, all the evidences of the opulence and grandeur of the master of the Eastern Empire, the embassy of Constantine was eclipsed by the gorgeous blaze of the Ommeyade Court. Its reception recalled the extravagant tales of Oriental romance. The approaches to the palace were lined with the guards of the Khalif, whose gay uniforms, burnished armor, and jewel-hilted scimetars glittered in the dazzling rays of an Andalusian sun. Beautiful awnings of silk were suspended over court-yard and archway. The halls of the Alcazar were hung with cloth of gold and silver, and with tapestry whose folds exhibited intricate patterns of the most exquisite arabesques. Through gardens of aromatic plants, through colonnades of many-colored marble, over floors of polished mosaic, the envoys were conducted to the audience chamber. Here were seated the Khalif and the members of his family, while ranged around them stood the great civil and military dignitaries of the empire, the chiefs of the eunuchs, the officials of the royal household. After a profound obeisance, the ambassadors presented the letter of their sovereign. It was of sky-blue parchment, inscribed with letters of gold. The seal was also of the same precious metal; it bore on one side the effigy of the Saviour, and on the other the medallions of Constantine and his son. The letter was enclosed in a golden box carved with wondrous skill, and it, in turn, was placed in a case enveloped in tissue of silk and gold. On the lid of this case was a mosaic portrait of the Greek emperor.

In order to impress the ambassadors with the talents and literary acquirements of his courtiers, as well as to do them honor, the Khalif had appointed a famous orator and poet to pronounce an address of welcome, which should, at the same time, exalt the glories of his reign and the grandeur of his empire. But the august presence in which he found himself, and the consciousness of his inability to do justice to his subject, so affected the impressible nature of the chosen exponent of the eloquence of Cordova that he was unable to utter a single word. Then the Khalif called upon one after another of the wise men at his side, whose skill in improvisation had heretofore never failed them, to greet the Grecian embassy, but they also were silent. At last, unsolicited, a Persian, named Mondhir-Ibn-Said, a recent arrival at the court, arose, and repeated some appropriate and extemporaneous verses, full of the glowing images and extravagant metaphors which are the delight of the passionate Oriental. When he concluded, neither the presence of royalty, nor the stately and dignified etiquette of the court, could repress the applause of the delighted audience, and the Khalif recompensed the fortunate poet with a purse of gold, and at once appointed him—for he was learned in the law—Chief Kadi of Cordova. The envoys, having received every attention in the power of their generous host, were dismissed, accompanied by a vizier charged to offer, in the name of the Khalif, a number of splendid horses, arms, and coats of mail to the Byzantine emperor.

The account of another embassy of an entirely different character which arrived some time afterwards is instructive, as affording a curious picture of the manners of the time. The Khalif having formed, from the accounts of mendacious travellers, an exaggerated idea of the extent and resources of Germany, and desirous of opening diplomatic relations with that power, sent to Otho, the son of Henry the Fowler, a letter, accompanied with the usual presents. The chief of the embassy, a Mozarabic bishop, perished on the journey, and the missive was delivered by his companions, who were ignorant of its contents. The pride of Abd-al-Rahman had permitted him to incorporate into his letter expressions which were not complimentary to the Trinitarian belief, or, as the chronicle suggestively remarks, “in it the German emperor was much better treated than the God of the Christians,” trusting to the tact of the bishop to soothe any irritation that might arise from its perusal. Otho, having read it, in the absence of all explanation, naturally construed the language of the Moslem as a deliberate insult to his religion, treated the envoys with marked indignity, removed them from the precincts of the court, and for three years wholly ignored their presence, except to restrain them of their liberty.

Then he determined to retaliate in kind. A letter was drawn up by the Archbishop of Cologne, in which the vocabularies of profane and ecclesiastical abuse were exhausted in search of epithets to be heaped upon Mohammed. A messenger was now sought to convey this scurrilous epistle, for, while many could be found who were willing to write it, few were inclined to run the risk attending its delivery; for it was well known that among the Moslems vituperation of the Prophet was inexorably punished with death. Finally, John de Gorza, a fanatic monk, whose austere life had obtained for him a reputation for unusual piety, voluntarily offered himself as a candidate for the perilous duty which almost necessarily involved the penalty of martyrdom. His services were accepted in default of those of an ambassador of superior dignity, and three ecclesiastics of equal rank were selected to accompany him, and to share the doubtful fortunes of the enterprise. All arrangements having been completed, this singular embassy set forth from the court of Otho with but slight probability of its return. Arrived without accident at Cordova, the monks were detained in one of the suburbs pending the negotiation which Abd-al-Rahman deemed it proper to enter into with them touching the offensive letter of the emperor, whose contents were no secret at the Mussulman court. The Khalif found himself placed in an unpleasant dilemma. The law was severely explicit concerning the treatment of such as blasphemed the name of Mohammed. Should the envoys deliver the letter of Otho, responsibility would attach to their act as the representatives of their sovereign, and yet their execution would be, in the eyes of the world, a serious violation of the law of nations. Every effort was made to induce John de Gorza to retain the letter and present only the gifts which accompanied it. The services of the shrewdest diplomatists of the court were enlisted for this purpose. But the stubborn fanatic, in whom the splendors of the Moslem empire aroused only a feeling of disdain, was not to be convinced by the insinuating arts nor intimidated by the menaces of the emissaries of the Khalif. The difficulty was at length adjusted by John de Gorza consenting to apply to his royal master for another letter to be substituted for the objectionable one in his possession. This was done, and, after a delay of eighteen months, preparations were made for the reception of the embassy. Now, however, a fresh obstacle was interposed by the obstinacy of monkish prejudice. The rigorous etiquette, as well as the elegance and decorum of the Moslem court, were insulted by the coarse and tattered garments and uncleanly appearance of the German envoy. Attributing his condition to poverty, the Khalif sent him a large sum of money to be expended in procuring suitable clothing. True to his profession, the unselfish anchorite at once bestowed the whole amount in alms upon the poor. The Khalif, unable to repress his admiration for the consistent and uncompromising character of the bold ecclesiastic, exclaimed, “By Allah! were he only clothed with a bag, I will see him.”

Introduced with every form of ceremonious courtesy into the presence of the most brilliant court in Europe, John de Gorza, unawed by the majesty of the monarch and apparently unimpressed by the new and dazzling scenes that met his eye, bore himself with a calm dignity and self-possession little to be expected from his previous conduct; and Abd-al-Rahman, greatly pleased with his candor and humility, accorded him before his departure the unusual distinction of a private audience, and finally dismissed him with every token of honor and esteem.

This period is remarkable for the success of a handful of adventurers, who, in the closing years of the preceding century, had established themselves on the coast of France, and whose enterprise, had they received substantial aid from the government of Cordova, might have affected, in no small degree, the ultimate fate of Christian Europe.

In the year 889, a band of twenty Moorish pirates were driven by a tempest into the Gulf of Grimaud, which washes the shores of Lower Provence. Their predatory habits tempted them to explore the adjacent country; a village was surprised and plundered; and further investigation convinced them of the advantages which chance had thrown in their way for the foundation of a permanent colony. It was indeed an ideal spot for a robber stronghold. The commerce of the Northern Mediterranean was within easy reach. The harbor was retired and capacious. Lofty mountains covered with dense forests surrounded it. From their summits could be discerned the highly-cultivated plains of France, for generations free from the inroads of the marauder, whose inhabitants, ruled by a succession of incapable princes, were wholly destitute of the martial spirit which supplies the neglect of royal protection in a hardy peasantry, and who had been long unaccustomed to the use of arms. Near at hand were the Alps, through whose unguarded passes access was obtainable to the smiling valleys and rich cities of Italy, a country which has been the goal of every military adventurer of Western Europe in both ancient and modern times.

The Moslem freebooters lost no time in apprising their friends and comrades of their discovery. Recruits from Spain, Sicily, and Africa daily swelled their ranks. It was not long before a score of castles—each the seat of a marauding chieftain—crowned the heights overlooking the Gulf of Grimaud and the Forest of Fraxinet. With profound sagacity, these enterprising bandits sold their support to the feudal barons, whose quarrels perpetually vexed the petty states of Provence, always choosing the weakest for their allies. Thus they held the balance of power, and, enriched by the plunder of civil war, acquired each year a larger measure of influence and importance. Their relentless cruelty gave them a weight out of all proportion to their numbers or their valor. Their excesses were the terror of the peasantry. By the end of the ninth century, they had crossed the Alps, threatened Turin, destroyed many monasteries, and laid waste the plains of Montferrat and Piedmont. They established themselves on the Po. In 935 they had advanced to the borders of Liguria. Their depredations extended as far as the city of Genoa. The passes of Mount Cenis and Mount St. Bernard were in their hands. From their strongholds in the Alps they stopped all traffic and levied contributions on every traveller. They carried their arms into Switzerland, and penetrated to the shores of Lake Constance. They burned churches and abbeys under the walls of Marseilles. The city of Nice still bears, in the name of one of its quarters, a souvenir of Saracen occupation.

In France, by reason of its proximity to their colony and the greater facilities it offered to their movements, their incursions were more frequent and disastrous. Much of the level country was depopulated. In the strongest cities alone was security to be found. Almost the entire territory of Provence, Languedoc, and Dauphiné was at one time subject to the visitations of this awful scourge. So strongly had these daring banditti intrenched themselves in the mountains of Southwestern Europe, that the princes in whose dominions they were found were unable to dislodge them. It is hinted by Liutprand that the embassy of John de Gorza had for its principal object the cessation of their ravages, through the intervention of the Khalif, a statement by no means improbable.