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Roderick, the last of the Goths

Chapter 26: XXII. THE MOORISH COUNCIL.
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About This Book

The poem recounts the tragic fall of Roderick, last Gothic king, whose private passions and political failures coincide with an invading force and betrayals that overturn his realm. It interleaves scenes of solitude, penitence, romance, and battle, following his interactions with figures such as Florinda, Count Julian, Pelayo, and others, and depicting monasteries, camps, and mountain fastnesses. Themes include guilt, crisis, fate and repentance, with meditative passages on virtue and loss. The structure alternates dramatic episodes and reflective interludes, culminating in defeat, resistance in the mountains, and the personal consequences of leadership and moral error.

XXII.
THE MOORISH COUNCIL.

Thus they beside the fountain sate, of food
And rest forgetful, when a messenger
Summon’d Count Julian to the Leader’s tent.
In council there at that late hour he found
The assembled Chiefs, on sudden tidings call’d
Of unexpected weight from Cordoba.
Jealous that Abdalazis had assumed
A regal state, affecting in his court
The forms of Gothic sovereignty, the Moors,
Whom artful spirits of ambitious mould
Stirr’d up, had risen against him in revolt:
And he who late had in the Caliph’s name
Ruled from the Ocean to the Pyrenees,
A mutilate and headless carcase now,
From pitying hands received beside the road
A hasty grave, scarce hidden there from dogs
And ravens, nor from wintry rains secure.
She, too, who in the wreck of Spain preserved
Her queenly rank, the wife of Roderick first,
Of Abdalazis after, and to both
Alike unhappy, shared the ruin now
Her counsels had brought on; for she had led
The infatuate Moor, in dangerous vauntery,
To these aspiring forms, ... so should he gain
Respect and honour from the Musselmen,
She said, and that the obedience of the Goths
Follow’d the sceptre. In an evil hour
She gave the counsel, and in evil hour
He lent a willing ear; the popular rage
Fell on them both; and they to whom her name
Had been a mark for mockery and reproach,
Shudder’d with human horror at her fate.
Ayub was heading the wild anarchy;
But where the cement of authority
Is wanting, all things there are dislocate:
The mutinous soldiery, by every cry
Of rumour set in wild career, were driven
By every gust of passion, setting up
One hour, what in the impulse of the next,
Equally unreasoning, they destroy’d: thus all
Was in misrule where uproar gave the law,
And ere from far Damascus they could learn
The Caliph’s pleasure, many a moon must pass.
What should be done? should Abulcacem march
To Cordoba, and in the Caliph’s name
Assume the power which to his rank in arms
Rightly devolved, restoring thus the reign
Of order? or pursue with quicken’d speed
The end of this great armament, and crush
Rebellion first, then to domestic ills
Apply his undivided mind and force
Victorious? What in this emergency
Was Julian’s counsel, Abulcacem ask’d,
Should they accomplish soon their enterprize?
Or would the insurgent infidels prolong
The contest, seeking by protracted war
To weary them, and trusting in the strength
Of these wild hills?
Julian replied, The Chief
Of this revolt is wary, resolute,
Of approved worth in war: a desperate part
He for himself deliberately hath chosen,
Confiding in the hereditary love
Borne to him by these hardy mountaineers,
A love which his own noble qualities
Have strengthen’d so that every heart is his.
When ye can bring them to the open proof
Of battle, ye will find them in his cause
Lavish of life; but well they know the strength
Of their own fastnesses, the mountain paths
Impervious to pursuit, the vantages
Of rock, and pass, and woodland, and ravine;
And hardly will ye tempt them to forego
These natural aids wherein they put their trust
As in their stubborn spirit, each alike
Deem’d by themselves invincible, and so
By Roman found and Goth ... beneath whose sway
Slowly persuaded rather than subdued
They came, and still through every change retain’d
Their manners obstinate and barbarous speech.
My counsel, therefore, is, that we secure
With strong increase of force the adjacent posts,
And chiefly Gegio, leaving them so mann’d
As may abate the hope of enterprize
Their strength being told. Time in a strife like this
Becomes the ally of those who trust in him:
Make then with Time your covenant. Old feuds
May disunite the chiefs: some may be gain’d
By fair entreaty, others by the stroke
Of nature, or of policy, cut off.
This was the counsel which in Cordoba
I offer’d Abdalazis: in ill hour
Rejecting it, he sent upon this war
His father’s faithful friend! Dark are the ways
Of destiny! had I been at his side
Old Muza would not now have mourn’d his age
Left childless, nor had Ayub dared defy
The Caliph’s represented power. The case
Calls for thine instant presence, with the weight
Of thy legitimate authority.
Julian said Orpas, turning from beneath
His turban to the Count a crafty eye,
Thy daughter is return’d; doth she not bring
Some tidings of the movements of the foe?
The Count replied, When child and parent meet
First reconciled from discontents which wrung
The hearts of both, ill should their converse be
Of warlike matters! There hath been no time
For such enquiries, neither should I think
To ask her touching that for which I know
She hath neither eye nor thought.
There was a time
Orpas with smile malignant thus replied,
When in the progress of the Caliph’s arms
Count Julian’s daughter had an interest
Which touch’d her nearly! But her turn is served,
And hatred of Prince Orpas may beget
Indifference to the cause. Yet Destiny
Still guideth to the service of the faith
The wayward heart of woman; for as one
Delivered Roderick to the avenging sword,
So hath another at this hour betray’d
Pelayo to his fall. His sister came
At nightfall to my tent a fugitive.
She tells me that on learning our approach
The rebel to a cavern in the hills
Had sent his wife and children, and with them
Those of his followers, thinking there conceal’d
They might be safe. She, moved, by injuries
Which stung her spirit, on the way escaped,
And for revenge will guide us. In reward
She asks her brother’s forfeiture of lands
In marriage with Numacian: something too
Touching his life, that for her services
It might be spared, she said; ... an after-thought
To salve decorum, and if conscience wake
Serve as a sop: but when the sword shall smite
Pelayo and his dangerous race, I ween
That a thin kerchief will dry all the tears
The Lady Guisla sheds!
’Tis the old taint!
Said Julian mournfully; from her mother’s womb
She brought the inbred wickedness which now
In ripe infection blossoms. Woman, woman,
Still to the Goths art thou the instrument
Of overthrow; thy virtue and thy vice
Fatal alike to them!
Say rather, cried
The insidious renegade, that Allah thus
By woman punisheth the idolatry
Of those who raise a woman to the rank
Of godhead, calling on their Mary’s name
With senseless prayers. In vain shall they invoke
Her trusted succour now! like silly birds
By fear betray’d, they fly into the toils;
And this Pelayo, who in lengthen’d war
Baffling our force, has thought perhaps to reign
Prince of the Mountains, when we hold his wife
And offspring at our mercy, must himself
Come to the lure.
Enough, the Leader said;
This unexpected work of favouring Fate
Opens an easy way to our desires,
And renders farther counsel needless now.
Great is the Prophet whose protecting power
Goes with the faithful forth! the rebels’ days
Are number’d; Allah hath deliver’d them
Into our hands!
So saying he arose;
The Chiefs withdrew, Orpas alone remain’d
Obedient to his indicated will.
The event, said Abulcacem, hath approved
Thy judgement in all points; his daughter comes
At the first summons, even as thou saidst;
Her errand with the insurgents done, she brings
Their well-concerted project back, a safe
And unexpected messenger; ... the Moor,
The shallow Moor, ... must see and not perceive;
Must hear and understand not; yea must bear,
Poor easy fool, to serve their after mirth,
A part in his own undoing! But just Heaven
With this unlook’d-for incident hath marr’d
Their complots, and the sword shall cut this web
Of treason.
Well, the renegade replied,
Thou knowest Count Julian’s spirit, quick in wiles,
In act audacious. Baffled now, he thinks
Either by instant warning to apprize
The rebels of their danger, or preserve
The hostages when fallen into our power,
Till secret craft contrive, or open force
Win their enlargement. Haply too he dreams
Of Cordoba, the avenger and the friend
Of Abdalazis, in that cause to arm
Moor against Moor, preparing for himself
The victory o’er the enfeebled conquerors.
Success in treason hath embolden’d him,
And power but serves him for fresh treachery, false
To Roderick first, and to the Caliph now.
The guilt, said Abulcacem, is confirm’d,
The sentence past; all that is now required
Is to strike sure and safely. He hath with him
A veteran force devoted to his will,
Whom to provoke were perilous; nor less
Of peril lies there in delay: what course
Between these equal dangers should we steer?
They have been train’d beneath him in the wars
Of Africa, the renegade replied;
Men are they who, from their youth up, have found
Their occupation and their joy in arms;
Indifferent to the cause for which they fight,
But faithful to their leader, who hath won
By licence largely given, yet temper’d still
With exercise of firm authority,
Their whole devotion. Vainly should we seek
By proof of Julian’s guilt to pacify
Such martial spirits, unto whom all creeds
And countries are alike; but take away
The head, and forthwith their fidelity
Goes at the market price. The act must be
Sudden and secret; poison is too slow.
Thus it may best be done; the Mountaineers,
Doubtless, ere long will rouse us with some spur
Of sudden enterprise: at such a time
A trusty minister approaching him
May smite him, so that all shall think the spear
Comes from the hostile troops.
Right counsellor!
Cried Abulcacem, thou shalt have his lands,
The proper meed of thy fidelity:
His daughter thou may’st take or leave. Go now
And find a faithful instrument to put
Our purpose in effect!... And when ’tis done,
The Moor, as Orpas from the tent withdrew,
Muttering pursued, ... look for a like reward
Thyself! that restless head of wickedness
In the grave will brood no treasons. Other babes
Scream when the Devil, as they spring to life,
Infects them with his touch; but thou didst stretch
Thine arms to meet him, and like mother’s milk
Suck the congenial evil! Thou hast tried
Both laws, and were there aught to gain, wouldst prove
A third as readily; but when thy sins
Are weigh’d, ’twill be against an empty scale,
And neither Prophet will avail thee then!