Jews and Moors in Spain

by Joseph Krauskopf

CONTENTS.

[CHAPTER I.]
A Day in Cordova.	3-11
Six and Eight and Ten Centuries Back in the World'sHistory.—Our Entrance into Spain.—A Miracle.—TheBeautiful Guadalaquivir.—Our Bronze ComplexionedOarsman.—Fair Cordova.—The City of the Arts andSciences.—Night.—A Serenade.—Our Departure.
[CHAPTER II.]
Europe During the Dark Ages.	12-21
Upon The Ocean.—Desolate Europe.—Longing AfterCordova.—Southern Spain Contrasted with the Rest ofEurope.—Revolting Uncleanliness..Ascetic Monks Establishthe Belief that Cleanliness of Body Leads to Pollution ofSoul.—Intellect Fettered Hand and Foot.—Clergy RetardingProgress.—Secular Knowledge Spurned.
[CHAPTER III.]
Europe During the Dark Ages, Continued.	21-33
Gross Superstitions.—A Crucifix that Shed Tears ofBlood.—The Virgin's House Carried Through the Air byAngels.—Satan in the Form of a Beautiful Woman.—Scenesin Hell.—The Burning of Witches.—A King who Cannot Writehis Name.—Feudal Lords as Highway Robbers.—The Serfdomof the Peasants.—Return to Cordova.
[CHAPTER IV.]
Return To Cordova.	34-45
Cordova at Day Break.—The Mohammedan Sabbath.—The Youthof Cordova Disports itself upon the Water.—Song.—Challengebetween Oarsman.—The Muezzin's Call.—The Great Mosque.—ASermon.—Chasdai Ibn Shaprut, the Jewish Minister to theCaliph.—Dunash Ibn Labrat.—On the Way to Abdallah IbnXamri, the Moorish Poet.
[CHAPTER V.]
The Arab-Moors.	46-57
Abdallah Tells the Early History of the Arabs.—Miracles atthe Birth of Mohammed.—The Angel, Gabriel Writes the Koranupon Palm Leaves.—Ten Decisive Years in the History ofReligion.—Beautiful Zealica.—Arab-Moors Checked in theirConquest.—Quarrel between King Roderick and Count Julian,Father of the Insulted Florinda.—Jews Ally with theWronged Father.—Andalusia Conquered.
[CHAPTER VI.]
A Sabbath Eve in Cordova.	58-68
The Synagogue of Cordova.—The Daughters of IsraelPreparing for the Sabbath.—The Throne of the"Nasi".—Rabbi Moses Ben Chanoch.—The Eloquence ofSilence.—A Tearful Scene.—Three Rabbis TakenCaptive by Pirates.—Evil Designs against Chanoch's Youngand Beautiful Wife.—Sold as Slave to Cordova.—HisMiraculous Rise.
[CHAPTER VII.]
A Sabbath Eve in Cordova, Continued.	69-81
The Evening Service.—A Beautiful Custom inIsrael.—Honored with an Invitation to Chasdai'sHouse.—Illuminated Streets.—The Two Angels.—An IdealSabbath in an Ideal Home.—The Praise of the VirtuousWoman.—A Father's Blessing.—Presented to the Ladies.—TheEvening Meal.—The Jewish Kingdom of the Khozars.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
Entrance of the Jews into Europe.	82-89
Chasdai's Library.—His Account of the Entrance of the Jewsinto Europe.—The Destruction of Jerusalem.—A TerribleCarnage.—Israel Ceases as a Nation.—The Diaspore.—TheDaughter-Religions Thrive upon the Sufferings they InflictUpon the Mother-Religion.—The Indestructibility ofIsrael.—Humiliated but Not Forsaken.
[CHAPTER IX.]
Entrance of the Jews into Spain.	90-101
Jews Settle in Spain During the Reign of KingSolomon.—Jewish Agricultural Skill makes Andalusia theGarden Spot of Europe.—Prosperity the Great Crime of theJews.—The Beginning of Jewish Persecutions inEurope.—Cruel Laws.—Vengeance.—The Jews Conspire withCount Julian and Moors against Spain.—Victory.—MoorishAppreciation of the Services of the Jews.
[CHAPTER X.]
Their Position in Medical Science.	102-111
The Fifteenth Century.—A Change in the Fortunes of theJews and Moors.—An Examination into their GreatAchievements.—Their Skill in Medical Science.—MiracleCure by Christian Clergy.—Jewish Body Physicians HighlyPrized and Much Sought.—Prominent Medical Schools andEminent Physicians.—Rashi.—Ibn Ezra.—IbnTibbon.—Maimonides.—Avenzoar Avicenna.
[CHAPTER XI.]
In the Sciences.	112-122
Marvelous Intellectual Superiority of Moors andJews.—Moors Excel the Jews in the Sciences.—TheyIntroduce the Mathematical Sciences. Their Progress inAstronomy.—Absurd Refutations by the ChristianClergy.—The Researches into Chemistry, Zoology andGeology.—They Anticipate Modern Discoveries.—Europe'sIngratitude.
[CHAPTER XII.]
In Literature.	123-147
Spain's Prosperity Stimulates Literature.—LavishProvisions for Education.—Caliphs Patrons ofLearning.—Vast Libraries Embodying the Knowledge of theDay.—Poetry Especially Fostered.—Story-telling.—Jewishand Moorish Poetry Contrasted.—Jehuda HaLevy.—Charisi.—Gabirol.—Moses Ben Ezra.
[CHAPTER XIII.]
In Philosophy.	148-158
Alexandria, the Intellectual Metropolis of the World.—AProdigious Stimulus Given to Learning.—TheSeptuagint.—Development of Grecian Philosophy intoAristotlianism.—This Engrafted on JewishTheology.—Opposition of Christianity toAristotlianism.—Averroes.—Moses Maimonides. OppositionUnsuccessful.
[CHAPTER XIV.]
In The Industries.	159-170
Intellectual Greatness of Moors and Jews Induced by TheirMaterial Prosperity.—Remarkable Development ofAgriculture.—New Discoveries in Every Industry.—Mining aSpecialty.—The Magnet, Mariner's Compass MechanicalApparatus.—Spread of Commerce Leads to General Awakeningof Europe that Ends Middle Ages.
[CHAPTER XV.]
The Inquisition.	171-188
Jewish and Moorish Intellectual Advance followed byPhysical Decline.—This Decline the Cause of TheirDownfall.—The Spaniard Again Ruler Over Spain.—TheInquisition Established.—To Escape it, Jews Become "NewChristians".—Christianity no Help to the Jews.—Thomas deTorquemada.—The Tortures of the Inquisition.—A PublicBurning.
[CHAPTER XVI.]
The Expulsion of the Jews.	189-205
Torquemada Resolves Upon Immediate Expulsion of allUnconverted Jews.—The Fatal Edict.—The Spaniards Moved toPity.—Don Isaac Abarbanel Pleads with the Queen.—TheQueen Hesitates.—Torquemada, the Fiend, ConquersAgain.—The Ill-fated Jews Seek Among the Dead the Pitywhich the Living Refuse.—The Departure.
[CHAPTER XVII.]
The Dispersion of the Jews.	206-224
Exiles Transported on Ships.—Heart-rending Scenes on Boarda Ship.—Set Ashore on Deserted Islands toStarve.—Starving Jews Given the Choice Between Death andChristianity.—Merciful Italy.—CraftyPortugal.—Torquemada's Edict Eclipsed.—The Expulsion ofthe Jews From Portugal.—A Condition.—The King'sMarriage.—Contract.—Final Expulsion.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
Effect of the Expulsion.	225-240
A Brief Review.—Curse of God Visited Upon Spain.—TheChurch a False Prophet.—With Expulsion of the Jews andMoors Spanish Prosperity Ceases.—Spaniards Experience someof the Sufferings which the Jews and Moors hadEndured.—Spain Makes Amends.—The Moors Lost.—The Jews Live.

---

The Jews and Moors in Spain.

CHAPTER I.
A DAY IN CORDOVA.

SIX AND EIGHT AND TEN CENTURIES BACK IN THE WORLD'S HISTORY.—OUR ENTRANCE INTO SPAIN.—A MIRACLE.—THE BEAUTIFUL GUADALQUIVIR.—OUR BRONZE COMPLEXIONED OARSMAN.—FAIR CORDOVA.—THE CITY OF THE ARTS AND SCIENCES.—NIGHT.—A SERENADE.—OUR DEPARTURE.

It is with the past that we shall commune in these pages. Events and scenes, beautiful and loathsome, joyous and tearful, ennobling and degrading, will follow each other in rapid succession. There will be much that, despite the very best of historic sources, and most reliable and impartial authorities, will be accepted as fabulous or will be rejected as incredible or impossible. Achievements will be described, that will startle us for their peerless magnificence and lead us to suppose that we are not dealing with facts, but with the imaginations of some rich phantasy or with the fictitious colorings of a mind enthusiastic for an ideal society; and miseries and sufferings will be depicted that will strike terror into our very soul, and cause our heart to rise in rebellion against the mind, when asked to believe them as actual occurrences, and not as some distressing and revolting and blood-stained work of fiction, written by some hellish fiend for the amusement or for the schooling of the vicious indwellers of the bottomless pit of Tophet. And yet, it will be history, and true history, strange and incredible, marvelous and anomalous though it may appear. Six and eight and ten centuries have since passed by, and the most wonderful of all centuries they have been, centuries that chronicle the birth and prodigious growth of the sciences and inventions, the creation and successful continuance of republican and constitutional governments, the breaking down of castes and barriers between man and man, the suppression of political and religious terrorism and these blessed results have so tickled our conceit, have so raised our moral standard that it is almost impossible for us to properly conceive—either in all its grandeur or in all its baseness—that era of the past, which we are about to traverse.

But know we must, and therefore, what the mind refuses to believe, and what the heart refuses to credit, let the eye see. Let us think ourselves back six and eight and ten centuries. Let us enter upon a far and distant journey. Away we speed. Far, far across the wild Atlantic. We have reached the sunny land of Spain. Here let us pause for a hasty inspection. It will not take us long, for that country, that is among the poorest of all European countries to-day, whose reeking filth has recently made it a scene of revelry to the ravishing plague, whose stupendous ignorance, and appalling superstitions, have made it a by-word among the civilized people of the earth, that country, so backward now, will certainly have no attractiveness for us, ten centuries earlier in its history.

Lo! A miracle! The magic wand of some frolicksome fay must have suddenly transformed the land of expected filth and wretchedness into a beauteous fairyland. Amidst rapturous admiration of the indescribable beauties, which meet our gaze everywhere, we glide along upon the placid surface of the Guadalquivir, in which a wondrously clear blue sky glasses itself, and splendrous palaces and gorgeous parks are reflected. We have entered beautiful Andalusia. We glide along the southern declivity of the Sierra Morena. Suddenly there breaks upon our view a scene of beauty that mocks every attempt at description. We ask our black eyed, bronze complexioned and proud featured oarsman for the name of that magnificent city that lies stretched for miles along the right bank. He understands us not. We address him in French, in German, in Greek, in Latin. No answer. We are at our wits' end. We must know, and so we seek recourse, as a last resort, to our mother tongue, the language of the Hebrews, and his face brightens, and his tongue is loosened, and in accents as melodious and pure as it must have been spoken by David himself, when he sang to his harp, the words of his own heaven-inspired psalms he makes reply: "What ye behold, ye strangers, is the city of Cordova, the government seat of the valiant and chivalrous, and scholarly and liberal, and art-loving Caliph Abderrahman III."

We are burning with a desire to see that city, whose simple outlines display such bewildering elegance. With our courteous oarsman as guide, we advance along the street that leads from the river bank. We gaze and gaze in awe-stricken silence. Amazement is expressed on every countenance. Our eyes are dazzled with the enchanting magnificence that abounds. We have reached the palace of the Caliph. Are we dreaming? Are we under the power of some magic spell? Is this a whim of some sportive, mischief-loving fay? Have we not thought ourselves some ten centuries back? Are we in the midst of the Dark Ages; in European lands, and among the people of the tenth century, concerning whose stupendous ignorance and loathsome filth historians have had so much to say? Has history deceived us in its teaching that the people of Europe, six and eight centuries back had scarcely emerged from the savage state, that they inhabited floorless, chimneyless, windowless huts, those of princes and monarchs differing only in their having rushes on the floor and straw mats against the walls, that they fed on roots and vetches and bark of trees, clothed in garments of untanned skin which remained on the body till they dropped in pieces, that there existed scarcely a city, everywhere pathless forest and howling wastes?

It is not a dream. Neither has history deceived us. We are in European lands, but among Oriental people. We are in the midst of the prime of the dark ages, but we are in the Southern part of Spain, in Andalusia, in the city of Cordova, a city of 200,000 houses, and 1,000,000 inhabitants, of hundreds of parks and public gardens, of menageries of foreign animals, of aviaries of rare birds, of factories in which skilled workmen display their art in textures of silk, cotton, linen, and all the miracles of the loom, in jewelry and in filigree works, in works of art, and in scientific instruments and apparatus. We are in the city that, even then, could boast of a college of music, of libraries, of public schools, of universities in which instructions were given in the sciences and philosophies and languages, and literatures and arts. We are in the city of art and culture and learning, the city made famous and beautiful by the literary and cultured Moors and Jews, whose prosperity continued as long as the followers of Mohammed and the followers of Moses were permitted to dwell in peace side by side, but whose glory vanished as soon as Christianity banished the Jews and Moors from Spain. But we must not indulge in any reflections now. Our raven locked guide, whose beautiful form, and winning countenance, and melodious voice involuntarily remind us of the beautiful lover of the love-inflamed Shulamite in "Solomon's Song," beckons, and we must follow. On we march, and with every step new and matchless beauties unroll themselves before us. We know not what we shall admire first, and most, whether the polished marble balconies that overhang luscious orange gardens, or the courts with the cascades of water beneath the shades of the cypress trees, or the artificial lakes, supplied with water by hydraulic works, replete with fish; whether the shady retreats with inlaid floors and walls of exquisite mosaic, vaulted with stained glass and speckled with gold, over which streams of water are continually gushing, or the fountains of quicksilver, that shoot up in glittering globules and fall with a tranquil sound like fairy bells; whether the apartments into which cool air is drawn from the flower gardens, in summer by means of ventilating towers and in winter through earthen pipes or caleducts imbedded in the walls—the hypocaust, in the vaults below, or the walls adorned with arabesque and paintings of agricultural scenes and views of paradise, or the ceilings corniced with fretted gold, other great chandeliers with their hundreds and hundreds of lamps; whether the columns of Greek, Italian, Spanish and African marble, covered with verd-antique and incrusted with lapis lazuli, or the furniture of sandal and citron wood, inlaid with mother of pearl, ivory, silver, or relieved with gold and precious malachite, or the costume of the ladies woven in silk and gold, and decorated with gems of chrysolites, hyacinths, emeralds and sapphires; whether the vases of rock crystal, Chinese porcelains, the embroidered Persian carpets with which the floors are covered, the rich tapestry that hangs along the walls, or the beautiful gardens, profuse with rare and exotic flowers, winding walks, bowers of roses, seats cut out of the rock, crypt-like grottoes hewn into the stone; whether the baths of marble, with hot and cold water, carried thither by pipes of metal, or the niches, with their dripping alcarazzas, or the whispering galleries for the amusement of the women, or the labyrinths and marble play-courts for the children.

On and on we pass, and new beauties still. We pass mosques and synagogues whose architectural finish is still the admiration and model of the world, and our gentle guide informs us that a public school is attached to each, in which the children of the poor are taught to read and write. We pass academies and universities, and our guide assures us that many a Hebrew presides over the Moorish institutions of learning. He reads the expression of surprise on our countenance, for we think of the striking contrast between his Mohammedan liberality and the intolerance of the other European countries, from which they are scarcely weaned as yet, and he modestly informs us that the Mohammedan maxim is, that "the real learning of a man is of more importance than any particular religious opinions he may entertain." And as the famous scholars pass in and out, our guide mentions them by name, and speaks of their brilliant accomplishments, of professors of Arabic classical literature, of professors of mathematics and astronomy, compilers of dictionaries similar to those now in use, but of larger copiousness, one of these covering sixty volumes, he points out the lexicographers of Greek and Latin and Hebrew and Arabic, and the encyclopedists of the "Historical Dictionary of Sciences," the poets of the satires, odes and elegies, and the inventors of the rhyme, the writers of history, of chronology, of numismatics, mathematics, astronomy, of pulpit oratory, of agriculture, of topography, of statistics, of physics, philosophy, medicines, dentistry, surgery, zoology, botany, pharmacy, and of the numerous other branches of learning.

Night has set in. Men are gathering around their evening fires to listen to the wandering literati, who exercise their wonderful powers of tale telling, and edify the eager listeners by such narratives as those that have descended to us in the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments." The dulcet strains of the dreamy and love-awaking mandolin, accompanying the rapturous love song of some chivalrous knight to his lady fair, break on our ears. Soon all is silent. We fain would stay, but our guide is weary from his day's task. Perchance the sweet strains of the serenade have awakened within his bosom tender longings for his fair Shulamite, "whose eyes are as the dove's, and whose lips are like a thread of scarlet, and whose speech is comely," (Song of Solomon, chap. iv.) to whom he would eagerly speed. And so we retrace our steps. For miles we walk in a straight line, by the light of public lamps; seven hundred years after this time there was not so much as one public lamp in London. For miles we walk along solidly paved streets. In Paris centuries subsequently, whoever stepped over his threshold on a rainy day stepped up to his ankles in mud. We have reached the bank of the Guadalquivir, and we have parted with our guide.

We have seen in one day more than we ever dared to dream of; enough to tempt us to visit it again and again, and not only Cordova, but also Grenada, Toledo, Barcelona, Saragossa, Seville, and other cities, to acquire a better acquaintanceship with their scholars and institutions, and with the wondrous advance of their civilization. Before we return, however, we shall visit France, Germany, England and Northern Spain, during the same era of the world's history, about ten centuries back, and the scenes that we shall meet there will enable us to appreciate all the better the benefits which the Moors and the Jews lavished upon Europe, and we shall become the more painfully conscious of the unatonable crime Spain has committed in expelling the Moors from Europe, and degrading the Jews for centuries to the dregs of mankind.

---

CHAPTER II.
EUROPE DURING THE DARK AGES.

UPON THE OCEAN.—DESOLATE EUROPE.—LONGING AFTER CORDOVA.—SOUTHERN SPAIN CONTRASTED WITH THE REST OF EUROPE.—REVOLTING UNCLEANLINESS.—ASCETIC MONKS ESTABLISH THE BELIEF THAT CLEANLINESS OF BODY LEADS TO POLLUTION OF SOUL.—INTELLECT FETTERED HAND AND FOOT.—CLERGY RETARDING PROGRESS.—SECULAR KNOWLEDGE SPURNED.

On, on, we glide upon the smooth, broad bosom of the majestic Guadalquivir, along graceful groves and parks and palaces, through woods and meads, hills and dales, shades and sun. A last glance, and beauteous Cordova hides her proud head behind the sun-kissed horizon.

---

Fair Cordova, fair Andalusia, fair Southern lands of Spain, fare ye well, take our brief adieu, till we visit you anew.

---

On, on, we sail, towards the Atlantic now we speed.

---

We have reached the shores of the interminable ocean. Its wild waves dash fiercely against the rock-ribbed shores, as if impatient for our return. Our goodly ship, staunch and strong, raises and lowers its festooned bow upon the heaving billows of the waters vast, and its pendant is playing in the wind, and its sails from the foreroyal to the mizzenroyal, and up to the very top of the mainroyal are furled to the full, in its hearty welcome to our return. We embark, and—

"On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone.

Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,

New shores descried, make every bosom gay,"

For we are to visit beautiful France, and learned Germany, and busy England, and Italy, of classic fame.

Once more we are on the continent. Once more our observations are to be put to the task. Once more we think ourselves some six and eight and ten centuries back in the world's history. Once more the eye is to be made to see what the mind has refused to credit.

Dreary and chilling and appalling are the scenes that now break upon our view. Longingly we think of thee, fair Cordova, thou pride of beauteous Andalusia. We think of thy pavements of marble, of thy fountains of jasper, of thy wondrous artistic skill, of thy exquisite gardens, of thy famous poets and musicians, artists and writers, philosophers and scientists, of thy chivalrous knights and enchanting ladies. Longingly we think of thy wondrous beauty, that would, indeed, in our present surroundings, have sounded fabulous had not our own eyes seen it. Had we been suddenly transplanted from the midst of blossoming and ripening summer, joyous because of its balmy breath and the melodious song of its birds, and the fragrant breath of its flowers, and the gladdening sight of its ripening fruit into the midst of the barren winter, where nature is frozen dead, and the storm rides on the gale, and the earth is bare and naked, and the air is cold and dreary, and the sun shines gloomily through the bleak and murky skies, that sudden change could not have been more keenly nor more painfully felt than that which marked the contrast between the southern lands of Spain and the countries of France and Germany and England and Italy, during the same age of the world's history. Scarcely a city anywhere, save those few that had been erected along the Rhine and the Danube by the Romans. Nothing that could, even with the broadest stretch of leniency, be designated as agricultural. Everywhere pathless forests, howling wastes, ill-boding wildernesses, death-exhaling swamps, pestiferous fens. Prussia, and many more of to-day's proudest stars in the galaxy of European provinces, we find still uncivilized, still roaming about in the very costumes of native barbarians, in the spirits—and vampires—and nixes—and gnomes—and kobolds—inhabited pathless forests. Nowhere a street or highway, save those the Romans had built. Everywhere we must make our way, amidst indescribable difficulties, through almost impassable mud and clay. The people crowded together in miserable hamlets, inhabit wretched homesteads, crudely and bunglingly put together of undressed timber, or of twigs wattled together and covered with clays or thatched with straw or reeds, consisting seldom of more than one room, which shelters alike man, woman, child, man servant, maid servant, fowl and beast, a commingling of sex and species not altogether conducive to modesty or morality. The floor, for the main part is composed of the hard bare ground, or at best is covered with dry leaves or with filthy rushes. Nowhere a window, nowhere a chimney, the smoke of the ill-fed, cheerless fire escaping through a hole in the roof. Straw pellets constitute the bed, and a round log serves the place of bolster and pillow, one platter of treen stands in the center of the table—if "table" it might be called—from which man, woman and child, master and servant, maid and mistress, eat with spoons of wood. Fingers serve the place of knives and forks, and a wooden trencher makes the round to quench the thirst.

Everywhere we meet with men with squalid beards, and women with hair unkempt and matted with filth, and both, clothed in garments of untanned skin, or, at best, of leather or hair cloth, that are not changed till they drop in pieces of themselves, a loathsome mass of vermin, stench and rags. No attempt at drainage; the putrefying slops and garbage and rubbish are unceremoniously thrown out of the door.

The most revolting uncleanness abounds, and we cannot help thinking of the scrupulous cleanliness that distinguished Cordova, for cleanness is one of the most rigorous injunctions and requirements with both the religion of Mohammed and the religion of Moses. Here, on the contrary, personal uncleanliness, the renunciation of every personal comfort, the branding of every effort for better surroundings, we are told, upon inquiry, has the highest sanction of the church. The sordid example set by the Ascetic monks has established the belief that cleanliness of the body leads to the pollution of the soul, that in the past those saints were most admired who had become one hideous mass of clotted filth. With a thrill of admiration a priest informs us that St. Jerome had seen a monk who for thirty years had lived in a hole, and who never washed his clothes, nor changed his tunic till it fell to pieces; that St. Ammon had never seen himself naked; that the famous virgin, named Silvia, had resolutely refused for sixty years, on religious principles, to wash any part of her body, except her fingers; that St. Euphraxia had joined a convent of 130 nuns, who shuddered at the mention of a bath; that an anchorite had once imagined that he was mocked by an illusion of the devil, as he saw gliding before him through the desert a naked creature black with filth and years of exposure; it was the once beautiful St. Mary of Egypt, who had thus during forty-seven years been expiating her sins of Asceticism.

We have seen enough to lead us to the conclusion, that when we enter into an examination of the mental and moral and religious state of the people, whose personal and domestic life hold so low a rank in the history of civilization, we must not place our expectations too high. But low as we picture it to ourselves, the reality we find is infinitly lower than even our most lenient imagination had pictured it. Only a week ago we found Cordova proud, and distinguished, and peerless in the realm of culture, and art, and philosophy, and science, and now, during the same period of the world's history, we find a deep black cloud of appalling ignorance overhanging France, and Italy, and Germany and England, here and there only broken by a few, a very few, glimmering lights. Intellect, fettered hand and foot, lies bleeding at the feet of benighted barbarism, writhing in pain beneath the lashes of degrading superstitions, and groveling credulity. We search for the cause of this stupendous ignorance, and we soon find that to the clergy, more than to all other causes combined, belongs the very ignoble distinction of having ushered into Europe this stolid ignorance, and for being responsible for the unatonable crime of having retarded the advance of civilization by many centuries.

To the all powerful and all controlling influence of the Church is to be ascribed the universal paralysis of the mind during the very same period, when art and science and independent research flourished in Southern Spain under Moorish and Jewish influence. Whomsoever we approach, be they dignitaries of the Church or Church menials, distinguished luminaries or obscure parish priests, a conversation with them soon proves to us the sad truth, that their stock of knowledge exhausts itself with an enumeration of some monstrous legends or with the practice and teaching of some degrading and repulsive superstitions.

Secular knowledge is spurned. Physical science is held in avowed contempt and persecuted upon the ground of its inconsistency with revealed truth. Philosophical research is prohibited, under the severest punishment, as pernicious to piety. Upon inquiry as to the cause of this persecution of learning on the part of the church, which, as we modestly dare to suggest, has nothing to lose, but everything to gain from rational research and diligent pursuit of knowledge, a bishop emphatically informs us that they did this with the sanction and authority of the fourth council of Carthage, which had prohibited the reading of secular books by bishops, and with the authority of Jerome who had condemned the study of secular subjects, except for pious ends, and as there was no lack of piety (so they artlessly thought) they saw little use in preserving the learning and literature of the accursed Jews and heathens, and fearing lest they fall into the hands of others, not so pious as they, and not so protected against their pernicious influence by the knowledge of legends, or by the skillful use of magic spells, or exorcising charms, as they were. Or perhaps secretly fearing, lest an intimate knowledge of the learning of the ancients might open the eyes of the people to the ignorance and extortions and crimes and corruptions of the Church, they condemn that whole literature to the flames. Hundreds and thousands of valuable manuscripts are thus pitilessly destroyed. We fain would stay their cruel hand, but we fear for our lives. We see them erase the writing from hundreds and thousands of parchment copies of ancient priceless lore, and substitute in its stead legends of saints, and ecclesiastical rubbish, occasioning thus the loss of many an ancient author that is now so painfully missed.

We turn away from this revolting stupidity, but nowhere a pleasing sign to allay our anguish, or appease our grief-stricken heart.

"Oh, thou monstrous ignorance, how deformed dost thou look."

Nowhere freedom of humane thought. Everyone compelled to think as ecclesiastical authority orders him to think. In Germany, France and Northern Spain we find scarcely one priest out of a thousand who can write his name. In Rome itself, once the city of art and culture and learning, as late as 992, a reliable authority informs us, there is not a priest to be found who knows the first elements of letters. In England, King Alfred informs us that he cannot recollect a single priest south of the Thames (then the most civilized part of England) who at the time of his accession understood or could translate the ordinary Latin prayer, and that the homilies which they preached were compiled for their use by some bishop from former works of the same kind, or from the early Patristic writings. Throughout Christendom we find no restraint on the ordination of persons absolutely illiterate, no rules to exclude the ignorant from ecclesiastical preferment, no inclination and no power to make it obligatory upon even the mitred dignitaries, to be able to read a line from those Scriptures which they are to teach and preach as the rule of right and the guide to moral conduct. Darkness, intense darkness, stupendous ignorance everywhere. We shudder as we think of the cruelties which this ignorance will bequeath as its curse upon mankind. We shudder as we think of how this ignorance needs must check the advance of civilization. We know that knowledge will not be fettered forever, but before it shall be able to assert its right to sway over the mind of men, countless giant minds will have to be crushed and indescribable suffering will have to be endured. We know that "ignorance seldom vaults into knowledge, but passes into it through an intermediate state of obscurity, even as night into day through twilight." We tremble for those independent spirits that shall live during that transitory period. That twilight will be reddened by the reflection of streams of human blood.

We fain would speed away from these European lands, for we instinctively feel that we are in lands under the curse of God, and smitten with darkness, because their people had laid cruel hands upon the lands and the people of learning and culture and art.

But we must stay. We must note, distressing though the duty be, the terrible influence which this ignorance exercised upon the morals of the Church itself, and upon the mental and moral and political and social and industrial state of the people.

---

CHAPTER III.
EUROPE DURING THE DARK AGES.
(CONTINUED.)

GROSS SUPERSTITIONS.—A CRUCIFIX THAT SHED TEARS OF BLOOD.—THE VIRGIN'S HOUSE CARRIED THROUGH THE AIR BY ANGELS.—SATAN IN THE FORM OF A BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.—SCENES IN HELL.—THE BURNING OF WITCHES.—A KING WHO CANNOT WRITE HIS NAME.—FEUDAL LORDS AS HIGHWAY ROBBERS.—THE SERFDOM OF THE PEASANTS.—RETURN TO CORDOVA.

We promised to make a careful examination into the influence which the ignorance of the clergy exercised upon the aspect of religion, upon the morals of the Church, and upon the social, industrial, political, moral and mental state of the people at large. We fear we made a rash promise. So heart-rending are the sights we see, if we are to give a faithful report, those unacquainted with the state of European civilization during the period which we are traversing, we fear, may accuse us of exaggeration, or worse still, may think that we, who belong to the race that suffered most during that period from the corruption of the Church, are animated by a spirit of revenge, and, therefore, find intense delight in holding so revolting a picture before our readers. But, happily, our readers are not composed of such. We are addressing intelligent people, men and women who know that our people have suffered too terribly and too unjustly from false accusations during many, many centuries, to render ourselves guilty of the same crime; men and women who know, that it is not from choice, but from historic necessity, that we contrast the social, and moral and intellectual state of Christian Europe during the Dark Ages, with the social and moral and intellectual state of Moorish and Jewish Europe of the same period, to appreciate the better the wonderful civilization of "The Jews and Moors in Spain."

Our search discloses to us the sad and terrible truth that ignorance, especially active ignorance, is the mother of superstition, and both the parents of fanaticism, and the offspring of this trio is deliberate imposture, extortion, corruption, crime, and these, in their turn, beget the world's misfortunes. This sad truth stares us in the face whatever church, cathedral, monastery or community we enter. Everywhere miracles and relics and idolatry. Everywhere the teaching and preaching of hell and Satan and witchcraft, and of the necessity of blind credulity and unquestioning belief. Every cathedral and monastery has its tutelar saint, and every saint his legend, and wondrous accounts are spread concerning the saint's power, for good or evil, often fabricated to enrich the church or monastery under his protection.

In Dublin we see the crucifix that sheds tears of blood. In Loretto we see the house once inhabited by the Virgin, and we were told, that some angels, chancing to be at Nazareth when the Saracen conquerors approached, fearing that the sacred relic might fall into their possession, took the house bodily in their hands, and, carrying it through the air, deposited it at its present place. In Bavaria they show us the brazen android which Albertus Magnus had so cunningly contrived as to serve him for a domestic, and whose garrulity had so much annoyed the studious Thomas Aquinas. In Alsace the abbot Martin shows us the following inestimable relics, which he had obtained for his monastery: a spot of the blood of Jesus, a piece of the true cross, the arm of the apostle James, part of the skeleton of John the Baptist, a bottle of milk of the blessed Virgin, and, with an ill-disguised envy, he told us that a finger of the Holy Ghost is preserved in a monastery at Jerusalem.

Everywhere we are told that the arch fiend and his innumerable legions of demons are forever hovering about us, seeking our present unhappiness and the future ruin of mankind; that we are at no time, and at no place, safe from them; that we cannot be sufficiently on our guard against them, for sometimes they assume the shape of a grotesque and hideous animal; sometimes they appear in the shape of our nearest and dearest relatives and friends; sometimes as a beautiful woman, alluring by more than human charms, the unwary to their destruction, and laying plots, which were but too often successful against the virtue of the saints; sometimes the Evil One assumes the shape of a priest, and, in order to bring discredit upon that priest's character, maliciously visits, in this saintly disguise, some very questionable places and allows himself to be caught in most disgraceful situations and environments. Can we imagine an invention more ingenius to hide the foul practices of the corrupt among the clergy?

Everywhere the clergy finds it a very profitable traffic to teach how the people might protect themselves against the Evil One. The sign of the cross, a few drops of Holy water, the name of the Virgin, the Gospel of St. John around the neck, a rosary, a relic of Christ or of a saint, suffice to baffle the utmost efforts of diabolic malice, and to put the Spirits of Evil to an immediate and ignominious flight.

There is not a Church, not a monastery that we enter, but that our blood is chilled at its fountain, as we gaze upon the ghastly paintings, representing the horrible tortures of hell, placed conspicuously for the contemplation of the faithful, or for the fear of the wicked, or for the gain of the clergy—for the heavier the purse the church receives, the surer the release. It is impossible to conceive more ghastly conceptions of the future world than these pictures evinced, or more hideous calumnies against that Being, who was supposed to inflict upon His creatures such unspeakable misery. On one picture the devil is represented bound by red-hot chains, on a burning gridiron in the center of hell. His hands are free, and with these he seizes the lost souls, crushes them like grapes against his teeth, and then draws them by his breath down the fiery cavern of his throat. Demons with hooks of red-hot iron, plunge souls alternately into fire and ice. Some of the lost are hung by their tongues, others are sawn asunder, others are gnawed by serpents, others are beaten together on an anvil, and welded into a single mass, others are boiled and strained through a cloth, others are twined in the embraces of demons whose limbs are of flames. But not only the guilty are represented suffering thus, but also the innocent, who expiate amidst heart-rending tortures the guilt of their fathers.[1] A little boy is represented in his suffering. His eyes are burning like two burning coals. Two long flashes come out of his ears. Blazing fire rolls out of his mouth. An infant is represented roasting in a hot oven. It turns and twists, it beats its head against the roof of the oven in agony of its suffering.

Unable to gaze upon the scene of innocent suffering any longer, we turn from it, trembling with rage. We ask a priest, who chances to be near, what fiend could calumniate thus the good God? And smoothly he replies:

"God was very good to this child. Very likely God saw it would get worse and worse and would never repent, and so it would have to be punished much more in hell. So God, in his mercy, called it out of the world in its early childhood."[2]

We no longer wonder at the stupidity of the people, at the enormous wealth, and still greater power of the clergy, when we remember that the people were inoculated with the belief that the clergy alone could save them from such eternal tortures, and that money was the safest and most potent redeemer, and the never failing mediator for effacing the most monstrous crimes, and for securing ultimate happiness.

We turn from these frightful sights only to encounter more terrible scenes of misery. So far we had gazed upon purely imaginary suffering, now we encounter the real, the intensely real. Everywhere we see the sky lurid from the reflection of the autos da fe, on which thousands of innocently accused victims, suffer the most agonizing and protracted torments, without exciting the faintest compassion. Everywhere we hear the prison walls re-echo the piercing shrieks of women, suffering the tortures preceding their conviction as witches. And once, it was in Scotland, we were the unfortunate spectators of a sight which we never shall forget. While the act of burning witches was being preformed amidst religious ceremonies, with a piercing yell some of the women, half burnt, broke from the slow fire that consumed them, struggled for a few moments with despairing energy among the spectators, until, with wild protestations of innocence, they sank writhing in agony, breathing their last.

And why are these women burnt by the thousands, everywhere, in Germany, France, Spain, Italy, Flanders, Sweden, England, Scotland and Ireland? Because they had entered into a deliberate compact with Satan. They had been seen riding at midnight through the air on a broomstick or on a goat. They had worked miracles thus infringing upon the monopoly of the saints—or had afflicted the country with comets, hailstorms, plagues, or their neighbors with disease or barrenness. And who invents so malicious a falsehood? Often the victims themselves, for, suspected or accused of witchcraft they are at once subjected to tortures, to force a confession of their guilt, and these are so terrible, that death is a release, and so they confess, whatever the witch-courts want them to confess. Many a husband cuts thus the marriage tie which his church had pronounced indissoluble. Many a dexterous criminal directs a charge of witchcraft against his accuser, and thus escapes with impunity.

Everywhere we find the whole body of the clergy, from pope to priest, busy in the chase for gain; what escapes the bishop is snapped up by the archdeacon, what escapes the archdeacon is nosed and hunted down by the dean, while a host of minor officials prowl hungrily around these great marauders. To give money to the priest is everywhere regarded as the first article of the moral code. In seasons of sickness, of danger, of sorrow, or of remorse, whenever the fear or the conscience of the worshiper is awakened he is taught to purchase the favor of the saint. St. Eligus gives us this definition of a good Christian: "He who comes frequently to church, who presents an oblation that it may be offered to God on the altar, who does not taste the fruits of his land till he has consecrated a part of them to God, who offers presents and tithes to churches, that on the judgment day he may be able to say: "Give unto us Lord for we have given unto Thee;" who redeems his soul from punishment, and finally who can repeat the creeds or the Lord's prayer."

Bad as we find their greed, we find their moral corruption indescribably worse. Void of every sting of conscience, drunken, lost in sensuality and open immorality. In Italy, a bishop informs us, that were he to enforce the canons against unchaste people administering ecclesiastical rites, no one would be left in the Church, except the boys. Everywhere, clergymen, sworn to celibacy, take out their "culagium," their license to keep concubines, and more than one council, and more than one ecclesiastical writer we find speaking of priestly corruption far greater than simple concubinage, prominently among whom they mention, Pope John XXIII, abbot elect of St. Augustine, at Canterbury, the abbot of St. Pelayo, in Spain, Henry III Bishop of Liege, and they enumerate the countless nunneries, that are degraded into brothels, and are flagrant for their frequent infanticides.

There is scarcely a need for our reporting concerning the influence, which this moral depravity of the Church has upon the masses. We find that the ignorance and the corruption and the bigotry made the people fully as ignorant and corrupt and vicious. The pernicious doctrine already adopted in the fourth century, that it is an act of virtue to deceive and lie, when by that means the interests of the church might be promoted,[3] leads the people to the conclusion that nothing can be possibly wrong, which leads to the promotion of the Church's interests and finances. And so crimes are perpetrated, wrongs committed, deceptions practiced, vice indulged without a pang of conscience, or a throb of the gentler emotions. Ignorance deadens every finer feeling, and religion, instead, of elevating man's moral nature, crushes it by the opportunities it offers for canceling crime with money, and for saving the soul from eternal torture and damnation by increasing the clergy's opportunities for debauchery.

We next look for the intellectual accomplishments, but we look in vain. The masses are intensely ignorant. The clergy can not instruct them, neither would they, if they could. Knowledge among the masses would have seriously interfered with their all-controlling power, as it really did in later centuries. This ignorance is fully shared by the secular chiefs of the land. Kings repudiate book-learning as unworthy of the crown, and warlike nobles despise it as disgraceful to the sword. It is a rare thing, and not considered an accomplishment, to find a warrior who can read or write. To suppose that he can write is to insult him by mistaking him for an ecclesiastic. No less a personage than Philippe le Bel, the powerful monarch of United France who conducts foreign wars and exterminates the Templars, signs his name with the sign of the cross or a rude arrow head, as late as the thirteenth century. Let us not forget, that nearly three hundred years earlier in the world's history, we had found public schools, academies, universities, libraries, poets, artists, scientists and philosophers flourishing among the Moors and Jews of Cordova—had seen Al Hakem the Caliph, writing a digest on the fly-leaves of the contents of each of his books in his great library.

We next look for the Industries, and there is little to be found that can be honored with that name. A belief prevails among the people that the millenium, the end of the world, will set in, amidst terrible sufferings at the year 1000. This belief stifles industry, and property and wealth are turned over to the Church for the sake of the soul's release. Next come the Crusades and these sap Europe of the flower of its people, who leave by the thousands and hundreds of thousands (and of which numbers but few return), to keep the Moslems out of Jerusalem, while the aged and the infirm, the women and children, eke out a miserable existence at home, feeding on beans, vetches, roots, bark of trees—often horseflesh and mare's milk furnish a delicious repast. During the intervals between the various Crusades those few who return, are so accustomed to their roving and plundering life that it is impossible for them to settle down to mechanical or industrial pursuits.

The Jews devote themselves almost exclusively to the industries, and for this they suffer much. Commerce is not safe. The feudal lords descend from their fortresses to pillage the merchant's goods. The highways are besieged by licensed robbers, who confiscate the merchandise, murder the owners, or sell them as slaves, or exact enormous ransoms. Might makes right, and the most powerful are the most distinguished for their unscrupulous robberies. Their castles, erected on almost inaccessible heights among the pathless woods, become the secure receptacles of predatory bands, who spread terror over the country and make traffic and enterprise insecure and next to impossible. And as it is on land so it is at sea, where a vessel is never secure from an attack of the pirates, and where neither restitution nor punishment of the criminals is obtained from governments, which sometimes fear the plunderer and sometimes connive at the offense.

The political state of Europe we find still worse. The word liberty has not yet found its way into the dictionaries of the people. By far the greater part of society is everywhere bereaved of its personal liberty.

Everyone that is not Noble is a slave. Warfare is the rule of the day. The Church tramples upon kings and nobles; these, in their turn, such is the prestige of the feudal system, tyrannize over the next lower order, the next lower order apes the example of its superior upon its inferior, and so on from lower to lower caste, till the lowest, the peasants, who have sunk into a qualified slavery called serfdom. The fight for supremacy between Church and State, the dreadful oppression of the several orders of feudalism, convulses society with their perennial feuds, the pride of the countries are either cruelly butchered or employed more frequently in laying waste the fields of their rivals, or putting the destructive firebrand, or the ruthless sword upon the prosperity of their foe, than improving their own.

Let this report, meager as it is, suffice. The ignorance and misery and suffering and cruelties that abound everywhere are too revolting to tempt a longer stay. Like Ajax, we pray for light. Away from the jaws of darkness.

Ye sailors, ho! furl your sails, raise the anchor, clear the harbor. And thou goodly vessel, staunch and strong, hie thee straight across the foaming deep. And thou, O Aeolus, blow cheerily and lustily thy southern winds upon us. And thou, O Neptune, speed thou our course, haste us back again to fair Andalusia, to beauteous Cordova, for there is no spot on earth like Cordova, "the city of the seven gates," "the tent of Islam," "the abode of the learned," "the meeting place of the eminent," the city of parks and palaces, aqueducts and public baths, the city of chivalrous knights and enchanting ladies.

Aeolus and Neptune answer our prayer. The goodly ship she spins along. "She walks the waters like a thing of life." Soon the lands we eager seek will be descried, and, once again upon the sunny shore, we shall continue our observations, and freely share them with our friend upon Columbia's virgin soil.

---

CHAPTER IV.
OUR RETURN TO CORDOVA.

CORDOVA AT DAY-BREAK.—THE MOHAMMEDAN SABBATH.—THE YOUTH OF CORDOVA DISPORTS ITSELF UPON THE WATER.—SONG.—CHALLENGE BETWEEN OARSMAN.—THE MUEZZIN'S CALL.—THE GREAT MOSQUE.—A SERMON.—CHASDAI IBN SHAPRUT, THE JEWISH MINISTER TO THE CALIPH.—DUNASH IBN LABRAT.—ON THE WAY TO ABDALLAH IBN XAMRI, THE MOORISH POET.

Again our light-winged boat glides upon the broad and silvery bosom of the majestic Guadalquiver, along parks filled with flowering shrubs, along glittering palaces and song-resounding woods, along palmy islets, and sweet scented and crimson-tinted hills.

It is an early spring morning, nearly 1,000 years back in the world's history. Our boat makes a sudden turn, and Cordova, all glistening in the morning dew, raises her head as if from a bath in the crystal stream. Aurora, goddess of the dawn, blushes in the sky, and with her rosy fingers she sports playfully with the golden tresses of Andalusia's fairest daughter. It is morn,

"When the magic of daylight awakes

A new wonder each moment, as slowly it breaks;

Hills, cupolas, fountains, called forth everyone

Out of darkness, as if but just born of the sun."

It is with difficulty that our agile oarsman, the raven-locked and graceful featured Jewish youth, whose services as guide we have again secured, makes his way among the countless pleasure boats that ply to and fro. We marvel at this, for distinctly we remember how the broad stream was furrowed during our first visit by boats of traffic only. "It is Friday, the Mohammedan Sabbath," our guide informs us, and we no longer wonder. The boats, some gilded, some festooned, some decked with the richest tapestry, are peopled with gay and happy pleasure seekers. The whole youth of Cordova seems to disport itself upon the water. The air re-echoes their merry laughters and their music:

"From psaltery, pipe and lutes of heavenly thrill,

Or there own youthful voices, heavenlier still."

The winged chorister of the woods and parks take up the refrain, and warble their sweetest, as if in contest with voices human for supremacy in song. But what is most strange and most charming is the continual challenge between the oarsmen for repartee songs, which are either extemporized at the moment, or quotations from their numerous poets. A boat crosses our path, stays our course, and its oarsman to test our guide's readiness to sing Cordova's praise, thus begins in the sweet tones of the poetic Arabic tongue:

"Do not talk of the court of Bagdad and its glittering magnificence.

Do not praise Persia and China, and their manifold advantages,

For there is no spot on earth like Cordova,

Nor in the whole world beauties like its beauties."

To which our guide instantly replies, with a sweet and pure tenor voice:

"O, my beloved Cordova!

Where shall I behold thine equal.

Thou art like an enchanted spot,

Thy fields are luxuriant gardens,

Thy earth of various colors

Resembles a flock of rose colored amber."

The challenging oarsman had met his peer. He is pleased with the reply and clears the path. Now our oarsman impedes the path of a boat, and taking for his theme, "The Ladies," challenges its oarsman thus:

"Bright is the gold and fair the pearl,

But brighter, fairer, thou, sweet girl.

Jacinths and emeralds of the mine,

Radiant as sun and moon may shine,

But what are all their charms to thine?"

To which the challenged replies:

"The Maker's stores have beauties rare,

But none that can with thee compare,

O pearl, that God's own hand hath made;

Earth, sky and sea,

Compare with thee,

See all their splendors sink in shade."

We have reached the landing place. Again we tread in the streets of Cordova, that had surprised and delighted us so much during our first visit. We have not advanced far, when suddenly there breaks on our ear a voice, loud and mighty, as never heard before. We look in the direction whence the voice comes, and on the graceful balcony around the "minaret"—the "muezzin," who calleth, with a solemn power in his living voice, which neither flag, trumpet, bell nor fire could simulate or rival, the Faithful thus to prayer:

"Come to prayer! Come to prayer! Come to the Temple of Salvation! Great God! Great God! There is no God except God!"

At the sound of the muezzin's call, the throngs that crowd the streets hasten their steps, while some few stop, and turning towards the Kiblah—(point of the heaven in the direction of Mecca, which is indicated by the position of the minarets,) either prostrate themselves upon the ground, or, folding their arms across their bosom, bow their turbaned head to the ground, and raise their heart and voice to Allah. Five times, every day, our guide informs us, the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer. Those who are thus worshiping publicly upon the streets, are for some reasons prevented from attending the mosque, and the Koran allows them to pray in any clean place, and the streets of Cordova are clean indeed. Prayer is great with the Moors, our guide continues. Mohammed has laid great stress upon its efficacy and importance. "It is the pillar of religion and the key to paradise," said he. "Angels come among you both by night and day, when they ascend to heaven God asks them how they left his creatures. We found them, say they, at their prayers, and we left them at their prayers." Even the postures to be observed in prayer he had prescribed. Females in prayer are not to stretch forth their arms, but to hold them on their bosoms. They are not to make as deep inflexions as the men. They are to pray in a low and gentle tone of voice. They are not permitted to accompany the men to the mosque, lest the mind of the worshipers should be drawn from their devotions. Neither are they allowed to worship together with the men. They have their gallery in the mosque fenced in with latticework. No one is permitted to go to prayer decked with costly ornaments or clothed in sumptuous apparel.

While listening to our guide, our feet unconsciously followed the hastening throngs, and before we were aware of it we stood before the "mezquita," the great mosque, the famous edifice which, with its buildings and courts, covers more space than any place of worship in existence, the rival of the Caaba at Mecca, and of the Alaksa of Jerusalem. Like all Moorish architecture, its exterior is very plain. Our guide gives us its dimensions; it is 642 feet long and 440 wide. The height of the Alminar tower is 250 feet.

This is Friday, the "Yawn al Yoma" the great day of assembly for worship, the Mohammedan Sabbath, sacred because on that day man was created, because that day had already been consecrated by the early Arabians to "Astarte," Venus, the most beautiful of the planets and the brightest of the stars; and, also because from that day, Friday (July 16, 622,) the day of the Hegira, begins the Mohammedan calendar. Our guide assures us that there are special services on Friday, that on this day the Mufti expounds some chapters from the Koran, and the "Imaum" (preacher,) delivers a "Khotbeh" (sermon).

We enter through one of the nineteen lofty and massive bronze gates, and the beauties we now behold baffle description.

The "Kiblah" is reached by nineteen aisles, marked by columns of jasper, beryl, verd-antique, porphyry, finely carved, supporting in two directions double horseshoe arches, one above the other. These are crossed by thirty-eight aisles, also composed of columns of different marbles, making thus literally a forest of columns. The ceiling is filled with ovals inscribed with appropriate inscriptions from the Koran, to call the mind of the faithful to contemplation and devotion. From it are suspended 280 chandeliers, which light the vast space with upwards of 10,000 lights.

The "Al Mihrab" at the "Kiblah" end of the mosque is an octagonal niche, the ceiling of which is formed like a shell out of a single block of white marble. Within it is the Shrine of Shrines, containing one of the original copies of the Koran, the one which lay upon the lap of Othman, the third Caliph, our guide tells us, when he was assassinated; it is stained with his life blood. It lies upon a lecturn of aloe wood, put together with golden nails. The doors of the shrine are pure gold, the floor solid silver, inlaid with gold and lapis lazuli. In front of it is the pulpit made of costly woods, inlaid with ivory and enriched with jewels; the nails joining its parts are also of gold and silver. It is the gilt of the Caliph, and the cost exceeds $1,000,000. The Caliph himself drew the plan of the entire edifice, and assisted daily with his own hands in its erection.

Within the mosque there is a court 220 feet long, containing promenades which invite to devout meditations, and reservoirs and fountains for their ablution, for, as our guide informs us, ablution is enjoined by the Koran, with great precision as preparative to prayer; purity of body being considered emblematical of purity of soul.

There is not a seat in the entire edifice; the worshipers are either prostrated upon the floor, which is artistically paved with marble mosaics, or they stand profoundly bent in reverence.[4]

As the Mufti, his careful ablutions being completed, approaches the "Al Mihrab," to take from its sacred Shrine the copy of the Koran, all prostrate themselves on the ground. He opens the book, and with a loud voice he reads the first "sura," chapter:

"Bismillah"—in the name of the most merciful God. Praise be to God, the Lord of all creatures, the Most Merciful, the King of the Day of Judgment. Thee do we worship, and of Thee do we beg assistance. Direct us in the right way, in the way of those to whom Thou hast been gracious; not of those against whom thou art incensed, not of those who go astray.

To which the whole congregation responds:

"God, there is no God but He, the Living, the Ever Living; He sleepeth not, neither doth He slumber. To Him belongeth the Heavens and the earth, and all that they contain. He knoweth the Past and the Future, but no one can comprehend anything of this knowledge but that which He revealeth. His sway extendeth over the Heavens and the Earth, and to sustain them both is no burden to Him. He is the high, the mighty. There is no God besides Him, and "Mohammed Resul Allah" Mohammed is the prophet of God."[5] The Mufti now expounds a chapter from the Koran, and at the end of each of its lessons the whole congregation responds, "Amin!" "So be it."

The "Imaum" ascends the pulpit to preach his sermon. He bases his theme upon the chapter just expounded. He speaks of faith and practice, of faith in God, in his angels, in his Koran, in his prophets, in the resurrection and final judgement, in predestination. "Angels," he says, keep continual watch upon each mortal, one on the right hand, the other on the left, taking note of every word or action. At the close of each day they fly up to heaven to write up their report. Every good action is recorded ten times by the good angel on the right, and if the mortal commit a sin the same benevolent spirit says to the angel on the left: "Forbear for seven hours to record it; peradventure he may repent and pray and obtain forgiveness."

He enjoins a reverence for the Al Koran, and a scrupulous obedience to its precepts. In it are written all the decrees of God, and all events past, present or to come. It had existed from all eternity and was treasured up in the seventh heaven, and its contents were finally revealed to Mohammed by the Angel Gabriel.

He speaks of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, as prophets subordinate to Mohammed, whose life and preceipts are worthy of following.

He speaks of predestination, and says that every event is predetermined by God, that the destiny of every individual and the hour of his death are irrevocably fixed, and can neither be varied nor evaded, by any effort of human sagacity or foresight.

He reconciles fate and free-will by saying: "The outline is given us we color the picture of life as we will."

He speakes of Charity, and says that every one must dispense, in one way or the other, a tenth of his revenue in the relief of the indigent or distressed. He speakes of the great virtue of fasting and says: "Prayer leads us half way to God, fastening conveys us to His threshold and alms conducts us into His presence." He enjoins the doing of good and the shunning of evil, and above all an observance of the golden rule.

"If these precepts ye obey," he concludes, "the pleasures of Paradise will be your reward. There you will be clothed in raiments sparkling with jewels. You will wear crowns of gold enriched with pearls and diamonds, and dwell in sumptuous palaces or silken pavilions, reclining in voluptuous couches. Hundreds of attendants, bearing dishes and goblets of gold, will serve you with every variety of exquisite viands and beverage, whenever and in whatever quantity you shall want them. There the air, fragrant with the sweetest perfume, resounds with the melodious voices of the Daughters of Paradise. There, besides your wives you had on earth, who will rejoin you in all their pristine charms, black-eyed Hooreeyahs (Houris) having complexions like rubies and pearls, resplendent beings, free from every human defect or frailty, perpetually retaining their youth and beauty, will constantly attend you, and cheerfully obey your wishes."

"But woe unto you if ye harken not to the words of Allah and Mohammed his prophet! When ye shall pass the bridge, Al Sirat, which is finer than a hair and sharper than a sword, it will break beneath the burden of your sins, and precipitate you into the shadow and smoke and fire of hell."

With a prayer for the welfare of the Caliph and the entire government, the "khotbeh" is ended and the congregation dismissed.

We know that the Moors and Jews are Oriental people, and, therefore, not indigenous to the Occidental soil they now inhabit. Whence came they? Why came they? We are eager for a correct answer to these questions, and knowing none of Cordova's learned men, we think of our distinguished co-religionist. Abu Jussuf Chasdai ben Isaac Ibn Shaprut, the Jewish Physician, Philologist, Minister of Foreign Affairs, of Commerce and Finance to the learned Abder Rahman, and Nasi, or secular chief, of all European Jews. We take the heart to visit him, and with the aid of our guide, we soon are admitted into the house. There we learn that Chasdai Ibn Shaprut had just been summoned to a secret consultation with the Caliph concerning an important embassy that had come from Otto I, Emperor of Germany. We are asked to await his return in his library. There, we are introduced to Moses ben Chanoch, the distinguished Talmudist, to his pupil, Joseph ben Abitur, the translator of the Mishnah into Arabic for the Caliph's library, to Menachem ben Saruk, the grammarian and compiler of the first Hebrew lexicon, and to Dunash ben Labrat, the distinguished poet, who were pursuing their respective studies in the magnificent library of Chasdai, the Jewish favorite Minister to the Caliph.

---

We state our wish, and Dunash ben Labrat thus replies:

"We know not when our distinguished Nasi will return. If, indeed, it be agreeable to you, I will ask you to accompany me to my friend Abdallah Ibn Xamri, the famous Moorish poet and erudite historian, with whom I have arranged a game of chess for this afternoon's siesta. He will, I know, give you such information concerning the history of the Arab-Moors as you may desire. When this shall have been done, we shall make our way back again, Chasdai will have returned, and he will gladly give you an account of the Entrance of the Jews into Spain."

We cheerfully accept his kind proposal. We are on our way now, and in the following chapter we shall faithfully report all that we shall see and hear.

---

CHAPTER V.
THE ARAB-MOORS.

ABDALLAH TELLS THE EARLY HISTORY OF THE ARABS.—MIRACLES AT THE BIRTH OF MOHAMMED.—THE ANGEL, GABRIEL, WRITES THE KORAN UPON PALM LEAVES.—TEN DECISIVE YEARS IN THE HISTORY OF RELIGION.—BEAUTIFUL ZELICA.—ARAB-MOORS CHECKED IN THEIR CONQUEST.—QUARREL BETWEEN KING RODERICK AND COUNT JULIEN, FATHER OF THE INSULTED FLORINDA.—JEWS ALLY WITH THE WRONGED FATHER.—ANDALUSIA CONQUERED.

In a beautiful valley on the banks of the Guadalquivir, about five miles from Cordova, within sight of the Caliph's magnificent palace of Medina-al-Zohar (town of the flower) stands the picturesque residence of the Moorish poet, Abdallah Ibn Xamri. Dunash ben Labrat, the distinguished Jewish poet, our new found friend and guide, has no need for a formal announcement. A massive bronze gate opens into a beautifully paved court yard, from the center of which issues the never-failing fountain jet to a dazzling height, diffusing refreshing coolness and making a pleasant patter of the falling drops into the basin. A gallery encircles this court, supported by slender columns of alabaster, from which spring numbers of graceful horseshoe arches. The interspaces above the arches are filled with arabesques, interwreathing striking texts from the Koran in brilliant red and blue and gold. Above these are the latticed windows which light the seraglio.

From this luxurious court we pass through a double archway into another, abounding with tropical plants. Here within the concealment of the densest shade trees, is a very long oblong marble basin, supplied with artificially cooled water. Here, in the early morning and in the evening twilight, the indolent, the warm, the weary bathe in luxurious languor. Here the women meet to disport themselves, while the entrances are guarded by eunuchs against intrusion. From this private court a postern leads into a beautiful garden with mazy walks and blooming parterres, replete with artificial grottoes and kiosks of stained glass, and terraces of polished marbles, and balustrades supported by guilded columns, and ponds filled with gold and silver fishes.

"Here we shall find Abdallah Ibn Xamri," says Dunash ben Labrat; "he delights to take his siesta within yonder pavilion, which is well provided with books and musical instruments. There his beautiful daughter Zelica tunes the lyre as he courts the muses, and her melodious voice has inspired his most wondrous lyric gems."

Abdallah recognizes Dunash's voice, and bids him enter. We obey the summons. Surprise is visible in Abdallah's countenance as he gazes upon our strange faces. Before us stands a typical Moor. His person is well formed. He has an oval face, aquiline nose, long and arched eyebrow, nearly meeting, large restless black eyes, smooth skin, clear olive complexion, full dark hair and beard, and an elastic springy step. His head is covered with a green woolen cap of cylindrical form from which hangs a blue tassel. Over a long straight robe of light cloth, he wears a shorter tunic, elaborately embroidered. Sandals are tied to his feet with strings of twisted silver and gold.

We exchange Salams. Our friend introduces us. In measured rhyme he states that he had brought us to Cordova's distinguished son of the muses to learn from the most authentic source the "History of the entrance of the Arab-Moors into Spain." Abdallah receives us cordially, asks us to recline upon the divan—the cushioned seats running along the walls of the pavilion—he takes his reclining position opposite us, and after a few introductory remarks he speaks as follows:

"The great peninsula, formed by the Red Sea, by the Euphrates, by the Gulf of Persia and by the Indian ocean, and known by the name of Arabia, is the birthplace of our creed. It was peopled soon after the deluge by the children of Shem, the son of Noah. In course of time the brave Yarab established the kingdom of Yemen, whence the Arabs derive the names of themselves and their country. During a long succession of ages, extending from the earliest period of recorded history down to the seventh century, Arabia remained unchanged and unaffected by the events which convulsed the rest of Asia and shook Europe and Africa to their very center. The occupations of the people were trade and agriculture. The former had ports along the coasts, and carried on foreign trade by means of ships and caravans. The nomadic Arabs were the more numerous of the two. The necessity of being always on the alert to defend their flocks and herds made these familiar from their infancy, with the exercise of arms. No one could excel them in the use of the bow, the lance and the scimitar, and the adroit and graceful management of the horse. They were more at home on horseback than on foot. The horse was their friend and companion. They lived and talked with him and lavished upon him their dearest affection, and both were capable of sustaining great fatigue and hardship. The Arabs possessed in an eminent degree the intellectual attributes of the Shemitic race. Penetrating sagacity, subtle wit, a ready conception, a brilliant imagination, a proud and daring spirit were stamped upon their sallow visage, and flashed from their dark and kindling eye. Our language, naturally poetic, made them poets and the most eloquent of men. They were generous and hospitable. Their deadliest foe, having once broken bread with them, could repose securely beneath the inviolable sanctity of their tent. Their religion originally consisted of a belief in the unity of God, in future life, in the necessity of prayer and virtue. This was the creed of Abraham and was brought to them by Ishmael and Hagar. In the course of time it became contaminated with Sabean star worship and Magian idolatry."

"When Palestine was ravaged by the Romans, and the city of Jerusalem taken and sacked, many of the Jews took refuge among them, and gradually many of the tenets of the Jewish faith and practices of the Jewish worship were again insensibly adopted by them. The same refuge Arabia offered later to many Christians who were fleeing from the persecutions of Rome, and these also engrafted gradually, some of their rites and ceremonies and beliefs upon the people. The result was a mixture of religious beliefs, the highest religious principles alternating with the most degrading idolatries. There was no accepted creed, no unified faith."

A great reformer was needed, and the great Allah sent his prophet, Mohammed, to establish the only true faith: Islamism. His birth was accompanied by signs and portents, announcing a child of wonder.[6] At the moment of his coming into the world, a celestial light, illuminated the surrounding country, and the new-born child, raising his eyes to heaven, exclaimed "God is great! There is no God but God, and I am his Prophet." Heaven and earth were agitated at his advent. Palaces, and temples and mountains toppled to the earth. The fires, sacred to Zoroaster, which had burned, without interruption for upwards of a thousand years, were suddenly extinguished, and all the idols in the world fell down. Though his true Messiahship was thus made evident at his birth, and in his youth, he still waited to the age of fully ripened manhood before he made the attempt of establishing the creed, which the angel Gabriel had written down for him upon palm leaves. But when the time had come for raising his own nation from fetichism, from the adoration of a meteoric stone, and from the basest idol worship, he awakened his people out of their religious and political torpor, kindled the fire of enthusiasm among them, and they thirsted after opportunities for contest and conquests.

---

When death took the sword from his hand ten years later, the whole world trembled at the very mention of his name.

---

Here Abdallah pauses in his narrative. He touches a silver bell, and soon a maiden appears. This is the first time that we are permitted to gaze upon a Moorish woman's face; those we met in the streets or parks, or saw behind the latticework of the woman's gallery in the mosque, were always clothed in the mantilla, which encircled their entire form, and their faces were always hidden under the face veil, or under the horsehair vizard, which left but the eyes visible. She wears her hair braided. A light cap or cornet, adorned with gems, forms the covering for her head. The side locks are entwined with coral beads, hung loosely to chinck with every movement. Full white muslin trousers are tied at the ankle with golden strings that end in merry little silver bells. A long full white mantle of transparent muslin covers the tight-fitting vest and jacket of silk, both of brilliant colors, and embroidered and decorated with woven gold. Around her neck and arms and wrists she wears chains, necklaces and bracelets, of gold, and of coral and pearls and amber.

He whispers something in her ear, and immediately she disappears, light as an angel shape. A deep silence ensues. At that moment we think not of Mohammed, the founder of a new faith and the conqueror of the world, but of Zelica, Abdallah's daughter, that beauteous maiden, whose complexion vies with the rubies and white jasmine flowers she wears more radiant still when her dazzling eyes drooped, and when the scarlet hue of innocence mantled her face as her glance met the eyes of men and strangers.

Abdallah had ordered refreshments. Servants appear and spread an embroidered rug upon the floor. Upon it they place a low tray, set with silver and fine earthenware, and provided with the choicest of fruits, confections and sherbets flavored with violet. Low cushions are placed around it, upon which we, following the example of our host and guide, seat ourselves with our legs crossed. Before eating, a servant pours water on our hands from a basin and ewer. The meal begins with "Bismilah" for grace. A very interesting conversation, displaying great learning and much reading, is carried on between the two poets, as to whether Cordova or Bagdad leads the world in literature, art, science, and philosophy. Abdallah champions Cordova, Dunash favors Bagdad, his native home.

The delicious repast is ended. The floor is cleared, Abdallah resumes his narrative.

"The successors of Mohammed," says he, "followed in the footsteps of our prophet. They passed beyond the confines of Arabia, and persecuted their work of converting the world, giving to the conquered the choice between the Koran, or Tribute, or Death. In less than fifty years after the Prophet's death, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, Mesopotamia, Persia, Armenia, Asia Minor had accepted the religion of Mohammed. In Jerusalem a mosque stood on the site where once the temple of Solomon stood. In Alexandria the Mohammedans wrought direful vengeance on Christians for the crimes which the arrogant and fanatical St. Cyril had committed there two centuries before, by extirpating Grecian learning and by inciting his monks to murder the wise Hypatia."

The extreme northern part of Africa brought their armies to a sudden halt. Here they encounter two strong foes. First, the people called Berbers "the Noble," a tall, noble looking race of men, active, high-spirited and indomitable. They had the same patriarchal habits, the same Shemitic features, were equally skilled in the use of arms and the breeding and handling of horses, and so the Arabs believed them to be of their own race. This Northern coast of Africa has been called by the Romans, from the dark complexion of its people: Mauritania, and its people were called Mooriscos, or Moors. When the superior force of the Arabians compelled the Moors to submit at last, the conquerors and the conquered coalesced so completely, that in less than a decade the one could not be distinguished from the other.

"The second foe, however, who inhabited the Northern extremity of Almagreb, where the continent of Africa protrudes boldly to meet the continent of Europe, was not so easily overcome. The rock-built city of Ceuta was garrisoned by Spanish soldiers, and its brave commander, Count Julian, defied the valiant Amir Musa Ibn Nosseyr, the Hero of Two Continents. It seemed as if Islamism had reached its limit, that it would never set its foot upon beautiful Andalusia, at which it had so often cast its wistful eye. But Allah favored the onward march of the religion of the Prophet! The wrong done by the wicked Roderick, King of Spain, to the young and beautiful Florinda, daughter of Count Julian, the brave commander of Ceuta, opened Europe to the Arab-Moors. "By the living God," exclaimed the insulted father. "I will be revenged."

He soon found willing allies, consisting of the nobles, who could no longer endure the despotism of King Roderick, and of the Jews, who had been expelled from Spain. Encouraged by these allies Count Julian entered into negotiations with Amir Musa for the delivery of Spain into his hands. Musa accepted cheerfully.

"Long had the crimes of Spain cried out to Heaven:

At length the measure of offence was full.

Count Julian called the invader."

"Mad to wreak

His vengeance for his deeply injured child

On Roderick's head, an evil hour for Spain,

For that unhappy daughter, and himself.

Desperate apostate, on the Moors he called,

And, like a cloud of locusts, whom the wind

Wafts from the plains of wasted Africa,

The Mussulman upon Iberia's shores

Descends. A countless multitude they came:

Syrian, Moors, Saracen, Greek renegade,

Persian, and Copt, and Latin, in one band

Of Islam's faith conjoined, strong in the youth

And heat of zeal, a dreadful brotherhood."

The valiant Tarik crossed with a selected force, the strait between the Pillars of Hercules, which is now named after him "Gibr-al-Tarik" (Gibraltar), "the rock of Tarik." On the 24th of July, 711, the two armies met at the river of Guadalete, not far from Xeres, and after a three days' battle a small force of picked men, the indomitable horsemen of the desert, routed 80,000 Spaniards, amidst terrible carnage. Tarik pressed eagerly forward. Cordova, Malaga, Toledo, Merida, surrendered after little or no opposition. In six years later the Arab-Moors were complete masters of Spain, and have been so unto this day."

Abdallah has ended his narrative. Unconsciously, it seems, he takes the lute at his side, and running his fingers over the strings, he strikes a few chords and finally, as if desirious of supplementing his version of the entrance of Arab-Moors into Europe, he makes the lute accompany his recital of some of the songs and verses he had composed in commemoration of the victory of the Arab-Moors over fair Andalusia, and which have since become as popular in Bagdad and Antioch as in Cordova or Granada. We wish, but our wish is in vain, that Zelica might return to her wonted task, that her young and melodious voice might blend with the melting strains of the Moorish bard.

The heroic theme inspires Abdallah more and more. He begins to improvise. He defends Florinda, whom the Spaniards execrate, and name "La Cava"—"the Wicked." He sings of Roderick's entering the cave over which was written: "The king who opens this cave and discovers its wonders will learn both good and evil," and, how upon entering it he read this fatal inscription on the walls: "Unhappy King, thou hast entered in an evil hour. By strange nations thou shalt be dispossessed, and thy people degraded." He sings of the combat between Tarik and Roderick. He sings of the captive queen Egilona. He sings of the jealousy between Musa and Tarik, and of other themes, heroic and beautiful.

The muezzin's summons to evening prayer stops his muse, and makes our hasty departure necessary, for it is Friday evening, and the distance to the synagogue is long. We part hastily. Before leaving, however, Abdallah exacts a promise from Dunash that he will send for him whenever Chasdai ben Isaac, the distinguished Jewish Minister to the Caliph, shall tell us the History of the Entrance of the Jews into Spain.