The policy of Ibn-Abbas had always been characterized by unrelenting hostility to the members of other factions. Berbers, Christians, and Jews had been repeatedly visited with decided marks of his disfavor. His representations had induced Zohair, alone of all the Arab princes, to hold aloof from the alliance formed against the Africans. Hebrews were the especial objects of his antipathy. The influence of this race, paramount in the adjacent principality of Granada, and which had at different times interfered with the accomplishment of his ambitious projects, now led indirectly to important events, seriously affecting the stability of existing institutions as well as the ultimate political destinies of the Peninsula.
Wonderfully favored by nature, as well as by the industry of a numerous population, the province of Granada early began to give evidence of that greatness which culminated in its erection into an independent and powerful kingdom. The Jews, attracted by the productiveness of its soil, the salubrity of its climate, and the mercantile advantages of its situation, had settled there in such numbers that the capital was, even before the accession of the first Abd-al-Rahman, known as a Jewish city. The financial ability and enterprise of their race had enabled them to surpass all commercial rivals, and the trade of the province eventually passed into their hands. Their wealth was beyond computation; their Semitic affiliations protected them from political outrage and religious persecution; while the experience and the abilities of their leaders were often employed by the illiterate princes who, either as vassals or petty sovereigns, occupied the throne of Granada. During the period under consideration that state was ruled by Habus, a monarch of African origin, and the influence of the Berber party was predominant and unquestioned throughout his dominions, although they contained many sympathizers with the fallen dynasty and thousands of Christian tributaries.
At the head of the Hebrews of Granada was the famous Rabbi Samuel, of the family of Levi, who enjoyed the unusual distinction of being the chief councillor of a Mussulman sovereign. Born in an humble station at Cordova, he early developed a taste for literature, and had profited to the utmost by the admirable educational facilities afforded by the schools of the capital. His diligence had been rewarded by the acquisition of vast stores of knowledge. He was an accomplished linguist, a talented poet. His conversation and his writings demonstrated his thorough acquaintance with all the learning of the time. His official correspondence, for felicity of expression and purity of diction, was the envy of the scholars of every Andalusian court. In the perfection of his chirography, he excelled the performance of experts in that art, an extraordinary attainment in an age when the greatest importance was attached to regularity in the characters and beauty in the ornamentation of books and inscriptions. The controversial works of Samuel enjoyed a high reputation among the theologians and philosophers of his sect, while his patronage of the learned and the liberality with which he rewarded the struggling efforts of aspiring genius endeared his name to every member of the commonwealth of letters. His familiarity with the most abstruse branches of science, his proficiency in rhetoric, mathematics, and astronomy were considered almost supernatural by his contemporaries. He educated at his own expense deserving but indigent youths of his nation; a number of secretaries were kept constantly employed under his direction in transcribing copies of the Talmud, to be presented to the poor; and afflicted and destitute Jews of such distant countries as Egypt, Palestine, and Persia had frequent reason to applaud the generous and charitable conduct of the Chief Rabbi of Granada.
The advancement of Samuel to a position demanding the exercise of the highest diplomatic talents, as well as the possession of extensive knowledge and a profound acquaintance with human nature, was due in a great measure to his own genius and to the reputation his abilities had already acquired. He owed nothing to the fortuitous advantages of rank or fortune. His family was poor. His ancestors could boast of no connection with either the kings of Judea or the priests of the ancient hierarchy. For years he had maintained himself by the sale of spices in a little shop in the bazaar of Malaga. An accident brought him to the notice of Al-Arif, Vizier of the King of Granada, and he became the secretary of that official, who, upon his death-bed, recommended him to his sovereign as a servant eminently worthy of confidence. The event justified the wise advice of the vizier. The rabbi of a detested race inspired the respect and received the willing homage of the proudest Arab nobles, who could not but admire the unaffected dignity with which he bore the honors of his exalted station. He was the only prime-minister of his sect mentioned in history who ever openly directed the policy of a Moslem government. Such was his unerring sagacity that one of his countrymen said that his counsels were such as might have been directly inspired by the omniscience of God. He conducted the administration of public affairs with the most consummate wisdom, and the subsequent power and grandeur of the kingdom of Granada were largely attributable to the genius of this eminent Hebrew statesman.
A spirit of rivalry, aggravated by prejudice of race and jealousy of power, had arisen between the viziers of Almeria and Granada. While Samuel sustained his claims to superiority by a dignified indifference, Ibn-Abbas endeavored to undermine and subvert the influence of the rabbi by the most dishonorable artifices that hatred could invent. But, to the mortification of the vindictive minister, his efforts proved futile. In vain he caused to be spread fictitious rumors of the avarice, the oppression, the ambitious hopes, and the meditated treachery of his rival. The confidence of both monarch and people was too well founded in the honor and integrity of Samuel to be shaken by the malicious falsehoods of an avowed enemy. In the mean time, Habus having died, an attempt was made by Ibn-Abbas to excite a revolution by espousing the pretensions of a younger son of the deceased king. But Badis, the heir-apparent, through the influence of Samuel, ascended the throne in defiance of foreign interference and internal discord. The first act of Badis, influenced probably by the suggestions of his politic adviser,—for Samuel continued to enjoy the favor and confidence of the son in the same degree that he had formerly done under the father,—was an attempt at reconciliation with Zohair, prince of Almeria. The latter affected to receive these proposals with pleasure, and then, suddenly, without the consent required by the law of nations, having traversed at the head of an armed escort the territory of his neighbor, appeared before the walls of his capital. The flagrant discourtesy of this act was overlooked by the angry and astonished host in his desire for harmony. Zohair and his companions were entertained with becoming hospitality; and the Arab Emir was dazzled by the splendors of a palace which stood on the site afterwards to be occupied by the peerless Alhambra. But the prince of Almeria, forgetting the amenities demanded by his position, bore himself with insufferable arrogance; the members of his train assumed an air of insolent superiority which aroused the indignation of the court and the people; while the vizier, whose pride seemed to have mastered his sense of official propriety, conducted himself without regard to the consequences certain to result from the resentment of an infuriated enemy. After a few days of ineffectual negotiation, the conference was abruptly concluded; and Zohair and his retinue departed, only to fall into an ambuscade which the outraged Granadans had prepared for them in the depths of the sierra. The most heroic valor availed but little in the presence of overwhelming odds; the possibility of escape was effectually removed by the precipices and gorges of a mountain solitude; and the prince with most of his followers perished upon the weapons of the Berber soldiery or were hurled into ravines whose depths were shrouded in perpetual darkness. Of those who survived, the soldiers were beheaded; and the court dignitaries, who were classed as non-combatants, were released, with a single exception. Ibn-Abbas, after enduring the taunts of an ungenerous and triumphant foe, was loaded with heavy fetters and thrown into a dungeon. His pathetic appeals for mercy were unheeded by the ferocious Badis. He vainly tried to tempt the cupidity of his jailers with the offer of a bribe of sixty thousand ducats. In accordance with the ruthless customs of mediæval barbarity, the captive minister was dragged in chains before the throne and pierced with the sword-thrusts of the monarch and his courtiers until life was extinct. Thus perished the accomplished Ibn-Abbas through the consequences of his own temerity, and with him was removed one of the greatest obstacles of both national unity and Berber ambition.
Before the inhabitants of Almeria had recovered from the consternation caused by the death of their sovereign, his domains were appropriated by the Emir of Valencia. This step, perhaps advised by the astute Kadi of Seville, at all events greatly strengthened the power of that dignitary by extending the domain of a vassal of the pretended Hischem and removing all prospect of the accession of another dangerous enemy. This fortunate circumstance having relieved his apprehensions of disturbance from the successors of Zohair, the wily Abul-Kasim began to carry his insidious operations into the court of Granada. The employment of spies, some of whom occupied high official positions, made this enterprising statesman intimately acquainted with the secret transactions of every Divan in the Peninsula. His emissaries at Granada, while informing him of the discontent prevailing in that city on account of the tyranny and habitual intoxication of the King, which kept the people in constant alarm, also communicated the opinion that it would not be difficult, by means of an insurrection, to bring the entire principality under the jurisdiction of Seville. To insure success for this notable enterprise a competent leader was required, a task of little difficulty in a country long accustomed to revolution and swarming with able and unscrupulous men. There lived at this time at Granada a prominent personage named Abu-al-Fotuh, who combined the rather inconsistent professions of a soldier of fortune and a peripatetic philosopher. A native of Djordjan, on the shores of the Caspian,—the Hyrcania of the ancients,—the affluent circumstances of his family had provided for him an excellent education, and he was well versed in all the learning of the East. Not only was he remarkably proficient in grammar and astronomy, but the occult sciences were the objects of his especial predilection. A recognized authority on geomancy and astrology, he was regarded with awe by the vulgar, who thought that they detected in his habits and occupations evidence of communication with the mysterious powers of the unseen world. This popular impression his interests engaged him to confirm by every artifice of perverted ingenuity. His house was secluded from observation, and contained a well-equipped laboratory, whose caldrons and alembics were firmly believed by his neighbors to be implements devoted to the unlawful practice of magic. In his dress and his manners he affected an air of profound mystery and reserve. His garments were embroidered with cabalistic symbols. His staff was entwined with serpents. In public he maintained a taciturnity unusual with his voluble race, a trait too often accepted by the thoughtless multitude as an indication of superior wisdom. The scientific acquirements and literary tastes of this remarkable individual did not deter him from adopting for his pecuniary benefit the most disreputable arts of the charlatan. His mansion was daily visited by crowds eager to learn the prognostications of the future derived from the casting of horoscopes and the study of the stars. Officials of distinguished rank were included among his patrons; royalty itself did not disdain to interrogate the oracles of destiny; and the relations of this learned impostor with the King of Granada, embellished by the genius of an accomplished writer, form the subject of one of the most fascinating tales in the English language. Although his present occupations were those of peace, the years of Abu-al-Fotuh had not been passed entirely amidst the uneventful routine of a sedentary life. He was a daring horseman, well skilled in all the martial exercises of the age; a soldier bearing upon his person the scars of honorable wounds received in battle; a general whose coolness and intrepidity had been tested by the perils of many a campaign. Such was the leader selected by the aspiring Abul-Kasim to overturn the throne of the dissolute and unpopular King of Granada.
The attractions of political intrigue obtained the mastery over philosophical maxims and worldly experience in the mind of Abu-al-Fotuh, and he embraced with ardor the proposals of the Kadi of Seville. He secretly represented to Yahya, a cousin of Badis, that the present conjunction of the planets was unusually favorable to his fortunes, inasmuch as the calculations of astrology indicated the speedy death of the sovereign and the promotion of his relative to the honors and prerogatives of the crown. The vanity and the hopes of a thoughtless prince were excited by this announcement so authoritatively conveyed, and he willingly accepted a responsibility which seemed to have received the sanction of heaven. The discontent of the people was sedulously fomented; the support of a number of disaffected nobles was secured; and the ramifications of a formidable plot soon began to extend to every corner of the city and the province. Unfortunately for the success of their scheme, the conspirators had failed to take into consideration the sagacity and vigilance of the Jewish vizier. The suspicious movements of well-known malcontents could not long escape the observation of his spies. The plot was betrayed; and the ringleaders, escaping with some difficulty the vengeance of Badis, fled to Seville. Enraged by the interference of a stranger in the affairs of his kingdom, an appeal of the Lord of Carmona to Badis and to Edris of Malaga was made an opportune pretext for the chastisement of the presumptuous ruler of Seville. The hostile armies met near Ecija. The Sevillians, commanded by Ismail, the son of the Kadi, were defeated; and the sorrow of the catastrophe was aggravated by the death of the youthful general, who, in a short but brilliant career of arms, had displayed talents and resources worthy of an experienced veteran. Solicitude for the safety of his wife and children, unprotected in the power of his indignant sovereign, induced Abu-al-Fotuh soon after the battle to throw himself upon the generosity of a tyrant whose deafness to every appeal for mercy was notorious and proverbial. With a diabolical refinement of cruelty, Badis, through an effectual display of compassion, raised in the mind of the unfortunate captive fallacious hopes of a speedy deliverance. Conducted to Granada rather with the ceremony due to a guest than with the restraint imposed upon a prisoner, as soon as the gate of the city was reached the courtesy of the guard was abruptly changed into insult and violence, and Abu-al-Fotuh received the ignominious treatment of a common malefactor. His head was shaved; he was lashed upon the back of a camel; and the driver of the animal, followed by a guard of slaves, scourged the victim relentlessly, while the procession exhibiting this suggestive example of royal justice traversed with deliberate steps, and amidst the jeers of the populace, the principal thoroughfares of the city. After submitting to this punishment, Abu-al-Fotuh was cast into prison, and a few days afterwards underwent the same fate the vizier of Almeria had endured, and was buried by the side of that rash but accomplished statesman.
I have described somewhat at length the personal characteristics of the men who, in the troublous times which followed the dismemberment of the khalifate, either attained to power or perished in unsuccessful attempts to subvert the existing authority of the state, in order to call the attention of the reader to the high standard of intelligence and education demanded of a leader of the people. The day had long since gone by when an illiterate faqui, no matter how eminently gifted by nature with oratorical powers, could direct the blind and headstrong passions of the multitude. The possession of great talents and great learning was indispensable for the acquisition of political influence and the management of important national enterprises. The education of the masses, even in a country for nearly half a century distracted by sedition, was too far advanced to permit the successful exercise of the arts of the ignorant demagogue. Without the accidental distinction of birth, no individual, no matter how commanding his abilities or how thorough his qualifications for office, could ever hope to secure the co-operation of the proud Arab nobility. Nowhere, since the decadence of Attic splendor, had so many men of varied talents and literary accomplishments risen to political distinction as in the closing years of the Hispano-Arab empire in Spain. No circumstances could well be imagined more unfavorable to intellectual advancement. The entire country was unsettled. Property was insecure. Revolutions were frequent. The services of nearly every able-bodied man were liable to be required at any moment for the protection of the existing government. The tranquillity so essential to the full exercise of the mental faculties in literary pursuits was, under such conditions, absolutely unattainable. Yet, although beset by such formidable difficulties, the genius of Arab culture continued to sustain the high reputation which it had gained under the khalifate. The popular system of education still preserved, amidst manifold interruptions, the standard of excellence by which it had formerly been distinguished. Each principality became a centre of learning, and, in friendly emulation, endeavored to surpass the scientific achievements of its neighbors. The Arabian society of the Peninsula, having thus inherited and preserved the progressive spirit, the noble traditions, and the literary tastes of the khalifate, was enabled to long retain the undisputed intellectual supremacy of Europe.
Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, the Kadi of Seville, died in that city in 1042, after a reign of more than twenty years. Although never formally vested with the supreme authority, he had, since the dethronement of Yahya, practically exercised the functions of an absolute sovereign. His son, Abbad, whose designation of Motadhid is that by which he is best known to history, ascended the throne as the minister of the mat-maker Khalaf, who, still fraudulently representing the imperial dignity of the Ommeyades, continued to pass his days in indolence and luxury, while the family of the Beni-Abbad, through the serviceable agency of his imposture, was making rapid progress towards the acquisition of despotic power. Motadhid was a prince of excellent parts which had been improved by assiduous study; but his temperament was fierce and sensual; his ungovernable rage made him the terror of the city; and, in the indulgence of his vices and the prosecution of his ambition, he recognized neither the ties of kindred, the obligations of hospitality, the faith of treaties, nor the law of nations. He wrote verses far superior in quality to those usually produced by royal authors. Even the bacchanalian poems of his hours of dissipation were distinguished for the ingenuity of their conceits, the elegance of their diction, and the delicacy of their sentiments. His patronage of learning has served to compensate, in a measure, for the crimes which have blackened his character in the eyes of posterity. The taste displayed in some of his compositions is not surpassed by that of any of the most elaborate productions of Arabian genius which have descended to our times. One of the most striking peculiarities of Motadhid was his taciturnity. He had no confidants. He never betrayed, by word or gesture, the thoughts that were passing through his mind. His designs were formed and carried into execution with a skill and a success which argued not only unusual powers of invention and combination, but a profound acquaintance with the weaknesses and the inconsistencies of human nature. In his personal habits, he was one of the most licentious and brutal princes of his century. A skeptic in religion, it was said that he believed in nothing but astrology and wine. His orgies were the reproach of the court and the horror of the capital. His fits of intoxication lasted for days, and in his capacity to consume large quantities of wine he far exceeded the most seasoned and strong-headed of his boon companions. “To drink at dawn is a religious dogma, and whoever does not believe in it is a Pagan,” was one of his favorite maxims. An ardent admirer of beauty, he caused the slave-markets of Europe and Asia to be searched for the most attractive specimens of female loveliness, and his harem contained eight hundred concubines, selected for their extraordinary charms. The implacable animosity of Motadhid was rarely assuaged by the completion of vengeance; it demanded the preservation of mementos by which he might recall with ferocious pleasure the fate of a hated and formidable enemy. The skulls of such as had perished in rebellion or by the sword of the executioner, as well as of those of hostile officers who had fallen in battle, were all preserved. The garden of his palace was lined with rows of these melancholy and suggestive trophies, in which he caused to be planted flowers of brilliant colors and delightful fragrance. Each skull was polished to a snowy whiteness, and bore upon a label the name and the offence of its former owner. In a casket among his treasures were preserved similar memorials of the princes who had succumbed to the superior fortune of his arms. These were adorned with a splendor which attested the value attached to them by their possessor as evidences of victory. They were set in gold; in the sockets, once brightened with the flashing of the human eye, the cold glitter of the diamond arrested the glance of the horrified observer; and around the temples was inserted a row of precious stones of various colors,—sapphires, rubies, hyacinths, and emeralds. These souvenirs of blood and cruelty always imparted fresh inspiration to the mind of Motadhid, and the most joyous as well as the most pathetic of his verses were composed while in their contemplation.
The agents and spies of Motadhid were to be found in every country and in every court. Nowhere was even the fugitive who had incurred the enmity of the tyrant safe from his vengeance. In Seville lived a blind citizen of great wealth. His possessions provoked the avarice of the prince, and he unceremoniously appropriated the greater portion of them. The victim having lost the remainder, and being reduced to penury, travelled, dependent upon charity, as a pilgrim to Mecca. To all who would listen, he told the story of his wrongs, and declaimed against the injustice of the ruler of Seville both in the Mosque and in the public places of the Holy City.