History of the Moorish Empire in Europe, Vol. 2 (of 3)

by S. P. Scott

The government of Alfonso VI. was characterized by reforms in every part of the administration, by the reorganization of the tribunals whose decrees had been long supplanted by the exactions and the outrages of arbitrary violence, and by the general re-establishment of order and security. The highways were thoroughly repaired and freed alike from the rapacious impositions of the nobles and the plague of brigandage. All offenders were treated with impartial justice. Neither the wealth, the position, nor the former services of a violator of the law could purchase exemption from punishment. Devoted to the Church, while not untainted with the prevalent Pagan superstition which still clung to spurious revelations of the future by the aid of astrology, divination, and augury, Alfonso was noted for his scrupulous adherence to the forms of worship and for his liberality to the ministers of religion. During his residence at Toledo, the exiled prince, becoming accustomed to the refined manners and superior civilization of the Moors, did not fail to profit by his experience, and to adopt, to some extent, institutions and customs so conducive to the material and intellectual progress of a people. Mamun, whose court was one of the most polished in the Peninsula, treated his royal guest with every courtesy and attention which the most generous sympathy and hospitality could dictate. He was lodged in the royal palace. A numerous train of slaves was appointed to obey his most trifling behests. He was provided with a seraglio of Moorish beauties for his special delectation. The greatest deference was habitually shown to him by the nobles, and he was permitted to share the intimacy of the monarch; he participated in the martial amusements of the court and in the excitements of the chase; he even received a command in the army, and fought bravely by the side of his infidel companions against the forces of hostile principalities. During all this time he was looking forward to an opportunity to obtain possession of Toledo, famous from the highest antiquity for its strength, its traditions, and the brave but riotous character of its populace. Of the difficulties attending such a project he was thoroughly aware. The place was believed to be practically impregnable to assault. Castilian hyperbole declared that “The Spaniards have drawn the meridian through that city because Adam was the first King of Spain, and God placed the sun at the moment of creation directly over that ancient stronghold.” Its natural advantages for defence had been improved by the ingenuity and the resources of many successive dynasties. Long anterior to the Punic occupation it had been the seat of power. Its formidable situation had awakened the astonishment of the Romans in the days of Pliny. The Visigoths had rebuilt its walls and made it their capital, a distinction it maintained over the charming Andalusian cities while that domination endured. The Saracens had strengthened the fortifications and embellished the suburbs with magnificent villas, pleasure-grounds, and gardens. Under the rule of the Beni-Dhinun, Toledo contained a larger and more thrifty population than it had ever before possessed. Encircled, except on the north, by the waters of the Tagus, the foundations of its walls stood more than a hundred feet above the level of that rapid stream. An inaccessible precipice insured it against a hostile attack from the direction of the river, while upon the land side the great height and enormous solidity of the walls and towers might well defy the efforts of a besieging army provided only with the imperfect military appliances of antiquity.

The political influence and extensive trade enjoyed by the city of Toledo as the capital of one of the great Moorish principalities were eclipsed by the splendor displayed by its emirs in the royal residences which were scattered through its environs. One of the most remarkable of these was called, in the picturesque imagery of the Arabic tongue, The Mansion of the Hours. It stood on the bank of the Tagus a short distance west of the city, and was decorated with all the magnificence and ingenuity of Moorish art. Its walls sparkled with mosaics and gilded stuccoes. In its construction the rarest marbles were used with lavish profusion. Fountains of exquisite proportions cooled its halls and court-yards. In the largest of these was placed one of the most curious pieces of hydraulic mechanism ever invented. It was a clepsydra contrived by the famous astronomer Al-Zarkal, and consisted of two basins or reservoirs supplied with water, whose quantity was regulated exactly according to the phases of the moon. With the appearance of the crescent on the horizon the water commenced to run into the reservoirs, which it continued to do until the fourteenth day, when they were filled, and then it gradually diminished in quantity until the twenty-ninth day, when they were entirely empty. If at any time water was added to or taken from these basins the amount was not affected; the concealed mechanism, acting automatically, at once removed the surplus or supplied the deficiency. The movement of the water was accurately calculated according to the constantly varying inequality of the days and nights,* —at sunrise on the first day a twenty-eighth part, and at sunset a fourteenth part, appeared. The inventive genius requisite for the construction of a mechanism capable of producing such extraordinary results may be readily imagined, if not appreciated, by a non-scientific reader. This wonderful contrivance, whose fame, embellished with many fabulous additions, extended to the limits of the Peninsula, was mentioned with awe by the ignorant, who considered it as a mysterious talisman to be attributed to the supernatural powers of the genii and solely adapted to the unholy operations of magic. But there is no question that the clepsydra of Al-Zarkal was constructed for astronomical purposes, although at times it may have been diverted from its original uses to aid in the calculations of the profane but popular science of judicial astrology. The predilection of Mamun for scientific investigations and for the society of highly educated men was not unworthy of the most distinguished khalifs of the Ommeyade dynasty. His intellectual tastes and munificent patronage reawakened public interest in studies which had long been neglected amidst the oppression of petty tyrants and the din of perpetual revolution. His capital became one of the principal centres of Moorish culture, and the conversation of the learned was the delight of a court renowned far and wide for its civilization, its luxury, and the liberality and accomplishments of its sovereign.

In the garden of another villa belonging to the Moorish kings of Toledo was a pavilion built in the centre of an immense fountain. It was approached by a subterranean passage. The sides and roof were covered with glass of many hues relieved by gold and silver arabesques; the floor was of exquisite mosaic. In the mid-day heat of summer the Emir, accompanied by his favorite slaves, was accustomed to resort for his siesta to this pavilion, which stood in a shady grove. As soon as the royal train had entered, the building was completely enveloped with the dashing spray of the fountain, the musical ripple of whose waters soon lulled the occupants to sleep. A delicious coolness was obtained by this simple but ingenious device, and the refraction of the drops of water as they fell on the surface of the painted glass produced all the iridescent and blending colors of the rainbow. The luxurious appliances of the Arabs of Toledo, who were forced to contend with the drawbacks of a rigorous and variable climate and an unproductive soil, were far more creditable to their talents and industry than were those of the Andalusians, who were aided to an extraordinary degree by the advantages of situation and the prodigal gifts of nature. The banks of the Tagus were dotted for miles with the country-seats of the Moorish nobles and of the Jews, whose political and financial influence in the society of the venerable city preceded even the Visigothic domination, so that, when viewed from the commanding height of the walls, they resembled a continuous garden stretching as far as the eye could reach. Such was Moorish Toledo, a prize well worthy of the ambition of any conqueror.

The prophesies of astrologers and charlatans had embittered the closing hours of Motadhid, the tyrant of Seville. They found no encouragement for the perpetuation of his dynasty in the mysterious ceremonies of divination or the casting of horoscopes. The oracles of imposture, prompted perhaps by the occurrences of the past century as well by the inevitable tendency of African invasion towards the attractive shores of Andalusia, had declared that the empire of the Beni-Abbad would be conquered by warriors of foreign origin. The fears and the discernment of Motadhid correctly attributed this allusion to the barbarians of the Libyan Desert, now pouring with irresistible force over the entire region of Northern Africa. And even if this prediction should fail, there could be little doubt in his mind of the ultimate triumph of the Christian arms. The empire which he had founded was held together solely by the influence of terror. His vassals were ready to revolt at the slightest prospect of political benefit. His dynasty was regarded with contempt by the aristocracy and with execration by the populace. The extent of his dominions instead of being a source of strength was in reality only an indication of weakness. With all the artifices he could employ, he had been compelled to purchase the forbearance of the Castilian princes by an onerous and degrading tribute. It required no great degree of penetration to discover that the end of the Arab domination in the greater part of the Peninsula was at hand.

Motamid, who now ascended the throne of Seville, was not the ruler to restore the fortunes or even to sustain the burdens of a tottering monarchy. Endowed with excellent abilities, his inclinations led rather to the refined enjoyments of a sedentary life than to the responsibilities of government or to the hardships and perils of a military career. From early youth he had evinced a passion for literature. His faculties had been developed under the instruction of the best scholars of the time, and, possessing unusual powers of improvisation, he had made considerable progress in that art, prized among his countrymen as an indication of the highest poetical genius. Already intrusted with the conduct of important military enterprises, none of which, however, were successful, his disastrous campaign at Malaga sufficiently demonstrated his utter incapacity for command. The society of women divided with the love of letters the domain of his affections; a slave to female charms, he was helplessly subjected to the imperious caprices of his favorites, who exercised over his plastic mind a tyranny which admitted of no compromise and brooked no contradiction. His chief sultana was Romaiquia, a slave purchased from a master who exercised the respectable but plebeian calling of a muleteer. In an accidental encounter she had enchanted him with her quickness of repartee and her readiness in improvisation and poetical dialogue, and, in accordance with a custom not infrequent among a race with whom social rank is often subordinated to intellectual accomplishments, he had made her the companion of his leisure and the sharer of his throne. The minister of Motamid was Ibn-Ammar, whose principal qualification for office in the eyes of his sovereign was his devotion to the Muses. Under such conditions it is not surprising that the affairs of the kingdom assumed a very different aspect from that which they bore during the reign of the stern and merciless Motadhid. The revenues decreased through the intentional neglect of vassals to forward their tribute, and the dishonesty of collectors of taxes who appropriated the bulk of the funds which had been amassed by oppression. Robbers once more ruled the highways. Scarcely a night passed without the pillage of a house or the murder of a citizen within the walls of the capital, often under the very shadow of the palace. Vast sums, whose judicious expenditure would have greatly contributed to the comfort of the people and the security of the kingdom, were bestowed upon foreign poets, whose ingratitude and impudence were far more conspicuous than their talents, or squandered to indulge the whims of rapacious and frivolous women. The army, upon whose discipline everything depended, partook of the prevalent demoralization. The officers neglected their duties. The soldiers supplied the frequent deficiencies of their pay by the plunder of individuals known to be obnoxious to the government or by the precarious gains of half-concealed robbery. Thoughtful persons viewed with dismay the wild disorder that reigned in every province and in every town; heard with apprehension of the approach of the two great powers from the North and the South, whose proximity boded ill to the interests of civilization; and, sunk into despair, awaited in silent terror the final destruction of the empire.

The various changes which were constantly affecting the political complexion and mutual relations of the Moslem states of the Peninsula had finally concentrated the Arab supremacy in the three kingdoms of Granada, Toledo, and Seville. The encroachments of their formidable neighbors, and the consciousness of their own weakness, had merged the smaller principalities and cities, which had, for a brief and stormy period, enjoyed the appearance of independent states, into the domain of potentates who possessed the means as well as the inclination to uphold their pretensions to sovereignty. Of these, Granada, protected by her comparative isolation from the designs of her rivals, pursued her career of aggrandizement disturbed only by occasional internal commotions. Toledo, under the enlightened rule of the Beni-Dhinun, eclipsed in the splendor of its court and the genius of its monarch the reputation of all the other principalities. The enterprise of the Toledan prince had recently acquired for his dominions a large accession of valuable territory. A close alliance existed between him and Alfonso VI., and numbers of Christian cavaliers served gallantly under the Moslem standards. Valencia and its rich plantations fell without resistance into the hands of Mamun. The provinces of Murcia and Orihuela, teeming with exotic vegetation and abundant and multiple harvests, after an invasion of a few weeks, yielded to the prowess of the warriors of the North, and the garden of Eastern Spain was added to the domain of the flourishing kingdom of Toledo. These easy and profitable triumphs were far from satisfying the ambition of the aggressive Mamun. His eyes were constantly fixed upon the venerated capital of the khalifs, which, although deprived of its honors, its wealth, and its magnificence, still retained a diminished portion of the prestige it had formerly enjoyed, while its weakness tempted attack and annexation.

Ibn-Djahwar, whose wisdom had so long directed the counsels of the oligarchical commonwealth which had been founded on the ruins of the khalifate, oppressed with the infirmities of age and declining health, had resigned the conduct of affairs to his sons, Abd-al-Rahman and Abd-al-Melik. To the former was committed the management of the civil administration; the latter was invested with the command of the army. The superior talents of Abd-al-Melik, aided by the support of the military, gained for him the ascendant; but his despotic treatment of a people who had enjoyed for a brief period the advantages of political and individual liberty made him at the same time an object of universal detestation. In the midst of the discontent and confusion arising from the enforcement of his oppressive measures, Abd-al-Melik was confounded by the approach of the enemy. The diligence of the Prince of Toledo, prompted by secret intelligence conveyed by the disaffected, had anticipated the military dispositions of his adversary, and he was almost at the gates of Cordova before the latter received information that he had passed the frontier. The condition was critical. The sons of Ibn-Djahwar, far from inheriting the capacity of their father, had wantonly undermined the foundations of his power. The old vizier, Ibn-al-Sacca, who enjoyed the confidence of every class of citizens, had been summarily executed under an unfounded accusation of treason. His death, inexcusable in the eyes of the unprejudiced, had alienated the attachment of a large and respectable portion of the community. The popularity and veneration inspired by his love of justice and the wisdom of his administration caused the retirement of many of the most prominent and experienced officers of the army; while the people, who regarded him with almost filial reverence on account of his acts of benevolence, saw, with ominous murmurs, the efforts of an inexperienced youth to secure for himself, without sanction of law, public service, or personal sacrifice, the unlimited exercise of arbitrary power. In his extremity, Abd-al-Melik appealed to his neighbor Motamid, Emir of Seville. The latter responded with suspicious alacrity. A formidable detachment of Sevillian troops was admitted into the city; and the besiegers, unable to effect anything against such a garrison, were obliged to retire after the incomplete gratification of their malice by the pillage of the already wasted suburbs and the destruction of a few scattered and insignificant settlements. But while endeavoring to thwart the plans of a foreign enemy, the Prince, whose incompetency was destined to accomplish the subjection of his capital and the ruin of his family, had unconsciously exposed himself to a more imminent and fatal peril. The officers of Motamid lost no time in ingratiating themselves with the citizens of Cordova. They lauded, with extravagant praises, the character of their own sovereign; they incited the discontented and the ambitious to revolt; they overcame with costly gifts and specious arguments the scruples and the wavering allegiance of the hesitating; they aggravated, by appeals to passion and prejudice, the evils produced by the abuse of power, and pictured in glowing colors the present opportunity for a safe and speedy deliverance. These representations were received with avidity by the people of Cordova, who, after years of bloodshed and tyranny, had lost none of their predisposition to rebellion. A conspiracy was organized to transfer the city to Motamid. The negligence, the stupidity, or the corruption of the government officials permitted the arrangements essential to the success of the plot to be perfected without interference, and probably without detection. While the perfidious allies of Abd-al-Melik were drawn up in apparent preparation for departure, a tumult arose among the inhabitants; the palace was surrounded; the gates of the city were closed; and before the family of Ibn-Djahwar was able to realize the peril of the situation, its supremacy was overthrown and the imperial city of the khalifs had acknowledged the jurisdiction of the princes of Seville. Elated by the facility of his conquest, Motamid exhibited in the treatment of his illustrious prisoners a generous and unusual clemency. He caused them to be transported to the island of Saltes, where the comforts of a pleasant and commodious habitation might indifferently replace the cares, the disappointments, and the splendors of royalty.

The triumph of the Beni-Abbad was, however, of short duration. Mamun, who determined to secure by stratagem what he could not gain by force, enlisted the services of Ibn-Ocacha, a personage of considerable abilities and unsavory reputation, who had, in a long career of crime, successively exercised the congenial employments of assassin, highwayman, and soldier of fortune. The government of Cordova had been nominally committed to Abbad, heir-apparent of the royal house of Seville; but the power in reality was vested in Mohammed, an officer whose distinguished merit in the profession of arms was obscured by the vices of brutality, licentiousness, perfidy, and avarice. His conduct provoked the resentment of the people, a feeling which even the amiable qualities of Abbad were insufficient to counteract; and the suggestions of Ibn-Ocacha found a ready acceptance among a population whose inclination to sedition, transmitted through many generations of revolutionists, had become hereditary and habitual. In the midst of a terrible storm, and in the dead of night, Ibn-Ocacha, with a band of outlaws and desperadoes, was admitted by his fellow-conspirators into the fortifications of Cordova. As they approached the palace of the governor the alarm was given, and Abbad, half clad and without his armor, at the head of a few attendants, bravely confronted the assailants who sought his life. A desperate conflict followed; the valor of the prince aroused the fear of his ferocious enemies; they began to waver; when he lost his footing upon the pavement, slippery with blood, and fell prostrate, to be instantly pierced with a score of weapons. At daybreak, his head having been raised upon a pike, the soldiers took to ignominious flight; the fickle multitude greeted with execrations the features they had so recently admired; the aristocracy and the merchants embraced a cause which might afford protection to their persons and their estates; and, Ibn-Ocacha having convoked the citizens in the mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, the vast assemblage proclaimed, with vociferous but hollow acclamations, their doubtful allegiance to the Emir of Toledo. Intelligence of the success of the enterprise having been communicated to Mamun, he at once repaired to the scene of his final triumph, the famous city so indissolubly associated with the glories and the misfortunes of the Moorish empire. He was hailed as a deliverer by the people that crowded the streets, whose fidelity had been so often tested and so often found wanting as to have passed into a proverb. Ibn-Ocacha received the rewards due to the distinguished services he had rendered, but the high-spirited Mamun shrank from daily contact with a notorious criminal, and his soul revolted at the insolent familiarity of an assassin whose hands had been unnecessarily stained with royal blood. His feelings could not be concealed from the object of his contempt; in an unguarded moment he suffered an expression of ominous significance to escape him; and, while planning the sacrifice of a tool whose existence must eventually jeopardize his interests, his designs were frustrated by the vigilance of his enemy, and the prince who had issued unscathed from the exposure of a hundred battles perished miserably by poison.

The occupation of Cordova was the signal for unremitting hostilities by the Emir of Seville. Over his proud and sensitive nature the sentiments of indignation, sorrow, and disappointment alternately held sway. The entire resources of his kingdom, the skill of his bravest generals, the valor of Christian mercenaries, the encouragement of his own presence, were, during three years, employed for the recovery of the city. The persevering vengeance of Motamid was at last crowned with success; the venerable metropolis of the West once more endured the savage excesses of a licentious soldiery; and the Toledan garrison expiated by a shocking massacre its attachment to its latest sovereign. The death of Ibn-Ocacha, who was crucified head downward, in company with a dog, before the principal gate of Cordova, appeased in some measure the fierce resentment of the devoted father of Abbad, while the subsequent conquest of the territory between the Guadiana and the Guadalquivir signally rebuked the presumptuous ambition of the King of Toledo.

The genius of Alfonso VI. had with each year of his reign cemented the foundations and expanded the resources of the Christian power. After the overthrow of his brethren no domestic rivals remained to dispute his authority. His frequent expeditions against the Moslems exercised the valor of the troops in frequent campaigns, gratified the prejudices of the clergy by the prosecution of a crusade, and stimulated the ruling passion of both of these castes by the judicious distribution of the rich spoils of the Moslem. Never since the time of the Goths had the influence of the Christians been of such extent and importance. Their dominions already embraced no inconsiderable portion of the Peninsula. Their conquests began to assume the aspect of permanent acquisitions. The great principalities of Seville and Toledo were tributaries of the King of Castile, but their regular and involuntary contributions were not always sufficient to ward off invasion. Upon the smallest pretext, and often absolutely without provocation, the mailed chivalry of the North swept like a devastating torrent the plains of the Tagus and the Guadalquivir. The obligation of immunity implied by the annual delivery of tribute was seldom observed by the adroit exponents of Christian casuistry. Already had appeared the germ of that maxim, afterwards so popular and lucrative, that no contract was binding when made with an infidel. The treasures transmitted by the Moors each year to the court of Castile, and which were apparently collected without inconvenience or effort, stimulated the cupidity and ambition of the monarch, and deeply impressed his impoverished subjects with the fabulous wealth and inexhaustible resources of the diminished but still opulent provinces of the once prosperous Moslem empire. The immediate occupation of these provinces was merely a question of political expediency. Their ultimate absorption by the Christian monarchy was no longer doubtful. The determination of the problem rested with the sovereign, who, by this time, had concluded to substitute for the capricious predatory excursions, constantly undertaken in contravention of the faith of solemn engagements and in defiance of the most obvious principles of justice, the regular operations of an organized campaign. The first demonstration was made against Seville. At the head of the largest Christian army which had ever invaded Andalusia, Alfonso VI. appeared before the gates of the capital. The city was thrown into consternation. No adequate means of defence were available, for the constitutional negligence of Motamid—who, besides, naturally presumed that the position of vassal would insure his security—had abandoned the supervision of military precautions for the diversions of midnight banquets and literary assemblies. By the ingenuity of Ibn-Amman, however, the impending catastrophe was prevented, and a respite afforded the terrified citizens, who anticipated with just dismay the savage license of their enemies. The stratagem by which this was accomplished, although in perfect harmony with the character and the customs of a romantic age, seems hardly credible when contrasted with the present prosaic negotiations of contracting powers. Among the amusements that were popular with the princes of Spain, both Moorish and Christian, was the game of chess, which the Arabs had brought from India. This diversion was a favorite one with Motamid, and he possessed a chess-board which, made by the most accomplished artificers of the kingdom, was the wonder of the court. The board itself was constructed of many pieces of sandal and other costly woods, embellished with exquisite gold and silver arabesques and glittering with gems. The squares were of ivory and ebony, the men of the same materials, carved with marvellous skill and mounted in solid gold. This beautiful toy Ibn-Ammar determined to use as the instrument for the salvation of his country. Carrying it under his robes, he visited the Christian encampment, and having, as if undesignedly, permitted some of the Castilian knights to examine it, awaited the effect of this exhibition upon the curiosity of the King. The latter, who was devoted to the game and was an excellent player, challenged Ibn-Ammar, who himself had no superior in Cordova, to contend with him in this the most fascinating pastime of royalty. The wily vizier consented, with the understanding that if Alfonso prevailed he should receive the chess-board, but if not, that he should grant the first request his successful opponent should demand of him. The discernment of the King led him to at once reject this insidious proposal, and Ibn-Ammar retired to his tent. The spirit of the minister was not discouraged by his apparent failure; he quietly secured the co-operation of some of the most influential nobles of the court by the bestowal of treasure with which he was amply provided with a view to just such an emergency. The plausible presentations of these powerful allies soon overcame the fears of the monarch, and an insignificant plaything was deposited as the prize of the winner against the magnificent stake of an empire. The tact of the Moslem procured the appointment as judges of those nobles already purchased with his gold. The game proceeded; Alfonso proved no match for his practised opponent, who, when the time arrived to announce his request, demanded the unconditional evacuation of Andalusia by the Christian army. The mortification of the King at this unexpected demand may be imagined, and, in a moment of anger, he even meditated the violation of his royal word; but the efforts of the courtiers, and the tender of a double tribute willingly contributed by the government of Seville, appeased his vexation, and he relinquished with reluctance the splendid prize already within his grasp. Thus, by the shrewdness and cunning of a statesman, whose act has no parallel in the annals of diplomacy, the matured plans of an able sovereign were foiled; a national calamity was averted; and means were even provided for the further aggrandizement of a territory whose effeminate government and demoralized condition had invited the attack of a formidable invader. Not only Seville, but not improbably the other states of Andalusia and of Eastern Spain as well, were saved by the ruse of Ibn-Ammar, and the end of the death-struggle between Christian and Moslem in the Peninsula was protracted for more than four hundred years. The military genius of Alfonso, the distinction and experience he had gained in a long series of victorious campaigns, the tested valor of a numerous army excited by the spirit of military emulation, and the blind fury of religious zeal constantly inflamed by fanatics, justify the presumption that the fall of Seville would have soon been followed by the subjection of every other Moslem state, and that, upon apparently so insignificant a thing as a game of chess, once depended the existence and the destinies of the Hispano-Arab domination. The obligation due to the ingenuity and perseverance of Ibn-Ammar may be appreciated when it is recalled that a hundred and sixty-three years elapsed after the retirement of Alfonso from the walls of Seville before that city passed into the hands of the Christians, and that it was more than three centuries after that event when, by the surrender of Granada, the Moorish dominion in the Peninsula was finally terminated.