But a single consideration restrained, for the time, the impulses of Yusuf. He had solemnly sworn before his first expedition that he would attempt nothing to the prejudice of his allies. From that obligation the most trusted of his ecclesiastical guides, with an effrontery that would have done credit to a Jesuit, now promised to release him. The prevailing arguments of their casuistry were based on the necessity of protecting the transcendent interests of religion, which were seriously threatened by the disorganized condition of the entire country. The scruples of Yusuf were, however, not entirely removed by these representations, and, while he was still hesitating, the broils of the Andalusian princes turned aside his attention from the engrossing projects of personal ambition. Motasim, the Berber lord of Almeria, had for years been on friendly terms with Motamid. An indiscreet remark of the latter reflecting on the Sultan was reported to him; it was traced to Motasim; and the mutual denunciations of the rivals distracted the peace of the camp. The claim of Seville to the suzerainty of Murcia was another source of discord, which eventually caused the defection of the people of that kingdom and the retention of supplies vitally essential to the subsistence of the besiegers. The dissensions of his allies, the inclemency of the season, the scarcity of provisions, and the information that an army of Christians was approaching induced Yusuf to raise the siege. The casualties of war and famine had greatly reduced the garrison of Aledo during the four months that the place was invested. The walls had been weakened by the military engines, and a determined effort on the part of the besiegers would have easily carried it by storm. Alfonso, finding its citadel untenable, completed its destruction that it might not be occupied by the enemy, and, without any further demonstration, returned to his dominions.
The retreat of the Moorish army was the signal for fresh intrigues on the part of the malcontents. They feared that the withdrawal of Yusuf in the face of the enemy would redound to his injury by diminishing his prestige and by impairing the confidence of the masses in his ability to contend successfully with the power of Castile. The Kadi of Granada was the most active of these conspirators. His treasonable designs were detected by his sovereign, and he was imprisoned, but afterwards escaped to Cordova. The fears of his comrades incited them to redoubled energy. The princes of Malaga and Granada were declared in an assembly of muftis and faquis to have forfeited their rights on account of alleged breaches of the law and persecutions of the expounders of religion; and Yusuf was enjoined, as the representative of justice and the avenger of the Faith, to seize their dominions. Encouraged by the assurances of these hypocritical partisans, the African prince with his entire army marched on Granada. Abdallah, the sovereign of that kingdom, was conspicuous for cowardice and incompetency among the degenerate Moslems of his time. He had inherited none of the martial virtues of his Berber ancestors. He was a patron of letters, but his studies had not awakened in him either the desire for glory or the patient resignation to the decrees of fate which are among the fruits of assiduous research and meditation. The models of Mohammedan greatness inspired him with no wish to imitate their exploits. The sight of a drawn sword threw him into convulsions. His habitual indecision, even in matters of trifling moment, provoked the derision of his courtiers. Unlike his race, he was insensible to the charms of female beauty, a defect which excited more contempt than his pusillanimity among a people with whom impotence is considered a judgment of God. He was able to write passable verses; he was familiar with the most celebrated Arab authors; he excelled in the art of chirography, and had copied and illuminated a Koran, whose reputed perfection was probably not wholly due to flattery in an age fertile in accomplished scribes. These arts, however meritorious, were far from qualifying a ruler for governing a kingdom during a period of universal disorder. To add to his embarrassment, the court of Abdallah was permeated with treason. The nobility and the people hated each other, but both hated and despised the King still more; and their mutual animosities were, for the time, suspended that they might avenge their wrongs on him whom they were accustomed to regard as a common enemy. The viziers were in constant communication with Yusuf and with the exiled Kadi, Abu-Giafar, who, from his refuge at Cordova, directed the movements of the conspirators.
The Almoravides had already approached within a few miles of Granada, which was almost defenceless. Alarmed by the suspicions and threats of Abdallah, his councillors had secretly fled from the city. The despairing monarch had previously implored the aid of Alfonso, but the King of Castile had, for some unknown reason, neglected this rare opportunity to enlarge his dominions and remained deaf to his entreaties. A large force of artisans and slaves, whose fidelity was more than suspicious, was enlisted, who, even had they been so disposed, could not be expected to face with any prospect of success the ferocious veterans of Yusuf. Finally, convinced of his helplessness, Abdallah concluded to throw himself upon the generosity of his powerful enemy. Surrounded with all the pomp afforded by the richest principality in Spain, he rode out one morning from the principal gate of his capital. The cavalcade was preceded by the Christian guards equipped with a splendor not equalled since the time of the Ommeyades. They were clothed in many-colored robes of silk; their weapons sparkled with jewels; the housings of their white Arabian horses were of brocade profusely embroidered with gold. In the rear rode the monarch attended by his household and encompassed by eunuchs with drawn scimetars. A multitude of citizens, including a considerable number of the partisans of Yusuf, closed the splendid procession.
All this display, however, produced no other effect than to excite the amazement and cupidity of the Sultan. Abdallah, in flagrant violation of the rites of hospitality, was placed in chains, and his escort was despoiled. The gates of Granada were thrown open; the Almoravides entered in triumph; by public proclamation the exorbitant taxes which had been such a prolific source of discontent were declared illegal and abolished; and only those sanctioned by Mussulman laws and usages were pronounced binding upon the people. The enthusiasm which greeted the appearance of Yusuf after this concession to popular clamor was unbounded. He was universally hailed as the champion of right, the friend of the oppressed, the restorer of Islam. Vast crowds blocked his passage through the streets. Thousands pressed forward to kiss the hem of his garment. The satisfaction he derived from these evidences of popularity—the more extraordinary considering the bitter prejudice existing in Granada against the Berbers—was enhanced by the contemplation of the riches of his new conquest. On the future site of the Alhambra stood a palace, whose beauty made it a not unworthy precursor of that incomparable abode of royal magnificence and luxury. Within its vaults were treasures of inestimable value, fruits of the rapacity exercised by many successive princes of Granada. There were deposited heaps of precious stones; tapestry and hangings of the finest silk blazing with jewels; a profusion of gold and silver plate; weapons of marvellous workmanship; exquisite vessels of porcelain and rock-crystal. No small portion of this treasure consisted of articles of personal adornment,—chains, bracelets, necklaces, and amulets. The gem of the collection was a string of pearls, four hundred in number, perfectly matched in size and color, and each valued at a hundred pieces of gold. These precious objects, however, were but inconsiderable when compared with the mercantile and agricultural wealth of the province from which they had been derived. The Vega, or plain of Granada, had already reached that remarkable state of cultivation which subsequently delighted the eyes and stimulated the avarice of the subjects of Ferdinand and Isabella. Its broad expanse was dotted with innumerable hamlets and plantations. Its divisions were marked by hedges of odoriferous shrubs. The silver threads of the canals with which it was everywhere intersected glittered in the sunlight, whose intensity was softened by the light vapors which constantly overhung the lovely valley. The numerous groves of mulberry-trees scattered over the smiling prospect suggested the extent and prosperity of the silk industry, while the vast plantations of oranges and olives, the pomegranate orchards, the multiple harvests, the gardens of valuable exotics, disclosed the opulence of the proprietors and the exuberant fertility of the soil. The predominance of Hebrew influence had raised the products of Granada to high estimation in the commercial world. Its bazaars were well furnished with every commodity which could satisfy the simple requirements of the poor or the pampered luxury of the rich. The political commotions which had for so long disturbed the Peninsula, while impairing the prosperity of the kingdom, had by no means checked the enterprise or materially damaged the resources of its population. The Jew always stood on neutral ground. The victorious faction often applied to him for advice and loans; the unsuccessful one was ever ready to pledge its valuables with him on the hazard of a new revolution. The elevation of one of his sect to the honorable dignity of vizier had been of incalculable advantage to his social and mercantile interests. It had afforded protection and respectability to his avocations; it had enabled him to project and mature colossal financial enterprises. Thus he plundered both sides and prospered. Citizens, proscribed for political offences, and Christians, for whom ecclesiastical denunciation had no terrors, transacted their affairs through his agency. His ships were to be found in every harbor; his factors were established in every seaport; his wares were exposed for sale in every capital of the Mediterranean and its adjacent seas. At the period of the occupation of Granada by the Almoravides, its commerce, in wealth and volume, probably exceeded that of all the other states of the Peninsula, Christian and Moslem, combined.
No one of ordinary intelligence could still be ignorant of the intentions of Yusuf, yet the Andalusian princes, with obsequious servility, felicitated him in the most flattering terms on his success. The Sultan felt that it was now time to throw off his disguise. He habitually treated his royal sycophants with marked discourtesy. The capture of Granada was followed by that of Malaga. Then it was, when too late, that the Moorish emirs took the alarm. They agreed among themselves to withdraw their support from the Almoravides and to suspend all intercourse with them. In their perplexity and despair they adopted the fatal plan of soliciting a defensive union with the Christians, an expedient which had invariably proved fatal to their interests. The King of Castile readily consented to an alliance which, whatever might be its result, must necessarily increase his power by fostering the mutual enmity of the contending Moslems. Aware of the profound importance of confirming his operations by the sanction of judicial and ecclesiastical authority, Yusuf now demanded of the kadis and the muftis an opinion on the legality of seizing the kingdoms of his allies, which they had proved unable to either govern or to defend. The opinion, when prepared, was all that the most scrupulous casuist could desire. Its authors assumed responsibility for the future acts of Yusuf, and declared it was not only his right but his duty to dethrone and plunder his degenerate allies, who fortunately no longer possessed the means of successful resistance. To avoid any future complications which might affect his standing among the devout, Yusuf caused this opinion of the highest authorities of Spain to be submitted to the most distinguished jurists, divines, and scholars of the Moslem world. All, without exception, confirmed it; and the African Sultan, having in the mean time returned to Morocco, issued orders to his lieutenant, Ibn-Abi-Bekr, to commence hostilities without further delay. Tarifa, Cordova, Carmona were taken, and then the Almoravide leader, determined to strike a decisive blow, pitched his camp before Seville. The besiegers had many sympathizers in Motamid’s capital, and their party had been greatly strengthened by the uniform success which had hitherto attended their enterprises. The indecision and the apprehensions of the Prince forbade the adoption of summary measures against these conspirators, who prosecuted, almost without concealment, their treasonable schemes in the face of the court and the garrison. The last resource of Motamid depended on the movements of a Christian force which the King of Castile sent to his aid; but the latter was beaten in a decisive battle; the fleet which defended the city on the side of the river was burned soon afterwards; the fortifications were stormed; and the citizens, after a prolonged resistance, submitted to the cruelties and the depredations of a barbarous and rapacious enemy.
Motamid with his family and his guards still held the citadel. The last prince of the Beni-Abbad had displayed in his extremity the courage and resolution of a Roman veteran. When at last convinced of the futility of the astrological predictions which had deluded him, he abandoned the society of his charlatans and exchanged the astrolabe for the scimetar. With eagerness he courted death in the heat of the assault, but, despite the most reckless exposure, he escaped without a wound. Encompassed on all sides by the enemy, the citadel could not long be defended, and all overtures for a capitulation were met by the reply that no conditions would be granted. At length Motamid sought the camp of the Almoravides alone; the citadel was surrendered; and the instant evacuation of Ronda and Mutola, which were in charge of two of his sons, was demanded by the imperious Yusuf. Motamid was sent to Aghmat, a city near Morocco, where, strictly confined and his most pressing wants neglected, it was with great difficulty that his family, condemned by necessity to the most menial occupations and clothed in rags, could obtain sufficient food for the sustenance of life.
The capture of Seville was immediately followed by the submission of Almeria, Denia, Xativa, and Murcia. The principality of Badajoz, which comprehended the greater portion of the modern kingdom of Portugal, was overrun and conquered; the recent acquisitions of the Christians shared the fate of the Moorish domain; and the court of Castile heard with dismay of the sudden loss of a territory which had necessitated so much labor and time to acquire. Motawakkil, Prince of Badajoz, after his treasures had been wrung from him by torture, was put to death on the highway by the express command of the Moslem general. Of the important cities of the South, Valencia alone remained. It was held by the Cid, who, with a heroism that largely redeemed his bad faith and notorious inhumanity, defied for five years the combined resources of the Almoravide monarchy.
In the annals of history or the creations of romance there exists no individual whose personality is at once so well defined and so obscure as that of Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar. Fiction has adorned his character and his career with the noble attributes of piety, valor, generosity, military genius, religious zeal. To the ignorant and pompous Castilian, he is to-day the embodiment of chivalrous knighthood. The Church still regards him as one of the earliest and most devoted of her champions. Historical tradition represents him as one of the founders of the Spanish monarchy. The oldest ballad in the Castilian language was composed by some unknown genius to recount his exploits, which have also been celebrated in innumerable dramas, epics, and romances. Not less than a hundred and fifty of the latter have to-day a place in the literature of Spain. On the other hand, respectable and well-informed authorities have doubted his existence. Grave historians and critics have disputed the evidence of his identity. Scholars whose intellectual attainments entitle them to respect have pronounced the famous hero a myth, and have strenuously maintained that the accounts of his deeds which have descended to posterity are nothing more than romantic fables. In all the domain of historical criticism, there is no question more fascinating than that which involves the existence and the achievements of the Cid. The fact is—and out of it has grown all the ambiguity connected with his name—that this extraordinary personage was made up of two distinct characters. The Cid of romance was the exemplar of courtesy, of magnanimity, of honor, the chivalrous avenger of the oppressed, the model of every Christian virtue. The Cid of history was something very different, and it is with him alone that we have now to deal.
The laborious investigations of distinguished Orientalists, and among them the exhaustive and valuable researches of Dozy, have established beyond peradventure the existence and the deeds of the Cid. From Arabic manuscripts, undeciphered until the middle of this century, have been gradually collected and compiled the incidents which compose his eventful and stirring career. The evident authenticity of these memorials, the absence of any motive to exaggerate the prowess or the accomplishments of an enemy, the well-known accuracy of the Arab historians, the interesting phases of life which they depict, the honest indignation of the writers, unaccustomed to the systematic disregard of solemn engagements, the detailed enumeration of the spoils of the battle and the foray, place them among the most valuable contributions of mediæval antiquity. Their publication and study have removed the idle myths, the absurdities, the irreconcilable contradictions, which until then had obscured the story of the idolized hero of Old Castile.
Of his titles, by which he is much better known to readers than by his family name, that of the Cid, now distinctively applied to him, was an honorable appellation, a corrupted form of the Arabic Sidi, or Lord, once given indiscriminately to persons of rank by the Moslems. Its prevalent use during the Middle Ages was principally due to the fact that public documents, epistles, and treaties, addressed to or executed by Castilian and Moorish dignitaries, were drawn up conjointly in Latin and Arabic, and not infrequently in the latter language alone. The other title, Campeador, was derived from the custom of chosen warriors defying each other to single combat in the face of their respective armies, a favorite mode among semicivilized nations of exhibiting individual bravery and address, and older than the famous encounter between David and Goliath. The political disorganization of the entire Peninsula, even more apparent in the Christian than in the Moslem states, the still doubtful and unsettled relations between ruler and subject, the dangerous liberties enjoyed by ambitious individuals who had the courage and the insolence to demand them, the imperative necessities the monarch was under to propitiate his powerful vassals, the presence and example of foreign adventurers, unaccustomed to legal restraint and acknowledging no authority but that of the sword, all of these abnormal social conditions rendered it a matter of little difficulty for a man of valor and energy to rise to great power and eminence in the state. In those days personal prowess was the highest title to distinction. There was no room in the disposition and calling of the rude soldier of fortune for the exercise of the milder virtues. War was conducted with a revolting brutality that would have disgraced a race of savages. Familiarity with scenes of blood had blunted all the nobler instincts of human nature, and even gentle women countenanced by their presence and their approbation deeds from which they should have recoiled with horror. The ecclesiastical order promoted by its advice and absolved by its spiritual power the perpetration of massacres, rapes, tortures, the starvation of prisoners, the repudiation of treaties. No preponderating influence attached to the occupancy of the throne. The prerogatives of the sovereign had not yet been accurately determined. His authority, based upon ill-defined precedent and tradition, was in general limited by his ability to enforce his commands. The great vassals of the crown frequently defied him, cast him into prison, drove him into exile. The offence of treason was subjected to wide latitude of interpretation and to even greater flexibility in the application of its punishment. Sometimes it meant one thing, at other times another. The most notorious rebels were often pardoned, and again received into favor. Insignificant culprits were frequently condemned to endure the most severe penalties. A leader who had distinguished himself in battle, who was indulgent to his followers and liberal to the populace, who considered clemency as an evidence of cowardice, and the extermination of an enemy as a military virtue, was sure to excite more admiration than the pampered heir of a score of kings.