HISTORY
OF THE
Moorish Empire
IN EUROPE

BY

S. P. SCOTT

AUTHOR OF “THROUGH SPAIN”

Corduba famosa locuples de nomine dicta,

Inclyta deliciis, rebus quoque splendida cunctis

Hroswitha, Passio S. Pelagii

IN THREE VOLUMES

VOL. II.

PHILADELPHIA & LONDON
J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY
1904

Copyright, 1904 By J. B. Lippincott Company

Published March, 1904

Printed by J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U. S. A.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME II.

HISTORY OF THE MOORISH EMPIRE IN EUROPE

CHAPTER XV
THE MOSLEM DOMINATION IN SICILY
827–1072

Classic Souvenirs of Sicily—Its Great Natural Advantages—It becomes the Stronghold of the Papacy—Invasion of the Arabs—They besiege Syracuse—Strength of that City—Failure of the Enterprise—Capture of Palermo—Rapid Progress of the Moslems—Condition of Italy—Arab Alliance with Naples—Messina taken—Betrayal of Castrogiovanni—Rout of the Greeks near Syracuse—Feuds of the Conquerors—Their Successes in Italy—Second Siege of Syracuse—The City is stormed and destroyed by Ibn-Mohammed—Peril of Rome—Appearance of the Normans in the South of Europe—They invade Sicily—Siege of Palermo—Subjection of the Island—Influence of the Moslems over their Conquerors—General Condition of Sicily—Its Civilization—Palermo and its Environs—Science, Art, and Literature—The Great Work of Edrisi—Arab Occupation of Sardinia, Crete, Corsica, and Malta.

The island of Sicily, by reason of its geographical position, its extraordinary fertility, and its commercial advantages, was one of the most renowned and coveted domains of the ancient world. Its situation, near the centre of the Mediterranean, afforded rare facilities for participation in the trade and enjoyment of the culture of those polished nations whose shores were washed by that famous sea. Its soil yielded, with insignificant labor, the choicest products of both the temperate and the torrid zones. Its coast was provided with numerous and commodious harbors. That of Messina permitted vessels of the heaviest tonnage to discharge their cargoes in security at her quays. Those of Syracuse and Palermo were double, for the use of men-of-war and merchantmen, as were the port of Tyre and the Kothon of Carthage. The Phœnicians, at a period far anterior to any mentioned in history, had established and maintained important trading stations at points subsequently marked by the erection of vast and flourishing cities. Doric and Ionic colonists, in their turn, carried thither the elegant luxury and fastidious tastes which distinguished the finished civilization of antiquity. This mysterious island, where were manifested some of the most appalling and inexplicable phenomena of nature, was the home of frightful monsters, the scene of dire enchantments, the inspiration of Homeric fable and mythological legend. Here was the haunt of the dreaded Cyclops. A short distance from its shores were practised the infernal arts of the beauteous but vindictive Circe. Here passed the Argonauts on their triumphant return from Colchis. To the Greek succeeded the Carthaginian, who might assert, with no little show of justice, a claim to the inheritance of his Phœnician ancestors. Next came the mighty and resistless supremacy of Rome. Sicily was one of the first, as it was among the richest, of the provinces early acquired by her arms. It long shared with Egypt the honorable distinction of being one of the granaries of Italy. The great resources of the island in the days of the Republic are indicated by the value of the spoils appropriated by the avarice of a rapacious governor. The corrupt accumulations of Verres, during the course of his magistracy, amounted to forty million sesterces. Besides the money of which he plundered the unfortunate dependents of the Republic are enumerated statues, paintings, bronzes, utensils sacred to the service of the gods, the ornaments of the altars, the costly offerings with which the affectionate gratitude of the pious and the opulent had enriched her magnificent temples. In intellectual advancement Sicily kept well abreast of her enlightened neighbors. The choicest works of the Attic and of the Roman muse were read with delight by the polished society of her cities. The masterpieces of Aristophanes and Terence were enacted with applause in her spacious theatres, resplendent with many colored marbles and decorations of beaten gold. The intimate social and commercial relations maintained with the cities of Magna Græcia aided, in no inconsiderable degree, the development of Sicilian civilization. The citizens of Messina and Palermo could perhaps claim a common origin with the refined inhabitants of Crotona and Tarentum.

Thus had Sicily, by her amalgamation of widely different races and through her political affiliations, inherited all the noblest traditions of antiquity, all the maxims of Oriental philosophy, of Grecian culture, of Phœnician enterprise, and of Roman power. With her history are associated the names of Hasdrubal and Hamilcar, of Pyrrhus and Marcellus, of Dionysius and Archimedes. But long before the period of Byzantine degeneracy so fatal to the Empire, her prosperity had greatly declined. Even in the time of the Cæsars the evils of a venal and rapacious administration had been felt in the imposition of onerous taxes, and the consequent and inevitable decay of agriculture. Insurrections were common, and characterized by all the atrocities of anarchy. The harvests were wantonly destroyed. The villas of the Roman nobles, whose extensive domains embraced the larger portion of the arable land, were given to the flames. Bands of robbers roamed at will through the deserted settlements. The cities were not infrequently stormed and plundered. The tillage of the soil was no longer safe or profitable. Extensive tracts of territory, whose extraordinary and varied productiveness had formerly astonished the stranger, were abandoned to pasturage, an unfailing sign of national decadence. The care of the flocks was committed to slaves, whose savage aspect and brutal habits proclaimed their barbarian lineage. Clothed in skins and armed with rude weapons, they were a menace alike to the industrious citizen and the belated wayfarer. No wages or sustenance was bestowed upon these outlaws, who were expected and encouraged to supply by acts of violence the necessaries denied by the neglect and parsimony of their masters. Others, whose ferocious temper and habitual insubordination demanded restraint, labored from early dawn in fetters, and were confined in filthy dungeons during the night. The most shocking crimes were perpetrated with impunity. The spoils which had escaped the robber could not be rescued from the vigilant perquisitions of the farmer of the revenue. The tax upon grain amounted to twenty-five per cent., and the impositions upon articles of commerce and the scanty manufactures which had survived the general destruction of trade and the mechanical arts were apportioned in a corresponding ratio, and were collected with uncompromising severity. With the prevalent insecurity of person and property, maritime enterprise was checked, and the fleets of foreign merchantmen which had once crowded the seaports of the island disappeared. The weak and corrupt government of Constantinople, dominated by eunuchs and disgraced by the political intrigues of ecclesiastics and women, was powerless to correct the disorders of a distant and almost unknown province. Theological disputes and the pleasures of the circus engrossed the attention of the successors of the martial Constantine, whose authority, disputed at home, was often scarcely acknowledged in their insular possessions. The exaggerated perils of the strait, aided perhaps by a knowledge of the impoverished condition of the country, may have deterred the victorious barbarians from any prolonged occupation of Sicily. While they overran the country at different times, they left no traces of their sojourn,—neither colonies, institutions, racial impressions, nor physical peculiarities. But this comparative exemption from the common ruin seems to have been productive of no substantial benefit. The spirit of the people was not adapted either to the requirements of self-government or to the imperious demands of vassalage. They were at once turbulent, rebellious, servile. In the character of the Sicilian of the ninth century, as in that of the Calabrian of modern times, every evil instinct was predominant. The seditious spirit of the peasantry, aided by their proverbial inconstancy, was one of the principal causes which prevented the consolidation of the Mohammedan power.

From being the seat of Grecian civilization, the granary of Rome, the theatre of barbarian license, Sicily had become the nursery of the Papacy. It furnished bold and zealous defenders of the chair of St. Peter. Its opportune contributions replenished the exhausted treasury of the Vatican. There the genius of St. Gregory first laid the foundations of the temporal power of the Holy See. There was situated the richest portion of the possessions of the Roman hierarchy. There were matured political measures which were destined to exercise for generations the talents of the ablest statesmen of Europe. At an early period the popes acquired an important following among the peasantry of the island. The ignorance of the populace, and the eagerness with which it received impressions of the supernatural; the associations derived from the legends of antiquity, many of which, with political foresight, had been bodily appropriated by the Fathers of the Church; the absolution promised, without reserve, for the most heinous offences, had allured thousands upon thousands of proselytes to the gorgeous altars of Rome. The institution of the monastic orders and the vast number of idlers increased tenfold the burdens of an oppressed and impoverished country. It was said that the Benedictines alone possessed nearly half of the island. Convents surrounded with beautiful gardens and supplied with all the requirements of luxury arose on every side. The mountain-caves swarmed with hermits. The miracles performed by holy men and women surpassed in wonder and mystery the achievements of mythological heroes,—the conquerors of Cyclops, the captors of dragons. Martyrs underwent the most exquisite tortures with unshaken constancy. In no other province which recognized the predominance of the Papacy was there greater reverence for ecclesiastical tradition; and, as a legitimate consequence, in no other was prevalent a more marked degree of ignorance in the masses, or a more habitual defiance of the laws of morality and justice by those indebted for their superiority to the influence of the Church. The number of slaves owned by the Holy See and employed upon its estates was enormous. The greater part of its wealth was computed to be derived from their labor and from the traffic in their children. The arts of the confessor secured from the wealthy penitent immense estates and valuable legacies, the reluctant tribute of terror and remorse. These possessions, once in the iron grasp of the sacerdotal order, a master endowed with legal immortality, were never relinquished. The oblations of grateful convalescents enriched the treasuries of chapel and cathedral. Pilgrims flocked in great numbers to those shrines which enjoyed an extensive reputation for sanctity, and whose relics were believed to possess unfailing virtues for the cure of the sick and the relief of the afflicted. A profitable trade was supported at the expense of the superstitious credulity of these devout strangers. Well aware of its importance as an adjunct to their temporal power, and taking advantage of the relations of its parishioners with the Byzantine court, the early bishops of Rome extended every aid to the Sicilian branch of the Catholic hierarchy. It enjoyed peculiar privileges. It was exempted from vexatious impositions. Its legates were received with distinguished courtesy by the papal court. Gregory founded from his private purse seven monasteries in the island. Adrian frequently referred to it as the citadel of the Italian clergy. No portion of the patrimony of St. Peter could boast a priesthood more opulent, more arrogant, more powerful, more corrupt.

At the time of the Moorish invasion Sicily had become thoroughly Byzantine. The glorious traditions of the Greek occupation were forgotten. In Messina alone the style of architecture, the physical characteristics of the people, the comparative purity of language, revealed significant traces of the influence of the most polished nation of antiquity. In no other province subject to Rome had the brutal doctrine of force, the basis of both republican and imperial power, been so sedulously inculcated and applied. The harvests of Sicily aided largely to sustain the idle population of the metropolis of the world. Its commerce and its revenues furnished inexhaustible resources to the venality and peculations of the proconsul. The Roman aristocracy had there its most sumptuous villas, its largest and most productive estates, its most numerous bodies of retainers. It was not unusual for a patrician in the days of the Empire to own twenty thousand slaves.

Byzantine degeneracy had not failed to cast its blight over this, one of the fairest possessions of the emperors of the East. After the reign of Justinian, no attempt was made by the exhausted state, scarcely able to defend its capital, to send colonists to the island. The debased populace, the refuse of a score of nations, ignorant of the very name of patriotism, destitute of every principle of honor or virtue, sank each day still lower in the scale of humanity.

The condition of Italy was even worse. The Lombards had conquered all of that peninsula except the Exarchate of Ravenna. To their dominion had succeeded the contentions of a multitude of insignificant principalities, inflamed with mutual and irreconcilable hostility, united in nothing except jealousy of the papal power. The incredible perfidy and fraud which afterwards became the peculiar attributes of the Italian political system—whose maxims, elaborated by Machiavelli, have excited the wonder and contempt of succeeding ages—had then their origin. The entire country was the scene of perpetual discord, treachery, and intrigue. In the latter the Pope, urged by necessity and inclination alike, bore no insignificant share. The prevalence of such conditions came within a hair’s-breadth of changing, perhaps forever, the political complexion of Europe and the sphere of Christian influence. The feuds of petty rulers were aggravated rather than reconciled in the presence of the common danger. The general anarchy was eminently favorable to foreign conquest. The Lombard princes solicited the aid of the Saracens. The latter profited by every occasion of dissension and enmity. They enlisted with equal facility and disloyalty under the banners of every faction. Twice they ravaged the environs of Rome. At different times they were in the pay of the Holy See. A series of fortunate accidents alone prevented the enthronement of an Arab emir in the Vatican and the transformation of St. Peter’s into a Mohammedan mosque.

The vicinity of Sicily to the main-land of Africa had early suggested to the Saracens the conquest of that island. In the seventh century it had been visited by marauding expeditions from Egypt. Syracuse was stormed in 669, and the treasures of the Roman churches, placed there for security from barbarian attack, were borne away to Alexandria. Before crossing the Strait of Gibraltar, and even while the Berber tribes still threatened the security of his outposts, the enterprising Musa—as has already been recounted in these pages—had despatched his son Abdallah upon a predatory expedition among the islands of the Mediterranean. In Majorca, Minorca, Sardinia, and Sicily a large quantity of plunder was obtained and carried off by these adventurous freebooters. Other expeditions from time to time, and with varying success for the space of more than a century, followed the example of that organized by Musa. Despite these inroads, amicable relations subsisted, for the most part, between the Byzantine governors of Sicily and the Aghlabite princes of Africa. They despatched embassies, made protestations of mutual attachment, negotiated treaties, exchanged presents. But under all these plausible appearances of peace and friendship there lurked, on the one side, the deadly hatred and ambitious hopes of the fanatic whose creed was sustained by arms, and, on the other, an indefinable dread of inevitable calamity which could not long be averted.

A strong resemblance exists between the historical legends from which are derived our information concerning the Saracen occupations of Spain and Sicily. In both cases a real or pretended injury to female innocence is said to have been the indirect cause of the invasion of the Moslems. In the army of the Byzantine emperor stationed in Sicily was one Euphemius, an officer of high rank, eminent talents, and unquestioned courage, who, having become enamored of a nun, invaded the sanctity of the cloister, carried off the recluse, and, despite her remonstrances, made her his wife. This act of sacrilege, while far from being without precedent in the lawless condition of society under the lax and cruel administration of the Greek emperors, was not in this instance committed by a personage of sufficient authority to enable him to escape the consequences of his rashness. The relatives of the damsel appealed for redress to the Byzantine court, the demand was heeded, and a mandate was despatched by the Emperor to the governor of Sicily to deprive the daring ravisher of his nose, the penalty prescribed by the sanguinary code of Greek jurisprudence for the offence. Euphemius, having learned of the punishment with which he was threatened and relying on his popularity, endeavored to frustrate the execution of the sentence by exciting an insurrection. The enterprise failed through the cowardice and treachery of some of the leading conspirators, and the baffled rebel was compelled to seek refuge among the Saracens of Africa. The reigning sovereign of the Aghlabite dynasty, whose seat of government was at Kairoan, was Ziadet-Allah, a prince of warlike tastes, implacable ferocity, and licentious manners. No sooner had he landed than Euphemius sent messages to the African Sultan, imploring his assistance, and promising that in case it was afforded Sicily should be erected into an Aghlabite principality, evidenced by the payment of tribute and the acknowledgment of supremacy. The offer was tempting to the cupidity and ambition of the Moslem ruler, and the powerful following of the fugitive made its accomplishment apparently a matter of little difficulty. In the mean time, however, envoys had arrived from the Sicilian government charged to remonstrate, in the name of the Emperor, against this encouragement of rebellion and violation of neutrality by a friendly power. Thus harassed by the arguments of the rival emissaries, and weighing the political advantages which might result from the observation of the faith of treaties on the one hand, and from the acquisition of valuable territory and the extension of the spiritual domain of Islam on the other, Ziadet-Allah remained for a long time undecided. In the time of the early khalifs the material benefits accruing from warfare with the infidel—a duty enjoined upon every Moslem—would hardly have been subordinated to a mere question of casuistry. But the condition of the provinces subject to the Aghlabite dynasty, whose throne had recently been shaken by a religious revolution, rendered the cordial acquiescence and co-operation of the discordant elements of African society indispensably requisite in a measure of national moment. The chieftains and nobles were convoked in solemn assembly. The avarice of the soldier, the fanaticism of the dervish, the aspirations of the commander were stimulated by every device of intrigue and by every resource of oratory. The scruples of the conscientious were overcome by quotations from the Koran inculcating the obligation of unremitting hostility to the infidel. A plausible pretext for breaking the treaty was found in the fact that one of its main provisions had already been evaded by the Greeks themselves, who had neglected to liberate certain Moslems who had fallen into their hands. The arguments of those who favored hostilities finally prevailed. The opposition—which had been organized from purely interested motives—disappeared; the assembly, controlled by the skilful arts of the representatives of the government animated by enthusiastic zeal for conquest, declared for immediate action, and the sounds of preparation were soon heard in the city of Susa, whose harbor had been made the rendezvous of the expedition. The supreme command was intrusted to Asad-Ibn-Forat, Kadi of Tunis, a personage more renowned as a jurist and a theologian than as a master of the art of war, and who, like Musa, had already passed the ordinary limit of manly vigor and military ambition. A great force was mustered for the enterprise from every part of Northern Africa. The wild Berbers, whose faith was weak and vacillating except when revived by the prospect of booty, assembled in vast numbers. A fleet of a hundred vessels, exclusive of the squadron of the rebels, was equipped, and sailed from Susa on the thirteenth of June, 827. Three days afterwards the army disembarked at Mazara, which city was at once surrendered by the partisans of Euphemius, who outnumbered the garrison. The imperial army soon appeared, and a bloody engagement took place, in which the great numerical superiority of the Sicilians availed nothing against the desperate valor of the invaders, well aware that there was no refuge for them in case of defeat. The shouts of the Christians mingled with the chants of the soldiers of Islam as they repeated, according to custom, the verses of the Koran; the shock of the Arab cavalry was irresistible, and, their lines once broken, the Sicilians were routed on every side and dispersed in headlong flight. The Moslem victory was complete. The booty was enormous, not the least of it being the slaves who were sent in ship-loads to Africa. Such was the distrust of their allies, that Euphemius and his followers, although constituting a body respectable in numbers, were not permitted to take part in the battle. Neither the remembrance of personal indignity and disappointed ambition, nor the thirst for vengeance cherished by the exiles, was sufficient to remove from the mind of the Moslem general the feeling of suspicion which he entertained for their professions, and the contempt with which he regarded the proverbial duplicity of the Byzantine character.

A garrison having been stationed at Mazara, the Moslems marched on Syracuse. This city, although it had lost much of its former wealth and splendor, was still one of the most important seaports of the Mediterranean. Its ancient circumference of one hundred and eighty stadii—eleven and a half miles—was practically the same as when described by Strabo. A triple line of defences still encompassed it. Almost surrounded by the sea, it possessed two harbors—or rather basins—which afforded not only a safe anchorage for merchant vessels, but excellent means of protection in time of war. As at Carthage, these artificial harbors were supplied with well-appointed dock-yards and arsenals, and constituted the stronghold of the naval power of Sicily. The reverses of fortune it had experienced had not entirely deprived Syracuse of its superb monuments of antiquity. Many of the palaces which antedated the Roman occupation had been preserved. The fortifications which had repelled so many invaders were standing. At every turn the eye was delighted with the view of elegant porticoes and arches, towering columns, vast amphitheatres. In the suburbs were scattered the villas of the nobility, built upon the sites once occupied by the winter homes of those Roman patricians whose extortions had impoverished the island, and whose wealth had enabled them to command the services of the ministers of dissipation and luxury from every quarter of the globe. Strong in its natural situation, the city had been rendered doubly formidable by the skill of the military engineer. Its walls were lofty and of great thickness. Upon the side of the sea the aid of a powerful navy was indispensable to an attacking enemy. Aware of the great strategic value of the place, the imperial government had exercised unusual care in the preservation and repair of its defences. The only obstacle to a successful resistance was the extent of the fortifications, which required a garrison of many thousand soldiers to man them properly. The habitual carelessness and imaginary security of her pleasure-loving citizens had left Syracuse totally unprepared for a siege. At the approach of the Moslems, every expedient was adopted to remedy this culpable neglect. Supplies were hastily collected from the villages and fertile lands in the neighborhood. The precious vessels and furniture of the churches and religious houses were carried into the citadel. From the trembling artisans and laborers, who, with their families, had fled in haste to the city to escape the lances of the Berber cavalry, already scouting in the neighborhood, a numerous but inefficient militia was organized. In order to gain time, the progress of the Moslems was stayed by unprofitable negotiations, and a large sum of money was offered as a condition of their leaving the city unmolested. Euphemius, true to the base instincts of his race, and apparently eager to secure an ignominious distinction among his unprincipled countrymen by the commission of a double treason, secretly exhorted the garrison to a vigorous defence by promises of assistance and by the inculcation of patriotic maxims. The pretexts prompted by Byzantine perfidy could not long impose upon the wily and penetrating Ibn-Forat. His spies revealed the plans of the enemy; the Moslem army broke camp; and a few days afterwards the invaders appeared before the walls.

Notwithstanding their extensive preparations for the campaign, the Saracens were unprovided with the military appliances necessary to make the siege successful. Their engineers had not yet attained that superiority in their profession which subsequently enabled them to rank with the best soldiers of the age. Their great victories had been won, for the most part, by the activity of their operations, and by their intrepid behavior in the face of an enemy rather than by endurance and discipline. The transports were inadequate to an attack by water, which required the services of a fleet of well-built and well-protected galleys. In addition to these disadvantages, the force of Ibn-Forat had been reduced by the establishment of garrisons, by the casualties of battle, by disease, by desertion. A large detachment was constantly detailed to guard the prisoners and the spoil. Entire companies of Berbers, weary of the monotony and restraints of the camp, had abandoned the army after the battle, to indulge in their favorite pastimes of rapine and massacre. Thus hampered, a partial and ineffectual blockade was all that the Moorish general could hope to accomplish. He therefore threw up intrenchments and despatched a messenger to Africa for reinforcements.

It was not long before a more formidable enemy than the Byzantines attacked the camp of the besiegers. The country had been completely stripped of provisions by the foraging parties of both armies. Such supplies as had been overlooked by the Sicilians were wasted or destroyed by the Moors, who began to experience the effects of their improvidence in the sufferings of starvation. The soldiers devoured their horses. But these were not sufficiently numerous to satisfy the cravings of hunger, and the famishing Moslems were driven to the use of unwholesome plants and herbs. A mutiny broke out, which was at once suppressed by the iron will of the undaunted commander, who threatened, in case the mutineers did not return to their duty, to burn his ships. At length reinforcements and an abundant supply of provisions appeared in the camp, and, the spirits of the soldiery having revived, the lines were drawn still closer around the beleaguered city.

The latter had been strengthened by an army of Venetians under the Doge, Justinian Participazus, who had been ordered by the Emperor, Michael the Stammerer, to drive the Moslems from Syracuse. The task, however, proved too arduous for the dignitary, who seems to have been endowed with more conceit than military ability. While their communications by sea were not intercepted, the people of Syracuse were in no danger of famine, but on the land side the city was completely invested. The country was gradually occupied by the Saracens; a large force commanded by the governor of Palermo was decoyed into an ambush and cut to pieces; the prestige of victory tempted many subjects of the Emperor to renounce their allegiance and their faith for the code of Mohammed; and, although no impression had yet been made on the stupendous fortifications, the advantages of the war seemed to be entirely on the side of the Moslems. Disheartened by their enforced inactivity, and harassed by the clamors of the peasantry, who had witnessed from the ramparts the spoliation and ruin of their homes, the Sicilian authorities made overtures for peace, which were disdainfully refused.

But fortune, which had hitherto favored the invader, now deserted his standard. A pestilence, the result of exposure and unwholesome food, decimated the besiegers. Among the first to succumb was the veteran general, whose martial spirit and indomitable energy had been the soul of the enterprise. With him perished the only hand capable of restraining and utilizing the unruly elements which composed the Saracen army. Insubordination and tumult immediately arose. Amidst the confusion, the hostages and the commanders of fortresses and towns subdued by the Moslem arms who were detained as prisoners escaped. Information was at once spread throughout the island of the loss sustained by the enemy and of the demoralized condition of his camp. Confidence and order were not restored by the announcement that Mohammed-Ibn-al-Gewari had, by the suffrages of the soldiery, been raised to the dignity of lieutenant of the Sultan, when it was disclosed that his promotion had been brought about by the enemies of the sovereign; his chief title to their favor being subserviency to a faction whose overthrow had been mainly effected by the courage and address of the deceased commander. The favorable auspices under which the operations of the Moslems had hitherto been conducted no longer encouraged them with the prospect of success. Disease in its most appalling form, aggravated by neglect of the simplest sanitary precautions, stalked through their encampment. In addition to these misfortunes, the kingdom of Ziadet-Allah was harassed by the incursion of a band of Tuscan adventurers, who defeated the Sultan’s troops in a series of encounters and carried their victorious standards almost to the gates of Kairoan. Under these discouraging circumstances it was determined to raise the siege. The troops and baggage were embarked; but just as the fleet was ready to sail, a great squadron, sent by the Emperor to relieve the city, closed the entrance to the harbor. The Moorish army was hastily landed, the supplies and camp equipage were thrown into the sea, and the ships set on fire to avoid their seizure by the enemy. The sick were abandoned to their fate, and the disheartened soldiery, almost without provisions or the means of shelter, took refuge in the mountains, a day’s journey from the scene of their privations and discomfiture. Thus ended the first siege of Syracuse, whose immunity from capture was due more to the strength of its walls and the deficiency of its besiegers in military engines than to the resolution and intrepidity of its defenders. Half a century was to elapse before the cry of the muezzin would be heard from the tower of the cathedral, or the tramp of the Arab squadrons resound through the streets which had witnessed the exploits of Pyrrhus, Agathocles, and Marcellus.

In the elevated and salubrious region where stood the city of Mineo, to which they were led by Euphemius, the Saracens speedily found relief. The plague disappeared. Foraging parties were sent out, which returned with an abundance of supplies. The strength and courage of the despairing Moslems were restored; several fortified places fell into the hands of their flying squadrons, and, finally, they felt themselves strong enough to attempt an enterprise of the greatest importance. Near the interior of the island stood the fortress of Castrogiovanni,—the Castrum-Ennæ of antiquity. It was built upon a rock rising high above a table-land, whose surface, broken and rugged from the effects of volcanic action, resembled in its sharp and undulating ridges the billows of a stormy sea. Upon the summit of the rock once stood a temple dedicated to the worship of the goddess Ceres, the favorite deity of the pagan Sicilians. Every resource of engineering skill had been brought to bear to insure the impregnability of this formidable citadel. Numerous springs supplied the inhabitants with fresh water. With its natural advantages for defence, supplemented thus with all the artifices of human ingenuity, the siege of Castrogiovanni might well have deterred the boldest captain. But, undismayed by their unfortunate experience at Syracuse, the Moslems intrenched themselves before this stronghold. A sally of the Byzantine garrison was repulsed with great carnage. Communication with the surrounding country was cut off. In order publicly to announce the permanence of their occupancy, substantial barracks were raised for the troops, and money bearing the name and device of the Aghlabite dynasty was coined from silver reserved from the share of royal spoil. Once more the Saracens were called upon to pay the last honors to their general, and the army chose as its commander, Zobeir-Ibn-Ghauth. The latter proved no match for the active Theodotus, governor of Castrogiovanni, who craftily intercepted and cut to pieces a foraging detachment, and soon afterwards defeated the Moslems in a pitched battle in which they lost a thousand men. The siege was raised; the invaders retreated in confusion to Mineo; the inhabitants of the smaller fortresses, which the Moslems had occupied on their route, rebelled and massacred the garrisons; the sight of a turbaned horseman was sufficient to infuriate the peasantry of an entire province; and after two years of frightful privation and incessant conflict, the Moslems saw themselves restricted to the isolated fortified towns of Mineo and Mazara, which they themselves had taken without difficulty, and of whose possession they were scarcely sure for a single day in the face of a vindictive and determined enemy.

While the affairs of the invaders had grown desperate, and the speedy abandonment of the island seemed inevitable, fortune, with her proverbial fickleness, once more smiled upon them. A fleet manned by Spanish adventurers and commanded by an experienced officer, Asbagh-Ibn-Wikil, landed supplies and troops which strengthened the position of the despairing Saracens. The Greek emperor, Michael the Stammerer, died, and was succeeded by the weak and cruel Theophilus, who, amidst the pleasures of the Byzantine capital and the indulgence of his savage and perfidious instincts, had neither time nor treasure to devote to the recovery of the most important island of his dominions. The Venetian squadron in the pay of the Emperor, left without co-operation with the land forces, seeing little prospect of victory and still less of plunder, sailed ingloriously away, abandoning the decimated Byzantine army to the tender mercies of the Moorish pirates, who landing on all sides again swarmed over the island.

The civil commotions which had for a time seriously menaced the power of Ziadet-Allah having been quelled, he now felt himself at liberty to afford substantial aid to his subjects in Sicily. An imposing fleet of three hundred ships, transporting an army of twenty thousand men, sailed in the year 830 from the harbors of Africa. A force including such a great variety of nationalities had rarely assembled under the banner of any leader. Every tribe of Berbers and Arabs, from the Nile to the Atlantic, was represented in this motley and turbulent host. Yemenite exiles, refugees from Persia, renegade Greeks, and Spanish Moors of every faction which, in turn, had desolated the most enchanting and fertile provinces of the Peninsula, hastened to enlist in the invading army. The politic Ziadet-Allah offered with success tempting inducements to the enrolment of the Tunisian rebels who had recently disputed his authority; convinced that few of those dangerous subjects who could be prevailed upon to face the pestilential climate of the Sicilian coast and the weapons of the Byzantine veterans would ever return to vex the tranquillity of his empire. This expedition also was placed under the command of Asbagh-Ibn-Wikil, whose former attempt, already mentioned, had been merely in the nature of a reconnoissance. The invading army, despite its formidable appearance, failed to realize the expectations which had been raised by its numbers and its boasted valor. Without discipline, and wholly bent on plunder, its force was consumed in mutinous tumults and predatory excursions. The country, already devastated by the roving squadrons of both nations, was now compelled to sustain another oppressive visitation by robbers more pitiless and more insatiable than their predecessors. Still the enterprise of Asbagh was not entirely fruitless. Theodotus, the Byzantine general, was defeated and slain under the walls of Mineo, and the strong town of Ghalulia was taken by storm. But here the plague broke out in the Moslem camp. Asbagh and his principal officers perished; the deaths increased so rapidly that a retreat was resolved upon, and the Saracens, after sustaining considerable loss at the hands of the enemy, embarked in disorder and returned, a portion to Africa, but the majority to Spain.

Meanwhile a great blow had been struck by a detachment of Asbagh’s army acting, as it seems, independently of his orders. A division of Africans appeared suddenly before Palermo. The siege, which lasted a year, was pushed with an energy and a perseverance hitherto unprecedented in the military operations of the impetuous but easily disheartened Moslems. The defeat of the Greeks before Mineo deprived the garrison of all hope of relief from that quarter. The Emperor, with characteristic negligence, afforded but slight and ineffectual aid. Abandoned to their fate, the soldiery, reinforced by the public-spirited citizens, conducted an heroic but unavailing defence. In addition to the inevitable casualties of war, their ranks were reduced by hunger and the plague. From seventy thousand their numbers fell to three thousand within twelve months,—an almost incredible mortality. It was not in the power of human endurance to longer support such sufferings and privations. The governor negotiated an honorable capitulation, and the remnant of the garrison was permitted to depart without hinderance, retaining their arms and effects. The slaves of the Byzantine patricians experienced a change of masters, and the most famous insular emporium of the Mediterranean, whose traditions dated to the highest antiquity, whose history was inseparably interwoven with the stirring events of the fierce struggle of Rome and Carthage for the supremacy of the world, whose magnificence and sensuality were proverbial among the polished voluptuaries of Italy and the Orient, passed into the hands of the Saracen, to be raised under his auspices to a still higher degree of commercial greatness and material prosperity.

With the excellent base of operations afforded by the capture of Palermo, the affairs of the Moslems assumed a more promising aspect. No longer were they confined to the insufficient and precarious shelter of isolated castles and insignificant hamlets. The naval advantages of the city, whose harbor had been improved and enlarged by the labor of many successive nations, were incalculable. Easy and rapid communication was now possible with the ports of Africa. Supplies and reinforcements could be introduced into any part of the island in defiance of the utmost exertions of the naval power of Constantinople. The fertile territory included in this new conquest was capable, even under an imperfect and negligent system of cultivation, of furnishing support to a numerous army. Nor was the prestige attaching to the name of Palermo the least of the manifold benefits resulting from its possession. No city was better known throughout the countries bordering on the Mediterranean. It was founded by the Phœnicians. It had been one of the most frequented marts of antiquity. Tyre, Carthage, Athens, Rome, Constantinople, had in turn been enriched by its commerce, and had contaminated it with their vices. In natural advantages, in facility of intercourse with distant countries, in the possession of a trade established long before any mentioned in the earliest historical records, in the boundless agricultural possibilities of its adjacent territory, in the convenience and excellence of its port as a naval station, Palermo could vie with even the greatest commercial centres of the ancient or the medieval world. For the power which could take and hold such a city, the subjugation of Sicily was but a question of time.

The serious results of its occupation soon became apparent even to the inefficient and corrupt government of the Bosphorus. The depopulation of the city, where streets of palaces and rows of elegant suburban villas awaited the claim of the military adventurer, allured from every settlement of Northern Africa swarms of ferocious and intrepid soldiers of fortune. From a Christian community, Palermo was, as if by magic, metamorphosed into a colony of Islam. The cathedral became a Djalma; the churches were transformed into mosques. In accordance with Moorish custom, separate quarters were assigned to the votaries of different religions, and set apart for the maintenance of various branches of traffic. The entire city assumed an Oriental aspect. Flowing robes and lofty turbans took the place of the ungraceful Byzantine and Italian costumes. The veiled ladies of the harems, attended by gorgeously attired eunuchs, glided silently through the streets or peered coquettishly through projecting lattices at the passing stranger. The beasts of burden peculiar to the East, trooping along like the march of a caravan, became too common to excite the attention of the curious multitude. Everywhere appeared canals, aqueducts, fountains. The vegetation recalled to the traveller the date plantations and oleander groves of the Nile and the Euphrates. The villas of the military chieftain and the opulent merchant were counterparts of the exquisite palaces of Seville and Damascus. The genius of Arab civilization found nowhere a more favorable field for its exercise than at Palermo. Within a few months after its capture scarcely anything remained to suggest that the city had not always been Mohammedan. Every circumstance of time and locality was propitious to the foundation of a new and powerful Moslem state which, in subsequent times, was fated to influence the destiny and to form the civilization of some of the greatest monarchies of Christendom.

The factious character of the troops composing the victorious army was disclosed as soon as Palermo had fallen into their hands. A division of Spanish Moors which had been prominent in the attack upon the city claimed the conquest for the Ommeyades. But the superior numbers of the Africans, as well as the fact that the expedition had been equipped at the expense of the Sultan of Kairoan, soon disposed of this demand, and Ziadet-Allah appointed his cousin, Abu-Fihr-Mohammed, as his representative in Sicily. The Moslems, now secure of a refuge in case of disaster and constantly receiving reinforcements, began to make rapid progress in the subjection of the island. Their foraging parties infested every accessible portion of the country, and carried their ravages to the gates of Taormina on the eastern coast. The general success attending their arms was, however, clouded by the assassination of Abu-Fihr, whose murderers found an asylum with the enemy. His successor, Fadl-Ibn-Yakub, defeated the Greeks in a pitched battle; but the victory was rendered unprofitable by the incessant contentions of the hostile parties which infested every portion of the military and naval service of the Saracens. The unfavorable condition of affairs having been reported to Ziadet-Allah, he sent Abu-al-Aghlab, the brother of Abu-Fihr, to assume the supreme command. Under the direction of this wise prince, whose talents speedily reconciled the disputes and suppressed the insolence of the soldiery, the conquest was prosecuted with renewed energy. He equipped a squadron of vessels provided with projectiles of Greek fire, the most formidable weapon of the age, and by its means soon became the master of the coast. The neighboring islands which had hitherto escaped the calamities with which Sicily had been visited were laid waste. Corleone, Platani, Marineo, and many smaller towns were taken. The garrisons of the cities still held by the Christians were so intimidated that they feared to venture beyond their walls. At the end of the year 840 one-third of the island was in the possession of the Arabs; their occupancy had lost its original character of a desultory inroad, and now began to assume the appearance of a permanent settlement; a truce, welcomed if not actually solicited by the fears of the Greeks, imparted an assurance of at least temporary security to the inhabitants, while an increasing trade with Egypt, Africa, and Spain assured the commercial fortunes of the new colony, whose power and prestige had already advanced to such a height that its alliance was eagerly sought by its natural enemies on the other side of the Strait of Messina.

With the death of Charlemagne, the Papacy, deprived of its protector, was compelled to rely for the enforcement of its edicts upon the celestial power from which its traditions derived both their origin and their authority. Its divine claims to the obedience and reverence of mankind had, however, little weight with the fierce nobles of the age, when those pretensions were not sustained by armed force. At that time the princes of Beneventum, descendants of the Lombards, ruled the greater portion of Southern Italy. The little republics of Naples, Gaeta, Sorrento, and Amalfi, whose independence was a political anomaly in an era of feudal servitude, presented an unexpected and formidable barrier to the ambitious designs of the Lombard barons. Aware of the ultimate result of the struggle if fought unaided, and seeing no opportunity of obtaining assistance from the monarchs of Christendom, the despairing citizens of Naples applied to the Sicilian Moslems. The alliance then concluded endured for fifty years, in defiance of the proclamations of crusades, of the anathemas of the Church, and of the campaigns inaugurated under its auspices, and on more than one memorable occasion seriously menaced the perpetuity of the conditions which prevailed in the political and religious society of Europe.

The Emir, Abu-al-Aghlab, lost no time in despatching a fleet to assist the Neapolitans, already besieged by the Lombard prince, Sicardus. The city was relieved, and the besiegers so taken at a disadvantage that they were compelled to negotiate a truce with the republic, and to release without ransom the prisoners whom they had captured. Scarcely a year elapsed before the Neapolitans were called upon to enlist their services in an enterprise of not inferior importance. A Moslem squadron descended without warning upon Messina. Naples responded with alacrity to the summons of her new allies; and while the attention of the garrison was distracted by a furious attack by the combined fleets, a picked detachment scaled the walls from the rear, and almost without bloodshed another of the great Sicilian capitals was added to the rapidly increasing Moorish empire. Encouraged by their victory, the Saracens redoubled their efforts to extend and consolidate their dominion. Their annals have preserved for us the names and the memory of many flourishing cities, among them, Alimena, Lentini, and Butera, whose prosperity had survived the pernicious effects of Roman oppression and Byzantine neglect, whose capture was an important factor in the conquest, but whose history and location are now more or less involved in obscurity.

About this time the veteran Emir, Abu-al-Aghlab, died, full of years and glory. The populace of Palermo, elated by success, and desirous to assert, upon every occasion, their independent and seditious spirit, without notice to the court of Kairoan, chose by acclamation, as governor of the colony, Abbas-Ibn-Fadl, a captain noted for the determination of his character and the ferocity of his manners. Under his administration the war was prosecuted more vigorously than ever. The fields of the industrious peasant, however remote, were never secure from the destructive visits of the Arab freebooter. Such Christian settlements as were sufficiently wealthy were permitted to retain their lands upon payment of a tribute usually largely in excess of that prescribed by Mohammedan law, and which was but a doubtful guaranty of safety when the caprice of the conqueror suggested an increase of his already rapacious and extravagant demands. The requirements of a population constantly engaged in warfare necessitated the employment of a large number of slaves in the cultivation of the soil. These were obtained not only from captives taken in battle, but as a portion of the tribute wrung from the cowardly Greeks, who did not hesitate to sacrifice their retainers, and even their kinsmen, for the enjoyment of a temporary security. The Moors, conscious of the helplessness of their infidel tributaries, whom they considered as already vanquished and indebted for even existence to their own moderation, often refused offerings of gold and precious commodities, and exacted instead the delivery of a prescribed number of human cattle, whose lives were speedily extinguished by the severe labor to which they were subjected in the pestilential atmosphere of the coast and of the marshy valleys of the interior, where the culture of rice was conducted with great profit and with a flagrant disregard of the mortality it occasioned.

An incident, trivial in itself, but, in the event, most important, now occurred to further exalt the reputation of the Moslem arms. A Greek of high rank was seized by a scouting party of Saracens in the environs of Castrogiovanni. The prisoner, conducted to Palermo, and found to be incapable of manual labor and without means to procure the heavy ransom demanded, was condemned to death by the merciless governor, whose practical but cruel policy did not encourage the maintenance of useless captives. As he was being led away by the executioner, the Greek patrician implored with passionate entreaties the clemency of the Emir, promising him the possession of Castrogiovanni if his life were spared. Abbas listened with eagerness to a proposal so congenial to his adventurous and ambitious spirit. A detachment of a thousand horsemen and seven hundred foot, selected for their prowess, was assembled with all diligence and secrecy, and, guided by the renegade and commanded by the Emir in person, departed in silence from Palermo by night, and proceeded to its destination by unfrequented roads and the dangerous paths of mountain solitudes. Arriving without molestation in the vicinity of the city, the Arab general placed all of his cavalry and a portion of his infantry in ambush on the south, where the approach was the least difficult, and the groves of the suburban residences occupied by the wealthier inhabitants afforded excellent facilities for concealment. A chosen band of warriors, directed by the Byzantine traitor, ascended with infinite trouble the precipitous face of the rock on the north side of the citadel, and at the foot of the wall awaited with impatience the first rays of the sun. With the approach of dawn, the vigilance of the sentinels was relaxed, for the impregnable character of the fortress seemed of itself sufficient protection in the glare of open day, and, forgetting that vigilance is one of the first duties of a soldier, the guards sought repose after the fatigues of the night. No sooner had they disappeared from the ramparts, when the Moslems, in single file, introduced themselves into the citadel by means of an aqueduct which passed under the wall. The few stragglers abroad at that early hour were cut down; the gates were thrown open, and, amidst the clash of arms and the war-cry of the Moslems, the main body of the detachment, headed by the Emir, dashed into the city. The lustre of the triumph was sadly tarnished by the atrocities with which it was accompanied. The garrison was deliberately butchered. Not a single soldier escaped. The women and children were condemned to slavery. Within the walls of Castrogiovanni, as a place of absolute security, were collected the most distinguished and opulent of the Christian inhabitants, with the bulk of the remaining treasure of the island. The priesthood had stored here the wealth amassed by the fears and the generosity of the superstitious and devout populace during many centuries. All became the prey of the conqueror. The value of the booty was immense. Hardly a patrician family could be found in all Sicily which did not mourn the captivity of some relative or friend. The children of nobles who traced their genealogy to the most brilliant epoch of Roman grandeur were ruthlessly consigned to the guard-rooms and the harems of Moorish captains. The loss of Castrogiovanni was the greatest calamity which had befallen the Sicilians since the Saracens first landed on the island. The customary changes instituted by the latter on the capture of a city were perfected without delay, the churches were purified and turned into mosques, the estates of the vanquished were partitioned among the principal officers, the tribute of the surviving citizens was regulated, the slaves were apportioned among their new masters, and the plunder was classified and divided according to the regulations of Islam. The boundless exultation of the victors led them to set apart, in addition to the usual fifth of the spoil due to the Sultan, a portion of the richest booty and a number of the most beautiful captives for the Khalif of Bagdad, whose supremacy was not acknowledged by the Moorish princes of the West. Thus in the hour of triumph these sanguinary fanatics, many of whom recognized no law but that of force, and no faith save the idolatrous worship proscribed by the Koran, could forget the national hatred engendered by generations of hostility and the acrimony of religious controversy, in their magnanimous desire to honor the Successor of the Prophet, the most exalted potentate of the Mohammedan world.

The political results that followed the surprise of Castrogiovanni were not less weighty than the physical advantages which enured to the victorious Saracens. The military prestige of the latter was immensely increased. While the Christians held the fortress it was confidently believed that no enemy could take it. The flower of the Moslem army had already retired in disgrace from before its walls. It was the bulwark of imperial power, the refuge of the Church, the asylum of the timid. Its possession was a guaranty that the hated invader could never extend his dominion over the island; the pledge that the ceremonies of his blasphemous ritual would never pollute the holy precincts of its temples. Relics, whose miraculous virtues were attested by the votive offerings of the pious of many generations, were exhibited upon its shrines. And now that this stronghold had fallen, men lost confidence in the protecting power of Heaven, as they had already done in the efficacy of human weapons. The unfortunate garrison had paid for its negligence with death. The sacred mementos of the saints had been discredited. To a feeling of apathy, however, soon succeeded a desire for vengeance. Even the idle and licentious court of Constantinople was stirred to action, and a fleet of three hundred sail was despatched from the Bosphorus to retrieve the disaster and to re-establish the imperial authority. Landing at Syracuse, the Greeks advanced along the coast accompanied by the fleet. The Emir, advised of their movements, fell upon them unexpectedly; the astonished and ill-disciplined soldiers of the East were unable to withstand the furious attack of the Arabs, and in the rout which followed the savage victors indulged to satiety their thirst for carnage. No prisoners were taken. The terrified Greeks, huddled together in disorder, were massacred without pity. Hundreds were drowned in an ineffectual attempt to reach the fleet by swimming. The intrepid Moslems, with the aid of boats obtained from Palermo, captured a hundred vessels from the enemy; their crews being driven into the water at the edge of the scimetar. Undaunted by this catastrophe, a second expedition was organized for the reconquest of the island; the imperial army was increased by a considerable number of Sicilians, and the combined forces marched upon Palermo. Again the wily Abbas, by the celerity of his movements and the bravery of his troops, disconcerted the plans of the enemy. After a furious battle near Cefalu, the advantage of the day remained with the Saracens; the Greeks were compelled to retreat, and the Emir, enraged by the obstinate resistance he had encountered, retaliated by carrying fire and sword to the gates of Syracuse.

Soon after his return from this expedition, Abbas became ill and died, and his remains, committed to the grave by his sorrowing followers, were, after the departure of the latter, dug up by the Greeks, insulted by every device of impotent malice which hatred and fear could suggest, and finally consumed by fire; the only means of revenge available to his pusillanimous adversaries, who had so frequently experienced the vindictiveness of his temper and the power of his arms. During the eleven years of his administration, the Christians were subjected to continuous warfare. Like the Great Al-Mansur, he understood perfectly the advantages of allowing an enemy no time to replenish his treasury or to recruit his strength. By the efforts of his military genius the boundaries of the imperial domain had been annually contracted, until little territory acknowledged the supremacy of Constantinople except that in the immediate vicinity of Syracuse. His political sagacity suggested the alliance with the disaffected states of Italy, and the establishment of Moslem settlements on the main-land as a basis of future military operations and a perpetual menace to both the imperial and the papal courts.

The death of the Emir Abbas was the signal of discord and contention in every Saracen community in Sicily. The tribal prejudices of the different factions which had been temporarily repressed by the iron will of the deceased governor now manifested themselves with greater violence than ever. The Berbers, the Yemenites, and the Ismailians arrayed themselves against one another in a bitter triangular contest. Assassination became of every-day occurrence. The property of citizens was not secure from the rapacious and insubordinate soldiery even within the walls of castles. With the commission of every fresh outrage, the animosity of the rival factions was inflamed and intensified. Towns and districts became mutually and vindictively hostile. As was the case in all the countries governed by the Mohammedan polity, whose regulations were incapable of controlling the antagonistic elements which from the very foundation of a state threatened its dismemberment, the Sicilian colony disclosed the same symptoms of ruin, and began to exhibit a tendency to disintegration even before the sovereignty of the Moslems had been fully established over the island.

A monarch of far different temper from his predecessors was now seated upon the throne of the Cæsars. The career of Basil, the Macedonian, whose statesmanlike qualities and inflexible resolution had reformed the administration of the Empire, had suppressed the abuses of the Church, and had challenged the respect of the barbarians, seemed to indicate an adversary far more to be feared than the two Michaels,—the “Stammerer” and the “Drunkard,”—under whose disgraceful reigns the successes of the Moslems had been principally obtained.

Before this epoch the Christians of Sicily, notwithstanding the prejudices of race and religious belief, and the grievous injuries they had sustained at the hands of their enemies, had begun to observe with increasing favor the equitable government of the Moslems as compared with the capricious and extortionate exactions of the officials of the Empire. The condition of the tributaries under Mussulman dominion, while unquestionably less favorable than that of their co-religionists in almost any other Mohammedan country, was still worthy of envy by the subjects of the Byzantine Emperor. Their tax was certain and fixed by law. They enjoyed, unmolested by persecution, the practice of their faith and the observance of their social customs, so far as they did not interfere with those peculiar to their rulers. Their own magistrates dispensed justice in ordinary causes according to the forms of legal procedure to which they had always been accustomed. The frequent impositions of the court of Constantinople were far more onerous than the tribute demanded at a defined period by the collectors of the Moorish treasury. All things considered, there is little doubt that, had it not been for the pernicious example of anarchy afforded by hostile factions at the death of every emir, the remaining portion of the island would have voluntarily submitted within a few years to the authority of Islam. The excesses of the ferocious partisans, who, during the interregnum preceding the election of every new governor, plundered friend and foe alike, deterred the timid Christians from seeking a change of masters, and the accession of the Emperor Basil confirmed them in their allegiance. The first effort of the new sovereign was to raise the aspirations of the tributaries to independence. Conspiracies were formed. A considerable part of the territory held by the Moslems, visited by the emissaries of the Emperor, and encouraged by the disturbances following the death of Abbas, revolted. The insurrection was quelled, but the misconduct of the captains appointed by the new governor, Khafagia-Ibn-Sofian, brought disgrace and disaster upon the Saracen arms. The Emir himself was repulsed before Syracuse, which had been reinforced and greatly strengthened by the Emperor, who recognized it as the key of the imperial power in Sicily. Not long afterwards this misfortune was retrieved by a great victory gained over the imperial forces under the walls of that city, in which the army of the Greeks was almost annihilated, and the Moslems, laden with the rich spoil of the East, returned in triumph to Palermo. In the year 869 Khafagia lost his life in an ineffectual attempt to capture Syracuse by storm. The next year his son Mohammed, who succeeded him, was assassinated by his own slaves.

The repeated reverses sustained by the Greeks had impaired confidence in their leaders, whose incompetency was more responsible for the defeats of the imperial army than the want of discipline which was so conspicuous among the rank and file. Although the progress of the Moslems was slow, it was certain. Their losses were easily repaired, their impetuosity was rather stimulated than checked by misfortune, and in every respect their recuperative power proved itself superior to that of their enemies. The territory of Sicily, although far from subdued, seemed too limited for their daring ambition. Passing the Strait of Messina they swept the ancient province of Magna-Græcia with destruction. They conquered Apulia and Calabria. They ravaged the duchy of Spoleto. They surprised Ancona. They seized Beneventum, Brindisi, Tarentum, Bari. They occupied the promontory of Misenum, under the very walls of Naples. They established themselves on the coast of Dalmatia. They sacked and burned the ancient city of Capua. They founded the colony of Garigliano, a constant menace to the Papal States, and long the scourge of the Christian principalities of Italy. Independent settlements, composed of soldiers of fortune who had become familiarized with their pitiless calling in the civil wars of Spain and Africa, were founded throughout the south of the Italian Peninsula. The captains of these outlaws assumed the titles of sovereignty, robbed and massacred the Christian peasants, and acquired for the name of Moslem a terror and an execration not inferior to that which distinguished the powers of darkness. Neapolitan pilots guided their corsairs along the shores of the Adriatic. The squadrons of the Sultan of Africa routed the Venetians in several naval encounters, landed forces at the mouth of the Po, drove the commerce of the Italian republics from the sea, and pushed their incursions as far as the confines of Istria. They penetrated to the gates of Rome, destroyed the churches of St. Peter and St. Paul, which were situated outside the walls, and insulted the dignity of the Holy See by horrible acts of sacrilege. The relics of the Saints were subjected to unspeakable insult. Monks were slaughtered without mercy or driven away in crowds to toil in the Sicilian marshes. Nuns were seized to be exposed for sale in the slave-markets of Palermo and Kairoan. Had it not been that the Eternal City was too well fortified for an army unprovided with the military engines necessary for a siege to attack it with any prospect of success, the Mohammedan worship might have been introduced into the stronghold of Christianity. With the exception of the sack of Rome by the Constable of Bourbon in a subsequent age, the throne of the Papacy was never subjected to a more humiliating indignity. The constant dissensions of the semi-independent principalities of Italy aided in maintaining the foothold of the Saracens far more than their own valor or resources. Their colonies existed by the sufferance of their foes. The feudal barons, in most instances, detested their Christian neighbors—not infrequently connected with them by ties of blood as well as by the obligations of a common religious belief—far more than the blaspheming Moslems. In vain was the aid of the Emperor of Germany invoked; his plans were thwarted by the discord and treachery of his allies. The forces he despatched for the relief of the Italians were constantly at variance with the Byzantines, and armies, almost equal to the conquest of an empire, were fruitlessly employed in the quarrels of petty sovereigns, whose union was indispensable to the expulsion of a crafty and audacious enemy. The Pope, either through weakness or from motives of policy, seems to have generally kept aloof from this crusade, prosecuted in his behalf as the head of Christendom, as well as to assure the stability of his temporal power.

During the course of these events, Ibrahim-Ibn-Ahmed, a prince of rare administrative talents, of vast accomplishments, of boundless ambition, and of a character remarkable for barbarity even in an age of tyrants, had ascended the throne of Kairoan. Desirous of signalizing his accession by the successful prosecution of an enterprise which his predecessors had in vain attempted, he determined to capture Syracuse. A numerous army was raised. In accordance with the favorite policy of the sovereigns of Africa, special care was exercised that the malcontents who had manifested hostility towards the government should be enrolled in the expedition. When pecuniary inducements failed to tempt these disturbers of the peace, they were seized and forced to embark. The preparations were worthy of the importance and difficulties of the undertaking. The fleet consisted of the swiftest and largest vessels of the Moorish navy. The army was provided with the most formidable engines ever constructed by the Arabs for the siege of any city. The command was intrusted to Giafar-Ibn-Mohammed, the newly appointed Emir of Sicily, an officer of ability, experience, and courage.

It was fifty years since the Moslems had made their first attempt to wrest from the Byzantines this great city renowned from the earliest antiquity. Its conquest had been the cherished dream of many emirs, one after another of whom had retired in disgrace from before its walls. In every campaign, its suburbs, and the lands upon which its population were mainly dependent for subsistence, had been ravaged by squadrons of Moorish horsemen. The diminution of tribute consequent upon the failure and destruction of agricultural products, the massacre and enslavement of the cultivators of the soil, the stagnation of commerce, and the emigration of wealthy citizens, had induced the court of Constantinople—which viewed every question with an eye single to pecuniary advantage—to almost withdraw its support from the last remaining bulwark against the Moslem supremacy in Sicily. The number of inhabitants had been greatly diminished within a quarter of a century. The troops who still maintained the shadow of imperial power in the island were largely recruited from the martial youth of Syracuse. The pestilence, which had so often decimated the besiegers, had not spared the defenders of the city. Thousands had perished from this cause alone. These facts being considered, and the vast extent of its walls being remembered, it is probable that at no previous period of its history was Syracuse so ill qualified to sustain a siege.

The Byzantine commander, aware of his inability to defend the outer fortifications, within which stood the finest houses and the cathedral, withdrew to the inner line which traversed the isthmus separating the two basins of the harbor. So far as the number and importance of its buildings were concerned, the city was more than half taken when the Moslem army, without opposition, filed through the deserted gateways of the outer wall. Upon the narrow isthmus, measuring but little more than a hundred yards in width, the assembled forces of both armies contended furiously for the mastery. The Moorish engineers had invented catapults of improved construction and terrific power, which instead of projecting their missiles in a curve, as had hitherto been the case, hurled them directly against the walls with unheard-of velocity and accuracy of aim. Every expedient familiar to ancient warfare was adopted to drive the garrison to extremity. Mines were carried under the towers. Greek fire was thrown into every quarter of the city, to the dismay of the besieged, who found themselves continually threatened with destructive conflagrations. The Christians were compelled to the exertion of constant vigilance to repel the storming parties that mounted to the attack at all hours of the day and night. A fleet sent by the Emperor to raise the siege was dispersed by the Saracen galleys, which by this victory virtually acquired control of the Mediterranean. The double port was occupied by the enemy, the Greeks were driven from the northern side of the city into the citadel, and the walls which defended the harbor were demolished. The Syracusans were now abandoned to their own resources. Their valor, their endurance, and their loyalty were their sole reliance. No assistance could reach them from any quarter. Assailed by sea and land, they maintained an obstinate defence. With an improvidence characteristic of the Byzantine, no adequate supply of provisions had been collected. The rapid movements of the Moslems and their unexpected appearance had prevented any subsequent reparation of this inexcusable neglect. Despite the disadvantages under which they labored, the people of Syracuse sustained with honor the martial reputation of their city, famous for many a hard-fought contest. Famine destroyed many whom the weapons of the enemy had spared. The inhabitants were reduced to eat moss scraped from the walls, to devour hides and broken bones, even to feed upon the flesh of the slain. An ass’s head was valued at twenty gold byzants; a small measure of grain could not be obtained for less than one hundred and fifty. The use of unwholesome food soon produced a plague. Such was the mortality from this cause alone that one-quarter of the inhabitants perished in a month. Notwithstanding their knowledge of the inertness of the Byzantine government, and the rigid blockade of the Moslems, the Syracusans had not relinquished all hope of relief. The Emperor Basil had grievously disappointed the expectations which had been formed of his character, which had been derived from his early career as a soldier, and from his vigorous measures of reform on his accession to the imperial throne. His mind had proved incapable of withstanding the blighting ecclesiastical influence which pervaded the atmosphere of Constantinople. Of late, he had endeavored to expiate the errors and crimes of former years by a degrading subserviency to the sacerdotal order. He honored the priesthood with employments of the highest importance. Monks, some of them eunuchs of unsavory antecedents, became his advisers in affairs of state. He erected a hundred churches, many of them in honor of St. Michael, as the ineffectual atonement of a guilty conscience for the cruel treatment of his murdered sovereign. And now, while the Syracusans were striving, with undaunted courage, to uphold the dignity and power of the Empire in the only stronghold of Sicily which still resisted the encroachments of the infidel, this abject slave of superstition was employing his soldiers in the construction of a stately basilica, a penance enjoined by the exhortations of his ghostly counsellors.

As the spirits of the besieged fell day by day, and their ranks were thinned by casualty, famine, and disease, the efforts of the Moslems became more determined than ever. The massive walls of the citadel gradually crumbled under the incessant discharges from ballistas and catapults directed against such a limited extent of their circumference. The great tower which defended the larger harbor, undermined, and battered for months by the military engines, was finally precipitated into the water, carrying with it a part of the contiguous defences. This event, long expected by the besiegers, was the signal for a furious assault. Urged on by every consideration of ambition, zeal, avarice, and revenge, the Saracens entered the breach with an impetuosity that threatened to bear down all opposition. But they were met with a determination equal to their own. The garrison, though weakened by privation and fatigue, sustained the struggle with the energy of despair. The inhabitants, all told, scarcely reached the number of twenty thousand. Each one, however, contributed his or her part towards the defence of home and religion; the priests, attired in their sacred vestments, animated the soldiery by their prayers and benedictions, the women cared tenderly for the wounded and the dying. For twenty days and nights the valor of the Syracusans held their assailants at bay. A rampart of corpses, rising for many feet upon the ruins of the demolished wall, afforded a ghastly bulwark for the protection of the besieged, while it poisoned the air far and wide with its horrible effluvium. The combat was hand to hand. No missile weapons were used. The issue could not be doubtful, and yet the Christians never for an instant entertained a thought of surrender. At length the Moslems withdrew, the din of battle ceased, and the governor, without distrusting the intentions of his wily enemy, leaving a small detachment to keep watch, retired with the main body of his forces for a moment’s rest. All at once every engine in the Saracen camp sent forth its deadly projectiles, and from ruined houses, fallen rampart, and shattered wall, the besiegers, at the stirring sound of atabal and trumpet, again rushed forward into the breach. The success of the stratagem was complete. The slender guard to which the careless confidence of the governor had committed the destinies of the devoted city was cut to pieces in an instant. The garrison, massing its forces in the streets, endeavored in vain to stem the furious torrent. The frightened inhabitants sought the sanctuary of the churches only to be butchered at the altar. Exasperated beyond measure by the resistance of a people who, even in the face of death, disdained to yield, the fierce assailants greedily satiated their thirst for blood. The archbishop and three of his ecclesiastical subordinates, seized in the cathedral, were spared on condition of revealing the place where were deposited the sacred vessels used in the ceremonial of public worship. The heroic governor, whose name unfortunately no Christian or Arab writer has deemed worthy to be transmitted to posterity, threw himself with seventy nobles into a tower of the citadel, which was stormed and taken on the ensuing day. As was the custom in the Sicilian wars prosecuted by the Saracens, all men of mature age were put to the sword. Such of these as had escaped the weapons of the enemy during the assault were collected, imprisoned for a week, and then, huddled together in a narrow space, were inhumanly beaten and stoned to death. Some imprudent zealots, who courted martyrdom by reviling the name of Mohammed, were flayed alive. Four thousand captives were disposed of in a single day by this atrocious but effective method. The women and children, without exception, were condemned to slavery. Out of nearly fifteen thousand people, but a few hundred succeeded in evading the vigilant search of the Saracens, to carry into Christian lands the story of a defence seldom equalled for gallantry and endurance in the annals of warfare, and to publish to the astonished and indignant nations of Europe the criminal apathy and cowardice of the vaunted champion of Christendom, the weak and superstitious sovereign of the Eastern Empire. As Syracuse had long been the principal depository of the treasure of the island which had escaped the rapacity of former campaigns, as well as a place far famed for its commerce and the wealth of its citizens, great booty was secured by the conquerors. The Arab chroniclers relate that in no other capital ever subjected to the Moslems did such precious spoil fall into their hands. The ecclesiastic Theodosius, an eye-witness not disposed to exaggerate the success of his enemies, places its value at a million byzants, equal at the present time to more than twenty million dollars. The sacred vessels and utensils taken from the churches weighed five thousand pounds. Composed entirely of the precious metals, their value, intrinsically enormous, was greatly enhanced by their exquisite workmanship, which exhibited the skill of the most accomplished artisans of Constantinople. For some reason, for which at this lapse of time it is impossible to offer a plausible conjecture, the Moslems determined to utterly demolish the stronghold which had so long and so resolutely resisted their arms. As the battle had been confined to a comparatively limited area, the larger portion of the city was still uninjured. The outer walls, which enclosed the suburbs and the splendid mansions of the wealthy and the noble, were intact. Entire streets, while silent and deserted, presented no other evidence of the destructiveness of war. Rows of marble palaces still reared their majestic fronts along the avenues and squares which the opulent Syracusans had embellished with every resource of pomp and luxury. On all sides were elegant colonnades, amphitheatres, temples. In the public gardens the senses were delighted and refreshed by numerous parterres and fountains; in the forums, at every step, the observer was confronted with the speaking effigies of the famous heroes of antiquity. While devoted to the lucrative pursuits of commerce, the attention of the polished citizens of Syracuse had been by no means monopolized by practical occupations. They were generous patrons of literary and artistic genius. Their architects and their sculptors seem to have inherited no small proportion of Attic excellence. No Italian city which derived its civilization from Grecian colonists had preserved unimpaired to such a high degree the evidences of its noble origin. The elegant conceptions embodied in the works of the artists of Syracuse, the skill of their execution, the purity of taste they disclosed, the superiority of their materials, offered a marked contrast to the crude and barbaric efforts of Byzantine mediocrity.

There seemed no reason why this magnificent city should be doomed to annihilation. Its fortifications—whose prodigious strength had been demonstrated by a contest of half a century—could have been easily repaired. Its situation was delightful, its harbors capacious, its territory productive, its mercantile facilities unrivalled. Its abandoned habitations could without difficulty have afforded shelter to a population of a hundred thousand souls. The remembrance of its traditions, the prestige of its name, the glory of its capture, might well have induced the victors to preserve it as an enduring monument to their perseverance and valor. But no considerations of utility or sentiment influenced the ruthless determination of the Moorish commander. The order went forth that Syracuse must be utterly destroyed. An idea can be formed of the massive character of its structures by the statement that two months were required for their demolition. At length, when the walls had been dismantled, the houses razed, and the harbors choked with rubbish, the conquerors applied the torch, and the flames completed the ruin which rapine and vandalism had so successfully begun.

The prisoners and the spoil were despatched to Palermo under a strong guard of Africans. Six days and nights were required for the painful journey. Eager to arrive at their destination, the brutal soldiery refused to allow their captives a moment of rest, and the march was accomplished without a halt, except when the necessity of preparing food or the physical obstacles of the mountain pathways caused delay. At the approach of the melancholy procession the gates of the Moslem capital poured forth its thousands of turbaned spectators. The sight of the long train of captives, and of plunder such as had never before dazzled the eyes of the most experienced veteran, aroused the fervid enthusiasm of the multitude. Some displayed their joy by extravagant gestures and dances, but the majority, more decorous, chanted in unison appropriate passages from the Koran. Many of the captives, after unspeakable sufferings, perished in the subterranean dungeons of Palermo. Others obtained an infamous security by the public renunciation of their faith. The fall of Syracuse practically completes the Moslem conquest of Sicily. The degenerate monarch, who, through his inexcusable neglect, was responsible for the loss of the island, made no serious effort to recover it. A few insignificant towns, the principal of which was Taormina, indebted for their safety rather to the indifference of the Saracens than to their own impregnability, still remained faithful to the Emperor. The Byzantine standard—the emblem of rapacity, bigotry, and every political abuse—disappeared forever from those lofty ramparts where it had waved for so many centuries. Henceforth the prowess of the conquerors was to be principally exerted against each other. The annals of Sicily for many subsequent years are a tedious and unprofitable recital of conspiracies, assassinations, and civil commotions, of the ineffectual efforts of ambitious captains aspiring to independent sovereignty, of the rapid succession of emirs of sanguinary tastes and mediocre abilities, of defiance of and indecisive conflicts with the princes of Kairoan. History was repeating itself. The disorders which had disgraced the society of every Moslem country, when the apparent cohesion of races was dissolved by the defeat and expulsion of the common enemy, were now exhibited on a smaller scale, but with no less vindictiveness, upon the narrow theatre of Sicily. Elevation to the emirate, whether sanctioned or not by the confirmation and investiture of the African Sultan, had become a most perilous distinction. Tribes and factions pursued each other with relentless hatred. Not even in Spain were the glaring defects of the Moslem polity more conspicuous, or the vicious character of the components of the social organization more thoroughly revealed. The constant deportation of criminals and political malcontents by the Sultans of Africa, as a measure of prudence whose inexpediency was demonstrated in every new insurrection, was largely responsible for this general disorganization. It could not reasonably be supposed that these disturbers of public tranquillity, whose lives had been passed amidst the turmoil of religious and military revolution, would remain quiet under any government.

While the Moslem factions with varying success were wasting their energies in suicidal conflicts, the Christian communities, many of which were respectable in wealth and numbers, were enabled by sufferance to enjoy a temporary respite. The conclusion of the war had accomplished one most beneficial result, an interchange of captives. From the dark vaults of noisome dungeons; from the galley, with its scourge and its clanking fetters; from the rice-fields, reeking with miasmatic vapors; from the gilded antechambers of the harem; the prisoners, who had long since abandoned hope, were now led forth to be restored to home and kindred. The struggle which for more than half a century had engaged alike the attention of Christian and Moslem throughout the world was ended. Mankind now began to cast anxious glances towards the new Mohammedan state which formed a stepping-stone by which the hordes of Africa might once more enter Europe. The passage of the Strait of Messina offered fewer obstacles to an invader than that of the Strait of Gibraltar. From the confines of Calabria it was a march of only a few days to Rome, and it was not forgotten that the banners of Islam had once been seen before the walls of the Eternal City. Numerous colonies of Moslems, most of which seemed to threaten permanent occupancy, were established in Southern Italy; the Moorish navy had asserted its power in the Adriatic; an intimate alliance existed between the Republic of Naples and the emirs of Sicily. Not without cause therefore did Christendom regard with unconcealed apprehension the presence of such implacable foes in close proximity to her capital. No adequate means of defence existed to ward off the impending danger. The court of Constantinople had retired discomfited from the field. Italy was distracted by the quarrels of a multitude of insignificant principalities. The Papacy had not yet attained to that commanding position in the political system of Europe which it subsequently occupied, and its temporal power was confined to the agitation of the mob of the capital, whose passions, once aroused, it was not always able to control. The dream of Musa, who boasted that the unity of God would be proclaimed in the Church of St. Peter, seemed now far more easy of realization, when the Saracen armies were separated from Rome by only a narrow channel and a few hours’ march, than when the project first awoke the ambition of that daring general beyond the intervening mountain barriers of the Pyrenees and the Alps.

The peace of the island having been finally assured after much bloodshed, the efforts of the emirs were directed to the extension of their empire in Italy. Political necessity rather than inclination had compelled the rulers of the Saracen settlements in Calabria and Apulia to recognize the superior jurisdiction of the governors of Sicily. The division of those regions between so many powers of different nationalities and forms of government—imperial, republican, theocratic—was the cause of mutual distrust and irreconcilable hatred. Each held aloof from alliance or even from intercourse with the others. Their very weakness was at first the guaranty of their safety. The Moslem, however, took advantage of this circumstance to attack his adversaries in detail. On one side he drove back the Byzantines, who had begun to threaten his settlements on the Gulf of Tarentum. On another, his cavalry swept away the flocks of the Roman Campagna. The republics, restrained by the faith of treaties, and the barons, who had more than once felt the keen edge of the Moorish scimetar, preserved a prudent neutrality. The country in the vicinity of the papal metropolis for a radius of many miles suffered from these inroads. Large districts were rendered uninhabitable. An important source of the food supply of Rome was destroyed. The fury of the Moslems was, as usual, chiefly aimed at the ecclesiastical establishments. Churches and convents were destroyed, the priests butchered, the nuns hurried away to the seraglio. The fugitives who sought an asylum at Rome crowded the streets and the religious houses, and taxed to the utmost the resources of monastic hospitality and benevolence. Within the walls of the Eternal City all was trepidation and despair. An attack was hourly apprehended, the sacred machinery of the church was put in motion to avert the impending calamity, and the result invested with new and profitable credit the performance of penance, the exhibition of relics, and the solemn processions, whose influence was presumed to have effected the deliverance of the Vicar of God.

It is not within the scope of this work to recount in detail the monotonous sequence of fruitless revolutions, changes of rulers, religious disputes, and inveterate animosities of sects and races which compose the history of Sicily under the Arabs. No magnificent dynasty like those of the Ommeyades at Cordova and the Abbasides at Bagdad arose in the island to promote the cause of learning and science, and to reflect imperishable lustre on the Moslem name. No great commander carried his victorious arms beyond the Apennines and the Alps. The maritime superiority acquired by the fleets of Palermo was lost in a day in the bay of Naples, and the Byzantine navy once more became supreme in the Mediterranean. No military exploit worthy of record has been preserved save the storming of Taormina, which still obeyed the Greek Emperor, in the beginning of the tenth century.

The cruelty with which the ascendency of each triumphant faction was celebrated familiarized the Sicilians with scenes of blood, and impressed itself indelibly upon the national character, while the innate love of rapine, common to Arab and Berber alike, still survives in the irrepressible brigandage of to-day. The greatest opportunity ever afforded the Moslems for the conquest and conversion of Europe was lost by the irresolution of the Sultans of Africa, and by the perpetual discord which exhausted the strength and dissipated the resources of Sicily. After acknowledgment in turn of the suzerainty of Aghlabite, Abbaside, and Fatimite princes, the mutual persecution of religious sects, and the long toleration of the feuds of antagonistic races, the Sicilian emirate finally attained to independence, based upon the law of hereditary succession. But this new political condition brought no peace to the unhappy island. Every captain of banditti, every ambitious courtier, considered himself eligible to a dignity which could claim in reality no better title than that given by the sword. The country was divided into numerous states agitated by petty jealousies and incapable of concerted action in an hour of national peril. The city of Syracuse, which had been partially rebuilt and, despite the unsettled affairs of the times, had once more become an important seaport, was in the year 1060 the capital of Ibn-Thimna, who exercised a nominal authority over the larger portion of the island. A domestic quarrel brought him in collision with Ibn-Hawwasci, the governor of Castrogiovanni; a battle was fought, the army of Ibn-Thimna was destroyed, and the conqueror succeeded to the dignity and the dominions of his vanquished rival. Consumed with hatred and regardless of consequences, Ibn-Thimna then solicited the aid of a band of adventurers whose prowess was widely renowned throughout Europe, and the exploits of whose ancestors in former ages had caused them to be considered the scourge of civilization and the implacable enemies of the human race.

In the Italian Peninsula, the Moslems long held the balance of power. Its most productive territory was for fourteen years a prey to the violence and rapacity of a few hundred Arab freebooters. The ministers of the Church were naturally the principal objects of their hostility and contempt. The priests were put to death after having been subjected to every indignity. The monks were tortured, enslaved, emasculated. The consecrated vessels of divine worship—whose hiding place was revealed by serfs exasperated by generations of oppression—were profaned with every refinement of blasphemy and sacrilege. Dogs and horses were enveloped in sacred vestments. The smoke of censers perfumed the air amidst the orgies of licentious banquets. From jewelled chalices were drunk toasts to the success of the Moslem armies. Upon the very altar was sacrificed the chastity of the spouses of Christ. During the ninth century, every ship bound for Italian ports was laid under contribution by the Arab corsairs. The dukes of Spoleto and Tuscany joined the Saracens of Tarentum in an impious league to deprive the Pontiff of his possessions and his power. The republics of Gaeta, Naples, Amalfi, and Salerno formed a confederacy to the same end with the Emir of Sicily. Pope John VIII., abandoned by his vassals, for two years regularly paid tribute to the infidel, and the Holy See thus became virtually a dependency of the Moslem empire.

In the cosmopolitan cities of Palermo and Messina were grouped types of every race of Europe, Africa, and Asia, the most turbulent elements of medieval society, the most vicious products of the evils of servitude and the tyranny of caste; native Sicilians, degenerate Greeks, Lombard exiles; Negroes, Persians, and Jews; outlawed criminals, pariahs, refugees, apostates, and banditti. Here personal feuds and tribal hatred were prosecuted with every circumstance of perfidiousness and ferocity. Here Arab and Berber renewed the quarrel begun a century before in Mauritania, which in the end involved in ruin both the Ommeyade dynasty and the Sicilian Emirate. Here was nourished the spirit of discord which proved fatal to Moslem supremacy and called in the Normans, as in former times the dissensions of the Lombard principalities had invited the Saracen invasion of Italy. The rule of the Byzantine had been feeble, inert, and quiescent; moulded by the incompetency of a cowardly government and the fears of a degraded people. That of the Arab, on the other hand, was restless, energetic, ambitious, aggressive. His versatility and his enterprise were unfortunately largely neutralized by the character of the elements with which he had to deal. As proved by the event, a formidable state may be founded, but cannot be perpetuated, by a coalition of outcasts. It is not from such sources that are derived the greatness, the glory, the security of empires.

The Normans of the eleventh century had, by the intercourse of several generations of warriors with the polished nations of the Mediterranean, acquired a knowledge of the laws of humanity and the usages of social life unheard of among their barbarian forefathers, who had defied the perils of the English Channel and the Bay of Biscay in diminutive vessels of skins and osier, and carried dismay among the populous cities and rich settlements of the Seine and the Guadalquivir. Tempted by the charms of soil and climate enjoyed by that province of Northern France which still retains their name and the memory of their valor, these daring pirates exchanged without hesitation the dangers of a predatory existence upon the seas for the less exciting but more profitable employments of a sedentary life. With the abandonment of country was at the same time associated a renunciation of religion. The Pagan ceremonies and savage customs attending the worship of Woden were discarded for the imposing forms and benign precepts of Christianity. These significant events did not, however, produce any material alteration in the tastes, the character, or the aspirations of the great body of the Norman youth. The theatre of action alone was changed. In a moral point of view, no appreciable distinction exists between a pirate and a soldier of fortune. The Norman man-at-arms retained all the marauding instincts of his race, modified to some extent by the civilization with which he was occasionally brought in contact through his casual association with the accomplished inhabitants of Moorish Spain and the shrewd and adventurous traders of the Byzantine Empire. He had inherited the lofty stature of his ancestors, their enormous strength and powers of endurance, their contempt of danger, their barbarity in the treatment of a vanquished foe. Attracted to Italy by the accounts of pilgrims returning from the Holy Land, the Normans first appear in the history of that country as the mercenaries of those principalities whose close proximity to each other kept them in a condition of perpetual hostility. The intrepidity and military experience of the strangers were soon recognized as commodities of great value by the rulers of such states as Capua, Beneventum, and Salerno. From a subordinate position, their audacity and their courage soon raised them to a political equality with their former masters. They acquired territorial possessions, built castles, and plundered their neighbors with equal profit and even greater facility than did the Lombard barons, themselves descended from a race of freebooters. They figured alternately as the allies and the adversaries of both Greeks and Moslems, as the dictates of prudence or the prospect of gain suggested. Before the middle of the eleventh century they had become an important factor in the politics of the Italian Peninsula, where their ambition caused their friendship and their enmity to be regarded with almost equal fear and suspicion. Of all the Norman knights who had been induced by the hope of fame and fortune to cast their lot in Southern Italy, none ranked so high for chivalrous grace and martial prowess as the six members of the noble house of De Hauteville. Without resources save their weapons and their valor, they soon attained to high distinction in those communities of adventurers whose existence depended on the sword. They cemented their power by matrimonial alliances with the daughters of local chieftains of large possessions and distinguished lineage; in more than one instance at the expense of conjugal attachments contracted years before during the affectionate enthusiasm of youth. Their influence soon became paramount in the councils of the Christians, as their pennons were ever foremost in the line of battle. The youngest of these bold champions was called Roger, a name destined to great and enduring renown in the crusading wars of Europe and Asia.

Encouraged by the dissensions of the Moors, certain citizens of Messina, whose vicinity to the main-land afforded its inhabitants frequent opportunities of communication with the Italian princes, formed the design of inviting the Normans to undertake the conquest of the island. Their plans had hardly been unfolded to Count Roger, when Ibn-Thimna, the fugitive Emir, sought his aid, with the fallacious hope that the efforts of the Christians might contribute to his restoration to the throne. The attempt was resolved upon; the assistance of Robert, Duke of Calabria, was secured, and, in the spring of 1061, Roger, with a small detachment of soldiers, crossed the Strait by night, and at daybreak, through the timely assistance of the conspirators, was introduced into the fortifications of Messina. The enterprise so auspiciously begun was prosecuted with the most flattering prospects of ultimate success. Robert was soon enabled to strengthen the garrison of Messina with a considerable force; many Christian settlements revolted, others secretly sent assurances of sympathy and co-operation; the predatory expeditions of the adventurers returned with valuable spoil, and, finally, a decisive victory obtained near Castrogiovanni placed the affairs of the invaders on a substantial footing and acquainted the Moslems with the formidable character of the enemy. The success of the Normans was rapid and decisive. Trani was delivered up by its inhabitants, weary of Moslem oppression and anarchy. Bari was taken after an obstinate defence. The Saracens now experienced in their turn the evils with which they had visited the unhappy Sicilians in the early times of the conquest. Their harvests were swept away. Their vineyards were uprooted. The peasant feared to venture beyond the walls of fortified places, and was hardly secure anywhere, for in every city Greek conspirators maintained secret and treasonable communication with the enemy. No hamlet, however sequestered, was exempt from the rapacity of the Norman freebooter, who pushed his incursions to the very environs of Palermo. In 1071 the siege of that city was undertaken. The forces of the invaders, which had received accessions from almost every country of Europe, were sufficiently numerous to invest the Moslem capital by land and sea. The stubborn resistance maintained by the garrison might have disheartened the assailants had it not been for the treachery of Christian soldiers serving under the Saracen banner. Notice was conveyed to the besiegers that a weak point existed in a certain part of the citadel. To divert the attention of the Moslems, the city was assailed on the eastern side as well as from the harbor, while the Duke, at the head of a picked body of men, scaled with little opposition the western walls of the citadel, which had been indicated as the vulnerable point by the traitors in the Moorish service. Astounded by the sudden appearance of the enemy in their rear, the Moors retired in disorder to the suburbs, and the next day surrendered under honorable conditions which guaranteed enjoyment of their laws and their religion.

The capture of Palermo, after a siege of only five months, reflected great distinction on the Norman arms. Every circumstance conspired to facilitate their triumph. Although the entire force of the besiegers could not have exceeded ten thousand, they were all veterans, whose courage had been tested in many a campaign and foray. The Saracen capital had long been distracted by faction, by religious schism, by civil war. Its population had been greatly diminished from these causes, and even the imminent danger of conquest failed to reconcile the partisans of the hostile sects and tribes, who cared less for the prosperity of their country than for the maintenance of their doctrines and the prosecution of their hereditary enmities. The most important auxiliaries of the invaders, however, were the Christian tributaries. Harassed by the persecution of successive usurpers, insecure in person and property, subject to the capricious tyranny of a despotism which, without warning, not infrequently consigned their bodies to the dungeon and their daughters to the seraglio, these unfortunate vassals were prepared to further any undertaking which might deliver them from the intolerable oppression under which they groaned.

The progress of the Normans was henceforth unimpeded by organized resistance. Trapani, Taormina, Syracuse, were carried by storm. Castrogiovanni was surrendered by its governor, who apostatized to the Christian faith. In 1091 the cities of Butera and Noto, the last possessions of the Moslems in the island, were transferred by peaceful negotiation to the Normans, who now became the masters of Sicily. Coincident with the extensive territorial acquisitions resulting from the conquest, the feudal system was instituted, and fiefs were bestowed on those officers of the invading army whose services merited such a recompense and whose fidelity could be depended upon by the lords of the house of De Hauteville who assumed the suzerainty. The Moors, assured of the possession of their rights, passed quietly from anarchy and riot to the restraints and subordination of feudal dependence. With greater facility than would have been conjectured from their customs and antecedents, they adapted themselves to the unfamiliar conditions by which they were surrounded. As had been the case with the Greeks, they intermarried with their conquerors. They served with gallantry and distinction in the Norman armies. Their mercenaries, under the leadership of Christian nobles, were regarded with greater dread than when, under their own commanders, they had menaced the existence of the Papacy and the security of Rome. In many ways their superior civilization made its influence felt in the life and habits of the semi-barbarians of the West. The manners of the latter became more polished, their intercourse with equals less offensively rude, their treatment of inferiors less tyrannical and cruel. The Arab physician, who, with the Jew, monopolized the medical learning of his time, enjoyed the confidence and respect of the Norman princes. The Arab statesman and financier both stood high in their favor, and received the most substantial and flattering marks of their esteem. The luxurious customs of the Moors—permitted by their creed but forbidden by the strict morality of Christian discipline—commended themselves with peculiar zest to the lax principles and unrestrained passions of the Norman chivalry. The latter practised polygamy upon a scale fully as extensive as that of their infidel predecessors, established harems, and maintained troops of eunuchs. Beautiful concubines, arrayed, some in Christian, others in Moorish garb, and attended by trains of female slaves whose charms rivalled those of their mistresses, sauntered daily through the delightful promenades of Syracuse and Palermo. In vain the anathemas of the Holy See were launched against the nominal champions of the Faith who, with Oriental sensuality and magnificence, held their courts in the Sicilian capitals. The corruption of the Vatican was too familiar to all who had served in the campaigns of Italy for the denunciation of the Pope to arouse any other feelings than those of ridicule and contempt. Even the clergy became infected through the contagious example of their temporal rulers; the amiable vices so reprobated by the Holy Father were scarcely concealed by the inferior ecclesiastics, while the episcopal palaces of the larger cities exhibited scenes more appropriate to the secret precincts of a Moorish harem than to the homes of the most exalted dignitaries of the Sicilian Church. During the Saracen occupation of Sicily the country was probably more thickly populated and was certainly subject to a more thorough system of tillage than it had been while under the control of any other nation. It contained eighteen cities and hundreds of towns, villages, and hamlets. In all there were more than a thousand centres of population throughout the island, which did not include the smaller settlements. The tireless industry of the Moor developed to the highest degree its wonderful natural resources. Almost every grain and fruit known to the agriculturist flourished on the slopes of the gentle eminences which lined its coast or in the fertile depths of the sheltered valleys. Its mountain sides were covered with forests of chestnut, pine, and cedar, invaluable for ship-building purposes. The papyrus, identical with the famous plant of Egypt, and found nowhere else in Europe, grew wild in its marshes. The level lands of the South were occupied by endless groves of palms and oranges. Cotton, sugar-cane, and flax were cultivated with great success. Olives constituted one of the staple crops of the country. The culture of silk was introduced into Sicily some years before it became known to the Moors of Spain, and extensive plantations of mulberries were maintained for the sustenance of that useful insect whose industry, in every country propitious to its growth, has been forced to contribute to the luxury and vanity of man. The products of the Sicilian wine-press were famous among the bacchanalian poets of the court of Palermo, who had long since forgotten the prohibitory mandate of the Prophet. The most improved methods of cultivation, tested by the experience of ages, were adopted to aid the fertility of the soil and the mildness of the climate. The irrigating system in use was modelled after those of Persia and Egypt. The supply of water seems to have been abundant and of the purest quality, but, through the ignorance of succeeding generations, which destroyed the forests, extensive tracts, once verdant as a garden and traversed by navigable streams, have been changed into arid plains barren of all vegetation and seamed with dry and rocky ravines.

The mineral resources of Sicily were of remarkable richness and variety. Gold and silver were found in considerable quantities. There were mines of lead, iron, quicksilver, copper, antimony. Volcanic products, such as vitriol, sal-ammoniac, naphtha, pitch, and sulphur, were obtained with trifling labor. The deposits of rock-salt and alum, of inexhaustible extent and unusual purity, were of themselves sufficient, if properly developed, to insure the prosperity of any nation. The fine jaspers and marbles of the Sicilian quarries were well known to the builders of antiquity, and the Moorish architects were not slow to recognize their excellence and to employ them in the construction of the palaces with which the Arab nobles embellished the suburbs of the great centres of commerce and power. The sunny slopes of the hills furnished abundant pasturage for droves of cattle and flocks of goats and sheep. The horses of Italy were renowned for their fleetness and symmetry. Among the pursuits of the Saracen colonists apiculture was not neglected, and honey was exported in quantities to Italy and other countries of Christian Europe. But meagre accounts of the manufactures and trade of Moorish Sicily have been transmitted to posterity. It is well known, however, that commercial relations existed between the principal ports of the island and the maritime nations of the Mediterranean. The merchantmen of its thriving seaports exchanged the products of the East and West in the harbors of Malaga, Alexandria, Constantinople. No people surpassed the Sicilians in the delicacy and beauty of their fabrics, and the silks of Palermo, interwoven with texts and devices in gold, were highly esteemed, and much sought after by the luxurious potentates and nobles of the Mohammedan world.

Of all the imposing palaces, baths, and mosques which once adorned the Moorish cities of the island, unhappily not a vestige now remains. Nothing but a few scattered and broken inscriptions has survived the violence of mediæval times, to attest the pomp and splendor of the Sicilian emirs. The architecture of no other people has suffered such complete and systematic annihilation. Two or three structures, erected during the rule of the Norman princes, but whose proportions and ornamentation, while remarkable, yet disclose unmistakably the decadence of architectural skill, are all we have upon which to found an opinion of the magnificence of Mohammedan Palermo.

It must not be forgotten that the advances of the Sicilian Moslems in the arts of peace were made under the most discouraging circumstances. War was the normal state of the country from the invasion by Asad-Ibn-Forat to the surrender of the last castle to the Normans. When the Saracens were not engaged in hostilities with the Christians, they amused themselves by cutting each other’s throats. In every instance, whether plundered by Greeks or persecuted by Moslems of an unfriendly sect, the husbandman and the merchant were always the sufferers. That agriculture and commerce could exist at all under such difficulties may well awaken surprise; that a civilization superior to that of any state of Christian Europe should have been developed and sustained in spite of these obstacles is an anomaly without precedent in the history of nations.

The administration of the laws by the dominant race was, of course, based upon the principles of Moslem jurisprudence. It was not unusual, however, for these laws to be either evaded or executed with a severity never contemplated by their author. Constant familiarity with bloodshed and habitual defiance of their authority by the populace had brutalized the rulers of Sicily. They affected a reserve characteristic of the worst forms of Oriental despotism. Their features were unknown to the great body of their subjects. From motives of caution, or to enhance the mysterious dignity investing their office, they gave audience and dispensed justice from behind a curtain which entirely concealed the throne. Like the most degenerate of the Persian Fatimites, they travelled unseen in litters, attended by the effeminate ministers of their vices. The few who attained to military distinction by active operations in the field died of disease; a large proportion of those who intrusted the conduct of campaigns to subordinates perished by the hand of the assassin.

In no part of the domain of Islam was the population of a more diversified character than in Sicily. Discord and disunion were the inevitable results of its composition. In the face of an enemy, the valor of its warriors was never questioned. In the excitement of a revolution, no man was safe from the dagger of his friend. Individuals deriving their origin from so many different countries naturally brought with them the experience, the arts, the industry, the accomplishments, the vices, of their respective nations. Under a dynasty of independent and resolute princes able to repress the outbreaks of tribal discord, Sicily would undoubtedly have risen to the most exalted rank in the scale of civilization. As it was, with all her serious impediments to progress, she had no rival excepting Spain among the kingdoms of Europe. Her armies wrested from the Byzantine Emperor one of the most valuable provinces of his dominions. Her navy for a considerable period enjoyed the maritime superiority of both the Adriatic and the Mediterranean. The country, in spite of civil commotion and the consequent insecurity, was densely populated. In 938 the inhabitants of the valley of Mazara alone amounted to two million,—half of whom were Moslems. The elegant luxury of Palermo surpassed in taste while it equalled in splendor the barbaric pomp of Constantinople. The domestic and social conditions prevailing in Germany, Italy, France, and England were incomparably inferior in all the qualities by which the advancement and happiness of nations are promoted to those, defective as they were, by which society in Moorish Sicily was organized and controlled. In the province of letters the Sicilian Moslems seem to have merited distinction not inferior to that achieved by their Andalusian brethren. A long catalogue of authors, whose compositions, for the most part, unhappily have perished, indicate the esteem in which literature was held, as well as the prodigal liberality by which the efforts of its professors were rewarded.

The influence of Sicilian civilization upon the Normans exhibits the counterpart of that exercised by the decaying genius of Rome upon the fierce and untutored barbarians. But the minds of the former were far better fitted to receive the impressions imparted by association and example than were those of the followers of Alaric and Alboin. They were somewhat accustomed to the conveniences and the luxuries of life, and not entirely ignorant of the amenities of social intercourse. They had travelled far and had insensibly made comparisons between the usages of many nations. The architectural remains of the mighty empire of the Cæsars had awakened their admiration. They were familiar with the defaced, but still awe-inspiring, monuments of Roman grandeur. Tradition, embellished with a thousand enchanting legends, had brought before them visions of the majesty and glory of the greatest powers of the ancient world. Intimate contact with the Greek colonists of Southern Italy, who still retained in a measure the graces and the refinement of their ancestors, gave them well-defined ideas of the civilization enjoyed by the original seat of literary superiority, of architectural perfection, of artistic excellence. Thus the Normans were ready, even eager, to receive from their Moorish vassals lessons in those elegant pursuits whose advantages they had long appreciated, but had never enjoyed. The Moslems, as a rule, were granted every courtesy by their Christian neighbors, who quickly recognized their superior intellectual acquirements. They celebrated in public, and without molestation, the festivals of their religion. The rich freely indulged their inclination for splendid attire and imposing retinues. They had their own ministers of justice and of worship, their markets, mosques, and judicial tribunals. The majority of the merchants of Palermo under the Norman domination were Mohammedans.

Reluctant, perhaps unable, to discriminate, the invaders grew corrupt, and the evils characteristic of a sensual and luxurious race were insensibly adopted with the benefits which its culture afforded. After the Norman conquest, the spirit of Moorish civilization still remained paramount. The Saracens formed no unimportant part of the military establishment of their conquerors, maintained both for service and ostentation. At the siege of Amalfi, in 1096, twenty thousand of them served under the Norman standard. In 1113, when Adelaide, mother of Count Roger, went to Ascalon to marry Baldwin, King of Jerusalem, she presented him with a band of Moorish archers splendidly uniformed in scarlet and gold. The forms of government observed by the emirs were retained. Moslem ministers and magistrates directed the administration of the state, regulated the finances, dispensed justice. The Arabic tongue continued to be not only the recognized medium of communication between all classes of society, but the vehicle of public acts and edicts, and the official idiom of the courts of law. Over the gateways of palaces constructed by the princes of the family of De Hauteville are still to be deciphered legends whose sentiment is unmistakably Mohammedan. The Norman coins were stamped with sentences from the Koran and with the date of the Hegira. The dress, the manners, the etiquette of public audiences, the habits of private intercourse, became essentially Oriental. The umbrella, an emblem of royalty borrowed from the Fatimites of Egypt, was borne over the heads of the Norman kings on occasions of ceremony. The robes of distinguished personages were interwoven with Arabic texts, whose characters and whose significance excited the pious horror of the orthodox. The regulation of the royal household was modelled after that of the emirate. The very titles of the public officials were Arabic. The education of youth was committed without reserve to learned doctors of the Mussulman or the Hebrew faith. In some of the harems of the Norman lords the inmates were all Mohammedans; in those of others, Christian damsels shared the favor and the affection of the licentious noble. No restrictions were imposed upon the religious prejudices of either, and it is related that the Christians, convinced by the arguments or the fascinations of their infidel associates, not infrequently became proselytes to the doctrines of Islam. Under the enlightened government of the Normans, persecution was unknown. Indeed, the vanquished people were regarded with such partiality that Count Roger absolutely forbade that any Moslem should, even by the most gentle means, be converted to Christianity. The clergy, unable to resist the prevailing influence, suffered their sacred edifices to be adorned with sentences from the Koran, whose monotheistic tendency accorded ill with the accepted maxims of patristic theology and the infallible edicts of ecclesiastical councils. From the balcony of the minaret and the tower of the cathedral the voice of the muezzin or the pealing of the bell called the pious to worship, and from the altars of every community arose in unison the praise of Allah and the invocation of the Triune God.

The traveller Ibn-Haukal and the geographer Edrisi have left us interesting and lively descriptions of the great Moslem cities of Sicily under Norman rule. Of these Palermo easily took precedence, not only on account of its being the metropolis, but by reason of the superior wealth, intelligence, and culture of its citizens. Of the number of its inhabitants no data have survived to enable us to form an approximate computation. They must have amounted, however, to several hundred thousand, as five hundred mosques were required for the worship of the Mussulmans, and, as a rule, the Christian population in every community equalled, if it did not exceed, that of the sectaries of Islam. Many of these structures were superb temples, whose costly decorations attested the liberality of the prince or the devotion of the multitude. Some were of vast dimensions; the largest could accommodate with ease seven thousand worshippers. The vanity of private individuals, whose wealth permitted them to indulge their taste for ostentation and offer an exhibition of zeal not always above suspicion, possessed mosques of their own, from which all were excluded save their own relatives, dependents, vassals, and slaves. But not alone in their places of worship did the prodigal and luxurious citizens of Palermo emulate the magnificence of their neighbors. The palaces of the rich and the great were unsurpassed by those of any Moslem capital excepting Cordova. The skill and delicacy of the labor expended upon them corresponded with the rare and precious character of the materials of which they were composed. The walls were encased with variegated marbles, the floors were formed of mosaic, the ceilings exhibited a labyrinth of geometric tracery relieved by brilliant coloring and resplendent with gold. Rows of aromatic shrubs filled the court-yards with their fragrance. The predilection of the Arab for water—the greatest treasure of the Desert—was everywhere manifested. Aqueducts composed of tiers of towering arches skirted the mountains in all directions. Canals traversed the plantations and gardens of the extensive suburbs. Fountains of classic design cooled the air of parks and promenades or quenched the thirst of the tired and dusty caravan. The city, from east to west, was intersected by the market-place, a wide street paved with hewn-stone and lined with shops filled with the most valuable commodities known to the commerce of the age. The central or older portion of the city was the seat of the court and the residence of the monarch. The suburbs almost entirely surrounded it, and contained the quays, the warehouses, the markets, the caravansaries, necessary to the traffic of a great maritime emporium. Like Cordova, Palermo was divided into five separate quarters, each of which was isolated from the others when the gates were closed. The houses were of blocks of polished stone put together with the greatest accuracy, the streets were lighted, the mansions of commanding height and symmetrical proportions, the habitations of the poor more commodious than the dwellings of many of the wealthy burghers of Paris and London. In the time of Ibn-Jubair, who visited Palermo during the reign of William the Good, the costumes and the manners of the Christians were not distinguishable from those of their Moslem vassals. The ladies wore veils of different colors and garments of mingled silk and gold. Dainty slippers, embroidered in arabesques with the precious metals, protected their tiny feet, jewelled ornaments of exquisite patterns glittered upon their bosoms, and the aroma of costly essences which enveloped them revealed their passionate love of perfumes. The fusion of races was nowhere so apparent or so remarkable as in the unrestricted intimacy maintained, and in the refined courtesies reciprocated by the once hostile nationalities which composed the population of the Norman capital. The amenities of social intercourse required the practice of politeness and of self-restraint even among enemies. In the time of William the Good cruelty and rapine were stigmatized as Teutonic vices.

The noble and elevating pursuits of science were not neglected under the Moors of Sicily and their intelligent and progressive conquerors, the Norman princes. Geography, astronomy, chemistry, and medicine were studied with diligence and success. Edrisi, whose descent from the royal dynasty of Fez has been obscured by the eminent reputation he attained as a geographer and a philosopher, made for Roger II. a planisphere which represented at once the surface of the earth and the positions of the heavenly bodies. From the minarets of Palermo, the Arab astronomer observed the motions of the planets, the periodical recurrence of eclipses, the relative positions and general distribution of the stars in space, by the aid of instruments invented on the Guadalquivir and the Tigris, and of tables computed on the plains of Babylon centuries before the Christian era. The Moslem thus consecrated to the prosecution of scientific research the towers of his most sacred temples, at a time when from the cathedrals of Europe doctrines were promulgated which menaced, with the severest penalties that ecclesiastical malignity could devise, every occupation which in any way contributed to the emancipation of reason or the intellectual progress of humanity. Astrology, that delusive study so flattering to the vanity of human nature, and so alluring to the imagination from the preternatural power supposed to be wielded by the charlatans who practised it, too often discredited the results of astronomical investigation; just as the vain and costly pursuit of the philosopher’s stone brought into disrepute at first the pre-eminently useful science of chemistry. The Sicilians were firm believers in the influence exerted by the heavenly bodies upon the actions and the destiny of man. The attempt to extract the precious metals from the most unpromising substances of nature had long engaged the attention of the Arab, and the cities of the island swarmed with impostors who cast horoscopes, interpreted dreams, and predicted future events by pretended communion with the stars, while the fires in the laboratory of the alchemist were maintained at the expense of innumerable dupes of their own credulity, whose hopes were sustained by mystery and fraud, while their purses were being systematically depleted. The superior intelligence of the higher classes afforded no immunity from these popular delusions; the noble embraced their principles with the same confidence and the same avidity as were displayed by the plebeian and the slave. The home of the alchemist was habitually frequented by the highest officials of the court, and the astrologer, with his peculiar garb, his long staff engraved with talismanic signs, his flowing beard, and his air of mysterious assurance, was the most welcome guest in the palaces of Palermo.

The Arabs of Sicily, with their brethren of Spain, owing to their extraordinary and thorough proficiency in medicine and surgery, were the most skilful practitioners in Europe. Their eminence in this profession was, to a large extent, shared by the Jews, who, as a race, were the recipients of royal favor and public confidence under the Norman as well as under the Saracen domination. The peer of the Moslem in every branch of scientific knowledge, the Hebrew brought to the study and application of the principles of the healing art the same keen perception and unerring tact which enabled him in all ages to rise to the most commanding positions in the mercantile world.

In their acquaintance with the mechanical arts the Sicilians were not inferior to their most accomplished contemporaries. Their hydraulic system was provided with all the appliances which had been tested by those nations whose arid soil required the artificial stimulus of irrigation. Their mills dotted the banks of every stream whose current afforded sufficient motive power for the propulsion of a water-wheel. The products of their looms were famous for their exquisite patterns and the fineness of their texture. They seemed to have also excelled in the invention and manufacture of contrivances for the measurement of time. A clepsydra belonging to Roger II. has been commemorated by an inscription which would indicate that it equalled in ingenuity and perfection the famous one presented by Harun-al-Raschid to Charlemagne. The hours were marked off by automatons, which dropped a corresponding number of balls into a metallic basin, a not unworthy predecessor of the modern clock. A considerable number of the astrolabes, which, having fortunately escaped the effects of ecclesiastical fury wreaked upon them as magical instruments and devices of Satan, are now preserved in the museums of Europe, are of undoubted Sicilian origin.

Abu-Layth, an architect and engineer, who had been educated in the schools of Sicily, assisted in the completion of the great mosque of Seville, erected during the twelfth century, and the globes of gilded bronze which crowned the summit of the Giralda, whose extraordinary dimensions and perfect symmetry excited the wonder of all beholders, were cast and raised to their places under his supervision. The superiority of the Sicilian Moslems in the construction and management of military engines has been already referred to in these pages.

The court of Palermo for more than a century was no less distinguished for the literary acquirements of those who, attracted by its reputation and the character of its society, took up their abode in its precincts, than for the scientific studies pursued with such ardor under the patronage of its sovereigns. During the Saracen rule, translations of those classical authors who wrote on philosophy and natural history were made; the perusal of the works of Aristotle, for whose doctrines the Moslems of the Middle Ages evinced such a remarkable predilection, was one of the favorite diversions of the learned; and the poems of Pagan Arabia were recited in the elegant idiom of the Desert, amidst the applause of believer and infidel alike, almost within hearing of the metropolis of Christendom. The prodigious stores of learning accumulated by the philosophers of the Alexandrian school, through the boundless munificence of the Greek dynasty of Egypt, enriched the libraries and cultivated the understanding of the scholars of Sicily. The writings of Hero, of Eratosthenes, of Euclid, and of Ptolemy were familiar to the students in attendance upon the academies and colleges of Palermo and Messina. The Syntaxis, the Geography, and the Optics of the latter have survived, mainly through the instrumentality of the Moors, the indiscriminate destructiveness of the barbarians and the calculating malice of the clergy, to convey to subsequent generations instructive and significant ideas of the philosophical attainments and mathematical knowledge of one of the most accomplished scholars of antiquity. The great work of Edrisi was compiled under the auspices of Roger II. The Arab was peculiarly fitted for the treatment of the comprehensive science of physical and descriptive geography. His information had been largely obtained by practical experience. He had served in campaigns conducted on the frontiers of civilization; in the capacity of a merchant he had traversed with the plodding caravan vast regions diversified with illimitable plains, lofty mountains, noble rivers; as a pilgrim he had performed his devotions at the cradle of the Moslem faith; in the tireless pursuit of learning he had prosecuted his researches over strange countries and among strange peoples; his features and his costume were familiar to the residents of the great European and Asiatic capitals; his peregrinations had extended from the Douro to the Indus, from the shores of the Baltic to the sources of the Nile. Thus endowed with especial qualifications, the Arab geographer was equally at home, whether recounting to a delighted audience the experiences of an extended journey or explaining to an assemblage of students the physical features of the earth and the relative distribution of land and water as depicted on the surface of a terrestrial globe. The work of Edrisi is an imperishable monument to the intelligence, the industry, the criticism, of the compiler, whose studies were confirmed in many instances by personal observation, and the practical value of whose undertaking was established by his scientific attainments as well as by the copious erudition of the illustrious monarch by whose command it originated and was brought to a successful termination.

In the exact sciences the Arabs of Sicily attained to a proficiency unsurpassed by any nation since the glorious days of the Alexandrian Museum, and, in fact, they appropriated and absorbed much of the knowledge bequeathed to posterity by that immortal institution. Their geometers applied that knowledge to the improvement of hydraulic apparatus, to the increase in power and efficiency of military engines, to astronomical observations which facilitated the explorations of the navigator, to a thousand inventions which promoted the convenience and the happiness of domestic life. The leisure of the emirs and of the Norman princes was amused, and the literary ambition of their accomplished courtiers excited, by the recitations of famous bards, who, in a land which still cherished the memory of the incomparable poetic inspiration of Greece and Rome, competed for the applause of an audience in whose eyes ready improvisation and extravagant metaphors were infallible tokens of the highest excellence.

Of such a character were the material civilization, the scientific achievements, the intellectual culture of Moorish and Norman Sicily. Its glories have long since departed. Of the hundreds of palaces and mosques whose majestic and elegant proportions were the pride of the Moslem cities, not one has escaped the destructive touch of plebeian vandalism and ecclesiastical hatred. The Sicilian population, from being one of the most cultivated, has degenerated into the most ignorant of Catholic Europe. The suburbs of Palermo, once the abode of every science and of every art, are now so infested with brigands that they cannot be traversed in safety by the traveller without the protection of an armed guard. For the medical experience and skilful offices of the surgeon have been substituted arduous penance and the application of suspicious, often spurious relics. Intellectual liberty and religious toleration have been supplanted by the repression of thought, by the discouragement of every noble impulse, by the tyranny of a superstition which degrades the mind and enfeebles every aspiration which can promote the material welfare of humanity.

The enterprising spirit of the Arabs which induced them to extend their conquests to all accessible points on the Mediterranean early suggested the occupation of the largest islands of that sea, whose importance as naval stations whence invading armies might be transported into Europe, and as bases for the equipment of piratical undertakings, was fully recognized by every nation. The Balearic Isles were a dependency of the khalifate of Cordova. They paid tribute to its sovereigns like other provinces of the empire, furnished troops for its armies, participated largely in its civilization, and, fortunate in their isolation, survived for nearly two centuries its overthrow. Sardinia, invaded by Musa in the first years of the eighth century, was never completely subjugated by the Saracens. The mountainous and barren interior of that island, sparsely inhabited by a barbarous and poverty-stricken peasantry, repelled them from a conquest whose doubtful advantages could not possibly compensate for the toil and danger necessary to secure it, and the coast with its harbors seemed the only territory worthy of their attention. For the space of seventy years the Moors retained a precarious foothold on the shores of that island, and the possession of a few insignificant seaports was disputed by the Franks and Italians with a pertinacity not unworthy of a contest involving the fate of an extensive kingdom.

In 722 the Saracens, having become familiar with the extensive traffic in relics carried on by the Catholic clergy and determined to turn to their own profit the superstitious credulity of the devout, entered into negotiations with Liutprand, King of the Lombards, for the sale of the body of St. Augustine, which had reposed in peace for two hundred years in the metropolitan church of Cagliari. The transaction was betrayed by the arrival of the messengers of Liutprand, and the people, incited by the monks, rose in revolt. An unsuccessful attempt was made to rescue the ashes of the saint, the Arab garrison was called out to quell the tumult, and seven monks paid the extreme penalty of their zeal, and perhaps not wholly disinterested piety. In view of the precious character of these mementos and of the difficulties attending their transfer, the Arabs exacted, in addition to the price already agreed upon, the payment of three pounds of gold and twelve of silver; an amount which indicates the immense value of the original ransom. The grief of the devout inhabitants of Cagliari on account of their loss was somewhat alleviated by the remembrance that the vestments which had been torn from the bones of the saint in the struggle still remained in their hands, and the innumerable miracles wrought by these tattered garments, confirmed by the highest ecclesiastical authority, long attested the celestial influence and supernatural virtues possessed by the sacred relics of the deceased Bishop of Hippo.

Crete, captured by refugees from Spain, who, exiled from that country for treason during the reign of Al-Hakem I., were subsequently driven from Alexandria by the infuriated populace, whose hospitality they had abused, remained in the hands of the Moslems until 961, when it was reconquered by the Greeks. The Spanish Arabs about the year 806 descended upon the coast of Corsica. The timely aid of King Pepin prevented the immediate loss of that island, which, however, was occupied by the Saracens in 810. The despairing Corsicans, who had betaken themselves to the mountain solitudes, solicited the aid of Charlemagne, who sent a powerful fleet to their relief. The Moslems, after a series of sanguinary engagements, were absolutely exterminated by the ferocious warriors of the West; but the unfortunate Corsicans fared little better than their enemies, for it is stated by respectable authority that nine-tenths of the population perished within less than three years from the effects of the Saracen invasion. The shores of the island are still covered with ruins of extensive towns and cities dating from that period, indicating the former prosperity of the inhabitants, as well as the frightful calamities which they must have endured at the hands of the truculent adventurers of Spain and Africa.

Malta, acknowledged in the Middle Ages, as now, to be the key of the Eastern Mediterranean, was for two hundred and twenty years an important dependency of the Sicilian Emirate. Taken by the Moslems in 870, it was occupied by the Norman troops, led by Count Roger in person, in 1090. The subjects of the Greek Emperor were put to death or enslaved, but for the native Maltese the Arabs manifested an unusual partiality. Their lot was far more tolerable than that of the tributary Christians of Sicily, their religion was unmolested, their taxes were moderate, the privileges conceded to them more favorable than those ordinarily accorded to infidels. The inhabitants of all these islands, except Sicily, which made war upon an extensive scale, subsisted by piratical depredations and by trade in slaves, in which reprehensible practices the Moors of Malta early obtained an undisputed and infamous pre-eminence.

In this chapter has been traced an incomplete outline of the origin, progress, and decline of the Moslem domination in Sicily, a subject which, if elaborated, would embrace many volumes. From this imperfect sketch, however, the reader may form an idea of a civilization centuries in advance of that of any contemporaneous people, with the single exception of the Spanish Arabs; a civilization which, fostered and perpetuated under the brilliant reign of the Emperor Frederick II., effected such a memorable revolution in the ideas and opinions entertained as indisputably correct by the devout and the credulous of many preceding ages.

CHAPTER XVI
THE PRINCIPALITIES OF MOORISH SPAIN
1012–1044

Immobility of the African Race—Its Hostility to Civilization—Its Pernicious Influence on the Politics of the Western Khalifate—Character of Suleyman—Invasion of Ali—He ascends the Throne—His Tyranny—He is assassinated—Abd-al-Rahman IV. succeeds Him—Yahya—Abd-al-Rahman V.—Mohammed—Hischem III.—Organization of the Council of State—Ibn-Djahwar, the Minister—His Talents and Power—Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, Kadi of Seville—Berber Conspiracy—The Impostor Khalaf is raised to the Throne as Hischem II.—Almeria—The Vizier Ibn-Abbas—Influence of the Jews at Granada—The Rabbi Samuel—Rivalry of Granada and Almeria—Abu-al-Fotuh—Motadhid ascends the Throne of Seville—His Cruel and Dissolute Character—His Collection of Skulls—Badis, King of Granada—-Increasing Power of Castile—Valencia and Malaga—Atrocities of the Christians at Barbastro.

From the earliest period mentioned in history, as has been remarked in a previous chapter, the spirit of the various tribes inhabiting the great continent of Africa has been constantly hostile to human progress. The ignorance, cruelty, and depravity of those nations whose territory did not touch the shores of the Mediterranean have always seemed impregnable to the beneficent and ordinarily irresistible influences of civilization. It is true that the northern extremity of that continent has been the seat of powerful empires, of great cities, of rich and enterprising centres of commercial activity. But this superior culture, confined to a narrow strip whose southern boundary was only a few days’ journey from the coast, was without exception exotic. The origin of the Egyptians, lost in the depths of a remote and unknown antiquity, has never been conclusively established. But it is almost certain that it was not African. The ethnical peculiarities which formerly distinguished, and are still noticeable in, the inhabitants of the Valley of the Nile had nothing in common with the physical and mental characteristics of surrounding nations. The rigid seclusion that, as a principle of national policy, prevailed in ancient Egypt from time immemorial sufficiently precludes the existence of extraneous influence. Subsequently, under the enlightened empire of the Ptolemies, while the form of government and the religious ceremonial of ancient times were preserved, the traditions of the schools and the social atmosphere which surrounded the splendid court of Alexandria were entirely Grecian. Carthage was a Phœnician colony. The instincts of its citizens, their energy, their duplicity, their luxury, their vices, their political organization, their maritime enterprise, their architecture, and their gods were Tyrian, and consequently Asiatic. The prosperity enjoyed by the Latin colonies established after the Punic Wars, when the countries situated on the southern shores of the Mediterranean shared with Egypt the burden of providing sustenance for the slothful and turbulent populace of Italy, was due to the example, the policy, the institutions of Rome. The empire of the Edrisites, the magnificence of Fez and Kairoan, the wonderful cultivation of the Desert, the subjugation and control of the fierce tribesmen of the Atlas, were the work of princes of Arab blood. In all these glories of commerce, art, and opulence the Africans had no share. They served in the armies of the conqueror, but without loyalty, honor, or gratitude. Their insubordination wrought far greater injury to the cause of good government than their efforts promoted its advancement. They zealously preserved their malign and destructive instincts in the midst of the most refined and intellectual society of the age. Incapable of profiting by the civilization by which they were surrounded, their only aim seemed to be the obliteration of those evidences of mental superiority which they could neither appreciate nor enjoy. Nor have the benevolent and humanizing influences of the nineteenth century been able to remove the incorrigible barbarism of the African. The tribes of the Sahara are no further advanced in the arts of peace than when they yielded a sullen and reluctant obedience to the military genius of Musa. The lives of well-meaning sentimentalists have been vainly sacrificed to ameliorate the debased condition of the Negro. Even with the example of the most polished nations of modern times before him, the advantages of education, rare opportunities for the accumulation of wealth, intimacy with the learned, participation in government, social privileges—all these blessings have served only to confirm and emphasize the inherent and irredeemable stupidity, malice, and bestiality of his nature,—characteristics transmitted by a savage, perhaps by a simian ancestry. Association with the Romans—degenerate as they had become since the glorious days of the Republic and the Empire—aroused in the minds of the Goth and the Vandal aspirations to, at least in some degree, imitate that excellence which made their own deficiencies the more conspicuous. They gradually discarded their savage customs. They adopted the salutary institutions of the vanquished. They emulated—often with little success, but with the most praiseworthy intentions—the heroic virtues of antiquity. By this means the immortal genius of Roman civilization in a measure survived, to exert its refining power upon subsequent ages. Not so, however, with the African. His proximity to and intercourse with the highly cultured nations of Europe produced no improvement in his domestic life, no stimulation of his intellectual faculties, no mitigation of his brutal and ferocious nature. He was the principal means by which the Ommeyade empire was both founded and annihilated. His native rudeness and repugnance to discipline were manifested even before the termination of the Conquest. From the hordes of the Atlas and the Sahara were recruited the ruthless soldiery by whom the disturbances that distracted the emirate were perpetuated. They formed an important but treacherous contingent of the armies of the khalifate. While nominally adherents of the Mohammedan faith, they continued to observe those idolatrous ceremonies which had provoked the maledictions of the Prophet. Obedience to the sovereign was always subordinated to reverence for the chieftain. They maintained under the most adverse circumstances the primitive traditions of their race. Their camp was the daily scene of savage rites, of the practice of divination, witchcraft, sorcery, and magic. In their civil organization, the patriarchal simplicity of the Desert prevailed, their military evolutions were the clamorous and irregular demonstrations of brave but undisciplined barbarians. Their overpowering impulse was that of indiscriminating destruction. They viewed with stolid indifference the incomparable monuments of Saracen culture. The most exquisite works of art, in whose fabrication was exhausted the skill of the goldsmith and the enameler, were broken and melted for the sake of the precious metals they contained. The Berber was the very embodiment of cruelty, perfidy, disorganization, and ruin. In comparison with his boundless capacity for mischief, all the destructive agencies exerted by the hostile races composing the population of the Western Khalifate were insignificant. The inexhaustible numbers of the tribes of Numidia and Mauritania, whence were drawn alike the instruments of regal tyranny and of servile revolution, their prowess, their indomitable ferocity, their impetuous ardor, the persistence of their Pagan ideas and their social customs, rendered them most formidable impediments of civilization. To the incessant immigration from Africa, to the enrolment of Berber mercenaries in the armies of Mohammedan Spain, to the impolitic appeals for aid to the semi-barbarian princes of Al-Maghreb, are to be attributed far more than to the rivalry of Arab tribes or to the inherent defects of the Moslem constitution—serious as these undoubtedly were—the succession of disasters which overtook the empire of the Ommeyades, and the unspeakable crimes which stain the Moorish annals of the eleventh century, whose deplorable consequences were felt to the remotest corners of the Peninsula.

I have been led to the consideration of the topic discussed in the preceding pages by reason of the prominent part assumed by the African tribes during the closing years of the Moslem domination in Spain. While an apparent digression, it is in fact inseparable from a complete account of the events transpiring in the dominions once embraced by the khalifate of Cordova. The relations of Africa and Mussulman Europe had long been intimate. The jealousies of ambition and sovereignty had, except in infrequent and isolated cases, been subordinated to the offices of mutual kindness and friendship. No serious acts of hostility had as yet been permitted to interrupt the cordial intercourse which—facilitated by the short distance separating the two continents—existed between nations acknowledging, at least in form, the same religion and governed by similar laws. Wealthy traders maintained commercial establishments at the same time in Almeria and Kairoan. The sons of sheiks of the Desert rose to high commands under the famous princes of the House of Ommeyah. The negro slaves of the Soudan were repeatedly chosen to guard the sacred person of the monarch. The erudition of the philosophers of Cordova had been exhibited to the astonishment, if not to the approbation, of the fanatical sectaries of Fez. Powerful princes of Mauritania had more than once rendered homage and paid tribute to the rulers of the mighty Khalifate of the West. They had submitted with a feeling of pride to the supremacy of one of the most renowned of those rulers, for they remembered that he was popularly reputed to be of the same origin and of kindred blood. During the administration of Al-Mansur, no African prince would have cherished the apparently chimerical hope that his dynasty was destined to influence, in a decisive way, the future of the Peninsula. The death of that great commander, who left no worthy successor, encouraged the aspirations of every ambitious chieftain to plunge the country into anarchy, a condition from which he might possibly emerge with the lion’s share of power and plunder. In less than forty years the Berbers obtained control of the most valuable portion of the rich inheritance of the Moslems of Spain; in less than a century and a half the magnificent empire of the Ommeyades, whose civilization had been the marvel of the age, its cities sacked and demolished, its fertile fields laid waste, its commerce annihilated, its industrious and thriving population massacred or condemned to painful servitude, had descended, from the exalted rank of a monarchy whose name was mentioned with respect and fear by the most distant and inaccessible nations, to the humiliating position of a dependency of the barbarous and illiterate sultans of Africa.

The jurisdiction of the self-designated Khalif Suleyman, who, as the head of the Berber faction, had acquired an appearance of regal authority by a frightful expenditure of blood, was confined to a circumscribed extent of territory including only five populous cities, of which Cordova, whose possession implied the prestige and power of an imperial title, was, of course, the most important. At the first appearance of national discord consequent on the dismemberment of the khalifate, the military commanders who occupied the strongest fortresses proclaimed their neutrality or independence. The Eastern provinces of the Peninsula, whose territory had hitherto escaped the calamities which had so seriously afflicted the less fortunate regions of the West, preserved, by the freedom of their ports, the enterprise of their merchants, and the unmolested industry of their laborers, a prosperity of diminished extent and uncertain duration, but one which contrasted vividly with the miserable condition of the once flourishing centres of trade and agriculture, in happier days the pride of beautiful Andalusia. Here the Slave officers appointed under the nominal authority of the royal puppet, Hischem II., held their courts and displayed on a limited theatre all the luxurious magnificence and tyrannical caprices of Asiatic despotism. In the North, where the adherents of the Amirides abounded, the Berber princes of Saragossa and Toledo maintained an appearance of barbaric pomp and martial rivalry. From the latter, who, like the Slaves, had asserted their independence, Suleyman, although his troops were allied to their subjects by the closest bonds of nationality and relationship, could expect no support. He was therefore compelled to rely entirely upon his army, composed of soldiers of fortune, whose fidelity was wholly dependent on the willingness of their general to indulge their mutinous instincts and their love of rapine. Of these mercenaries, who, half Pagan and half Christian, served with singular inconsistency under the standard of a Moslem prince against sectaries of his own religion, the bitter enemies of both, the Berbers were the controlling element. They were regarded by the mass of the population of Moorish Spain, and especially by the Arabs of noble blood, with peculiar execration. The fact that under the very shadow of the noble mosques of the Andalusian capital they habitually practised heathen rites denounced by the Koran and abhorred by every Mussulman was notorious. The rich and flexible idiom of the Peninsula, the pride of the Arab, the language spoken by the Prophet, the medium by which the learning of the scholars of the Moslem world had been communicated and preserved, was wholly unknown to them. Their uncouth manners and insolent bearing excited the disgust of a people proverbial for their native refinement and dignified courtesy. Every city, every hamlet, every plantation, bore ineffaceable marks of the blind ferocity of these detested foreigners. They had sacked the splendid metropolis of the West. They had transformed the unrivalled palace and suburb of Medina-al-Zahrâ into a heap of blackened ruins. Their violence had made of the most fertile portions of Andalusia an uninhabited and gloomy solitude. The towns swarmed with Berber robbers, who pursued their nefarious calling almost without hinderance; the country was unsafe on account of the organized bands of Berber outlaws that infested the highways. Crime of every description enjoyed immunity through the corrupt partnership of its perpetrators with the authorities, who greedily shared their booty. The confiscated spoils of noble families that traced their ancestry to the Companions of the Prophet were flaunted with the shameless impudence of legalized brigandage and irresponsible power in the faces of their former owners now reduced to penury. The beautiful wives and daughters of the Arab aristocracy were dragged from their homes to pine in the harems of brutal and half-savage Berber chieftains. The African prejudice against learning had caused the extermination of the philosophers of Cordova,—a deed whose atrocity was aggravated by the fact that the victims were non-combatants, a class protected by the soldiery of every generous and self-respecting nation. Not without cause did the poet lament that the wrath of Allah had unchained a legion of demons to afflict with unspeakable misery the imperial cities adorned with the triumphs of the august line of the Ommeyades.

The sovereign of these oppressors, through the circumstances of his position, had become a cruel tyrant. By nature he was inclined to peace. When untrammelled by the baneful associations which had corrupted his mind, and through whose influence he had risen to power, he exhibited the disposition of a generous and enlightened ruler. He strictly observed the principles of humanity and justice. His decisions as a magistrate were characterized by a spirit of impartial equity. His temper was mild. He was a friend of letters, and disclosed in the poetic efforts attributed to him ability of no mean order. His greatest delight was in the familiar conversation of scholars, whose talents he appreciated and whose tastes he encouraged. He availed himself of every resource at his command to restore tranquillity and confidence in the communities terrorized by the excesses of his followers. It was only when the interests of the latter were directly involved that he remembered the instruments of his greatness, and sanctioned crimes that have left an indelible blot upon his name.

In spite of the pretensions of Suleyman and his occupation of the throne of the khalifs, the khotba, or public prayer, for Hischem II., whose death had not been established to the satisfaction of the people, was still, despite the entreaties and the protests of the usurper, recited in the Andalusian mosques. The corpse of the last of the Ommeyades had never been exhibited to the populace for identification. The presumption of his survival was in a measure confirmed by the strict seclusion in which he had passed his life. A generation of tutelage and imbecility had not entirely destroyed the prestige of that dynasty whose heroic achievements had reflected such lustre on the Moslem name. Pretenders to the supreme power, concealing their ambition under the specious pretext of liberating an imprisoned sovereign and avenging his wrongs, arose throughout the cities of the South. The ablest and most powerful of these was Khairan, governor of Almeria, an official who had stood high in the favor of Al-Mansur. Even in Africa the aspirations of enterprising generals were excited by the alluring prospect of a vacant throne, a prize which in the lottery of war might readily fall to a bold and fortunate soldier. The excellent qualities of Suleyman did not compensate in the eyes of the multitude for the unpopular methods by which he had risen to power. A leader was soon found who was disposed to profit by the universal discontent. Ali-Ibn-Hamud, at that time governor of Ceuta, had been one of the ablest officers in the armies of Al-Mansur and had served with distinction under that commander. He traced his genealogy to the family of Mohammed. His ancestors, long domiciled in Mauritania, were, however, regarded by the Berbers as of common nationality with themselves. His instincts and associations led him to identify himself with their cause, although he claimed descent from the son-in-law of the Prophet. An understanding was established by the emissaries of their countrymen between the ambitious general and certain conspirators in Spain. Gifted with the astuteness of his race, he easily deceived the superstitious Khairan with a false account of an interview with Hischem, during which he alleged that the latter had appointed him his successor, proclaimed himself the champion of the persecuted Khalif, and, enlisting the sympathies of the innumerable malcontents who viewed with favor any plan promising the overthrow of Suleyman, soon found himself at the head of a formidable revolution.

Ali had hardly landed in Andalusia, before Amir-Ibn-Fotuh, governor of Malaga, whose attachment to the family of the dethroned Khalif had been recently strengthened by the appropriation of a part of his dominions by the Berbers, surrendered that important fortress, and, Ali having formed a junction with Khairan at Almuñecar, the allied army pressed forward without delay to attack the capital. Zawi, the governor of Granada, whose authority and resources equalled those of Suleyman himself, as soon as intelligence of the invasion reached him, announced his adherence to the cause of the insurgents. The times had never been more auspicious for the enterprise of a pretender. By the populace, too often disposed to hold the leader responsible for the delinquencies of his faction, Suleyman was regarded as a fiend incarnate. The soldiers despised him because they mistook his disposition to lenity for an indication of cowardice. The supporters of the ancient dynasty and the dependents of the Amirides, who attributed to his agency the persecution of which they had been the victims, never mentioned his name without a curse. The palace and the Divan were as usual on such occasions centres of intrigue. The army swarmed with traitors. In Cordova itself the mob, which had enjoyed for centuries an unenviable reputation for inconstancy and turbulence, awaited with impatience the signal for revolt. The consequences of this political condition soon became evident. The detachments sent by Suleyman to check the insurgents were one after another put to flight. When the Prince himself appeared in the camp to take command in person, he was seized by his own troops and sent in chains to the enemy. A few days afterwards the wretched Suleyman received at the hands of the executioner, after the infliction of every insult, the last penalty of disaster and incapacity,—the usual fate of captive monarchs in that barbarous age. In spite of the diligent search instituted by the victorious generals, the missing Hischem could not be found, and, as previously related, although Suleyman had insisted that he was dead, the corpse exhumed as his and subjected to a superficial and insufficient identification was not accepted as genuine by those not interested in supporting a fraud, and the fate of the unfortunate son of Al-Hakem remains to this day an impenetrable mystery.

In compliance with an agreement in which he had taken advantage of the credulity of Khairan, Ali now assumed the royal insignia and authority, with the title of Al-Nassir-al-Din-Allah, and another usurper was invested with the uncertain and perilous dignity of nominal ruler of the dismembered khalifate.

Contrary to the expectations of his opponents, and to the infinite disgust of his partisans, who had counted upon indulgence in unbridled license, the beginning of the reign of Ali was marked by a display of moderation and justice for many years unknown to the unhappy people of Andalusia. Before his tribunal the distinctions of faction were no longer recognized, and the Spaniard, without regard to his political relations, received equal consideration with the African. The bandit propensities of the Berbers were mercilessly repressed. The fact that Ali had been reared among them, was connected with their race by ties of consanguinity, was familiar with no other tongue but theirs, and had been raised to the throne through their influence, afforded no security to the Berber malefactor. The slightest act of rapine was punished with instant death. An incident is related by the Arab historians which conveys a significant idea of this summary administration of justice. As the Khalif was once passing through a gate of the capital, he encountered a mounted Berber with a quantity of grapes on the saddle before him. The royal cavalcade was instantly halted, and the Prince demanded of the horseman: “Whence hast thou obtained those grapes?” “I seized them like a soldier,” was the insolent reply. At a signal from Ali, the culprit was at once dragged to the roadside and decapitated. His head was then fastened upon the grapes, and the horse, with its ghastly burden, preceded by a crier, was led through the principal streets of the city as an example of the fate to be expected by all whose lawless inclinations, confirmed by former impunity, tempted them to violate the rights of person and property. In the forms of legal procedure the new ruler discarded the habits of seclusion and mystery affected by the later Ommeyades, and returned to the ancient and patriarchal simplicity which had characterized from time immemorial the unceremonious judicial tribunals of the Orient. On certain appointed days, attended by a slender retinue and with scarcely any tokens of his exalted rank, he sat at the gate of the palace to receive the complaints and redress the grievances of his subjects. At the bar of this court no offender could hope for immunity through pride of lineage, amount of wealth, or important tribal affiliations. Justice was meted out equally to all. The executioner was constantly in attendance, and infliction of the penalty, whether by scourging, imprisonment, or death, followed closely upon the sentence. As the Berbers constituted the majority of the delinquents, they soon began to denounce their sovereign as a political apostate and an enemy of his race. This exhibition of judicial severity was followed by the most satisfactory results. The irresponsible infliction of unusual punishments was replaced by the regular process of law. The Berbers submitted sullenly but completely to the disagreeable but wholesome restraints of discipline. The citizen and the peasant could now, without serious molestation, pursue their ordinary employments. The streets became safe for pedestrians. The highways were purged of banditti. Commerce began to revive. The partiality of Ali for the Andalusians, who, as the more peaceable class of the population, were seldom arraigned before the magistrate to answer for violation of the laws, became daily more marked. Indeed, he had formed the commendable design of depriving his Berber subjects of the property they had acquired by the pillage of their neighbors, and of restoring to the latter the estates which had been confiscated without other warrant of authority than that conveyed by force during the lawless period which had followed the death of Al-Mansur. This plan was frustrated by the habitual inconstancy and ingratitude of the people, fomented by the discontent of a military leader, whose exaggerated estimate of his own abilities was in a direct proportion to his inordinate ambition.

For nearly two years Ali governed the states of his contracted kingdom with exemplary firmness and wisdom. But, while reluctantly acknowledging the benefits they enjoyed, the partisans of the House of Ommeyah could never forget the foreign origin and barbarian antecedents of the determined prince who had avenged their wrongs and tamed the ferocity of their savage oppressors. As for the Africans, they detested the ruler who owed his rank to their courage and treachery, and who repaid their devotion with a contumely and an impartial disregard of their claims which they did not hesitate to denounce as the most flagrant ingratitude. Thus the inflexible justice of Ali alienated his partisans, while the national prejudice against his race operated to his disadvantage in every other quarter. Aware of this feeling, Khairan, who felt aggrieved because he was not intrusted with a larger share in the government he had contributed to establish, organized a conspiracy to restore the Ommeyades to power. Al-Morthada, a great-grandson of Abd-al-Rahman III., was selected as the representative of the malcontents under the title of Abd-al-Rahman IV. The prestige investing the name of the illustrious family of the pretender, the hope of vengeance upon the Berbers, the prospect of revolution, so attractive to the Andalusian mind, brought many followers to his standard. Valencia declared for him. The governor of Saragossa espoused his cause and marched southward with a force of several thousand men. The services of Raymond, Count of Barcelona, were secured, and he appeared in the rebel camp at the head of a squadron of Christian knights sheathed in complete armor. The popularity of the enterprise enlisted the sympathy of the peasantry, always prone to insurrection. In Cordova the presence of the soldiery alone prevented an outbreak, and it was problematical for how long a time the garrison would be able to overawe the populace, even if their own fidelity remained unshaken. Indignant that his efforts for the restoration and maintenance of public order should meet with such a recompense, Ali renounced the statesmanlike policy he had hitherto pursued. The Berbers again reigned supreme in the capital. Once more the streets rang with the tumultuous din of outrage and riot, with the groans of murdered men, with the shrieks of violated women. The tribunals, which for many months had dispensed justice with rigid impartiality, now refused to entertain a complaint against the military tyrants whose passions, exasperated by restraint, raged with redoubled violence. An army of informers was maintained by the government, and eminent citizens were daily consigned to dungeons on the false testimony of the vilest of mankind. This spirit of espionage was so general that it is remarked by a writer, who himself witnessed these scenes, that “one-half of the inhabitants was constantly employed in watching the other half.” The possession of wealth was of itself a powerful incentive to an accusation of treason. A convenient and effective method of replenishing the treasury was devised by causing the arrest of the rich upon fabricated evidence and then restoring them to liberty after payment of an exorbitant ransom. When the friends of the victims came to escort them to their homes, their horses were seized and they were forced to return on foot. It was not unusual for the houses of the nobles to be robbed in open day by the African guards of the Khalif. The few remaining palaces erected by the Ommeyades were destroyed; the known adherents of that faction were persecuted with unrelenting severity, and every conceivable insult was visited upon those whose prejudices against the party in power were assumed to exist by reason of their literary tastes or their superior erudition. The mosques, which heretofore, either from superstitious fear or from motives of policy, had been exempt from forced contributions, were now subjected to the most vexatious extortion. Their ornaments were carried away. Their revenues were confiscated. The ministers of religion were taxed. Many of the finest temples of the capital were deserted or became the haunts of nocturnal marauders. Even the devout dared not assemble for the worship of God. The consciousness of the perfidious ingratitude displayed by his subjects so embittered the temper of the Khalif that he resolved upon the most extreme measures, and publicly announced his intention of razing to its foundation the city of Cordova. The accomplishment of this malignant design, which, in destroying the most splendid architectural monument of Moslem genius, would at the same time have inflicted an irreparable injury upon art and archæology, was fortunately frustrated by the assassination of the tyrant. Three of his most trusted slaves, animated by a desire to liberate their country from the evils from which it suffered, and, so far as can be determined, without the co-operation of others, killed Ali in the bath on the very day he was about to take the field against the enemy.

The murder of the usurper was far from producing the effect desired and expected by the revolutionists, who everywhere hailed it with the most extravagant demonstrations of rejoicing. The dreaded Africans still overawed the populace of the capital. The emissaries of Al-Morthada were unable to arouse the mob, in whose mind was still fresh the remembrance of the merciless vengeance of these barbarians. A council of chieftains was assembled, and the crown was offered to Kasim, the brother of Ali, at that time governor of Seville, who, a trusty lieutenant of Al-Mansur, had served with gallantry in many campaigns against the Christians.

While these events were taking place the cause of the Ommeyade party was declining. Its head, who had been proclaimed khalif under the name of Abd-al-Rahman IV., manifested too independent a spirit to please those who had expected to retain him in perpetual subjection. After the factitious enthusiasm of revolution had subsided, the ranks of the insurgents began to be seriously depleted by desertions. Recruits could not be enlisted for an enterprise which now offered the unattractive prospect of much fighting and privation and but little plunder. The governors of important towns held aloof, or withdrew from an alliance which they had never heartily indorsed. Even the ardor of the leaders was visibly cooled. Khairan himself, whose treasonable propensities were incorrigible, now agreed with Zawi, governor of Granada,—before which city the revolutionary army was encamped,—to abandon the Ommeyade pretender during the first engagement. The perfidious compact was fulfilled to the letter. The traitors deserted in the heat of battle, the faithful adherents of Al-Morthada were overpowered and cut off to a man, and that unfortunate prince, having escaped with difficulty from the field, was followed and put to death by the horsemen of Khairan.

With the death of Ali had disappeared the last impediment to the undisputed ascendency of the Berber faction. The people of Cordova, who had taken no active part in the recent disturbances, submitted with scarcely a murmur to the government of a sovereign who, though trained in camps, evinced little inclination for scenes of bloodshed. The persecution of Ali had effectually broken the spirit of the Andalusian nobility. The wealthy were impoverished. The philosophers, the theologians, the faquis,—whose hypocrisy served as a convenient cloak for their ambition,—had been either exterminated or driven into exile. Thus, the elements of successful resistance having been paralyzed or entirely eliminated, a rare opportunity was afforded for the restoration of order and prosperity. In the very first dispositions of his reign, Kasim displayed a tact and a magnanimity which would have done credit to the most enlightened monarch. He suppressed the violence which had hitherto been tolerated, if not sanctioned, by representatives of the law. He granted an amnesty to the vanquished. The treason of Khairan was pardoned. Eminent supporters of the ancient dynasty were raised to important and responsible commands. Strenuous efforts were made to heal the wounds caused by generations of civil war and to reconcile, at least in appearance, the political dissensions prevailing even among individuals of the same family, and which constantly distracted the peace of every community. This patriotic and conservative policy of Kasim had hardly commenced to restore public confidence, when a measure, adopted for his own security, once more awakened the animosity of the implacable enemies of civilization and order. Long familiarity with the inconstant attachments and treacherous character of the Berbers had rendered the Khalif unwilling to entrust his person to their keeping. They were therefore gradually removed from the palace and their places supplied by negro slaves purchased in the markets of Africa, whose habits of obedience were presumed to afford a better warrant for their fidelity than the offensive pretensions and proud independence of the desert tribes, confirmed for years by legal impunity and successful revolution. The disgrace of the royal guard was considered an unpardonable affront by every individual of the Berber nation. A plot was formed to bestow the khalifate on Yahya, a son of Ali, whose absence in Africa had alone prevented his succession to his father, and who responded with alacrity to the overtures of the Berber chieftains. Landing at Malaga, which city was under the jurisdiction of his brother Edris, and welcomed with the acclamations of the people, he occupied Cordova without encountering the slightest resistance. Kasim, having received intimations of the intended defection of his followers, left the capital at night, and, attended by five slaves on whom he could rely, withdrew to Seville. The pre-eminent unfitness of Yahya for his exalted position soon became apparent. He alienated the Berbers by refusing to restore the ancient privileges of plunder and extortion to which they considered themselves entitled by the right of conquest. Proud of his descent from the family of the Prophet, he constantly maintained a haughty demeanor towards the nobility, and disdained all intercourse with the people, whom he affected to regard as slaves. Notwithstanding this offensive assumption of superiority, he chose for his intimate associates men without standing or character, whose principal recommendation was their indulgence of his whims and their subserviency to his vices. The eminent qualifications for government derived from intellectual acquirements and military experience received no consideration at the hands of this vain and ignorant successor of the khalifs. Discontent soon spread throughout the court and the city. The Berbers importunately demanded a division of the public treasure. The slave-guards of Kasim, apprehensive for their safety, sought the presence and the forgiveness of their former monarch at Seville. Officers, who had signalized their abilities in the councils and the campaigns of a generation, abandoned with disgust the cares of government to the incompetent and low-born sycophants who swarmed around the throne. In no mosque of Andalusia was the khotba repeated in the name of Yahya; that expressive mark of sovereignty was still enjoyed by Kasim, or by some representative of the uncertain and fast-vanishing dignity of the royal race of the Ommeyades.

Thus restricted to the walls of Cordova, whose population regarded his conduct with unconcealed disfavor, Yahya soon began to appreciate the threatening character of the perils that environed him. Convinced of his inability to defend himself in case of attack, he retired to Malaga, accompanied by a retinue little superior in numbers to that with which his uncle had abandoned his capital but a few months before.

The return of Kasim was the signal for fresh conspiracies and renewed disorder. In the conflict of interests the two factions which had accomplished his expulsion were again arrayed against him, and the force of negro slaves, whose duplicity had so signally disappointed his expectations, constituted the sole and precarious bulwark of the throne. A report, perhaps well founded, gained credence in Cordova that another descendant of Abd-al-Rahman would soon lay claim to his hereditary and usurped prerogatives. When the rumor of this movement reached the court, Kasim adopted the most radical measures for the prevention of a new revolution. An indiscriminate proscription was inaugurated against the Ommeyades. The uncertainty of the candidate for regal honors, whose pretensions were to be exhibited for the approval of the people, stimulated the animosity and increased the vigilance of the authorities. The members of the proscribed dynasty fled precipitately from the capital. Of those arrested, many were summarily executed. Others were cast into filthy dungeons to perish slowly by disease and hunger. Princes bred in luxury were compelled to assume the most humble disguises and to adopt the most menial occupations to avoid arrest. The indefatigable search of the emissaries of the Khalif, aided by the venal malice of informers, caused the seizure of a considerable number of the obnoxious faction, who had found a temporary asylum in the villages and farm-houses of the surrounding country. These rigorous precautions failed, however, to intimidate the seditious and exasperated populace. An insurrection suddenly broke out. Oppressed by the tyranny of the government and the increasing license of the soldiery, the citizens, animated by irresistible fury, drove the Khalif, the negro slaves, and the Berbers headlong from the city. The capital was now invested by those who had recently been its masters. Though unprovided with facilities indispensable to the successful maintenance of a siege, they more than once managed to force their way inside the fortifications. The citizens, aware that no quarter was to be expected from their infuriated enemies, defended themselves with the valor of desperation. The gates were walled up with masonry. The ramparts were guarded with ceaseless vigilance. Women and children contributed their puny but encouraging assistance to the almost superhuman efforts of their husbands and fathers. Hunger, exposure, suffering, were endured by all with uncomplaining fortitude. At length the failure of provisions necessitated a compromise. Overtures were made by the besieged for a peaceful evacuation. The Berbers, certain of their prey and meditating a bloody revenge, refused to entertain any proposals from a foe reduced to extremity. Then a sally was made, and the besiegers, unable to withstand the impetuous attack of the Cordovans, sustained a crushing defeat. Their army was scattered; the negroes were slaughtered; the surviving Berbers betook themselves to Malaga, where they entered the service of Yahya; and Kasim, repulsed from the gates of Seville, in which city he had hoped once more to find security, made his way to Xeres, where he soon afterwards fell into the hands of his nephew, and was by his order strangled in prison.

Liberated from the detested presence of the Berbers after an interregnum of two months, the inhabitants of Cordova determined to exercise the right of election in the choice of a ruler, an ancient and integral but long suspended principle of their polity. A vast concourse was convoked in the spacious temple erected by Abd-al-Rahman I. The proceedings were conducted with every circumstance of pomp and solemnity. The presence of the surviving princes of the House of Ommeyah, of the descendants of families illustrious for centuries in the annals of the Peninsula, of nobles who traced their lineage beyond the Hegira, all arrayed in silken vestments embroidered with gold and silver, imparted an air of majesty and splendor to the scene. Thousands of the clients of the dynasty, whose fate had been so closely interwoven with that of the capital it had done so much to embellish, attended in the snowy robes which constituted the distinguishing badge of their party. The Mosque, which easily contained ten thousand people, was crowded to its utmost capacity. Three candidates—Abd-al-Rahman, brother of Mohammed Mahdi; Suleyman, son of Abd-al-Rahman IV.; and Mohammed-Ibn-al-Iraki—appeared to solicit the suffrages of the multitude. Of these, Suleyman, whose claims were urged by the viziers and by the most powerful nobles of the court, seemed so certain of success that, with ill-advised haste, he appeared in the assemblage clad in the costume reserved for royalty, while his adherents had prematurely caused the deed of investiture to be drawn up in his name. But the votes of the lower classes, with whom Abd-al-Rahman was the favorite, overwhelmed the aristocratic party of Suleyman, and, amidst the acclamations of his supporters, the fortunate candidate received the reluctant homage of his rivals, and was raised to the throne of his ancestors under the name of Abd-al-Rahman V.

The reign of the new Khalif lasted only forty-seven days. His elevation was displeasing to the old nobility. His orthodoxy was suspected. The irreverent speeches of his companions were heard with disgust by the theologians and the ministers of religion, who, perhaps not unjustly, thought that infidel and sacrilegious sentiments should not be encouraged in the presence of the Successor of the Prophet. The predilection of the young prince for the society of poets and scholars was a source of complaint to the populace, including many thousand unemployed mechanics and laborers, who had been impoverished by the unsettled condition of society, who had in vain solicited relief from each successive administration, and who, exasperated by repeated disappointments, were ready for any desperate undertaking. The habitual discontent of this numerous class was diligently encouraged by Mohammed, a degenerate grandson of the great Al-Nassir, who united the tastes of an aristocrat with the arts of a demagogue. By the mediation of Ibn-Imran, a noble who had been imprisoned for sedition and imprudently released, a combination of the two most antagonistic elements of Moslem society was accomplished; and disappointed ambition induced the haughty patrician to co-operate with the laborer and the slave who, with the jealousy born of degradation and poverty, had always regarded the members of the ancient Arab nobility as their natural and implacable enemies. When the conspiracy was matured, the guards, who had been corrupted, were withdrawn; the ministers quietly deserted their master; the revolutionists occupied the citadel; and Abd-al-Rahman, dragged ignominiously from an oven where he had hastily sought concealment, was put to death without ceremony or delay. The palace was then sacked by the mob; every individual related by blood or affinity to the Berbers was butchered; the seraglio of the late Khalif was apportioned among the leaders of the triumphant faction; and Mohammed, surrounded with the sanguinary evidences of victory and with the corpse of his predecessor lying before him, took his seat upon the throne.

The unnatural union of the patricians and the mob was dissolved as soon as its object had been attained. The former despised Mohammed, whom they had used solely as an instrument of vengeance, and at once begun to plot his overthrow. Ina few months another insurrection vacated the royal office. Mohammed escaped in a female disguise, only to be poisoned by one of his followers. The African, Yahya, who ruled the city of Malaga, was invited to assume the hazardous and unprofitable honor attaching to the empty title of khalif and the precarious sovereignty of Cordova. That prince, knowing by experience the character of those who tendered him a crown, and the desperation which must have prompted that act when the prejudice against his nationality was considered, while not unwilling to include Cordova in his dominions, yet hesitated to intrust his person to a people whose reputation for disorder and perfidy had gained for it such an infamous and wide-spread notoriety. He therefore delegated his authority to a Berber officer, who, to the consternation and disgust of the inhabitants, took up his abode in the Alcazar, with the title and the powers of viceroy.

The old feeling against the Africans was soon revived. A new conspiracy solicited the interference of Khairan, whose advancing years apparently offered no impediment to his participation in treasonable or revolutionary enterprises, and, with the aid of Modjehid, governor of Denia, he easily drove the Berbers from Cordova. But, as each party feared the other, no agreement could be effected concerning the succession, and the Cordovans were again left to extricate themselves as best they might from the difficulties which misgovernment and license had brought upon them. Once more an attempt was made to restore the Ommeyades, and the crown was offered to a brother of Abd-al-Rahman IV., called Hischem, a name of inauspicious associations, and fated to designate the last of that renowned dynasty of Moorish kings.

Already in the decline of life, of moderate abilities, and for years accustomed to the hardships of poverty and exile, Hischem III. possessed none of those qualities which inspire the respect of the noble and the learned or arouse the enthusiasm of the giddy and inconstant populace. His person was without dignity. His manners were those of a clown. His education had been neglected. Long familiarity with hunger had made him insensible to all enjoyments save those afforded by the indulgence of inordinate gluttony. Although he was welcomed by the inhabitants of Cordova with every demonstration of affection and rejoicing, he constantly maintained a reserved and stolid demeanor which as ill became his station and prospective greatness as did the simplicity of his attire and smallness of his retinue, neither of which was commensurate with the rank of even a prosperous citizen. Upon a people who had not forgotten the majesty of the ancient khalifate and the lavish display of regal magnificence exhibited by its princes, the plebeian appearance and insignificant equipage of this successor of the famous Abd-al-Rahman III. produced a feeling of disappointment not unmingled with contempt. Nor did the subsequent conduct of Hischem III. tend to remove the unfavorable impressions which his first appearance elicited. His voracity and his indolence made him a conspicuous target for the sarcastic wits of the capital. His practical surrender of the power and emoluments of his office to his prime minister, Hakem-Ibn-Said, whose former respectable but humble occupation of weaver seemed a doubtful qualification for important employments of state, provoked the envy and indignation of the arrogant and highly accomplished Arab nobility. The arbitrary measures devised by Hakem to replenish the treasury soon increased the unpopularity which his obscure origin and his unexpected exaltation inspired. He confiscated and sold at auction the jewels and other personal effects of the wealthy Amirides, who, belonging to the weakest political faction of Andalusia, could be oppressed and robbed with comparative impunity. These descendants of the renowned Al-Mansur were also forced to purchase for an enormous sum the metal collected from the royal palaces, whose destruction was popularly attributed to the ambition or the vengeance of the adherents of that family of daring adventurers. Amidst the maledictions and unavailing remonstrances of the clergy, the sanctity of the mosques was again profaned, and the treasures accumulated through the generosity of the pious compelled to contribute to the imperious necessities of the state. The diminution of their revenues exasperated the ministers of religion far more than the sacrilegious interference with their authority and the appropriation of the precious utensils of divine worship. But the theological element had long since, by its avarice, its hypocrisy, and its inclination to political disorder, forfeited the respect of the people of Cordova, where once the ravings of a popular faqui could awaken the apprehensions of the most powerful of sovereigns. While Hakem had little to fear from the hostility of this class, the conduct of the patricians caused him no little anxiety. All attempts to conciliate them proved ineffectual. They scorned his advances. They refused with disdain honorable and lucrative employments. The most magnificent presents failed to gain their friendship or even to secure their neutrality. Thus, repulsed by those whose support he had hoped to acquire, the minister was driven to the inferior orders for the selection of his generals and his magistrates. Every official now shared the odium attaching to his superior. The prejudices thus entertained by the most illustrious and influential order of the empire against the government could not long exist without consequences fatal to its stability.

To insure the continuance of his authority, the astute vizier, who no doubt drew a parallel between his own case and that of the talented and unscrupulous hajib of Hischem II., gratified with all the resources of boundless wealth and unlimited power the sensual caprices and epicurean tastes of his aged and dissolute sovereign. The provinces were ransacked for delicacies to tempt his palate. Such dainties as were unattainable in his own dominions were procured in foreign countries through the medium of enterprising merchants. The choicest wines of Spain, even then famous for the variety and excellence of its vintage, were consumed at the royal table in quantities which appalled the orthodox Mussulman, and struck with amazement the more liberal courtier, who was familiar with the scandalous excesses of preceding reigns. Professional singers and dancers, of exquisite beauty and rare accomplishments, solaced the leisure of the representative of a religion which pronounced their performances an abomination in the sight of God. The attendants of the Khalif were instructed to employ every artifice to retain the latter in seclusion; but the congenial character of the diversions with which the politic ingenuity of the minister daily amused him afforded little probability of his interference with the ambitious designs of one whose anticipation of the desires of his master, in his eyes, more than atoned for the evils resulting from the public misfortune.

But the character of Hischem, while weak, was far from despicable. At times, despite the blandishments of the inmates of his harem, he came forth from his retirement and mingled with the people. He dispensed with liberal and indiscriminating hand the alms whose bestowal is one of the cardinal virtues of the faith of Islam. He visited the hospitals and brought hope and consolation to the couch of the sick and the dying. His generosity relieved the necessities of impecunious pilgrims. The kindness and urbanity he manifested, even to the most degraded, acquired for him the respect and esteem of his subjects. Many a malefactor condemned to an inglorious death had reason to applaud his noble but often mistaken clemency. These estimable qualities, however, could not, in the eyes of the indignant aristocracy, compensate for the habitual neglect of public duty displayed by the Khalif, nor for his complacent resignation of the destinies of the empire into the hands of a low-born subordinate, whose creatures monopolized the highest employments and exacted the unwilling homage of cavaliers whose lineage antedated the Conquest by centuries. A number of nobles, whose influence had been secretly but effectively exerted during the recent disturbances, again met for consultation. The deposition of Hischem was resolved upon, and it was also determined that they themselves should hereafter be the sole depositaries of power. The method they pursued to accomplish their end affords a significant illustration of the low standard of public morals which at that time universally prevailed. It must be remembered that these men were no vulgar conspirators. Of the distinctions conferred by birth, education, political experience, and military renown none possessed a larger share. They belonged to the most haughty and exclusive of the patricians. Their blood had never been contaminated by degrading alliances with African, Jew, or Spaniard. Aside from the losses incurred through enforced contributions, their wealth had not been sensibly impaired by the destructive accidents of revolution and civil war. Their attainments would have been respectable even when Cordova was the most enlightened community in Europe, and now, in its age of degeneracy, few indeed could be found to rival them in acuteness and erudition. Some were descended from a line of courtiers for generations employed in the diplomatic service of the khalifate. Others had exercised their military talents against the Christian chivalry on the frontiers of Aragon and Catalonia. A few theologians were to be found among them whose religious principles had not escaped the vicious contagion of the age, and with whom questions of casuistry were invariably subordinated to the alluring claims of pecuniary interest and worldly ambition. It would naturally be presumed that men of this character would be solicitous to maintain a high standard of personal honor and political integrity. But constant familiarity with treason in its most repulsive forms; with the organized hypocrisy that permeated every department of the government and every rank of society; with the savage tyranny of princes, who themselves did not hesitate to assume the hateful office of executioner; with the deliberate malice of assassins, who without compunction thrust the dagger into the vitals of their unsuspecting friends; with the irreconcilable enmities of the nearest kindred; with the spirit of anarchy ripe among the masses, had produced such complete demoralization that no caste or individual was uncontaminated by its pernicious influence. The association of nobles, above alluded to, had organized itself into a semi-official body under the designation of the Council of State. At its head was Ibn-Djahwar, a statesman of great talents, of large experience, of exquisite tact, of indefatigable energy. The antagonism between this powerful junta and the minister became each day more bitter, as each endeavored, with industrious malignity, to subvert the authority of the other. The influence of his favorite was paramount with the Khalif, but the Khalif was a cipher. The nobles possessed the sympathy of their order and the deferential admiration of the masses, who always looked to the aristocracy for advice and leadership. They artfully stimulated the discontent of the people, already sufficiently grievous, by representing the public distress and the decline of commercial prosperity—legitimate results of a long series of national misfortunes—as the work of the obnoxious hajib. They aroused the feeling against the Berbers, some of whom Hakem had intrusted with important employments. Then, with an ingenious refinement of treachery, they engaged a young adventurer named Ommeya, a collateral descendant of the dynasty of Cordova, to head a revolution with the hope of ascending the throne. Every facility was afforded him by his shrewd but perfidious allies. They secretly distributed emissaries through every quarter of the capital and the provinces. They contributed gold with profuse liberality. The officers of the army were corrupted by bribery and by promises of promotion. At length the long-expected signal was given. The mob rose and killed the minister as he issued from the palace. The venerable Khalif was seized and confined in his apartments while the nobles assembled to determine his fate. Ommeya, wholly unconscious of the duplicity of which he was the victim, had already began to arrogate to himself the prerogatives of imperial power by the issuing of commands, the appointment of officials, and the distribution of rewards. The members of the Council of State, attended by an armed escort, now appeared upon the scene. With a solemnity that awed the multitude, they declared the khalifate abolished, and assumed, by virtue of their self-established dignity, the responsibilities of government and the supreme direction of affairs. In a proclamation addressed to the inhabitants of Andalusia, they recounted the calamities which had ensued from the broken and disordered succession of the empire; the repeated disappointments resulting from the elevation of incompetent and dissolute pretenders; the insecurity of the present and the uncertainty of the future which paralyzed all branches of commerce and industry; the absolute hopelessness of improvement under the worthless princes of a decrepit and unstable dynasty. With modesty and firmness they enumerated their own qualifications for the discharge of the functions they had usurped. They promised the maintenance of order, the regulation of police, the removal of the burdens imposed by immoderate and arbitrary taxation. They pledged themselves to the faithful execution of the laws. The well-known and eminent character of the nobles composing the Council of State procured for their statements a respectful hearing, and their power, long exercised in an advisory capacity, had prepared the way for the unreserved assumption of authority. Without either remonstrance or enthusiasm, the inhabitants of a considerable portion of the Peninsula transferred their alliance from a line of monarchs, rendered illustrious by the glorious traditions of nearly three centuries, to the irresponsible members of a precarious and self-constituted oligarchy.

The dupe of the conspirators, Ommeya, who with mingled rage and terror had seen his delusive hopes of empire vanish in an instant, was forcibly expelled from the city. His part having been played, and his insignificance rendering him unworthy of further attention, he remained at liberty, until, having tried to secretly enter the capital, he was arrested, and his disappearance from that moment was attributed, not without probability, to the sanguinary precautions of the Council of State.

Hischem was condemned to imprisonment for life in an isolated fortress of the Sierra Ronda. The negligence or the corruption of the guard, however, enabled him to escape after a few months’ detention, and he passed the five remaining years of his existence in the city of Lerida, a dependency of the princely family of Ibn-Hud, Emirs of Saragossa.

With Hischem III. finally disappeared the dynasty which had ruled, for the most part with phenomenal success and splendor, the powerful empire of Moorish Spain. In the space of two hundred and sixty-seven years, fourteen khalifs of the House of Ommeyah had guided the destinies of that empire. Of these princes, six pre-eminent in executive ability, in intellectual culture, in military genius, in political sagacity, had ascended, one after another, to the foremost rank among the great sovereigns of the earth. They had founded magnificent cities. They had erected palaces, whose crumbling ruins suggest the creations of the genii. They had collected vast libraries. Their commercial establishments were to be found among the most remote nations. The prowess of their captains had been recognized on the banks of the Rhone, on the plains of Lombardy, in the provinces of the Atlas, in the islands of the Mediterranean. Their munificence and culture had made the imperial city of the Guadalquivir a shrine of literary pilgrimage. In that city the aristocracy of intellect was even more esteemed than nobility of descent. Its possessors were the companions, the favorites, the councillors of kings. In singular contrast to the prejudices of subsequent ages, the edifices of religion were made subservient to the interests of science, and the minarets of mosques were furnished with astronomical apparatus. In the ability to erect stupendous monuments of mechanical and agricultural industry, in the perfection of hydraulic engineering, in the skilful employment of the principles of fortification, the subjects of these polished rulers were the superiors of any of the nations of antiquity. In such of the arts as were not proscribed by the doctrines of their religion, they produced models of unapproachable excellence. And, while these great advances in civilization were being made under the auspices of Islam, the European world was plunged in the darkness of barbarism and superstition. Of the great capitals of Europe, to-day the renowned seats of art and learning, London and Paris were the only ones whose population was sufficiently numerous to raise them to the dignity of cities. Within their precincts the most ordinary conveniences of life were practically unknown. The intercourse of the people was dominated by the brutal instincts of savage life; property was at the mercy of the strongest; and society was conjointly ruled by the sword of the baron and the crucifix of the monk. The vicious tendencies of the Moslem system; the participation of barbarians in a government whose mechanism they had neither the capacity to understand nor the judgment to direct; the corruption of public morals, inevitable in a state which has reached the highest degree of civilization attainable under its institutions; the gradual relaxation and final rupture of the ties of allegiance which bind the subject to the sovereign; the decrepitude of a nation which, in obedience to the inexorable necessity resulting from its political and social conditions, had completed its existence and fulfilled its destiny in the history of the world, had undermined the foundations and demolished the imposing fabric of the Ommeyade empire. The time had long since passed when the magic of a name, whose owners had accomplished so much for the cause of human progress, had ennobled the pursuits of learning and assumed the patronage of art,—a name almost synonymous with national prosperity and regal grandeur,—could inspire the respect of foreign nations or arouse the dormant enthusiasm of the multitude. No member of that dynasty, however talented, could now have restored the monarchy of his ancestors, whose reminiscences, for centuries refused the sanction of history among Christian nations and imperfectly preserved even by Arab authors, were destined to be largely transmitted to future ages through the suspicious medium of romantic and exaggerated tradition.

The relation of Moorish affairs in the Peninsula becomes henceforth necessarily desultory and disconnected. The authority, once central at Cordova, was distributed among a hundred states, whose rulers, mutually hostile and aspiring to individual supremacy, constantly enlisted Christian auxiliaries in a struggle which must eventually terminate in the contraction of their dominions, the impairment of their sovereignty, and the destruction of their faith. The blessings of peace, the preservation of order, were forgotten in a fierce contest for power inspired by revenge and ambition. Prejudices of race and religion, engendered by ages of unremitting hostility, were discarded by unnatural coalitions of Moslem usurpers and Castilian adventurers, whose only bond of alliance was a community of spoliation and infamy. The intrigues of one faction planted the banners of the Cross on the shores of the Mediterranean. The blind animosity of another permitted the desecration of the noblest monument of Moslem piety. Professed disciples of the religion of Mohammed saw with complacent indifference the horses of Christian knights tethered to the columns of the mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, while the sanctuary, which still contained the sacred Koran of the Khalif Othman, resounded with the clanking tread of the curious and scoffing infidel.

The disintegrated sections of the empire were now to witness the trial of a form of government hitherto unknown to the Moslem constitution. The very essence of the polity of Islam had always been the concentration of power in a single individual, who exercised conjointly the functions appertaining to the official head of both Church and State. The assumption of authority by an association of nobles, while the result of political necessity, was none the less an act of flagrant usurpation. It was repugnant to the principles, the traditions, the legal and religious maxims upon which the organization of Moslem society was based, and by which it had always been maintained. It had not received the sanction of popular approbation or consent. The dethronement of Hischem was an arbitrary deed of violence unconfirmed by any evidence of voluntary abdication. As there had been no formal renunciation of vested rights, those rights were only suspended, and the subjects of the Khalif were not, in law, absolved from their allegiance.

The constitution of the Council of State, whose jurisdiction extended but a short distance beyond the walls of Cordova, was partly oligarchical and partly democratic. A formal assemblage of citizens conferred upon Ibn-Djahwar, the most prominent member of that body, an office whose powers and privileges appertained to the anomalous dignity of the autocratic supreme magistrate of a republic. The course of Ibn-Djahwar was characterized by the greatest moderation and justice. Unlike the Cæsars of Rome, whose despotic edicts were registered by an obsequious senate, the president of the Moorish Council of State refused, of his own volition, to decide or even to examine any question until it had been publicly presented to his associates, and he required that all official communications should be addressed to them. This habitual deference to the opinions of his colleagues, which, however, invariably coincided with his own, increased the consideration in which he was held by the nobility, the army, the clergy, and the people. The new magistrate, in addition to the eminent qualifications which both suggested and justified his promotion, was aided by many adventitious circumstances which rarely fail to elicit the admiration or the homage of mankind. He belonged to a family of ancient and distinguished lineage. His ancestors had served the khalifs in the departments of finance and war. He was the most opulent citizen of the capital, and had managed, by an exercise of thrift and economy unusual in his station, to make vast accumulations to his wealth without ever incurring the suspicion of corruption or tyranny. The measures he adopted for the public welfare were dictated by the most exemplary prudence and wisdom. Taxes were reduced. Mercantile enterprise was promoted by the assurance of public security, derived from the protection of the highways and the repression of crime. Intimate commercial relations were established between Cordova and the other principalities of Andalusia, resulting in the interchange of commodities and the extension of trade. With a prudent regard for future contingencies, he provisioned the principal cities and forts under his jurisdiction. The magazines of the capital alone contained supplies for the entire population of the kingdom for many months. Important reforms were instituted in the army. The Berbers, ever an element of discord, were disbanded. Such as had been notorious for their atrocities were exiled. Their places were filled by a volunteer soldiery, which, in its general character, corresponded to our militia, and in whose organization the sentiments or the prejudices of no single faction were allowed to predominate. One division of this force, commanded by an officer of experience and ability, was made responsible for the peace of the city. The most distinguished citizens were enrolled in the guard of public safety, and by turns patrolled the streets. Public business was transacted with no more ceremony than was required to make it impressive by commanding respect. The numerous throng of parasites and dependents usually considered an indispensable appendage to the royal dignity no longer encumbered the antechambers of the palace. The formerly lucrative profession of informer, patronized by even the greatest khalifs as a precaution against treason, became deservedly infamous. The judicial tribunals were organized in the interests of equity. Competent advocates, who received compensation from the public treasury, were appointed to prosecute the causes of such as were too poor to employ counsel. Immigration was encouraged, and a considerable portion of the capital which had been demolished during the civil wars was rebuilt by the colonists, who, weary of perpetual strife, sought the protection of a new government which seemed to offer to its subjects the fairest hopes of peace and tranquillity. The administration of the finances was conducted in accordance with the strictest principles of economy, and officials charged with the collection of taxes were compelled to render accounts at stated times, and were held responsible, under heavy penalties, for the performance of their duties. The extraordinary and illegal burdens which had been imposed upon the mosques were abolished, and the clergy once more entered upon the enjoyment of the revenues of which they had been arbitrarily deprived. The disorders of the times had raised up a great number of impostors,—half physicians, half sorcerers,—who, to the great detriment of medical science and of the public health, plied their trade, sustained by the ignorance and credulity of the populace, ever easily deluded by the arts of charlatans. These were prosecuted by the government for magic, and to provide against a recurrence of the evil a college of physicians was organized, who passed upon the knowledge and the qualifications of every future practitioner. Such were the reforms effected by the prudence and the sagacity of Ibn-Djahwar. Although they produced for a time a semblance of prosperity, this was delusive and rather apparent than real. The calamities which had, almost without intermission, afflicted Cordova for a quarter of a century had forever degraded her from the proud rank of imperial cities. Her inhabitants had been massacred. Her wealth had been dispersed. Her trade had been destroyed. The literary prestige which had exalted her name far above even those of the polished capitals of the Moslem empire of the East had been swept away amidst the turmoil of barbarian supremacy. Henceforth the political eminence which she had once enjoyed was to be transferred to the cities of Toledo, Saragossa, Almeria, Badajoz, Seville, and Granada.

The policy of the early khalifs, who thoroughly appreciated the dangerous character of their African allies, had established the Berber hordes on the northern and western frontiers of their dominions, and as far as possible from their capital. The incessant warfare maintained by the Christians, as had been foreseen, so occupied these barbarians that their attention was diverted from the provinces of the South by the circumstances of their location, and the consequent demand for unremitting vigilance required by the proximity of an audacious and persevering enemy. The loyalty of the governors of this territory, whose capital was Saragossa, had never been above suspicion. The propensity of the Africans to rebellion was habitually indulged by their chieftains, who carried into the distant North the licentious independence of the Desert. During the existence of the khalifate, the Emirs of Saragossa conceded to the Ommeyade princes the doubtful allegiance of tributary vassals rather than the implicit obedience of faithful subjects. Their martial instincts, their predatory inclinations, and their constant familiarity with danger made them a race of formidable and experienced warriors. The family of Ibn-Hud, whose most distinguished ancestor was appointed governor of the frontier by the Khalif Abdallah, was the founder of the dynasty which raised Saragossa to great political influence among the independent estates of Moorish Spain. By political alliances with its Christian neighbors, it long preserved the integrity of its domain. It encouraged agriculture, commerce, manufactures. It patronized the arts. The portal of the palace mosque, still intact, conveys an idea of the barbaric extravagance of its architecture. Its princes were far from considering the pursuits of science as incompatible with regal dignity. One composed a work on mathematics. Another delighted to pass the hours of darkness in the study of the heavens. It was a singular destiny which had transformed the seat of these ferocious nomads—as a rule so insensible to extraneous influences—into one of the centres of Moslem civilization.

The fortunate experiment of Cordova in abolishing the empire—a measure which resulted in the restoration of peace—was imitated by Seville, a city which in population, opulence, and commercial resources had always been a powerful rival of the capital, and was now destined to assume a pre-eminent rank among the ephemeral dynasties of the Peninsula.

The expulsion of Kasim by the infuriated mob of Cordova was followed by his exclusion from the territory of Seville. Popular indignation had been aroused by a tyrannical order requiring that a thousand houses should forthwith be vacated by the citizens for the accommodation of his African followers. A garrison of Berbers had already exasperated the inhabitants by its repeated acts of insolence and cruelty. The prospect of an army of privileged banditti being quartered in their homes, an occupancy which was equivalent to absolute confiscation, drove the people of Seville to revolt. Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, the Kadi, and other representatives of the malcontents by promises of military promotion and pecuniary rewards easily induced the Berber governor to renounce the service of a master whom fortune seemed about to abandon. The gates were closed in the very face of the Emir. The walls were occupied by thousands of armed citizens prepared to defend, at all hazards, their newly obtained liberty. Kasim, after stipulating for the delivery of his treasures and the restoration of his sons who happened to be at that time in the city, consented to retire forever from the scenes of his former power. His rear-guard had scarcely been lost sight of from the battlements before the Berber garrison was notified to depart, and, relieved from apprehensions of hostile interference, the Sevillians proceeded without delay to the task of political reorganization.

By the unanimous voice of the multitude, prompted by the nobles, who, nevertheless, regarded his wealth with envy and his popularity with disdain, the Kadi was offered the supreme magistracy. The character of this personage, whose descendants played a prominent part in the subsequent events of Andalusia, was a singular compound of executive ability, profound dissimulation, and insatiable avarice. Unlike the aristocratic ruler of Cordova, his origin was mean and plebeian. The eminent genius of his father Ismail, who attained to equal distinction in the widely different professions of arms, theology, and law, first attracted public notice to a family inconspicuous as yet except for the honorable principles and the plodding industry of its members. He had transmitted to his son a large share of his talents; but Abul-Kasim was deficient in those virtues which in a responsible station often compensate for the absence of distinguished abilities. His office of kadi, which he had secured by flattery and retained by treason, he valued only as a stepping-stone to absolute power. Aware that the tender of sovereignty was not a recognition of superior merit, but a shrewd artifice of the nobles by which, in case of the restoration of the House of Ibn-Hamud to the throne, their caste might contrive to escape and the wrath of the avenger be concentrated on the head of an individual whose obscure birth, dignified by immense possessions and ever-increasing influence, rendered him peculiarly obnoxious to the aristocratical order, Abul-Kasim declined the invidious distinction. When urged to reconsider his decision, he finally consented to accept, provided councillors of his own choice were associated with him in the administration. This having been readily conceded, he appointed several of the most prominent and haughty members of the Sevillian nobility, whose protection might be secured or their treasonable complicity established in the event of a counter-revolution, together with a number of his own dependents, who had little to recommend them but a talent for intrigue and a blind devotion to the interests of their patron.

The first efforts of Abul-Kasim were directed to the establishment of a military force. For the first time since the Conquest, Seville was left absolutely destitute of the ordinary means of defence. With the expulsion of the Berbers, the last individual trained in the profession of arms had disappeared. The arsenal was well provided with military supplies, but neither the magistrate nor the people had the least practical knowledge of the equipment or the discipline indispensable for the effective organization of an army. The genius of Abul-Kasim was, however, not daunted by even apparently insuperable obstacles. He established recruiting stations in every settlement which acknowledged the jurisdiction of Seville. The tempting inducements offered—pay greatly exceeding that usually allowed the soldiers of the khalif and the assurance of unrestricted pillage—soon lured to his standard crowds of needy and rapacious adventurers. The exigencies of the occasion forbade a critical scrutiny of the nationality or the antecedents of these volunteers. Arabs, Berbers, Christians, and foreigners were enlisted without hesitation. In accordance with a well-established precedent, the slave-markets were ransacked and the warlike natives of Nubia and the Soudan purchased, and marshalled side by side with political refugees, escaped criminals, and the dregs of the Sevillian populace. The excesses of military license, long practised with impunity, had rendered the profession of a soldier highly unpopular and even disreputable, and few citizens of honorable connections and irreproachable character could now be induced to voluntarily incur the odium attaching to a class universally regarded as the scourge of society. By untiring diligence and lavish expenditure, Abul-Kasim finally succeeded in collecting a force of a few hundred men. No more significant indication of the decadence of the Moslem empire could be adduced than the fact that among a people renowned for martial ardor and long accustomed to warfare an army of sufficient strength to defend the most populous city of the Peninsula could not be raised even by bounties, by the hope of plunder, or by purchase.

The difficulties arising from the anomalous political condition of Seville were well known to the petty princes of the shattered khalifate. The prize which the rich and defenceless city offered to the ambition of an enterprising commander was too tempting to long remain secure. Yahya, the son of Ali, the Edrisite Khalif who had recently refused to trust his person among the perfidious inhabitants of Cordova after they had tendered him the government and who now ruled the principality of Malaga, suddenly appeared with a powerful Berber army before the walls of Seville. Resistance was impossible, and Yahya was informed that the city would acknowledge his pretensions if his soldiers were not permitted to enter the gates. This proposition he was not unwilling to accept, but demanded, as an indispensable preliminary, the delivery of hostages, to be selected from the families of the most prominent citizens and the nobility. When this condition was proposed, negotiations were at once suspended, for no one was prepared to incur the risk. The Berbers had never renounced their savage practices. They were not accustomed to observe the faith of treaties, even where their own interests were concerned. The massacre of captives and hostages was in perfect accordance with their sanguinary instincts, and a sudden caprice, or the fear of escape, might in an instant cause the annihilation of the flower of the Sevillian youth. In this trying emergency neither the patriotism nor the confidence of Abul-Kasim in his good fortune deserted him. He placed his own son in the hands of the Berber prince, and removed the apprehensions of his countrymen by convincing Yahya that this pledge was a sufficient warrant for the fidelity of the people. Relying on the authority vested in a nominal sovereign, the Kadi now seized the opportunity of delivering himself from his councillors, and they were, one after another, under various pretexts, dismissed from office. Animated by the hope of one day being able to assert his independence, he next devoted his energies to the acquisition of new territory and the consolidation of his power. The noble self-sacrifice he had exhibited in exposing his son to danger for the public welfare had raised his character in the estimation of every class of citizens. The nobility regarded him with undisguised gratitude and admiration. His popularity with the masses, now liberated from the insults of the soldiery, was unbounded. The faquis extolled the justice and generosity of a magistrate who had removed the tyrannical exactions imposed on their order. Secure of the devotion of the army, whose interests he was careful never to neglect, the Kadi, having formed an alliance with the governor of Carmona, began to make incursions into the dominions of the princes who surrounded him. He overran the province of Beja. He plundered the settlements on the sea-coast west of Cadiz. The son of the Emir of Badajoz was defeated by his troops and taken prisoner. He even menaced Cordova, and compelled Ibn-Djahwar and his colleagues to enlist Berber mercenaries for its defence. He projected an expedition against the Christians, which failed on account of the treachery of the Emir of Badajoz, who repaid the previous misfortune to his arms with an ambuscade, which inflicted serious injury on the forces of Abul-Kasim and caused his retreat.

Meanwhile, the isolated states and communities of the ancient khalifate were threatened with the recurrence of a deplorable political and social calamity. The depopulated provinces of Southern Spain, the incessant prevalence of hostility, the desire of sharing in the spoils of a country where their race had obtained incalculable wealth and absolute power, the insatiable thirst of military adventure, had produced, since the exaltation of the House of Ali, an enormous African immigration. The Berbers now swarmed in countless numbers over the plains to the south and west of the Sierra Morena, a region once considered the garden of Andalusia, and where their flocks still found a rich and abundant pasturage. Heretofore the allegiance of these unruly adventurers had been divided among a hundred petty chieftains, apparently incapable of harmony and united in nothing save an undying hatred of the indigenous population. Now, however, the case was altered. A national sentiment had arisen, which was soon confirmed by the inspiration of numbers, by the consciousness of strength, by the remembrance of injury, and by the hope of revenge. All eyes were turned towards Yahya, the ruler of Malaga, who, a Berber by descent and traditions, was also the representative of an African dynasty, and, for that reason, admirably qualified to be the leader of a national movement. The universal enthusiasm was artfully encouraged by the secret emissaries of the prince. The chieftains, with singular accord, surrendered their precarious authority. The passions of the barbarians were inflamed with the prospect of booty, and Yahya was publicly recognized as the head of the entire Berber party.

No such unanimity of thought and action had, before this time, ever been evinced by the turbulent and mutually jealous colonists from Africa. The alliances of the various tribes had always been of temporary duration, formed and maintained by necessity in the face of an enemy. At the conclusion of a campaign each clan resumed the unrestrained liberty and patriarchal independence incident to a pastoral life. But the present organization promised to be permanent, and was consequently fraught with danger. It augured ill for the prevalence of civilized institutions in Europe that the country which, even under the most adverse political conditions, had preserved in a large measure its intellectual superiority and its artistic excellence should become the prey of ruthless barbarians, who had already desolated its fairest provinces and levelled its most beautiful architectural monuments with the earth. The moment was a most favorable one for the realization of this ominous scheme of barbarian ambition. The people of the Moslem States of Spain were inflamed with sentiments of mutual suspicion and hatred. The two great cities of Cordova and Seville were experimenting with a novel and untried form of government. The only ally of the latter, the governor of Carmona, had recently been disposed of by the conquest of his territory and its annexation to the principality of Malaga. But one possibility existed of counteracting the impending ruin. Could a coalition of the parties hostile to Berber supremacy be formed, the destruction of all the beneficial results accomplished by the Ommeyade dynasty might be averted. This plan, however, despite its obvious necessity, seemed impracticable. The reciprocal enmity maintained by citizens of the various principalities was far more violent than the apprehension with which they regarded the possible restoration of African tyranny. Some had sustained, others had inflicted, unpardonable injuries upon their neighbors. In many instances the despised Christian had been called in to contribute to the humiliation of an execrated but too powerful adversary. By this means, so repugnant to the principles of a conscientious Moslem, the coveted vengeance had been secured. Fine estates had been laid waste. Families had been extirpated. Entire districts had been swept by conflagration. The sanctity of the harem, so dear to every Oriental, had been profaned by the cruel insults and shameless lubricity of the gigantic and repulsive barbarians of the North, and their blasphemous jests had echoed through the stately colonnades of Moslem temples, the desecration of whose hallowed precincts by infidels was, under the law of Islam, punishable with death.

The penetrating sagacity of Abul-Kasim had early foreseen the impending misfortune as well as the appropriate remedy. The method he pursued in the application of that remedy does great credit to his political ingenuity and administrative genius. It was apparent at a glance that he himself, as the head of a coalition, would not receive the support of even those whose property and liberties were in imminent peril. Prejudice against the obscurity of his birth, jealousy of his talents and his authority, fear of the consequences of his ambition, would prevent that general co-operation of all factions indispensable to success. He therefore resolved to avail himself of a threadbare artifice, which had already more than once been practised with surprising results by unscrupulous aspirants to power. He determined to again resurrect the unfortunate Hischem II., by the assistance of his name rescue the Peninsula from the threatened Berber domination, and, having consolidated its scattered fragments, to claim as his own reward the sovereignty of the restored khalifate. The fate of the royal puppet of Al-Mansur had never been absolutely ascertained. One account—probably the most correct one—declared that he had perished when Cordova was sacked by the Berbers. Another attributed his death to the relentless cruelty of the tyrant Suleyman. The tales of mendacious travellers, who declared that they had seen and conversed with him in Arabia and Palestine, were eagerly received and industriously circulated by the ignorant populace, powerfully influenced by every tale of wonder and mystery. The attachment of all classes to the memory of this degenerate monarch was extravagant and almost inexplicable. He was endowed with none of those splendid qualities which are commonly associated with the office of royalty. Retained for years in rigid seclusion and veiled whenever he appeared in public, his features and his demeanor were alike unfamiliar to his subjects. The selfish and unprincipled ambition of an aspiring minister had, by the application of every device of sensual pleasure, reduced a mind of more than ordinary parts to the verge of imbecility. Of the innumerable and brilliant achievements of his nominal reign not one could be even indirectly attributed to his personal influence or to his counsel. The lustre which illuminated the throne of Hischem II., whose victorious standards moved forward with unbroken success for almost a generation, was only the reflected glory of the hajib, Al-Mansur. But personal disadvantages and misfortune rather enhanced than diminished his popularity, which grew with the progress of time. Amidst the confusion and wide-spread disaster of foreign invasion and intestine conflict, the intellectual defects and abandoned vices of the last of the Ommeyades were forgotten. Only the military triumphs and domestic security of a period made illustrious under his auspices now appealed to the sympathy and the pride of the persecuted nobles, citizens, and peasantry. They remembered that during his reign, twice in every year for a quarter of a century, the Christian frontier had receded for many leagues before the irresistible impetus of the Moslem arms. They recalled with exultation that the trophies of the holiest of Spanish shrines had been suspended in the magnificent mosque of their capital. There existed still in the memory of the aged reminiscences of great military displays on the eve of a Holy War; of convoys guarding the rich spoils wrested from the infidel; of splendid embassies which proffered the friendship or the allegiance of distant kingdoms; of interminable processions of manacled and dejected captives; of the impressive chants which, publicly recited on the occasion of a triumph, attested the gratitude of the fanatical and the devout; of the deafening acclamations of assembled thousands. Repetitions of the romantic fables which purported to relate the wanderings and the distress of Hischem had invested these accounts with a plausibility which their manifold inconsistencies never merited. The impossibility of some, the obvious contradictions of others, the uncertain and suspicious origin of all, were overlooked. It was sufficient for the uncritical and excitable masses that a khalif whose reign had been identified with the most famous epoch of Moslem greatness might possibly be still alive. Under these circumstances, every ridiculous legend concerning his appearance and his occupations, every new tale of his condition and his movements, invented by imaginative foreigners, obtained the ready credence of persons whose education and whose knowledge of the world should have at once detected their absurdity.

In the city of Calatrava there had lived for several years a weaver of mats, who in age, mental characteristics, and personal appearance was said to bear an extraordinary resemblance to the missing Hischem. The birthplace and the antecedents of this individual, whose name was Khalaf—an appellation in itself suggestive from its similarity to the title of sovereignty—were unknown. His reticence on this point confirmed the rash assumption of his imperial descent, and the consideration with which he was regarded by his townsmen having aroused his ambition, he publicly declared his identity with the Ommeyade prince. The people, already half convinced, supported the imposture, which rested upon no tangible evidence whatever, and, in their enthusiasm, they even went so far as to declare their independence of their suzerain, the Emir of Toledo. On the appearance of the latter at the head of an army, however, the Calatravans repented of their indiscretion, promptly expelled the aspiring mat-maker, and, with many protestations of repentance, returned to their allegiance.

Intelligence of these events having been communicated to Abul-Kasim, he caused search to be made for the unsuccessful impostor. In due time his retreat was discovered, and he was conducted to Seville. There he was submitted to the inspection of the concubines and slaves of Hischem; their perplexity, their interest, or their fears prevailed over their penetration; and the illiterate and obscure mechanic was declared by those who were the best qualified to judge to be the undoubted descendant of a line of celebrated kings. This important preliminary having been accomplished, Abul-Kasim announced the alleged discovery of Hischem by letter to all of the princes and dignitaries of Moorish Spain. The result, while creditable to their patriotism and national pride, did little honor to the keenness of their wits or the accuracy of their perceptions. In Cordova alone the elation of the populace overcame the authority but not the discretion or the judgment of the magistrate; and Ibn-Djahwar, while he might condemn the propagation of a contemptible political fraud, was forced to recognize its utility in effecting a union of factions whose combined influence might prevent the destruction of organized government in the Peninsula and the consequent retardation of the social and intellectual progress of Europe. With the wildest demonstrations of joy, the inhabitants of the old Ommeyade capital evinced their loyalty to a dynasty whose princes they had so often adored and so often defied; the powers of the Council of State were popularly supposed to be merged into those of the empire; and Ibn-Djahwar and his aristocratic colleagues announced themselves the servants of the plebeian impostor, who held a mimic court in the palace of his master, the shrewd and intriguing Kadi of Seville. The example of Cordova was speedily followed by the states of Denia and the Balearic Isles, Tortosa, and Valencia.

Yahya, from his stronghold at Carmona, saw with wonder and dismay the establishment and progress of the formidable confederacy which had already thwarted his projects and threatened the speedy overthrow of his power. The intoxication to which he was habitually addicted caused him to neglect the precautions dictated by ordinary prudence. While overcome with wine he was lured into a nocturnal ambuscade and killed, with the larger portion of his command; and Ismail, the son of the Kadi, who had charge of the victorious detachment, returned to receive the congratulations of the people of Seville.

The death of Yahya was a fatal blow to the hopes of the Berber party. None of his family possessed, in an equal degree, talents for organization or the confidence of their followers, advantages which had so effectually promoted the fortunes of the deceased commander. His death was no sooner known than the Berbers disbanded, and with characteristic inconstancy returned to the tranquil pursuits of pastoral life. Even the integrity of his own dominions could no longer be maintained. His brother Edris was raised to the throne of Malaga, but Mohammed, a cousin of the latter, had already received the homage of the garrison of Algeziras; the Africans of the province began to show signs of insubordination, and Edris saw himself confronted at the outset of his reign with difficulties which already seemed to portend a disastrous termination of the projected Berber empire. The impatience of Abul-Kasim soon outstripped his discretion as well as his resources. He endeavored to secure for his puppet the prestige which would attach to his cause by the occupation of Cordova, but the authorities of that city peremptorily refused him admittance, and their temporary support of the false Hischem having, in their judgment, served its purpose, they formally renounced their allegiance to the impostor.

The centre of political disturbance in the Peninsula now shifts to the Mediterranean coast and to the eastern confines of Andalusia. Almeria had, since the dissolution of the khalifate, enjoyed, to a remarkable degree, immunity from the prevalent disorders. That city was the largest and the most opulent commercial emporium of the Spanish Mohammedans. So far from having been injured by the evils afflicting every other principality, she seemed to have profited by the misfortunes of her neighbors. Her governors had been neither conquered nor deposed, and her Emir still held the commission bestowed by a khalif. The insecurity of other ports had practically driven the commerce of the country to the protection of the mighty castle which commanded her harbor. She had experienced few of the political vicissitudes which had distracted the provinces of the North and West. While they had fallen under African or Jewish influence, she had retained all the traditions, the pride, and the exclusiveness of a community where the Arab element predominated. The nominal ruler was Zohair, a prince of mediocre talents and effeminate character; but the control of the government was substantially vested in the vizier, Ibn-Abbas, who united great literary accomplishments and executive ability with boundless avarice and a fertile genius for intrigue. He was one of the most learned of men. The elegance of his epistolary style was famous. He was a distinguished composer and improvisatore. His person was strikingly handsome. His family traced their origin to the Defenders of the Prophet. The vanity and presumption which he constantly displayed were as offensive as his talents and accomplishments were remarkable. His affluence and the state which he maintained in an era of national decadence convey some idea of the prodigal splendor exhibited by the Arab nobility in the prosperous days of the empire. His palace equalled in extent and in the magnificence of its appointments the most sumptuous abodes of royalty. The gardens with which it was surrounded recalled, by their profusion of rare and delicious flowers, the teeming wealth of tropical vegetation. Crowds of slaves ministered to the caprices of a haughty but indulgent master. Among the beauties of his harem were numbered five hundred singers, selected as much for loveliness of feature and symmetry of form as for their proficiency in the art of music. In one of the noblest apartments of this princely mansion was the library. It contained eighty thousand volumes, without including the separate and unbound manuscripts,—if these were considered the figure exceeded a hundred thousand. No room in the palace was furnished with more splendor and extravagance. The shelves were of aromatic woods inlaid with various precious materials, such as ivory, tortoise-shell, and mother-of-pearl. The ornamentation was of gold. Enamels glittered upon the walls. The floor was composed of great slabs of white marble. In this elegant retreat the vizier, with whom the love of literature was a passion, passed no inconsiderable portion of his time. The fortune which enabled him to maintain such regal luxury was estimated at the enormous sum of five hundred thousand ducats, equal to seven million dollars of our money.

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.

In the course of time his denunciations were reported to Motadhid. The latter caused to be prepared a bronze casket, in which were placed a number of pieces of gold that had been covered with a deadly volatile poison. As the pilgrims were leaving to join the annual caravan to Mecca, Motadhid caused one of them, in whom he could confide, to be brought before him, and gave him the casket.

“When thou hast entered the Holy City,” said he, “seek out the person whose name is inscribed hereon, and present this to him with my compliments. But be sure not to open the casket or evil will befall thee.”

On his arrival the messenger had little difficulty in finding the blind beggar, who was accustomed each day, before the Great Mosque, to revile the name and recount the crimes of his oppressor.

“Friend,” said the Andalusian, “behold a gift which our Lord the Prince of Seville hath charged me to deliver to you. Receive it with joy, for methinks it is of great value.”

The blind man took the casket and shook it. “By the beard of the Prophet, it contains gold!” he cried. “But why hath Motadhid sent me this, after having reduced me to poverty and driven me into exile?”

“I know not,” responded the other. “It may be a royal caprice; it may be the fruit of remorse. In any event, rejoice in thy good fortune.”

“Thanks for thy kindness, and do not fail to convey to the Prince the assurance of my appreciation of his generosity,” said the beggar, as he departed to grope his way through the street leading to the wretched lodging which public charity had bestowed upon him.

Opening the fatal casket, he poured the gold into his lap. He counted it, fondled it, embraced it, with all the rapture of one who long accustomed to abject poverty is suddenly raised to affluence.

But a few moments elapsed before the fumes of the poison produced their effect; a convulsive shudder racked his frame, and the victim of Motadhid’s hatred fell forward upon his treasure—a corpse.

The military operations of Motadhid were characterized by great energy and unusual success. At the very outset of his reign, he was attacked by a coalition of Berber princes. Marching towards the west, he desolated the territories of Modhaffer, Emir of Badajoz, the soul of the hostile league. In a battle which followed, Modhaffer sustained a decisive defeat, and a considerable number of the inhabitants of his capital were killed and captured. The son of Mohammed, Emir of Carmona, perished in this engagement, and his skull, duly bleached and labelled and embellished with gold and jewels, was deposited by the side of its grinning predecessors in the unique casket of the Prince of Seville. Peace was finally adjusted between these two petty sovereigns through the intervention of Ibn-Djahwar, ruler of Cordova, who, in these sanguinary struggles, although his sympathies were with the opponents of the Berbers, maintained a politic neutrality. His most formidable enemy disposed of, Motadhid attacked and conquered in detail the little states of Huelva, Silves, and Santa-Maria. The extreme South of the Peninsula was at that time in the hands of the Berbers. To such a commanding position had the principality of Seville now attained, that the African lords of Andalusia acknowledged the title and the supremacy of the false Hischem, and paid tribute to the government he pretended to control. The cupidity and ambition of Motadhid were aroused by the sight of this fertile domain lying at his very door. He determined to secure the prize by artifice, this method being more congenial to his politic genius than the expensive and uncertain result of an appeal to arms. The states of Ronda and Moron, the most important and accessible, he selected as the object of his first attempt. Relying upon the doubtful faith of his tributaries, and accompanied by only four attendants, he boldly placed himself in the power of the Berber chieftains. He was received with the greatest courtesy and kindness, and while he was being feasted at the palace, his followers, who had been selected for their acuteness and proficiency in all the arts of deception, mingled in disguise with the people and ascertained their sentiments towards the ruling powers. The information obtained was most favorable to the plans of Motadhid. Under a delusive appearance of contentment a wide-spread hatred of the African domination was found to exist; and, by a judicious distribution of the gold with which they were provided, his attendants experienced no difficulty in purchasing the support of a number of influential officials, through whose assistance, at the designated time, the strongholds of the two Berber sovereigns were to be betrayed. Amidst the repeated and prolonged festivities to which his visit had given rise, the ability of Motadhid to resist the intoxicating fumes of wine stood him in good stead among revellers whose convivial propensities and experience were fully equal to his own. In the midst of a prolonged debauch immediately preceding his intended departure, the crafty prince pretended to be overcome with sleep. As soon as his heavy breathing indicated loss of consciousness, his perfidious hosts began to discuss, deliberately and in whispers, the propriety of his assassination. The infamy of this proposal, sufficiently flagitious of itself, was increased by the fact that among the Berbers, as well as the Arabs, hospitality was regarded as the most noble of virtues, and the person of a guest who had eaten at the board of his entertainer was, for the time being, inviolably sacred. The few moral sensibilities originally possessed by the Berbers had, however, amidst the commotion of incessant conflict and through familiarity with the insidious artifices constantly employed by the mixed and demoralized population of the Peninsula, been effectually destroyed. According to the unscrupulous maxims of their policy universally entertained and constantly practised, considerations of present expediency far outweighed the obligations of social courtesy or the dictates of personal honor. The opportunity of delivering themselves at a single blow and without personal risk from the most powerful and implacable enemy of their race was too fortunate and unexpected to be sacrificed to a mere question of casuistry or sentiment by men long habituated to deeds of treachery and violence. Of all the assemblage only one, Moadh-Ibn-Abi-Corra, a youth of the most distinguished rank, had the principle and the courage to remonstrate. The indignant reproaches of their young companion, not yet sufficiently practised in duplicity and crime to overcome the impulses of a noble and generous nature, prevailed over the base resolve of the other princes, and realizing, in spite of their blunted faculties, the flagrant enormity of the project, they quietly abandoned it. While the discussion involving the fate of Motadhid was being conducted, the self-control of the latter was subjected to a far more severe strain than it had ever before been called upon to endure. His drowsiness had been assumed as a convenient ruse. By its means he had hoped to become acquainted with the prejudices and the designs of his turbulent vassals heedlessly betrayed in moments of conviviality. But he was entirely unprepared for the revelations which fell upon his astonished ears. Aware that the slightest indication of consciousness would only precipitate the blow, he maintained, with a simulated calmness incredible under the circumstances, the appearance of a profound slumber. Finally he arose and resumed his place at the banquet. Not a tremor of voice, not an agitation of muscle, disclosed the ordeal he had just undergone. His marvellous self-command easily imposed upon his unsuspecting hosts, who, partly from policy, partly from remorse, now overwhelmed with assiduous attentions the guest whom their deliberate malice had but a moment before been ready to consign to a violent death.

The prince took his departure amidst mutual expressions of esteem which, inspired by the profound dissimulation of both parties, seemed to promise the most amicable intercourse for the future between suzerain and vassal. The satisfaction of the Berbers was soon increased by the arrival of messengers from Motadhid charged with the delivery of costly and beautiful gifts as tokens of the appreciative friendship of their sovereign. Several months elapsed; assurances of amity continued to be reciprocally transmitted between the palaces of Seville and Ronda, until, by every plausible artifice, the unsuspicious Berbers were lulled into delusive security. Then the governors of Ronda, Moron, and Xeres were invited, with much ceremony, to partake of the hospitality of Motadhid. Their attendants increased the party to the number of sixty persons, splendidly mounted and equipped; and the gay cavalcade was welcomed at the gates of Seville with the cordial greetings of the prince and the acclamations of the people. Among Moslems the first courtesy extended to a guest is the offer of a bath. It therefore excited no suspicion among the Berber nobles when they were conducted—with the single exception of Moadh, who, in the momentary confusion, was, for the time, designedly separated from his companions—into a series of magnificent vaulted chambers, whose walls were encased with precious marbles, whose windows were formed of painted glass, and whose floors and ceilings sparkled with exquisite mosaics. In order to enjoy freedom from all restraint, their own slaves attended them. The intolerable and increasing heat caused the latter before long to attempt to open the door. They found it fastened; by dint of superhuman effort it was finally broken down, but behind it, as if by magic, had arisen a massive wall of masonry; egress was seen to be impossible; and the meditated treachery of the Africans was fearfully avenged. The next day sixty steaming corpses were taken out of the bath, whose apartments had been heated to a temperature far exceeding that ordinarily maintained in an oven. The power of the Berber faction was hopelessly impaired; a new terror invested the name of the sanguinary Motadhid; and an unusual number of grisly but precious and long-coveted trophies was deposited in the charnel-like caskets preserved among the treasures of the palace.

The anxiety and suspicions of Moadh had been aroused by his evidently preconcerted separation from his friends. When their fate was announced to him, it required all the address and condescension Motadhid could command to soothe his grief and remove his apprehensions. His inestimable service to the prince during the banquet at Ronda was recalled, and he was informed that the reward of his noble championship of the laws of hospitality which had saved the life of his guest was at hand. A splendid mansion was set apart for him in the most aristocratic quarter of the city. As an earnest of his future generosity, Motadhid presented him at once with ten horses and an equal number of eunuchs, thirty beautiful girls, and a purse of a thousand dinars. Scarcely a day passed without revealing some new token of the attachment of his benefactor. His precocious abilities, no less than the favor of the monarch, procured for him the respectful admiration of the court. His opinion was heard with attention in the Divan. He was appointed to a high command in the army. The expenses of his household, which vied in magnificence with those of the most opulent nobles, were defrayed by an annual salary of twelve thousand pieces of gold. The partiality of Motadhid was further evinced by the frequent bestowal of costly presents, whose rarity and workmanship doubly enhanced their value. In the brilliant society of the Sevillian court no one was superior in rank, public estimation, or popular influence to the young and talented Berber chieftain.

The demoralization which followed the death of their leaders, aided by the corruption previously employed by Motadhid, gave him almost immediate possession of the Berber strongholds. Arcos, Xeres, and Moron surrendered without delay. The resistance of Ronda threatened to be serious on account of its natural strength and the predominance of the African population, but as soon as the troops of Motadhid appeared the citizens of the other races—Arab, Jew, and Christian—rose in rebellion; the Berbers were cut to pieces; the gates were thrown open; and the strongest fortress of Andalusia was added to the principality of Seville.

The news of the terrible fate of the Berber princes was heard with undisguised consternation by the King of Granada. His own unpopularity and the disaffection of his subjects were well known to him. The great number of Arabs and infidels in his dominions was an incessant menace to the stability of his throne, now rendered less secure than ever through the example of Ronda; and even the resource of habitual intoxication could not make him forget the catastrophe which, at that very moment, might be impending. Tortured by frightful suspicions, he determined to remove at one blow all the Arabs in the capital. For the accomplishment of this atrocious deed, he selected Friday, when the Moslems would be assembled at service in the mosque, the commission of such a sacrilege being a matter of indifference then compared with the greater crime. In vain the Vizier Samuel, to whom the design had been communicated, attempted to represent its folly. The King was inexorable. Then the Jew took measures to warn the chief personages of the Arab party. In consequence of this, on the appointed day, the great Moslem temple, usually crowded with worshippers, was almost deserted. It was evident that the bloody project had been betrayed, and the King, having become convinced of the dreadful evils it must inevitably produce, was finally prevailed upon to relinquish it.

Not long afterwards the wise counsellor, whose commanding abilities had almost caused the prejudice against his nation to be forgotten, died. His son, Joseph, a man of finished education and more than ordinary talents, inherited the honors but not the influence of his father. His haughty behavior, the magnificence of his dress, the number and pomp of his retinue, which equalled that of Badis himself, provoked the envy of all classes. Moslems and Jews alike were appalled by his blasphemous speeches. He was more than suspected of apostasy from the religion of Moses, and was so imprudent as to publicly hold up to derision the doctrines of the Koran. It was determined by the enemies of the young minister, whose power over the King was unbounded, to make his unpopularity the excuse for the plunder of the members of his sect, whose wealth had long excited the cupidity of the populace of Granada. In furtherance of this plan, the vilest calumnies were invented concerning him. Impossible crimes were attributed to the promptings of his malignity and injustice. He was accused of a secret understanding with the Prince of Almeria, an enemy of Badis; and the public mind having been inflamed by the publication of satirical poems which depicted in exaggerated terms the dishonesty and rapacity of the Jews, the detested vizier was finally seized in the royal palace by an infuriated mob and crucified. Four thousand unhappy Hebrews were involved in the ruin of their countryman, and paid the forfeit attaching to successful thrift and a proscribed nationality. Their palaces were occupied and their property appropriated by the assassins; and Jewish supremacy in a Mohammedan state, a condition heretofore without precedent in the history of Islam, was forever abolished in the Kingdom of Granada.

The designs of Motadhid had been accomplished by the acquisition of the greater part of Andalusia, and, as no further advantage could possibly accrue to his power by longer maintaining a fraud, he publicly announced the death of the pretended Hischem II. Whether this event, which under the circumstances was politically of little importance, was hastened by his own instrumentality is unknown. At all events the obsequies of the impostor were conducted with regal magnificence, and by a will he was alleged to have written was bequeathed to the hajib the once splendid legacy of the Ommeyade empire.

Fortune, which had hitherto so singularly favored the ambition of Motadhid, seemed now to avert her face from him. His eldest son, Ismail, twice rebelled against his authority, and, having attempted to storm the palace, was taken and died by the hand of his enraged and merciless father. Motamid, his second son, lost the city and state of Malaga, which he had captured, through his own negligence and the want of discipline prevailing among his troops, who were surprised and routed by the King of Granada.

The dominion of Abd-al-Aziz, Emir of Valencia, over Almeria was terminated in 1041 by the rebellion of his vassal, Abu-al-Ahwac-Man, of the tribe of Somadih. Under his son Motasim, the latter principality became famous throughout the Moslem world for the literary accomplishments of its sovereign and the intellectual culture and exquisite courtesy of its people. Motasim was an enthusiastic patron of the arts. His court was the resort of the learned of every land. There the science of the khalifate, expelled by barbarians, found a hospitable welcome. There the scholars of Granada, refugees from Berber tyranny, pursued their studies in peace. There the faquis of different sects discussed in amicable rivalry their doctrines in the presence of the throne. The monarch was the model of every princely virtue. He strove to revive the simple, patriarchal customs of the Desert. He dispensed justice with an impartial yet with a merciful hand. Like others of his race, he made poets the especial recipients of his bounty. Many of them obtained more than a provincial celebrity. Scarcely less honored and popular were the professors of science. Physicians, chemists, and natural philosophers occupy a high rank in the annals of his reign. Abu-Obeyd-Bekri, the most distinguished geographer of Moorish Spain, was a resident of Almeria.

The Christian states of the North, for fifty years torn by internal dissensions, were now united under the sceptre of Ferdinand. The kingdoms of Leon and Castile had been consolidated, and, the differences of the more insignificant principalities being adjusted, the attention of the Christians was again directed to the disunited and helpless members of the khalifate. From this time forth the war against the Moslem was destined to assume the character of a crusade, and hostilities to be seldom suspended until the last bulwark of Islam in the West had fallen and the Cross had been raised upon the towers of the Alhambra.

The progress made by Ferdinand soon disclosed the weakness of his adversaries. Badajoz, Lamego, and Visera fell before his arms. The Emir of Saragossa was forced to abandon all the towns beyond the Douro. The banners of the Castilian army were seen from the walls of Alcala de Henares, in the dominions of Mamun, Emir of Toledo. To preserve his cities from destruction, the latter consented to pay an incredible ransom of money and jewels, which impoverished his treasury, and, with the lords of Saragossa and Badajoz, at once acknowledged the suzerainty of the Christian king. The vanguard of the latter soon appeared in the territory of Seville, and the proud Motadhid, aware of the futility of resistance, sued for peace. It was granted in consideration of an enormous tribute and the delivery of the body of St. Justa, a martyr whose sacrifice was alleged to date as far back as the Roman domination. The bishops of Leon and Astorga were sent at the head of an imposing embassy to receive the relics of the saint. Unfortunately, these could not be identified, and the pious brethren, unwilling to return empty handed, by means of a miraculous vision discovered and obtained a far more valuable prize,—the body of St. Isidore, of Seville. Motadhid affected great sorrow at being compelled to part with such a treasure. With a view to future profit in the trade of similar commodities, he reverentially threw over the bier a magnificent robe of embroidered silk, and, much to the delight of the prelates, who saw with undisguised astonishment the salutary effect produced on the mind of an infidel by the mouldering bones of a Father of the Church, parted from the escort at the gate of the city with many simulated expressions of sorrow and a flood of hypocritical tears. Covering his face with his mantle, his voice choked with sobs, this interesting example of royal piety exclaimed, to the profound edification of the weeping bystanders: “Farewell, Isidore! Farewell, most holy man! Thou knowest what a close intimacy had always existed between us!”

With each year, with every season even, the Christian banners continued to move steadily southward. The resources of the divided Moslem empire could no longer oppose a concerted resistance to their advance. The most powerful Moorish princes of the Peninsula were already the tributaries of Ferdinand. Coimbra had been taken, and nearly all of what is included within the limits of modern Portugal was in his hands. Vast districts of the subjugated territory were systematically depopulated by enforced emigration. The inhabitants of the captured cities were in many instances also driven into exile, and where a prolonged resistance had exasperated the conquerors, the lands, the effects, and the seraglios of the wealthiest citizens were seized, often in infringement of the terms of capitulation. Establishing themselves in their new possessions, the rude cavaliers of Castile and the Asturias carried the boisterous manners and brutal tastes of the swineherd and the mountaineer into the splendid abodes of Moorish art and luxury.

The states of Valencia and Malaga, owing to the political imbecility of their rulers, had descended to a position greatly inferior to that to which they were entitled by reason of their commercial and agricultural resources. In the division of the khalifate, Valencia had been retained by Abd-al-Aziz, the grandson of Al-Mansur, who, during the subsequent disturbances, was the acknowledged head of the Amiride faction. Gifted with rare talents for administration and command, his indolence and love of pleasure counteracted these great natural advantages, and his son, Abd-al-Melik, who succeeded him, possessed all his indisposition to exertion, without his abilities. The city of Valencia, invested by Ferdinand, proved too strong for his efforts, but by a feigned retreat he lured the garrison and the citizens outside the walls and into an ambuscade. The delightful climate of that province, the garden of Andalusia, has never been propitious to the creation of a race of warriors, and the effeminate Valencians, who had donned their holiday attire in expectation of a triumph, expired almost without resistance under the weapons of the Christian knights. Resuming the siege, Ferdinand was attacked by illness, and soon after returned to Leon to die. His adversary Motadhid, whose crafty and unscrupulous policy had founded upon the ruins of the khalifate a kingdom more imposing in its dimensions than remarkable for its military strength, soon followed him to the grave.

Malaga, governed by the Edrisites, was long a centre of Berber influence. Its lords, also enervated by the temptations of a tropical climate, to the disgust of their martial followers, suffered their lives to pass in inglorious ease until their domain was finally absorbed by the growing power of Granada.

Attracted by the fame of a crusade, by the hope of eternal salvation, and by the more immediate prospect of worldly advantage, crowds of European adventurers now poured into the Peninsula. Among these a body of Normans, under William de Montreuil, laid siege to Barbastro, a populous frontier town of Aragon. Their valor eventually carried the day, and after a gallant defence the place was surrendered under articles of capitulation. Scarcely had the Normans entered, before these were repudiated; the garrison was surrounded and killed; six thousand of the citizens were massacred outside the walls, and the remainder were doomed to slavery. The atrocities practised by these Christian barbarians seem incredible. Such was the amount of booty, that an inferior officer is said to have received as his share five hundred loads of merchandise and fifteen hundred maidens. In the general division, as was customary, the master with his household and possessions were delivered to the fortunate soldier, who at once proceeded, by ingenious tortures, to insult the distress of his victim and inflict upon him exquisite pain in order to compel the discovery of hidden treasure. The female members of his family were violated in his presence. His body was plunged into boiling oil. He was hacked with swords and battle-axes and his limbs were slowly wasted by fire. The inhumanities which attended the capture of Barbastro are hardly paralleled in any of the bloody annals which recount the crusading exploits of Christian Europe.

During the period of universal anarchy that succeeded the disruption of the khalifate, it is only the larger principalities which, either on account of greater political influence or more advanced conditions of civilization, are worthy of the notice of the historian. An innumerable number of insignificant states arose upon the ruins of that splendid monarchy. Every wali of a district, every governor of a city, aspired to the pomp and consequence of an independent sovereign. A few of these escaped the ruin which overwhelmed their less fortunate countrymen. Others were conquered by the Andalusian princes. The domain of others was forcibly incorporated into the fast-growing monarchy of Castile. With all war was the rule and peace the exception. In the North, the Africans, banished thither by the khalifs for their turbulence and encouraged by the proximity of the Christians whose alliance had often encouraged them to defy the edicts of the court of Cordova, had long been practically independent. In the South, Berber adventurers, incited by the success of Al-Mansur, indulged unmolested their natural propensity to robbery and murder. In Valencia and Granada, the Slaves, whose rapacity was under the early khalifs the reproach of the government, predominated in numbers, wealth, and in influence. In the provinces of Estremadura and the Algarves, the Arabs maintained their ancient and hereditary pride and insubordination. None of these factions were united under a single head. They were split up into a score of bodies, acknowledging temporarily the authority of some petty chieftain, and entertaining as much animosity against their neighbors as they cherished towards their national enemies. The mutual jealousies of these obscure rulers were sedulously inflamed by the politic Christians, who never refused to promote, by supplies of men and money, the quarrels which were constantly undermining the Moslem power in the Peninsula.

Thus political demoralization, impelled both by internal discord and foreign interference, went steadily on. National unity was unknown to the Arabs, with whom the largest measure of personal liberty was the rule of public as well as of private life. That principle of cohesion which binds communities together by the ties of common interest was not recognized in a society where each man considered he had an inalienable right, based upon immemorial prescription and the traditions of the Desert, to plunder his neighbor. Even the greatest of the Ommeyade khalifs were hated by the people. Their lives were never safe. Their persons were constantly guarded by armed foreigners,—Christian Mamelukes, Berber mercenaries, African eunuchs. Fear alone maintained their authority. Their subjects were ignorant of loyalty, patriotism, public spirit, or national honor. The victories of these princes might dazzle the populace. Their liberality might for the moment secure the attachment of the army. The erection of magnificent houses of worship might elicit the applause of the devout; but the possession of the most noble qualities availed nothing in the hour of disaster. The prestige of a distinguished name, the memory of splendid exploits, the sight of grand architectural monuments, the omnipresent culture of a great people, were trifles in the eyes of the Arab bent on blood-revenge, or of the Berber savage with the prospect of the booty of a palace like that of the Medina-al-Zahrâ before him. The rottenness of the Moslem system was disclosed by the death of Al-Mansur. He was the most illustrious captain who ever led the armies of Islam to battle. He was the greatest potentate in Europe. In a quarter of a century of constant warfare no reverses had ever diminished his popularity or tarnished his renown. To all appearances, his power, nominally the power of the khalifate, was established upon an enduring and impregnable basis. Yet he was hardly in his grave before the imposing fabric of the Moorish empire crumbled into dust, and with it disappeared forever the grandeur, the glory, and the civilization of three hundred eventful years.

CHAPTER XVII
WARS WITH THE CHRISTIANS, THE ALMORAVIDES
1044–1121

Dissensions in Castile—Alfonso the Guest of the Emir of Toledo—Civilization of that Moorish Capital—Motamid, Prince of Seville—His Prodigality—-Valencia and Murcia become subject to Mamun—Motamid takes Seville—Military Genius of Alfonso VI.—The Famous Game of Chess—Siege of Toledo—Capitulation of that City—Depredations of Bands of Outlaws—Danger and Distress of the Moslems—Rise of the Almoravides—Their Fanaticism and Prowess—They conquer Northern Africa—The Spanish Emirs appeal to Yusuf—He crosses the Strait—Rout of the Christians at Zallaca—Second Expedition of Yusuf—His Popularity—He claims the Sovereignty of the Peninsula—The Cid: His Character and His Exploits—He serves the Emir of Saragossa—He obtains Control of Valencia—Revolt and Siege of that City—Cruelties of the Cid—Death of Yusuf—Greatness of the Almoravide Empire—Accession of Ali—Demoralization of the Conquerors.

The temporary union of the Christian powers under Ferdinand I., which had so effectually demonstrated the weakness of the Moorish states of the Peninsula and had conferred such distinction on the Castilian arms, was followed by a series of domestic misfortunes culminating in civil war, seriously threatening the stability of the newly founded kingdom, and affording the Moslems an opportunity for recuperation by which they unfortunately had no longer either the energy or the capacity to profit. Ferdinand’s impolitic testamentary disposition of his dominions among his children indicated an amiable weakness, which, while it might be deserving of praise in a private individual, was discreditable to the experience and political foresight of a sovereign. With the public sanction of the nobles, his kingdom was divided into three portions, of which his son Sancho received Castile and a part of what is now Aragon; Alfonso, Leon and the Asturias; and Garcia, Galicia and the Portuguese conquests. To his daughters, Urraca and Elvira, were assigned respectively the cities of Zamora and Toro. As was inevitable, ambition and discontent with this arrangement eventually produced consequences fatal to the interests of the crown. Hostilities first broke out between Sancho and Alfonso with indecisive results. Then they mutually agreed to stake their kingdoms on the result of a single battle. Fortune favored the cause of Alfonso, and, with a clemency unusual in that age, his followers were not permitted even to pursue the routed Castilians, who, by the conditions of the compact, had become the subjects of the victor.

At this time first appears in history the name of a personage whose exploits, for the most part fabulous, have acquired for him a renown not inferior to that enjoyed by the demigods of antiquity,—Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, popularly known as the Cid and the Campeador. His origin was illustrious, for he could trace his lineage to one of the noblest houses of Castile, one of whose members more than a century before had stood high in the councils of the nation, while his own courage and address had been conspicuous in the contests recently inaugurated by the rival aspirants for supremacy, as well as in campaigns against the infidel. He was one of the most trusted adherents of Sancho, and occupied the responsible position of second in command in the Castilian army. His unprincipled adroitness now revived by an outrageous violation of faith the desperate fortunes of his sovereign. The soldiers of Sancho, no longer apprehensive of the carnage usually consequent upon defeat, were soon again united under their standards. At the suggestion of Rodrigo, the Leonese army was attacked at daybreak; their camp was stormed; a dreadful massacre avenged the disaster of the preceding day and punished the negligence unpardonable in the vicinity of an enemy which had rendered such a catastrophe possible. Alfonso fled to the neighboring cathedral of Carrion; but the privilege of sanctuary was little considered in those times, especially when it conflicted with important political interests; and the King of Leon, having been seized, in defiance of the anathemas of the clergy, at the very altar, was carried in chains to Burgos. His life would have been sacrificed had he not unwillingly consented to receive the tonsure and assume the monastic habit, an obligation which, according to the institutions of the kingdom inherited from the ancient Gothic polity, ever after incapacitated him from becoming a candidate for the royal dignity. Becoming weary of the restraints of conventual discipline, which were even more rigidly enforced than usual owing to the peculiar circumstances of his novitiate, Alfonso succeeded in eluding the vigilance of his holy brethren, and, passing the frontier, was hospitably received by Mamun, the Moorish prince of Toledo. In the course of time Sancho managed to deprive his remaining brothers and sisters of their inheritance, with the single exception of Urraca, who still held the strong city of Zamora. While reconnoitring that fortress, he was surprised and killed by a cavalier who suddenly issued from one of the gates. The Castilian nobles, duly assembled in the Great Council of the kingdom, agreed to the election of Alfonso on condition that he would make a solemn oath that the death of his brother had not been instigated by his suggestions. Alfonso complied; Rodrigo Diaz was chosen, as the most powerful subject, to receive the political absolution of the monarch elect; and the latter, placing his hands between those of the man to whom was wholly due his present humiliation, publicly purged himself from all complicity in fratricide. Public considerations, as well as the necessity of retaining the support of a warrior of such redoubtable character, induced Alfonso not long afterwards to give him in marriage Ximena, a daughter of one of the most distinguished of the Asturian nobility.

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.

Thwarted in the enterprise upon which he had founded so many ambitious hopes, Alfonso now directed his attention to Toledo. That principality, raised to such eminence by the genius of Mamun, had since the death of that monarch greatly declined in power and prestige. His son and successor, Kadir, inherited none of the talents or the energy of his illustrious father. Of effeminate tastes and luxurious habits, he was the tool of astrologers, women, and eunuchs. The peace of the palace was disturbed by the incessant quarrels of these rapacious and vindictive parasites. Their disputes consumed the time usually devoted by the councils of princes to the discussion of important questions of state policy; and a contest for precedence in some idle ceremonial or the ignominious competition for a bribe attracted more attention at the court of Toledo than the imposition of a tax or the defence of a city. The most trivial employment, the most frivolous pastime, was not undertaken without a solemn consultation with charlatans. The relative positions of the planets were carefully ascertained before the departure of expeditions of pleasure, and the daily movements of the court were determined by the benign or malignant aspect of the stars. In an age of martial exploits, a prince who countenanced such impostures, and was not endowed with the redeeming qualities of personal courage or military ambition, could not retain the respect of his contemporaries. The boundaries of his dominions contracted year by year. Murcia was taken by the troops of Motamid. Valencia again declared and for a time maintained her independence. The districts on the borders of Portugal, comprising a part of what is now included in the province of Estremadura, were appropriated by Alfonso, who was no longer bound by the obligations of friendship contracted with his ancient host and protector Mamun. The internal affairs of the kingdom of Toledo were in dire confusion. The exactions of the government finally became intolerable. Kadir and his swarm of eunuchs and astrologers were expelled from the city; a provisional government was established; and the rebellious citizens placed themselves under the protection of the Emir of Badajoz. In his extremity, the terrified and superstitious prince applied to his powerful suzerain, the King of Castile. But the latter was not willing to undertake such an invidious task without the previous assurance of some tangible advantage. He required the delivery of all the treasure that Kadir had succeeded in bringing away from Toledo, which included vessels and plate of immense value, as well as many thousand pieces of gold, and the surrender of the most important castles which still acknowledged his authority. The desperate circumstances of the dethroned ruler admitted of no temporizing. A sullen but unconditional acquiescence followed the exorbitant demands of Alfonso, and the treasure was conveyed by slaves to the palace at Burgos. The soldiers of Castile and Leon were then introduced into the citadels of the frontier; and the degenerate son of Mamun, who had already lost his capital, now saw himself about to be deprived of the remainder of his inheritance. Aware of the hopelessness of an attempt to reduce such a fortress as Toledo by means of mining or escalade, the Castilian sovereign resolved to try the tedious but more certain operation of famine. The walls were consequently invested; all avenues of supply were blockaded; and the beautiful valley of the Tagus was denuded of its orchards and its harvests. By a refinement of policy suggested by the peculiar relations existing between the crown of Castile and the Moorish governments of Andalusia, Alfonso adopted the profitable expedient of utilizing the Moslems as instruments of their own destruction. At regular intervals fiscal messengers were despatched to the capitals of the independent municipalities, and the sums thus collected defrayed the expenses of the siege of Toledo. So indispensable, indeed, were these contributions that without their aid no campaign of any length could, during the period under discussion, have been successfully prosecuted by the Christian monarchs of Spain. The revenues of states whose soil and climate were unfavorable to the operations of agriculture, and which were inhabited by a people constantly engaged in warfare, hardly sufficed to maintain the royal establishment, even in time of peace. The booty derived from predatory expeditions, although often of great value, was usually apportioned among the victorious soldiery in the field of battle, and was at once dissipated by the notorious improvidence of its recipients, while the uncertainty of its amount and the difficulty with which it was obtained rendered this source of supply unavailable for the pressing exigencies of the public service. Thus it may be seen how opportune was the regular income of Moorish gold which sustained for years the precarious fortunes of the Castilian monarchy, and by whose aid the vassals of the same suzerain were induced involuntarily to compass each other’s ruin. Familiarity with the use of such an invaluable expedient soon suggested various methods of improving its efficiency. The stipulated amount of the tribute was doubled. Extraordinary contributions were occasionally levied under the name of “gifts,” a species of extortion centuries afterwards adopted by the arbitrary sovereigns of civilized Europe as a convenient means of refilling a depleted treasury. In these financial transactions, the agency of Hebrews, whose heterodox opinions were not openly condemned so long as their unscrupulous schemes could be made to enure to the profit of the state, were exclusively employed. The arrogance of these emissaries, who exaggerated the importance of their trust, and, emboldened by their influence with the monarch, made no effort to disguise their power, was often intolerable. During the siege of Toledo, the Jew Ben-Kalib was sent with a small retinue by Alfonso to collect the tribute of Seville. When the money was tested, it was found to have been alloyed with baser metal. The vizier of Motamid, who had delivered it, was summoned to the camp of the embassy. As soon as he arrived, the fury of Ben-Kalib prevailed over his discretion, and he exclaimed, “How dare you try to impose upon me with these counterfeits? I will not depart until after you have furnished me with coin of the stipulated weight and value, and next year I shall exact the tribute of my master in cities, not in gold!” This insolence was immediately reported to Motamid; the Christian envoys paid for the imprudent conduct of their comrade with imprisonment; and Ben-Kalib, realizing when too late the fatal error he had committed, after having offered in vain his weight in gold as a ransom, was crucified like the most degraded malefactor.

The rage of the King of Castile when he heard of the treatment of his ambassadors knew no bounds. The survivors were ransomed by the delivery of the castle of Almodovar; and then Alfonso, leaving behind him a sufficient force to blockade Toledo, carried fire and sword through the dominions of Motamid to the very shores of the Mediterranean.

There is nothing so indicative of the helpless condition of the Moslems in these wars as their evident inability to obstruct the progress or harass the movements of an invading army. They seem to have trusted solely to the defences of their strongholds. The plantations, the peasantry, the flocks, and the harvests were precipitately abandoned to the enemy. Not a vestige remained of that ancient spirit which had repelled the martial chivalry of Europe in many sanguinary encounters, which had planted the Moslem standards in the plains of Central France, on the mountains of Sardinia, on the banks of the Po and the Tiber, on the towers of Palermo and Syracuse, on the ruined walls of Narbonne and Santiago.

His vengeance for the moment satiated, Alfonso returned to the siege of Toledo. The continuous investment of seven years’ duration had almost exhausted the resources, and had entirely shaken the resolution, of the inhabitants of that proud and rebellious city. They now consented to make terms with their exiled sovereign, and Kadir, followed by his greedy train of eunuchs and conjurers, was again permitted to ascend the throne of his ancestors. The price exacted for this restoration by his allies made it, however, a costly triumph. The exorbitant demands of Alfonso impoverished the treasury and appropriated the most valuable domain of the once splendid inheritance of the princes of Toledo. All of his own portable possessions, together with the vast wealth amassed by his family, were laid at the feet of his rapacious ally. But even this did not satisfy the King of Castile, who, in pursuance of the astute policy which had hitherto proved so successful, had adopted a safer and a less expensive mode of conquest than a direct appeal to arms. The fortresses which had been transferred to the Christians as security were appropriated, nominally to defray the expenses of the war. Others were demanded and given up, until little remained to Kadir but a comparatively small extent of territory, which had been ravaged alternately by both Christian and Moslem armies, and the perilous jurisdiction of a discontented and turbulent capital. Deprived of his revenues and almost without means of subsistence, Kadir had now no resource to employ for the maintenance of his household and his dignity but the oppression of his subjects. The people, however, were not willing to longer endure the exactions of a frivolous and tyrannical master, and sought in the neighboring states an asylum from persecution. Some fled to the fertile and hospitable regions of the South,—to Seville, Granada, Malaga. Others settled in the kingdom of Saragossa. Many of those who remained, stripped of all their property and unable to procure food for their families, died of hunger. Once populous districts were entirely deserted. Towns of considerable size were abandoned to ruin; not a living thing was to be seen in the empty streets; and among the decaying habitations everywhere prevailed the awful and impressive silence of the tomb. In the presence of the public distress, the regular payment of tribute was inexorably enforced by Alfonso. The inability of Kadir to respond to the demand precipitated the seizure of his remaining estates, which, since his restoration, he had only held by the sufferance of his Christian neighbors. Unable longer to maintain his failing power, he opened negotiations looking to the surrender of his capital. The conditions imposed and accepted were such as, while extremely favorable to the Moslems, could be readily conceded by the magnanimous spirit of Alfonso. The privileges of unmolested residence, of the enjoyment of property, of the practice of religious rites, were granted to the Toledans; and they were also permitted to retain the services of their own magistrates and to be subject to the operation of their own laws. The tribute to the new sovereign was fixed at the same amount which had been payable to the old in accordance with the legal tax of the Mussulman code. The grand mosque was to be forever inviolate and solely devoted to the worship of Islam. The fortifications, the public works, the royal palace and gardens, were to become the property of the Castilian crown. A private article closely affecting the political fortunes of the King of Toledo was one of the important provisions of the treaty. It stipulated that the latter was, as soon as practicable, to be placed on the throne of Valencia, even if the entire power of the Christian monarchy should be required to carry it into effect. The last hours of Kadir in his lost capital were passed in consultation with astrologers to determine the most auspicious moment for his departure. His ludicrous distress aroused the ridicule and amazement of all who beheld him as, carrying an astrolabe, he rode slowly out of the gate at the head of his escort. Great numbers of Moslems in a short time abandoned their homes on account of the open and unrebuked violation of the compact which had conferred upon them the exercise of their religion and the enjoyment of their ancient privileges.

As soon as the treaty was signed, the King of Castile entered the city, followed by an imposing train of ecclesiastics and cavaliers. All the pomp of the Christian hierarchy, all the barbaric luxury of the Spanish nobles, were displayed on this occasion of triumph, an occasion which portended the speedy overthrow of the Moorish sovereignty in the North. The prelates, attired in their official vestments, bore aloft the crosses and the sacred vessels once the property of the Gothic clergy of imperial Toledo. These, rescued from the polluting grasp of the Saracen and preserved for nearly four hundred years in the inaccessible depths of the Asturias, were now to be restored to their altars, a convincing proof of the truth of the gospel and of the justice and power of the Christian God. Behind the ecclesiastical dignitaries came the nobles, many of them descendants of families that had once inhabited the palaces of the Visigothic capital,—the ancestors of the most illustrious houses of the Spanish monarchy. The rear was closed by the ladies of the court, guarded by a detachment of the Castilian army.

Affairs having been settled in Toledo, a large force was sent to Valencia to secure that rich kingdom through the instrumentality of Kadir. The co-operation of a faction friendly to the Prince of Toledo facilitated the occupation of the capital, and the provinces soon followed its example. But the majority of the people detested their new ruler, who incurred all the odium of an intruder and possessed none of the dazzling qualities which usually attach to the character of a conqueror. The country groaned under the impositions exacted by the maintenance of a host of half-savage Castilians. Their pay and rations absorbed each day the great sum of six hundred pieces of gold. To meet this extraordinary demand, heavy taxes were levied; the rich were plundered; and the license of the soldiers, who respected neither the laws of military discipline nor the rites of hospitality, was, of necessity, ignored. Then, as a compromise, these troublesome guests were established on lands in the fertile valley of the Segura, which had been depopulated by the accidents and calamities of war. But this experiment proved unsatisfactory. The plantations were consigned by their owners to the labors and the supervision of slaves; while the adjacent territory was vexed by the incursions of bold riders who, in the exercise of their rapacious instincts, made no discrimination between friend and foe. The prevalence of factious disorder, the absence of recognized authority, and the consequent immunity enjoyed by outlaws of every description caused the profession of brigandage to be regarded as the most popular and lucrative of employments. The numbers and invincible reputation of the Castilians soon made their camp the asylum of every fugitive from justice, proscribed rebel, and religious apostate in Southeastern Spain. Thoroughly demoralized by such associations, the soldiers of Kadir, prompted by their infamous recruits, openly assumed the profession of banditti and became the scourge of the kingdom. They stripped travellers. They extorted immense ransoms from the wealthy residents of cities. They quartered themselves on the citizens, and violated the chastity of the female members of their households. They mutilated their victims in ways that forbid description. No rank, no creed, was exempt from their murderous brutality. The noble was beaten to reveal the whereabouts of his treasures. The peasant, whether Moslem or Christian, was seized and sold as a slave. A handful of copper, a measure of wine, a loaf of bread, or a pound of fish was sufficient to purchase one of these unfortunates. Those who were unsalable on account of age or physical infirmity were made the objects of ingenious and protracted tortures; they were blinded by fire; their flesh was pierced with red-hot irons; their tongues were cut out; or they were thrown to famished and infuriated dogs.

At this time, throughout the Peninsula, the isolated remains of Moslem power seemed about to yield to Christian supremacy. The prestige of the kingdom of Castile, under the guidance of an adroit and valiant monarch, daily increased. Toledo had fallen. Saragossa was besieged by a powerful army. The Castilians had established themselves at many points in the heart of the enemy’s country. The principality of Almeria was incessantly harassed by the expeditions of a predatory band which had seized the town of Aledo. Valencia was practically dominated by the subjects of Alfonso. The Christians of Granada regularly communicated with their brethren domiciled in the neighboring kingdoms, and, as the result of this intercourse, a small troop of adventurous cavaliers had penetrated to a point within a few miles of that city. The prowess of the Christian knight was so dreaded that his very appearance was able to put to flight a score of Moslems. In this age of transition between the historic achievements of the khalifate and the martial exploits which distinguished the Conquest of Granada, Moorish loyalty and courage were but a reminiscence. The ultimate destiny of the Hispano-Arab states of Spain—a destiny which implied destruction and servitude—was obvious and inevitable. The most fortunate of them was no longer able to preserve a condition of even nominal and ambiguous independence. The haughtiest of their princes were mere vassals, whose domains were held by an arbitrary and precarious tenure. There was no longer a possibility either of concerted action or of successful individual exertion among these mutually jealous and disorganized communities. North of the Sierra Morena, south of the Strait of Gibraltar, two great powers, equal in valor, distinct in nationality, antagonistic in religion, urged on alike by the fierce passions of fanaticism and avarice, were fast converging to a common centre,—the smiling plains of Andalusia. It was no longer a question whether the disrupted remains of the khalifate were to be Edrisite, Slave, or Amiride. The choice was now to be made between two masters, and it must be speedily determined whether Spain was to become Berber or Castilian.

The emergency admitted of no delay. So pressing indeed was it, that a national and universal emigration was seriously discussed. Any evil was deemed preferable to the persecutions and outrages of the Christian soldiery. Since his occupation of Toledo, the military operations of Alfonso had evinced a wider and more portentous activity. His resources had been materially augmented. His army was almost doubled by the foreign mercenaries and adventurers who flocked to his standard. His arrogance increased in a direct ratio to his territorial acquisitions. He assumed the title of emperor, which had no foundation but his own inordinate vanity. He adopted the grandiloquent appellation of Sovereign of the Men of Two Religions, a title whose absurdity was the more apparent inasmuch as his orthodoxy was seriously questioned and his intolerance of the dogmas of Mohammed notorious and proverbial. He at all times made no secret of his intention to place the Moorish provinces of the Peninsula under the Castilian sceptre as soon as his martial preparations had been completed.

To understand the course of subsequent events, it is now necessary to turn to the continent of Africa, where an ominous political and religious revolution had obliterated the boundaries of great nations and changed the face and the conditions of society.

In the Desert of Sahara, south of ancient Numidia, there existed from time immemorial a race of nomadic warriors who traced a doubtful genealogy to the inhabitants of Yemen, in Arabia. The western part of the Desert was inhabited by the Lamtounah, a division of this race, affiliated by ties of tribal connection and intimacy with the Sanhadjah, who, from the time of the conquest of Musa, had been prominent in the wars and seditions of Al-Maghreb and Spain. The Lamtounah, with their kindred, belonged to the Berber nation, and pursued the primitive avocations of a pastoral life. In addition to their flocks, they maintained large numbers of ostriches and camels, which constituted the bulk of their movable possessions. Their food was camel’s flesh and milk; the barren sands of the Desert afforded no encouragement to the operations of agriculture, and the tribes of the Sahara were wholly unacquainted with the culture and the enjoyment of the products of the soil. The seclusion of their country, rarely penetrated by traders, who could find among such an uncivilized people few objects of barter, kept them in ignorance of the most ordinary commodities of life; of its luxuries they had no conception; and when, at rare intervals, a loaf of bread came into their hands through the medium of some generous traveller, it was regarded as a great curiosity. These nomads differed both in mental and physical characteristics from their neighbors. They were more fierce, more haughty, more brave. Their religion was idolatrous, slightly veneered with a spurious and corrupt Islamism; for, although the principal maxims of the Mussulman faith were not unfamiliar to the most intelligent, the great mass of the population knew little and cared less about the mission and the precepts of the Prophet of Mecca. The Lamtounah were tall and handsome, the men being models of strength and symmetry, while the women possessed unusual charms of person and manner. The swarthy complexion ordinarily associated with the inhabitants of Africa was absent from the Berbers of the Sahara, whose skins, where not exposed to the scorching rays of the sun, were as white as that of any European. Their garments were of blue and striped cotton or of the tanned hide of the antelope. A terrible and mysterious aspect was imparted to their faces by the practice of covering them below the eyes with a pendent cloth, which, like a veil, protected the features and the respiration of the wearer from the heat and the sand-storms of the Desert. Their sandals were of black leather, attached to the foot by scarlet fastenings curiously embroidered with gold. Of their weapons,—identical with those used so effectively by the Numidian horsemen of Sallust,—the lance and the javelin were the most commonly employed; the scimetar and the poniard were reserved for the emergencies of a hand-to-hand encounter. The courage of these barbarians was proverbial from the highest antiquity; their subjugation had never been seriously attempted by any conqueror; they had defied the power of Carthage, repulsed the desultory attacks of the Arabs, and confronted with inflexible resolution the arms and the discipline of the Roman legions under both the Consuls and the Emperors.

A certain chieftain, Yahya-Ibn-Ibrahim, belonging to the tribe of Djidala, a subdivision of the Lamtounah, and a zealous but ignorant Moslem, performed, through motives of curiosity and devotion, about the year 1036, the pilgrimage to the Holy Cities of Arabia enjoined upon his sect, but rare among his countrymen. The simple pilgrim, to whom the world outside of the limited area of the Desert was even by report wholly unknown, was astonished and delighted with the revelations and experiences of civilized life. While on his return, he attended the lectures of a learned and celebrated theologian and scholar, named Abu-Amram, whose eloquence daily attracted great audiences in the court of the principal mosque of Kairoan. The enraptured attention of the new disciple awakened the curiosity of the lecturer; he inquired the nationality, the sect, and the tribe of the attentive auditor; and learned with surprise and regret of the religious ignorance of the countrymen of the latter, whose credulity and favorable disposition seemed, on the other hand, to promise an easy and enduring conversion. Inspired by the fervent zeal of a proselyte, Yahya requested of his teacher that one of his followers might be selected to accompany him to expound to the benighted tribes of the Sahara the doctrines and the duties of Islam. The proposal was made to the assembly; but the perils of the journey and the uncertainty of its issue caused even the most zealous to hesitate; while the exaggerated ferocity of the Berbers, to whom the most shocking cruelties were popularly attributed, caused the students of Kairoan to shrink from exposure to the sufferings and glories of voluntary martyrdom. But in the distant province of Sus-al-Aksa, where Yahya repaired under the instructions of Abu-Amram, a missionary was found who signified his willingness to penetrate the unknown region, at the risk of liberty and life and to brave the prejudices of a race of savages, for the sake of imparting the sacred instructions of the Koran. The name of this zealot was Abdallah-Ibn-Jahsim. Possessed of great erudition, an eloquent orator, a practised controversialist, he was, in all respects, admirably qualified for the task he had undertaken. His familiarity with the various dialects of the Berber tongue and his knowledge of human nature obtained by travel in many lands, combined with a graceful address and winning manners, at once gained for him the attention and the esteem of his new associates. His discourses were listened to with mingled curiosity and veneration. His disciples multiplied by thousands. The most influential chieftains were charmed by his eloquence; and the fame of the accomplished messenger of Islam soon extended from the Mediterranean and the Atlantic to the outermost limits of the Desert. His calling, and the amazing success with which it was prosecuted among a people naturally credulous, were not long in investing him with mysterious and supernatural attributes; the intimate association of divine inspiration and royal authority always existing in the minds of the nomads of Africa and Asia raised him still higher in the public estimation; while the voluntary allegiance of tribal dignitaries, and the fanatical devotion of multitudes of proselytes, heralded the foundation of a new spiritual and temporal empire.

The example of his Prophet could not fail, under the circumstances, to suggest to the mind of the reformer the most flattering dreams of ambition. By every expedient of political ingenuity he tightened his grasp upon the superstitious myriads who already adored him. His rigid austerities edified the devout. The simplicity of his attire, the plainness of his table, and the regularity of his habits served to effectually disguise the lofty aspirations which he cherished in secret. He boldly assumed the hazardous authority of appointing the sheiks of the various tribes, an office heretofore elective and jealously guarded by the barbarians as an essential indication and guaranty of independence. He aroused the cupidity and fanaticism of his auditors by enumerating the spoils to be obtained from the infidel, by representing the merits of perpetual warfare, and by delineating, with all the embellishments of Oriental hyperbole, the sensual pleasures of the Mohammedan paradise. At length the desired consolidation of the tribes of the Desert was complete. The portentous union of implicit faith and unhesitating obedience had been accomplished; and, for hundreds of leagues throughout the Sahara, hosts of redoubtable and eager warriors impatiently awaited the signal for action. Their numbers were enormous. Their fanaticism was blind, furious, irresistible. Their strength and dexterity were so great that it was a trifling feat for one of them to completely transfix a horse with a lance or to cleave his rider to the saddle with a single blow of the scimetar. With such potent auxiliaries it was not impossible to conquer a world.

The denizens of the Atlas were the first to experience the power of the newly-organized empire. The courage of these mountaineers and the natural defences of their country had enabled them to repulse the cavalry of Musa, and that skilful general had been compelled to tolerate the presumption of a race which the experience of military commanders had for centuries pronounced invincible. But the mountain tribes were unable to sustain their well-merited reputation in the face of the followers of Abdallah. They were driven from the plains. Their haunts were invaded, and fastnesses heretofore considered inaccessible were penetrated by the swarming legions of the Desert. Their flocks were swept away. Their families were borne into slavery. Finally, broken in spirit, they acknowledged the divine mission of the reformer; repeated with superstitious and unmeaning reverence the formula of the Mussulman creed; accepted with meek submission the political superiority of the Lamtounah; and contributed a considerable reinforcement to the already formidable army of the conqueror.

Abdallah did not long enjoy the substantial fruits of his victories. He was killed in a skirmish twenty-two years after the commencement of his public career as a missionary, and the government and destiny of the Berber nation devolved on Abu-Bekr-Ibn-Omar, Emir of the Lamtounah, whose appointment had been dictated by the authority of Abdallah himself. Abu-Bekr, while not aspiring to the divine character assumed by his predecessor, was none the less fortunate in prosecuting his designs of conquest. He invaded and subdued the ancient kingdom of the Edrisites, and incorporated it into his vast dominions. He occupied, in turn, the capitals of Fez and Mequinez, and, dissatisfied with their surroundings, or craving distinction in a new field, he began the construction of the city of Morocco as a residence for the dynasty he had founded. Summoned unexpectedly to the borders of the Desert to suppress a rebellion, he left the administration of the empire in the hands of his cousin, Yusuf-Ibn-Tashfin. This chieftain, destined to enduring celebrity as the deliverer and conqueror of Spain, had already passed the term of middle life. His person was agreeable, his manners fascinating, his reputation for valor and capacity unsurpassed. He constantly practised, without effort or ostentation, the abstemious habits of his nomadic ancestry. The devout and the indigent received with grateful acknowledgments the frequent tokens of his charity and benevolence. In the high station which his birth and talents had secured for him he had always acted as a wise and discriminating ruler. His character was, however, obscured by many degrading vices, and, under the mask of a political ascetic, he concealed the sinister designs of a calculating and unscrupulous ambition. The opportunity for personal advancement now offered him was eminently congenial with the dark and perfidious maxims of policy which regulated his conduct. By judicious donations he courted and secured the favor of the army. The populace was profoundly edified by the sight of their prince working daily, like a common laborer, on the mosque of the rising capital. The fame of the new city, the extent of its plan, the rapidity of its construction, the splendor of its edifices, the abundance of its waters, the beauty of its gardens, attracted from every quarter of Northern Africa a numerous and enterprising population. On a commanding eminence at the northern extremity stood the palace and citadel, fortified by all the art of foreign engineers. The protracted absence of Abu-Bekr by degrees obliterated the remembrance of his rights from the minds of a people to whom his person was unfamiliar; and his authority was soon eclipsed by the increasing popularity and influence of an ambitious subordinate who aspired to absolute independence. Not content with despoiling his cousin of his throne, Yusuf even appropriated his favorite wife; and the lovely Zeinab, a woman of great talents and beauty, not unwilling to exchange the neglect of an absent lord for the immediate prospect of love and empire, passed without a sigh into the harem of the daring usurper. Aware of the vital importance of preserving the affection of his followers, Yusuf lavished upon them the most expensive garments, horses, and armor; his bodyguard, equally composed of Christian captives and negro slaves, resplendent in silks and jewels, was daily exercised in the rapid and bewildering evolutions peculiar to the cavalry of the Desert; and less than one year after the departure of Abu-Bekr, a hundred thousand warriors, impelled by a blind fanaticism and who revered their leader almost as a divinity, stood ready, at an instant’s notice, to respond to his call to arms.

At length, after many months, Abu-Bekr returned to his capital. Long before he reached it, his ears were saluted with the rumors of the quiet revolution which had virtually deprived him of his consort and his crown. The satisfaction he derived from the triumphant issue of the expedition, the fond anticipations he cherished of the joyous acclamations of his subjects and of the affectionate embraces of his wife, were obscured by sad and gloomy apprehensions. He heard with wonder of the prodigious growth and opulence of the city he had so recently founded. His credulity was taxed by the marvellous accounts of its mansions and its suburbs; of the vast revenues collected and expended by the imperial treasury; of the magnificence of the court; of the numbers and equipment of the army. Soon the emissaries of Yusuf secretly penetrated his camp. His soldiers were corrupted with rich bribes and the assurance of booty or promotion, and, their loyalty once shaken, they awaited with impatience the signal for desertion or mutiny. These intrigues and their inevitable tendency could not be concealed from the unfortunate Abu-Bekr. Aware that resistance or reproach would cost him his life, he wisely resolved to dissemble his feelings and accept his fate. By a public and solemn abdication he renounced his rights in favor of Yusuf, and, broken-hearted, retired with a few trusty followers to the solitude of the Desert. The title of the new Sultan of Africa having been thus confirmed by every requisite of inherited prestige and legal authority, he continued to increase the area of his already immense dominions. Far from being satisfied with the growth of his empire, he was scarcely seated on the throne before he began to meditate the invasion of the Spanish Peninsula. The example of Tarik, the demoralized condition of his co-religionists beyond the strait, the menacing attitude of the Christian powers, the prospect of political aggrandizement, the hope of military distinction, the merit of protecting the faith of which he was now the most distinguished exponent,—all these considerations, and others far less praiseworthy, urged the energetic Yusuf to a more glorious career. As a prelude to future operations, he stormed the cities of Tangier and Ceuta, repaired or rebuilt their fortifications, constructed within their walls great magazines and arsenals, and garrisoned them with large bodies of veterans of tried courage and fidelity. His dominions now reached from the eastern boundary of Tunis to the Atlantic, from the Mediterranean to the burning regions of Senegal. No African potentate had ever before wielded such enormous power. No Moslem prince had ever exercised jurisdiction over so extensive a territory. In area and population it greatly exceeded, in civilization and intelligence only was it inferior to, the mighty domination of Carthage. Such was the ruler, and such the empire whose potent aid the distressed Moslems of Andalusia were about to invoke.

It was only after much deliberation that the Hispano-Arab princes determined to adopt the desperate expedient of appealing to Yusuf. The imams and the other ecclesiastical authorities had from the beginning urged this step, foreseeing, through its acceptance, a certain accession to their professional importance and a probable augmentation of their political power. But the sovereigns, who cared more for the possession of their thrones, precarious though that might be, than for the reformation of their faith or the exaltation of its ministers, were loath to admit into their dominions a conqueror flushed with victory and supported by the vast treasures and the innumerable hordes of Northern and Central Africa. But, unhappily, no other alternative remained. Rumors of the great preparations of Alfonso increased day by day, and at length the question was decided by Motamid, who resolutely declared, when the danger of inviting the Berbers was enlarged on by his courtiers, “If it is the will of Allah that I should be deprived of my kingdom and become the slave of a foreigner, I would far rather be a camel-driver in Africa than a swineherd in Castile.”

The preponderating influence of the lord of Seville overcame the indecision of the other Moorish princes, and the kadis of Granada, Badajoz, and Cordova, duly empowered to act as ambassadors with the vizier of Motamid, repaired to the court of Yusuf. The enterprise was agreeable to the ambitious designs of the Sultan of Africa, but he insisted upon the transfer of the island of Algeziras as an indispensable condition of the alliance. This the envoys having neither the authority nor the inclination to grant, matters remained in suspense until the influence of his religious advisers, who exercised a singular ascendant over the mind of Yusuf, urged him to seize the island if its possession was refused to him. A hundred vessels suddenly set sail from Ceuta, and a great force landed at Algeziras. The possession of the place was peremptorily demanded by the general of the African army; the governor refused compliance; and hostilities were only prevented by a timely order from Seville requiring the evacuation of the city by the Moorish commander. Yusuf soon arrived with his guards; the citadel was put in the best possible condition for defence; the magazines were replenished; and every means adopted for the strengthening and preservation of a fortress so essential to secure reinforcements or to protect the retreat of an invading army. Under such sinister auspices did the Almoravides, or Wearers of the Veil, first set foot on Spain. The occupation of Algeziras, recognized by both Moor and Berber as permanent and equivalent to the practical surrender of the key of Andalusia to a foreign government, portended even to the most careless observer the speedy dissolution of the Saracen power.

Yusuf was received near Seville by Motamid with the honors due to his exalted rank; and the treasury of the latter was almost exhausted by the splendid gifts with which he endeavored to propitiate the favor and secure the attachment of his dangerous ally. Such was his liberality that every soldier of the Almoravide army received a present, a proceeding which, in view of the weakness of the government and the exaggerated idea of its resources which it conveyed, was, to say the least, highly impolitic.

The rulers of the various states of Andalusia contributed all the troops which could possibly be spared from their small and ill-appointed armies, and the allied forces, amounting to nearly twenty thousand men, proceeded northward in search of the enemy. Meanwhile, the King of Castile had not been idle. The siege of Saragossa, which had for months engaged his attention and consumed the energies of his impatient followers, was hastily raised. Orders were despatched to every vassal to repair with his retainers to an appointed rendezvous. The bold peasantry of the Pyrenees were exhorted by religious emissaries to imitate the glorious example of their ancestors, who had preserved, amidst the most discouraging circumstances, their national faith and their political liberties. A formidable contingent of French cavaliers, whom the prospect of booty and the love of adventure had attracted to the Castilian standards, materially strengthened by their numbers and their prowess the confidence and the enthusiasm of the Christians. On the plain of Zallaca, in the province of Badajoz, the hostile forces were marshalled in menacing array. The devout prejudices of the Catholic king were insulted by an imperious summons from Yusuf to renounce his belief or pay tribute to the representative of Islam. A lengthy answer couched in the grandiloquent style of the age and ending with an expression of defiance was returned to this menacing epistle; the armies encamped within sight of each other; and, in compliance with the practice of those chivalrous times, the day of battle was appointed by mutual consent. The messengers of Alfonso suggested the second day from that date, which would be Saturday; the choice was approved by the unsuspecting Africans; but the astuteness of the experienced officers of Motamid detected in this plausible arrangement the evidences of a deep-laid and dangerous stratagem. The Andalusians, who formed the advance-guard, were, in such an event, most exposed to a surprise, and the fate of the entire army depended, in fact, on their vigilance. No precaution was overlooked. The sentinels were doubled. Patrols made frequent rounds along the lines. The soldiers were admonished to sleep upon their arms. Reconnoitring parties were sent to report the slightest signs of unusual activity in the enemy’s camp. It was not without cause that a universal feeling of anxiety pervaded the Moslem army. Upon the result of the impending conflict hung all that was dear to the soldiers of Islam,—their fortunes, their liberties, their lives, and their religion. The prospect was far from encouraging. The enemy had the advantage in numbers, in organization, in discipline. Their forces, sixty thousand in all, exceeded those of the Mussulmans in the overwhelming proportion of three to one. The Castilians were superior in the strength of their horses, in the character of their weapons, in the weight and temper of their armor. Conspicuous among them were the French knights completely sheathed in glittering steel. The Christians were, to a man, warriors tried in many a bloody fray; they were animated by a common purpose and obedient to a single commander; and they considered the enterprise in which they had embarked as one peculiarly favored by Heaven. Their zeal was inflamed daily by distinguished prelates, whose presence imparted additional sanctity to a crusade nominally waged for the glory and the propagation of the Faith. On the eve of battle, these ecclesiastical counsellors, in all the splendor of full canonicals, harangued the ranks of the soldiery; and not infrequently were they to be found, like the members of the ancient Visigothic hierarchy, contending with carnal weapons in the heat and peril of deadly conflict, where their words of sympathy brought composure and hope to the dying, and their consecrated hands performed, with its impressive ceremonial, the last solemn rites of the Church for the dead. Despite the weakness of faith characteristic of the military profession, and especially marked in the minds of soldiers of fortune, the exhortations and labors of the Spanish clergy played no inconsiderable part in the Reconquest. No matter how skeptical a Castilian prince might be on inconvenient points of doctrine,—and few in that age were sincerely devout,—they rarely neglected the punctilious observance of the ritual of the Church, and, what was even more indispensable in the eyes of the clergy, the constant and liberal support of its ministers.

Among the Moslems, on the other hand, there was far less of that unity and confidence which contribute so much to the certainty and ease of victory. The generals of the Andalusians distrusted their troops; the sovereigns suspected each other. It was no secret that public sentiment had been hostile to the enlistment of the Africans, and that their presence was only the last resort of a desperate emergency. The Spanish Arabs regarded the Berbers rather as intruders than as allies, while the intrepid warriors of the Desert looked down with contempt on an effeminate soldiery unpractised in arms, arrayed in the silken vestments formerly allotted to women, who were not strong enough to endure the fatigues of an ordinary campaign, whose courage was doubtful, and who had long since demonstrated their incapacity to even partially recover the prestige or to defend the remains of a once magnificent empire. The defiant seizure of Algeziras had raised the most alarming apprehensions as to the ultimate designs of Yusuf. The ambition of that prince was known in every city of Spain. Moorish traders and spies had brought back from the court of Morocco accounts of menaced invasion, descriptions of fortresses equipped to cover a possible retreat, mysterious hints of a prospective gigantic Hispano-African monarchy. Each Andalusian, as he viewed the swarthy and ferocious legions of the invader, reflected, with terror, that he might even then, by increasing the power of his allies, be indirectly contributing to the subjugation of his country and the enslavement of himself.

No one was more disturbed than Motamid. By every device familiar to that superstitious age, he endeavored to read the signs of futurity and, with the aid of means emphatically condemned by his religion as idolatrous, to ascertain the inscrutable will of God. His attendants carefully noted the occurrence of every mysterious omen and augury. The court astrologers were kept busy with gnomon and astrolabe observing the positions of the planets and the propitious or unfavorable indications of the heavens.

Before dawn, on the twenty-third day of October, 1086, word reached the Moslem camp that the enemy was in motion. The suspicions of the officers of Motamid were verified, and the appointment of a day for the engagement had been only a ruse to facilitate a surprise. The situation of the Andalusians was critical. Their camp was not fortified. Their deficiency in numbers and lack of discipline rendered them ill-fitted to withstand the attack of the entire Christian army. Messenger after messenger was despatched to Yusuf representing the danger. But the Berber chieftain, although his troops were under arms, still remained inactive. He had matured a design of whose success he was confident, and he now only awaited a favorable opportunity for its execution. Without the least solicitude for his allies, whose sarcastic allusions to the intellectual inferiority and uncouth manners of his race had embittered the prejudice already existing between the two nations, he was not unwilling that they should expose their weakness by vainly imploring the aid of those whom they had repeatedly insulted. With the first shock of battle the Andalusians were thrown into disorder, and all, except the soldiers of Motamid, who were soon surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers, fled ignominiously from the field. The Prince of Seville and his followers, although taken at such a fatal disadvantage, sustained with unshaken firmness the furious onslaught of the Christian host. Motamid himself nobly redeemed upon that glorious day the tarnished reputation of his house, and emulated the exploits of the ancient heroes of the khalifate by the performance of prodigies of valor. He courted death and martyrdom in the very thickest of the fight. He was twice wounded, and had three horses killed under him. His armor was broken; his sword dripped with the blood of his enemies; and the heap of corpses which lay before him attested the strength of his arm and the dauntless resolution of his spirit. At length a large reinforcement of Africans arrived, and the diversion they caused permitted the Andalusians a momentary respite. In the mean time the crafty Yusuf, favored by intervening mountains, had gained the rear of the army of Alfonso, and suddenly descended like an avalanche on the Christian camp. Enveloped by thousands of ferocious warriors, the guard was instantly cut to pieces. The tents were set on fire, and the Castilians saw with astonishment and dismay the conflagration of their camp and the plunder of their equipage. Day was breaking as the forces of the Moslems bore down upon their rear. The strange aspect, the odor, and the discordant cries of the camels, of which there were hundreds in the Berber army, frightened the horses of the Christians and threw them into confusion. Motamid’s division, now become the assailants,—for the front of the battle had been reversed through the unexpected manœuvre of the Africans,—inspired by the hope of victory, redoubled its efforts. Thus taken unawares, crowded within a narrow compass, and attacked on opposite sides, the numerical superiority of the Christians was rather a serious impediment than an advantage. Their ranks, disordered by the camels, doubled back upon each other; the closeness of their array prevented effective action; and those exposed to the scimetars of the Berber horsemen were unable either to retire or to defend themselves. In the long series of sanguinary engagements which marked the progress of the Reconquest, none was more stubbornly contested than the battle of Zallaca. Time and again the Moslem position was taken and lost. The pride and valor of the Castilians contested with determined obstinacy the field which a few hours before they had thought already won. The return of the fugitive Andalusians, the prowess of the soldiers of Motamid, and the charge of the guards of Yusuf decided the doubtful fortune of the day. The wavering of the Christian army soon became a rout, the rout a massacre. The infuriated Africans, unaccustomed to the usages of civilized warfare, gave no quarter to their fleeing and helpless enemies. The flower of the Castilian nobility perished. The entire loss of the Christians was more than twenty thousand. The infantry was scattered, and Alfonso, dangerously wounded with the dagger of one of Yusuf’s guards, succeeded in escaping with but five hundred followers. The approach of darkness alone prevented the utter annihilation of the Christian army.

The battle of Zallaca was not attended with the advantageous and important results to the Moslem cause which its decisive character would naturally indicate. Inordinate greed and official negligence permitted the escape of the wounded monarch, whose capture would have been a fitting termination to such a victory. The clumsy horses of the Christian knights were no match in speed or endurance for the swift coursers of the Desert. The condition and departure of Alfonso and his escort—none of whom escaped unhurt—had been observed, yet the plunder of the fallen and the rich spoils of the camp possessed greater charms for the Berber soldiery than the seizure of a captive whose ransom might be worth a kingdom. The call to prayer upon the battle-field was made by the muezzin from an elevation formed of the heads of thousands of slaughtered Christians.

The day after the battle, Yusuf, who had bestowed his share of the booty on his Moorish allies, received intelligence of the death of his son at Ceuta, and, his mission for the time accomplished and the security of his allies assured, he returned to his dominions, leaving a strong detachment of experienced troops under command of the Prince of Seville.

The danger which had threatened the Moorish dominions on the northern side having been disposed of, Motamid, elated by the distinction he had gained at the battle of Zallaca, determined to attempt the expulsion of the Christians from Eastern Spain. This, as he was well aware, would prove no easy undertaking. The provinces of Valencia and Murcia were at that time controlled by the most formidable bands of mercenaries, adventurers, and outlaws in Europe. The principal seat of this military banditti was Aledo, a fortress occupying the summit of an isolated mountain, and whose defences, natural and artificial, were supposed to be proof against the utmost skill of the mediæval engineer. Here were conveyed indiscriminately the sacrilegious plunder of mosques and churches, the hard-earned possessions of the husbandman, the enslaved peasantry of the Valencian and Murcian villages, and the beautiful female captives of Andalusia. The robbers domiciled in this fortress served under Castilian officers and were nominally Christians, but their allegiance to both creed and crown was precarious; destitute of faith, religion, or loyalty they were composed of the dregs of every nation, and even many renegade Moslems were enlisted in their ranks. The garrison of Aledo could muster thirteen thousand fighting men.

The victory of Zallaca, whose consequences were not permanent even in the region where it had been obtained, had in nowise affected the distant provinces of Eastern Spain. The Moorish population were daily more and more harassed by raids and enforced contributions; the inhabitants of the most fertile districts were greatly diminished in numbers by violence and flight; and it was evident that erelong the feeble remnant of the industrious race which had transformed that portion of the Peninsula into a paradise must be either enslaved or exterminated by the outlaws of Valencia and Aledo.

Motamid, whose meritorious intention to avenge the injuries of the Arabs of the eastern principalities was further justified by the fact that Lorca and Murcia both owed him allegiance—the one by right of inheritance, the other by the title of voluntary submission—and could consequently demand his protection, having assembled his army, which included the Almoravides whom Yusuf had placed under his command, began his march towards Murcia.

But the expedition, commenced with overweening confidence and vainglorious boasts of success, ended in disgrace and failure. The presages declared by the astrologers to be favorable proved delusive. In the first encounter with the Christians, three thousand of the soldiers of Seville were cut to pieces by one-tenth of that number of the enemy. The invasion of Murcia was productive of nothing advantageous. The Berbers of Yusuf, ashamed of the pusillanimity of their allies, sympathized with their adversaries; the designs of Motamid were regularly communicated to the officials of the enemy; and the Prince of Seville, alarmed by the mutinous clamors of his followers, abandoned the enterprise in disgust.

It was now evident that the Christian power was firmly established in the East, and that the unaided resources of the Moslems were unable to overturn it. All eyes were again turned towards the court of Morocco, and emissaries of the cities affected by the curse of Christian brigandage importuned with repeated solicitations the intervention of the redoubtable Sultan of Africa. The latter, however, while receiving these petitions with courtesy, awaited the action of some one high in authority. At length the exhortations of the faquis, who saw with horror the encroachments of the infidel and the consequent peril of their order, prevailed upon Motamid himself to assume the office of representative of the religious and political interests of the disheartened Moslems of Spain. Yusuf welcomed the royal ambassador with every token of respect; he promised immediate compliance with his request; and, his preparations completed, he again appeared in Andalusia at the head of a well-appointed army.

The siege of Aledo was formed, but, as the place was impregnable to escalade, it was found necessary to reduce it by siege, a proceeding whose delay could not fail to operate to the injury of the allies, impatient of discipline and unaccustomed to the monotonous and inactive routine of the camp. Acting under the instruction of their masters, the partisans of Yusuf, who abounded among the Spanish Moslems, promoted by every resource of intrigue the aims of the ambitious Sultan. His following, especially since his triumph over the infidels, was formidable in numbers and influence. The great body of the nation, taxed and re-taxed, alternately raided by Christians and robbed by collectors of the revenue, oppressed with arbitrary impositions, their privacy invaded, their families insulted, their children enslaved, their property destroyed, were willing, in sheer desperation, to welcome any change as a blessing. The government, which they paid so dearly to maintain, was not able to protect them from outrage for a single hour. In addition to this numerous body of partisans, Yusuf could calculate on the support of the kadis, the muftis, the faquis, and the imams,—all of the subordinate officers of the government, all of the ecclesiastical guides of the people. These two classes regarded the ignorant and fanatical Sultan almost in the light of a Mussulman saint. The ministers of religion especially, whose material interests were at stake in the struggle impending between Moslem tyranny and Christian persecution, were among the most ardent supporters of a change of dynasty. Their admiration was rewarded, and in part created, by the attentive reverence with which Yusuf listened to their admonitions and adopted their counsels. On the other side were the philosophers and the poets, the scientific and literary society of the various capitals, still animated by the intellectual principle which had long been the boast and glory of the khalifate. As a rule, the lords of the various principalities were then, and had been, almost without exception, generous patrons of literary genius. The courts of Seville, Malaga, Almeria, Murcia, and Toledo were inspired by the example of their once celebrated prototype, Cordova. Freedom of opinion was indulged without restraint. The inconsistencies and vices of the theologians were held up to public derision by satirical poets amidst the applause of sympathetic and delighted audiences. The atheistical doctrines maintained by the philosophers with all the resources of learning and eloquence were the scandal and aversion of the orthodox and fanatical believer. The polished Andalusians ridiculed without mercy the blunders and illiteracy of Yusuf. He was unable to express himself fluently in Arabic; indeed, he was scarcely familiar with the rudiments of that tongue. The similies and rhetorical beauties of poetical diction he could neither understand nor enjoy. Like most uneducated persons he was profoundly superstitious, a failing by which his religious counsellors in case their expectations should be realized would not be slow to profit. In his eyes, the opinions of the faquis were oracular; and the promotion of this caste to the practical control of the government boded no good to the favorites of royalty, whose scornful speeches rankled in the minds of the objects of their sarcasm and contempt. A large body of respectable citizens—merchants, farmers, artificers—joined with the philosophers and the wits in opposition to the establishment of an African dynasty. Long before the fall of the khalifate,—a catastrophe not without reason imputed to Berber agency,—that name had been a term of reproach. Savage mercenaries from beyond the strait had repeatedly sacked the capital; had destroyed the magnificent cities of Medina-al-Zahrâ and Zahira; had spread desolation through every province of Andalusia; had swept away forever the proud evidences of a civilization which had been the glory of Europe for centuries. A series of disastrous civil wars had been the consequence of the attempts of these odious foreigners to establish, at the expense of the legitimate proprietors of the Peninsula, a vexatious and intolerable tyranny. Such were the conflicting factions whose machinations were carried on in the face of the enemy before the walls of Aledo.

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.

The division of the Castilian territory into so many parts, each claimed by numerous pretenders, was favorable to the independence of captains who could command the support of a strong body of followers. Under such circumstances, the royal power could not be centralized or exerted with effect. While feudalism, in the strictest acceptation of the term, never obtained in the Spanish monarchy,—and it was not until the middle of the thirteenth century that the power of the nobles began to antagonize that of the crown,—an analogous system of protection and service was generally recognized by the laws as controlling the relations of vassal and suzerain, a condition, indeed, almost inevitable in the early stages of civilized society. The leaders who had renounced these obligations, or were outlawed for crime, constituted a formidable element of discord in the Peninsula. They styled themselves “lords,” but they differed from highwaymen only in that they exercised on a larger scale and with greater impunity the popular occupation of robbery. They constructed their castles on isolated and inaccessible eminences, whence they could discover from afar the approach of danger or the welcome appearance of the rich and unprotected traveller. Needy adventurers and proscribed criminals of every nation and of every religion enlisted under their banners. Prototypes of the Italian condottieri, their swords and their services were for sale to the highest bidder. When unemployed and thrown upon their own resources, they plundered indiscriminately without regard to the nationality, religion, or calling of their victims. A successful freebooter often commanded an army of thousands of desperadoes. The most popular and renowned of these outlaws, in an age when judicial restrictions and regal authority were subordinated to military force, was Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar, the Campeador.

The latter having incurred the hatred of Alfonso VI. on account of the degradation of that monarch when forced to purge himself of complicity in the death of his brother, which transaction the Cid was believed to have suggested, or, at all events, to have favored, and this prejudice having been aggravated by the alleged peculation of treasure and tribute intrusted to the Cid by Motamid, the offender was peremptorily banished from the realm of Castile. The disgraced partisan, after an ineffectual attempt to enter the service of the Count of Barcelona, applied for military command to the Emir of Saragossa. That principality was then governed by the martial and enlightened princes of the Beni-Hud, whose superiority over most of the other Moslem dynasties had been demonstrated by the pre-eminence of their literary accomplishments not less than by their renown in arms. For more than thirty years, Moctadir, the reigning sovereign, had been engaged in constant hostilities with his neighbors. In spite of the present unpropitious condition of his fortunes, the Cid was attended by a considerable number of followers, and his repeated experience with Christian mercenaries had taught Moctadir that the services of such allies were not to be despised. They were therefore received with every mark of distinction, and were mustered into the army. This accession proved a most valuable one to the Emir and his sons, among whom he soon afterwards divided his kingdom. The arms of Rodrigo were everywhere victorious. The partisan warfare by which the northern provinces of the Peninsula were incessantly afflicted was thoroughly adapted to the exercise of his malignant genius. His raids exceeded in boldness and success the most venturesome enterprises hitherto undertaken by the Moslems. His infidel comrades stood aghast at the atrocities committed by his soldiers,—at the wholesale butchery of defenceless captives, at the unblushing violation of solemn compacts, at the ingenuity of tortures devised to compel the discovery of treasure. The expeditions of Rodrigo were carried to the borders of France. He repeatedly routed the Catalans, the hereditary enemies of his patron. He captured the Count of Barcelona, an exploit which acquired for the Emirate of Saragossa great political advantages through the negotiation of a favorable treaty. He spread desolation far and wide through the territory of Aragon. The wealth derived from these predatory excursions was incredible. The Moorish prince regarded his ally with peculiar favor because of the impartiality he displayed in the collection of plunder. The vessels of the Christian altar were no more sacred in the eyes of this impious freebooter than the spoils of a Moslem castle. As a natural result of his achievements, his popularity among the Moslems of Saragossa exceeded that enjoyed by any other individual. On his return from a foray, the inhabitants of the capital received him with acclamations that might well arouse the jealous envy of the sovereign.

The oppression of Valencia by bands of lawless soldiers of fortune and brigands had been probably more severe than that endured by any other province of the Peninsula. But the rapacity and fierceness of these troublesome guests were now to be aggravated by the presence and the counsels of a leader experienced in every device of warfare and extortion. The opulence of Valencia and the presence of many of his countrymen as the nominal guards of Kadir attracted the Cid to that region, where his pre-eminent talents for intrigue and villany soon gave him a decided ascendant over all competitors. He plundered the defenceless inhabitants under pretence of punishing rebellion. He extorted great sums from the rich ostensibly for the support of the government. No class was exempt from his ruinous perquisitions. Even the clergy were forced to surrender their treasures. He unblushingly assumed the actual direction of affairs which were administered in the name of the Prince of Valencia; and as a compensation for his valuable services appropriated from the provincial treasury every month the enormous sum of ten thousand pieces of gold.

The Cid had long coveted the possession of Valencia. That delightful province, which, under the temperate zone and in the enjoyment of an equable and salubrious climate, yields with lavish bounty the choicest productions of every clime, had been the prey of many successive adventurers. The richness of its agricultural resources, the variety and frequency of its harvests, the excellence of its fruits, the profits of its commerce, the beauty of its women, imparted to that highly favored region a peculiar charm in the eyes of the profligate soldier of fortune. The government of Kadir, sustained by Castilian mercenaries, had been the scourge of the land. Wealthy nobles had been impoverished by the exactions of the usurper. The Jews, at first a most profitable source of revenue, had been driven away by persecution. Extensive districts of inexhaustible fertility had been entirely abandoned. The tyranny of the government, the depredations of the mercenaries and the brigands, made property so insecure that rich estates were disposed of for trifling sums by their frightened owners, and the great quantity of land thrown upon the market caused it to continually depreciate in value. The invasion of the Almoravides was followed by the withdrawal of the Castilians from Valencia, and the decisive action of Zallaca relieved the apprehensions of the people of that kingdom from present danger of interference by the Christians. The opportunity for relief was too favorable to be overlooked. Every vassal and tributary of Kadir either declared his independence or placed himself under the protection of some friendly neighbor. The defenceless condition of that prince and the encouragement of disaffected citizens impelled Mondhir, Lord of Denia, to besiege his capital with a strong force of Arabs and Catalans. Kadir, driven to extremity, sent an envoy to conclude an alliance with Mostain, Emir of Saragossa. The latter, while expressing the greatest sympathy for the Prince of Valencia and declaring his intention to relieve him at once from his danger, was at the same time engaged in negotiations with the Cid with a view to despoiling Kadir of his kingdom. By the terms of this agreement, the capital and the province were to be delivered to the Emir and the plunder of every description was to be the reward of the Cid. Mondhir, unable to contend with such formidable antagonists, hastened to raise the siege at their approach. The Prince of Valencia, while profuse in his expression of gratitude, refused to comply with the provisions of the treaty he had concluded with Mostain, being sure of the neutrality of the Cid, which he had secretly purchased with gifts of enormous value. Mostain, having thus rendered an important service to an ungrateful and perfidious ally, returned in a rage to his capital.

The unexampled duplicity of the Cid was now manifested in his overtures to different rulers whose interests he declared his readiness to promote, but all of whom he was equally willing to betray for the accomplishment of his own designs. He represented to the rival monarchs, Mondhir and Mostain, that he would co-operate with either, at any time, in besieging Valencia. Then he sent an embassy to Alfonso, renewing his allegiance and promising him not only the dominions of Kadir, but also those of the other two Moslem princes whose hospitality and confidence he constantly enjoyed and abused. Notwithstanding their repeated experience of his perfidy, these monarchs were led by their fears and their aspirations to be again deceived by the Cid. It was not strange, however, that his support should have been eagerly solicited by every sovereign. No soldier made war with such ruthless barbarity. When he took a city not one stone was left upon another. No commander enjoyed such prestige. His consent had been necessary to secure the accession of the King of Castile. His arms were regarded as invincible. He had enriched the city of Saragossa with the plunder of its enemies. The horrible crimes he had committed made his name a bugbear wherever it was known, and had greatly dimmed the lustre of his renown. His followers numbered three thousand well-equipped veterans, a force superior to that controlled by any Moorish prince, and fully equal, man for man, to the vaunted chivalry of Castile.

Having received assurances of the favorable disposition of Alfonso, the Cid returned to the court of that monarch, who restored to him his estates and presented him with a commission by which he was invested with all the territory he might be able to conquer from the Moslems, subject only to the obligations of vassalage. The presence of the most famous military chieftain in Spain at the Castilian court produced great enthusiasm. He received alike the congratulations of the King, the compliments of the nobility, and the servile homage of the multitude. The adventurous youth of the monarchy hastened to enlist under his banner, and when he again advanced into the enemy’s country his command had increased to seven thousand men. During his absence, Mostain had renounced his alliance, and in company with Berenger, Count of Barcelona, had formed the siege of Valencia. The approach of the Castilians caused the abandonment of the enterprise, and the Cid, as has been previously mentioned, established a military protectorate over that kingdom. Summoned by Alfonso to assist in raising the siege of Aledo, his dilatory proceedings aroused suspicions of collusion with the enemy, and his indignant sovereign confiscated his property and estates and cast his family into prison. The latter were finally liberated, and the Cid, released from all responsibility to superior or ally and in command of an army of devoted followers, was free to prosecute without interference his atrocious schemes of oppression and rapine. This great force was now afforded the congenial employment of ravaging the provinces of Eastern Spain. The valleys of Valencia, Xativa, Tortosa were pillaged without mercy. In the fertile districts of Orihuela, outside of the city itself, not a single habitation, not even a wall, was spared. The Count of Barcelona was again beaten in a fiercely contested battle, and, taken prisoner with five thousand of his troops, was only able to secure his release by acknowledging himself the vassal of his conqueror. The power of the Cid now increased apace. Without a court, or even a fixed residence, he assumed the manners and displayed the arrogance of an independent potentate. The weaker Moslem states, unable to contend with success against his arms, purchased his forbearance by the payment of a ruinous tribute. Valencia, Segorbe, Liria, Almenara, Xerica, Alpuente, Olacau, Murviedro, Albarracin were included among his dependencies. Thousands of Mussulmans served under the banner of the most relentless enemy of their race. The family of Mondhir entreated him to assume the guardianship of the infant heir of that prince. From these sources he received an annual revenue of two hundred and twenty-five thousand pieces of gold,—three million two hundred thousand dollars,—a sum indicative of the vast wealth still possessed by provinces long subject to the ills of extortion, pillage, and depopulation, as well as of the power of a suzerain who, without the prestige of royal birth or the support of an established government, was able to levy and collect it. An expedition against the Moors of Granada, undertaken some time afterwards by Alfonso, ended unfortunately for the Christians, and the failure was, as usual, attributed to the treachery of the Cid. An ineffectual attempt was made to arrest him, and the King of Castile, assisted by a formidable fleet of four hundred vessels furnished by the Genoese and Pisans, his allies, proceeded to revenge his offended dignity by a determined attack on Valencia by sea and land. The Cid being at that time at Saragossa, and unable to enter or to defend the city which he already considered as his own, made a destructive raid into the territory of Alfonso, who was reduced to the necessity of withdrawing his forces to protect his own dominions. He sustained no inconsiderable loss by this proceeding of his rebellious vassal in the utter devastation of the country which marked his progress, as well as in the ruin of the populous city of Logroño, which was stormed and burnt to the ground by the army of Rodrigo. The abandonment of the siege and the absence of the Cid inspired the people of Valencia with the desire to again place that kingdom under Moslem rule. Ibn-Djahhaf, the principal kadi, aspired to emulate the example of Abul-Kasim-Mohammed, who, from the same office, had arisen to the high position of virtual ruler of Seville. The uncertain temper of their sovereign, himself an usurper and controlled by men foreign to the country and enemies to its religion, the distress arising from the incessantly interrupted operations of agriculture and trade, the onerous financial burdens imposed by caprice and injustice, the intolerable insults of the Christian soldiery, who habitually treated them as inferiors and slaves, had more than once driven the exasperated inhabitants to the verge of revolution. Now, encouraged by the exhortations of a man of such prominence as Ibn-Djahhaf, they eagerly welcomed the opportunity for revenge and independence. A picked body of Almoravides was quietly admitted into the city; the people rose in arms; the palace was sacked; Kadir escaped in the disguise of a woman, only to be taken soon afterwards and beheaded; and a Council of State, composed of nobles and modelled after the one which had formerly administered the government of Cordova with such remarkable success, was instituted. The authority of this august body was somewhat hampered, however, by the claims of the Almoravide commander, Abu-Nasr, who intimated that he would hold the city for his sovereign, as well as by the ridiculous pretensions of the Kadi, who assumed all the credit of the revolution, and whose incapacity became the more glaring when observed in connection with his theatrical postures and his feeble imitation of the dignity and attributes of royalty.

The Cid did not leave the new government long unmolested. His approach was announced by the flames and smoke of burning villages, and by the headlong flight of thousands of peasants who came pouring into Valencia. That lovely city was soon surrounded by a wide belt of blackness and desolation. Everything indicative of the bounty of nature or the ingenuity and prosperity of man was ruthlessly swept away. The settlements for miles around the capital were given to the torch. The numerous mills which lined the banks of the Guadalaviar, the villas of the wealthy citizens and the nobles, the boats, magazines, and warehouses were reduced to ashes. The suburbs were stormed and taken. Then the Valencians, without prospect of relief, opened negotiations with the Cid. Their overtures were received with favor; the Almoravide garrison retired; the former monthly tribute was renewed; and the city once more recognized the authority of the Castilian adventurer. But the Almoravide Sultan was not willing to abandon without a struggle such a rich prize as the kingdom of Valencia. News soon reached the capital that a powerful force was on the march to reduce it. The domination of the hated Berber seemed preferable to the insatiable rapacity of an infidel suzerain. The inhabitants rebelled, and the adherents and officers of the Cid were driven away. The gates were then closed; the supreme authority was vested in Ibn-Tahir by the tumultuous voice of the people; and the latter awaited with anxiety the arrival of the Almoravides. The Cid, who during the sedition was domiciled in one of the suburban palaces of the kings of Valencia, while powerless to prevent the defection of the city, was still able to retard the approach of the enemy. He caused the bridges to be broken down, and the dikes having been cut, the country, which for leagues had recently presented the appearance of a garden, was now transformed into a lake. Only a narrow causeway was left through the waters, and this approach could be easily defended by a handful of determined men against a numerous army.

These vigorous measures produced an unexpected result. Not willing to incur the hazard of an attack, and their provisions falling short, the Almoravides, whose watch-fires could already be seen from the towers of the city, retired. Dismay and terror now filled the minds of the Valencians. Unable to protect themselves, they knew not where to turn for aid. Ibn-Tahir, the chief magistrate, did not possess the talents necessary to inspire confidence in such a trying emergency, and his unpopularity reflected upon his family. The tribe of the Beni-Tahir was one of the oldest, the wealthiest, the most honorable in Valencia. But these considerations for public favor could not preserve it from the effects of the incompetency of its chief and the unreasoning fury of the multitude. Ibn-Tahir was deposed, and Ibn-Djahhaf, who, for his own ends, had diligently encouraged the prevailing discontent, was raised to power. A mob attacked the palace of the Beni-Tahir, and the members of that noble family were stoned, insulted, subjected to the most humiliating indignities, and finally sent in chains to the camp of the Cid. The latter offered his protection to Ibn-Djahhaf on the same terms upon which it had formerly been accorded to Kadir, but as he exacted the delivery of his son as a hostage, a condition which the suspicious Arab refused to accede to, negotiations were abruptly terminated. The army of the Cid now closely invested the city, which, unprepared for a siege, was soon exposed to the most frightful of calamities. The sufferings of the inhabitants became intense. The increasing famine caused the most disgusting substances, the most repulsive animals, to be eagerly devoured. Men fought for refuse in the turbid current of the sewers. A rat, esteemed a great delicacy, could hardly be procured for a piece of gold. The wealthy could still obtain a small amount of grain, which was jealously hoarded by its owners and only disposed of in small quantities and at fabulous prices. An ounce of barley sold readily for three dinars. When this supply was exhausted, they endeavored to sustain their failing strength with pieces of leather, leaves, bark, and such vegetation as could be gleaned in the gardens and court-yards of their mansions. The poor had no resource but cannibalism. In the midst of the universal distress, Ibn-Djahhaf, apparently unmindful of the future, maintained the state of a monarch. Within his gates there was no evidence of the want that was hourly driving thousands to despair and death, no sign of approaching retribution. His palace was the daily scene of literary discussions, of dances, of intoxication. A crowd of parasites enjoyed his bounty. The subsistence of the court was secured by the plunder of private granaries. The property of the dead and dying was confiscated. Remonstrance against this tyranny was punished with imprisonment. People fell and expired with hunger in the streets. Great crowds seeking an opportunity of escape constantly besieged the gates of the city. Those who succeeded in reaching the Christian lines were either butchered or sold as slaves. Humanity had no place in the policy of mediæval warfare, especially when conducted by banditti. Experience had demonstrated that a prisoner in the last stages of famine was available for neither service nor ransom, and that a speedy death was the most natural and efficacious method of disposing of a captive in whose maintenance there was no profit and whose days were already numbered. The weakest and most emaciated of these wretches were therefore killed at once without ceremony. The degenerate Moslems of the neighboring provinces, who served in the army of the Cid, felt no compunctions in profiting by the servitude of their countrymen, and few could withstand the temptation of securing a slave for a trifle. Traders from Constantinople, Damascus, and Alexandria were always present in the camps of the armies which were contending for the possession of the Peninsula, and to these such of the Valencian refugees whose resources had in a measure exempted them from the misery of their townsmen were sold, to be again exposed in the slave-markets of the East. The general suffering finally became so great that the fugitives, enfeebled by hunger, were not able to traverse the short distance between the city and the camp,—the boundaries of famine and servitude or death. The city was not so closely invested that communication was closed with the besiegers or with the adjoining principalities. Ibn-Djahhaf attempted, in vain, to secure relief by the most liberal promises to the Emir of Saragossa and the King of Castile. They distrusted his sincerity, and, above all, they feared the vengeance of the Cid, now the greatest potentate in Spain. His emissaries, aided by sympathizers among the inhabitants and the garrison, seemed to have entered the gates of Valencia at will. By the unsparing use of money and promises, they openly endeavored to advance the interests of their commander. Several conspiracies to overthrow Ibn-Djahhaf were detected and punished. Representations concerning the weakness and disaffection of the garrison induced the Cid to attempt to take the city by storm. The plan miscarried; the Christians were repulsed with great loss, and their leader himself narrowly escaped capture. Fearing the intervention of the Sultan of Africa, the Cid now had recourse to an expedient so infamous that it would hardly be countenanced by barbarians. He issued a proclamation that all the Valencians in his camp must return within the walls or be burned alive, and that the same fate was thereafter destined for every refugee without exception. Funeral pyres were raised in places within full view of the ramparts, whence the citizens could easily see the tortures and hear the shrieks of their relatives and countrymen. This cruel edict made no distinction of age or sex, and children and young girls, whose charms had been impaired or destroyed by privation and hunger, were ruthlessly cast into the flames along with the infirm and the aged. Eighteen of these victims underwent this dire penalty of misfortune at once, and not a day elapsed without the Valencians being called upon to witness the dreadful human sacrifice. This relentless policy, aided by the increasing destitution and misery of the inhabitants, soon accomplished its end. A truce for fifteen days was agreed upon, followed on June fifteenth, 1094, by a capitulation, whose terms, under the circumstances, were most favorable to the Moors. The authority, both civil and military, was, by its provisions, vested in the Moslem partisans of the Cid; the existing laws were to be preserved; the mosques were to remain in possession of the votaries of Islam, who were guaranteed the unmolested exercise of their worship; the property of the citizens was to remain inviolate; and the garrison was to consist of Christian residents of Valencia. For a time the conditions of the treaty were strictly observed and the fair promises of the conqueror fulfilled. But, as soon as he felt himself secure, the contract—which had been concluded with the sanction of the clergy and confirmed by the solemn ceremonies of religion—was repudiated, and the open infraction of its provisions became notorious. The Castilians occupied the citadel, where also the Cid took up his residence. The houses of the wealthy citizens were searched for concealed hoards of gold and jewels. Upon the most trifling pretext—the suspicion of magic or the escape of a slave—the privacy of the Valencian nobles was suddenly invaded by a band of ferocious men-at-arms. The estates, whose restoration to their owners had been promised in a public assemblage of the people, were suffered to remain in the hands of those whose rapacity or injustice had secured them. Finally, the people were assured that their city belonged to the Cid by the right of conquest, and that he and his subordinates would, for the future, preside in the tribunals of justice, impose taxes, collect tribute, and coin money. All who were not willing to accede to these conditions were at liberty to depart, without, however, taking with them a single article of their personal property. So many refused to trust themselves to the caprices of a ruler who had given such an exhibition of perfidy that two days elapsed before the long and melancholy procession had passed out of the city. Their places were supplied by Christian families collected from the neighboring states, who, applauding the valor and piety of the Cid, occupied, with unconcealed exultation, the elegant mansions and lovely gardens of the Moorish exiles.

The tranquillity of the city being now assured, the Cid turned his attention to Ibn-Djahhaf. He was horribly tortured to obtain a statement of his wealth, which a diligent exploration of his palaces and of those of his friends subsequently proved to be false. All the possessions of those who had ever in any way befriended the former master of Valencia were promptly confiscated. Then the Cid, who had planned for his illustrious prisoner the most agonizing of deaths, caused a pit to be dug in the principal square of the city and heaped about with fagots; and Ibn Djahhaf, buried in it to the shoulders, was slowly roasted to a crisp. The female members of his family, destined for the same fate, were saved, with great difficulty, by the entreaties of his Moorish subjects and the remonstrances of the Christian soldiery, who, although daily participants in scenes of diabolical cruelty, could not view unmoved the commission of such a crime. No such exemption could be obtained, however, for the slaves, the friends, and the literary associates of the unfortunate Kadi. They were all burned on great funeral pyres in sight of the citizens and the army. In the infamous record subsequently made by the Spaniards in the Old and the New World, among the awful atrocities perpetrated by Alva, Cortés, and Pizarro, none surpassed in cold-blooded brutality the conduct of the Cid at the siege and capture of Valencia.

His ambition, far from being satisfied with the acquisition of one of the richest provinces of the Peninsula, was only stimulated to greater exertions. He extended his dominions on every side. He took Murviedro, and, despoiling its inhabitants, sold them at auction, after having made and broken a treaty similar to the one negotiated at Valencia. His power was so great that kings did not disdain to treat with him on an equality; and Pedro I. of Aragon solicited his friendship in terms which indicated the fear with which he was regarded by his neighbors. At last his army was utterly routed by the Almoravide general Ibn-Ayesha, near Xativa, and heart-broken, the bold leader, who had been for so long the idol of the Christians and the terror of the infidel, was unable to survive the disaster. For two years his courageous widow, Ximena, succeeded in repulsing the Almoravides, but at last, compelled to abandon her position, Valencia was evacuated by the Castilian amazon and set on fire.

Such was the career and such the end of an adventurer whose influence and prestige often rose superior to those of royalty itself; who, by a perverted sentiment of enthusiasm, has passed into history as the exemplar of chivalry and the pattern of every martial excellence; who, though the sacrilegious despoiler of cathedrals and monasteries, is yet revered by the Church as one of her most devoted champions, whose brutality is applauded as zeal, whose perfidy is held up to public admiration as the highest development of worldly wisdom, and who to-day enjoys in the minds of his vainglorious countrymen a consideration not inferior to that accorded to the most venerated saint in the Roman Catholic calendar. Ecclesiastical fictions and popular ignorance prolonged the influence of the Cid far beyond the term of his natural life. The absurd legend which recounted the rout of Moorish armies at the sight of his corpse lashed to the saddle and borne at the head of crusading squadrons on many occasions, in subsequent times, inspired the Castilian chivalry with fresh devotion to their cause. The fables attributed to his charger Babieca and his sword Tizona—which, in imitation of Arabic custom, had each its history—were related with awe in every peasant’s hut on the plain and in the sierra. A sacred character attached to his remains. They worked innumerable miracles. They confounded the designs of unbelievers. Great virtue invested fragments of his coffin and of his garments. They were powerful talismans against danger in battle. They foiled the plots of conspirators. And yet there were few pious persons in the most superstitious age who did not possess far better claims to the attributes of a saint. The Cid was for the greater part of his life a rebel. He defied and oppressed his king. He served the Mohammedans, and, as their ally, invaded the Christian kingdom of France. Even in the poems intended to glorify his exploits he is represented as ridiculing the Pope. He burned churches and robbed the clergy. His perfidy became proverbial. He betrayed everybody. The barbarities he committed without compunction appalled even his own followers, long accustomed to the remorseless butchery of the helpless and the old. His cruelty was incredible. Of the virtues of patriotism, mercy, forgiveness, he knew nothing. Even his orthodoxy was justly liable to criticism. He was more indulgent to the infidel than, in the eyes of the zealots, became a true believer. He maintained a harem. Moslems formed a large proportion of his command. It was even suspected that he was not buried with the rites of the Church. In 1541, when his tomb was opened, his body was found wrapped in a Moorish mantle embroidered with arabesques and Arabic inscriptions. Nevertheless, the universal reverence in which he was held by the Spanish people, clergy and laity alike, induced Philip II., the most austere of royal bigots, to demand his canonization at the hands of the Pope, a ceremony which was only prevented by political complications necessitating the sudden recall of the Spanish ambassador from Rome.

The occupation of Valencia was the last achievement in the life of Yusuf. With the exception of the city of Toledo, and the principality of Saragossa soon to succumb to the arms of his son, the entire realm of Moorish Spain was subject to his authority. This great conquest had been accomplished in less than three years. His empire was equal in magnitude to those of the Ommeyades and Abbasides combined. The entire region of Northern Africa, from Tunis to the Atlantic, obeyed his edicts. His dominions embraced an area more than ten times that of the Western Khalifate during the era of its greatest prosperity. Even the early princes of Islam, upon whom had descended the mantle of the Prophet, had not claimed such a vast jurisdiction or wielded such despotic authority. Every Friday his name was repeated, for the homage and the prayers of the devout, from the pulpits of three hundred thousand mosques. The provinces of Al-Maghreb, as well as those of Spain, had been seriously affected by wars and revolutions; their cities had been repeatedly plundered; their agricultural population had been greatly reduced by enslavement and starvation. Yet such was the wealth of the empire of Yusuf that, notwithstanding the expenditures of a magnificent court and an imperfectly regulated system of taxation, he was enabled to leave to his successor a treasure of seven and a half million pounds’ weight of silver and a hundred and twenty-five thousand pounds’ weight of gold. No less than thirteen princes, who had inherited or usurped the titles of sovereignty, acknowledged him as their lord. Under none of the khalifs of any dynasty had the burdens of the people seemed so light. The necessaries of life were cheaper than they had been within the memory of man. Bread was sold at a nominal price, and for a trifle an armful of the choicest vegetables and fruits could be purchased. The large majority of his subjects paid no taxes. The ordinary expenses of the government were defrayed by the tribute of Christians and Jews; the extraordinary demands were readily met by the spoils of war. Universal demoralization had, however, rendered a lasting reform impracticable among the antagonistic states of the Peninsula accustomed for generations to the prevalence of military excesses and anarchy. The hopes of public happiness and of future security, which at times were entertained by the people, were in the highest degree illusory. Theological influence, fatal to every government, soon overturned the gigantic but unstable fabric of Yusuf. With him and his successors the power of the faquis was paramount. They dictated every measure, disposed of every office, shared in every contribution. Their rapacity and tyranny increased with their opportunities. Even without foreign interference, the African monarchy must within a few years have fallen to pieces. The deterioration of the Berber soldiery was so rapid and complete after its exposure to the temptations and luxury of Andalusia that Ali was compelled to enlist, for his own security, recruits from the infidel populations of Europe. Even the Greeks of Constantinople, the most superstitious of Christians, the most perfidious of men, were to be found in the armies of the natural enemy of the Church and the reformer of the Mohammedan religion. The government officials were selected by the women of the harem, who sold lucrative employments to the highest bidder or shared the profits of extortion, while the monarch prayed and fasted or listened to the exhortations of the clergy. The Almoravide empire fell with the same rapidity that was so conspicuous in its foundation. Not many years were to elapse before its African domain was to be usurped by a race of savage fanatics, and the kingdoms of Spain, with one exception, be permanently subjected to the sceptre of the dreaded and execrated Christian.

The years of Yusuf, prolonged far beyond the ordinary term of human existence, included a full century, three ordinary generations of man. His active life, his abstemious habits, his freedom from those vices which waste the body and enfeeble the mind, enabled him to retain to the last the enjoyment of all his faculties. Although pitiless in the treatment of his enemies, it is related of him that during his entire reign, through motives of mistaken humanity, he never signed the death-sentence of a single criminal. Small indulgence was shown to the two tributary sects which, under the law of Islam, were permitted the exercise of their worship. From both, the contributions established by the successors of Mohammed were rigorously exacted. The Christians were prohibited from making proselytes. All their churches of recent erection were destroyed. A tradition of obscure origin, long current in the Peninsula, was made the excuse for a new and ingenious tax upon the Jews. It was said that the Hebrews had promised Mohammed that if the Messiah did not come before the year 500 of the Hegira their nation would become Mussulman. The time had not yet expired, but Yusuf imposed upon the Jews of his dominions the payment of an immense sum, by which they and their descendants were released from an act of apostasy which they had never contemplated, based upon a tradition probably invented by some idle and mendacious theologian.

The phenomenal rise of the Almoravide empire, its marvellous opulence and apparent stability, the suddenness of its collapse, demonstrate the imperfect cohesion of the ill-balanced and misdirected elements of Moslem society. The Arab and the Berber character, never voluntarily amenable to the salutary restrictions of law and civilization, were now wedded to that civil disorder and habitual freedom from control whose indulgence offered a not imperfect resemblance to the conditions of the predatory and independent life of the Desert. The career of Yusuf was largely modelled after that of Mohammed. The reforms he instituted were productive of temporary peace and of a delusive prosperity, but the Spanish Moslems had become too degraded to appreciate the blessings of tranquillity and order; and their princes, while fully alive to the impending peril of Christian supremacy, unwisely permitted their private feuds and personal prejudices to contribute directly to the subversion of both their authority and their religion.

The sceptre of Yusuf descended to his son Ali, a young man of twenty-three years, whose martial aspirations were constantly subordinated to his religious duties and to his predilection for the society of the clergy. The seat of government, as in the preceding reign, remained at Morocco. The capitals of the various Spanish states and provinces were held either by devoted vassals of the crown or by military governors of established reputation and unquestionable loyalty. Ali was scarcely seated upon the throne before the citizens of Saragossa, weary of the tyranny of the Beni-Hud, solicited his protection; and that city, the key of the valley of the Ebro and the last of the great capitals of Moorish Spain to surrender its independence, was incorporated, without bloodshed, into the colossal Almoravide empire.

The possession of the territory once occupied by the khalifate did not satisfy the restless spirit of Ali, whose policy aspired to so vast and impracticable a scheme as the total annihilation of the Christian power. His ambition was seconded, and indeed largely prompted, by his zeal, which impelled him to the prosecution of incessant hostilities against the enemies of Islam. The occupation of Saragossa by Temim, the son of Yusuf and the governor of Valencia, was followed by an invasion of the dominions of Alfonso VI. and the siege of Ucles. A Castilian army sent to relieve that fortress encountered the Moslems a short distance from its walls. A bloody battle was fought; and the Christians, who far outnumbered their adversaries, underwent a crushing defeat. Sancho, the favorite son of the King by his Moorish wife or concubine, Zayda,—who was the daughter of Motamid, formerly Prince of Seville,—was killed in the action, and the grief of Alfonso was so intense that he only survived his bereavement a few months. To his genius as a soldier and a ruler has been justly attributed a large share of the greatness of the Castilian monarchy. He traversed the territory of his Moslem enemies from one extremity of the Peninsula to the other. In the course of his long and eventful reign he won thirty-nine battles. Great in all the popular qualities of the time, his deeds made a deep and lasting impression on the national character of Spain.

The dissensions which followed the death of their sovereign seriously threatened the integrity of the kingdom. The activity of Temim carried dismay along the entire Christian frontier. Ocaña, Aurelia, Cuenca were again subjected to Moslem authority. The policy of Al-Mansur, which for a quarter of a century, without intermission, had maintained the Holy War, was renewed. Ali reinforced his brother with an army of a hundred thousand Africans, which, after desolating a large part of Castile, formed the siege of Toledo. Unable to make any impression upon that fortress, the invaders stormed and burned Talavera, Guadalajara, Madrid, and many other less important cities. Ibn-Abi-Bekr invaded Portugal and took Santarem and Lisbon. The remoteness of his capital, the restless and impulsive character of his subjects, the danger of sudden revolution, soon necessitated the return of Ali, whose enterprise could not be dignified by the name of a campaign, and was, in fact, nothing more than a gigantic foray. The number of Christian captives who followed in the train of his army exceeded any that had passed the strait since the invasion of Musa. Year after year the lieutenants of the Sultan carried their ravages into the enemy’s country. No quarter was given or expected in these expeditions. All prisoners not available as slaves were inhumanly butchered, and the women and children exhibited for sale in the markets of Al-Maghrab, Egypt, and Syria.

The loss of Alfonso VI. of Castile was compensated by the rise of another Alfonso, King of Aragon, surnamed from his fighting proclivities El Batallador. Under the guidance of his genius, the Christians began again to successfully arrest the progress of Moslem conquest. The line of fortresses along the frontier gradually fell into their hands. The great cities of Lerida and Saragossa were taken. In many fiercely contested engagements, the furious assaults of the Moslems were repulsed by the cool and determined courage of their adversaries. On the bloody field of Cutanda, in an effectual attempt to save the city of Calatayud, the Emir of Valencia left twenty thousand of his bravest soldiers. The tide once turned, the misfortunes of the Moslems followed each other in quick succession. The strongholds of the North were absorbed by the increasing power of the kingdom of Aragon. Portugal and much of the valley of the Douro, which had submitted to Yusuf, were again incorporated into the states of Castile. The decadent condition of his empire in the Peninsula provoked another raid from Ali, at the head of a great African army, with even less decisive results than had attended the former one. The incapacity of the sovereign, in his far-distant capital, to protect his subjects from the oppression of their governors, as well as to defend his frontiers from the encroachments of the enemy, became daily more apparent. The influence of the theologians, as might have been anticipated from the peculiar disposition of Ali, was paramount. The faquis and kadis were the true source of power, the dispensers of favor, the pitiless instruments of oppression and vengeance. They stood at the ear of every provincial magistrate and military commander,—officials whose ignorance exaggerated the knowledge of their unprincipled advisers,—and reaped the profits of spoliation and cruelty, while their dupes bore the odium of their flagrant and shameless injustice. Their intolerance arrayed them against all learning, even to the point of decrying the most accomplished scholars of their own, the Malikite, sect. No philosopher dared to openly entertain an heretical opinion. Poets, formerly accustomed to affluence, wandered about clothed in rags, and were constantly on the verge of starvation. The clerical and judicial harpies who controlled the administration secured the employment of Jews as farmers of the revenue, and divided with these inexorable collectors the fruits of their rapacity and extortion. In consequence of their rare opportunities, they soon became the richest class in Andalusia. Ibn-Hamden, the Kadi of Cordova, surpassed all of his brethren in wealth, his fortune being estimated at several million pieces of gold. Encouraged by their example and success, the Berber officers and soldiers robbed and persecuted the people, already driven to despair by the exactions of corrupt functionaries acting under the perverted authority of the law. They seized their property. They intruded upon their privacy in the unrestrained indulgence of lust and rapine. The wives and daughters of the most respected citizens could not appear in the streets without danger of insult and violation. In consequence of these abuses, the army became thoroughly demoralized, the soldiers refused to face an enemy, and it became necessary to enlist bands of mercenaries, gathered at random among the ports of the Mediterranean, to garrison the principal cities. No attention was paid to the remonstrances of the indignant and suffering victims. At length the revolutionary spirit of Cordova again asserted itself. The inhabitants rose, the Berbers were hemmed in and massacred, and not one of the obnoxious race who dared to face the fury of the mob survived. The appearance of Ali failed to awe the rebels, but the commencement of a siege soon brought them to terms. Aware of the provocations they had endured, the Sultan treated his seditious subjects with unusual leniency, requiring only the pecuniary reimbursement of such of their victims as had escaped with their lives and a liberal indemnity to the families of the dead. It was while at Cordova that Ali received the first intelligence of an insurrection in Africa, whose popularity and progress were of evil augury for the permanence of the already tottering Almoravide power.

CHAPTER XVIII
THE EMPIRE OF THE ALMOHADES
1121–1212

Rise of Abu-Abdallah, the Mahdi—His Character and Talents—He rebels against Ali—His Eventful Career—Abd-al-Mumen succeeds Him—Decline of the Almoravide Power in Spain—Raid of Alfonso of Aragon—Rout of Fraga—Death of Alfonso—Indecisive Character of the Campaigns in the War of the Reconquest—Progress of Abd-al-Mumen in Africa—Victories of the Almohades—Natural Hostility of Moor and Berber—Anarchy in the Peninsula—It is invaded by the Africans—Establishment of the Almohade Empire in Andalusia—Almeria taken by the Christians—Its Recapture by the Berbers—Death of Abd-al-Mumen—His Genius and Greatness—Accession of Yusuf—His Public Works—He organizes a Great Expedition—He dies and is succeeded by Yakub—The Holy War proclaimed—Battle of Alarcos—Effects of African Supremacy—Death of Yakub—The Giralda—Mohammed—He attempts the Subjugation of the Christians—Despair of the Latter—Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa—Utter Rout of the Almohade Army.

The proverbial instability of the tribes of Northern Africa, habitually dominated by the most abject superstition, the prey of successive generations of religious impostors, incapable of systematized civil organization, of moral consistency, of personal loyalty, was now to be again demonstrated by a revolution that, in the principal circumstances of its origin and progress, was almost the counterpart of the one preceding it, which had made the polished and intellectual population of Spain—justly proud of the traditions of the khalifate—tributary subjects of a foreign and barbaric potentate. As with every race brought suddenly in contact with the highest civilization without passing through the intermediate phases incident to the regular and predestined development of nations, the corruption and degeneracy of the Berbers advanced with amazing rapidity. Amidst the hitherto unknown allurements of luxury and vice, the primitive virtues of generosity, courage, and hospitality disappeared. The fetichism of the Desert was replaced by a spurious and absurd Mohammedan belief, which retained, as essential parts of its doctrine, the most objectionable and offensive principles of Paganism. The religious teachers of the people, more deeply contaminated than their disciples and closely allied with the Jews, whose worship and whose dogmas they held up to reprobation in public and connived at in secret, had become monsters of extortion, profligacy, and injustice. The martial tastes of Yusuf had not descended to his son, who daily exhibited, to the delight of the clergy and the astonishment of the people, the abasement of a devotee, an example sufficiently edifying in a saint but strangely unbecoming in a sovereign whose throne was sustained by arms, and whose subjects were accustomed to subsist by conquest and rapine. No faqui desirous of obtaining a reputation for piety prayed and fasted with more persistent regularity than Ali. The greater part of his time was passed in the mosque, and the administration, meanwhile, was usurped by the clergy and the ladies of the court. The direct intervention of women in public affairs was a practice heretofore unknown to the Moslem constitution. During the reign of Ali, however, the wives and concubines of great officials virtually controlled, by favor and purchase, the policy of the government, trafficked in appointments of the civil and military service, capriciously deposed high dignitaries, and pardoned brigands and other malefactors condemned for atrocious crimes. The contradictory mandates, and the uncertain execution of the laws resulting from the conflicting interests and the indecision of ambitious and corrupt females, produced inextricable confusion, and provoked the scorn and resentment of the people. In Spain, far removed from the capital of the empire, the prevalent disorder and oppression reached its culmination; and even constant familiarity with military abuses could not reconcile the citizens of the Andalusian capitals to the intolerable insolence of the Almoravide soldiery.

About this time there appeared in the African dominions of Ali a new reformer, half enthusiast, half charlatan, whose austerities and denunciations of the prevalent luxury and impiety of the age at once attracted the attention and inspired the reverence of the masses. His name was Abu-Abdallah; his origin—designated by an appellation referring to the calling of his father, a lamplighter in the mosque of his native village—was most humble; but nature had endowed him with talents which early marked him as a leader of men. His education, acquired in the famous schools of Cordova, Bagdad, and Cairo, was far superior to his rank, and, by assiduous study and extensive travel in foreign countries, he had amassed a vast fund of knowledge, and had obtained, even in the centres of Moslem learning, the reputation of an accomplished controversialist and theologian. A pupil of the great Al-Ghazzali, he had embraced with eagerness the doctrines of that renowned philosopher, whose work, branded as heterodox and impious by the clergy of Cordova, had been publicly consigned to the flames, and its possession made a cause of relentless persecution by the bigoted religious counsellors of Ali. The subsequent conduct of the reformer might suggest to an observant and unfriendly critic that this unfavorable reception of the dogmas of one of the most famous teachers of Islam had not a little influence in forming the opinions and determining the career of the ambitious young Berber student. His education completed, Abu-Abdallah returned to his home among the tribesmen of Masmoudah in the country of Sus. His travels and his studies, directed by a keen and vigorous intellect, had given him a profound insight into human nature, while the superiority of his literary attainments obtained for him the greatest respect from the simple and ignorant shepherds among whom his lot was cast. From the day of his return, he affected an air of mystery well calculated to impose upon a credulous and highly imaginative people. He assumed the title of Al-Mahdi, or The Leader, a word synonymous with Messiah, a personage whose advent has been predicted by the founders of almost every sect of Oriental origin. He declaimed with audacity and eloquence against the sins of the degenerate Moslems. In common with all reformers whose success demands a real or apparent exhibition of sanctity, his life afforded an edifying example of self-denial and of the practice of the most austere virtue. His garments were scanty and of the coarsest materials. His sole possessions consisted of a staff and a leathern bottle. Subsisting upon alms, and sleeping in the court-yards of the mosques, where, during the day, with impassioned oratory, he exhorted the wayward to repentance, he did not remain long in solitude. Crowds gathered to participate in his devotions and to enjoy the benefit of his prayers. The erratic genius of the Berber, impressed with an exhibition so congenial with its nature and actuated by the love of novelty, soon recognized in the holy man a guide whose inspiration was directly derived from heaven. Among the first of his disciples was a youth of distinguished lineage and unusual personal attractions, named Abd-al-Mumen, whom the Mahdi, as he was now universally called, selected as his councillor, and whose talents for war and executive ability, as soon became evident, were superior to those of any individual of his time. Accompanied by a small band of followers, the Mahdi advanced by easy stages to Morocco, the depravity of whose citizens he constantly represented as worthy of the severest punishment that could be inflicted by the wrath of an outraged Deity. It was not without reason that he denounced the vices of the great Almoravide capital. Although so recently founded, it already ranked with the most opulent, the most splendid, the most dissolute of the cities of the Mohammedan world. Its population had been gathered from three continents; its commerce extended from the frozen zone to countries far south of the equator; its profligate diversions equalled in their shamelessness and monstrous variety the proverbial abominations of ancient Carthage.

The first public act of the Mahdi after his arrival was one whose unparalleled audacity was admirably calculated to establish the sacredness of his pretended mission as far as the most distant frontiers of the empire. On one of the Fridays of the festival of Ramadhan, a great concourse had assembled in the principal mosque of the capital to await the coming of the Sultan. Before the royal cortége appeared, an emaciated figure, meanly clad and intoning in deep and solemn accents verses from the Koran, strode through the assemblage and seated itself, without ceremony, on the throne. The remonstrances of the attendants of the mosque produced no effect on the intruder, and even at the approach of Ali himself he retained his seat, while the entire congregation rose and stood reverently in the presence of their monarch. In the minds of devout Moslems, mental eccentricity and insanity are not infrequently considered evidences of divine inspiration; the most outrageous denunciations are received with humility by the greatest potentates; and, encouraged by impunity, the dervish and the santon, sure of the toleration of the sovereign and the applause of the multitude, do not hesitate to violate every feeling of decency and reverence in the prosecution of their schemes of imposture. The existence of this superstitious prejudice prevented the molestation of the Mahdi, whose reputation had preceded him, but whose person was as yet unknown to the inhabitants of Morocco. Not content with usurping his place, the audacious reformer even ventured, in scathing terms, to reprove the Sultan in the presence of the assembly, and warned him that if he did not correct the faults of his government and the vices of his subjects he would be speedily called upon to render an account of his neglect to God. The amazement and consternation of the Prince were only exceeded by the apprehensions of the people, who awaited, with equal anxiety, the accomplishment of a miracle or the outbreak of a revolution.

From that day the religious authority of the Mahdi was established throughout the African dominions of Ali. His audiences were numbered by thousands. Proselytes in vast multitudes assented to his doctrines, and his movements began to seriously occupy the attention of the government, whose officials saw with unconcealed dread his fast-increasing popularity and the effect which his harangues and his ostentatious asceticism were producing upon the capricious and easily deluded masses. He was examined by the ministers, some of whom advised his immediate execution, but, as he had hitherto confined himself to religious exhortations and had asserted no pretensions to the exercise of temporal sovereignty, the impolitic clemency of Ali, unmindful of the similar circumstances which had attended the elevation of his own family to power, dismissed, unharmed, the most dangerous enemy of his life and his throne. The lesson he had just been taught was not lost on the wary impostor, who, of all distinctions, coveted least the honors of martyrdom. He left the capital and repaired to Fez, where for a considerable period he kept himself in seclusion, but, through his devoted emissaries, still retaining and indeed increasing his influence over the ignorant populace, deeply impressed with the mystery that surrounded his movements as well as with the oracular messages with which he nourished the curiosity and stimulated the expectations of his followers. At length, without warning, he reappeared in the streets of Morocco. The enthusiastic welcome he received made it apparent that his popularity had been in no respect diminished during his absence. His insolence and his extravagance now became more offensive than ever. He denounced, in epithets conveying the greatest opprobrium, the public and private conduct of the monarch and his court. Assisted by his disciples, he seized the wine vessels in the bazaars and emptied their contents into the streets. The sight of a musical instrument roused him to fury and was the signal for its instant destruction, as well as for the maltreatment of the owner. His piety could not tolerate even the songs of mirth, and those who presumed to enjoy this harmless amusement in his hearing were speedily silenced with a shower of blows. The climax of impudence and outrage was attained when the Mahdi, having one day encountered in one of the public thoroughfares of the capital the sister of Ali, who, in compliance with the prevalent custom of the Moorish ladies of Africa and Spain, had discarded the veil, roundly abused her for this violation of the injunctions of the Prophet, and ended by precipitating her from her saddle into the gutter, to the horror and consternation of her numerous retinue. An offence of this flagrant character committed by any one unprotected by the influence of the grossest superstition would, under Oriental law, have been instantly punishable with death. But the reverence entertained for the sacred profession of the culprit, the general suspicion of his want of responsibility, and a fatal indifference to his rapidly increasing power suggested the imposition of an insignificant penalty, and the bold and reckless innovator was banished from the city. In obedience to the letter, if not to the spirit of his sentence, he betook himself to a neighboring cemetery, erected there a miserable hovel, and, surrounded by the significant memorials of the dead, began anew his prophesies of impending evil and his declamations against the vice and corruption of the dignitaries of the empire. The leniency with which his offences had been treated by the authorities was distorted by fear and fanaticism into persecution and injustice, and the violator of law was at once exalted into a martyr. The passions of the ignorant were then artfully aroused by representations that the life of their leader was threatened, and a bodyguard of fifteen hundred well-armed soldiers was organized to watch constantly over the safety of the self-styled Messenger of God. The Sultan now began to realize, when too late, the effects of his ill-timed indulgence. He sent a peremptory order for the Mahdi to leave the vicinity of the capital. The latter, alleging that he had already complied with the directions of his sovereign as indicated by the sentence of banishment, and feeling secure in the midst of his devoted adherents, at first declined to abandon his position; but, on learning that measures were already taken for his assassination, he fled in haste to the distant town of Tinamal, where he had disclosed his pretended mission. There, in the mosque, he first openly announced his claim to temporal power. A sympathetic audience was excited to frenzy by his mysterious predictions and his fervid eloquence; his claim to universal dominion as the Champion of the Faith and the restorer of the purity of Islam was received with vociferous applause by the multitude, and in the midst of the turmoil Abd-al-Mumen and ten of his companions, rising and drawing their swords, swore eternal fealty to their leader. Their example was followed by the entire congregation; and thus, a second time, in the centre of the Sahara was inaugurated a Mohammedan reformation the precursor of a gigantic but unsubstantial and impermanent empire. This decisive step had no sooner been taken than the Mahdi proceeded to organize his government by the appointment of civil and military officials. Abd-al-Mumen was made vizier; the ten proselytes who had sworn allegiance in the mosque were united in a Supreme Council; and the two subordinate bodies, composed respectively of fifty and seventy disciples, were charged with the management of affairs of inferior moment; the result of their deliberations being subject to the approval or rejection of the Mahdi himself. The revolutionists, whose numbers, daily recruited by accessions from the martial tribes of the Desert, had now become formidable, assumed the name of Almohades, or Unitarians, not only to distinguish them from the Christians, whose trinitarian dogma and adoration of images caused them to be designated by all Moslems as idolaters, but to indicate as well a return to the original simplicity of Islam, long corrupted by the heterodox practices and dissolute manners of their Almoravide rivals. A strange and mysterious fatality seemed to attach to the fortunes of the latter in every field where they encountered the armies of the newly arisen Prophet. In four successive engagements the soldiers of Ali, seized with a panic in the presence of the enemy, yielded almost without resistance to the attack of the Berber cavalry; their standards and baggage were taken, and thousands of fugitives, butchered in headlong flight, expiated with the loss of life and honor their effeminacy and their cowardice.

The opinion generally prevalent in the minds of the illiterate, that military success is an infallible criterion of religious truth, began to produce its effect on the Almoravides. The terror experienced by them at the sight of the enemy—really due to relaxation of discipline and apprehension of the miraculous powers of an audacious charlatan—was universally attributed to supernatural influence. The mission of the Mahdi required no further demonstration of its divine origin. Henceforth his utterances were received by both friend and enemy as the oracles of God. His credit daily increased among the credulous and passionate inhabitants of the Desert. The Almoravide soldiers shrank from an encounter with a foe whose white standard seemed to be invested with the mystic qualities of a talisman. The Mahdi, renouncing in a measure his character of affected humility, now assumed the pomp of a sovereign. He surrounded himself with a splendidly appointed bodyguard. His throne was approached by suppliants for favor with the debasing and complicated ceremonial of Oriental despotism. He demanded, in arrogant and menacing language, submission and tribute from Ali, who, dejected by repeated misfortune, began to share with his ignorant subjects the awe which enveloped the person and the attributes of his triumphant and formidable adversary. The plans of the latter had heretofore been accomplished without an established base of operations, the camps of the Almohades being moved from place to place over the drifting sands of the Desert; but now, the direction of an army of twenty thousand men, the subsistence and shelter of a vast multitude of non-combatants, and the dignity and power of a new and growing political organization urgently demanded a settled habitation and a recognized centre of authority. Among the lofty crags of a mountain spur extending from the range of Tlemcen to the Atlantic stood the village of Tinamal. Its retired situation, its natural defences, its proximity to both the rich cities of the coast and the fertile regions of the interior, the character of its people, who were to a man ardent believers in the mission of the Mahdi, made it an admirable point either for the inauguration of a conquest or the institution of an harassing system of predatory warfare. It was approached by narrow and tortuous paths which, winding along the mountain side, disclosed, on the one hand, an inaccessible cliff, on the other, an abyss whose depths were shrouded in perpetual gloom. From its battlements, almost hidden in the clouds, the progress of a hostile party could be watched for miles as, with slow and uncertain steps, it pursued its hazardous way. In this mountain fastness the Mahdi fixed his residence and established his capital. The natural impediments in the path of an invader were greatly multiplied by the artificial resources of engineering skill. Towers and fortresses were raised at points commanding the various approaches to the mountain stronghold. Drawbridges were thrown across roaring torrents. Walls and gateways obstructed the passage, where an insignificant force might with ease check the progress of a numerous army. The village of Tinamal soon became a city, whose inhabitants, subsisting by the plunder of their neighbors, became the scourge and the terror of the peaceable and defenceless subjects of Ali. After a long sojourn in his seat of power, the Mahdi, about to succumb to a fatal disease, determined to signalize his closing days by an enterprise worthy of the pretensions he had assumed and of the success which had hitherto favored his undertakings. An army of forty thousand men was assembled for the capture of Morocco. In a desperate conflict under the walls of that city, the Almoravides, who outnumbered their opponents two to one, were put to flight and pursued with terrible carnage to its gates. But the fortunes of the Almohades, heretofore invincible, were now destined to receive a serious blow. Unaccustomed to the conduct of a siege, the soldiers of Abd-al-Mumen habitually neglected the precautions which, in the presence of an enemy, are indispensable to the security of a camp. Within the immense circuit of the capital were marshalled for a final struggle the collected resources of the empire. Thousands of fugitives from the recent disastrous battle had found an asylum behind its walls. Reinforcements had been drawn from every African province as well as from the diminished Andalusian armies, their own strength already sorely taxed by repeated incursions of the Christian foe. The constructing and handling of military engines were confided to a body of Byzantine and Sicilian engineers enlisted for that purpose. The soldiery was animated by the presence and the example of the Sultan, who had for the time abandoned the Koran for the sword, and stood ready to perform the part of a valiant and resolute commander. The citizens, moved to desperation by the approach of an enemy whose relentless character had been established by the massacre of fugitives and prisoners, and from whose ferocity, aggravated by prolonged opposition, they could expect no indulgence, co-operated manfully with the garrison in the defence of their homes, their families, their property, and their king. The first sallies of the Almoravides, conducted by leaders trained to partisan encounters in the wars of Spain, were signally disastrous to the besiegers. The latter, suddenly checked in an uninterrupted career of victory, were disconcerted and dismayed, and their confidence was shaken in proportion as the spirits of their adversaries rose. Encouraged by success, the attacks of the latter became more vigorous and determined; a general engagement followed, the Almohades were routed with terrific slaughter, and it was only by the exertion of strenuous effort that Abd-al-Mumen and a handful of survivors were enabled to escape the lances of the Almoravide cavalry. The depression caused by a single disaster was more potent in its effect on the minds of the disciples of the Mahdi than the prestige derived from a score of victories. The influence which had exercised its mysterious sway over the imagination of all who had presumed to dispute the claims of the impostor was perceptibly impaired. The fickle tribesmen deserted his standard by thousands. But in the course of a few years his eloquence and tact were able to repair the losses he had sustained; another army commanded by Abd-al-Mumen issued from the mountains, and a brilliant victory obtained over the followers of Ali retrieved the honor and credit of the Almohade cause. The Mahdi did not long survive his triumph. Overcome with the excitement occasioned by the return of his soldiers with their array of spoil and captives, he died, after having committed to the faithful Abd-al-Mumen the accomplishment of the task of conquest and reformation which he had so successfully begun.

Of all the prophets and reformers, the progenitors of dynasties, the conquerors of kingdoms, the restorers of the Faith, which from its origin have appeared in the domain of Islam, none possess a greater claim to distinction than Abu-Abdallah, surnamed the Mahdi, the founder of the sect of the Almohades. Without the commanding genius and originality of Mohammed, he equalled that remarkable personage in keenness of perception and energy of character, and far surpassed him in education, in eloquence, in practical acquaintance with the foibles and the prejudices of humanity. The suggestive examples of his predecessors, who had attained to supreme power through pretensions to inspiration and martial achievements, incited him to establish for himself a political and religious empire. With more of the charlatan and less of the soldier in his mental composition than had characterized many reformers, he retained to the last his retiring asceticism, but in case of emergency he did not hesitate to boldly risk his life on the field of battle. No scholar was better versed than he in the literature and science of his age. His sagacity was proof against the insinuating arts of the most accomplished negotiator. In the prosecution of his ambitious projects he never considered the comfort or the safety of his followers; in the exaction of his vengeance every sentiment of pity and indulgence was ruthlessly cast aside. His influence over his disciples was maintained by appeals to superstition and by arts of imposture congenial with the temperament of the ignorant and the credulous. To conceal these frauds, the wretched instruments by whom they had been effected were promptly put to death. Such persons as were so unfortunate as to incur the enmity of the false Prophet were buried alive. Such was the extent of his power over the masses, that the crimes perpetrated by his orders or with his sanction were regarded in the light of virtues; that his spurious claims to divinity were accepted by entire nations who revered him even more than his great prototype Mohammed, and who demonstrated their enduring faith in his mission by raising his friend and successor, to whom his authority had descended, to an equality with the greatest potentates of the age.

While the victories of the Almohades in Africa were undermining the already crumbling empire of Ali, his Spanish dominions were overrun and wasted by Aragonese and Castilian armies. The supremacy of the clergy which followed the rise of the Almoravide dynasty was the signal for Christian persecution. In Andalusia, and especially throughout the principality of Granada, where the Mozarabes abounded, the Moslem theologians exercised with unrestricted severity the congenial privilege of oppression. Churches and monasteries were confiscated or destroyed under pretext of their construction since the Conquest, acts of encroachment which, although in contravention of the stipulations of Musa, had been tacitly ignored for centuries. Taxes far in excess of those prescribed by Mussulman law were imposed on the Christian tributaries. Under the most frivolous accusations their property was seized. Every indignity which popular envy or religious hatred could contrive was inflicted upon them. Their endurance exhausted, the Mozarabes of Granada, who, through the medium of Jewish merchants, had long held secret communication with their Castilian brethren, an intercourse which had suggested and promoted many a predatory expedition, now began to meditate permanent freedom from conditions scarcely less intolerable than those of servitude. The serious difficulties in which the Almoravide empire was involved; the contemptuous indifference of its ruler to the complaints of his subjects; the succession of Almohade victories; the withdrawal to Africa of the flower of the Andalusian troops for the defence of Morocco; the advance of the Castilian outposts, in the face of whose encroachments the frontier was continually receding; the reconquest of Saragossa, the last important Moslem bulwark in the North, all encouraged the hope that the Christian domination and the Christian faith might now be easily re-established from the Pyrenees to the Mediterranean. Excited by ill-timed dreams of liberty, the Mozarabes brought to bear every resource of solicitation and argument to tempt an invasion by the Christian princes. They despatched secret envoys to the court of Castile. They sent to Alfonso I., King of Aragon, topographical descriptions of the country, enumerations of its armies, information of the locations of its magazines and of the relative position and respective strength of its fortresses, its castles, and its arsenals. They promised their services as guides and pioneers. They pledged the support of the Christian tributaries of Granada, who, through the favor they had enjoyed under Hebrew ministers, exceeded in numbers and wealth those of any other province of the empire. To assurances of success, the Mozarabes enlarged upon the attractions which characterized the most fertile and beautiful valley in Andalusia. It was not strange that the cupidity of the Aragonese cavaliers should have been excited by such a picture, or their sovereign tempted by a prospect so flattering to his ambition. An expedition was hastily organized, and at the head of twelve thousand cavalry Alfonso entered the country of the enemy. But the enterprise which promised such magnificent results terminated in inaction, which was even more discreditable than defeat. The Mozarabes, faithful to their engagements, joined the invader in multitudes. They conducted his forces by unfrequented paths through the perilous defiles of the mountains. They furnished their allies with money, provisions, horses, and beasts of burden. Forty thousand volunteers swelled the ranks of the Aragonese army. But for some inexplicable reason this great force accomplished nothing. The King, whose resolution seemed to have failed him before the bold provincials of Granada, retired discomfited from the walls of Valencia, Xucar, Denia. The citizens of Baeza, whose city was unprovided with defences, repulsed with severe loss the formidable chivalry of the North, fighting under the eye of a sovereign accustomed from boyhood to the perils and the stratagems of war. The time lost by the Christians, who seemed incapable of appreciating the advantages of surprise and attack, was diligently improved by their adversaries. Temim, the brother of the Sultan and the governor of Granada, collected reinforcements from every district of the Peninsula held by the Almoravides. The troops which had been sent to Africa were recalled. The fortifications of the capital, which at that time were far from possessing the finished and impregnable character subsequently imparted to them by the military genius and profuse expenditures of the Alhamares, were improved and perfected as far as time and circumstances would permit. The Mozarabes were placed under rigorous espionage. The most obnoxious were imprisoned. Others were expelled from the city. A large force was encamped on the slopes of the Sierra Nevada, but the proximity of the Christians, whose outposts could be distinctly seen from the battlements of the citadel, and the presence of thousands of secret and implacable enemies, raised the most gloomy apprehensions in the minds of the Moslems. In hourly expectation of an assault, crowds assembled in the mosques, where the imams offered the supplications prescribed by the Koran for seasons of extremity. Although the numbers of the Christian army reached fifty thousand, the great majority of which was composed of Mozarabe rebels, not ignorant of warfare and nerved to despair by the remembrance of recent persecution and the hopelessness of future immunity, it remained idly in its intrenchments. Familiarity with the enemy gradually removed from the minds of the Moors the fears which had been excited by overwhelming odds. The flying Arab cavalry swept the plain of subsistence and forage. Small parties of Christians were cut off. The rainy season arrived; the streams overflowed; the dry ravines became impassable torrents, and disease and want began to invade the hostile camp. Then Alfonso determined to retreat. One way alone was open, for the mountains which separated him from his kingdom were already white with snow, and the active Moslems, anticipating a favorable turn of affairs, had long since occupied the passes in his rear. Abandoning his allies, who had sacrificed honor, allegiance, and liberty in obedience to his summons, the King of Aragon marched southward. Threading the perilous defiles of the Alpujarras, the Christians emerged at length upon the tropical coast of Velez-Malaga. The cavaliers of the inhospitable North were enchanted with the delightful prospect presented by the plantations of cotton and sugar, the groves of oranges and palms, and the profusion of odoriferous shrubs and flowers whose blossoms filled the air with their fragrance. But the pleasures of this paradise could not be long enjoyed by the invaders. Behind them the entire country was in arms. All the forces available for that purpose had been collected throughout the Moslem dominions to intercept their retreat. It was certain death for a straggler to venture beyond the limits of the camp. Provisions could be obtained with the greatest difficulty, owing to the fears of the Mozarabes and the vigilance of the enemy. To add to the embarrassment of the King, his following had been increased by the undesirable presence of a great number of non-combatants, who consumed the supplies while hampering the movements and diminishing the security of the army. Ten thousand Mozarabes, many of whom were accompanied by their families, preferring the doubtful issue of a military campaign and the hardships of a long and tedious march to the certain severities of Moorish vengeance, impeded the march of the Christians. It was hardly consistent with the dictates of humanity to desert these refugees, connected with his race by the double ties of blood and religion; and Alfonso was forced, much against his will, to tolerate their presence and assure them of his protection. After a few days’ sojourn at Velez-Malaga, the army began its homeward march through the mountains of Guadix. From that moment until the boundary of Aragon was reached, its progress was marked by incessant battle. The country swarmed with Moorish horsemen. The camp was repeatedly stormed. The noonday halt, the passage of a stream, the approach to a mountain defile, was certain to provoke a bloody encounter. Hundreds of exhausted women and children, unable to bear the fatigue of the march, were, with the wounded, daily abandoned to the rage of a vindictive enemy. When Alfonso entered his capital, it would have been difficult to recognize in his emaciated and dejected followers, whose ragged garments and battered armor bore evidence of many a hotly contested skirmish, the splendid array of knights which almost a year before had with exultant confidence set forth, as upon a holiday excursion, to capture the city of Granada. No enterprise in the wars of the Peninsula was inaugurated under more brilliant auspices and was more unproductive of results. The indecision with which its operations were conducted was itself a precursor of disaster. The valor of the Aragonese chivalry was expended in a series of fruitless and inglorious contests with Andalusian mountaineers. The accomplishment of the main object of the expedition was never seriously attempted. No victory contributed its lustre to the waning reputation of the Christians. Not a foot of territory had been added to the realms of the invader. No spoil consoled him for the loss of glory, no prisoners swelled his train. Cities unprotected by fortifications had successfully resisted the assaults of his bravest soldiers. No substantial benefit could be derived from indecisive engagements, protracted sieges, difficult marches through a hostile country, forays unrewarded with either captives or plunder. It was true that the Moorish states of Andalusia had been traversed from end to end; that a portion of their territory had been desolated; that the emblem of Christian faith had been displayed, for the second time since the rout of the Guadalete, on the shores of the Mediterranean. These, however, were but evidences of a barren triumph. The vulnerability of the Moslem empire, since the fall of the khalifate, had been repeatedly demonstrated. Predatory expeditions undertaken without the prestige of royalty had often inflicted far more damage on the enemy than that which had accompanied an invasion by picked troops of the Aragonese kingdom. The only real advantage remained with the Moslems of Granada, who were made acquainted with the disaffection of their Mozarabe subjects, and were enabled to provide against future outbreaks by the permanent suppression and removal of a treacherous population, which had long been a menace to public security. The Mozarabes expiated by poverty and chains, by exile and death, their ill-timed effort to escape the vexations of Moslem rule. Their lands were forcibly occupied by their Arab neighbors. Their effects were seized and sold at auction. Hundreds expired amidst the noxious vapors of subterranean dungeons. Such as had openly joined the Christian army were, with their families, condemned to slavery, and were purchased by Jewish traders to be again disposed of in the markets of Asia. The majority of the others, by order of the Sultan, were banished to Africa, where, in the vicinity of Mequinez and Salé, many of them eventually perished by disease and famine. After the lapse of eleven years a final deportation of these troublesome subjects, who seem to have given renewed cause for offence, was effected; and the kingdom of Granada, which formerly possessed the largest number of tributary Christians in the empire, was now almost entirely deprived of this element of its population. The places of the exiles were supplied by African colonists, whose modern descendants, in their swarthy complexions, their curling locks, and their general mental characteristics, have preserved unmistakable tokens of their Mauritanian ancestry.

In the midst of his foreign and domestic tribulations, the death of Temim, the Viceroy of Spain, brought fresh perplexity and sorrow to the heart of Ali. A worthy successor of that able warrior was found, however, in Tashfin, the promising heir of the Almoravide throne. The youth of that prince proved rather an inducement than an objection to his appointment to a responsible command. He gained several victories over the Christians, ravaged the valley of the Tagus as far as the gates of Toledo, and in a few short campaigns added to the possessions of his father more than thirty fortresses and castles. Aragon, long involved in hostilities with Castile, had recently obtained an important accession of territory and power. Saif-al-Daulat, the son of the last Emir of Saragossa, unable to hold the remaining cities of his principality, harassed by Christian and Moslem alike, surrendered them to Alfonso. The latter, desiring communication with the South,—still closed by Moslem occupation,—pushed his advance along the valley of the Ebro. Mequinenza was taken after a short resistance and its garrison massacred. Then the Christian army invested Fraga. This fortress, situated on a lofty and isolated mountain, was considered one of the most impregnable places in the Peninsula, and, commanding the navigation of the Ebro, was the key of Southern Aragon. The Moors, recognizing its value, had removed all persons unable to bear arms; had provided its magazines with provisions sufficient for a long siege, and had manned its fortifications with a force of several thousand veterans, who, warned by the fate of their brethren at Mequinenza, were nerved to an obstinate defence. The siege was signalized by a series of desperate encounters, in which both parties utilized every resource of military stratagem and personal prowess. At the first appearance of the Christians before the principal bulwark of the now contracted Mussulman frontier, a general alarm had been sounded in all the cities of Spain and Africa. The Emir, relieved for the time from apprehensions of the Almohades, despatched a powerful army for the relief of Fraga. With its ranks largely reinforced by Andalusian levies, the Berber host, whose supplies were transported upon hundreds of camels, advanced rapidly along the Ebro until it came in sight of the besiegers’ camp. Contrary to custom, but with a design whose wisdom soon became fatally apparent, the convoy with the baggage preceded the main body on the march. The soldiers of Alfonso, presuming that the camels were loaded with provisions for the garrison, and deceived by the feeble escort which protected them, rushed forward in tumultuous disorder and attacked the guard. The latter retreated, and the Christians, unwarily drawn into the mountain ravines, were surrounded. Almost helpless in their confined situation, with enemies swarming on every side and the air darkened with clouds of missiles, their army was soon annihilated. The situation, which forbade alike successful defence or orderly retreat; the bewildering sensations produced by the unexpected apparition of myriads of ferocious warriors; the repeated charges which by sheer force of numbers overpowered at once the foremost ranks of the Aragonese; the countless stones and arrows which poured down from crag and hillside, soon decided the bloody and unequal contest. Scarcely an hour elapsed before the Christians succumbed to the superior numbers and equal valor of their foes. One after another the bravest knights of Aragon, together with the flower of the French and English chivalry, whom crusading ambition and the love of adventure had allured to the standard of Alfonso, were killed while protecting their king and their commanders. With them were not a few of the highest dignitaries of the church, who, exchanging the mitre for the helmet and the crosier for the sword, had been accustomed, since the Visigothic domination, to share the fortunes of the most arduous campaigns, and to unite in the field and in the camp the duties of their peaceful profession with the stern and merciless demands of war. These martial prelates nobly sustained upon this occasion the reputation for courage which had for centuries distinguished their order above that of any other country in Europe. The bishops of Rosas, of Jaca, and of Urgel fell side by side, sword in hand. The King, supported by fifty devoted followers, resisted with desperate courage and hopeless firmness the assaults of the Moslems, exasperated by the valor of a handful of determined men. His fate, like that of Roderick the Goth, is unknown. The ecclesiastical legends of the time have celebrated, as the most glorious events of his life, his abandonment of the throne and his retirement to the cloisters of a monastery in expiation of the sins for which his defeat was assumed to be a token of divine displeasure. But the monkish annals of the Middle Ages are notoriously unreliable; the minds of their authors were clouded with ignorance and warped by prejudice; the critical faculty, so indispensable to the correctness of historical narration, was unfamiliar to them; and, to accomplish the degradation of an enemy or the exaltation of a friend, they were capable of the most disreputable inventions and the most extravagant perversions of the truth.

From the character and the life of Alfonso, it is probable that he perished with his attendants, and that his body, stripped and unrecognized, was confounded with the thousands of other corpses which encumbered the field of battle. The King of Aragon, who had won the proud appellation of El Batallador, was not the man to retire in the face of the enemy, even had it been possible. Still less would he have been willing to surrender, that the captivity of the most formidable of Christian champions should contribute to the glory of a Moslem triumph. The temper of the age was pre-eminently favorable to the exercise of imposture; an escape, procured through the miraculous intervention of saints and angels, was perfectly congenial with the superstitious ideas of the masses; and the selection of a religious house as a place of refuge and voluntary penance by an humiliated and contrite monarch could not fail to enhance the importance and extend the influence of the ecclesiastical order, already becoming intolerable for its arrogance and power. But, whatever may have been the ultimate fate of Alfonso, it is certain that his disappearance dates from the battle of Fraga. The most exhaustive historical research has failed to establish his existence subsequent to that melancholy and eventful day. His loss was a great but not an irreparable misfortune to the cause of the Reconquest. Although at the time of his death he was the most conspicuous figure in the Christian armies, others were soon found capable of prosecuting the work he had so gallantly begun, and of carrying to a successful issue the fierce and relentless crusade which only ended under the walls of the Alhambra.

As in former ages the progress of the Moslems was retarded and the stability of their empire endangered and finally undermined by intestine quarrels, so now, on the other hand, the jealousies and contentions of the rival kingdoms of Castile and Aragon were destined to prolong for centuries their struggle for national and religious supremacy. The intrigues of hostile chieftains, the greed and ambition of the clergy, the passions of dissolute and unprincipled women, the unnatural aversion of two nations identical in origin, proud of the same traditions, professing the same theological dogmas; the prejudices of the fanatical masses, absolutely controlled by a despotic and ignorant priesthood, were all-important factors in determining the policy of the as yet unorganized Christian states of the Peninsula. The mutual hostility of the kingdoms subsequently united under Ferdinand and Isabella insured the continuance of Moorish dominion far more effectually than the levying of contributions, the forming of alliances, the enlistment of armies. Bodies of Moslem mercenaries served alternately with the troops of both contending parties, and those who fought side by side to-day might meet as enemies to-morrow. Not infrequently impoverished and unscrupulous vassals of the Christian monarchs were induced to revolt before a projected invasion by the judicious employment of Moorish gold. Thus arrayed against each other, with treachery in their camps and foes in their rear, the Spanish princes were constantly hampered in the execution of their plans of conquest. Other causes contributed to their want of success. The Christian generals could often win, but were seldom disposed to improve a victory. Feudal independence, now first interposed as a disturbing force, was implacably hostile to discipline; the vassal obeyed his suzerain; but the noble whose origin was often as illustrious as that of his king was only too ready to question, or even to defy, the regal authority. The incapacity to appreciate the resultant advantages of military success was also a characteristic of the Moors. A great battle usually ended a campaign. But the enemy was rarely pursued beyond the field; his camp was overrun by a disorganized mob in search of plunder; his baggage was ransacked; his seraglio appropriated; his wounded massacred. The dispersed remnants of his army were afforded abundant time to reorganize and to again become formidable. The ability of the Moslems to profit by the discomfiture of an adversary disappeared with the great soldier Al-Mansur. Generations were to elapse before the Spanish commanders, recognizing untiring energy as an indispensable requisite of permanent success, were enabled to plant their banners on the towers of Cordova and Seville. In no great contest described in history were such fierce battles fought, such bodies of men dispersed, such losses of life sustained, and such paltry results accomplished. On more than one occasion a sovereign, the moral effect of whose capture would have been almost equivalent to a great victory, was suffered to escape from the very hands of the enemy. In a few weeks a force which had been apparently destroyed confronted the victor as defiantly as ever. The defenceless condition of the Moslem states had been thoroughly established. Their territory had been penetrated in every direction by squadrons of Christian cavalry, whose numbers, when compared with the inhabitants of the provinces they despoiled, were insignificant. The invaders dispersed with ease large bodies of the effeminate Andalusian horsemen. They encamped with impunity in the vicinity of populous cities. But these expeditions accomplished but little more than the destruction of a few harvests and the burning of a few villages. The campaigns on both sides were ordinarily distinguished by fraternal discord, military incapacity, and fatal indecision.

The correctness of these observations may be established by recurring to the consequences of the battle of Fraga. The rout of the Christians and the death of their king would certainly seem to have demanded a vigorous prosecution of hostilities by the victors before the popular demoralization resulting from such a catastrophe subsided. But nothing of the kind took place. The few survivors of the defeat which had wrecked the hopes of a nation spread dismay through the realms of the Christians. In Aragon, part of whose territory had recently been ceded by a degenerate prince to his hereditary enemies, and none of which was in sympathy with the usurpation of their detested masters, the people expected, with eager but fallacious hopes, the appearance of the deliverer. The merchants lounged idly in their shops. The peasantry, with sullen patience, submitted to the extortions of the Jewish farmers of the revenue. Saragossa was still, in all but name and government, a Moslem city. The muezzin still announced from her minarets the hour of prayer. The imam still read the Koran from the pulpits of her mosques. Her occupation by the Aragonese had only served to intensify the hatred entertained by her citizens against those who had profited by their betrayal. The noble recalled with mingled sorrow and exultation the military fame and intellectual pursuits of the royal House of Ibn-Hud; the husbandman viewed with unconcealed resentment the encroachments of the Church and the Crown upon his small but valuable inheritance. The valley of the Ebro still possessed many fortresses defended by natural impediments and Moslem valor. All these considerations invited the intervention of the victors, but the Moorish commander, satisfied with the barren laurels acquired at Fraga, neglected an opportunity which might have restored to the Almoravide Sultan one of the most important provinces of his empire. For several years the frontier was wasted by implacable partisan warfare; the Moslems carried into slavery the populations of entire communities; the Christians, harassed by the enemy and encumbered with their prisoners, frequently put these defenceless victims of their hostility to the sword; in the heat of battle quarter was neither asked nor given, and the struggle assumed more than ever the character of a war of extermination. The country devastated by these incessant and destructive inroads never recovered its prosperity. The once beautiful regions of the Ebro and the Pisuerga now present to the eye the sombre and monotonous aspect of a desert, and portions of the valley of the Guadalquivir, which under Moorish rule were clothed with extensive orchards and luxuriant harvests, have lapsed into primeval desolation. The ruthlessness with which these wars were prosecuted bears ample testimony to the savage inhumanity of that age. Considerations of mercy seldom influenced the conduct of the victor. Engagements contracted under circumstances of peculiar solemnity were violated without provocation and without excuse. In the perpetration of these enormities the Christians, encouraged and absolved by their spiritual advisers, far surpassed their antagonists. No attention was paid to the pitiful appeals of enemies stricken in the heat of battle. The heads of rebellious princes were fixed on the battlements of cities; their limbs, embalmed with campher, were exhibited as trophies in the palace of the conqueror. When a place was taken by storm, neither age, nor sex, nor infirmity were regarded by the infuriated assailants. The discovery of hidden gold by the application of torture was a favorite amusement of the Christian soldiery. If the number of captives became inconveniently large, the least valuable were butchered. The licentious passions of the Castilians were exercised without restraint upon the weak and the defenceless. Women were violated before the eyes of their husbands and fathers. The mansions of Christian nobles rivalled in their treasures of Moorish beauty the harems of the most voluptuous Andalusian princes. In the alluring diversions of sensuality, unsanctioned by law and prohibited by religion, the dignitaries of the Church were as ever pre-eminently conspicuous; and their lovely concubines, attired with a magnificence only to be procured by the use of ecclesiastical wealth, appeared at court with their lords, equally careless of unfavorable comment or of public scandal.

In Africa the movements of Abd-al-Mumen, who had been the general of the Almohades and was now their sovereign, began to excite the alarm of Ali. The successor of the Mahdi began his reign with an expedition whose destructive course extended to the city of Morocco. Tashfin, the ablest of the Almoravide captains, was recalled from Spain; but, despite his reputation and the skilful disposition of his forces, the battalions of Ali, dominated by a craven and superstitious fear, instinctively recoiled from the presence of the enemy. All the experience and resolution of the youthful prince, who had redeemed the Moslem cause in the Peninsula, were insufficient to counteract the evil influence emanating from religious fraud, which, by the force of a distempered imagination, could transform a bold and courageous people into a race of poltroons and slaves. His continual reverses preyed upon the mind of Ali, and his moments were distracted by the signs of the imminent and apparently inevitable collapse of his power. The memory of his early grandeur offered a distressing contrast to the misfortunes of his declining years; and, overcome with mortification and sorrow, he passed from life, bequeathing to his son Tashfin a disheartened army, an exhausted treasury, and a royal inheritance of diminished jurisdiction and doubtful value.

The ill-fortune of Tashfin followed him upon the throne. Defeated by Abd-al-Mumen, he collected all his resources for a supreme and final effort. Such of the Desert tribes as had held aloof from the Mahdi were enlisted. Every available soldier in Africa was called to arms. The garrisons of Andalusia were almost denuded of troops. With the Moorish squadrons of Spain came also a body of four thousand Mozarabes, who, accustomed to long service under Moslem standards, had almost forgotten their ancestry, their traditions, and their faith. These auxiliaries, amenable to discipline and experienced in border warfare, were far more formidable than their scanty numbers would denote.

On the plains of Tlemcen the two armies whose valor was to decide the fate of an empire faced each other. The Almoravides far outnumbered their foes, but the mystic spell of superstition more than compensated for numerical superiority; the soldiers of Tashfin were terrified by imaginary apparitions and supernatural voices, and after a brief but sanguinary contest Abd-al-Mumen remained master of the field. Tashfin was soon afterwards killed in the vicinity of Oran by a fall from a precipice, and with his death vanished the last hope of the Almoravide monarchy.

During the year 1145 a famous landmark of the Mediterranean, of unknown antiquity, but most probably of Phœnician origin, was destroyed. Near the city of Cadiz, and built in the waters of the bay, had long stood a structure composed of a series of columns, rising above each other to the height of one hundred and eighty feet and surmounted by a colossal statue of bronze. The latter represented a man with his right arm extended towards the Strait of Gibraltar and grasping in his hand a key. The entire statue was heavily plated with gold, and was a conspicuous object for a distance of many leagues. Its origin was not less mysterious than the reason for its preservation for nearly four centuries and a half after the Moslem conquest. The well-known iconoclastic propensities of the followers of Mohammed were indulged with every opportunity and against every symbol of idolatrous worship. There was probably no souvenir of Pagan antiquity in Africa or Spain so prominent and so well known as the effigy which, for a period unrecorded even by tradition, indicated to the mariner the gateway of the Mediterranean. The Romans and the Goths, confounding it with the two historic promontories of Europe and Africa, called the imposing structure that supported it the Pillars of Hercules. But it certainly had no connection with that divinity. His temple stood some miles away upon an island, and it was the distinctive peculiarity of his worship among the Phœnicians that he was never represented under a physical form. To the Arabs the statue was known as “The Idol of Cadiz.” A singular fatality had preserved it from the zeal and fury of early sectaries of Islam. It had, no doubt, often awakened the pious horror of devout pilgrims on their way to the shrine of the western Mecca. It had stimulated the curiosity of the antiquary during the scientific period of the khalifate. It had pointed the way to many an invading squadron. It had witnessed the success or the failure of many revolutions. The truculent Norman pirates had viewed its gigantic dimensions with superstitious terror. In the sagas of Scandinavia is preserved the tradition that St. Olaf and his freebooters were, during the eleventh century, deterred from further prosecution of their ravages on the coast of the Peninsula by a vision which its presence inspired. Its immunity from the effects of fanaticism is not less remarkable than its long exemption from the violence of rapacious marauders. A great treasure was said to be concealed beneath the foundations of the tower. It was also the general belief—not confined to the Peninsula, but prevalent throughout Europe—that this famous statue was of solid gold. Its brilliancy, which had remained untarnished by exposure for so many centuries, tended to confirm, if not to absolutely establish, this opinion.

At last, in the twelfth century, the Admiral Ibn-Mamun, having revolted against the Almoravides, caused the statue to be overthrown and broken to pieces. The material was then discovered to be bronze, but the gold with which it was covered brought twelve thousand dinars, a sum now equal to a hundred and ninety-two thousand dollars.

Relieved of all apprehensions from his most dangerous adversary, Abd-al-Mumen attacked and captured in succession the great cities of Africa. Fez offered a desperate resistance, but was taken by damming the river by which it was traversed, until the pent-up waters, bursting their bounds, swept away a large portion of the walls. Mequinez, Aghmat, Salé capitulated. Then the siege of Morocco was begun. To convince the inhabitants of his inflexible purpose, the Almohade general caused a permanent encampment, which resembled, in the regular and substantial character of its edifices, a handsome and well-built city, to be constructed before its walls. The enterprise was prosecuted with unusual pertinacity and vigor. In a sally a large detachment of the Almoravides was decoyed into an ambuscade and cut to pieces, and, with numbers sensibly reduced by this catastrophe, the garrison confined itself for the future to repelling the scaling parties of the enemy. The complete investment of the city was soon followed by famine. The dead lay everywhere in ghastly heaps. The living drew lots to decide who should be sacrificed to provide a horrible repast for his perishing companions. Such was the awful mortality that two hundred thousand persons died of starvation and disease. Aware of the inevitable consequences of surrendering to barbarians without faith or mercy, the garrison contended bravely against hope and fortune. Finally, some Mozarabe soldiers entered into communication with Abd-al-Mumen, and it was agreed that a gate should be opened during the disorder attending a general attack. At daybreak the Almohades, eager for revenge and booty, swarmed into the city. The scimetar and the lance completed the work which famine had not had time to finish. Seventy thousand defenceless persons were massacred. Even this frightful sacrifice did not satiate the besiegers’ desire for blood. For three days such scenes were enacted as could only be tolerated among men insensible to motives of humanity and ignorant of the laws of war. Abd-al-Mumen decapitated with his own hand Abu-Ishak, the son and successor of Tashfin. The command then went forth that not one of the hated sect should be spared. Great numbers of women and children were slaughtered by the savage conquerors and the survivors sold into slavery. Every mosque was levelled with the ground as the only way to purify the houses of God from the abominations of the heretical Almoravides. Preparations were immediately made to erect upon their sites others more extensive and magnificent, and Abd-al-Mumen, who all the while had remained outside the gates, marched away to other scenes of conquest.

A century had elapsed since Abdallah-Ibn-Jahsim had announced to the tribesmen of Lamtounah his mission as the apostle of political integrity and religious reformation. Based upon his teachings, and supported by his military genius and the prowess of his followers, a mighty empire had arisen. With incredible rapidity it had combined in apparently indissoluble union contending nationalities, hostile dogmas, antagonistic temporal interests. It had subjugated a great part of the continent of Africa. It had reconciled the discordant social and political elements which for generations had disturbed the peace and diminished the power of the Moslem states of Spain. It had checked the progress of Christian conquest. By its sweeping victories it had revived the memory of the splendid achievements of the Western Khalifate. The largest armies that had ever trodden the soil of the Peninsula had marched under its banners. Its chiefs were, without exception, men of signal ability. Some, it is true, were destitute of experience in the art of government, but endowed with rare executive talents; others were warriors of established renown; all had exhibited in the exalted post to which they had been called by fortune the qualities of great generals, diplomatists, legislators. The genius of the last of that princely race, had his designs not been frustrated by the Almohade revolution, promised the eventual restoration of Moorish rule over much, if not all, of the territory included in the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile. The rise and progress of no dynasty to boundless power had been so rapid; the decline of none had been more decided or its extinction more destructive and fatal. Mohammedan Spain, still the most civilized and polished of countries, whose court had once dictated the policy of Western Europe; whose alliance had been assiduously courted by Christian kings and emperors; whose armies marched each year to victory; whose fleets monopolized the trade of the seas; whose capital was the literary centre of the world, had been degraded to a dependency of the most ignorant, the most superstitious, the most brutal of nations. The hazardous experiment of establishing a peaceable union between such incongruous and inimical populations must have resulted in failure. Still less could such an undertaking have succeeded when attempted by force. The ethnical elements of Spain and Africa could never have coalesced into a single people. Their enmity was irreconcilable. Their tastes were dissimilar. The Hispano-Arab was a scholar, a philosopher, a gentleman. In spite of the evils which afflicted his country, his colleges and academies were still largely attended by the ambitious youth of distant, often of hostile, nations. He still had access to the fragmentary remains of the great libraries of the khalifs. The architectural monuments of his ancestors still graced, in all their splendor and beauty, the esplanades and thoroughfares of his capitals. Pilgrims still admired with astonishment and rapture the most magnificent temple of Islam. The sacred volume ascribed to the martyred Othman, enshrined in its embossed and jewel-studded casket, still received, amidst the lavish sculpture and sparkling enamels of the Mihrab, the reverential homage of the Faithful. The diminished but not unimportant commerce of his seaports; the manufacturing establishments, whose products were largely exported to foreign countries; the contracted but marvellously fertile area of his agricultural territory, daily reminded the Spanish Moslem of the wisdom and the enterprise developed by the subjects of that glorious empire whose institutions, whose traditions, whose refined tastes, whose intellectual pre-eminence he had inherited.

Far different was it with the conqueror who had appropriated and abused the inestimable remains of all this greatness. From first to last his movements seemed to have been inspired by the genius of disorganization and ruin. The noble attributes of piety and magnanimity were absolutely foreign to his nature. He spared no foe. He forgave no injury. The essential doctrines of the religion he nominally professed were in reality unknown to him. He was wholly ignorant of letters. In the gratification of his savage passions the shedding of blood took precedence of the grovelling instinct of avarice or the more gentle allurements of licentious pleasures. His stolid nature could not appreciate the charms of art, the benefits of science, the delights and the consolations of literature, the advantages of philosophy. All that did not contribute to sensual enjoyment he turned from with disdain. Descended from a race of brigands, who had from time immemorial exercised on the caravans of the Desert the stratagems and the violence of their nefarious calling, he considered the menial and sedentary occupations of agricultural and manufacturing industry as only fit for the hireling and the slave. Ever accustomed to individual freedom, he obeyed only the orders of his sheik, who owed his promotion to the suffrage of the tribe, and who was often elected or deposed with equal haste and facility. The monarch was frequently as unlettered as his meanest subject. Yusuf could neither read nor write, and understood but imperfectly the copious and polished idiom spoken in many provinces of his dominions. Ali was less intelligent than many a youth in the primary schools of Cordova. This wide-spread and deplorable contempt for learning virtually placed the power of the state in the hands of a class least qualified to wield it; and the intrigues and exactions of the Mohammedan clergy, supplemented with African barbarism and rapacity, contributed more than domestic convulsions or Christian valor to finally subvert the unstable but still majestic fabric of the Saracen power.

The Moslem factions of the Peninsula joined in precarious union under the sceptre of the Almoravides beheld with dismal forebodings the successive and crushing misfortunes which preceded the extinction of that dynasty. Neither religious accord nor political necessity would have reconciled them to the domination of a race between whose members and themselves there existed an irreconcilable antipathy. But on many points of theological controversy the liberal views of the most learned Moorish doctors shocked the strict disciplinarians of Islam. These accomplished polemical scholars had imbibed in the Universities of Seville and Cordova ideas highly offensive to the severely orthodox; they had indulged their wit at the expense of hypocrisy and ignorance in the intellectual atmosphere of the court, and the vengeance of those who were recently the objects of their satire had now descended with redoubled force upon the thoughtless aggressors. All books except the Koran and the Sunnah fell under the royal displeasure. The study of philosophy, although prohibited in the schools, was, as is usual under such circumstances, diligently pursued in secret. The intellectual habits of centuries were not to be abolished by an imperial edict, and the reprobation of a band of hypocrites and zealots who preached self-denial and abstemiousness, and were notoriously guilty of the grossest offences against morality, was unable to entirely suppress the accumulation and the diffusion of knowledge. No country in Europe, however, was more exclusively and disastrously controlled by ecclesiastical influence than was Moorish Spain under the rule of the Almoravides.

Aside from theological considerations, as has been previously stated, universal dissatisfaction with the dominant race existed. The Africans were regarded as foreigners, invaders, oppressors. They had, even in their moments of leisure, contributed nothing to the material wealth of the country. They were unacquainted with the simplest principles of engineering or the adaptation of the mechanical arts to the ordinary concerns of life. No structure worthy of notice had risen under their auspices. Their native ferocity remained unmitigated in the midst of the humanizing influences of civilization. They discouraged manual labor and despised the occupations by which that labor was employed and maintained. Thus harassed by theological intolerance and barbarian tyranny, every sect and party in the Peninsula, except the one in power, received with secret exultation intelligence of the serious disasters to the Almoravide cause. Public feeling was already aroused to a point which almost defied restraint, when news arrived of the defeat and death of Tashfin, whose well-known abilities and courage had heretofore alone prevented a revolt. It was then that the long suppressed and furious passions of an outraged people found expression. In every Moslem community the mob rose against their African tyrants. Ibn-Gamia, the lieutenant of Tashfin, fled to the Balearic Isles. Complete anarchy prevailed. Governors of provinces and commanders of fortresses aspired to independence. Each city became the capital of a miniature kingdom, each castle the seat of a principality. Forgetting the imminent peril in which they stood, environed as they were by powerful enemies, these petty sovereigns immediately turned against each other. Civil war of the most sanguinary and vindictive character was inaugurated. Cordova deposed her governor, installed another, and, after eight days, recalled the first to power. At Granada the Almoravide garrison was besieged for months in the citadel. In some provinces the inconstant temper of the multitude, which selected and murdered their rulers with equal alacrity, made the promotion to supreme authority, usually so coveted by ambitious men, a distinction of the most doubtful and invidious character. The Kadi of Cordova, whose office retained to a considerable extent the dignity and importance with which it was invested under the khalifs as the first judicial employment in the empire, was assassinated while at prayer in the mosque. The appearance of an African in the streets of any Andalusian city immediately provoked a riot. The obligations of hospitality were forgotten in the gratification of vengeance. Obnoxious ministers were poisoned amidst the festivities of the banquet. Military officers whose loyalty interposed obstacles to the ambition of obscure and unprincipled adventurers were murdered while asleep. The dangerous aid of the Christian princes, only too willing to contribute to the mutual embarrassment and enmity of their Mussulman neighbors, was invoked. Ibn-Gamia had succeeded in organizing a considerable party of adherents, and had obtained from Alfonso VII., King of Castile, a body of troops on condition of the acknowledgment of the latter as suzerain. Baeza was the first place to submit to Ibn-Gamia, and its surrender was immediately followed by the siege of Cordova. In this singular warfare, Moslems and Christians, although their efforts were directed against a common enemy, fought and encamped apart, serving independently under their respective commanders. The Castilians, conscious of their power, treated their allies with undisguised contempt, and haughtily ascribed to Christian valor alone the achievement of every successful enterprise. The venerable capital, incapable of prolonged resistance, soon opened its gates to the besiegers. The entry of the Christians was rendered memorable by the commission of a sacrilege in comparison with which the profanations of former conquerors were trivial. The Great Mosque of Abd-al-Rahman, one of the holy places of Islam, which since its foundation had never been profaned by the presence of an infidel, was invaded by the rude Castilian soldiery. They rode through its court, fragrant with the odors of innumerable orange blossoms. They tethered their war-horses in its arcades. They bathed in the basins whose waters had hitherto been sacred to the ablutions of the Moslem ceremonial. Inside the edifice raised by the tribute of Christian cities and the spoils of a hundred victorious campaigns, they sauntered through the colonnades and gazed with wonder upon the Mihrab blazing with all the gorgeous magnificence of the East. The religious sentiments and prejudices of their allies received no consideration at the hands of these scoffing mercenaries. Despite the remonstrances of the Moslems, they desecrated the precincts of the sanctuary. Some mounted the pulpit and derided with indecent mockery the postures and genuflexions of the Mussulman worship. Their eyes glared with unrestrained cupidity upon the casket of sandal-wood and ebony enriched with gems which contained the Koran of Othman. With flippant and sneering comments they examined that volume, venerated by the Moslems of every age and nation with all the superstitious reverence of idolatry. They removed it from its receptacle, turned over its leaves, and gazed with incredulity and contempt on the mysterious stains which tradition and faith attributed to the blood of the murdered Khalif. In their intercourse with the citizens their overbearing demeanor and insatiable rapacity caused the encroachments of Moslem tyranny to be almost forgotten. Their leaders, assuming all the credit of a conquest in which they had figured in a subordinate capacity, demanded that Cordova be added to the realms of Castile. This proposition, repugnant to every sense of justice, was promptly rejected by the Moslems. A serious altercation followed; the rival captains mutually refused to yield, and a collision seemed imminent, when through the adoption of prudent counsels matters were adjusted by the cession of Baeza, which was immediately occupied by a detachment of Christian troops.

The subjection of Africa by the Almohades had scarcely been effected when Abd-al-Mumen began to take measures for the establishment of his power in the Peninsula. An army of thirty thousand soldiers, commanded by Abu-Amrah-Musa, landed at Algeziras. The march of this formidable army resembled a triumphal progress rather than the cautious movements of a hostile force. The people, with characteristic inconstancy, welcomed the savage invaders as the deliverers of their country. Algeziras, with its ample port and well-provided magazines and arsenals; Tarifa, with its impregnable defences; Xeres, with its wealth of orange groves and vineyards, opened their gates to the enemy. Then Abu-Amrah, flushed with success, pushed on to Seville. On the march his ranks were swelled by numerous accessions from the peasantry, actuated by the prospect of plunder and the hope of retribution. To these undisciplined but serviceable recruits was added a considerable and well-equipped reinforcement from the province of Badajoz. Seville had remained nominally loyal to the Almoravides; but her population was divided by faction, and thousands of citizens cherished in secret implacable resentment against their cruel and avaricious masters. Warning was conveyed to the garrison of the treasonable intentions of the populace, which had promised to deliver the city to the Africans, and it escaped to Carmona before the appearance of the enemy. Seville was no sooner occupied than Malaga, always susceptible to African influence, and whose inhabitants had probably long been cognizant of the projected invasion, voluntarily submitted to the Almohades and added another to their list of bloodless but decisive triumphs.

The memory of the exploits of the Almoravide generals, and the appearance of a new and victorious enemy in the South, had reconciled the quarrels of the Christian states far more effectually than all the concessions of diplomacy or the exhortations and anathemas of the Church. Envoys from the Italian republics of Venice, Pisa, and Genoa had recently visited the Castilian court and represented to the King the important service he could confer upon Christendom by the suppression of the pirates who, from their stronghold at Almeria, threatened the destruction of commerce on the Mediterranean. The depredations of these adventurous rovers carried terror into every part of Southern Europe. Their vessels swept the coast from Bayonne to Constantinople, defied the combined navies of Italy and the Empire of the East, and had already materially reduced the wealth and disturbed the trade of many populous and important cities. It seems extraordinary that under such circumstances application for relief should have been made to the remote kingdom of Castile. It was separated from Almeria by the entire length of the Spanish Peninsula. Vast tracts of barren lands, provinces swarming with a hostile and warlike population, were interposed between its plains and the tropical coast of Andalusia. A formidable enemy had just established himself in the most fertile districts of the South. The port of Malaga, in close proximity to the destination of the expedition, was in his power. It is true that the republics of Italy, united by a common faith and sympathizers in a common cause, had long been allies of the Christian kingdoms of Northern Spain. But something more than hatred of the Moslem and devotion to the interests of the Church must have impelled Alfonso VII. to undertake an enterprise of certain difficulty and of doubtful success. A foe that had vanquished a dynasty whose armies had repeatedly desolated his kingdom and insulted his capital already menaced his borders. It is highly probable that the Pope, influenced by temporal far more than by spiritual considerations, may have proposed or even dictated the terms of this alliance. It was no unusual thing for the Holy Father, whose vow of poverty, like many other moral obligations, gave him little concern, to share in the profits of commerce. The private revenues of His Holiness, often inadequate to the prodigal expenditures required for the pomp and luxury of the Vatican, could easily be increased by mercantile speculations, and the Moorish corsair in his indiscriminate depredations would certainly not respect the property of the highest dignitary of a hostile faith. The character of Eugenius III. gives color to this hypothesis. His court, under the threadbare cloak of asceticism, was shockingly corrupt. The institution of begging friars, the imposition of frequent penances, the observation of fasts, the performance of pilgrimage, could not conceal from the eyes of the least discerning the universal and notorious profligacy which infected every profession and every class of society in Rome. The avarice of the Pope himself was proverbial. Blessings, indulgences, and absolutions, whose prices were regulated by an established tariff, were sold by the clergy, and wealthy or repentant sinners in multitudes availed themselves of the facilities for wickedness or of the immunity from ecclesiastical censure afforded by traffic in this spiritual merchandise. The mercenary and grasping disposition of Eugenius was also subsequently confirmed by his sale of Portugal to Alfonso Henriquez, in flagrant contravention of the rights of the King of Castile. These circumstances serve to explain the unprofitable siege of a distant seaport by a power having no immediate interest in its subjugation, when a vigorous campaign by the united Christians would in all probability have prevented the renewed calamities of African invasion and have materially accelerated the progress of the Reconquest.

The sacred character of an enterprise openly patronized by the Holy See, and directed by some of the greatest princes of Europe, attracted volunteers from every country in Christendom. As usual, the prospect of booty was a much more potent incentive than the punishment of infidels or the propagation of the Faith. Almeria, which, aided by its geographical situation, had had the good fortune to escape the evils of conquest and anarchy that afflicted other Andalusian cities, was still the seat of affluence and power. Under the khalifate it had been the most populous and flourishing emporium of Spain. Civil war, so far from impairing its prosperity, had actually contributed to it. It still retained the manufacturing establishments whose products were exported to the limits of the civilized world. Many of the latter, such as pottery and silk, were unequalled in quality and finish, and could nowhere else be obtained. The proficiency of the artisans of Almeria in their respective avocations was proverbial, and had been acquired by experience and inheritance through many generations. The city exhibited the political phenomenon of a Moslem republic; its affairs were directed by a council presided over by a magistrate who, without openly claiming them, exercised the prerogatives of an absolute ruler. Its naval force could vie in numbers and strength with that of the most formidable commercial state of the Mediterranean. The practice of piracy had been so lucrative that the wealth and population of Almeria had greatly increased, and the ancient walls no longer sufficed to contain the innumerable houses of the citizens and the villas of the aristocracy, which, environed by plantations of tropical trees, extended for miles beyond the fortifications. The citadel was one of the largest and strongest in Europe. While closely connected by blood and sympathy with the nations of Africa, the inhabitants of the city were independent of all factions, recognized the pretensions of no dynasty, and acknowledged the authority of no government save that of their own. A force not unworthy of an Oriental crusade assembled for the conquest of this piratical stronghold. The armies of Castile, of Leon, of Aragon, of Navarre, the Counts of Montpellier and Catalonia, the combined navies of Genoa, Pisa, and Venice, and thousands of soldiers of fortune, serving in bands under their respective commanders, but without a standard and without a country, responded to the crusading appeal. No estimate of the allied host has come down to us, but its numbers were so overwhelming that not a single Moslem prince dared to assist his countrymen; and the Almerians, closely invested, without means of defence and destitute of all hope of relief, after a two months’ blockade surrendered. By the terms of capitulation, safety of their persons was assured; an unusual concession in those times, and one which indicates the introduction of a spirit of good faith and humanity into the hitherto barbarous usages of war. The Italians, by superior dexterity or assurance, obtained the larger share of the spoil; the city itself, the most valuable prize, was allotted to the Count of Barcelona, the proximity of whose dominions afforded the best security for its retention as a Christian possession; and the King of Castile, who had been the soul of the undertaking, and whose followers had been over-reached in the division of booty, was forced to be content with the conscious satisfaction of success and the profuse but empty congratulations of the Holy See. The enterprise achieved, the allied army dispersed with the unceremonious haste characteristic of enlistments under feudal institutions. Deficiency of experience and absence of discipline; impatience of the delay and inaction implied by a lengthy campaign; the want of cohesion exhibited by a force consisting of different nationalities and divided by conflicting interests; apprehension of the storms of winter in an unknown climate, dissipated in a day a force capable of the greatest military exploits.

The thirty thousand Almohades who had occupied, almost without bloodshed, much of the Andalusian territory, and were forced to remain in inactivity behind the walls of the cities which had fallen into their hands, viewed with surprise the vast preparations of the Christians and the insignificant results of their campaign. The numbers of the Africans, insufficient in themselves and distributed among a score of garrisons, were unable to cope with the enemy, and the present embarrassment of Abd-al-Mumen precluded the hope of pecuniary aid or effective reinforcements. A new Mahdi had arisen among the sands of Al-Maghreb. Of plebeian origin and menial employment,—for he earned a livelihood washing garments in the environs of Salé,—without learning or personal attractions, his rude eloquence soon collected around him a numerous body of disciples. The remains of the Almoravide faction, all those who were dissatisfied with the present government, individuals allured by the charm of novelty, thousands of proselytes, sincerely convinced of the mission of the new prophet, repaired to the hostile camp. Before Abd-al-Mumen fully realized his peril his armies had been beaten and scattered, his ablest lieutenants killed, his dominions, acquired with so much difficulty, seized by his rival, and his authority confined to the cities of Fez and Morocco, whose populace, habituated to revolt and disorder, could not be trusted. He was now enabled to appreciate the inconstant and treacherous character of the nations over whom he had established a nominal empire. Fortune, however, proved in the end propitious to the chief of the Almohades; his rival was defeated in a pitched battle and killed, and his fickle subjects returned to their allegiance with the same enthusiasm with which they had so recently renounced it.

In the mean time, after the capture of Almeria, the Christians began again to exert their power in every Moslem province of the Peninsula. The Count of Barcelona, supported by the Italian fleets, invested and took Tortosa, which commanded the mouth of the Ebro. Its submission was followed by the conquest of Lerida, Fraga, and Mequinenza, and the great river of Aragon, now open to the sea, marked for a brief period the gradually contracting boundary of the Moorish possessions of Eastern Spain. The rising monarchy of Portugal, for the first time beginning to assert itself among nations, acquired renewed prestige by the capture of Cintra and Lisbon. The movements of Ibn-Gamia, whose valor and activity still sustained the sinking fortunes of the Almoravide cause, stimulated the Almohades to exertion. Worsted in several encounters, he retired to Cordova, but, unable to maintain his ground, he placed his lieutenant Yahya in command and effected a retreat by night after the Almohades had encamped before the city. Yahya, by a prompt submission, averted the carnage which in these wars inevitably followed a protracted defence, and the ancient metropolis of the khalifate once more submitted to the rule of a foreign master. In the Great Mosque, the scene of so many triumphs and humiliations, which had witnessed the installation of a long succession of Moslem princes, the public exhibition of the trophies of conquest, the murder of magistrates, the tumults of revolution, Abd-al-Mumen was proclaimed Emir of the Mussulmans of Spain. The fierce spirit of the invaders seems to have been restrained by the dangers of the situation, the uncertainty of support, and the activity of the Christians, considerations which rendered leniency towards the vanquished not only politic but necessary. Carmona was soon added to the Almohade conquests and Ibn-Gamia fled to Granada, where he afterwards fell in battle. His partisans then espoused in a body the cause of Alfonso of Castile. With this open defection the condition of the Spanish Moslems became more desperate. Divided among themselves, with half of their best soldiers fighting under the banners of their hereditary foe, apparently abandoned by the prince raised to imperial power in the religious centre of the kingdom, without resources, without prospect of assistance, nothing but the presence of the Almohades preserved the relics of the khalifate from immediate absorption by the kingdoms of Castile and Aragon. Finally, Abd-al-Mumen, having consolidated his empire in Africa, and moved by the entreaties of his Andalusian subjects, who sent a deputation of five hundred citizens to invoke his aid, despatched an army under his son Abu-Said to the Peninsula. The city of Almeria, whose situation, in a strategic point of view, commanded the coast of Africa, was the object of the expedition. The siege having been formed, an ineffectual attempt was made by Alfonso for the relief of the garrison, after which it was abandoned to its fate. The forces of Abd-al-Mumen not being able to blockade the port, it was found impossible to reduce the place by famine, and the strength of the fortifications precluded all hope of taking it by storm. The patience and endurance of the garrison, however, were exhausted by constant alarms and by the indefatigable perseverance of the enemy, and the Moslems, after an exclusion of ten years, regained possession of the most formidable stronghold of Andalusia.

This decisive success was supplemented by other and scarcely less important achievements. The populous city of Niebla, a dependency of Seville, was stormed by Abu-Zacaria, who had been one of the Almohade commanders during the former invasion. Its stubborn resistance provoked the commission of the greatest barbarities in the hour of triumph. No male of mature years survived the carnage of the assault. In compliance with the customs of Berber warfare, the children were destined for the slave market, the women for the seraglio. Such was the unbridled fury of the conqueror that in a single suburb of the ill-fated city eight thousand victims of African savagery paid the last penalty of defeat. The arms of the Almohades were now turned against Granada. That capital, after a short and bloody resistance, was carried by the troops of Abu-Said, and the horrors of Niebla were repeated upon the Christian garrison, who atoned with their lives for the ill-advised alliance of the last representatives of the Almoravides with the sovereign of Castile. The capture of Granada marks the final descent from power of that party whose tyranny and depredations had for almost a generation disturbed the peace of the Peninsula.

The experience of Abd-al-Mumen with treacherous vassals and daring impostors made him reluctant to leave his capital, constantly exposed to revolution, for the sake of confirming his power over the Moslem states of Spain. And, indeed, there seemed to be but little necessity for his personal appearance in Andalusia. In addition to the native auxiliaries there were now fifty thousand Almohade veterans in that country. His generals had demonstrated their ability for command on many fields of battle. The principal cities of the South—Cordova, Seville, Carmona, Granada, Malaga, Almeria, Badajoz—were garrisoned by his troops. His armies had as yet sustained no repulse; the most fertile districts furnished them with abundant subsistence; a considerable tribute was collected from the Jews and Mozarabes, who were compelled to pay liberally for privileges and protection which they did not enjoy; Alfonso VII., the most redoubtable enemy of the Moslems, had recently died, and the other Christian princes, doubtful of their strength, hesitated to confront the victorious Almohade squadrons. Although determined not to imperil his crown by a prolonged absence from his capital, Abd-al-Mumen paid a visit to Gibraltar, which he strongly fortified, and where he received the homage of the various officials of his recently acquired dominions.

Almost simultaneously with the disappearance of the Almoravides a new champion of Hispano-Arab independence arose in the east of the Peninsula. Mohammed-Ibn-Saad, Prince of Valencia, attempted, but without success, to oppose the authority of the hated Africans. Routed before Granada, he organized another army in the Alpujarras and, reinforced by a body of Christians from Toledo, again tried the fortunes of war under the walls of Cordova. The bravery of the Andalusians availed little in the presence of the invincible veterans of Abd-al-Mumen. They were cut to pieces, and their leader, Ibn-Saad, escaping with difficulty, fled to Murcia.

The martial spirit of Abd-al-Mumen was not enfeebled either by increasing physical infirmities or by the accumulated weight of years. The unsettled state of affairs in Spain and the unsatisfactory results accomplished by his generals, whose victories, however brilliant, seemed to inflict but trifling injury on the enemy, convinced him of the necessity for an aggressive and decisive campaign. The innumerable tribes, provinces, and kingdoms of Africa united under his sceptre had submitted without murmur or hesitation to the exercise of despotic power. The wisdom of his administration, the severity with which rebels and outlaws were punished, diffused a wholesome dread of his anger throughout the vast Almohade monarchy, more extensive even than that ruled by any of his predecessors and reaching from the Mediterranean to the south of the Sahara, from the Atlantic to the valley of the Nile. Supplies sufficient for the maintenance of an immense army were collected at Tangier, Algeziras, Gibraltar. Then the proclamation of the Holy War was issued. There responded to that welcome summons nearly half a million men. But before they could be assembled and organized for action, Abd-al-Mumen expired, bequeathing his throne and the execution of his projects of ambition to his third and favorite son, Abu-Yakub-Yusuf, a prince eminently worthy of the responsibilities imposed upon him by paternal favor and the caprice of fortune.

The character of Abd-al-Mumen presents an epitome of the homely virtues and ferocious vices of the Desert. In the attainment of his ends he was seldom swayed by considerations of pity, honor, or benevolence. He never shrank from indiscriminate butchery in the heat of battle. He seldom hesitated to pardon a defeated and submissive foe. In the dispensation of justice the culprit promptly underwent the extreme penalty of violated law. The attention of the founder of a stupendous empire was not entirely engrossed by schemes of war and conquest. He established schools and colleges in the larger cities of his dominions, fostered literature, encouraged art. The most talented and accomplished teachers in the entire realm of Islam were attracted to his court, where, honored with the friendship and enriched by the liberality of their royal patron, their efforts were directed to the education of youth. Three thousand of the latter, selected from the most distinguished families, were assembled in a university at the capital, where they not only profited by the instruction of learned professors, but were daily exercised in the military evolutions essential to a competent knowledge of the art of war—the manœuvring, the encampment, and the discipline of armies. Under the care of such a monarch the city of Morocco became a metropolis worthy of an empire which comprehended an hundred distinct tribes and nations, and whose opposite boundaries were separated by a four months’ journey. The royal residence and its gardens enclosed a vast area beautified by every resource of art and luxury. The inventive genius of skilful foreign artisans had provided both palace and mosque with many appliances of wonderful ingenuity,—doors which opened and closed apparently without human agency; pulpits and tribunes which, acting automatically, moved to and fro impelled by hidden mechanism; fountains whose jets, mysteriously controlled by valves and springs, were the perpetual delight and wonder of the people.

Under his administration hundreds of vessels were constructed; the navy-yards were enlarged and increased in number, and powerful fleets bearing the white standard of the Almohades maintained the dignity of the Sultan of Africa and Spain in every quarter of the Mediterranean.

The long reign of Abd-al-Mumen, who governed Spain entirely through his viceroys, was not less injurious to the interests of that country than the domination of the Almoravides had been. The plague of civil war, the menace of Christian conquest, the evils of revolution and anarchy, the ferocity of the remorseless conqueror, with whom resistance was an offence only to be expiated by death or slavery, were conditions fatal to agricultural and commercial prosperity. Moorish Spain, once the proud mistress of the Occident, the seat of learning and the arts, now the sport of fortune and the prey of savage hordes nurtured amidst the African deserts, was, with the passage of each decade, rapidly descending in the scale of civilization. Her political influence and the prestige of her name had disappeared. The wealth accumulated under the beneficent rule of the Ommeyade dynasty had either been dissipated in luxury or been borne away by barbarian invaders. The time was almost at hand when a religious tyranny, more grievous in its burdens, more cruel in the inexorable severity of its decrees, than the worst examples of African despotism, was to be imposed on the descendants of a people which had made the Western Khalifate the seat of the most opulent, the most intellectual, the most powerful of nations.

Yusuf, the new Sultan of the Almohades, distrusting the loyalty of his subjects, and apprehensive of a disputed succession, had no sooner ascended the throne than he disbanded the great army collected by his father for the subjection of the Peninsula. A well-balanced and discriminating mind, an excellent education acquired under the direction of the most learned doctors of the age, unusual proficiency in the martial exercises practised with such assiduity by the Mauritanian youth, considerable experience in the arts of policy and in the conduct of campaigns, admirably fitted Yusuf for the cares of government. The summary measures adopted by his father to maintain public security, and his own well-established reputation for ability and resolution, preserved his accession from the dangers of revolt. A few insignificant demonstrations by the restless tribes of the Atlas, which were speedily and mercilessly repressed, disturbed the first few months of his reign. But no pretender rose to dispute his claims to sovereignty; no prophet ventured to arouse the credulous and fanatical swarms of the Desert; no concerted movement of discontented chieftains threatened the permanence of a monarchy which had been founded on revolution, and whose history had been marked by incessant turmoil and sedition. Satisfied with the peaceful condition of his African possessions, Yusuf, having sent to Spain twenty thousand of his choicest troops, after a short delay followed them, and, assuming the supreme command, established his residence at Seville. The discord existing between the petty rulers of the Moslem states, whose enmity was the more decided in proportion to their incapacity to indulge it, operated in the most signal manner to the advantage of his cause. Ibn-Saad, lord of Eastern Spain, whose kingdom included the cities of Murcia, Valencia, Alicante, Xativa, Denia, Lorca, many flourishing villages, and the most fertile portion of the Peninsula, was killed in an expedition to Minorca, and his sons, unable to defend their rich inheritance against both the Aragonese and the Almohades at once, entered into negotiations with Yusuf for the exchange of their territories for others less valuable, perhaps, but more secure, on the shores of Northern Africa. The bargain was soon concluded. The Murcian princes, eager to dispose of what they must otherwise inevitably lose, embarked for their new dominions; the daughter of Ibn-Saad, a pledge of the contract, became the wife of Yusuf, and the most valuable district in Spain—when the productiveness of the soil, the wealth and commercial advantages of the cities, and the density and industrious character of the population are considered—passed, without the hazards of a campaign or the loss of a single drop of blood, under the control of the Sultan of the Almohades.

It was not, however, by the peaceable arts of diplomacy alone that additions were made to the empire of Yusuf. In the west, Badajoz, repeatedly captured and retaken by Christian and Moslem, was occupied by his troops. At the head of a column of several thousand cavalry he ravaged the valley of the Tagus as far as the suburbs of Toledo. The border stronghold of Alcantara, long vaunted as impregnable, submitted to his arms. Nor was it on account of his military exploits that the name of Yusuf has been transmitted to the admiration of posterity. Although he passed but a year in the most enchanting of Andalusian cities, the evidences of his presence are to-day the principal, almost the sole, attractions of that beautiful capital. The memory of his genius and munificence have been perpetuated by the erection of quays, palaces, towers, whose stupendous dimensions are now the wonder of the modern engineer, and of mosques whose minarets were once incomparable models of architectural symmetry and elegance. He repaired and enlarged the Roman aqueduct, which still conducts from the springs of Alcalá the purest water for the use of Seville. He spanned the Guadalquivir with a bridge of boats, the counterpart and predecessor of the one which until within a century united the opposite banks of that broad and rapid stream. Its inundations, which had previously damaged property and imperilled life, were partially controlled by the construction of gigantic walls, which arrested the destructive torrent and turned it again into its proper channel. These structures served as quays, which, approached from the river-side by broad and easy stairways, greatly facilitated the unloading and shipment of merchandise. Near at hand were warehouses and magazines designed and erected by Yusuf, and whose convenience and capacity were not surpassed by those of any Mediterranean seaport. The defences of the city also claimed the attention of this wise and indefatigable monarch, whose care and vigilance no detail, however insignificant, seemed to escape. The ancient walls were repaired and new ones constructed. Numerous towers were added to command the river, among them the peculiar one now known as the Tower of Gold, where was once kept the royal treasure. In the heart of the city, and on the site of an ancient Christian church, a great mosque was founded. The plan was a rectangle of four hundred and fourteen by two hundred and seventy feet, and, although it could not in justice be considered a rival of that noble edifice, it was in many respects not far inferior to the peerless Djalma of Cordova. Its walls were fringed with Persian battlements and painted with many colors. Its arcades looked upon a court supplied with ever-murmuring fountains and fragrant with the odor of orange blossoms. Its hundreds of marble columns suggested the spoliation of many a Pagan temple. The ceiling was formed by domes of wood and stucco, whose geometrical patterns disclosed the correctness of taste and inexhaustible fertility of fancy characteristic of the labors of the Arab artist and gilder. Its mosaic pavements, its alabaster lattices, its curious arabesques presented finished types of Moorish decorative splendor nowhere more conspicuous than in his places of religious worship. At one corner of the building rose a minaret of moderate height but elaborate ornamentation, and diagonally opposite were laid the foundations of that famous tower now known as the Giralda, which, completed during the reign of the successor of Yusuf, still remains the finest specimen of Moslem architecture of its class in the world.

It was not alone in the improvement of his Spanish capital that the time and energy of the Almohade Sultan were expended. The military and naval advantages of Gibraltar had been early appreciated by the sovereigns of Africa. Its fortifications were now greatly extended and strengthened by the provident foresight of Yusuf, who recognized in its peculiar and impregnable situation the security of the Strait and the key of the Peninsula.

Summoned to Africa by the ravages of a pestilence which decimated the population of his kingdom, ignorant of medical knowledge, and abandoned to fatalism and the ministrations of charlatans, Yusuf was compelled to suspend the public works which had already produced such beneficial results amidst the decaying commerce and diminishing resources of Andalusia. The absence of the monarch became, as usual, the pretext for anarchy. With his departure the quarrels of ambitious governors of provinces and the harassing forays of the Christians were renewed. For the long period of eight years this condition of incessant and ruinous hostility continued. Then Yusuf resolved to accomplish the design matured by his father, but whose execution had been prevented by death. The Holy War was proclaimed. The forces of Africa were assembled at Ceuta, and Spain was invaded by one of the largest armies that had ever been marshalled on her soil. It is with interest that we read of the orderly but undisciplined progress of this great array. The tribes marched separately under their several sheiks. Each tribe carried its distinctive standard—the ensign of that which constituted the vanguard, the post of honor, was of blue and white silk spangled with golden crescents. In the centre of the host rode the monarch, surrounded by his negro guard, in whose equipment had been lavished all the wealth of barbaric magnificence. Before him was carried, as a talisman to insure success, the great Koran of Othman, which, having escaped the perils of many revolutions, had been sent to Morocco by the Almohades after their capture of Cordova. It was escorted by a company of a hundred Berber nobles, mounted upon superb Arabian horses whose velvet housings were embroidered with gold. This guard of honor carried lances inlaid with ivory and silver, from which fluttered pennons of many-colored silk. The casket in which was deposited the most priceless relic of Islam was the same which had been adorned by the emulous devotion and prodigality of many generations of Moslem princes. Its material of ebony and sandal-wood was entirely concealed by the multitude of jewels with which it was encrusted. The greater part of these were emeralds and rubies, and were kept in place by heavy settings of gold. They were arranged in arabesques, and in the centre of each design sparkled a magnificent ruby cut in horseshoe form. The casket was lined with green silk and cloth-of-gold, and a covering of the same material sowed with pearls and other precious stones concealed the treasure from the eyes of the multitude. Its weight, which was far from inconsiderable, was supported by a stately camel, whose burden was sheltered by a canopy on which were emblazoned in golden letters appropriate legends from the Koran. In the rear of the Sultan came the princes of the blood, the royal tributaries, and the grand officials of the empire. Seventy thousand infantry and thirty thousand cavalry composed the available force of the invaders, whose ranks were further augmented by at least a hundred thousand slaves and dependents. The army moved in four divisions, a day’s journey apart; at each halting-place provisions and forage had been collected, and the perfection of these arrangements, as well as the order maintained on the march, attested the military skill and executive ability of the Moslem general.

At Seville, designated as the rendezvous of the Spanish contingent, Yusuf was joined by several thousand Berber troops, who had served through many campaigns in the Peninsula. He then crossed the frontier of Portugal and besieged Santarem. This city, situated about fifty miles from Lisbon, was regarded as the bulwark of that capital. It was on the point of being taken, when Yusuf was surprised by an unexpected sally of the besiegers and mortally wounded. The Moslems, goaded to madness by this misfortune, drove back the attacking party, entered the gates with the fugitives, and ten thousand persons, massacred amidst the horrors of the unequal conflict, expiated the temporary and fatal success of a handful of their number. The death of the Sultan, which, to avoid political complications and civil war, was kept a secret, and did not become publicly known until his successor, Abu-Yakub-Ibn-Yusuf,—the ablest of his many sons, and who assumed the title of Al-Mansur-Billah,—a few weeks afterwards ascended the throne. The traits of Yusuf were those of a liberal, a just, a devout, a magnanimous ruler. He reduced taxation. He increased the imperial revenues. His inexorable severity was the terror of malefactors. Before his tribunals no suitor could complain of judicial oppression or venality. Under his administration, as under that of his father, the clergy were restricted to the performance of their religious duties, and were not permitted to usurp the functions or to absorb the revenues of the civil power. The cities were patrolled by a well-appointed and vigilant police, and law-abiding citizens were assured of protection. The banditti disappeared from the highways before the untiring pursuit of the authorities, who crucified every brigand as soon as he was captured. Never since the most flourishing days of the Ommeyade empire had the people of Moorish Spain enjoyed such security.

According to Moslem custom, Yakub signalized his ascent to the throne by acts of public charity and benevolence. He caused to be distributed as alms the sum of a hundred thousand pieces of gold. He increased the compensation of such officials as had honestly and faithfully administered the public service. The taxes of the poor were remitted, the tributes of the wealthy were reduced. The prisons were cleared of all offenders except such as were accused of capital crimes. Upon every magistrate was sedulously impressed the necessity for the strict yet merciful enforcement of the laws. The army was placed under better discipline, the pay of the soldiers was increased, and the sanitary conditions of the barracks and the camp improved. In both Spain and Africa new fortresses were erected at points peculiarly exposed to the incursions of an enemy. Great sums were expended in the improvement and the construction of highways, and the bridges were placed in perfect repair, that no obstacle might exist to the rapid movement of couriers or to easy military communication between the seat of government and the frontiers of the empire. At regular intervals along these thoroughfares, wells were dug and stations established for the shelter of travellers and the convenience of troops. The obligations of religion and the demands of knowledge were not neglected by this devout and generous ruler. Mosques, richly adorned, were built in every considerable town and city, and attached to them were institutions of learning, where gratuitous instruction was furnished to the poor but aspiring student. The sufferings of the afflicted were relieved by the establishment of hospitals, presided over by physicians and surgeons thoroughly versed in the medical science of the age. To such a degree had the traditions and example of the Western Khalifate awakened the noble emulation of the greatest prince who ever traced his origin to an African ancestor.

The commencement of the reign of Yakub, like those of his predecessors, was distracted by war and sedition. The remains of the Almoravide faction, established in the Balearic Isles, instigated by delusive representations the tribes of the Desert and the malcontents of the Peninsula to insurrection. Their efforts were, however, incapable of seriously endangering the power of Yakub. The leaders were arrested, and the adoption of the most energetic measures soon restored the public tranquillity. The repentant Berbers implored with success the royal clemency; and two of the brothers of the Sultan, involved in the common guilt, were sacrificed to the stern demands of justice and fraternal indignation.

At the head of a splendidly appointed army Yakub then passed into Spain. At his approach, all who had wavered in fidelity or had taken up arms hastened to solicit forgiveness and renew their obligations of fealty. The expedition, which was merely a reconnoissance, penetrated without difficulty as far as Lisbon. The degree of its success may be inferred from the fact that the booty is said to have exceeded in value any heretofore secured by any foreign invader in the Peninsula excepting Musa, and that the captives who followed in the train of the conqueror amounted to the respectable number of thirteen thousand.

The crusading spirit, then at its height in Europe, soon offered the King of Portugal an opportunity for retaliation. A large body of Flemish and English knights and men-at-arms, on their way to the Holy Land, disembarked at Lisbon to avoid, during the winter months, the inconveniences of a protracted voyage and the proverbial dangers of the Spanish coast. These adventurers accepted with avidity the tempting proposals of the Portuguese king. The Moorish territory was invaded by the crusaders, co-operating with a force of native troops; and the cities of Evora, Beja, and Silves became the prey of the most licentious soldiery in Europe. The latter place, which had surrendered under articles of capitulation to Sancho, King of Portugal, was, in violation of the laws of war and of every principle of justice, abandoned to the tender mercies of the foreigners. Out of a population of sixty thousand barely one-fifth escaped with life and liberty. The majority of these were Jews, whose commercial relations with the countries of Western Europe gave them influence with the Christian commanders, while the presence of numbers of their countrymen in the enemy’s camp contributed in no small degree to their security. This immunity was not obtained, however, without the payment of an exorbitant ransom; the city was pillaged amidst indescribable scenes of cruelty, and many of the crusaders, renouncing the pious cause in which they had embarked, remained in Silves as subjects of the King of Portugal.

Fortune did not suffer them long to retain the fruits of their bad faith and rapacity. Orders were issued from Morocco to retrieve the disgrace sustained by the Moslems, and Mohammed, governor of Cordova, having invaded the lost territory, stormed one after another the places which had tempted the avarice of the adventurous foreigners; the horrors of the previous capture were repeated and even surpassed, and the Christians in their turn experienced the bitterness of defeat and the calamities of servitude. Fourteen thousand male captives, chained together, were paraded through the streets of Cordova, and fifteen thousand women, distributed through the Moslem communities of Spain and Africa, attested the fearful retribution exacted by the lieutenant of the Sultan.

Three years after this event, Yakub, who in the midst of extensive projects for the amelioration of his people had never relinquished those plans of conquest which formed so important a feature in the policy of every active Moslem prince, prepared for a grand campaign against the Christians of Castile. The imperial forces, amounting to three hundred thousand men, were transported across the Strait without difficulty, and this mighty armament, for which the resources of the governors of Andalusia were greatly taxed to provide subsistence, began its march into the interior. Yakub, weary of unprofitable forays and of expeditions which inflicted no permanent injury upon the enemy, had resolved to attempt a most perilous and doubtful enterprise. The city of Toledo, whose geographical position, impregnable fortifications, and national prestige as the military centre of the Castilian monarchy made it the most important strategic point in the entire Peninsula, was the main object of his ambition. The political condition of the Christian kingdoms, whose princes, again influenced by mutual hatred, regarded with complacency the distress of their neighbors, was peculiarly favorable to the designs of the Moslems. Portugal and Leon were embroiled with the Holy See. Its interference with the royal prerogatives and its unsolicited participation in the religious disputes of those states were regarded with undisguised disapproval by a people which had never explicitly recognized the jurisdiction of the Supreme Pontiff. The jealousies of power and the hope of profiting by the discord of their rivals kept aloof from each other the kingdoms of Castile, Navarre, and Aragon. It was by the former of these, unaided and alone, that the shock of the impending tempest was to be sustained; while the other monarchies, removed from the seat of war, might await in temporary security the issue of the inevitable conflict. Alfonso VIII., who had aroused the ire and hastened the invasion of Yakub by a challenge couched in all the extravagant terms of Spanish rodomontade, now realized to the full the disastrous effects of his untimely insolence. In vain, in his extremity, he appealed to the piety, the patriotism, the martial spirit of the neighboring Christian princes. The King of Aragon returned no answer. Alarmed by the reports of the immense preparations of Yakub, the King of Navarre had not hesitated to open secret negotiations with him, with a view to preserving his possessions as a vassal of the Moslem. The sole auxiliaries who responded to the entreaties of Alfonso were a handful of French knights, with their retainers, from the districts of Provence and Gascony. With these, with the brethren of the military orders, and with his own forces, whose united number has not been mentioned in the chronicles, but which was greatly inferior to that of the Africans, Alfonso calmly awaited the approach of the enemy below the castle of Alarcos, not far from Calatrava.

At dawn, on one of the most memorable days in the annals of the Reconquest, the hostile armies prepared for battle. The arrangement of the Moslems indicated a degree of military ability scarcely to be expected from the rude tacticians of the age. The Almohades formed the left wing, the right was held by the Andalusians, in the centre were placed the picked troops of the empire, veterans of many campaigns. Behind the first line were ranged the African volunteers, armed principally with missile weapons, whose solid mass was intended to aid the foremost ranks in repelling the charge of the Christian cavalry. The manœuvres were immediately directed by the generals of the Sultan; for Yakub, at the head of his guards and a reserve of several thousand of his bravest troops, remained in ambush within easy access of the field, equally ready at a moment’s notice to retrieve disaster or to burst unexpectedly and with crushing force upon the disordered ranks of a terrified and flying enemy. The position of the Christians had been most advantageously chosen. The gently ascending slope of a mountain, with a steep acclivity at the rear, its sides defended by the deeply worn channels of mountain torrents, was occupied by their camp. With characteristic disregard of prudence the Castilians began the fray. Eight thousand knights in complete armor charged with terrific force the centre of the Moslem line of battle. Twice they recoiled before the solid mass of the enemy, but the third effort was successful; his line was pierced, his ranks were thrown into confusion, and the Christians, elated by a temporary advantage which they thoughtlessly magnified into victory, indulged to the utmost their savage instincts, infuriated as they were by the unexpected resistance they had encountered. But the field was not yet won. As they rushed forward in their bloody course, the impetuous cavaliers were insensibly surrounded by the active Mauritanian cavalry and the archers, who had been drawn up on the flanks of the African army; and, their retreat cut off, they were at once overwhelmed by numbers. In the mean time, the skill and coolness of the Moslem general, Al-Senani, who commanded the broken line, had enabled him to consolidate its wings, not as yet engaged, and, rallying the stragglers, he made a determined attack upon the enemy’s camp. Thus, in different parts of the field two battles were in progress, in which a portion of each army constituted the assailants. Of the knights who had so boldly hurled themselves against the Moslem host, but few escaped the spears and arrows of the Almohades. Despite the strength of the Christian position, it was taken by Al-Senani and his Andalusians, and the picked Castilian troops, unable to withstand the shock of the Moslem charge, were utterly routed. The heavy armor of the chivalry of Alfonso impeded their movements and delayed their flight; their senses were bewildered by the din and tumult of battle, and the fierce Mauritanian horsemen, strangers to pity in the hour of triumph, were deaf to the supplications of a defeated and helpless foe. The manifest exaggerations of the ancient chronicles render it impossible to form even an approximately correct estimate of the Christian loss. It must, however, have been enormous; but the proximity of the mountains, inaccessible to the Moorish cavalry, undoubtedly preserved numbers who would otherwise have perished. Twenty thousand prisoners taken in Alarcos, which fortress was stormed immediately after the battle, were liberated without exchange or ransom, an act of unusual generosity, which, while acquiring for Yakub the unfavorable criticism of his subjects, was considered an evidence of weakness by the ungrateful recipients of his favor, incapable of understanding such indulgence in wars ordinarily waged with indescribable barbarity.

The fruits of this great victory were limited to the possession of a few thousand captives and the plunder of the Castilian camp. At no time had the Christian territory been more vulnerable to the attack of an invader than after the battle of Alarcos. The power of Castile was temporarily destroyed. Navarre, intimidated by the approach of the Moslems, was now ready for the oath of fealty and the humiliating rendition of tribute. Leon was also suspected of entertaining secret negotiations with Yakub, whose influence had not improbably contributed to the inimical relations generally existing between the Christian states of Northern Spain. Aragon, deprived of its sovereign and arrayed against its neighbors, was a prey to political intrigue as well as exposed to the danger of foreign conquest. Portugal alone, protected in a measure by her remoteness from the seat of war, resolutely upheld by her uncompromising attitude the sinking fortunes of the Christian arms.

Many causes conspired to render the campaigns of the Moslems indecisive. Their armies, composed of many nations and commanded by numerous generals, were incapable of thorough organization and discipline. The powers of high officials claiming equal authority, undefined by law and unconfirmed by precedent, were subject to constant and vexatious interference. Prolonged operations were viewed with disfavor by soldiers accustomed to the independent movements and rapidly shifting scenes of partisan warfare. A victory was, to the morale of such a force, almost as detrimental as a defeat. The ordinarily powerful incentives to conquest—the propagation of the Faith, the hope of martial renown, the prospect of territorial acquisition—were forgotten in the desire to enjoy without delay the fruits of activity and courage. Wholesale desertions were the inevitable consequences of success. Military expeditions in the Peninsula were not, since it had become a dependency of Africa, carried on with the systematic regularity which aimed at permanent occupancy. Towns were usually pillaged and burnt. The country was desolated, the population enslaved. But it was rare that a garrison was placed in a captured city, and new fortresses were no longer erected to guard the security of the frontier. The frontier, indeed, had become the uncertain boundary of a debatable land, a region which the constant incursions of enemies had transformed into a waste, whose limits, ever shifting, were yet steadily encroaching on the Moslem domain. The fortunes of a mere province, however valuable and extensive it might be, could excite but a languid and transitory interest amidst the plots and revolutions of a distant and turbulent capital. After a foray into Castile directed by Christian refugees and renegades with real or fictitious grievances to avenge, the Moslems retired from the campaign, and the opportunity afforded by the battle of Alarcos was irretrievably lost. The next spring was passed in unprofitable excursions into Castile and Estremadura. Calatrava and Guadalajara were taken, and Salamanca was stormed and burnt to the ground after having submitted to the utmost excesses of a barbarian enemy. The absence of organized resistance, the general consternation which prevailed in every Christian community, the craven behavior of great princes, who solicited with abject humility the protection of the Almohade Sultan; the extraordinary facility with which one fortress after another was occupied by the Moslems, indicate the universal demoralization consequent upon the rout of Alarcos. A campaign conducted with energy and determination must have resulted in the complete overthrow of the Christian monarchies of the North. But Yakub, destitute of the most eminent qualifications of a commander, wasted his time and consumed the strength of his soldiers in predatory enterprises which yielded neither military distinction nor political advantage, while his enemies expected in constant terror the appearance of the squadrons which had annihilated the knights of the monastic orders, the pride of Christian Spain, and had trampled under foot the Castilian chivalry, already illustrious for endurance and prowess among the famous warriors of Europe. An attempt, indeed, was made upon Toledo, the original object of the invasion, behind whose walls the fugitives of Alarcos had taken refuge; but the old Visigothic capital, which had issued victorious from a hundred sieges, was not to be hastily reduced by an enemy ignorant as yet of the destructive force of gunpowder. A few days demonstrated the futility of an attack where the deficiencies of military engineering could not be compensated by superiority in numbers, and the King of Castile was fortunate enough to negotiate a truce with the Sultan, now alarmed by reports of sedition in his own dominions. The return of the latter preceded only a short time his sudden and unexpected death. He was a prince who, of all the descendants of African dynasties, was most worthy of the honors of imperial greatness, and it was not without propriety that he assumed the title of Al-Mansur, The Victorious. Under his reign his countrymen probably attained to the highest degree of civilization and intellectual development of which their race is capable. Experience had repeatedly proven that the innate savagery of the Berber was incorrigible. The benefits of education, habitual association with the learned and the polite, familiarity with the finest literary productions of preceding ages, the daily presence of architectural monuments of unrivalled splendor, were unable to efface the barbarous instincts inherited through unnumbered generations of roving banditti. Like the Arab, a freebooter by birth and inclination, the Berber abandoned with reluctance and resumed with delight the unsettled and precarious existence of his forefathers. No political affinity existed between the various divisions of the African race. Of such components an enduring empire could not be constructed. When temporarily united, they were held together solely by the unnatural and artificial influences of force and fear; the principles of mutual co-operation, of national pride, of devoted loyalty, which constitute at once the security and the glory of a nation, were absent. The first three princes of the Almohade line were pre-eminently conspicuous for their talents, their firmness, their political sagacity. Their reigns, while characterized by more or less severity, the consequence of peculiar political conditions, were neither oppressive nor unjust. No restrictions were laid on commerce. The burdens of taxation were lightened and illegal impositions abolished. Many internal improvements were planned and perfected. The administration of justice was purified and corrupt magistrates punished. The religious sentiment, dominant in the minds of an ignorant people, was gratified by the erection of sumptuous temples. The prosecution of extensive military operations, the enslavement of entire tribes, the sack of opulent cities, the achievement of sweeping victories, the extermination of armies, were calculated to secure the attachment and confirm the allegiance of a people passionately devoted to the stirring excitements of war. But so capricious and disloyal was the African, that neither the enjoyment of present favor nor the expectation of future benefit could insure his fidelity. He was wholly careless of the advantages of civilization. His superstition made him the facile dupe of every impostor. The Almohade sovereigns lived in constant apprehension of dethronement. If they left Africa for Spain, the desert tribes were certain to rebel. As soon as they had recrossed the Strait, Andalusia rose in arms. The death of an ignorant charlatan, who in a short time had restricted the empire of Abd-al-Mumen to two cities, alone saved that monarch and his dynasty from destruction. The annals of his son and grandson are a bloody chronicle of insurrections, massacres, executions. The Berber element, while abhorred by the Arabs, had yet so permeated the society of the Peninsula that every department of government, every rank and profession of men, had been infected with its poison. Under such conditions political regeneration was impossible. No reformer, no conqueror, could avert the final catastrophe,—a catastrophe inevitable in the decadence of nations,—subjection to a foreign enemy actuated by religious fanaticism, military ambition, and inflexibility of purpose. The victory of Alarcos was the closing triumph of Islam in the Peninsula, and with the reign of Yakub disappeared the last opportunity for the restoration of Moslem power.

It is not, however, by his conquests, the extent of his dominions, or the splendor of his court that Yakub-al-Mansur is best known to us. The Giralda, or minaret, which towered over the mosque of Seville, and now, for the most part intact, is the principal ornament of its cathedral, is the greatest monument to his fame. The stately temple to which it was attached, founded by Yusuf, and almost a quarter of a century in building, was at last finished by his son. The spoils of many a foray, the wealth of many a conquered city, the plunder of many a Christian sanctuary, were devoted to its construction. Gold and silver obtained from the sacramental vessels of violated altars glittered upon its walls. Its masonry had been laid by the painful labor of hundreds of captives. Its foundations stand upon a base composed of busts, statues, bas-reliefs, and carvings taken from the Roman structures abounding in the vicinity, and many of which represented the finest efforts of classic taste and imperial magnificence. To strict observers of Moslem law,—and none adhered more closely to the letter of its provisions than the Almohades,—every representation of the human form was classed as idolatrous, and the effigies of the emperors, statesmen, and orators of antiquity were buried far beneath the walls of the Giralda, that the eyes of the Faithful might no longer be offended by what were ignorantly presumed to be objects of Pagan adoration; and that the spiritual as well as the material supremacy of Islam might be symbolized by the erection over these infidel memorials of the most imposing and beautiful edifice of its kind that has ever been devised by the genius of man.

Its base is a square of fifty feet; its original height was three hundred. For eighty-seven feet from the foundation the walls are of stone blocks fitted with the greatest nicety, and once polished to the smoothness of glass. The superstructure is of brick, and almost covered with graceful arabesque patterns in terra-cotta. Each side is divided into six panels with the designs in bas-relief, the panels resting upon ogival arches sustained by marble columns sunk into the masonry. In the central panels are a series of ajimezes, or Moorish windows, whose compartments are separated by miniature columns of alabaster. A charming variety and elegance exist in their arrangement and decoration; the openings are symmetrical but unequally disposed, and the terra-cotta patterns, while they exhibit a general similarity, are unlike in detail, no two faces of the tower exactly resembling each other. The minaret as originally designed was crowned with battlements, and was surmounted by another tower eight cubits in height, of similar plan but of much more elaborate ornamentation. Above the latter structure rose a bar sustaining four bronze balls of different sizes, placed one above the other. The general color of the building was a brilliant red, due to the bricks of which it was principally composed. Within this bright setting the sunken arabesques glowed with all the splendor of the richest damask. The interstitial portions of the designs were painted with scarlet, azure, green, and purple, the parts in relief were gilded. The maze of gold and color was at once tempered and defined by the duller framing and by the white, translucent, alabaster columns of the central panels. Around the summit of the principal tower was a mosaic of intricate pattern and many colors. The beauty of the gorgeous tints that under the sunlight of Southern Spain exhibited the refulgence of the rainbow was heightened by the use of tiles covered with gold leaf, whose enamelled covering imparted a brilliancy not even exceeded by the burnished metal itself. Upon the superstructure had been lavished all the exquisite taste and skill of the Moorish and the Byzantine artisan. Its sides presented a complicated and elegant mosaic of white, blue, and gold. Its parapet blazed with that precious metal, and above ascended, in regular gradation, the row of immense gilded globes, visible to the approaching or to the departing caravan for the space of more than a day’s journey. The largest of these was nearly twenty feet in diameter; the surfaces of all were deeply grooved, the better to reflect the light; and the iron bar which sustained them, and which was also plated with gold, weighed nearly a thousand pounds.

The interior of the famous minaret presents some extraordinary, not to say unique, architectural features. Its walls are nine feet in thickness at the base, and, instead of decreasing in dimensions, become still more solid as they rise, until the capacity of the structure near the summit is but little more than half what it is at the bottom. The ascent is made by thirty-five ramps, or inclined planes, resting upon vaults and arches, and supported by a shaft of masonry built in the centre of the tower.

It was to the architects of Constantinople that the Moors were indebted for this excellent substitute for the stairway, by which the loftiest buildings could be ascended with comparatively slight fatigue. Byzantine influence, which has left such an impress upon the architecture of Venice, has provided its towers with this ingenious device, of which the Campanile offers a familiar example. Instances of its employment also exist in many cities of Africa, some of whose mosques, constructed by the Almohades, present, upon a greatly reduced scale, minarets in form and decoration almost counterparts of the Giralda as it was in the day of its original splendor. It is not uninteresting to note that the architect who superintended the completion of the Giralda was Abu-Layth, a Sicilian, whose country, long a province of Constantinople, had never, even under Moslem domination, completely abandoned the traditions or renounced the influence of the Christian capital of the East.

Mohammed-Ibn-Yakub, whose hereditary title had been confirmed by the exercise of regal authority during the lifetime of his father, succeeded to the perilous honors of the Almohade throne. A prince of amiable character but mediocre talents, without ambition and destitute of self-reliance, his accession augured ill for the maintenance of order among a score of jealous nations, which all the genius of great statesmen and warriors had hardly sufficed to restrain within the bounds of loyalty and discipline. The death of Yakub was the signal for revolt to the turbulent spirits who inhabited the mountains of Fez, and their defection was immediately followed by a formidable insurrection in the Balearic Isles. There, where Almoravide influence was nourished by descendants of that family,—who, expelled from the main-land, had for a time enjoyed in that sequestered region a nominal independence,—the standard of rebellion was raised by Yahya, an active partisan, who traced his descent from the last Almoravide emperor, Yusuf-Ibn-Tashfin. The sedition of the mountain tribes was easily suppressed, but that of the Balearic Isles was far more serious, and demanded the adoption of the most stringent measures. The name of the Almoravides had by no means lost its potency in Africa. Among the inhabitants of the coast and the denizens of the Sahara, the exploits of the dynasty that had first consolidated the vagrant tribes of that continent into the semblance of a nation, had brought to their knowledge the benefits of letters and the arts, and had, by its conquests, raised them to the height of military glory, were still remembered. The sympathies of the people of the Balearic Isles were almost unanimously with the representatives of their ancient masters. Before such an event could be anticipated, an army landed on the coast of Africa. The Berbers, allured by novelty and by the prospect of license, began to show signs of discontent. The political agitation enveloped the northern portion of the Desert, and the following of the intrepid Yahya was increased by the enrolment of many warlike tribes. One element, however, and a most important one, was lacking to insure success. The enterprise of the Almoravides was a purely political one. In every revolution which had previously aroused the enthusiasm and enlisted the support of the Africans, religion was the alleged incentive and the most prominent feature. A certain degree of mystery, a plausible exhibition of imposture, were indispensable to the excitement and the control of the credulous and fanatical wanderers of the Sahara. No movement could prosper in that benighted region unless presided over by the sombre genius of superstition.

The first operations of Yahya were highly successful. Several fortresses along the coast opened their gates to the invader. The city of Almahadia was carried by storm. Kairoan, once the seat of the Fatimite khalifs, and still the centre of an extensive trade between the Desert and the Mediterranean, was threatened. The discernment of Mohammed convinced him that the occupation of this ancient capital would impart a dangerous impetus to the rebel cause, a contingency which must, at all hazards, be prevented. The young prince acted with extraordinary decision. The forces of Yahya were beaten. Some fortresses were retaken, others voluntarily submitted. The insurgent leader, hotly pursued by the enemy, was unable to re-embark, and was driven to implore the hospitality of his Berber allies in the heart of the Desert. A great force besieged Almahadia, which was bravely defended by the Almoravide governor, Al-Hadshi. But the courage and determination of the garrison could not prevail against the science of the Sicilian and Spanish engineers who served in the army of the Sultan. The walls were undermined. The towers were crushed by immense projectiles of iron and stone hurled against them from engines of novel construction and prodigious size. To avert the calamities of an assault, the city was surrendered. With a generosity without precedent in the annals of mediæval warfare, a general amnesty was proclaimed. The garrison was persuaded to enlist under the banners of the conqueror, and Mohammed, charmed with the gallantry of Al-Hadshi, received him into his confidence and conferred upon him an important command in his army.

The Balearic Isles, captured in 1115 by Raymond Berenger III., Count of Barcelona, and afterwards occupied by the surviving leaders of the Almoravide party, now for the first time in their history experienced the effects of Berber invasion. Majorca was devastated by the Mauritanian cavalry, its cities were burnt, and its population enslaved. Minorca and Ivica, profiting by this example, hastened to solicit the clemency of their sovereign, and the heads of the Almoravide chieftains, carefully embalmed with camphor and enclosed in an elegant casket, were sent to Morocco as conclusive evidence that nothing more was to be feared from a crushed and disorganized faction.

The propitious beginning of a reign fated to end in ruin and disgrace encouraged the youthful Sultan to undertake enterprises of far greater importance. The truce unwisely conceded by Yakub to the entreaties of the King of Castile had not yet expired. But the deliberate violation of a treaty contracted with an infidel was considered an offence scarcely worthy of absolution by the Christian casuists of that age. Present expediency alone regulated the observation of public engagements. The prince, who, to his own disadvantage, honorably fulfilled the terms of a contract with a Moslem, would have been rewarded with the derision of his subjects and the anathemas of the clergy. Long anterior to the time of Mendoza and Ximenes, who made the broadest application of that infamous principle, its adoption had been approved by both the civil and ecclesiastical powers of Christian Spain, and faith was kept with an unbeliever or a heretic only so long as it suited the convenience of the other contracting party.

The death of Yakub had in a measure revived the spirits of the disheartened Christians. Alfonso had succeeded with much difficulty in collecting the scattered fragments of his defeated army. The military orders, which had left their bravest members on the field of Alarcos, began to fill the vacancies in their decimated ranks. In the larger cities the impatient youth again longed for the excitements and the plunder of the foray. Importuned by the solicitations of his subjects, and fortified by the opinions and assurances of the clergy, Alfonso violated the truce and descended unexpectedly upon the plains of Baeza and Jaen. His success encouraged the organization of other expeditions, and the bloody scenes of former years were re-enacted, until no portion of Andalusia was secure from the ravages of the enterprising Christian partisan. The subjection of the Almoravide rebels had inspired Mohammed with a thirst for conquest, and with a desire to punish the perfidy and the boldness of an adversary who, but a few years before, had in abject and humiliating terms sued for peace. The proclamation of the Holy War was issued. The Berber chieftains and their followers responded with enthusiasm. With all the naval facilities of the empire at their command, nearly two months were required by the immense body of troops—more than three hundred thousand in number—for transportation across the Strait; and, assembled at Seville, their tents and bivouacs dotted the landscape for leagues around that city.

It was with the greatest consternation that tidings of the impending invasion were received by the Christians. From the presence of the African had dated not only the political misfortunes of the Peninsula, but the most serious disasters ever experienced by the Spanish arms. Thrice already in its history the landing of a Mussulman host had been the precursor of a national catastrophe. Sixteen years had passed since the fatal day of Alarcos, but the memory of that appalling defeat was still fresh in the memory of almost every family in Castile; and so destructive and wide-spread had been its effects that the resources of that kingdom, which had sustained the brunt of the attack, had never been completely restored. In the present emergency the Holy See was appealed to; the war against the Moslems was invested with the character and privileges of a crusade, and the anathemas of the Church were denounced against all who should impede the movements or assist the enemies of the King of Castile, now the champion of Christendom. Emissaries furnished with the letters of the Supreme Pontiff went forth from the Vatican to rouse the flagging religious spirit of Europe. While the entire country north of the Tagus was in a state of terror, and few preparations had been made for resistance, the army of the Sultan, organized in five grand divisions, broke camp at Seville. Remembering the issue of similar undertakings, the Christian population were stricken with the apathy of despair. Everything was favorable to the plans of Mohammed, and had he improved his opportunity the Moslem domination might have been re-established throughout the Peninsula. In the path of the invading force rose the castle of Salvatierra, a fortress of such insignificance that even its ruins cannot now be identified; but the conceit of the Sultan was so great that he was unwilling to leave behind him a single Christian stronghold, and the siege of an obscure frontier outpost, on whose endurance, however, now depended the destinies of Spain, was formed. In the indulgence of this foolish whim eight precious months passed away, while the severities of the season and the pangs of famine fast depleted the ranks of the Moorish army. The capture of Salvatierra was finally accomplished, at the greatest cost probably ever incurred in the conquest of a place of so little importance, and the Moslems retired to their quarters in Andalusia. Encouraged by this unexpected check of the enemy, the Christians, while realizing that the danger was only postponed, began to exhibit unwonted activity. Amidst the snows of winter, the warriors of Spain, about to make an expiring and desperate effort for the defence of their homes and the salvation of their country; crusading fanatics, animated by the fury of religious zeal, and representing almost every nationality of Europe; ferocious soldiers of fortune, whose swords still dripped with the blood of the Albigensian heretics; eminent prelates, who discharged with equal dexterity the duties of the confessional and the office of command, assembled at Toledo, once the civil and ecclesiastical centre of the Visigothic power, now the capital of a growing monarchy predestined for many coming centuries to abject subserviency to the See of Rome.

The influence of the Papacy, no less than the imminent peril of the state, had successfully appealed to the religious instincts and national honor of every Christian potentate in the Peninsula. Many of these came in person, followed by the nobles and ecclesiastical dignitaries of their dominions. In this strange array, which could so easily reconcile the din of battle with the peaceful services of the altar and the pilgrimage, and which substituted without hesitation for the monotonous intonations of the mass the martial notes of the trumpet, were numbered the principal officials of the Church, headed by the celebrated Roderick, Primate of the Kingdoms of Spain. The grand-masters of all the military orders, including those of the Hospitallers and the Templars, who with a considerable following had come from distant countries to share in the honor and the glory of a new crusade, formed no unimportant accession to the ranks of the Christian army. Every organization in the land—civil, political, military, and religious—had despatched its representatives to the appointed rendezvous, full of patriotic confidence, yet with a thorough realization of the fatal consequences to their liberties and their faith which must inevitably result from another great Moslem victory obtained over a people which had already well-nigh lost its recuperative power. A remarkable concourse was that whose various dialects and often discordant accents were heard in the streets, and whose daily increasing numbers, exceeding the capacity of the old Visigothic capital to contain, were distributed through the pastures and gardens of its environs. An abundance of provisions supplied by the timely foresight of Alfonso kept the motley host content, but want of occupation soon developed the prevalent vices of the camp. Quarrels, provoked by the claims of different nationalities to superiority, were not unusual, and the narrow thoroughfares of the ordinarily sedate and tranquil city became nightly the scene of brawls and disorder. Among the crusaders were many who had served in Palestine and were accustomed to unrestrained indulgence in every variety of crime. To these adventurers, whose religious fervor was largely stimulated by avarice, the wealth of the numerous and thriving Hebrew population of Toledo was a prize too valuable to be overlooked. The prejudices of the age were favorable to persecution, and the Jew, especially if prosperous, was to the ignorant zealot the worst of infidels. A plan was formed for the massacre of the entire Jewish colony; and it required all the influence of the clergy and all the authority of Alfonso to prevent the destruction of a large portion of his most industrious and useful subjects in the very heart of his capital.

Finally, in June, 1212, the crusading army prepared for the active operations of a campaign. In its order of arrangement, the advance guard was composed of the foreigners, the centre was allotted to the Aragonese, and the rear was closed by the soldiers of the remaining states and kingdoms, who had most at stake and on whose efforts the issue of a battle must principally depend.

The crusaders had advanced but a few days’ march beyond Toledo, when signs of insubordination began to appear among the French and Italians. There is probably not in all Europe a region so inhospitable and so desolate during any season as the plateaus of Central Spain. No tree rises to relieve the dull monotony of the landscape. In winter the plain is swept by icy blasts from the sierras. In summer the exhausted traveller is prostrated by the fierce rays of an almost tropical sun. That country even now, for scores of leagues in every direction, presents the aspect of a desert; and in the thirteenth century, marking the boundary between two nations involved in continuous hostility, was yet more dreary and uninhabited than it is to-day. To the old crusader it recalled only too forcibly the hardships and the perils of the Holy Land, privations long since gladly exchanged for a life of luxury and license in the service of generous and indulgent European princes. The prelate sighed for the cloister, reluctantly abandoned for the camp at the command of the Holy Father, and longed to return to the scenes of wassail,—to the gay hunting parties in the forest; to the festive board, with its convivial and unclerical guests, its appetizing dishes, and sparkling wines; to the embraces of those beautiful companions who, chosen for their rare fascinations, whiled away, behind the walls of palace and monastery, the leisure of the epicurean bishop with Oriental dances and with the lively notes of lute and castanet. To men who had been induced to take up the cross by glowing descriptions of the Moorish cities of Andalusia, the experiences of a march through La Mancha were a grievous disappointment. So universal and serious was the discouragement among the foreigners, that the indignant remonstrances of the King and the prelates were scarcely sufficient to prevent their desertion in a body. At length, after a few insignificant frontier castles had been stormed and little booty obtained, the Italians and French, instigated by the ecclesiastics, abandoned their allies and marched homeward. Their freebooting instincts were disclosed by an ineffectual attempt to surprise Toledo, whose wealth they had never ceased to covet; but the inhabitants refused them admission to the city, and they were compelled to return to their homes empty handed, covered with infamy and objects of derision and contempt to the devout of every Christian nation of Europe.