Volume 1 — CHAPTER VIII THE OMMEYADES; REIGN OF ABD-AL-RAHMAN I. 756–788

The Ommeyade Family—Its Origin—Its Hostility to Mohammed—The Syrian Princes—Their Profligacy—Splendors of Damascus—Luxury of the Syrian Capital—Rise of the Abbasides—Proscription of the Defeated Faction—Escape of Abd-al-Rahman—His Romantic Career—He enters Spain—His Success—Defeat and Dethronement of Yusuf—Constant Insurrections—Enterprise of the Khalif of Bagdad—Its Disastrous Termination—Invasion of Charlemagne—Slaughter of Roncesvalles—Death of Abd-al-Rahman—His Character—His Services to Civilization—Foundation of the Great Mosque—The Franks reconquer Septimania.

I now turn to that splendid period wherein was displayed the glory of the line of the Ommeyades, an epoch forever memorable for its achievements in science and practical philosophy; forever illustrious in the history of intellectual progress as well as for the development of those useful arts which diminish the toil and increase the happiness of every individual, irrespective of rank, whose influence and avocations insensibly contribute their share to the amelioration or degradation of humanity.

Prominent among the nobles of Mecca, equal in pride of lineage and superior in real power to the Hashemites, to which tribe the Prophet belonged, was the family of the Ommeyades. Although not exempt from a well-grounded suspicion of atheism, they were, from motives of policy, devoted champions of the worship of the Kaaba. Their idolatrous predilections were disclosed by the significant names of their chieftains, and especially by that of their founder, Abd-al-Shams, “The Slave of the Sun.” While the sheiks of the Hashemites, the hereditary guardians of the Kaaba, enjoyed the nominal authority of heads of the Koreish, the military talents and intellectual endowments of the Ommeyades secured for their chiefs the command of the army, an advantage by no means counterbalanced by the spiritual influence possessed by their rivals over the worldly and skeptical population of Mecca. The commerce of the Holy City, which reaped such substantial benefits from its position as the centre of Arabian superstition, was largely in the hands of the Ommeyades. The great caravans, which, at regular periods, carried on a lucrative traffic with Egypt and Syria, were placed under the charge of their most distinguished leaders. The riches amassed by the principal members of the family were prodigious, and their insolence and cruelty were, in nearly every instance, in a direct ratio to their wealth and power. Quick to perceive that their political influence as well as their pecuniary interests would be seriously imperilled by the spread of Islam, the Ommeyades early displayed the most unrelenting hostility towards their countryman Mohammed. They reviled his doctrines. They scoffed at his pretensions to divine inspiration. His proselytes were followed by the taunts and insults of the mob of Mecca, instigated by the dissolute young nobles of the Koreish aristocracy. Long before he had secured a respectable following, the Prophet, on several occasions, narrowly escaped the violence of his insidious enemies; and the Hegira itself, the era from which the magnificent dynasties of Syria and Spain were to date the acts of their sovereigns, was necessitated by the discovery of a murderous plot against him hatched and matured by the chiefs of the Ommeyades.

In the defeat of Ohod, where the Prophet was wounded and nearly lost his life; at the siege of Medina, which menaced with destruction the existence of the new religion, the hostile armies were commanded by Abu-Sofian, the principal sheik of this powerful family. His wife, the termagant Hind, prompted by the impulses of a savage and a cannibal, had torn out and partly devoured the liver of Hamza, Mohammed’s uncle, and had worn a necklace and bracelets of the ears of Moslems who had fallen bravely in battle. After the surrender of Mecca, Abu-Sofian and his partisans were induced to show a pretended conformity with the observances of the detested faith, but only under the threat of instant death.

The Syrian princes, despite their services to literature and art, were, almost without exception, profligates and infidels. Ever famous for voluptuousness and frivolity, they had inherited and improved upon the seductive dissipations of the Roman Empire. In the ingenious invention and development of depraved tastes and acts of unspeakable infamy, Antioch and Damascus stood unrivalled. The use of wine, prohibited by the Koran, was universal; the debauchery of the court, which rivalled that of the worst period of imperial degradation, excited the wonder and disgust of foreigners. The ministers of the most revolting vices, unmolested, defiled with their presence alike the halls of the palace and the precincts of the mosque. The drunkenness of the Khalif not infrequently required the constant attendance of slaves, even in the audience chamber. Vast sums were lavished upon singing and dancing boys painted and attired like women, an abomination in the eyes of every conscientious Mussulman. Female musicians and performers, whose attractions often obtained over the susceptible monarch a dangerous and permanent ascendency, were imported at great expense from Mecca, the focus of the religion and the vice of Asia. A spirit of boundless extravagance was cultivated as a necessary attribute of regal splendor, and a timely jest or a ribald song often procured for an unworthy favorite a reward equal to the revenue of a province.

Damascus, under the rule of the Ommeyades, presented a picture of licentiousness and luxury unequalled, before or since, by that or any other community of the Moslem world. The importance of its commerce, the opulence of its citizens, the beauty of its suburbs, the sanctity of its traditions, and the prestige of its name gained for the most venerable city of antiquity the admiration and the reverence of every traveller. Its temples were embellished with all the magnificent creations of Oriental art. Its palaces were encrusted with porphyry, verde-antique, lapis lazuli, and alabaster. Through its gardens, over whose mosaic walks waved in stately majesty the palm, and where the air was perfumed with the fragrance of a thousand flowers and aromatic shrubs, flowed rivulets of the purest water. In every court-yard were fountains, and in the harems of the wealthy they were often fed with costly wines. The most gaudy attire was affected even by the populace, and no material but silk was considered worthy of the dignity of a Syrian noble. In the shops of the bazaar, divided as are those of the East to-day into sections appropriated to different wares, were to be found objects of commerce of every country from Hindustan to Britain. The various nationalities which composed the population of the city were each distinguished by a peculiar costume, and the brilliant and picturesque aspect of the living streams which poured unceasingly through the streets was enhanced by the multitudes of visitors whom business or curiosity had attracted to the capital of the khalifate.

With the occupation of the city by the Moslems, its physical aspect, the character of its population, and the nature of its political institutions had changed with its religion. From Græco-Syrian, affected to some extent by Persian influence, it became thoroughly Arab. The apparently ineradicable ideas of personal liberty entertained by the Bedouin, inconsistent even with the salutary restraints necessary for the maintenance of government and the preservation of society, were carried from the boundless Desert into the circumscribed area of the Syrian metropolis. Every tribe had its own municipal district or ward, separated from the others by walls fortified by towers, and closed at sunset by massive gates. So perfect was this isolation that each quarter exhibited the picture of a miniature town, independent of the others, with its markets, caravansaries, mosques, and cemeteries. The rule of separation was carried still farther in these communities by assigning different wards to Jews and Christians, a practice still to be observed in the cities of the Orient. Unobstructed communication with the surrounding country was obtained by means of gateways in the principal wall, of which each quarter always possessed one and sometimes more. This singular arrangement, a constant protest against the centralized despotism which, despite its professions, is the governing principle of Islam, greatly facilitated the political disturbances and insurrections whose prevalence is so marked a feature in the history of Damascus.

The Great Mosque, inferior in sanctity only to the temples of Mecca, Medina, and Jerusalem, stood in the very centre of the city. The plan and decorations of the structure were Byzantine, and still bear no inconsiderable resemblance to those of the Cathedral of St. Mark at Venice. In such profusion were mosaics lavished upon its walls that even the exterior blazed with the intolerable brilliancy of this elegant ornamentation. Its imposing dome and slender minarets, rising above a maze of houses and gardens, were the first objects which met the expectant glance of the camel-driver as he urged his weary beast over the drifting sands of the Desert. At the fountain of its spacious court the pilgrim from Yemen and the merchant from Irac, side by side, performed the lustrations enjoined upon the true believer. Before its gorgeous Kiblah the curious of every clime, the devout of every rank, the prince and the beggar, the noble and the dervish, the master and the slave, in fraternal concord implored the protection and the blessing of God.

The splendors of the Orient were reflected by the court and the palace of the khalifate. The quarries of Europe, Africa, and Asia were ransacked for the rarest marbles. Temples of Pagan deities were stripped of frieze and capital carved by the hands of famous sculptors of antiquity. Byzantine mosaics glittered upon the floors and walls with a sheen that resembled folds of satin drapery and cloth of gold. The tapestries of Persia, whose designs ignored the injunction of the Koran prohibiting the representation of forms of animal life, were suspended, in gorgeous magnificence, from portals of verde-antique and arcades of Numidian marble and polished jasper. The gilded ceilings were of odoriferous woods curiously inlaid in bewildering arabesques with ivory, mother-of-pearl, ebony, and tortoise-shell. The profusion of water recalled the partiality of the Arab for the precious fluid associated with the toilsome march of the caravan, with the repose of the camp, with the refreshing coolness of the verdant oasis, with the triumph of the foray, with many a happy memory and sacred tradition of the Desert. In every court-yard sparkled jets of spray drawn from the sources of the famous rivers Abana and Pharpar. Channels cut in the marble floors conducted the overflow through the summer apartments of the palace into the little canals which traversed, in every direction, the fragrant gardens. The baths, designed to subserve the threefold purpose of religion, health, and pleasure, were fitted up with almost incredible luxury. Upon their walls the artists of Constantinople had exhausted their utmost ingenuity and skill. The basins were of porphyry and alabaster; the silver pipes were finished with the heads of animals carved in solid gold. The air that came from the furnace through the hypocaust was laden with the sweetness of a hundred intoxicating odors. The divans upon which the bathers reclined were covered with damask, embroidered with many colored silk in a maze of graceful and capricious patterns. Through windows of stained glass, high up in the vaulted ceiling, the brilliant rays of a Syrian sun fell, tempered and refracted in iridescent hues upon the scene of luxurious repose and sensuality below.

With the terrible retribution that followed the death of Othman, the tribal supremacy—and with it the control of the Moslem government—was transferred to the heads of the Meccan aristocracy of the clan of Abu-Sofian. The sincerity of their professions had long been doubted. The unwise appointments of Othman, a member of that family, was the principal cause of the popular discontent that culminated in his assassination. Weak and vacillating, his movements were directed by his uncle Hakem, who had betrayed the confidence of Mohammed, and had been ignominiously driven from the Hedjaz. Another Ommeyade, the father of Walid, Governor of Kufa, spat in the face of the Prophet, and had been executed as a felon, while the sacrilegious conduct of his worthy son had provoked a dangerous riot in the very mosque of his capital. Still another, Abdallah-Ibn-Sad, Governor of Egypt, raised to the coveted dignity of secretary of Mohammed, had perverted the texts of the Koran, and had fled and apostatized, thereby incurring the penalty of death. Under Muavia, the first Syrian Khalif, the outward ceremonies of religion were practised and the precepts of the Koran obeyed with apparent fidelity. But this conformity, palpably insincere, was largely the effect of policy. The orthodoxy of a people whose ancestors were for centuries the ministers of idolatrous worship, who resisted with every resource of contumely and violence the apostle of a new religion in his weakness, and assented reluctantly to his dogmas in his power, and whose political importance was directly dependent upon the maintenance of that religion, may, with propriety, be questioned. The Pagan traditions of his ancestors were predominant in the breast of Muavia. A decent reverence for the Koran, an apparent assent to its tenets, together with a politic and strict performance of the ceremonies of its ritual, concealed from his subjects all of the skepticism of his family, all of the abject superstition of his race. His palace swarmed with soothsayers and charlatans. Before engaging in any important undertaking, in the presence of public calamity, under the weight of domestic misfortune, he appealed for counsel to the arts of divination, denounced by Mohammed as a relic of idolatry and offensive to God. In his adherence to these heathen rites he was encouraged by the influence and example of his favorite consort, the mother of Yezid, a Bedouin of the tribe of the Beni-Kalb, who, amidst the luxurious pomp of the Syrian court, still pined for the coarse fare and untrammelled freedom of the Desert.

The Ommeyade Khalifs grudged no treasure and spared no toil in the adornment of their capital, the centre of their religion, the seat of their empire. To their political sagacity are to be attributed the massive fortifications which preserved the city from the encroachments of Persia and the plots of daring aspirants to imperial power. Their paternal beneficence was manifested by aqueducts and countless subterranean conduits which conveyed an unfailing supply of water into even the humblest dwellings of the poor. Their enlightened generosity relieved the suffering, encouraged the learned, promoted commerce, repressed fanaticism, dispelled the mists of ignorance. The white banner of their dynasty floated in triumph over the mosque of Medina, the towers of Bassora, the walls of Kairoan, the citadel of Toledo. In scientific acumen and literary renown the reputation of the court of Damascus was far inferior to that subsequently attained by the Khalifate of Bagdad. The genius of the Syrian seemed less adapted to the slow and plodding researches of the laboratory than to the noisy wrangles of theological controversy. But in the material enjoyments of life, in the pomp which invested the dignity of sovereign, in the riotous exhibition of sensual extravagance, Damascus was supreme. On occasions of ceremony the attire of the Khalif was of gold brocade, and only when he exercised the religious functions of his holy office incumbent on him as the head of Islam did he condescend to don the plain white vestments of his order. The menials of his household, even to the cooks, when they appeared before the Divan, were clad in damask. The devotees of pleasure were the favorite companions of the Successor of the Prophet. His days were passed at cock-fights and horse-races. The number of coursers which contended in these trials of speed was immense, sometimes amounting to the incredible figure of one thousand. His nights were amused by the tales of story-tellers, by the improvisations of poets, by the antics of buffoons, by the lascivious contortions of professional dancers. The barbaric orgies of the Bedouin tents were transferred to the palace of the khalifate, and supplemented with the polished vices of Egypt and the nameless iniquities of Rome and Constantinople. In the depth and frequency of his potations, the royal expounder of the Koran might well challenge the admiration of the seasoned revellers of Scandinavia. His drinking-horns were of enormous size. The wine used in the banquets was of the choice vintage of Tayif, a town in the vicinity of Mecca. Potent of itself, the effect of its draughts was heightened by the addition of musk and other aphrodisiacs. When the surfeited stomach could endure no more, emetics were employed to prolong the debauch and obviate its unpleasant consequences.

What a contrast does all this splendor and profligacy present to the frugal habits, patriarchal simplicity, and homely virtues of the early khalifs! What a change from the humble domestic offices performed by the Arabian Prophet, who often himself prepared his frugal meal and mended his tattered sandals! How different from the dignified reserve and earnest piety of Abu-Bekr; how strange when compared with the stoical demeanor and abstemious life of Omar, who entered Jerusalem at the head of his victorious army in a garb inferior to that of the meanest soldier, and whom an ambassador of the King of Persia found asleep, surrounded by beggars, upon the steps of the Great Mosque of Medina! And yet a century had not elapsed from the Hegira to the period when the Ommeyades of Syria reached the meridian of their greatness and their power.

The liberty enjoyed by women at this period was much greater than that subsequently conceded them by Mohammedan law. The lax manners of the Desert had not yet been completely subjected to the restrictions demanded by new social conditions. During the reigns of the first khalifs, the barbarous practice which countenanced the traffic in and service of eunuchs was unknown. Later, however, the close intercourse with the Byzantine and Persian courts suggested and encouraged the custom. But it would seem from accounts transmitted by the writers of the time that the institution of these guardians produced no marked effect upon the prevailing immorality; and the fidelity of even the modern eunuch is, as every adventurous Oriental traveller knows, far from incorruptible. Princes visited clandestinely the harems of their subjects, and celebrated in licentious verse, without concealment of name or opportunity, the charms of their mistresses. Ladies of the royal household intrigued openly with the poets and singers of the court. With such examples before them, the inferior orders of the people could hardly be expected to preserve even the appearance of virtue. As a matter of fact, in no country was society more corrupt, and the name of Syrian was everywhere a synonym of effeminacy, infidelity, and vice.

But the excesses of the Khalifs of Damascus, scandalous as they were, became trifling faults in the eyes of the pious Moslem when he considered the horrible acts of sacrilege of which these sovereigns were guilty. The generals of Yezid, after the battle of Harra which avenged the murder of Othman and decided the fate of Arabia, delivered up the city of Medina to pillage. A massacre, so cruel as to provoke the indignation of an age accustomed to scenes of butchery and violence, was perpetrated by the infuriated soldiery. A thousand infants were born of the outrages of that fatal day to be branded for life with the epithet of the “Children of Harra.” The troopers of the Syrian army, encumbered with their horses, fastened them amidst gibes and curses in the mosque; the mosque founded by Mohammed upon the spot of propitious augury, where his favorite camel had halted at the termination of the flight from Mecca. There, tethered between the pulpit, whence the texts of the Koran had fallen from the lips of the Prophet upon the attentive ears of multitudes of believers, and the tomb where his remains had been reverently laid by the hands of his companions, the restless horses defiled the place holiest on earth to the Mussulman save the Kaaba alone. The survivors of Bedr, whom the favor of Mohammed and the veneration of the populace had exalted to the rank of an ecclesiastical nobility, perished to a man. At the siege of Mecca, which soon followed, the privileges that, from time immemorial, had protected the sacred territory from insult were violated, and the mosque, set on fire by order of the commander of the army, was, with the Kaaba, entirely consumed.

Under the administration of the succeeding khalifs of the House of Ommeyah, the mad freaks of these unworthy chiefs of Islam attained the climax of extravagance and sacrilege. Exhausted by debauchery and careless of public opinion, they sent their boon companions and their concubines, muffled in the royal robes, to repeat the morning prayer from the pulpit of the mosque. They degraded their sacred office by the assumption of mean disguises, the better to penetrate the interior of the houses of their neighbors, inviolable in the sight of every sincere Mussulman. They maintained and publicly caressed animals whose contact the law of Islam declared unclean. Their lives were sullied with incests and every physical abomination. The reverent Moslem will not tread upon a piece of paper, for fear it may be inscribed with a sentence from the Koran; but so little regard did the scoffing Ommeyade princes entertain for its sacred texts that they used it as a target for their arrows. Each was noted for his predilection for some favorite vice. Al-Walid I. was seldom sober, and suffered no day to pass without a drunken orgy. Yezid II. starved himself on account of the death of a female slave. The conduct of Al-Walid II. was a strange compound of the tricks of a buffoon and the vagaries of a lunatic. In absolute defiance of the prejudices of his fellow-Mussulmans, he insisted that his dogs should accompany his retinue on the Pilgrimage to Mecca. Although, by virtue of his office, the leader of the great Pilgrim caravan, who was expected to afford an edifying example of piety to his followers and direct the customary devotional exercises, so little did he appreciate the duties of the occasion that he delegated his spiritual authority to one of his friends, and was with difficulty dissuaded from erecting a tent on the very summit of the Kaaba, wherein he might the more publicly outrage the feelings of the inhabitants of the Holy City by scenes of drunkenness and riot. A pet monkey, which had been christened Abu-Kais, was an inseparable companion of his revels. He quaffed the strong wine of Tayif from the same cup as his royal master, and with him shared alike the pleasures of intoxication and the depression consequent upon prolonged indulgence. The Khalif presented his strange associate to grave ambassadors as a venerable and learned Jew whom the justice of the Almighty had overtaken, and who, under the spell of enchantment, was now expiating, in the form of an unclean animal, a life of hypocrisy and sin. When the Khalif rode abroad, Abu-Kais accompanied him, clad in silk, and mounted on a donkey magnificently caparisoned. But it happened one day that Abu-Kais, having imbibed too freely of his master’s liquor, was thrown from his steed and broke his neck. The grief of Al-Walid for the loss of the monkey was for weeks the jest of the capital. Abu-Kais was, to the great scandal of the faithful, honored with the rites of Moslem burial, and the Khalif, whose poetic talent was far above mediocrity, composed some plaintive verses as a well-merited tribute to his conviviality and wisdom.

I have dwelt at some length upon the description of Damascus because of the close and significant resemblance of the political, social, religious, and military institutions of Syria to those of Mohammedan Spain. In the population of the latter country the Syrian element greatly preponderated in influence, if not in numbers. The first Khalif of Andaluz was the last scion of the race of the Ommeyades. The feuds, the prejudices, the traditions, of both nations were identical. The Syrian exile ever retained in affectionate remembrance the scenes and events of his childhood. His armies were marshalled in the same order as were those which went forth to victory under the white banner of Muavia and Al-Walid. His cities were laid out in imitation of the irregular lines and labyrinthine streets of the Syrian capital. His palaces were constructed by architects familiar with the splendid edifices which were the crowning ornament of the Eastern Khalifate. The mosaics that sparkled around the Kiblah of the Great Temple of the West were the handiwork of the same school of Byzantine artists whose creations had adorned the stately dome which rose over the site of the ancient Church of St. John the Baptist. The Koran, whose leaves dyed with the life-blood of Othman were long exhibited with the garments of the martyred Khalif in the Djalma of Damascus, was for more than two centuries the object of a veneration approaching to idolatry, rendered by countless myriads of worshippers, attracted from every quarter of the globe by the marvels and the sanctity of the Mosque of Cordova.

The gross and offensive ridicule of everything connected with religion and with a life passed in strict accordance with the principles of moral rectitude, so popular at the court of Damascus, would have been considered impolitic and ill-bred by the polished society whose cities lined the shores of the Tagus and the Guadalquivir. But education and skepticism were almost equally diffused throughout the Peninsula, and there was, in fact, but little difference in the opinions concerning the divine origin and authenticity of the Koran entertained by the Moslem of Syria and the Moslem of Spain. Nor was the influence of the occult sciences less prominent in the West than in the East. Superior intelligence, which brought emancipation from many of the vices of superstition, did not seem to perceptibly diminish the confidence inspired by the mummeries and impostures of the wizard and the astrologer.

The Spanish Arabs, following the example of their Syrian brethren, raised woman to a position equally removed from the one she so ignominiously occupied in earlier and in later times, as the giddy toy of man or the abject slave of religious credulity. The voice of the princesses of Syria not infrequently decided the policy of the Divan. The ladies of Cordova were the chosen advisers of the monarch; the friends of philosophers; the learned associates of great physicians, astronomers, generals, and diplomatists. Free from the excessive prodigality, the defiant blasphemy, the extravagant follies of the Syrian dynasty, the sovereigns of the Western Khalifate suffered no opportunity to escape which would, even indirectly, secure for their subjects the substantial benefits of commerce, the manifold advantages of science, the pleasures of art, the consolations of literature; while they at the same time, actuated by a lofty ambition not confined by the limits of their own dominions, fostered those noble aspirations and incentives to progress which promote the generous emulation of nations.

A society whose religious teachers are atheists and hypocrites, the contempt of whose rulers is constantly manifested towards a faith to which they are solely indebted for their authority and whose wickedness has become proverbial, can hardly survive the first resolute attempt at its overthrow. And so it happened with the Ommeyades at Damascus. Not only in Syria, but to the uttermost bounds of the khalifate, the stories of the vices and skepticism of the Commander of the Faithful were heard with disgust and horror. The law-abiding were scandalized by the orgies of the court. The descendants of those who had perished at Harra and Mecca, the remnant of the recalcitrant non-conformists of Persia, the seditious populace which had felt the iron hand of the governors of Irac, were inflamed with the desire and the hope of vengeance. The devout Mussulman, who conscientiously observed the injunctions of the Koran and to whom the traditions of Islam were sacred as connected with the life and sayings of the Prophet, was shocked at the blasphemy which the Successor of Mohammed did not hesitate to utter, even within the precincts of the mosque and before the very altar of God. From time to time the popular indignation was displayed in insurrections, which, being spontaneous and deficient in organization and leadership, were crushed without difficulty. But under the reign of Merwan II., the fourteenth khalif of the dynasty, a formidable rebellion broke out in Persia. The descendants of Abbas, the uncle of Mohammed and the grandfather of Ali, openly laid claim to the throne of the Orient. Their party was supported by Abu-Muslim, the greatest military commander of the age. Attached for generations to the memory of Ali, the Persians flocked by thousands to the camp of the insurgents, and the pretender, Abul-Abbas, having established his authority over the eastern provinces, moved westward to the conquest of Syria. Aware, when too late, of the magnitude of the impending danger, which at first had been despised, the Khalif brought into requisition the entire resources of his empire to repel the invasion. In the plains of the Zab, a tributary of the Tigris, and not far from the site of ancient Nineveh, the two armies met in a conflict upon whose result were staked the destinies of the two great factions of Islam. The valor of the Abbasides, aided by the treason which pervaded the ranks of the enemy, prevailed; the forces of Merwan were routed; and the foundations of a new empire were laid which was destined to eclipse, by the glories of Bagdad, the dazzling and meretricious splendor of the court of Damascus. And now a frightful proscription was inaugurated. Even the schismatics, whose lukewarm support had incurred the suspicions of the Ommeyades, were unable to escape the sword of the conqueror. It soon became evident that the fury of the Abbasides would be satisfied only with the absolute extermination of the hostile faction. The deposed Khalif, Merwan, who had fled to Egypt, was defeated in a skirmish and killed. Every member of his house whose rank was sufficiently exalted to inspire the usurper with apprehensions was ruthlessly murdered. Where open violence did not avail, the basest treachery was employed. Abdallah, the uncle of Abul-Abbas, by affording some of the exiles assistance, had succeeded in gaining the confidence of the proscribed faction. He solemnly promised an asylum to all who would resort to Damascus and invoke his protection. Deluded by his professions, many left their hiding-places, where they had been in comparative security, to expose themselves to the designs of a perfidious enemy. When all had arrived who could be induced to confide in him, Abdallah gave a banquet in honor of his distinguished protegés, which more than seventy of the Ommeyades attended. In the midst of the festivities, at a given signal, a band of soldiers burst in upon the assembly, and the unhappy guests were massacred. Rugs and curtains were thrown over their prostrate bodies; the revelry was renewed; and the partisans of the Abbasides toasted the monster whose ferocious cunning had cut off his most dangerous adversaries by the sacrifice of the rites of hospitality. Within the tent of the Bedouin the life of his most deadly enemy is sacred. But to the Arab of Syria or Persia no promise was binding, no engagement was inviolable, where his interests or his ambition were concerned. Thus had the fatal influence of Roman and Byzantine manners vitiated the nature of a people whose sense of manly dignity and personal honor had for ages been conspicuous amidst the wide-spread depravity of Asia.

Every member of the detested race whom the blood-thirsty diligence of their foes could discover was hunted like a wild beast and put to death. Children were butchered in the presence of their parents. Women who refused to disclose the hiding-places of their kindred, or the whereabouts of their jewels, were stabbed without ceremony. Abu-Ibn-Muavia, one of the noblest cavaliers of Damascus, was deprived of a hand and foot, and paraded through the cities of Syria upon an ass until pain and exhaustion relieved him of his misery. The ferocious Abbasides were not content with outrages upon the living; they even violated the tombs of the khalifs and scattered to the winds the remains of those princes whose glory and whose crimes had adorned or defiled the throne of the East.

Amidst the universal ruin of his family, one prince alone of the Ommeyades, Abd-al-Rahman-Ibn-Muavia, had survived. Of rare promise and endowed with many virtues, he had long been the ornament of the court of Syria. He had received the best education obtainable in the schools of the capital. His mind had been enlarged by travel. The fortuitous advantages of wealth and royal lineage added but little to the prestige attaching to his name. The conversation of learned men, daily attendance upon the proceedings of the Divan, intimate association with the highest dignitaries of the state, all had aided to familiarize him with the complex machinery of government. The turbulence of the times necessarily enlisted the military services of the various members of the royal house, and Abd-al-Rahman was not deficient in the knowledge of those duties required by the stirring life of the camp and the battle-field. In proficiency in manly exercises, in the daring adventures of the chase, in skill in the use of arms, he surpassed all competitors.

An accidental and timely absence from the court had preserved the young prince from the fate of his kindred. As soon as intelligence of the massacre reached him, he fled to an estate which he possessed near the Euphrates, and there he was soon joined by his household. But the horsemen of Abul-Abbas, whose implacable cruelty had acquired for him the appropriate title of Al-Saffah, The Sanguinary, were already upon his track; his villa was surrounded, and by swimming the river he barely escaped with his life. By dint of perseverance and courage, after many perils, he succeeded in reaching Palestine, where he was found by Bedr, a freedman of his father, who brought him his sister’s jewels, generously donated to relieve his necessities. From Palestine he passed in disguise into Africa, a province which had not yet renounced allegiance to the Ommeyades, and whose governor had been one of the most ardent supporters of the proscribed faction. Here he was hospitably welcomed, and at once found himself surrounded by friends and refugees who had eluded the vigilance of the Abbasides. The spirits of the exile rose with the present assurance of security in the companionship of adherents whose sympathies were aroused, and whose passions were excited by the story of his wrongs. Years before, the downfall of the race of Ommeyah had been foretold by an astrologer, who had, at the same time, predicted the future greatness of the illustrious fugitive. The intellect of Abd-al-Rahman, though strong, was not proof against the oracles of superstition which flattered his vanity while they inspired him with awe, and he had listened, with all the credulity of an Oriental, to the mysterious hints of the charlatan. The first portion of the prediction had been verified. With the single exception of himself, the princes of his house had been exterminated. His conscious mental superiority, his political experience, his keen insight into human nature, his public and domestic virtues, persuaded him and suggested to his partisans that no one of his family was so worthy of a throne. Actuated by these ambitious feelings, and rashly permitting his aspirations to prevail over his gratitude, Abd-al-Rahman began to entertain hopes of securing the sovereignty of Africa. His imprudent speeches came to the ears of the Viceroy, Ibn-Habib, a stern old soldier, who was a relative of Yusuf and had once held high command in the army of Spain. He also was acquainted with the astrologer’s prediction, and was not disposed to contribute to its accomplishment by the loss of his own life and the sacrifice of his power. Despising the guests whose base conduct had so ill requited his hospitality, he tendered his allegiance to the Abbaside Khalifate. All members of the obnoxious faction were at once expelled from the country. Abd-al-Rahman was forced to seek in disguise the most secluded regions of the Desert. His condition became more and more precarious. A reward of a thousand pieces of gold was offered for his head. He sought concealment among the Bedouins, but their generous hospitality was not able to protect him from the tireless emissaries of the Viceroy, who pursued him from camp to camp and from tribe to tribe. On one occasion, he escaped from a tent just as the Berbers rushed into it. On another, the wife of a sheik concealed him in a corner under a pile of her garments. His means long since exhausted, he became dependent upon charity. His food was coarse and scanty, his clothes old and tattered. Although his youth had been pampered with the choicest delicacies of a royal table, he ate the barley bread and drank the camel’s milk of the douars without a murmur. The nobility of his birth, the suavity of his manners, his skill and daring in the chase, and the patience with which he submitted to the trials of adverse fortune, gained for him the respect and esteem of his wild associates. Even in his destitution he never ceased to aspire to the throne of Africa, and, while his efforts were futile, the activity of the indignant Viceroy kept him in continual apprehension. At length, after five years of vagabondage and perilous adventure, he became the guest of the Berber tribe of the Beni-Nafsa, a branch of the Zenetah, from which his mother derived her origin and whose members inhabited the mountainous region to the south of Ceuta. Here, under the guardianship of his fellow-tribesmen, an alluring prospect was erelong opened to his ambition, and the penniless wanderer, without country or kindred, was suddenly called by the voice of a distant nation to found a new empire and fulfil a grand and magnificent destiny.

In the mean time, the civil war in Spain between Yusuf and Ahmar, ruler of Saragossa, had been proceeding with increasing atrocity but with various and doubtful fortune. Owing to the close relations maintained by Africa and the Spanish Peninsula with each other, the armies of the latter country being constantly recruited from the martial population of the former, and the governors themselves being connected by the ties of blood, an abiding interest in the political fortunes of their brethren beyond the strait was naturally manifested by the Arab and Berber tribes, and intelligence of every important movement in Spain was transmitted to the cities and camps of Al-Maghreb with unfailing regularity. The vigilance and ability of the Viceroy of Africa had at length convinced Abd-al-Rahman of the hopelessness of any attempt to usurp his power. Ease of access to Andalusia and the distracted condition of that country, with whose troubles he was thoroughly familiar, caused him to abandon the scheme which had for so long been the cherished object of his life for another which promised to be less impracticable. A seasonable supply of money had lately reached the impoverished prince from his friends in Syria. With this he despatched the faithful Bedr, who had without complaint shared the privations of his exile, to Spain; after entrusting him with a letter, in which he laid claim to the throne by right of inheritance, directed to the partisans of his family who, to the number of several hundred, inhabited the eastern portion of Andalusia. The letter was in due time delivered to the chiefs of the Syrians, who secretly convoked an assembly of their tribesmen to determine what course should be pursued. The hereditary loyalty of the adherents of the Ommeyades; the apparent justice of the title of Abd-al-Rahman; the anarchy that everywhere prevailed, and whose effects were at that time painfully manifest in the threefold scourge of massacre, famine, and disease; and the prospect of official promotion, assisted by a judicious distribution of the gold brought by Bedr, decided the suffrages of the council in favor of the prince. Scarcely had this opinion been adopted when a new difficulty was added to those which had already rendered the issue of the enterprise doubtful as well as hazardous. The Syrians were ordered by the Emir to attend him in an expedition to the North. But, by plausible excuses, the chieftains were enabled to defer the time of departure, and a gift of a thousand pieces of gold was even obtained from Yusuf under pretext of relieving the pressing necessities of their dependents, but, in fact, to further a conspiracy having for its end his own dethronement. A ship was at once equipped; Abd-al-Rahman was conveyed with a small escort of Berbers to the coast of the Peninsula, and, landing at the port of Almuñecar, was received with the acclamations of a great multitude attracted to the spot by the combined motives of curiosity and loyal enthusiasm. After being duly proclaimed Emir, Abd-al-Rahman was conducted to a castle not far from Loja as the guest of the owner Obeydallah, one of his most zealous adherents.

While these events were transpiring in the South, the expedition of Yusuf against the rebellious Berbers of Saragossa had been singularly fortunate. Overawed by superior numbers, the insurgents had purchased immunity by the craven surrender of their leaders, Amir, Wahab, and Hobab. With these redoubtable chieftains in his custody, the Emir was moving leisurely southward when he was informed of the defeat of a body of his troops by the Basques, and in a fit of ungovernable rage he ordered the immediate execution of his prisoners. By this cruel and impolitic act,—for the culprits were of the purest blood of the Koreish, and were not responsible for the disaster to his arms,—he alienated many of his stanchest supporters and materially increased the following and resources of his rival. A few hours afterwards a courier brought tidings of the landing of Abd-al-Rahman and of the new and formidable danger that menaced his crown. Thirsting for revenge, the dependents of the massacred captives deserted his standard by hundreds. The forces of the Ommeyade prince increased daily; the Yemenites, who regarded his family with a hatred intensified by generations of injury and oppression, but whose detestation of Yusuf was even deeper than that entertained towards the Syrian dynasty, were easily induced to embrace the cause of the former; and, by a strange revolution of fortune, the fugitive, who but a few weeks before had been in hourly peril of his life, now found himself invested with imperial authority and the commander of a veteran army of several thousand men. Fully appreciating the dangerous character of the revolt, as well as the uncertain consequences of a prolonged conflict, Yusuf attempted negotiation. Envoys bearing valuable presents were despatched to the camp of Abd-al-Rahman, who were authorized to promise him the daughter of the Emir in marriage and an estate commensurate with his dignity if he would renounce all claims to the throne. The advisers of the prince, whose enthusiasm had somewhat abated since they had taken time to reflect upon the possible results of their temerity, recommended that the proposals be accepted. A bitter taunt, however, provoked by the awkwardness of one of Abd-al-Rahman’s retinue, abruptly terminated the negotiation; the sarcastic envoy was cast into a dungeon; and the embassy of the Emir, dismissed without ceremony, narrowly escaped being plundered before it reached the gates of Cordova.

No further course was now possible except an appeal to arms. The prevalence of anarchy, the frequent change of rulers, the pernicious immigration of barbarians from Africa, had thoroughly disorganized society. The allegiance of every subject was regarded as a mere matter of policy or choice. The armies were little better than banditti. Even the ties of tribal union had been relaxed, save when the spirit of vengeance required to be satisfied in accordance with the bloody traditions of the Desert. Treachery was so rife that no man was certain of the sincerity of his neighbor or could trust the loyalty of his friend. It was no uncommon occurrence for troops at the critical moment of a battle to publicly desert to the enemy, and immediately turn their weapons against their late companions-in-arms. The grave uncertainties of a contest, carried on under such circumstances, are apparent to every reader. The forces of Abd-al-Rahman had recently received an important accession by the arrival of a considerable number of African cavalry, warriors of the clan of the Zenetah, whose tribal connections, as well as their inexperience in the political intrigues of the emirate, rendered their allegiance less precarious than that of the veterans to whom all masters were alike and whose principal incentive was plunder.

Early in the spring the army of Abd-al-Rahman took up its march with a view to the capture of Cordova. Its course, however, was not directly towards the capital, but farther to the south, where the Syrian and Egyptian tribes—whose sentiments were known to be favorable to the cause of the Ommeyades—had been distributed. Everywhere the insurgents were welcomed with enthusiasm; the bravest warriors joined their ranks; and the towns, one after another, including Seville, the most important city of Andalusia in point of population, opened their gates to the pretender. Abd-al-Rahman had scarcely received the homage of his new subjects before he learned that Yusuf, who, aided by his counsellor Al-Samil, had collected a formidable army in the provinces of Toledo and Murcia, had marched from Cordova to intercept him. Leaving the city, the prince proceeded northward with the expectation of seizing the capital during the absence of the Emir. But the crafty old soldier was not to be taken unawares. The movement of the insurgents was at once detected; Yusuf retraced his steps; and for several hours the two armies raced on together with the river between them. Arriving at a village called Mosara, situated about a league from Cordova, Abd-al-Rahman halted. The clamors of his soldiers, who had been on short rations and were greatly fatigued by the rapid march they had been compelled to undertake, now rose ominously on his ears. A council of war was called, and it was decided to attack the enemy on the following morning. By means of a ruse, which reflected little credit upon his character, Abd-al-Rahman was enabled to cross the river without molestation. He sent word to Yusuf that he was willing to renew the negotiations which had been broken off before the commencement of hostilities; that the terms were entirely acceptable; and that there was so fair a prospect of peace that the treaty could be more conveniently arranged if the two camps were more accessible to each other. Duped by these plausible representations, the Emir suffered his enemies to pass the Guadalquivir, and, learning of their half-famished condition, even sent provisions to their camp. At dawn the troops of Abd-al-Rahman prepared for action. The day was propitious. It was the anniversary of the conflict of the Prairie, where an ancestor of the young prince had signally defeated an adversary whose title was the same as that of Yusuf. The coincidence was carried still further, for it was not forgotten by the superstitious Arabs that the vizier of the Emir and his royal tribesman both belonged to the race of Kais. These prognostics of success were diligently circulated through the ranks of the Ommeyades, already elated by the prospect of victory. The unwelcome omens did not have a less powerful influence upon the imagination of their opponents, for, disheartened and faltering, they regarded themselves as having incurred the displeasure of heaven. The battle was half lost before it fairly began.

So little confidence had the Yemenites in their commander, whose life and fortunes were staked on the issue, that the prince was compelled to exchange his war-horse for an old and crippled mule to avoid the suspicion of intending to abandon his followers in the event of disaster. The royal standard was a white turban attached to a lance; an ensign of equally humble origin, and destined to no less celebrity than the leathern apron of the Persian dynasty, for many generations the symbol of conquest, empire, and glory. The cavalry of Abd-al-Rahman routed that of the enemy, driving it back upon the infantry and throwing the latter into confusion. The right wing and centre soon gave way; the left wing maintained its position for some hours, when it also was broken. The plain was covered with fugitives, who were speared without mercy and trampled to death by the savage Zenetes. Yusuf and Al-Samil succeeded in escaping by the fleetness of their horses; the former fled to Merida, the latter took refuge in Jaen. Such was the battle of Mosara, upon whose result hinged the destinies of Spain.

The contest was hardly over before the characteristic perfidy of the Yemenite chieftains began to manifest itself. To the latter the lineage of Abd-al-Rahman was peculiarly offensive. Aside from the general and deep-seated prejudice they entertained against his family, many of them were descendants of the martyrs and exiles of Medina and Harra. Having satiated their revenge by the rout of the Maadites, and being restrained from indiscriminate pillage by the command of Abd-al-Rahman, Abu-Sabbah, one of the leaders, proposed to assassinate him. The suggestion was listened to calmly by his associates, who discussed it without regard to its moral aspect but solely with a view to its present expediency and political consequences, and the more readily as tribal interest was ever the controlling motive of their conduct. Notified of their treasonable deliberations, Abd-al-Rahman lost no time in surrounding himself with a guard. Thus foiled, the leader of the conspirators dissembled his chagrin and endeavored by extravagant demonstrations of loyalty to atone for his crime, but the penetration of Abd-al-Rahman was not to be deceived, and, some months afterwards, the treacherous Abu-Sabbah was summarily executed.

Although attended with success at the outset, the task of Abd-al-Rahman was far more difficult than he had anticipated. The chiefs of the opposite faction soon repaired their fortunes and appeared at the head of fresh troops. While Abd-al-Rahman was on the march to attack Yusuf, who had joined Al-Samil in the province of Jaen, the Emir sent his son, Abu-Zaid, by unfrequented roads, to seize and recover the capital. The city was surprised and the garrison made prisoners, but the hasty return of the Ommeyades rendered an immediate evacuation necessary. Resuming his march, Abd-al-Rahman proceeded rapidly towards the mountains of Jaen. Yusuf and Al-Samil, conscious of their present weakness, made overtures for peace; and a treaty was concluded by whose terms Abd-al-Rahman was to allow the Emir and his vizier the unmolested possession of their estates, and they, on the other hand, were to surrender the strongholds held by their partisans. It was also stipulated that Yusuf should reside permanently at Cordova, where two of his sons, Abu-Zaid and Abu-al-Aswad, were detained as hostages.

The renunciation of authority by Yusuf left Abd-al-Rahman the nominal master of the Peninsula. But the elements of discord, which had so long harassed the country, were too powerful to be restrained by the influence of a youth who was a comparative stranger to the majority of his subjects. Anarchy, sustained and promoted by the avarice of lawless bands and the ambition of unscrupulous chieftains, had become the normal condition of a society whose constituents were accustomed to be arrayed against each other, and the services of whose soldiers were notoriously at the disposal of whoever was willing to pay the most liberally for them. At first the deposed Emir and his faithful councillor seemed resigned to the reverses which had imposed upon them the conditions of vassalage. They lived in apparent harmony with the new sovereign. Their advice was frequently solicited and adopted in matters of importance. Their vanity was flattered and their dignity sustained by the pomp of establishments not inferior in splendor to those which they had possessed in their days of independence. Not so, however, with the subordinate officers and ministers of the emirate. Under the new administration all employments of responsibility and power had been vested in the friends and adherents of Abd-al-Rahman. The opportunities for peculation and official corruption, once so abundant and lucrative, had disappeared, or were enjoyed by aliens and hereditary enemies. From positions of trust and circumstances of opulence many distinguished nobles had been degraded to a life of insignificance and poverty. These malcontents, whose tribal relations with Yusuf gave them ready access to his presence, took advantage of every occasion to influence his hatred and stimulate his ambition with tales of oppression and hopes of independence. The constitutional weakness of the Emir was not proof against these specious representations, incessantly urged by his partisans. Having secretly made his preparations he fled to Merida. Pursuit was fruitless, and the sole consolation left to Abd-al-Rahman was the knowledge that Al-Samil and the sons of Yusuf were still in his power. Mortified beyond expression, and apprehensive that they also might escape, he ordered them to be cast into prison.

The reputation of Yusuf, and the habitual discontent of the masses, naturally inclined to disorder, soon provided him with a well-appointed force of twenty thousand men. With this he laid siege to Seville, whose governor at that time was Abd-al-Melik, an Ommeyade refugee. Scarcely had the Emir invested the city when he abandoned the undertaking, and attempted, by a rapid march, to seize Cordova before its garrison could be reinforced. He was too late; the army of Abd-al-Rahman was already in motion, and Yusuf retired only to meet the forces of Abd-al-Melik, whose son had come to his aid with a large detachment, enabling him to approach the enemy from the rear. A battle was fought, and Yusuf sustained a crushing defeat. With great difficulty the discomfited prince escaped the swords of the victors, and he had almost reached Toledo when he was intercepted and cut down by a party of Yemenites, who hoped by this important service to obtain favor for themselves and peace for their distracted country. Thus perished miserably the most formidable adversary of Abd-al-Rahman. His distinguished connexions; the military experience of half a century; the responsible commands which he had administered; the prestige that attached to him as the successful opponent of Charles Martel; the consideration resulting from the exercise and enjoyment of royal dignity; the numerous following which had shared his favor and hoped for the re-establishment of his power, had acquired for him a reputation and an influence far beyond his merits. His character was a strange compound of noble and vicious qualities. Courageous on the field of battle, in his tent he became the timorous dupe of every conjuror, the obsequious slave of every charlatan. While not destitute of resolution in moments of danger, he accepted, without question, the pernicious advice of evil counsellors. So absolute was this dependence that, during the latter years of his life, his vizier, Al-Samil, was recognized as the actual master of Spain. But, despite his failings, Yusuf was not deficient in generosity, nor in those qualifications which raise men to political eminence and military fame; and it was not without reason, when the events of his extraordinary career are considered, that popular rumor and personal esteem conferred upon him the flattering distinction of being one of the most accomplished rulers of his time.

As soon as he was informed of the death of his rival, Abd-al-Rahman, instructed by experience of the danger attending temporizing measures, proceeded to dispose permanently of those members of Yusuf’s party from whom he had reason to apprehend future annoyance. The vizier, Al-Samil, whose talents had long exercised a controlling influence in the state, and whose moroseness of temper had been aggravated by punishment, in all probability unmerited, was quietly strangled in prison. Abu-Zaid, the elder of the Emir’s sons, whose lives, as hostages, had been forfeited by their father’s rebellion, was beheaded. The extreme penalty was commuted, in the case of the younger, to perpetual imprisonment, and Abu-al-Aswad, who was indebted for this clemency to his tender age, was immured in one of the strongest towers of the citadel of Cordova.

These violent and decisive measures were productive of only temporary security. The sight of the grisly heads of the Fihrites nailed over the gates of the capital awakened resentment and horror rather than fear. The country still remained in a turmoil. Bands of marauding Berbers roamed far and wide, molesting the peasantry, threatening the cities, closing the avenues of trade, discouraging all the avocations of peace. The universal agitation at length developed into open rebellion. Hischem-Ibn-Ozra, a Fihrite chieftain, whose relationship to Yusuf, joined to an enterprising spirit, gave him considerable political influence, organized an insurrection in the North, and occupied Toledo. Strongly garrisoned by the insurgents, it had held out against the army sent to reduce it for more than a year, when tidings were received by the court of Cordova of the landing of a more dangerous enemy than had yet menaced the stability of the newly established kingdom. The Abbasides, whose capital had been removed from Damascus to Bagdad, had, under a succession of able princes, reached the summit of intellectual greatness and military renown. They had seen, with envy and indignation, the accomplishment of the ambitious designs of the most implacable enemy of their house. He had almost miraculously escaped the manifold snares which their ingenuity had laid for him. The magnificent reward which had been offered for his head had failed to corrupt the fidelity of the indigent and grasping Berbers, whose cupidity was seldom proof against the most insignificant bauble. If of sufficient importance to excite apprehension when a fugitive, how much more was to be feared from his ambition and revenge as a rival; the sovereign of a mighty kingdom, the claimant of the honors and dignity of the khalifate! Resolved to crush, if possible, the growing power of the Ommeyades before it became too strong to be successfully assailed, the Abbaside Khalif, Abu-Giafar-al-Mansur, ordered Ala-Ibn-Mugayth wali of Kairoan, to attempt the subjection of Spain. In order to inspire deeper confidence in the powers delegated to his lieutenant, a black silken banner, whose color was the emblem of his party, accompanied that officer’s commission. The details of this undertaking—the more ominous because it presented an opportunity for the reconciliation of factions; appealed strongly to the turbulent and rapacious spirit of the populace; and asserted a prescriptive claim of authority based upon conquest and dominion hitherto tacitly accorded to the monarch of the East—had been carefully pre-arranged. An understanding had been established between the malcontents of the Peninsula and the court of Bagdad. The rebels besieged in Toledo maintained, through their friends, frequent and uninterrupted communication with the Viceroy of Africa. When Ala-Ibn-Mugayth landed in the province of Beja, he was received with even more enthusiasm than had been manifested on the arrival of Abd-al-Rahman. The Khalif of Bagdad was proclaimed. The prince of the Ommeyades was not only declared a rebel and an usurper, but an effort was made to inflame the passions of the combatants, in a struggle already sufficiently malevolent, by investing it with a religious character, and Abd-al-Rahman was declared a schismatic and an infidel. A price was set upon his head, and the revered name and authority of the Successor of the Prophet was invoked to effect his assassination, which was to be rewarded with the distinguished favor of the sovereign, a treasure of gold and jewels, and, by what was of far more value to the devoted fanatic, eternal happiness in the life to come.

It soon became evident that this outbreak was no ordinary insurrection. The Yemenites, whose loyalty to the cause of Abd-al-Rahman had always been suspected; the Fihrites, who had recent grudges to satisfy; the Berbers, ever ready for bloodshed and rapine; the zealots of every faction, who regarded the title of the Ommeyades as a flagrant usurpation of divine authority, enrolled themselves in the ranks of the Abbasides. The constant defection of large bodies of troops made it necessary to draw on the army investing Toledo, and, in consequence, the rebel garrison of that city was soon united with the already immense host of the wali of Kairoan. Many of the towns of Andalusia were occupied. The fertile environs of the capital were swept by the Berber cavalry. Abd-al-Rahman was besieged in Carmona, whose garrison was soon reduced to extremity through lack of provisions. The siege had lasted two months when the Abbasides, confiding in their overwhelming numbers, began to grow careless. The officers neglected their duties. The sentinels relaxed their vigilance. With the proverbial inconstancy of the Oriental, discontented with delay and impatient of hardship, hundreds deserted their standards. Aware of these circumstances, Abd-al-Rahman, at the head of a picked band of warriors, made a sudden attack by night. The enemy was surprised; a panic seized the camp; all thought of resistance was abandoned, and at dawn the chieftains of the hostile army and seven thousand of their men lay dead on the field of battle. The commander and his principal officers were decapitated; and their heads, after having been thoroughly cleansed, were packed in camphor and salt, with a label fastened to an ear of each to designate the name and rank of the owner. These ghastly trophies were then placed in sealed bags, together with the commission of the wali and the standard of the Abbasides, and conveyed by a merchant to Kairoan, where they were secretly deposited at night in the market-place. When Abu-Giafar-Al-Mansur received intelligence of the catastrophe that had befallen his enterprise, and of the fearful manner in which that intelligence had been communicated, he exclaimed, “It is the act of a demon; God be praised who has placed the sea between me and such an enemy.”

The fate of the rebels before Carmona struck terror into the garrison of Toledo, again blockaded by a great army. Negotiations were opened with the besiegers, and favorable terms obtained, conditional upon the surrender of the most prominent leaders to the vengeance of the Emir. Orders were then received to conduct the prisoners to Cordova. At some distance from its destination the escort was met by a tailor, a barber, and a basket-maker, each provided with the implements of his calling. The soldiers halted, and the barber removed the hair and beards of the rebels. The tailor enveloped their bodies in strait-jackets of coarse cloth, and the basket-maker wove for each one a pannier, which, closely encircling his waist, rendered all movement of his lower extremities impossible. These grotesque figures were then slung on donkeys, and, after having been paraded through the streets of the city, accompanied by the taunts and missiles of a howling mob, were dragged to the place of public execution and crucified.

The Berbers, whose predatory habits kept the first emirs in a state of constant apprehension and whose savage instincts were the ultimate cause of the ruin of the Moslem empire in Spain, now once more took up arms in defiance of the sovereign authority. A shrewd adventurer, Chakya by name, of the tribe of Miknesa, had, by a spurious claim of descent from the Prophet, through Fatima his daughter, and by the assumption of miraculous gifts, succeeded in gaining the confidence of these superstitious barbarians. His profession of school-master acquired for him a reputation for extensive learning in an age of ignorance; and the assiduous study of the Koran invested his person with a sanctity whose advantages he did not underrate in the selection of means to be employed for the realization of his schemes of ambition. The extravagant veneration of the Berbers for individuals supposed to be possessed of supernatural endowments, a sentiment which, in this instance, perfectly coincided with their inclinations for war and rapine, caused them to hasten from all directions to support the claims of the impostor. The latter displayed no little political tact and generalship. His active emissaries tempted the fealty of every chieftain accessible to their insinuating arts. His armies, inspired with the ardor of fanaticism, and directed with an ability not to be expected from a leader hitherto without experience in the conduct of military operations, repeatedly defeated the forces of Abd-al-Rahman; ravaged his dominions to the very environs of the capital; and, secure in the mountains of the West, defied the entire power of the government for nearly ten years. The political situation was further complicated by the defection of the Yemenites, who, on the eve of a decisive battle, assailed the Emir in the rear. The remarkable prominence attained by Chakya was eventually fatal to the continuance of his power. A Berber chieftain of great influence was approached by the agents of Abd-al-Rahman and persuaded to betray his party. In the midst of a fiercely contested engagement the Berbers gave way; their lines were broken; and a frightful butchery ensued, in which the impostor lost thirty thousand of his followers. His control over the minds of his dupes was, however, not shaken by this disaster, and he maintained the struggle for four years longer, when he was murdered by his comrades in a private quarrel. The great mound enclosing the remains of these victims of treason and carnage was, more than two hundred years afterwards, a prominent feature of the landscape, and a significant memorial of the suicidal wars which consumed the resources and retarded the progress of the Moslems of Spain.

Notwithstanding the bloody retribution provoked by every attempt to overturn the throne of Abd-alRahman, conspiracy continued to follow conspiracy without interruption. Abu-al-Aswad, the surviving son of Yusuf, imprisoned at Cordova, had, under pretence of blindness, deceived his keepers and escaped by swimming the Guadalquivir. Incredulous at first, the guards subjected him to every test they could devise, all of which he endured with remarkable patience and without a murmur. The imposture was carried on for months, and in consequence of his supposed affliction he was less carefully watched, and was indulged with many unusual privileges. One morning, while bathing with other prisoners in the river, he took advantage of a favorable opportunity, and swam to the opposite shore without having been observed. His friends met him, provided him with clothes and a horse, and a few days found him safe in Toledo. In this city, the seat of Berber and Yemenite intrigue, an enterprise of great moment was then maturing. The chief parties to it were Ibn-Habib, the son-in-law of Yusuf, and Al-Arabi, the wali of Barcelona. These malcontents had for some time maintained a correspondence with Charlemagne. The escape of Abu-al-Aswad was part of the preconcerted design, his noble descent and his sufferings as a captive from childhood exciting the sympathies of the populace and rendering him an important ally. A treaty had already been executed, and presents and compliments had been exchanged between the Khalif of Bagdad and the Emperor. It was said that a secret understanding existed between these two potentates, and that the standard of the Abbasides was to be displayed by the insurgents, indirectly in aid of the Christians and with the tacit assent of the Moslem sovereign of the East. The principal conspirators sought the King of the Franks at Paderborn, where he was celebrating his triumph over the Saxons by the compulsory baptism of thousands of these Pagan barbarians. The ambition, the zeal, and the adventurous spirit of the Frankish monarch were aroused by consideration of the project, and he agreed to invade the Peninsula with a large force, which was to be supported by an uprising in the North. The plan having been minutely arranged, and the rôle of each conspirator assigned to him, the insurgent chieftains took their departure.

Implacable, indeed, must have been the resentment of the Commander of the Faithful, which could thus liberally contribute to surrender a territory, acquired by such an expenditure of Moslem blood, to the most relentless foe of Islam. The chances of success were largely in favor of the coalition. The martial superiority of the Franks had been signally displayed on the field of Poitiers over troops more warlike and formidable than those which Abd-al-Rahman could now bring into action. The country was exhausted by half a century of internecine conflict. Frequent insurrections had effaced alike the sentiment of loyalty and the reproach of treason. An undercurrent of disaffection pervaded even the society of the court; and the inconstancy of the Berbers, dangerous in itself, was even less to be feared than the deadly malice of tribal hatred, the confirmed habit of resistance, and the ruthless vengeance of disappointed ambition.

The motives which induced Charlemagne to undertake this expedition were of a religious as well as of a political nature; but he was impelled less by an ambition to rid the country of infidels and to exert the powers of compulsory proselytism than by an insatiable craving for territorial aggrandizement and military glory. The project was not an original one. It had been formed ten years previously by his father, and its prosecution had only been prevented by his death. The great sovereign so lauded as the champion of Catholicism was anything but a zealot. His orthodoxy was strongly suspected by the churchmen of his time; in fact, it was whispered that he was more than half a Pagan. His public conduct and private habits exhibited little evidence of the beneficent influence of the Christian virtues. His life was stained with deeds of perfidy and violence. The morals of his court were proverbial for their laxity, a condition to which the monarch himself afforded an unworthy example by the practice of extensive concubinage. The most intimate political connections were maintained between the courts of Aix-la-Chapelle and Bagdad, associations regarded by the devout of the age with pious horror. It is therefore absurd to suppose, as is repeatedly stated by ecclesiastical chroniclers, that the invasion of Spain by Charlemagne was mainly undertaken as a crusade, for the Franks were actuated by no prejudice against the Saracens as Mohammedans, and the relations of their king with the Khalifate of the East were more friendly than those he entertained towards any European power.

In the early months of the ensuing spring, the forces of Charlemagne were in motion. No important event of the Middle Ages has been more neglected by contemporaneous as well as subsequent historians than this expedition. The accounts of Christian writers are so defective and so overloaded with fable as to render them, as usual, thoroughly unreliable. The numbers of the invaders were so great that they were compelled to separate into two divisions and pass the Pyrenees by different routes. Converging towards Saragossa, the armies were united before its walls. The city was in the hands of their allies, but at the last moment the hearts of the latter failed them, when they considered the sacrifice of religion and the violation of every principle of honor and loyalty which a surrender implied. Other causes combined to shake their resolution. The results attending the preliminary steps of the conspiracy had proved disastrous. The leaders, suspicious of each other, were constantly apprehensive of treachery, while tribal prejudice and the irreconcilable spirit of discord prevented sincere co-operation in any measure. Ibn-Habib, the originator of the enterprise, convinced of the perfidy of Al-Arabi, and hoping to anticipate its results, rashly attacked his ally, was defeated, and soon after perished by the hand of an assassin. Long imprisonment had unfitted Abu-al-Aswad for decisive action, and he failed to meet the requirements of his position. Conscious of the miscarriage of their plans, discouraged, and apprehensive of the future, the garrison of Saragossa refused to open the gates of the city. Charlemagne, enraged by this breach of faith, made vigorous preparations for a siege. But the walls had hardly been invested when a despatch arrived announcing that the Saxons were again in rebellion, and had already advanced as far as the Rhine. The siege was raised, and the Franks retired, after an abortive and inglorious campaign, to once more defend their homes against the barbarians of Germany. The fortifications of Pampeluna—which city had surrendered at their approach—were dismantled, and the mighty host then defiled, with slow and painful steps, through the valley of Roncesvalles.

The pass grew more and more difficult and obscure, encompassed as it was by dense forests and precipitous mountains. The advance guard pursued its way without molestation, and had already reached the northern slope of the Pyrenees, when the rear, in whose custody was the baggage of the army, became engulfed in gloomy ravines, whose shadows concealed thousands of Basques lying in ambush. Suddenly the long and tortuous line was attacked by swarms of mountaineers. Hemmed in on all sides, the retreat of the Franks was cut off. Every advantage of surprise, of position, of familiarity with the ground, of experience in ambuscade and partisan warfare, was with the assailants. Resistance was vain. Bravery profited nothing where neither missile nor hand-to-hand weapons were available against an active and invisible enemy. The rear guard was absolutely annihilated. The baggage-train fell into the hands of the victors, who, after plundering the dead, quietly dispersed and sought their homes in the inaccessible recesses of the mountains. By this catastrophe Charlemagne lost nearly half of his army and many distinguished officers, among them the famous Roland, Prefect of the March of Brittany, whose career the poetic genius of bard and troubadour has adorned with many a romantic tale and fabulous legend.

No one reaped any advantage from the Frankish invasion except Abd-al-Rahman, whose destruction was its avowed object. While the enemy was in retreat, he advanced upon Saragossa; the city surrendered after a short resistance, and Al-Arabi, the insurgent chieftain, was assassinated while at prayer in the mosque. Before returning, the Emir marched into the country of the Basques, where he conquered the domain of the Count of Cerdagne, who became a tributary of the court of Cordova. Soon afterwards, Abu-al-Aswad once more tempted the evil fortune of his family by promoting another insurrection, which resulted in the defeat of Guadalimar, where he, with four thousand of his followers, lost their lives.

The last years of Abd-al-Rahman were embittered by disaffection among his kindred, whose political fortunes he had repaired, and who had been raised to wealth and influence by his boundless generosity. His nearest relatives conspired against him. Princes of the blood and nobles of the highest rank forgot the sacred ties of family and tribe in repeated attempts to overturn his power. But the wary monarch, equally proof against the schemes of both open and concealed hostility, easily triumphed over all his adversaries. His armies returned victorious from every campaign. The conspirators who plotted in the imaginary security of the palace were, sooner or later, betrayed by their accomplices, and punished with exemplary severity. His rebellious and ungrateful nephew, Ibn-Aban, was strangled. His brother, Walid, was exiled. Koreishite chieftains, convicted of treason, after having had their hands and feet cut off, were beaten to death with clubs. The remonstrances and threats of trusty councillors were repressed by banishment and studied neglect. Even the services of the faithful Bedr were not sufficient to atone for subsequent insolence; his property was confiscated, and he was confined in a dungeon where he ended his days in penury and disgrace.

Warned by the vicissitudes of a life of peril of the necessity of providing for the succession, and feeling the weight of physical infirmities induced by anxiety and exposure, the Emir, a short time before his death, summoned the officers of state and the nobles of the kingdom to swear allegiance to his third son, Hischem, whom he had chosen to succeed him. This ceremony performed, and the elder brothers of Hischem, Suleyman and Abdallah, having formally renounced their claims to the throne, Abd-al-Rahman withdrew to Merida, where he died a few months afterwards, at the age of fifty-eight, and in the thirty-third year of his reign.

The character of this great prince, gifted as he was by nature with the noblest qualities of mind and heart, was still materially affected by the circumstances of an adventurous career and the sentiments and habits of a turbulent age. His tastes inclined to literature and art, but necessity developed in him the talents of a cautious negotiator and skilful general. Of a generous and benevolent disposition, the proscription of his family, the perpetual hostility of his enemies, the treachery of his kindred, and the ingratitude of his friends embittered his spirit, and led to acts of cruelty, which, though justified by political expediency, have greatly tarnished the lustre of his fame. Reared amidst the splendors of the most polished and luxurious of courts, he bore with singular equanimity the reverses of fortune and the evils of abject poverty, trials which, by inculcating the virtue of philosophical resignation and acquainting him with the failings and inconsistencies of humanity, the better prepared him for the high and responsible position he was destined subsequently to occupy. Even before his power had been firmly established, he sent messengers to the remote regions of the East to search for the scattered members and dependents of the Ommeyades, who were conducted to Spain at the public expense, granted estates, and not infrequently appointed councillors or governors of cities and provinces. The versatility of his genius provoked the envy and elicited the admiration of his most determined foes. While his attention was still occupied by resisting the encroachments of the mountaineers of the Asturias and the suppression of formidable insurrections, he successfully repelled the invasions of two powerful and warlike sovereigns in whose jurisdiction were included the most opulent and productive regions of the globe. Charlemagne, the greater of these, offered him the hand of his daughter and urged the alliance, which was declined on account of his failing health. Fertile in resources, the privations and sorrows of youth had taught him to bear adversity in silence if not with complacency. Thorough familiarity with the character of Berber and Arab convinced him that the pretensions of the children of the Desert were incompatible with the submission requisite to the exercise of royal authority, and he did not hesitate to crush, with a relentless hand, the insolence or the presumptuous freedom of a tribesman or a friend. Popular at first, this unusual severity in time alienated the warmest supporters of his throne. Inexorable necessity, the principles of self-protection and self-preservation, dependent upon conditions not unusual after a protracted period of revolution and anarchy, rendered the establishment of a despotism imperative. Once founded, it was maintained by an army of forty thousand mercenaries, chiefly recruited from the barbarians of Africa, enlisted with multitudes of enfranchised slaves, who were bound to the interests of the monarchy by the double tie of dependence and gratitude. The romantic spirit of adventure often impelled Abd-al-Rahman, in the early years of his reign, to wander in disguise through the streets of his capital; but the animosity engendered by frequent revolutions soon rendered this diversion too hazardous, and he was compelled to adopt the seclusion and the military precautions which provide for the security of royalty in the kingdoms of the Orient. The gradations of official rank, the territorial divisions of the empire, the duties of the magistracy, the regulations of police, were also, with slight modifications, framed after the pattern of similar institutions in the East. In these details of political organization the number twelve and its factors, so popular among nations of Semitic origin, were especially prominent. The Peninsula was divided into six provinces, each of which was subject to the jurisdiction of a military governor. Under the control of this dignitary were two walis and six viziers, who administered affairs of minor importance in their respective districts. These officials were assisted in their labors by a host of kadis and secretaries, who sent, at stated periods, regular reports of their proceedings to the Council, or Divan, at Cordova. The available moments of leisure, during a life of almost incessant conflict, were employed by Abd-al-Rahman in works intended for the improvement of the masses; in the perfection of regulations which encouraged the accumulation and permitted the unrestricted enjoyment of property; and in the promotion of educational and literary facilities, as well as in the institution of measures upon whose enforcement absolutely depended the continuance of his power. He repaired the Roman highways that traversed the Peninsula. He established a system of couriers, with relays of post-horses, for the rapid transmission of important despatches. He ruled the fierce outlaws of the Peninsula, whose trade was rapine, and who considered mercy an indication of cowardice, by the only means they respected, the government of the sword. They hated and cursed him, they plotted against his life, they rejected his gifts and spurned his honors, but they obeyed his commands, for they stood in wholesome dread of his resentment, and had been taught, by many a bloody lesson, the consequences of disputing his authority. During his reign, for the first time since the Conquest, the nomadic propensity of the Berbers, the source of incessant disturbance and universal insecurity, was restrained, and these barbarians were compelled to conform to the laws and to choose a settled habitation. A code of judicature, adapted to the circumstances of a population composed of so many diverse and often hostile constituents, was framed, in whose statutes the useful institutions of the Visigoths were recognized under the general predominance of Moslem law.

Abd-al-Rahman made frequent excursions through his dominions, the better to familiarize himself with the conduct of his officers and the necessities of his subjects. His course was marked by charity to the needy; by munificent donations for public improvements; by institutions for the encouragement of the arts; by the erection of magnificent palaces and temples. But his generosity, ample elsewhere, was displayed with unprecedented lavishness in his capital, the object of his pride and of his peculiar affection. Its plan, its buildings, its fortifications, its suburbs, were modelled after those of beautiful Damascus. A palm-tree, the first ever seen in Spain, was brought from Syria, and planted in the court-yard of the royal palace as a memorial of the scenes of his childhood. In the environs of the city he laid out a garden, called Rusafah, after one formerly possessed by his grandfather, Hischem, and of which it was the counterpart. A mint was founded in Cordova, whose coins were identical in design, weight, and inscription with the pieces issued by the Ommeyade princes of Syria. The fame of the court and the reputation of the sovereign attracted to the Moslem capital of the West the learned and the polite of every clime. The spirit of literary emulation and philosophical inquiry, which attained such a remarkable development under succeeding khalifs, began to be awakened. The sovereign himself composed with facility and correctness verses of considerable merit. His sons were provided with the best instruction that the age afforded; were compelled to be present during the transactions of the Divan and the business of the courts; and were frequently entrusted with the negotiation of treaties and the administration of government. The public taste was cultivated by periodical literary contests, in which the most accomplished scholars and poets of the day participated; where splendid rewards for proficiency were distributed; and whose proceedings were invested with additional prestige by the presence and supervision of royalty.

Neither the brutal skepticism of the court of Damascus nor the prevalent idolatry and blasphemy of Spain seem to have affected the piety of Abd-al-Rahman. Whether induced by motives of interest or by sincere belief, it is certain that he ever observed with scrupulous exactness the ceremonial of his faith. Fully alive to the advantages—social, political, commercial, and religious—connected with a splendid temple, which, by reason of its magnificence and its sanctity, might become a place of pilgrimage, he had long meditated the construction of such an edifice, an aspiration whose fulfilment was deferred for many years by continuous reverses of fortune. The possession of the cities of Mecca and Jerusalem by a hostile dynasty had vastly increased the difficulties imposed upon such Mussulmans of the Peninsula as desired to make the arduous journey to the venerated shrines of the East. Moreover, the subjects of the Ommeyade ruler were regarded with suspicion and dislike by the sovereigns of Bagdad; and Abd-al-Rahman had, from every pulpit in the realm of the Abbasides, been proclaimed a usurper, a rebel, and an impostor. The success that finally attended his arms, and insured the permanent establishment of his authority, also rendered possible the realization of a project dictated by a more noble and lofty ambition. His political sagacity detected at a glance the influence such a temple would exert over the minds of a highly imaginative and superstitious people. Its erection would gratify their national pride. Its presence in the midst of the capital would consolidate and confirm the power of the state. The sentiment of loyalty still entertained by the descendants of Arabian exiles for the home of their fathers would be transferred to another land, whose shrine, if it did not equal that of Mecca in wealth, would certainly surpass it in grandeur and beauty. “My mosque,” said the great statesman, “will soon demand a khalif; my sons will assume that title; and the dispute between the East and West will be terminated forever. Our constitution is based entirely upon a religious principle, and my subjects will soon accustom themselves to see nothing beyond my children but the eye of Allah and the sword of the Prophet.”

In the turbulent times of the Conquest every place of worship possessed by the Christians in Cordova, save one, was destroyed. In the cathedral alone, whose ownership was insured by treaty, were the infidels permitted to perform the rites enjoined by their creed. In accordance with a custom prevalent in the East, where, however, it must be acknowledged, it was unusual, under ordinary circumstances, to violate engagements entered into with Christians, half of the cathedral had been forcibly appropriated and consecrated to the service of Islam. It was not many years, however, before its limited area was found inadequate to the requirements of the crowds of immigrants and proselytes that were daily added to the population of the growing capital. The location being the most desirable in the city, a proposition was made by Abd-al-Rahman for the purchase of the remaining half of the edifice. The bishop refused, on the reasonable ground that no other building would then be available for the celebration of the rites of the Christian faith. But the importunity of the Emir prevailed in the end; and the Christians obtained for their concessions the sum of a hundred thousand dinars, and, in addition, the extraordinary privilege of erecting a certain number of churches to replace those of which they had been deprived by the rage of fanaticism and the calamities of war.

The plan of the mosque was traced by Abd-al-Rahman himself, and the first stone of the foundation was laid by his own hands. Oppressed with age and physical infirmities, and haunted by a presentiment that he would not live to see his work completed, he exhausted every effort to accelerate its progress. A vast number of laborers were employed. The assistance of the governors of distant provinces was invoked for the collection and transportation of materials. The emulation of the artisans was excited by the example of the enfeebled sovereign, who, for one hour every day, personally shared the toil of his humble companions. The vaults of the public treasury were opened without restriction for the benefit of an undertaking which appealed alike to the patriotic impulses and the religious sentiment of the nation. The work progressed with astonishing rapidity, but not fast enough to satisfy the feverish impatience of the illustrious architect. It was his desire while he yet had strength to perform in those sacred precincts, as the representative of the Prophet, the simple ceremonial of the faith so dear to the heart of every Mussulman. A space was cleared within the enclosure. An awning was raised, and the unfinished walls were hung with tapestry from the palace. There, surrounded with heaps of materials, with half-chiselled capitals and naked columns, the Emir, in his snowy robes of office, ascended the temporary pulpit, led the prayers, and directed the devotions of a vast concourse assembled from every quarter of the Moslem capital. It was the last important act of his life. A few weeks later the multitudes who had listened with silent reverence to his discourse in the Djalma followed his remains to the tomb.

Thus, his destiny accomplished and his task performed, died the founder of one of the greatest dynasties that Europe has ever known. He possessed, in ample measure, the attributes of a wise, a politic, an enlightened sovereign. His spirit had been chastened and his courage tried by many years of persecution and misfortune. The cruelty with which he has been reproached was a necessary consequence of the turbulent condition of the society he was called upon to govern. The solution of the political problem which confronted him was not a mere question of supremacy; it involved the integrity of the Saracen domination in the Peninsula and his own existence as a ruler and as an individual. Force was the only argument used by his adversaries, and the only one they respected. The influence of the Koran was scarcely felt. The great majority of the inhabitants of Spain were Pagans and infidels. The Berbers, who largely preponderated, were fetich worshippers and believers in witchcraft and sorcery. Years of impunity and unrestricted license had rendered these wild barbarians more ferocious in disposition, more impatient of control. Public hostility and private feuds, the acrimonious disputes between contending sects, the alternate proscriptions of successful factions, the hope of future revenge, made permanent reconciliation impossible. In every community existed a large and compact body of enemies, different in nationality, antagonistic in faith, firmly united by the evils of common misfortune, who entertained, under a delusive aspect of submission, dangerous aspirations for political and religious liberty. Those nearest in blood to the monarch sought, with unnatural vindictiveness, the life of their kinsman and benefactor. In the Asturian mountains the power of a rising kingdom, established by a band of intrepid exiles, had begun seriously to encroach upon the Moslem possessions of the North. The arms of the most powerful sovereigns of Europe and Asia were directed, from the Mediterranean and from the Pyrenees, against a prince whose dominions were agitated and whose resources impaired by anarchy and sedition. Exasperated by the interference of the Abbasides, he long contemplated an expedition to the coast of Syria, a project which the obstinacy of his domestic enemies made impossible. Under such conditions government by the scimetar was certainly not inexcusable. These considerations demanded also the employment of foreign mercenaries. They stimulated the vigilance and justified the severity of the judicial tribunals. They prompted the cultivation of religious sentiments as an auxiliary of royal power by the erection of superb houses of worship. They suggested the statesmanlike expedient of diverting the attention of the populace from scenes of disorder, by the endowment of public institutions, by the cultivation of the arts, by the diffusion of knowledge.

Abd-al-Rahman was not, by nature, tyrannical. He was ever ready to listen to the complaints and redress the wrongs of the unfortunate. The most bitter partisanship never refused him the attribute of strict and impartial justice. If his severity was sometimes not tempered by compassion, it was never aggravated by deliberate cruelty. In his privacy he was affable; in his public conduct dignified; in his intercourse with his inferiors the embodiment of gentle courtesy. Temperate in his pleasures, the court of Cordova never exhibited the disgraceful scenes that offended religion and decency in the palaces and gardens of Damascus. Without him the Ommeyade dynasty of the West would never have existed; and without that dynasty a large portion of the treasures of ancient learning would have been forever lost; the spirit of scientific inquiry would have been crushed by ecclesiastical intolerance; the hopes of intellectual freedom suppressed; and the civilization of Europe retarded for many centuries.

From the accession of Abd-al-Rahman I. dates the autonomy of Moorish Spain under the Khalifate of the West. Its rulers, however, while enjoying all the power and attributes of independent sovereigns, and, as such, requiring the implicit obedience of their subjects and the recognition of foreign nations, did not, until the reign of Abd-al-Rahman III., publicly assume the title of Successors of the Prophet, but exercised their despotism under the less conspicuous appellation of Emirs, or Governors. Many inducements led to the adoption of this policy. Moslems still generally regarded the regions of the East as the source of orthodox belief and the seat of legitimate empire. The survivors of the House of Ommeyah were under the ban of the dynasty of Damascus and Bagdad. The conditions of society in the Peninsula were unsettled. Everywhere the slightest pretext for rebellion was welcomed with rejoicing by multitudes of desperate outlaws and fanatics. Ambitious enthusiasts lost no opportunity of inflaming the public mind, only too susceptible to agitation, whenever a revolt could increase their gains or contribute to their notoriety. The union of Church and State under the constitution of Islam made interference with the established order of affairs doubly perilous. The premature appropriation of the venerated title of Khalif by the exiled Ommeyade princes would have entailed the reproach of sacrilege, and might have overturned their empire, neither founded on prescriptive right, supported by popular affection, nor maintained by adequate military force. The assertion of pretensions far less obnoxious to religious prejudice had frequently produced serious disorders. By such a claim the dignity of the greatest of Mohammedan dynasties could receive no accession commensurate with the risk it involved. Its princes might well, for a time, forego the titles while in full possession of the substance of power. Such were some of the politic considerations which long retained, in a nominally subordinate capacity, the most despotic and irresponsible monarchs of Europe.

The awakening of the national spirit consequent upon the civil wars of Spain not only permitted the organization of the kingdom of the Asturias, but it was also productive of a disaster scarcely less serious,—the loss of the Moslem possessions in France. From the day of his accession, the energies of Pepin were devoted to the conquest and expulsion of the Moorish colonists of Provence and Languedoc. The treason of a Gothic chieftain delivered into his hands the principal cities of Septimania, except Narbonne. That capital sustained a siege of more than six years’ duration, an intense prejudice against the Franks inducing the Roman and Gothic inhabitants to support the efforts of the Arab garrison; but in the end, the popular discontent and the hopeless prospect of assistance from Cordova impelled the prominent citizens to propose terms of accommodation with the enemy. A capitulation was arranged by which the besieged were to be conceded the privilege of government by their own laws, but at the last moment the Saracens refused their assent; hostilities were resumed, and the garrison, greatly outnumbered by the Christian mob, was annihilated. For forty-one years the laws, the customs, and the religion of the Moslems had prevailed in Southern France. The traces of their domination, as disclosed by the physical and mental characteristics of the peasantry, have not been effaced by the vicissitudes of more than a thousand years. This temporary occupation, as will be seen hereafter, was also productive of a marked effect upon the manners and the polite literature of Europe, through the diffusion of Hispano-Arab culture, the influence of the lays of the troubadours, and the adoption of the laws of chivalry. The intercourse with the Khalifate of Spain, suspended for a period, was renewed; relations of even closer intimacy were established; a community of ideas, tastes, and sympathies developed sentiments of mutual esteem; and the characteristics of the brilliant and intellectual society of Cordova were reflected in the refined voluptuousness, the extensive learning, and the polished skepticism that subsequently distinguished the courts of the Albigensian princes.