Charlemagne was at this time building up his colossal empire. His
Christian soul was mightily stirred by seeing an infidel kingdom set
up in Andalusia; and when, in 777, the Saracen governor and two other
Arab chiefs appealed to him for aid against the Omeyyad usurper,
Abd-er-Rahman, he eagerly responded. His grandfather Charles Martel
had driven these infidels back over the Pyrenees; now he would drive
them out of Spain, and reclaim that land for Christianity!
His army never reached farther than Saragossa. He was recalled to
France by a revolt of the recently conquered Saxons, and the "Battle
of Roncesvalles" is the historic monument of the ill-starred attempt.
The battle in itself was insignificant. No action of such small
importance has ever been invested with such a glamour of romance,
nor the theme of so much legend and poetry. It has been called the
Thermopylae of the Pyrenees, because of the personal valor displayed,
and the tragic death of the two great Paladins (as the twelve Peers of
Charlemagne were called) Roland and Olivier. The _Chanson de Roland_
was one of the famous ballads in the early literature of Europe, and
Roland and Olivier were to French and Spanish minstrelsy what the
knights of King Arthur were to the English.
The simple story about which so much has been written and sung is
this: As the retreating army of Charlemagne was crossing the Pyrenees,
the rear of the army under Roland and Olivier was ambuscaded in the
narrow pass of Roncesvalles by the Basques and exterminated to a man.
These Basques were the unconquerable mountain tribe of which we heard
so much in the early history of Spain. They had been on guard for
centuries, keeping the Franks back from the Pyrenees. They may have
been acting under Saracenic influence when they exterminated the
rear-guard of Charlemagne's army. But it was done, not because they
loved the Saracen, but because they had a hereditary hatred for the
Franks.
Mediaeval Europe never tired of hearing of the Great Charles' lament
over his Roland: "O thou right arm of my kingdom,--defender of the
Christians,--scourge of the Saracens! How can I behold thee dead, and
not die myself! Thou art exalted to the heavenly kingdom,--and I am
left alone, a poor miserable King!"