the martyrdom of saints and the performance of miracles, have
scarcely mentioned the achievements of the most remarkable personage
of his time. Their well-known enmity to his name, associated with
the appropriation of church property, although employed for the
preservation of Christendom, has had, no doubt, much to do with this
contemptuous silence. Pepin, using the privilege sanctioned by the
depraved manners of the age, lived in concubinage with Alpäide, the
mother of Charles, whose social position was yet so little inferior
to that of a matrimonial alliance that she is often spoken of as a
second wife. An austere prelate, Lambert by name, who occupied the See
of Maestricht, with a boldness and zeal unusual in the complaisant
churchmen of the eighth century, saw fit to publicly rebuke Pepin
for this unlawful connection, and, with studied insult, rejected the
hospitality which the kindness of the Mayor of the Palace had tendered
him. Offended by this exhibition of ill-breeding and independence,
the brother of the lady procured the murder of the bishop, who was
forthwith canonized, and is still prominent among the most efficient
intercessors of the Roman Catholic calendar. The murderers, careless
alike of the anathemas of the Church and of the process of the law,
remained unpunished; while the populace of Liege, where the bishop
was a favorite, erected a chapel to the memory of the fearless
ecclesiastic. The whole occurrence affords a curious and striking
commentary on the immorality, lawlessness, and peculiar domestic habits
of the Middle Ages in France.
Tradition has ascribed to Charles the assassination of his brother
Grimwald, with whom he was to have shared his paternal inheritance;
and the absence of any other known motive, the avowed hostility of his
father, who imprisoned him, as well as the significant silence of the
historians--evidently trembling under the stern rule of the Mayor of
the Palace--give considerable probability to this hypothesis. Although
disinherited, the attachment of the people was such that he was,
immediately after the death of Pepin, rescued from a dungeon and raised
to the dukedom. Succeeding events justified the wisdom of this measure.
The address of Charles allayed the civil dissensions of the Franks; his
valor and military genius awed and restrained the restless barbarians
of Germany. Although unquestionably the preserver of Christianity, he
is more than suspected of having been an idolater, his title, Martel,
having been traced by antiquaries to the hammer of Thor, the emblem
of the war-god of Scandinavia. He had no reverence for the Church,
no belief in its doctrines, no consideration for its possessions, no
regard for its ministers. He seized reliquaries and sacred vessels
destined for communion with God, and coined them into money to pay the
expenses of his campaigns. He despoiled the clergy of their lands and
partitioned them among his followers. The most eminent of his captains
he invested with the offices of bishops, after expelling the rightful
incumbents in order to the better retain control of their confiscated
estates. This sacrilegious policy, while it exasperated the priesthood,
endeared him to his soldiers who were the recipients of his bounty;
but the wrath of the ecclesiastical order was not appeased even by his
inestimable services to its cause. Anathematized by popes and councils,
legends inspired by monkish credulity and hatred have solemnly asserted
that his soul had been repeatedly seen by holy men surrounded by demons
in the depths of hell.
Of the personal characteristics, habits, and domestic life of Charles
Martel we know absolutely nothing. Equally silent is history as to
the regulations of his capital, the constitution of his court, the
rules of his military tactics, the principles of his government, the
names of his councillors. The bitterness of ecclesiastical prejudice
while it has cursed his memory has not been able to tarnish his renown.
Historical justice has given him the full measure of credit due to his
exploits, whose importance was not appreciated by his contemporaries,
and has accorded him a high rank among the great military commanders
of the world. Accustomed to arms from childhood, Charles had passed
the greater portion of his life in camps. He had conquered Neustria,
intimidated Burgundy, and had, in many successful expeditions against
the formidable barbarians of the Rhine, left bloody evidences of
his prowess as far as the banks of the Elbe and the Danube. He had
laid claim to the suzerainty of Aquitaine in the name of the royal
figure-head under whose authority he prosecuted his conquests; and
Eudes had hitherto regarded his demonstrations with even greater fear
and aversion than the periodical forays of the Saracens. Now, however,
the crestfallen Duke of Aquitaine sought the presence of his ancient
foe, did homage to him, and implored his aid. The practised eye and
keen intellect of Charles discerned at once the serious nature of the
impending danger, and with characteristic promptitude sought to avert
it. His soldiers, living only in camps and always under arms, were
ready to march at a moment’s notice. Soon a great army was assembled,
and, amidst the deafening shouts of the soldiery, the general of the
Franks, confident of the superiority of his followers in endurance
and discipline, advanced to meet the enemy. The latter, discouraged
by the bold front presented by the inhabitants of Poitiers, who had
been nerved to desperation by the memorable example of Bordeaux, had,
in the mean time, raised the siege, and were marching towards Tours,
attracted by the fame of the vast wealth of the Church and Abbey of
St. Martin. Upon an immense plain between the two cities the rival
hosts confronted each other. This same region, the centre of France,
still cherished the remembrance of a former contest in which, centuries
before, the Goths and Burgundians under command of Ætius had avenged
the wrongs of Europe upon the innumerable hordes of Attila. Of good
augury and a harbinger of success was this former victory regarded
by the stalwart warriors of the North, now summoned a second time
to check the progress of the barbarian flood of the Orient. Widely
different in race, in language, in personal appearance, in religion, in
military evolutions and in arms, each secretly dreading the result of
the inevitable conflict and each unwilling to retire, for seven days
the two armies remained without engaging, but constantly drawn up in
battle array. Finally, unable to longer restrain the impetuosity of
the Arabs, Abd-al-Rahman gave orders for the attack. With loud cries
the light squadrons of Moorish cavalry, followed pell-mell by the vast
mob of foot soldiers, hurled themselves upon the solid, steel-clad
files of the Franks. But the latter stood firm--like a “wall of ice,”
in the quaint language of the ancient chronicler--the darts and arrows
of the Saracens struck harmlessly upon helmet and cuirass, while the
heavy swords and maces of the men-at-arms of Charles made frightful
havoc among the half-naked bodies of their assailants. Night put an end
to the battle, and the Franks, for the moment relieved from an ordeal
which they had sustained with a courage worthy of their reputation,
invoking the aid of their saints, yet not without misgivings for the
morrow, slept upon their arms. At dawn the conflict was renewed with
equal ardor and varying success until the afternoon, when a division
of cavalry under the Duke of Aquitaine succeeded in turning the flank
of the enemy, and began to pillage his camp. As the tidings of this
misfortune spread through the ranks of the Moslems, large numbers
deserted their standards and turned back to recover their booty, far
more valuable in their estimation than even their own safety or the
triumph of their cause. Great confusion resulted; the retreat became
general; the Franks redoubled their efforts; and Abd-al-Rahman,
endeavoring to rally his disheartened followers, fell pierced with
a hundred wounds. That night, aided by the darkness, the Saracens
silently withdrew, leaving their tents and heavy baggage behind.
Charles, fearful of ambuscades, and having acquired great respect for
the prowess of his adversaries, whose overwhelming numbers, enabling
them to attack him in both front and rear, had seriously thinned his
ranks, declined the pursuit, and with the spoils abandoned by the
Saracens returned to his capital.
The Arabs have left us no account of the losses sustained in this
battle. The mendacious monks, however, to whom by reason of their
knowledge of letters was necessarily entrusted the task of recording
the events of the time, have computed the loss of the invaders at
three hundred and seventy-five thousand, probably thrice the number
of all the combatants engaged; while that of the Franks is regarded
as too insignificant to be mentioned. The very fact that Charles was
disinclined to take advantage of the condition of his enemies loaded
with plunder, deprived of their commander, and dejected by defeat,
shows of itself that his army must have greatly suffered. The principal
accounts that we possess of this battle, whose transcendent importance
is recognized by every student of history, bear unmistakable evidence
of the ecclesiastical partiality under whose influence they were
composed. Monkish writers have exhausted their prolific imagination in
recounting the miraculous intervention of the saints and the prowess
of the champions of the Cross, which insured the preservation of
Christianity. The Arabs, however, usually accurate and minute even
in the relation of their misfortunes, have not paid the attention to
this great event which its effect upon their fortunes would seem to
warrant. Many ignore it altogether. Others pass it by with a few words.
Some refer to it, not as a stubbornly contested engagement, but as a
rout provoked by the disorders of an unwieldy multitude, inflamed with
fanaticism, divided by faction, impatient of discipline. From such
meagre and discordant materials must be constructed the narrative of
one of the most momentous occurrences in the history of the world.
An account of the crushing defeat of Poitiers having been communicated
to the Viceroy of Africa, he appointed Abd-al-Melik-Ibn-Kattan, an
officer of the African army, Emir of Spain, and, presenting him with
his commission, urgently exhorted him to avenge the reverse which had
befallen the Moslem arms. The martial spirit of this commander, in
whom the lapse of fourscore and ten years had not sensibly impaired
the vigor of his mind or the activity of his body, was roused to
enthusiasm by the prospect of an encounter with the idolaters of the
North. Detained for a time in Cordova by the disturbances resulting
from the disorganization of all branches of the government, he
attempted, at the head of the remains of the defeated army and a
reinforcement which had accompanied him from Africa, to thread the
dangerous passes of the Pyrenees. But the time was ill-chosen; the
rainy season was at hand; and the Saracens, hemmed in by impassable
torrents, fell an easy prey to the missiles of an enterprising enemy.
The march became a series of harassing skirmishes; and it was with
the greatest difficulty that the Emir was enabled to extricate the
remainder of his troops from the snare into which his want of caution
had conducted them. Disgusted with the miscarriage of the expedition
from whose results so much had been expected, Obeydallah, Viceroy of
Africa, promptly deposed Abd-al-Melik, and nominated his own brother,
Okbah-Ibn-al-Hejaj, to the vacant position. A martinet in severity and
routine, Okbah enjoyed also a well-founded reputation for justice and
integrity. He soon became the terror of the corrupt and tyrannical
officials who infested the administration. He removed such as had been
prominent for cruelty, fraud, or incompetency. To all who were guilty
of peculation, or of even indirectly reflecting upon the honor and
dignity of the Khalif, he was inexorable. With a view to insuring the
safety of the highways, he formed a mounted police, the Kaschefs, in
which may be traced the germ of the Hermandad of the fifteenth century
and the modern Gendarmes and Civil Guards of France and Spain. From
this institution, extended to the frontiers of Moslem territory as far
as the Rhone, was derived the military organization of the Ribat--the
prototype of the knightly orders of Calatrava, Alcantara, and Santiago,
which played so conspicuous a part in the Reconquest. Okbah established
a court in every village, so that all honest citizens might enjoy the
protection of the law. His fostering care also provided each community
with a school sustained by a special tax levied for that purpose.
Devout to an almost fanatical degree, he erected a mosque whenever the
necessities of the people seemed to demand it, and, thoroughly alive to
the advantages of a religious education, he attached to every place of
worship a minister who might instruct the ignorant in the doctrines of
the Koran and the duties of a faithful Mussulman. He repressed with
an iron hand the ferocious spirit of the vagrant tribes of Berbers,
whose kinsmen in Africa had, in many battles, formerly experienced
the effects of his valor and discipline. By equalizing the taxation
borne by different communities, he secured the gratitude of districts
which had hitherto been oppressed by grievous impositions, rendered
still more intolerable by the rapacity of unprincipled governors.
No period in the history of the emirate was distinguished by such
important and radical reforms as that included in the administration of
Okbah-Ibn-al-Hejaj.
The Berbers, having engaged in one of their periodical revolts in
Africa, Obeydallah, unable to make headway against them, sent a
despatch requiring the immediate attendance of Okbah. The latter,
at the head of a body of cavalry, crossed the strait, and, after a
decisive battle, put the rebels to flight. His services were found so
indispensable by the Viceroy that he kept him near his person in the
capacity of councillor for four years, while he still enjoyed the title
and emoluments of governor of Spain. In the meantime, the greatest
disorders prevailed in the Peninsula. The salutary reforms which
had employed the leisure and exercised the abilities of the prudent
Viceroy were swept away; the old order of things was renewed; and the
provinces of the emirate were disgraced by the revival of feuds, by the
oppression of the weak, by the neglect of agriculture, by unchecked
indulgence in peculation, and by the universal prevalence of anarchy
and bloodshed.
The dread of Charles Martel and the ruthless barbarians under his
command was wide-spread throughout the provinces of Southern France.
Their excesses appeared the more horrible when contrasted with the
tolerant and equitable rule of the Saracens who garrisoned the towns of
Septimania. The Provençal, whose voluptuous habits led him to avoid the
hardships of the camp, and whose religious ideas, little infected with
bigotry, saw nothing repulsive in the law of Islam, determined to seek
the aid of his swarthy neighbors of the South. As Charles had already
ravaged the estates of Maurontius, Duke of Marseilles, only desisting
when recalled by a revolt of the Saxons, that powerful noble, whose
authority extended over the greater part of Provence, in anticipation
of his return, entered into negotiations with Yusuf-Ibn-Abd-al-Rahman,
wali of Narbonne; a treaty was concluded, by the terms of which the
Arabs were invited to assume the suzerainty of Provence, many towns
were ceded to them, and the counts rendered homage to the Moslem
governor, who, in order to discharge his portion of the obligation
and afford protection to his new subjects, assembled his forces upon
the line of the northern frontier. It was at this time that Okbah was
summoned to quell the rebellion of the Berbers just as he was upon
the point of advancing to secure, by a powerful reinforcement, this
valuable addition to his dominions.
Early in the year 737, Charles, having intimidated his enemies and
secured a temporary peace, made preparations for an active campaign
in Provence. Driving the Arabs out of Lyons, he advanced to the city
of Avignon, whose natural position was recognized by both Franks and
Saracens not only as a place of extraordinary strength but as the key
of the valley of the Rhone. Experience and contact with their more
civilized neighbors, the Italians, had instructed the Franks in the use
of military engines; and, notwithstanding the desperate resistance of
the Arab garrison, ably seconded by the inhabitants, Avignon was taken
by storm. The population was butchered without mercy, and Charles,
having completely glutted his vengeance by burning the city, left it a
heap of smoking ruins.
Having been delayed by the stubborn opposition of Avignon, and urged
by the clamors of his followers who thirsted for the rich spoils of
Septimania, the Frankish general, leaving the fortified town of Arles
in his rear, marched directly upon Narbonne. Thoroughly appreciating
the political and military importance of this stronghold, the capital
of their possessions in France, the Arabs had spared neither labor
nor expense to render it impregnable. The city was invested and the
siege pressed with vigor, but the fortifications defied the efforts
of the besiegers and little progress was made towards its reduction.
An expedition sent to reinforce it, making the approach by sea and
attempting to ascend the river Aude, was foiled by the vigilance
of Charles; the boats were stopped by palisades planted in the bed
of the stream; the Saracens, harassed by the enemy’s archers, were
despatched with arrows or drowned in the swamps; and, of a considerable
force, a small detachment alone succeeded in cutting its way through
the lines of the besiegers and entering the city. The temper of the
Franks was not proof, however, against the undaunted resolution of
the Arab garrison. Unable to restrain the growing impatience of
his undisciplined levies, Charles reluctantly abandoned the siege
and endeavored to indemnify himself for his disappointment by the
infliction of all the unspeakable atrocities of barbarian warfare
upon the territory accessible to his arms. Over the beautiful plains
of Provence and Languedoc, adorned with structures which recalled the
palmiest days of Athenian and Roman genius, and whose population was
the most polished of Western Europe, swept the fierce cavalry of the
Alps and the Rhine. Agde, Maguelonne, and Béziers were sacked. The
city of Nîmes, whose marvellous relics of antiquity are still the
delight of the student and the antiquary, provoked the indignation
of the invader by these marks of her intellectual superiority and
former greatness. Her walls were razed; her churches plundered; her
most eminent citizens carried away as hostages; her most splendid
architectural monuments delivered to the flames. The massive arches of
the Roman amphitheatre defied, however, the puny efforts of the enraged
barbarian; but their blackened stones still exhibit the traces of fire,
an enduring seal of the impotent malice of Charles Martel impressed in
the middle of the eighth century.
In this memorable invasion the Arab colonists do not seem to have
suffered so much as the indigenous population, which had long before
incurred the enmity of the Franks. The ecclesiastical order met with
scant courtesy at the hands of the idolaters. Despising the terrors of
anathema and excommunication, Charles did not hesitate to appropriate
the wealth of the Church wherever he could find it. Having inflicted
all the damage possible upon the subjects and allies of the Khalif in
Provence, the Franks, loaded with booty and driving before them a vast
multitude of captives chained together in couples, returned in triumph
to their homes.
This occupation of the Franks proved to be but temporary. The garrisons
left in the towns whose walls were intact were insufficient to overawe
the populace exasperated by the outrages it had just sustained. The
Duke of Marseilles, seconded by the wali of Arles, easily regained
control of the country around Avignon. But the return of Charles during
the following year with his ally Liutprand, King of the Lombards, and
a large army, not only recovered the lost territory but took Arles,
hitherto exempt from capture, and drove the Saracens beyond the Rhone,
which river for the future became their eastern boundary, a limit they
were destined never again to pass.
The absence of Okbah encouraged the spirit of rebellion, ever rife in
the Peninsula. He had hardly returned before the arts of intrigue and
the discontent of the populace raised up a formidable rival to his
authority. Abd-al-Melik-Ibn-Kattan, who had formerly been Emir, now
usurped that office. In the civil war which followed, the fortunes
of Abd-al-Melik soon received a powerful impulse by the death of his
competitor at Carcassonne.
We now turn to the coast of Africa, a region which from first to
last has exerted an extraordinary and always sinister influence over
the destinies of the Mohammedan empire in Europe. The intractable
character of the Berbers, and their aversion to the restraints of law
and the habits of civilized life, had defied the efforts of the ablest
soldiers and negotiators to control them. In consequence, the dominant
Arab element was not disposed to conciliate savages who recognized no
authority but that of force, and imposed upon them the most oppressive
exactions, prompted partly by avarice and partly by tribal hatred.
The impetus of Berber insurrection was communicated by contact and
sympathy to the settlements of their kindred in Spain, where the spirit
of insubordination under a less severe government made its outbreaks
more secure, and, at the same time, more formidable. Obeydallah, the
present Viceroy, was influenced by these feelings of scorn even more
than a majority of his countrymen. A true Arab, educated in the best
schools of Syria, of energetic character and bigoted impulses, he
regarded the untamable tribesmen of Africa as below the rank of slaves.
While collector of the revenue in Egypt he had provoked a rebellion
of the Copts on account of an arbitrary increase of taxes, levied
solely because the tributaries were infidels. Under his rule the lot of
the Berbers became harder than ever. Their flocks, which constituted
their principal wealth, were wantonly slaughtered to provide wool for
the couches of the luxurious nobility of Damascus. Their women were
seized, to be exposed in the slave-markets of Cairo and Antioch. Their
tributes were doubled at the caprice of the governor, in whose eyes the
life of a misbeliever was of no more consideration than that of a wild
beast, for, being enjoyed under protest, it could be forfeited at the
will of his superior. Day by day the grievances of the Berbers became
more unendurable, and the thirst for liberty and vengeance kept pace
with the ever-increasing abuses which had provoked it. At first the
tribes, while professedly Mussulman, in reality remained idolaters,
fetich-worshippers, the pliant tools of conjurers and charlatans. Over
the whole nation a priesthood--by snake-charming, by the interpretation
of omens, by spurious miracles, by the arts of sorcery--had acquired
unbounded influence; and the names of these impostors, canonized
after death, were believed to have more power to avert misfortune
than the invocation of the Almighty. In time, however, the zealous
labors of exiled Medinese and Persian non-conformists had supplanted
the grosser forms of this superstition by a religion whose fervor was
hardly equalled by that displayed by the most fanatical Companion
of Mohammed. The scoffing and polished Arabs of Syria, of whom the
Viceroy was a prominent example, Pagan by birth and infidel in belief
and practice, were sedulously represented as the enemies of Heaven and
the hereditary revilers of the Prophet, whom it was a duty to destroy.
These revolutionary sentiments, received in Africa with applause, were
diffused through Spain by the tide of immigration, in which country,
as elsewhere, they were destined soon to produce the most important
political results. The Berbers, wrought up to a pitch of ungovernable
fury, now only awaited a suitable opportunity to inaugurate the most
formidable revolt which had ever menaced the Mohammedan government
of Africa. In the year 740 an increased contribution was demanded of
the inhabitants of Tangier, whose relations with the savages of the
neighboring mountains had prevented the conversion of the former to
Islam. A division of the army was absent in Sicily, and the Berbers,
perceiving their advantage, rose everywhere against their oppressors.
They stormed Tangier, expelled the garrisons of the sea-coast cities,
elected a sovereign, and defeated in rapid succession every force sent
against them. The pride and resentment of the Khalif Hischem at last
impelled him to despatch a great army against his rebellious subjects.
It numbered seventy thousand, and was commanded by a distinguished
Syrian officer, Balj-Ibn-Beshr, who was ordered to put to death without
mercy every rebel who might fall into his hands and to indulge the
troops in all the license of indiscriminate pillage. Marching towards
the west, the Syrian general encountered the Berbers on the plain of
Mulwiyah. The naked bodies and inferior weapons of the insurgents
provoked the contempt of the soldiers of the Khalif, who expected an
easy victory; but the resistless impulse of the barbarians supplied
the want of arms and discipline, and the Syrians were routed with the
loss of two-thirds of their number. Some ten thousand horsemen, under
command of Balj, cut their way through the enemy and took refuge in
Ceuta. The Berbers, aware of the impossibility of reducing that place,
ravaged the neighborhood for miles around, and, having blockaded
the town on all sides, the Syrians, unable to escape or to obtain
provisions, were threatened with a lingering death by famine.
Abd-al-Melik, Emir of Spain, was a native of Medina. Half a century
before he had been prominent in the Arab army at the battle of Harra,
the bloody prelude to the sack of the Holy City and the enslavement and
exile of its citizens. To him, in vain, did the Syrian general apply
for vessels in which to cross the strait. The Arab chieftain, bearing
upon his body many scars inflicted by the spears of Yezid’s troopers
and who had seen his family and his neighbors massacred before his
face, now exulted in the prospect of an unhoped-for revenge; and, for
the complete accomplishment of his purpose, he issued stringent orders
against supplying the unfortunate Syrians with supplies. The sympathy
of Zeyad-Ibn-Amru, a wealthy resident of Cordova, was aroused by the
account of their sufferings, and he imprudently fitted out two vessels
for their relief; which act of insubordination having been communicated
to the Emir, he ordered Zeyad to be imprisoned, and, having put out his
eyes, impaled him, in company with a dog, a mark of ignominy inflicted
only on the worst of criminals.
The news of the decisive victory obtained by the Berbers over the army
of the Khalif was received with pride and rejoicing by all of their
countrymen in Spain. The efforts of the missionaries, aided by the
fiery zeal of their proselytes, had infused into the population of the
North, composed largely of African colonists, a spirit of fanaticism
which threatened to carry everything before it. In a moment the Berbers
of Aragon, Galicia, and Estremadura sprang to arms. Uniting their
forces they elected officers; then, organized in three divisions, they
prepared to dispute the authority of the Emir in the strongholds of
his power. One body marched upon Cordova, another invested Toledo, and
the third directed its course towards Algeziras, with designs upon the
fleet, by whose aid they expected to massacre the Syrians in Ceuta and
to collect a body of colonists sufficient to destroy the haughty Arab
aristocracy of the Peninsula and found an independent kingdom, Berber
in nationality, schismatic and precisian in religion.
And now were again exhibited the singular inconsistencies and
remarkable effects of the fatal antagonism of race. The critical
condition of Abd-al-Melik compelled him to implore the support of his
Syrian foes, whom he hated with far more bitterness than he did his
rebellious subjects, and who were also thoroughly cognizant of his
feelings towards them as well as of the political necessity which
prompted his advances. A treaty was executed, by whose terms the
Syrians were to be transported into Spain and pledged their assistance
to crush the rebellion, and, after this had been accomplished, the
Emir agreed to land them in Africa upon a territory which acknowledged
the jurisdiction of the Khalif. Hostages selected from their principal
officers were delivered by the half-famished refugees, and they
embarked for Andalusia, where the policy of the government and the
sympathy of the people supplied them with food, clothing, and arms, and
their drooping spirits soon revived. These experienced soldiers, united
with the forces of Abd-al-Melik, attacked and routed with ease, one
after another, the three Berber armies. All of the plunder which the
latter had collected fell into their hands, in addition to that secured
by expeditions into the now undefended country of their enemies. His
apprehensions concerning the Berbers having been removed, Abd-al-Melik
now became anxious to relieve his dominions of the presence of allies
whose success rendered them formidable. But the allurements of soil
and climate had made the Syrians reluctant to abandon the beautiful
land of Andaluz,--the region where they had accumulated so much
wealth, the scene where their efforts had been crowned with so much
glory. Disputes arose between their leader and the Emir concerning the
interpretation of the treaty; the Syrian general, conscious of his
power, lost no opportunity to provoke the fiery temper of Abd-al-Melik;
and, at last, taking advantage of a favorable occasion, he expelled
the latter from his capital. Balj, elected to the viceroyalty by his
command, proceeded at once to extend and confirm his newly acquired
authority. The hostages confined near Algeziras were released, and
their accounts of harsh treatment enraged their companions, who
recalled their own sufferings and the inhumanity of Abd-al-Melik during
their blockade in Ceuta. With loud cries they demanded the death of the
Emir. The efforts of their officers to stem the torrent were futile; a
mob dragged the venerable prince from his palace, and, taking him to
the bridge outside the city of Cordova, crucified him between a dog and
a hog, animals whose contact is suggestive of horrible impurity to a
Mussulman and whose very names are epithets of vileness and contempt.
Thus perished ignominiously this stout old soldier, who could boast
of the purest blood of the Koreish; who had witnessed the wonderful
changes of three eventful generations; who had seen service under the
standard of Islam in Arabia, Egypt, Al-Maghreb, France, and Spain;
who had bravely defended the tomb of the Prophet at Medina, and had
confronted with equal resolution the mail-clad squadrons of Charles
upon the banks of the Rhone; who had twice administered in troublous
times the affairs of the Peninsula; and who now, long past that age
when men seek retirement from the cares of public life, still active
and vigorous, was sacrificed, through his own imprudence, to the
irreconcilable hatred of tribal antagonism. An act of such atrocity,
without considering the prominence of the victim, the nationality of
the participants, or the degree of provocation, was, independent of its
moral aspect, highly impolitic and most prejudicial to the interests
of the revolutionists. The Syrians became practically isolated in a
foreign country. The sons of Abd-al-Melik, who held important commands
in the North, assembled a great army. Reinforcements were furnished by
the governor of Narbonne, and the fickle Berbers joined in considerable
numbers the ranks of their former adversaries.
At a little village called Aqua-Portera, not far from Cordova, the
Arabs and Berbers attacked the foreigners, who had enlisted as their
auxiliaries a number of criminals and outlaws. In the battle which
followed the latter were victorious, but lost their general Balj, who
fell in a single combat with the governor of Narbonne. The Syrians,
whose choice was immediately confirmed by the Khalif, elected as his
successor, Thalaba-Ibn-Salamah, a monster whose name was afterwards
stained with acts of incredible infamy. His inhumanity was proverbial.
His troops gave no quarter. The wives and children of his opponents,
whose liberty even the most violent of his party had respected, were
enslaved. Other victims he had previously exposed at auction before
the gates of Cordova, under circumstances of the grossest cruelty
and humiliation. The most illustrious of these were nobles of the
party of Medina. By an exquisite refinement of insult he caused them
to be disposed of to the lowest, instead of the highest, bidder, and
even bartered publicly for impure and filthy animals the descendants
of the friends of Mohammed, members of the proudest families of the
aristocracy of Arabia. But the atrocities of Thalaba had already
alienated many of the adherents of his own party as well as terrified
those of the opposite faction, who had no mercy to expect at the hands
of a leader who neither observed the laws of war nor respected the
faith of treaties. Upon the application of these citizens, most of
them men of high rank and influential character, the Viceroy of Africa
sent Abu-al-Khattar to supersede the sanguinary Thalaba. He arrived
just in time to rescue the unhappy Berbers, many of them Moslems, who
were already ranged in order for systematic massacre. His power was
soon felt; and by banishing the leaders of the insurgents; by granting
a general amnesty; by an ample distribution of unsettled territory;
and by conferring upon the truculent strangers a portion of the public
revenues, an unusual degree of peace and security was soon assured to
the entire Peninsula. In accordance with a policy adopted many years
before, the various colonists were assigned to districts which bore
some resemblance, in their general features, to the land of their
nativity, a plan which offered the additional advantage of separating
these turbulent spirits from each other, thus rendering mutual
co-operation difficult, if not impossible, in any enterprise affecting
the safety or permanence of the central power.
The first months of the administration of Abu-al-Khattar were
distinguished by a degree of forbearance and charity unusual amidst
the disorder which now prevailed in every province of the Moslem
empire. But his partisans had wrongs to avenge, and the Emir had not
the moral courage to resist the importunate demands of his kindred. An
unjust judicial decision provoked reproach; insult led to bloodshed;
the fiery Maadites rushed to arms; and once more the Peninsula assumed
its ordinary aspect of political convulsion and civil war. Al-Samil
and Thalaba, two captains of distinction, obtained the supremacy; the
Emir was imprisoned, then rescued, and, after several ineffectual
attempts to regain his authority, put to death. Having overpowered its
adversary, the triumphant Maadite faction gratified its revengeful
impulses to the utmost by plunder, torture, and assassination. At
length the condition of affairs becoming intolerable, and no prospect
existing of relief from the East, where the candidates of rival tribes
contended for the tempting prize of the khalifate, a council of
officers was convoked, and Yusuf-Abd-al-Rahman-al-Fehri was unanimously
chosen governor of Spain.
This commander had, by many years of faithful service in France, by
strict impartiality in his decisions, and by a bravery remarkable among
a people with whom the slightest sign of cowardice was an indelible
disgrace, won the respect and admiration of his contemporaries. His
lineage was high, his person attractive, his manners dignified and
courteous. He had defended Narbonne against the power of Charles
Martel, whose army, flushed with victory and animated by the presence
of the great Mayor of the Palace himself, had been unable to shake his
confidence or disturb his equanimity. But his eminent qualifications
for the position to which he was now called did not depend upon his
former services and his personal merit so much as upon the absence
which had kept him from all the entanglements and intrigues of faction.
Thus it was that the fiercest partisans hailed his election as a
harbinger of peace and concord; a wise stroke of policy that might
reconcile the antagonistic pretensions of the nobles of Damascus and
Medina; curb the lawlessness of the Berbers; and restore the Emirate of
the West to that tranquillity and prosperity it had at long intervals
enjoyed, and of which the memory, like a half-forgotten tradition,
alone remained. This illegal act of the officers was without hesitation
sanctioned by the Khalif Merwan, who prudently overlooked the spirit of
independence implied by its exercise on account of its evident wisdom
and the imperative necessity which had dictated it.
The disorders of the unhappy Peninsula had, however, become incurable
under the present conditions of government. All the skill and
experience of Yusuf were exhausted in fruitless attempts at the
adjustment of territorial disputes and the pacification of feuds which
a generation of internecine conflict had engendered. An insurrection
broke out in Septimania, a province hitherto exempt from similar
disturbances. Ahmed-Ibn-Amru, wali of Seville, whom Yusuf had removed
from the command of the fleet, a chief of the Koreish, whose vast
estates enabled him to surpass the magnificence of the Emir himself,
and an aspirant for supreme power, organized and headed a formidable
conspiracy. His name was associated with the early triumphs of Islam,
for he was the great-grandson of the ensign who had borne the standard
of Mohammed at the battle of Bedr. Prompted by unusual audacity,
which was confirmed by the possession of wealth, ability, and power,
he asserted that he had received the commission of the Abbasides as
Viceroy of Spain. The Asturians, emboldened by the quarrels of their
foes, leaving their mountain fastnesses, began to push their incursions
far to the southward. The entire country was engaged in hostilities.
Every occupation but that of warfare was suspended. The herdsman
was robbed of his flocks. The fertile fields were transformed into
a barren waste. On all sides were the mournful tokens of misery and
want; from palace and hut rose the moan of the famishing or the wail
for the dead. Intercourse between the neighboring cities, alienated
by hostility or fearful of marauders, ceased. The doubtful tenure of
authority, dependent upon the incessant changes of administration,
made it impossible for the Christians to ascertain to whom tribute
was rightfully due. and this confusion of interests often subjected
them to the injustice of double, and even treble, taxation. At no time
in the history of Spain, since the irruption of the Goths, had such
a condition of anarchy and social wretchedness prevailed; when the
inspiration of a few Syrian chieftains brought the existing chaos to an
end, by the introduction of a new ruler and the re-establishment of a
dynasty whose princes, the tyrants of Damascus, had hitherto reflected
little more than odium and derision on the Moslem name.
The history of Spain under the emirs presents a melancholy succession
of tragic events arising from antipathy of race, political ambition,
religious zeal, and private enmity. An extraordinary degree of
instability, misrule, distrust, and avarice characterized their
administration. The revolutions which constantly afflicted the
Khalifate of Damascus exercised no inconsiderable influence over
the viceregal capitals of Kairoan and Cordova. The Ommeyade princes
of Syria lived in constant apprehension of death by violence. The
methods by which they had arisen in many instances contributed to
their overthrow. The assassin of yesterday often became the victim of
to-day. The perpetration of every crime, the indulgence in every vice,
by the Successors of the Prophet, diminished the faith and loyalty of
their subjects and seriously affected the prestige and divine character
believed to attach to their office. The subordinates necessarily shared
the odium and ignominy of their superiors. The Emir of Spain labored
under a twofold disadvantage. He held under the Viceroy of Africa,
while the latter was appointed directly by the Khalif. This division
of authority and responsibility was not conducive to the interests of
good government, social order, or domestic tranquillity. The people of
the Peninsula, subject to the caprices of a double tyranny, could not
be expected to feel much reverence for the supreme potentate of their
government and religion thirteen hundred miles away. With the accession
of each ruler arose fresh pretexts for the exercise of every resource
of extortion. The rapacity of these officials rivalled in the ingenuity
of its devices and the value of its returns the exactions of the Roman
proconsuls. The methods by which the majority of them maintained their
power provoked universal execration. Under such political conditions,
loyalty, union, and commercial prosperity were impossible. The ancient
course of affairs--an order which had existed for three hundred
years--had been rudely interrupted. Even under favorable auspices the
foundation of a government and the reorganization of society would have
been tasks fraught with many perplexities and dangers. The Visigothic
empire had, it is true, been subdued, but its national spirit, its
religion, and its traditions remained. The changes of Moslem governors
were sudden and frequent. The average duration of an emir’s official
life was exactly twenty-seven months. It required the exertion of the
greatest wisdom, of the most enlightened statesmanship, to avert the
calamities which must necessarily result from the collision between a
heterogeneous populace subjected suddenly to the will of a still more
heterogeneous mass of foreigners; to reconcile the interests of adverse
factions; to appease the demands of wild barbarians unaccustomed to
be denied; to decide alike profound questions of policy and frivolous
disputes connected with the various gradations of ecclesiastical
dignity, of hereditary rank, of military distinction, and of social
precedence. The inflexibility of the Arab character, the assumed
superiority of the Arab race, the unquenchable fires of tribal hatred,
the necessity of maintaining the rights accorded under solemn treaties
to the vanquished, enhanced a hundred-fold the difficulties which
confronted the sovereign. As an inevitable consequence a chronic state
of disorder prevailed. The authority of the Khalifs of Damascus was in
fact but nominal, and was never invoked except to countenance revolt
or to assure the obedience of those who faltered in their loyalty to
the emirs, the actual rulers of Spain. But, despite these serious
impediments, the genius of the Arabian people advanced rapidly in the
path of civilization, while the dense and sluggish intellect of the
northern barbarians, who, in their origin, were not less ignorant,
remained stationary. It took Spain, under the Moslems, less than half
a century to reach a point in human progress which was not attained by
Italy under the popes in a thousand years. The capacity of the Arab
mind to absorb, to appropriate, to invent, to develop, to improve,
has no parallel in the annals of any race. The empire of the khalifs
included an even greater diversity of climate and nations than that
of Rome. The ties of universal brotherhood proclaimed by the Koran;
the connections demanded by the requirements of an extended commerce;
the intimate associations encouraged by the pilgrimage to Mecca,
awakened the curiosity and enlarged, in an equal degree, the minds
of the Moslems of Asia, Africa, and Europe. Yet more important than
all was the effect of the almost incessant hostilities waged against
the infidel. By its constantly varying events, its fascinations,
its thrilling excitements, its dangers, its victories, defeats, and
triumphs, war has a remarkable tendency to expand the intellectual
faculties, and thereby to advance the cause of truth and promote the
improvement of every branch of useful knowledge. The advantages derived
from travel, experience, and conquest the Moslems brought with them
into the Spanish Peninsula. Under the emirate, however, these were
constantly counteracted by the ferocious and indomitable character of
the Berbers. The latter did not forget the part they had taken in the
Conquest. It was one of their countrymen who had led the victorious
army. It was the irresistible onset of their cavalry which had pierced
the Gothic lines on the Guadalete. The rapidity of their movements,
the impetuosity of their attacks, had awed and subdued, in a few short
months, the populous states of a mighty empire. Scarcely had they begun
to enjoy the pleasures of victory before the greed of an hereditary
enemy of their race snatched from their hands the well-earned fruits of
their valor. Their commander was imprisoned, insulted, and disgraced.
Their plunder was seized. Those who evinced a desire for a sedentary
life were assigned to the bleak and sterile plains of La Mancha,
Aragon, and Galicia, while the Arabs of Syria and the Hedjaz divided
among themselves the glorious regions of the South, which tradition
had designated as the Elysian Fields of the ancients. The arrogant
disposition of these lords heaped upon their Berber vassals every
outrage which malice could devise or tyranny execute. The accident of
African extraction was sufficient to exclude the most accomplished and
capable soldier from an office of responsibility under the Khalifate of
Damascus. In Spain, as in Al-Maghreb, the fairest virgins of the Berber
camps were torn from the arms of their parents to replenish the harems
of the Orient. Under such circumstances, it is not strange that the
acute sensibilities of a proud and independent people should have been
deeply wounded by the infliction of every fresh indignity, and their
disaffection endanger the stability of the new government and imperil
the institutions of religion itself by fostering the violent spirit of
tribal animosity, that ominous spectre which constantly haunted with
its fearful presence the society of city and hamlet, and stalked grimly
and in menacing silence in the very shadow of the throne.
The moral and political aspect of the Western world coincided in many
particulars with that of Spain during the age of transition which
preceded the establishment of the Khalifate of Cordova. Of all the
states which had composed the vast fabric of the Roman Empire scarcely
one was at peace with its neighbors or exempt from the calamities
incident to religious discord and civil war. The scanty remains of art
and learning which had escaped the fury of the barbarians had taken
refuge in Constantinople, now the intellectual centre of Europe. The
noble productions of the ancients had, however, been cast aside with
contempt for the homilies of the Fathers, and arguments concerning
the miraculous virtues of images, together with daily riots and
chariot-races, engaged the attention and amused the leisure of the weak
and pusillanimous Byzantine, whose character, deformed by abject vices,
had long since forfeited all right to the honored name of Roman. The
turbulent populace of that great city, which virtually dictated the
edicts of its rulers, protected by its impregnable walls, had seen,
with craven indifference, its environs plundered and its sovereignty
defied by the powers of Persian, Goth, and Saracen. The genius and
energy of its founder had been supplanted by the superstitions and
cruelties of a succession of feeble tyrants, whose manifold crimes
were now, for a short interval, redeemed by the martial talents and
political virtues of Leo the Isaurian.
In Italy, the peace of society was disturbed by the iconoclastic heresy
and the disorders which accompanied the foundation of a republic,
commotions destined soon to provoke the interference of the Lombards
and the subsequent impolitic alliance with those perfidious barbarians.
The stern and uncompromising character of Gregory the Great had
established the Church upon a basis so solid that the efforts of all
its enemies have to this day been unable to prevail against it; and
the sagacity of this distinguished pontiff had vindicated the policy
of a system prompted by the inspiration of almost superhuman wisdom,
sanctified by the precepts of antiquity, strengthened by the enthusiasm
of its saints and martyrs, and confirmed by the prescription of
centuries.
No country in Europe during the eighth century exhibited such a
picture of unredeemed barbarism as Britain. The Romans had never been
able to more than temporarily establish their institutions in that
island. The legions with difficulty held in subjection a people whom
neither force nor the arts of persuasion could make amenable to the
benefits of civilized life. The cruel rites which characterized the
worship of the Druids had been abolished, but the elegant mythology
of Italy obtained no hold upon the minds of the degraded aborigines,
who welcomed with delight the savage ceremonies which were performed
around the altars of the Scandinavian Woden. Upon this uncongenial
soil the refining genius of Rome left no permanent traces of its
occupancy, no splendid memorials of its art and culture. The nature of
the transitory impressions emanating from the possession of Britain
by the masters of the world was disclosed by the crushing misfortunes
which befell the empire in the fifth century. Unable to sustain the
cares of government, hostile chieftains abandoned the island to all
the woes of anarchy, and partisan jealousy invoked the perilous aid of
the pirates of Germany, whose dominion was finally established only by
a war of extermination involving both ally and foe. The obscurity of
the British annals concerning the period under consideration, dense of
itself, is increased by the popular acceptance of myth and legend as
historic truth. The chroniclers of Western Europe, however, have made
us acquainted with the national character of the Saxons. We know that
in Britain the customs of the aborigines and the laws of the empire
were alike abrogated; that no worship prevailed but the basest form
of idolatry; that every vestige of Roman institutions was swept away;
that the religion whose maxims had been proclaimed by the eloquence
of Augustin was extirpated; and that the voice of faction which had
evoked this barbarian tempest was silenced in the convulsions which
preceded the foundation of the Saxon Heptarchy. The island, whose name
is now the most familiar one known to mankind, became more mysterious
than it had been in the remotest ages of antiquity; the country whose
constitution is now inseparably associated with the enjoyment of the
largest measure of freedom was then noted as the most advantageous
market for the purchase of slaves. In the cultivated society of
Constantinople, learned men believed that Britain was a region of
pestilence and horrors, whither, as to a place of eternal punishment,
the spirits of the Franks were ferried at midnight by a tribe of
weird fishermen, who, by reason of this service, were exempted from
certain burdens and enjoyed peculiar privileges. Among the luxurious
ecclesiastics of Gaul, the slaves imported from Britain were greatly
esteemed as being both cheap and serviceable; and the sacred office of
priest or abbot was not degraded by the ownership of hapless beings in
whose unnatural parents the feelings of humanity and the instincts of
affection had been subordinated to the debasing passion of avarice.
The general complexion of affairs in Gaul offered a striking analogy
to that prevailing in Spain at the time of the subversion of the
kingdom of the Visigoths. In one respect, however, a difference more
apparent than real existed; no monarch was deluded by the professed
allegiance, and was at the same time constantly threatened by
the treasonable plots of his subjects. A dynasty of puppet kings,
restricted to a limited territory, displayed amidst every temptation
to sensual indulgence the idle pomp of sovereignty. A race of hardy
warriors and statesmen, ignorant of letters, experienced in arms,
controlled, by the power of military enthusiasm and the superior
influence of diplomatic ability, the destinies of the Frankish nation.
With the exception of the clergy, whose attainments were at the best
but superficial, the people were plunged into the deepest ignorance.
In the regions of the North and East the influence of the idolatrous
Germans and Scandinavians had retarded the progress of Christianity.
Elsewhere, however, a mongrel religion, in which were incorporated the
mummeries of polytheistic worship, the degrading superstitions and
sanguinary rites of the Saxons, and the worst features of the Arian
heresy, prevailed. This debased form of faith, which recognized neither
the tolerance of Paganism nor the charity of the Gospel, satisfied
the spiritual requirements of a barbarian populace. In one province
idolatry was practised. In another, the principles of Christianity were
in the ascendant. Not infrequently these forms of worship existed side
by side; and within the sound of the cathedral bell the incense of
sacrifice rose from the altars of the Teutonic deities, or the haruspex
exercised his mysterious office, and, grovelling in the steaming vitals
of the newly slaughtered victim, read, in the shape of the liver or the
folds of the entrails, the signs of the future and the unerring decrees
of fate.
Wherever the authority of the Roman Pontiff prevailed, the inclination
to a monastic life predominated among all classes of society.
Virgins of the wealthiest families, warriors of the greatest renown,
alike voluntarily sought the retirement of the cloister, amidst
the congratulations of their relatives and the applause of their
companions. When the attractions of the world were too powerful to be
resisted, the proudest chieftains compromised with conscience either by
the donation of their serfs to the abodes consecrated to the service
of God, or by the ransom and purchase of slaves to increase the lordly
abbot’s imposing retinue. In the foundation of religious houses in
France there existed an emulation unknown to any other country embraced
in the spiritual domain of the Papacy. The fame and piety of the
patron of one of these establishments was in a direct proportion to
the number of recluses whom his riches or his influence was able to
assemble within its walls. As a consequence, no inconsiderable portion
of the population of France was devoted to a conventual life, and the
number of monks congregated in a single monastery was prodigious, in
many instances amounting to as many as eight hundred. The generosity
and devotion of the founder of a religious community were certain
to be rewarded with the coveted honor of canonization, and records
of the Gallic Church during the first half of the eighth century
include the names of more saints than any corresponding period in the
history of Latin Christianity. Liberality to these holy institutions
was esteemed not only a virtue of supreme excellence but a certain
proof of orthodoxy, and their vaults enclosed treasures whose value
was sedulously exaggerated by the vanity of the clergy and the
credulity of the rabble. The accounts of the enormous wealth of these
establishments, disseminated far and wide through the garrulity of
pilgrims and travellers, by stimulating the cupidity of the Arabs and
inciting them to crusade and colonization, produced a decided effect
upon the political fortunes and social organization of France, and
through France indirectly upon those of all Europe.
Rudeness, brutality, coarse licentiousness, affected sanctity, and
barbaric splendor were the prominent characteristics of the society
constituted by the nominal sovereigns and their courts, the mayors of
the palace and their retainers, and the lazy ecclesiastics who swarmed
in every portion of the dominions of the Merovingian princes. The will
of the most powerful noble was the law of the land. Apprehension of
intestine warfare and the mutual jealousy and unscrupulous ambition
of the feudal lords perpetually discouraged the industry of the
husbandman. A feeling of indifference pervaded the ranks of the
ignorant populace, stupidly content with the pleasures of a mere animal
existence. The priesthood, assiduous in the exactions of tithes,
evinced a marked repugnance to contribute pecuniary aid in times of
national emergency when even their own existence was imperilled.
Unnatural crimes, fratricide, incest, and nameless offences against
public decency were common. Concubinage was universally prevalent among
the wealthy. In a practice so fatal to the purity of domestic life
the clergy obtained a disgraceful pre-eminence, and in the cloistered
seclusion of convents and monasteries, those apparent seats of
austerity and devotion, were enacted with impunity scenes which shrank
from the publicity of cities and indicated the alarming and hopeless
extent of ecclesiastical depravity.
In the provinces of the South, formerly subject to the jurisdiction of
the Visigoths, a greater degree of intelligence and a more polished
intercourse existed, the inheritance of the ancient colonists who
had bequeathed to their posterity the traditions of Roman luxury
and Grecian culture. Here, upon the shores of the Mediterranean and
in the valley of the Rhone, the gifts of nature were better adapted
to progress in the arts; the climate was more propitious to the
intellectual development of the masses. While social equality was yet
strictly observed in the assemblies of the Teutons and the Franks,
the pride of aristocracy here first asserted its superior claims to
consideration. It was from this region, favored by its geographical
position, its commercial relations, and its sympathy with the
philosophical ideas and literary aspirations of the inhabitants of
Moslem Spain, that was to spread the refining influence of chivalry
and letters afterwards so prominently displayed in the courts of the
Albigensian princes.
The unsatisfactory nature of the information afforded by the defective
chronicles of the eighth century is a serious impediment to the
satisfactory elucidation of events whose paramount importance has been
recognized by every historian. A lamentable want of detail, and an
utter absence of philosophical discrimination, are the characteristic
traits of these illiterate annalists. Of the gradual unfolding of
national character; of the secret motives which actuated the rude
but dexterous statesmen of that epoch; of the incessant mutations of
public policy; of the silent but powerful revolutions effected by the
inexorable laws of nature and the failings of humanity, they tell us
next to nothing. And yet no period mentioned in history has been more
prolific of great events. No achievement of ancient or modern times
was perfected with such rapidity or produced such decided effects upon
the intellectual progress of the human race as the Mohammedan Conquest
of Spain. The valor of the idolater, Charles Martel, prepared the way
for the vast empire and boundless authority of Charlemagne. The zeal
of his orthodox successor assured the permanence and supremacy of the
Holy See. Upon the success or failure of the Moslem crusade hung, as in
a balance, the political fortunes of Europe and the religious destiny
of the world. The battle of Poitiers was not, as is generally asserted,
a contest between the champions of two hostile forms of faith, for the
army of the Franks was largely composed of Pagans, and the ranks of the
invaders were filled with Berbers, Jews, and infidels. Moslem zealots,
like those who had shared the bitter privations of the Prophet, who had
upheld his falling banner at Ohod, who had prevailed over fearful odds
commanded by the bravest generals of the Roman and Persian empires,
who had witnessed the capture of Damascus and Jerusalem, were rare
in that motley host of adventurers whose religion was frequently a
disguise assumed for the ignoble purpose of rapine. The fierce ardor
and invincible spirit of the original Mussulmans had departed. A
tithe of the fiery enthusiasm which had evoked the astonishment and
consternation of their early antagonists must have changed the fortunes
of that eventful day.
Upon the other hand, the Franks were not inspired with zeal for the
maintenance of any religious principle. Their fickle homage was paid to
Zernbock and Woden, the sanguinary gods of the German forests, or to
that weird priesthood which delivered its oracles from the cromlechs of
Brittany. The pressing requirements of the emergency, the prospect of
plunder and glory, had summoned the warriors of a hundred tribes from
the banks of the Danube to the limits of Scandinavia. So little were
these wild barbarians entitled to the appellation of Christians that
they were, even then, under the ban of ecclesiastical displeasure, and
had been loaded with anathemas for the sacrilegious use of the property
of the Church to avert the danger impending over Christendom. But
leaving out of consideration the motives which actuated the combatants,
there can be no question as to the decisive results of the battle of
Poitiers. It was one of the few great victories which, like conspicuous
landmarks in the pathway of human affairs, indicate the advancement
or the retardation of nations. The prospect of Mohammedan conquest had
long been the terror of Europe. The Pope trembled in the Vatican. The
pious devotee, as he prostrated himself before the image of his patron
saint, vowed an additional penance to ward off the calamity which
every day was expected to bring forth. Imagination and fear painted
the Saracens as a race of incarnate fiends, whose aspect was far more
frightful, whose atrocities were far more ruthless, than those of the
Huns who had been routed by Ætius four hundred years before on the
plains of Chalons. The lapse of twelve centuries has not sufficed to
dispel this superstitious dread, and the Saracen, as a monster and
a bugbear, still figures in the nursery tales and rhymes of Central
France.
The Spanish Emirate includes the most obscure epoch of Moslem annals.
Its events have been, for the most part, preserved only by tradition.
Its chronicles are chaotic, defective, and contradictory. Its dates are
confused. It abounds in anachronisms; in the confusion of localities;
in the multiplication of individuals under a variety of names. The
credulity and prejudice of annalists, few of whom were contemporaneous
with the occurrences they profess to describe, render their statements
suspicious or absolutely unworthy of belief. With such drawbacks
attainment to accuracy is manifestly impracticable, and a reasonable
degree of probability can alone be hoped for from the baffled and
perplexed historian.
Exactly a hundred and ten years had elapsed since Mohammed fled from
Mecca like a common malefactor, under sentence of execution by the
leaders of his tribe, with a reward of a thousand pieces of gold upon
his head, and Islam was regarded as the dream of a half-demented
enthusiast. Now the name of the Prophet was revered from the Indies to
the Atlantic. The new sect numbered its adherents by millions. Its
arms had invariably been victorious. Its energy had surmounted every
obstacle. The most venerated shrines of Christianity and the cradle of
that religion,--Antioch, Alexandria, Carthage, and Jerusalem,--places
associated with all that is dear to the followers of our Saviour, and
made sacred by miracle, legend, and tradition, were in its hands.
Rome and Constantinople, the remaining great centres of Christian
faith--the one destined to be attacked by the Moslems of Sicily, the
other now menaced by the Moslems of Spain--trembled for their safety.
Saracen fleets were already cruising in the eastern Mediterranean.
The Mussulman standard had been planted on the Loire, thirty-six
hundred miles distant from Mecca. In every country into which Islam
had penetrated, it had found faithful allies and adherents. Religious
indifference, public oppression, the burdens of feudalism, and the
evils of slavery paved the way for its acceptance. The Jews opened
the gates of cities. The leaders of depressed factions contributed to
the ruin of their countrymen with purse and sword. Vassals and slaves
apostatized by thousands. Most ominous of all, the test of spiritual
truth and inspiration invariably dependent, in the estimation of the
credulous, upon superiority in arms, was steadily on the side of the
infidel. It is not strange, therefore, that Christian Europe looked
with undisguised dismay upon the portentous advance of the Mussulman
power. It is a matter of some doubt whether the doctrines of Mohammed
could have obtained a permanent foothold in the frozen regions of
the North. The geographical distribution of religions is largely
determined by climate. Islam is essentially exotic. It has survived,
but never flourished, beyond the tropics. A learned historian has
advanced the hypothesis that it cannot exist in a latitude where the
olive does not grow, a statement which seems to be justified by the
experience of history. It is highly improbable that the dogmas and
customs of the Orient would have found, under a leaden sky and amidst
the chilling blasts of Holland and Germany, conditions propitious
to their propagation. Important modifications must have resulted,
and, with these modifications, religious and social revolution. The
steadiness and prowess of the Teutonic soldiery had forever assured
the safety of Europe from serious molestation by the princes of the
Hispano-Arab empire. The irregular and ill-concerted attacks, which
subsequently followed at long intervals, were easily repulsed. Whether
the world at large was profited by the victory of Charles Martel may,
in the light afforded by the brilliant results of Moslem civilization,
well be questioned. It is hardly possible to conjecture what effect
would have been produced upon the creeds and habits of the present age
by the triumph of the Saracen power, but, in the words of an eminent
writer, “the least of our evils had now been that we should have worn
turbans; combed our beards instead of shaving them; have beheld a more
magnificent architecture than the Grecian, while the public mind had
been bounded by the arts and literature of the Moorish University of
Cordova.”