THE RISE OF DON RODERICK.—HIS GOVERNMENT.
Woe to the ruler who founds his hope of sway on the weakness or
corruption of the people! The very measures taken by Witiza to perpetuate
his power ensured his downfall. While the whole nation, under his
licentious rule, was sinking into vice and effeminacy, and the arm of war
was unstrung, the youthful Roderick, son of Theodofredo, was training up
for action in the stern but wholesome school of adversity. He instructed
himself in the use of arms; became adroit and vigorous by varied
exercises; learned to despise all danger; and inured himself to hunger
and watchfulness, and the rigour of the seasons.
His merits and misfortunes procured him many friends among the Romans;
and when, being arrived at a fitting age, he undertook to revenge the
wrongs of his father and his kindred, a host of brave and hardy soldiers
flocked to his standard. With these he made his sudden appearance in
Spain. The friends of his house, and the disaffected of all classes,
hastened to join him; and he advanced rapidly, and without opposition,
through an unarmed and enervated land.
Witiza saw too late the evil he had brought upon himself. He made a hasty
levy, and took the field with a scantily equipped and undisciplined host,
but was easily routed and made prisoner, and the whole kingdom submitted
to Don Roderick.
The ancient city of Toledo, the royal residence of the Gothic kings, was
the scene of high festivity and solemn ceremonial on the coronation of
the victor. Whether he was elected to the throne according to the Gothic
usage, or seized it by the right of conquest, is a matter of dispute
among historians; but all agree that the nation submitted cheerfully to
his sway, and looked forward to prosperity and happiness under their
newly elevated monarch. His appearance and character seemed to justify
the anticipation. He was in the splendour of youth, and of a majestic
presence. His soul was bold and daring, and elevated by lofty desires.
He had a sagacity that penetrated the thoughts of men, and a magnificent
spirit that won all hearts. Such is the picture which ancient writers
give of Don Roderick, when, with all the stern and simple virtues
unimpaired which he had acquired in adversity and exile, and flushed with
the triumph of a pious revenge, he ascended the Gothic throne.
Prosperity, however, is the real touchstone of the human heart. No sooner
did Roderick find himself in possession of the crown, than the love of
power, and the jealousy of rule, were awakened in his breast. His first
measure was against Witiza, who was brought in chains into his presence.
Roderick beheld the captive monarch with an unpitying eye, remembering
only his wrongs and cruelties to his father. “Let the evils he has
inflicted on others be visited upon his own head,” said he: “as he did
unto Theodofredo, even so be it done unto him.” So the eyes of Witiza
were put out, and he was thrown into the same dungeon at Cordova in which
Theodofredo had languished. There he passed the brief remnant of his
days, in perpetual darkness, a prey to wretchedness and remorse.
Roderick now cast an uneasy and suspicious eye upon Evan and Siseburto,
the two sons of Witiza. Fearful lest they should foment some secret
rebellion, he banished them the kingdom. They took refuge in the Spanish
dominions in Africa, where they were received and harboured by Requila,
governor of Tangier, out of gratitude for favours which he had received
from their late father. There they remained, to brood over their fallen
fortunes, and to aid in working out the future woes of Spain.
Their uncle Oppas, bishop of Seville, who had been made co-partner, by
Witiza, in the arch-episcopal chair at Toledo, would have likewise
fallen under the suspicion of the king; but he was a man of consummate
art and vast exterior sanctity, and won upon the good graces of the
monarch. He was suffered, therefore, to retain his sacred office at
Seville; but the see of Toledo was given in charge to the venerable
Urbino; and the law of Witiza was revoked, that dispensed the clergy from
their vows of celibacy.
The jealousy of Roderick for the security of his crown was soon again
aroused, and his measures were prompt and severe. Having been informed
that the governors of certain castles and fortresses in Castile and
Andalusia had conspired against him, he caused them to be put to death,
and their strongholds to be demolished. He now went on to imitate the
pernicious policy of his predecessor; throwing down walls and towers,
disarming the people, and thus incapacitating them from rebellion. A few
cities were permitted to retain their fortifications, but these were
intrusted to Alcaydes, in whom he had especial confidence: the greater
part of the kingdom was left defenceless. The nobles, who had been roused
to temporary manhood during the recent stir of war, sunk back into the
inglorious state of inaction which had disgraced them during the reign of
Witiza, passing their time in feasting, and dancing to the sound of loose
and wanton minstrelsy.[4] It was scarcely possible to recognise, in these
idle wassailers and soft voluptuaries, the descendants of the stern and
frugal warriors of the frozen north; who had braved flood and mountain,
and heat and cold, and had battled their way to empire across half a
world in arms.
They surrounded their youthful monarch, it is true, with a blaze of
military pomp. Nothing could surpass the splendour of their arms, which
were embossed and enamelled, and enriched with gold and jewels and
curious devices; nothing could be more gallant and glorious than their
array—it was all plume and banner and silken pageantry, the gorgeous
trappings for tilt and tourney and courtly revel; but the iron soul of
war was wanting.
How rare it is to learn wisdom from the misfortunes of others! With the
fate of Witiza full before his eyes, Don Roderick indulged in the same
pernicious errors, and was doomed, in like manner, to prepare the way for
his own perdition.