The Historians' History of the World in Twenty-Five Volumes, Volume 08, Henry Smith Williams

 

 

.

THE HISTORIANS’ HISTORY OF THE WORLD

[ii]

---

[iii]

[iv]

---

[v]

THE HISTORIANS’
HISTORY
OF THE WORLD

A comprehensive narrative of the rise and development of nations
as recorded by over two thousand of the great writers of
all ages: edited, with the assistance of a distinguished
board of advisers and contributors,
by

HENRY SMITH WILLIAMS, LL.D.

IN TWENTY-FIVE VOLUMES

VOLUME VIII—PARTHIANS, SASSANIDS, AND ARABS
THE CRUSADES AND THE PAPACY

1904

[vi]

Copyright, 1904,
By HENRY SMITH WILLIAMS.

All rights reserved.

Press of J. J. Little & Co.
New York, U. S. A.

---

[vii]

Contributors, and Editorial Revisers.

[viii]

---

[ix]

CONTENTS

VOLUME VIII
PART XII. PARTHIANS, SASSANIDS, AND ARABS
	PAGE
Introductory Essay. The Scope and Influence of Arabic History. By Dr. Theodor Nöldeke	1
History in Outline of Parthians, Sassanids, and Arabs (250 B.C.-1375 A.D.)	25
CHAPTER I
The Parthian Empire (250 B.C.-228 A.D.)	47
Justin’s account of the Parthians, 47. Their customs, 48. Seleucus and Arsaces, 49. Wars with Rome, 51. Modern accounts of Parthia, 53. The Parthian empire, 53. Arsaces and the Arsacids, 54. Bactria and Parthia consolidate, 55. Conquests of Mithridates, 57. Media and Babylonia conquered, 58. Parthian “kingdoms,” 59. Scythian conquest of Bactria, 60. The Scythians ravage Parthia, 61. First conflict with Rome, 62. Orodes defeats the Romans, 63. Plutarch’s account of the battle of Carrhæ, 63. Phraates IV repels Mark Antony, 68. Anarchy in Parthia, 70. The Romans intervene, 72. The decay of Parthian greatness, 74. Persia conquers Parthia, 75.
CHAPTER II
The Empire of the Sassanids (228-750 A.D.)	76
Sassanian power, 77. Sapor fights Rome, 78. The war with Palmyra, 79. A new war with Rome, 81. Ardashir II to Bahram IV, 82. The rule of Yezdegerd I, 83. The Arabs aid in war with Rome, 84. War with the Hephthalites, 85. Kavadh I, 86. New conflict with Rome, 86. Exploits of Mundhir, 87. Chosroes the Just, 88. Chosroes attacks Rome, 88. Hormuzd IV, 91. Civil war, 91. Vices of Chosroes II, 93. Conflict with Heraclius; fall of Chosroes II, 94. Successors of Chosroes II, 95. Anarchy and chaos, 96. Arab incursions, 97. Arab conquest, 98.
CHAPTER III
Early History of the Arabs (ca. 2500 B.C.-622 A.D.)	100
Arab history before Mohammed, 105.[x]
CHAPTER IV
Mohammed (570-632 A.D.)	111
Mohammed ben Abdallah ben Abdul-Muttalib, 111. Religious unrest, 111. Mohammed’s life, 113. His marriage with Khadija, 113. Mohammed as a prophet, 115. Mohammed an outlaw, 116. The Hegira, 117. Battle of Bedr, 120. Battle of Ohod, 121. Expedition against the Jews, 123. Siege of Medina, extermination of the Jews, 123. Mohammed’s pilgrimage to Mecca, 125. Subjection of Mecca, 126. The victory of Honain and Autas, 128. The last years of Mohammed’s life, 130. Gibbon’s estimate of Mohammed and Mohammedanism, 132.
CHAPTER V
The Spread of Islam (632-661 A.D.)	145
Abu Bekr, first caliph after Mohammed, 145. The caliph Omar, 150. The conquest of Persia, 151. The Syrian conquest completed, 156. Egypt captured, 160. The alleged burning of the library, 163. Othman, the third caliph, 167. Ali, 170.
CHAPTER VI
The Omayyads (661-750 A.D.)	175
Foundation of the Omayyads, 175. Yazid made caliph, 176. Siege of Mecca, 177. Abdul-Malik, caliph, 179. Siege of Mecca, 180. The eastern caliphate, 184. Suleiman’s ambitions, 185. The last Omayyads, 186.
CHAPTER VII
The Arabs in Europe (711-961 A.D.)	191
The invasion of France, 198.
CHAPTER VIII
The Abbasids (750-1258 A.D.)	209
Founding of Baghdad, 209. Harun Ar-Rashid, 210. Al-Mamun and his successors, 211. Baghdad under the caliphs, 213. Gradual decline of Arabian dominion in the East, 215. The various religious sects, 220. The Seljuk Turks, 225. Arabs and Turks unite against the Christians, 227. Saladin and his successors against the crusaders, 228. The Mongols under Jenghiz Khan invade western Asia, 230.
CHAPTER IX
The Decline of the Moslems in Spain (961-1609 A.D.)	233
Almansor, 233. Decay of power, 235. End of the Omayyads, 238. Independent kingdoms, 239. The Almoravids, 240. Dynasty of the Almohads, 246. Battle of Las Navas de Tolosa, 247. The decline of Arab power, 248.[xi]
CHAPTER X
Arab Civilisation	260
The Koran, 260. Doctrine of Islamism, 265. The pilgrimage to Mecca, 267. The holy war, 270. Arab culture, 271. Commerce and industry, 273. Paper, compass, and gunpowder, 274. Influence of the Arabs on European civilisation, 276. Scholasticism, 277. Mathematical science, 278. Medicine, 279. Architecture, 281. Music, 282.
CHAPTER XI
Tribal Life of the Epic Period	284
CHAPTER XII
The Principles of Law in Islam	294
Brief Reference-List of Authorities by Chapters	305
PART XIII. THE CRUSADES AND THE PAPACY
BOOK I. THE CRUSADES
Introductory Essay. The Value of the Crusades in the Light of Modern History. By the Reverend William Denton, M.A.	311
History in Outline of the Crusades (1096-1291 A.D.)	314
CHAPTER I
Origin of the Crusades (306-1096 A.D.)	320
Early Christian pilgrimages, 322. Jerusalem under the Saracens, 324. Character of the pilgrims, 326. The Turks in power, 328. Peter the Hermit, 330. The appeal of the emperor Alexius, 331. Councils of Placentia and Clermont, 332. The frenzy of Europe, 334.
CHAPTER II
The First Crusade (1096-1147 A.D.)	338
Peter the Hermit and his rabble, 339. The leaders of the First Crusade, 340. Alexius compels homage, 342. Numbers of the crusaders, 343. The siege of Nicæa, 344. Battle of Dorylæum, 345. Principality of Edessa founded, 346. Siege of Antioch, 347. A typical miracle, 349. Jerusalem besieged, 351. The Arab account, 352. Godfrey elected king, 353. Results of the First Crusade, 356.[xii]
CHAPTER III
The Second Crusade (1147-1189 A.D.)	358
St. Bernard, 358. Disasters of the Germans, 361. The French failure, 362. The rise of Saladin, 364. Moslem accounts of the battle of Tiberias, 374. The fall of Jerusalem, 376.
CHAPTER IV
The Third Crusade (1189-1193 A.D.)	379
The Saladin tithe, 381. Barbarossa’s crusade and death, 382. The siege of Acre or Ptolemais, 383. Geoffrey de Vinsauf’s account of Acre, 383. Richard’s voyage, 386. The French sail to Acre, 387. Dissension between the French and English kings, 388. Review of the siege, 390. The crusaders move on Jerusalem, 392. The enterprise abandoned, 396. Vinsauf’s account of Richard at Joppa, 397. Peace between the kings, 402. End and review of the Third Crusade, 404. Death of Saladin; Arab eulogies, 407.
CHAPTER V
The Fourth to the Sixth Crusades (1195-1229 A.D.)	410
Pope Celestine III promotes a crusade, 410. The Fourth (or German) Crusade, 411. The Fifth Crusade, 413. Results of the Fifth Crusade, 417. The Children’s Crusade, 419. The Sixth Crusade, 422.
CHAPTER VI
The Last Crusades (1239-1314 A.D.)	431
Richard of Cornwall’s Crusade (the Seventh), 432. The Tatar Crevasse, 433. The crusade of St. Louis (the Eighth), 434. Battle of Mansura, 436. De Joinville’s account of the battle of Mansura, 437. Results of Mansura, 441. St. Louis a prisoner, 442. Moslem account of St. Louis’ capture, 443. The Christians quarrel among themselves, 448. History of Antioch, 449. Ravages of Bibars, 450. Second crusade and death of Louis IX, 450. Prince Edward leaves England, 451. Vain efforts of Gregory X, 452. Progress of the mamelukes, 453. Total loss of the Holy Land, 454. Fate of the military orders, 456. Knights of St. John, 456. The Templars in France, 457. In other countries, 458. Council at Vienne, 458. The order suppressed, 459. The Crusades in the West, 459. The Teutonic Crusade, 460. The attack on the Albigenses, 461. Western assaults on the Arabs, 463. Comparison of the two crusades, 466.
CHAPTER VII
Consequences of the Crusades (1096-1291 A.D.)	467
Moral effects, 468. Political effects, 469. Influence upon commerce, 471. Enrichment of cities, 472. Colonisation, 472. Influence on industry, 474. The masons organise, 475. Gothic architecture, 476. Sculpture and painting, 476. Herder’s opinion of the Crusades, 477. Gibbon on the results of the Crusades, 479.[xiii]
APPENDIX
Feudalism (800-1450 A.D.)	481
Bryce and Hegel on feudalism, 482. Commencement of the feudal régime, 483. Reciprocal obligations of vassal and lord, 484. Feudal justice, 485. Ecclesiastical feudalism, 487. The Church and the feudal army, 488. Serfs and villeins, 489. Anarchy and violence; frightful condition of the peasants and some happy results therefrom, 491. Geographic outlines of the kingdom of Germany, 494. The transition from feudalism to monarchy, 494. Progress in Germany, 495. Influence of gunpowder, 497. Monarchism in Italy, 497. In France, 498. In England, 499. The papacy and feudalism, 500. Hegel on the rise of mankind through feudalism, 500.
Brief Reference-List of Authorities by Chapters	502
BOOK II. THE PAPACY
History in Outline of the Papacy (42-1878 A.D.)	503
CHAPTER I
Origin and Rise of the Papacy (42-842 A.D.)	519
The papacy in connection with the Frankish Empire, 524. Gregory the Great, 531. Christian mythology, 534. Worship of the Virgin, 535. Angels and devils, 536. Martyrs and relics, 536. Sanctity of the clergy, 537. State after death, 538. Gregory’s successors, 539. Draper on the origin of iconoclasm, 544. Milman on iconoclasm, 545. The war of iconoclasm, 546. Constantine Copronymus, 548. Third Council of Constantinople, 549. The war on monasteries, 550. Helena and Irene, 552. Second Council of Nicæa, 552.
CHAPTER II
“The Night of the Papacy”—Charlemagne to Otto the Great (740-985 A.D.)	555
Independence of the Roman bishops, 556. The appeal to the Franks, 556. Charlemagne and the pope, 558. The donation from Constantine, 559. Charlemagne’s third and fourth entrances into Italy, 561. The realm of the popes, 562. The trial of the pope and the crowning of Charlemagne, 563. Papal ambition after Charlemagne, 565. The myth of the woman pope, 567. Rivalry of Nicholas and Photius, 569. Synod at Constantinople, 570. The false decretals, 571. Adrian II, 574. Pope Formosus, 577. Theodora in power, 579. The infamous Marozia, 581. Rebellion of Rome, 582. Pope John XII, 583. Trial of the pope, 583. Charles Kingsley on temporal power, 587.[xiv]
CHAPTER III
The High Noon of the Papacy (985-1305 A.D.)	589
The dream of Otto III, 590. The German popes, 591. The college of cardinals, 592. Milman on the mission of the papacy, 593. Simony, 596. Celibacy of the clergy, 596. Gregory’s synod at Rome, 597. Bryce on the consequences of the Concordat, 602. Rival claimants, 602. Adrian IV versus Barbarossa, 603. Adrian’s firmness, 605. Two rival popes, 606. Innocent III, 607. The influence of the crusades on papal power, 608. The autocracy of Innocent III, 610. Universal sway of the pope, 611. Milman’s estimate of Innocent III, 612. Frederick II at war with the papacy, 614. Council at Lyons, 616. Accession of Boniface VIII, 618. Philip the Fair overpowers the papacy, 618. Hallam on the climax of papal power, 620.
CHAPTER IV
From Exile to Supremacy (1305-1513 A.D.)	623
Clement V, 624. The fate of the Templars, 625. John XXII to Urban V, 626. The Great Schism of the West, 630. Relation of the national churches to the state, 632. Moral condition of the clergy, 633. The great councils of Pisa and Constance; John Huss, 634. Milman on Nicholas V and the fall of Constantinople, 640. Popes to 1503, 642. Alexander VI, the Borgia, 644. Estimates of Alexander VI, 645. Julius II, 647. Prevalence of secularism in the Church, 648.
Brief Reference-List of Authorities by Chapters	651

---

PART XII

THE HISTORY OF PARTHIANS,
SASSANIDS, AND ARABS

BASED CHIEFLY UPON THE FOLLOWING AUTHORITIES

ABDUL-LATIF, ABUL-FARAJ, ABULFEDA, MAX DUNCKER, I. GOLDZIHER,
A. VON GUTSCHMID, WILLIAM MUIR, TH. NÖLDEKE, L. A.
SÉDILLOT, L. VIARDOT, JULIUS WELLHAUSEN,
GUSTAV WEIL

TOGETHER WITH

A CHARACTERISATION OF THE SCOPE AND INFLUENCE
OF ARABIC HISTORY

BY

THEODOR NÖLDEKE

AN ESSAY ON
THE TRIBAL LIFE OF THE EPIC PERIOD

BY

JULIUS WELLHAUSEN

AND A STUDY OF
THE PRINCIPLES OF LAW IN ISLAM

BY

I. GOLDZIHER

WITH ADDITIONAL CITATIONS FROM

ARTEMIDORUS, BAILLY, BEN-HAZIL, THE HOLY BIBLE, DION CASSIUS, L. A.
SILVESTRE DE SACY, DIODORUS, R. DOZY, S. A. DUNHAM, EL-MAKIN,
ERATOSTHENES, EUSEBIUS OF CÆSAREA, EUTYCHIUS, E. GIBBON,
STANISLAS GUYARD, HAURÉAU, HERODOTUS, HUMBOLDT, JUSTIN,
HAJI KHALFA, IBN KHALDUN, KIESEWETTER, MAKRISI, AMMIANUS
MARCELLINUS, J. A. ST. MARTIN, H. H. MILMAN,
J. E. MONTUCLA, F. A. NEALE, S. OCKLEY, W.
G. PALGRAVE, PLINY, GIRAULT DE PRANGEY,
JOSEPH VON HAMMER-PURGSTALL,
IBN SAAD, SAMPIRO, W. C.
TAYLOR, GEORG WEBER,
JOSEPH WHITE

Copyright, 1904,
By HENRY SMITH WILLIAMS.

All rights reserved.

---

PARTHIANS, SASSANIDS, AND ARABS

[1]

THE SCOPE AND INFLUENCE OF ARABIC HISTORY

Written Specially for the Present Work

By Dr. TH. NÖLDEKE

Professor in the University of Strasburg, etc.

If there is a region in the world which constrains its inhabitants to adopt a particular mode of life, that country is Arabia and the regions that border it on the north, the Sinaitic peninsula and the Syrian and Mesopotamian deserts. The great majority of the dwellers in these parts are forced to lead a nomadic life by the fact that the spots in which agriculture is possible are comparatively rare, and the infrequent rains, which only extend over limited areas, provide pasture for their flocks now in one part and now in another, but never for any length of time. The whole character of the Bedouin is conditioned by this nomadic mode of life (full of hardships and privations, though not laborious) with its constant struggles with competitors for the prime necessaries of life. The inhabitants of the oases, who are permanently settled in favoured spots, differ from the Bedouins in many respects, but are nevertheless strongly influenced by Bedouin modes of life and thought. Throughout this vast area life runs its course in perpetual change, yet remains in essentials ever the same. If one tribe perishes, migrates elsewhere, or turns to agricultural pursuits somewhere in the vicinity of the desert, its place is taken by another, which lives exactly as it had lived. The course of history, however, has shown that intellectual forces were existent in this desert race which seem to be lacking in others living under precisely similar conditions, such as the Berbers of the Sahara.

ARABS PAST AND PRESENT

We have no certain knowledge of the relation in which the Semitic tribes of the desert, whom we first meet with in the Old Testament (Ishmaelites, Midianites, etc.), and who there appear as closely akin to the Israelites, stand to the Arabs of later times. As far as we can tell, however,[2] they resemble them exactly. The son of the desert likes to reap where he has not sown; he not only plunders the camels and smaller cattle of alien tribes of Bedouins, but he devours the cornfields of the peasants who dwell on the borders of the desert whenever he has a chance, or carries off the garnered fruits of their toil. Thus in old days the desert tribes on one occasion actually came across the Jordan into central Palestine and utterly despoiled the inhabitants, until the latter under the leadership of Gideon drove them forth and inflicted a severe humiliation upon them (Judges 6-8). Somewhat later a horde of Amalekite inhabitants of the Sinaitic peninsula invaded southern Judea and Philistia, but were severely chastised by David, who was living there in exile (1 Samuel xxx). Such tribes have often in like manner proved extremely troublesome to the agricultural population on the margin of the desert. But if the states to which these peasants belong will only put forth a certain amount of exertion in defence of their territory the danger is not serious; for at heart the Bedouins are not eminently brave. In many cases peasants who will protect their own property can successfully ward off these predatory incursions. The non-nomadic settlers in the interior of Arabia, in particular, seem invariably to have been more valiant than the nomadic tribes. The latter would find it hard to do without the produce of agriculture and date-palm culture, while the dwellers in the oases, if they desire to have any intercourse with other regions, are obliged to keep on a friendly footing with the Bedouins through whose haunts their trade routes lead. Hence treaties are concluded in the interests of both parties, and the true Arab is an observer of treaties.

By a lamentable process of events it has come to pass that the nomads have extended their domain considerably at the expense of the husbandman. Even in Palestine the Bedouin tent-dweller now pastures his camels in many spots where formerly the Israelite farmer sat under his own vine and his own fig-tree and tilled his land with ox and ass.

THE NAME OF ARAB

The real meaning of the name “Arab” seems to be “desert.” It is first met with, or so it seems, in varying forms in Assyrian inscriptions of the ninth century.[1] In the Old Testament it cannot be identified with certainty before the time of Jeremiah.[2] In the inscriptions of King Darius Hystaspes, Arabaya appears to mean the Mesopotamian, Syrian, and Sinaitic desert. Amongst the Greeks we meet with the terms “Arab, Arabia” first in Æschylus (Persians 316; Prom. 422), but the poet’s ideas of the situation of the country are altogether mythical. Herodotus, on the contrary, is fully conversant with it; he is specially interested in that district, populated by Arabs, that constitutes the connection between Palestine and Egypt which was of such importance to the Persian kingdom, and not to it alone. His contemporary, Nehemiah, is quite familiar with the name of “Arab” (Ch. 2, 19; 4, 7; 6, 16) and so is Xenophon. The latter uses the name “Arabia” of the Mesopotamian desert in particular (Anab. 1, 5, 1); and this very region is called “Arab” pure and simple by the later Syrians. The name has survived from that day to this, especially amongst the people themselves.[3] It has long stood for both the nationality and the language. It is true that even in times tolerably remote Arab was understood to mean more particularly Bedouin; as is the case even in Sabæan inscriptions. The latter are, however, more exactly distinguished from the settled inhabitants of the country by the use of the plural, in its old form A’rab, later more frequently Orban.

Many scholars assume that all civilised Semitic nations actually took their rise from Arabia and are, as Sprenger[3] phrases it “Bedouin deposits” (“abgelagerte Beduinen”). The question of whether, in the last resort, Arabia was the original home of the Semites or whether they migrated thither from Africa in primitive times is not affected by this assumption.[4] In any case the language of the Hebrews and Aramæans still bears traces of the fact that their forefathers were at one time a nomadic race, which (with regard to the former at least) is to some extent confirmed by Old Testament tradition. It is true that wherever we have any historic record the contrast between these civilised peoples and the dwellers in the desert is evident. But we can imagine that the same thing happened with them as we may observe repeatedly in Arab tribes of later days. They press forward, gradually in part and in part rapidly, out of Arabia proper. The Syrian and Mesopotamian deserts, barren as they seem to us, offer the nomads certain advantages over the regions to the south. The rainfall is somewhat more copious. The nomads come into closer contact with settled peoples, and much as the Bedouin (proud of his freedom and happy in his leisure) may look down upon the industrious peasant and even upon the artisan, yet the greater security and the certainty of obtaining daily food prompts him to take to husbandry in the region of verdure when opportunity offers. The process was sometimes accompanied by violence towards the earlier settlers, but it often came about peaceably. Thus one wave of Arabs slowly overtook another. The names which predominate in the older portions of the Old Testament (Ishmaelites, Midianites, etc.) soon fall into the background. The appearance of the name “Arab” may be in itself an indication of the arrival of fresh tribes in these regions.

THE ARABS AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS

In the fourth century B.C. we find the Arab tribe of the Nabatæans to the south of Palestine, and the same tribe soon afterwards formed a settled state which extended eastwards from the ancient territory of Israel as far as to Damascus, rose to a considerable height of civilisation, and maintained a position of lax dependence upon Rome until Trajan destroyed it in the year 106; certainly not to the real advantage of the empire. In the first century of our era we meet with princes and nobles with Arabic names in Edessa, Palmyra, Emesa, and Hatrá. The abundant store of inscriptions at Palmyra shows that the greater part of the population of this Aramaic-speaking trading city, encompassed on all sides by the desert, was of Arab origin. It seems that during the gradual decay of the Seleucid kingdom, Arabs in several cases acquired dominion over these districts, just as at a later period members of various Bedouin tribes rose to eminence in Syria and Mesopotamia, during the decadence of the caliphate dynasty. Thus numerous settled Arab tribes lived in many parts of Syria as Roman subjects. In process of time all these[4] Arabs who dwelt in towns or villages grew to be Aramæans; even before that they had always used the Aramaic language in their inscriptions—where they did not write in Greek—because Arabic was not then regarded as a suitable language for use in writing.

At this time two new names for the Arabs came into existence, “Saracens” and “Taits.” Ptolemy (5, 16) mentions Σαρακηνή as a district in the Sinaitic peninsula.[5] The inhabitants of this district, who are unknown to Arab tradition, must have made themselves notorious in the Roman provinces in their vicinity; we can hardly suppose by other means than predatory incursions by hindering the march of caravans or levying heavy tolls upon them. Thus in that region all Bedouins came to be called Saraceni (Σαρακηνοί), in Aramaic Sarkaje, usually with no very favourable meaning. We meet with the latter form in a dialogue concerning Fate, written about 210 A.D. by a pupil of Bardesanes.[6] The designation then became general; thus it occurs very frequently in Ammianus Marcellinus. The name “Saracen” continued to be used in the West in later times probably rather through the influence of literature than by oral tradition, and was applied to all Arabs, and even to all Moslems, without distinction.

In precisely the same fashion and at exactly the same time the designation “Taits” came to be used for all Arabs by the Syrians of Edessa and the inhabitants of Babylonia. Only, while we know nothing of a distinct tribe of Saracens, which must very early have ceased to exist as such, we have plentiful and trustworthy information concerning the Tai in Arab literature. Their principal seat was in northern Nejd, but they spread abroad in many directions. Even now their name has not wholly passed out of remembrance.[7] By degrees the Aramæans came to style all Arabs “Tayaye,” and the Persians adopted the name from them.[8] Amongst the latter it is pronounced Tadjik, Tazik, in its more ancient form (with the Persian suffix), and Tazi in the later form.[9] The Arabs themselves reckon the Tai among the tribes which were once settled in the south of the Arabian peninsula. We are probably right in connecting their appearance in the north with a fresh wave which carried quite a number of the tribes of south Arabia into the northern districts; a tribal migration of which Arab tradition has much to tell, and some of it authentic.

The Arabs were known at that period only as a wholly savage race. Ammianus says of them: “natio perniciosa” (14, 4, 7), “nec amici nobis unquam nec hostes optandi” (14, 4, 1). The whole description, which he gives from contemporary information (14, 4), is very instructive, though somewhat one-sided and exaggerated in certain particulars. When he says that the Saracens live upon flesh and milk, and that most of them are unacquainted with wheat or wine, the statement agrees with that in the not much later Syrian Vita of Simeon Stylites[10] that many “Taits” did not know what bread was, but lived entirely upon flesh. There can be no question that the northern Bedouins, the only ones the author had in mind, can seldom have had an[5] opportunity of procuring dates. Bread is an article of luxury in Arabia even at the present time. The Bedouins of the Sinaitic district, with whom S. Nilus (fifth century A.D.) had to do, were quite exceptionally barbarous.[11]

ARAB CIVILISATION

We have hitherto completely ignored the seats of higher civilisation which were to be found in ancient times in the peninsula of Arabia. As early as the second millennium B.C. southwest Arabia, the Yemen, the country of the Sabæans and Himyars, which was well adapted for agriculture on account of the regular rains of its tropical summer, had developed a civilisation which has left, in the ruins of huge buildings and numerous inscriptions, monuments which still excite our admiration. The Greeks and Romans were not without justification when they spoke of a εὐδαίμων Ἀραβία, Arabia Felix, though their ideas of the character and extent of this “rich”[12] country were for the most part tolerably vague.[13] But several passages in the Old Testament bear witness to the high repute of the glory and splendour of the Sabæans. This is particularly evident in the legend of the queen of Sheba’s visit to Solomon (1 Kings x, 1-10). Not the least part of the wealth of the Sabæans was due to their monopoly of the trade in certain fragrant substances, especially in the incense which in old times was used in immense quantities at sacrifices. These perfumes, especially incense, are mentioned in various passages of the Old Testament, together with gold and precious stones, as amongst the treasures of the Sabæans (1 Kings x, 2, 10; Jeremiah vi, 20; Ezekiel xxvii, 22; Isaiah lx, 6). These and other products were carried to the north by Sabæan caravans (cf. Isaiah lx, 6; Tobit vi, 16). In the inscriptions of northern Hijaz we now have documentary evidence to prove that the Sabæans established permanent trading-stations at a distance from their own country. At the height of their prosperity they must have exercised a civilising influence of no mean importance upon the rest of Arabia, especially upon those parts of the west which they traversed in their regular journeys. To them the Thamudæans, with whose buildings (known before only by the report of Arab writers) the labours of Doughty and Euting have made us acquainted, and the Nabatæans, who were closely connected with the Thamudæans, probably owed the first elements of their culture. Written characters, which came to the Sabæans from the north in very early days, were by them disseminated in every kind of transmutation over large portions of Arabia, as far as the neighbourhood of Damascus on the one hand and Abyssinia on the other. Nevertheless, take it all in all, the civilisation of the ancient Yemen bore little fruit for the world beyond. The countries about the Mediterranean received no intellectual stimulus worth speaking of from this remote region, nor did the old Semitic civilisation, nor Iran, receive more. And since the glory of the land of the Sabæans has departed its influence on other Arabs has become insignificant.

The decadence of the nation was probably due to various causes. It is certain that the Arab tradition which sees in it the effect of a single catastrophe—the[6] bursting of the dam at Marib, which was indispensable for regular irrigation—is far from being an adequate explanation. The bursting of the dam must itself have been the consequence of neglect on the part of a degenerate race. But there may well be some truth in the tradition, which connects the decline of this remarkable people, indirectly, at least, with the great migration of Yemenite tribes to the north. At that time—about the second century A.D.—a kind of retrograde movement seems to have set in throughout the civilisation of a large part of Arabia. At certain periods large numbers of Arabs had been able to write, at least in rude characters, as is sufficiently proved by numerous brief inscriptions; about the year 600 the art of writing in Arabia was the secret of the few. Even in Yemen tolerably trustworthy traditions of its palmy days survived only amongst individuals. The conquest of the country by the hated Abyssinians (525 A.D.) probably shattered the last remnants of national vigour, and the Persian conquest (about 570 A.D.) failed to quicken it afresh. It is true that the civilisation of Yemen was still superior to that of the rest of Arabia; for example, it carried on a fairly important manufacture of weapons and materials for garments. A dim consciousness still survived of great things that the country had wrought. But, since there were no historic records of such, the later Yemenites endeavoured to vindicate the fame of their forefathers by extravagant inventions and to show that they had done far greater deeds than were done by the Koreishites at the head of the Moslems.

Nevertheless the fact remains that the civilisation of the Sabæans need scarcely be taken into account in determining the place of Arabia in history. It counts for less than the inferior civilisation of other nations less remote from the main theatre of events. The principal scene of the old quarrel of East and West, which had presented itself so vividly to the eyes of the Greeks in the Persian wars, in the last century before Christ was transferred to Syria and the countries about the Euphrates and Tigris. The Arabs of the northern districts were drawn into the struggle of the Romans with the Parthians and Persians. They were always available for pillaging the enemy’s territory or harassing their compatriots on the other side. It was hardly possible for the great powers to rule the desert, and it would have been a somewhat thankless task; but they could influence the Bedouins strongly by various indirect methods. The Arab dynasties in the frontier districts were particularly useful for the purpose; they occupied a position of independence none too strict, and were invariably regarded with suspicion, but they could keep their savage kinsmen, with whom they were constantly in touch, far more effectually in check than regular imperial or royal officials could have done.

In this connection the Christian phylarchs of the tribe of Ghassan are worthy of special mention on the Roman side. Their capital was not far from Damascus and they played a somewhat important part in the events of the sixth century. On the Persian side there were for many years the vassal kings of the tribe of Lakhm, which dwelt in the important city of Hira, near the ancient Babylon. Both dynasties were respected and feared nearly as far as the confines of Arabia. Some scattered monarchies had likewise arisen in the interior of the country. In particular, we know of some sovereigns of a family of the Kinda tribe, whose home was at Hadramaut, far to the south; they ruled with vigour in various parts of Arabia, much like the princes of the Haïl dynasty at the present day.

But this sovereignty was of no long duration. Arabia is not suited to monarchy. The Bedouin has too strong a taste for independence; he is[7] averse even from peaceful enterprises for his own profit, if they call for discipline and subordination. A government must be equally wise and firm if it is to control the intractable nomad, with his loose ties to the soil. The Bedouin clings to his family, his tribe, his race. He yields willingly to the suggestions of the most distinguished and experienced chiefs of his tribe, but only so far as he pleases. There can be no question of a real government authority. This was the case even in the few cities of the interior. The decisions of the heads of families had considerable weight, but no coercive force. It might happen that individuals or families held aloof from a campaign undertaken on the initiative of the most distinguished men of the tribe, or turned back before its object was attained, nor could any one prevent them from so doing. They would perhaps have to endure scorn and mockery in prose and verse, and to that the true Arab is as sensitive as he is accessible to hyperbolical eulogy. In Arabia, then as now, peace never prevailed for any length of time. Sometimes there were feuds between large tribes or groups of tribes, sometimes quarrels within narrower limits. Camel-lifting and the use of pasture and wells belonging to another tribe constituted frequent grounds of quarrel. If blood were shed (which usually happened unintentionally) it cried aloud for blood. The Arab is not naturally blood-thirsty, but the passion of revenge for his slaughtered kin can lash him to furious blood-thirstiness. Fear of blood-revenge and the reflection that, in the peace which must ultimately be concluded, wergild must be paid to the tribe that has suffered most severely, in proportion to its losses, usually induce the combatants to be careful not to slay too many enemies, even in the stricken field. A murder or even a grievous injury may provoke long years of feud between families closely akin.

A powerful corrective to lawlessness is, however, supplied by the sway of custom and tradition. Authority (as has been intimated before) makes up to a great extent for the lack of political restraints. Authority of this character tells most strongly amongst a people of the aristocratic temper which the Arabs share with other nomadic races. An alien has no natural rights, but if any member of the tribe takes him under his protection he gains that of the whole tribe, and consequently security for his life and property.

THE KOREISH OF MECCA

By the year 600, and probably a considerable time before, the Koreish of Mecca had attained a curious and exceptional position. There, in an absolutely barren valley and near a spring of brackish water, a sanctuary stood. Some families of the Fihr clan, which belonged to the Bedouin tribe of Kinana, had settled round about it and established, under the name of Koreish, a lax commonwealth of the kind frequently found in Arabia. A considerable area in the immediate vicinity of their sanctuary may possibly have been respected as holy ground, in which no blood was to be shed, long before the Koreish took possession of it. Thus secured from harm, and held in high esteem as the guardians of the Kaaba (a small, square primitive house enclosed within a building open to the sky), the Koreish had turned their attention to commerce. They sent forth their caravans far and wide, as the Ishmaelites and Sabæans had done of old.[14] Koreishites travelled as merchants to Gaza, Jerusalem, and Damascus, to Hira on the[8] Euphrates, to Sana in Yemen, and even crossed the Red Sea to Abyssinia. By these means they not only acquired considerable wealth according to Arab standards, but what was of much greater value—a wider mental horizon than the Bedouins and the inhabitants of the oases, and a knowledge of men and affairs. Although they never quite attained a regular political organisation, yet Wellhausen is right when he says, “We note something of an aristocratic hereditary wisdom, as in the case of ancient Rome and Venice.”[15]

One consequence, it must be owned, of the practical temper and sober-mindedness of the Koreish was that they produced no poet of any note, while each and all of the poverty-stricken tribes of Bedouins about them had great achievements in this field to show. Better fed than the Bedouins (though by no means luxuriously) and not decimated by conflicts, they increased more rapidly in numbers, and in Arabia the numerical strength of a tribe has much to do with the esteem in which it is held. Their prosperity allowed them to exercise a liberal hospitality, and the hungry Bedouin appreciates highly the host who lets him for once eat his fill. We may well conjecture that it was the Koreish who established the connection between the annual pilgrimage to the mountain of Arafat, which lay just beyond their holy ground and the valley of Mina, with the temple of Mecca, which lay within it. Thus Mecca became the place where Arabs of the most diverse tribes met together from far and near every year. Even before the days of Islam the Koreish tribe was held in high esteem far and wide. But, however much we may study the causes which raised them above other Arabs, it still remains something of an enigma that this torrid and barren eyrie should at that time have brought forth so large a number of men, exclusive of the prophet, who, when their turn came to be placed in circumstances wholly unfamiliar, acquitted themselves magnificently as generals and statesmen. History sets us several problems of a similar nature in the sudden appearance of many notable men at the same spot.

At that time there were many survivals of barbarism among the inhabitants of central Arabia. For instance, the practice of burying newborn daughters alive was very general. The cost of feeding and bringing up girls in that inhospitable country was a burden unwillingly borne; probably the horrible manner in which they were got rid of had originally some connection with religious ideas. In remote antiquity the Semites, like many other nations, reckoned consanguinity only by the surest guarantee, that of a common mother. Among the Arabs and other peoples we find a relic of this view, otherwise abandoned long since, in the fact that a man might regard his stepmother as part of his inheritance and take her to wife. The father of the great Omar was the issue of such a marriage.

ARAB POETRY

Nevertheless we cannot but observe a distinct intellectual advance among the Arabs of the period we are now considering. This is specially marked in the efflorescence of poetry. It is of a purely national character and differs wholly from the poetry of northern Semitic races both in structure and substance. We know it only in its fully developed form, the oldest poems which have come down to us in tolerable preservation are of precisely[9] the same character as the later ones, but even they only date back to the first half of the sixth century at farthest. All Arabic poetry is rhymed, and rhyme predominates even in certain solemn modes of speech not subject to strict metrical rule, such as the apothegms of soothsayers. Now, seeing that this form of poetry, up to that time everywhere unknown, springs into prominence in Latin and Greek poems of a popular and devotional character after the fourth century, we are led to conjecture that there may be a connection of some sort with occidental poetry in the employment of this artistic method, which may very well have come into use among the Arabs about the same time. The point of common origin might be Palestine or Syria. Rhymed prose was probably the original form. The whole matter is, however, beyond proof.

The acceptance of this conjecture would not impair the originality of Arabic poetry. Among its great merits is the extremely fine feeling for rhythm which the entirely illiterate Arab authors of these poems and of the rhapsodies which were handed down orally display, by the careful observance of metres which carry out the principle of quantity far more strictly than those of Greek and Latin poetry. In substance these poems generally turn upon the ordinary subjects and interests of Bedouin life, though frequently idealising them; and loftier thoughts are not seldom conspicuous. Some famous poets who took long journeys, sometimes living among Christian surroundings at the courts of Arab vassal kings, sometimes going as far as to Yemen, prepared the way for Islam by disseminating ideas tinged with Christian thought. The spirit that animates the noble tales of Arab heroes and worthies which originated at this time points to an advance in culture. One singular institution appears to have had very advantageous results; during certain months all heathen Arabs observed a truce of God, in which arms were laid aside and no blood was shed. During this period friends and foes met together at certain times and places, originally, no doubt, to celebrate religious rites. By degrees, however, the latter receded into the background; negotiations were carried on, treaties concluded, the poets found an audience, merriment and brisk traffic were the order of the day. Even in the festival at Mecca, which retained more of its religious character, the varied programme ran its round.[16]

RELIGION OF THE ANCIENT ARABS

Concerning the religion of the ancient Arabs we have no great amount of knowledge. Wellhausen rightly entitles his admirable work on the subject Reste arabischen Heidenthums. Nevertheless we can make certain of some points of special importance with regard to our present consideration. The heathen Arabs possessed many holy places and many ceremonial rites, but very little earnest religious conviction. Excessively conservative by nature, the people observed the customs of their fathers without troubling their minds about their original significance, offered sacrifices to the gods (rude stone fetiches for the most part), and marched in procession round their sanctuaries, without counting much upon their aid or standing in any great awe of them; they cried to the dead, “Be not far from us,” without associating with the cry the idea of a future life which alone gave it meaning. In the north the savage king Mundhir ben Ma-assama (505-554) still sacrificed multitudes of Christian captives in honour of the goddess of the[10] planet Venus, even as the Israelites had done long ago in honour of their God.[17] The Arabs of the Sinaitic peninsula likewise offered human sacrifices to the planet Venus,[18] and we have other accounts of similar human sacrifices among the Arabs of the north. Possibly their close contact with Christians and the adherents of other superior religions may have to some extent revived the old Semitic religious zeal and fanaticism among the Arabs there. Farther south we find only faint traces of human sacrifice and we may regard it as practically extinct by the time of Mohammed.

In the meantime, however, the Arabs who had entered into closer relations with the Roman Empire, and the majority of those who occupied a like position towards Persia, had adopted at least a superficial form of Christianity. There were also some Christians in the interior of Arabia, while in the south Christianity had long since gained a considerable following. It had been persecuted for a while by a Jewish ruler; it was ultimately delivered by the Abyssinian conquest, but had made small progress since then. Christianity as practised by the Syrians, or, worse still, the Abyssinians, was not well adapted to win proselytes among the Arabs. If only the disciplined strength of Rome had acted upon these regions the case would probably have been different. There were Jews here and there in Arabia, and like the Jews of Abyssinia most of them seem not to have been genuine children of Israel, but native converts to Judaism. The Arab Jews, though possessed of no great theological knowledge, adhered strictly to their religion. The majority of Arabs was composed of heathen who had outgrown their religion. There were probably men who were conscious of the defects of this state of things, and recognised that the Christians had in many points an advantage over the heathen. We are told of certain persons from Mecca and its vicinity who adopted, and even preached, a monotheistic faith more or less Christian, but the details are very obscure. Certainly at the beginning of the seventh century not even the profoundest and acutest observer could have foreseen that in the heart of Arabia a religion was soon to arise and to result in the establishment of an Arab empire destined to give new shape to vast regions of the world, including the countries which had been the homes of the oldest civilisations.

MOHAMMED

The man whose energy gave clear and practical expression to the obscure impulse towards a purer religion arose amidst the worldly-wise Koreish. Flouted at first by his sober-minded fellow tribesmen, he gradually won the victory for his faith, and died the temporal and spiritual ruler of Arabia. To the very combination of qualities to some extent contradictory in his character, he owed his success with such a race as this. He firmly believed in his mission and was unscrupulous in his choice of means; he was a cataleptic visionary, and a great statesman; steadfast in his fundamental convictions and often weak and vacillating in details, he had great practical sagacity and was incapable of keen logical abstraction; he had a bias towards asceticism and a temperament strongly sensuous.

We not only have the fullest accounts of Mohammed’s whole character, but we possess his authentic work, the Koran, which he preached in the name of his God; and yet the extraordinary, attractive, and repulsive man remains in[11] many respects an enigma. He had come across much of Judaism and Christianity, but by verbal report only. For though it remains an open question whether Mohammed was actually ignorant of reading and writing, it is certain that he had neither read the Bible nor any other books. The persons from whom he gathered his information concerning the older monotheistic religions must have been somewhat unlettered folk. This holds good of his Christian instructors more particularly. Certain Judæo-Christian ideas, however, had early laid powerful hold upon him; resurrection, judgment, heaven and hell, strict monotheism and the vanity and culpability of all forms of idolatry. Feeling in himself the divine call, he uttered the thought that possessed him as the word of God; that which the prophets of Israel had done in exceptional cases became with him the set form of his teaching. We may be but ill pleased with the grossness of imagination, the lack of logic, the undeniable poverty of thought, and much besides in the Koran, but this was not the effect it wrought upon his hearers, especially when once their attention had been riveted. It was all new to them, they were thrilled with terror and delight by those gross representations of hell and heaven, to these naïve people the weakness of the reasoning was not apparent, while the strenuousness of assertion took full effect. Moreover they heard only scattered fragments at a time. The revelation of the Koran was accomplished gradually, it extended over a period of more than twenty years, and thus the monotony that repels us was not realised.

But, as has already been said, Mohammed met with small success in his native town, although he was joined by some of the best and most earnest-minded men, like Saad ben Abi Wakkas and Omar. It was not until he took a step unprecedented among the Arabs, and, abandoning his own tribe, migrated with his handful of Meccan followers to dwell among the inhabitants of Yathreb, that he gained a firm footing. The latter, palm-dressers and husbandmen, were a vigorous race, but not intellectually equal to the Koreish. They had given proof of their valour chiefly by perpetual civil broils between the two clans of which they consisted. Through their Jewish neighbours they were at least superficially acquainted with many of the religious ideas with which Mohammed was occupied. The prophet soon gained a large following among them. He established peace within their borders, they recognised him (though not without some exceptions) as their leader, and together with the companions of his wanderings constituted at first the bulk and afterwards the flower of his army.

Mohammed conquered the Meccans mainly by paralysing their caravan trade. When, in the eighth year after his departure from his native town, he made his triumphal entry into it once more, it needed only one great encounter with certain Bedouin tribes to bring the whole of Arabia to his feet and to his faith. If the Bedouins had concluded binding alliances against him in defence of the religious usages of their forefathers and (what was still more important to them) their own independence, he would have laboured in vain; but the inability of the pure Arab to unite for common action and act under discipline, even for the attainment of great ends, made it possible for him to bring one tribe after another over to his side by force or friendly means. He even contrived to turn to practical account the old connection between his family and the tent-dwelling Choza’a in the neighbourhood of Mecca. He retained old customs wherever it was possible so to do, instinctively rather than by deliberate intention. Thus even the greater part of the heathen worship of Mecca was adapted in externals to monotheism and incorporated bona fide into Islam. The first important[12] successes, especially the battle of Bedr (a great battle according to Arab notions), in which the men of Mecca lost about seventy dead and seventy wounded, made a deep and immediate impression: success is the test of proselytisers. The costly presents which Mohammed gave out of his spoils to such distinguished men as had not at once become converts at heart also wrought effectively; in most cases a genuine conversion followed in time. One fact (among others), by which we can estimate the striking impression the prophet produced upon the Arabs, is that as each tribe submitted or adopted his religion it renounced the right of retaliation for the blood shed in the struggle. Under other circumstances this renunciation of blood-revenge, or of wergild at least, would have seemed to the Arab the lowest depth of humiliation. But hard as it might be for the Arabs in general to acknowledge the prophet as their lord, there was at that time no pagan who would have fought in earnest for his religion. At the utmost, an old woman here and there raised a clamour when Mohammed destroyed her idols. Compare this with the fashion in which other Semites fought for their faith, in which the Arabs themselves afterwards fought for Islam. Hence, it is evident that, as has been said, the Arabs of that period had outgrown their religion.

SUCCESSORS OF MOHAMMED

But Mohammed was scarcely dead (632) before the existence of his religion and his empire was again called in question. He had left no instructions as to how the government was to be carried on after his death. A ruler was indeed promptly set up to succeed him. Yathreb, now called Medinat an nabi (the city of the prophet), or merely Medina (the city), was the capital as before, but the simple-minded proposal of the Medinese that they should have one sovereign and the people of Mecca another was rejected with decision by the latter. Abu-Bekr, Mohammed’s most intimate friend, and the father of his favourite wife, became his successor or vicegerent (khalifa, caliph). This is another proof of the high esteem the Koreish enjoyed; for it was a matter of common knowledge that the Arabs would never submit to a non-Koreishite.

For a while, however, most of them displayed but little inclination to remain subjects of the new ecclesiastical state. The utmost concession they would make was to profess their willingness to continue to perform the salat[19] five times a day, but they would henceforth no longer submit to pay an annual quota of their cattle or dates in taxes. Nearly all the old friends of the prophet, even Omar, who now wielded the greatest authority next to the caliph, despaired of subduing the Arabs again. And here we recognise once more the faith that moves mountains in fullest and most effective action. Abu-Bekr was not a man of lofty intellect, but he was firmly convinced that what Mohammed had preached was pure truth, that his orders must be obeyed absolutely, and that God would then give his religion the victory. And the event proved him right. He even insisted on weakening the army of which he had such sore need by despatching a body of troops for an expedition to the north which was by no means urgently necessary, merely because Mohammed had given orders for it, not foreseeing his own death. But otherwise the difficult task of once more subjugating the Arabs was[13] prosecuted with the utmost vigour. Their inability to combine voluntarily for any great object was more patent than ever. Their scattered forces could not withstand a foe united under a single command and with a definite aim in view. The separate tribes were speedily subdued, in most cases without recourse to the strong arm. The inhabitants of the district of Yamama offered frantic resistance; they were tillers of the soil and followers of Maslama (called by the Mohammedans in scorn Musailima, or “little Maslama”), who had set himself up as an opposition prophet in Mohammed’s later years. They fought for their settled homes and their faith, and the battle against Maslama was far more sanguinary than any previous conflict.

The second conquest of Arabia could scarcely have been achieved had not the Koreish stood by Abu-Bekr to a man. The leaders, who for years had striven against the prophet in the stricken field and lost their nearest kin in the struggle, had begun to realise (some of them before the taking of Mecca and the majority directly after) that they would gain enormously in power and consequence by the supremacy of a Koreishite. Mohammed’s marvellous success had made most of them to a certain extent believers. Several of those who had been his most zealous opponents afterwards fell or were severely wounded as champions of his religion. The commander who bore the brunt of the battle for the subjugation of the rebel Arabs, displaying an equal measure of sagacity and energy, was a Koreishite, Khalid ben al-Walid, the same who had been mainly responsible for the victory of the Koreish over the hosts of Mohammed at Mount Ohod, close by Medina, eight years before.

MOSLEM CONQUESTS

Arabia was hardly reconquered before the great invasion of other countries began. The prophet himself had set on foot some enterprises against Syria, but without any particular result. The great thing now to be accomplished was to transform the Arab hordes from recalcitrant subjects into joyful warriors of God by the twofold prospect of earthly spoil and heavenly rewards. Here we recognise the hand of Omar, to whom the sovereignty passed directly on the death of Abu-Bekr soon after. The wars of conquest which he inaugurated were crowned with brilliant success. It is worth while to consider the subject briefly in detail.

Troublesome enemies as the Arab tribes had often proved to the subjects of the Roman and Persian empires, no one had ever dreamed that they could constitute a menace to either. It is true that when the Moslem inroads began, the districts first affected were in a sorry plight. The frequent wars between the Romans and Persians had sorely enfeebled both empires, and this was more particularly the case with the last great war, which had lasted from 607 to 628. Large areas of Roman territory, especially in Palestine, Syria, and Egypt, had been frightfully ravaged and occupied for years by the Persians. The valiant and wily emperor Heraclius, however, succeeded in turning the tide of fortune, and ultimately dictated terms of peace to the Persians on their own soil. After that the Persian empire had been torn asunder by quarrels over the succession. Both empires had lost the Arab outpost they once possessed. The Persians had annihilated the Roman vassal kingdom of the Ghassanids, and their own subject dynasty in Hira (which had latterly adopted the Christian faith) had been dethroned by King Chosroes II. The folly of this was soon apparent. The Bedouins[14] of the Shaiban tribe utterly routed the royal armies of Persia at Ibu Kar on the frontiers of Babylonia, probably at the very time when the king’s forces were pursuing their victorious progress through the distant west. It was not a great battle, and probably its only direct consequence was that the unwarlike peasants of neighbouring districts were pillaged by the Bedouins; but a victory over an army composed in part of regular troops gave the Arabs confidence. This very Shaiban tribe distinguished itself in the first Moslem advance into Persian territory.

Nevertheless there is much that remains enigmatical in the immense success that attended the Moslems. Their armies were not very large. The emperor Heraclius was an able man, with all the prestige of victory behind him. When the great struggle of Moslem and Persian began, the civil wars of the empire were over, and it had a powerful leader—not indeed in Yezdegerd, its youthful monarch, but in the mighty prince Rustem, who had procured the crown for him. The great financial straits to which both empires were unquestionably reduced must have had its effect upon the number and efficiency of their troops, but that they were still good for something is clear from the fact that both the decisive battle on the river Yarmuk (August, 636) in which the Romans were defeated, and that of Kadisiya (end of 636 or beginning of 637) in which a like fate waited on the Persian arms, lasted for several days. The resistance offered must have been very obstinate. The Roman and Persian armies may have included irregular troops of various kinds, but they certainly consisted largely of disciplined soldiers under experienced officers. The Persians brought elephants into the field, as well as their dreaded mounted cuirassiers. Among the Arabs there was no purely military order of battle; they fought in the order of their clans and tribes. This, though it probably insured a strong feeling of comradeship, was by no means an adequate equivalent for regular military units. Freiherr von Kremer[20] rightly sees in the salat a substitute, to some extent, for military drill. In that ceremony the Arabs, hitherto wholly unaccustomed to discipline, were obliged en masse to repeat the formulæ with strict exactitude after their leader and to copy every one of his movements, and any man who was unable to perform the salat with the congregation was none the less bound to strict compliance with the form of prayer in which he had been instructed. But the main factor was the powerful corporate feeling of the Moslem, the ever increasing enthusiasm for the faith even in those who had at first been indifferent, and the firm conviction that the warriors for the holy cause, though death in the field would prevent them from taking a share in the spoils of victory on earth, would yet partake of the most delightful of terrestrial joys in heaven. Thus the masterless Arabs, who, for all their turn for boasting, had but little stomach for heroic deeds, were transformed into the irresistible warriors of Allah. It was the highest triumph of Semitic religious zeal, a manifestation on a vast scale that among the Arabs the sense of religion had only slumbered, to awaken when occasion arose with true Semitic fury. The same thing has since come to pass again and again on a smaller scale.

For the rest, so far as we can tell, the Arab tribes were not all alike concerned in these wars of conquest. The great camel-breeding tribes of the highlands of the interior, in particular, seem to have taken a much smaller share in them than the tribes of the northern districts of Yemen. It was a point of the utmost importance that the supreme command was almost[15] throughout in the hands of men of the Koreish, who at that time proved themselves a race of born rulers. They led Islam from victory to victory, proving themselves good Moslems on the whole, but without renouncing their worldly wisdom. Above all we are constrained to admire the skill, caution, and boldness with which, from his headquarters at Medina, Omar directed the campaigns and the rudiments of reorganisation in conquered countries.

This unpolished and rigidly orthodox man, who lived with the utmost Arab simplicity while an incalculable revenue was flowing into the treasury of the empire, proved one of the greatest and wisest of sovereigns. His injunction that the Arabs should acquire no landed property in the conquered countries, but should everywhere constitute a military caste in the pay of the state, was grandly conceived, but proved impracticable in the long run. Some of the Christian Arabs at first fought against the Moslem, but without any very great zeal. The majority of them soon exchanged a Christianity that had never gone very deep for the national religion. The great tribe of the Taghlib in the Mesopotamian desert was almost the only one in which Christianity retained its ascendency for any length of time, but it nevertheless fully participated in the fortunes of the Moslem empire, and even there the older faith gradually passed away, as it seems to have done among all Arabs of pure blood.

The victories of the Moslems under Omar were continued under his successor Othman. Syria, Mesopotamia, Babylonia,[21] Assyria, the greater part of Iran proper, Egypt, and some more of the northern parts of Africa were already conquered. The inhabitants of the Roman provinces had almost everywhere submitted to the conquerors without a struggle; in some cases they had even made overtures to them. The deplorable Christological disputes contributed largely to this result: the bulk of the Syrians and Copts were Monophysites and were consequently persecuted in many ways by the adherents of the Council of Chalcedon, who had gained the ascendency at Constantinople. Moreover in other respects the Roman government of the period was not qualified to inspire its Semitic and Egyptian subjects with any great devotion. The rule of the Arabs, though severe, at first was just, and above all they scrupulously observed all treaties whatsoever concluded with them. And the inhabitants of those countries were accustomed to subjection. It is, however, unlikely that they did the victors much positive service beyond occasionally acting as spies, and we must not lay too much stress upon the subjugation of what was on the whole an unwarlike race. Even in Iran, where Islam was confronted by far stronger opposition on national and religious grounds, the bulk of the population, especially in rural districts, offered at most a desultory resistance, while the victors had still many a battle to fight with the forces of the king and the nobles.

CIVIL WARS AMONG THE MOSLEMS

This career of conquest was interrupted by the great civil wars. The Arabs knew of nothing between entire liberty and absolute monarchy. The latter was the form which the caliphate first took, but it was universally assumed that the ruler was bound to abide strictly by the laws of religion.[16] When Othman, grown old and feeble, was led by excessive nepotism and other causes into a breach of the latter, the result was a rebellion, in which he ultimately perished (656). The murder was followed by years of civil broils, and some decades later the whole thing was enacted afresh. The war was waged under religious pretexts, and to some extent from religious motives; but it was in the main a struggle for sovereignty between various members of the Koreish. Tribal animosities old and new were brought into play, and induced the tribes to throw in their lot with one or other of the leading parties. The outcome of the two great civil wars was that in each case the ablest man placed himself at the head of the empire; the first to do so, after the murder of Ali, Mohammed’s son-in-law, being the Omayyad Moawiya, son of Abu Sufyan, the leader of the heathen of Mecca against Mohammed. In his reign Damascus, where he had lived as governor for many years before, became the capital in place of Medina. The victor in the second instance was Abd al-Melik, of another branch of the Omayyad family. They were both men of great capacity but essentially worldly-minded. One of the prophet’s grandsons, a son of Ali, had made his peace, while another, Husain by name, fell in a foolish attempt at rebellion (680); though he was thenceforth regarded as a martyr, and much blood was shed to avenge his death on the rulers de facto. The pious stood aloof, sorrowful or indignant, but the sovereignty remained in the hands of the Omayyads. To Europe these civil wars were nothing short of salvation. Had they not checked the career of Arab conquest, Islam might even then have subjugated Asia Minor, the Balkan peninsula, and the whole of Spain, and spread beyond it to Gaul and remoter lands.

The Arabs of that period knew how to conquer and to hold fast what they had won; for organisation they had less aptitude. Wherever they could they left administration, and taxation more especially, as they found it. At first the register of taxes was kept in Greek in the former dominions of Rome, and in Persian in those of Persia; and not until after more than half a century did the Arabic language become predominant in official book-keeping. The Omayyads had gained the mastery by the loyalty of the Arabs of Syria; they were tied to Syria, and the great tracts of territory to the east were hard to rule from thence. Moreover the Moslems of Babylonia, in many respects a more important province, were on the whole hostile to them. And, what was worse, the old lack of discipline among the Arabs had manifested itself strongly in a new form. Instead of small clans being at feud with one another, as had usually been the case in former days, they had ranged themselves in large and mutually hostile groups. One of these was composed of the Arabs of Yemen (real or reputed), two others of the tribes which claimed descent from Ishmael, the Mudhar and Rabia. If a caliph or a caliph’s vicegerent sided with the Yemen he had the Mudhar against him; if he favoured the Rabia the Mudhar were likewise hostile, etc. In the remoter provinces the hostile Arabs sometimes waged regular wars with one another on their own account. To add to this, there were risings of fanatics of various kinds. None but the ablest of the Omayyads (and on the whole they were an able dynasty) could maintain even tolerable order in the vast empire which extended its borders farther and farther when once the civil wars were over. The brief reign of a weakling or a libertine was enough to spoil everything. The purely Arab empire lacked the elements of stability.

Meanwhile, however, great masses of the conquered peoples had gone over to Islam. Temporal advantages on the one hand, and on the other[17] the suitability of this coarse-grained religion to the Semites, and probably to the less educated Egyptians too, led steadily to the abandonment of a Christianity which in these parts was but little superior to Islam. But in Iran also the new religion soon made great advances on its own merits, though in some places (it must be admitted) very much at the expense of the purity of its pristine character. The national pride of the Arabs could not endure the practical application of the theoretical precept of Islam that all believers should be on an absolutely equal footing. The new converts remained Moslems of the second class, and, in certain districts at least, they felt the distinction bitterly. Even at the time of the second great civil war these so-called “clients” (mawali) had on one occasion played a prominent part, though only as the tools of an ambitious Arab.

The action of a “client” population of this sort was fraught with far greater consequences when another Koreishite family—the Abbasids, descendants of an uncle of Mohammed—rose up against the Omayyads. One of their great emissaries placed himself at the head of the Moslem natives of eastern Persia (Khorasan) and by the help of these Iranians the Abbasids secured the throne (750). The change must be regarded as in great measure a strong reaction of the Persian element against the Arab. The long succession of great oriental empires had been interrupted by an empire purely Arab, and the sequence was now renewed. The seat of government was once more transferred to Babylonia; Baghdad took the place of Babylon and Ctesiphon. The great offices of state were already largely filled by persons of other than Arab descent. The old Arab pride of birth was outraged by the fact that no weight was now attached to the consideration of whether the mother of the ruler had been a free woman or a slave, and that thus the Arab strain of the reigning dynasty became more and more interfused with foreign blood as time went on. A second Persian reaction is signalised by the victory won, after a protracted struggle, by the caliph Mamun, the son of a Persian woman, over his brother Amin, whose mother was of the stock of the Abbasids (813). Mamun’s troops were nearly all of them Persians. Their leader, the Persian Tahir, founded the first semi-independent sovereignty on Iranian soil. The forms of government remained Arab to a great extent, and Arabic likewise remained the official language, but genuine Arabdom receded more and more into the background. Above all, professional troops recruited from the peoples of the East, or even of the far West, had almost wholly superseded the Arab levies.

The process of Arabisation went on apace, in the north Semitic countries, Egypt, and even in great tracts of the “Occident” (Maghreb),[22] but this Arab-speaking population, with its profession of Islam and its preponderance of non-Arabic elements, differed widely in thought and feeling from the Arabs of pure blood, who from that time forward were represented (much as they were before the days of Islam) almost entirely by the Bedouins and dwellers in the oases of Arabia and a few places in Africa. The great historic rôle of the pure Arab was played out. But this neo-Arabic nationality gave more or less of the same character to all Islamite countries. This holds good in great measure of Iran and the countries that bordered on it to the northeast, south and southeast, in so far as they fell under the influence of the Arab religion.[23][18] Nevertheless the eastern provinces of the caliphate no more adopted the Arab tongue (which gained the mastery in the principal countries of the western half and even in a great part of the Maghreb) than the eastern half of the Roman Empire had adopted the Latin tongue at the time that the west was almost completely Romanised. The Arab tongue exercised a profound influence none the less upon the Persians and all such nations as drew their culture from Persia. It was not for nothing that even in the last-named country Arabic was long the language of government, religion, erudition, and poetry, and so remained to some extent even after the native language had reasserted itself. Persian (and Hindustani, Kurdish, etc., likewise) had borrowed largely from Arabic, especially in the department of abstract terms—a thing we should not have expected in view of the antiquity of Persian civilisation and the newness of that of Arabia. The influence of Arabic is apparent even in the remotest branches of modern Persian literature, just as all Teutonic languages bear traces of the profound influence of Latin, which formerly occupied a position in Europe analogous in many respects to that of Arabic in Islamite countries.

INFLUENCE OF PERSIA ON THE MOSLEMS

But if the Arab spirit modified the spirit of Persia in many ways, the converse action was no less strong, possibly stronger. Many political institutions, the forms of polite society, nay, of town life as a whole, luxury, art, and even the fashion of dress, came to the Arabs from Persia. In the Omayyad period Arabic poetry remains in essentials true to the methods of the old heathen Bedouin poets; though side by side with them—and more particularly in the works of the best poets—we mark the gradual growth of a more elegant style, suited to the more cultivated tastes of the towns, and even of a courtly school of poetry. Even in later times, however, the methods of the elder poets found many imitators. But after the Abbasid period the writers of Arabic poems, taken as a whole, were no longer men of pure Arab descent; many were freedmen or of humble origin and Persian or Aramaic nationality. Thus during the Moslem period even the native poets of Persia began by writing in Arabic, and hence the rising school of Persian poetry adhered closely to the traditions of the Arabic school, both in metre and all points of structure, and in subject-matter and verbal expression. Unhappily it showed itself equally ready to imitate the artificiality into which Arabic poetry had sunk at that period. It is true, indeed, that from the outset Persian poetry displayed certain distinctive features, and that its noblest achievement, the national epic, is, broadly speaking, original, though even there Arabic influence is potent in the details.

The lustre of Arab culture, especially as displayed in the large cities of Babylonia, the central province, arose from a liberal intermixture of Persian and Arab elements. In some of these cities Persian was actually spoken by the bulk of the population, at least in the early centuries of Islamism. The influence of Byzantine civilisation on that of Arabia, though far slighter, should not be overlooked. For centuries the upper classes of Babylonia, luxurious and often frivolous as they were, maintained a high level of intellectual activity. The gift of expressing oneself in elegant Arabic with Persian charm and Persian wit was held in the highest esteem. Similar centres of superior culture existed in other Arabic-speaking countries right across to Spain, and for a time even in Sicily. Through all the wide domains of[19] Islam men travelled much, partly to complete their education and acquire the polish of the man of the world, partly for pure love of travel and thirst of adventure. Public and private societies of beaux-esprits and scholars existed in every town of any importance. A brisk trade by land and sea did much to insure the rapid interchange of commodities between regions the most remote, even such as lay far beyond the pale of Islamism, and the result of trade was the accumulation of vast wealth in the great cities. Thither also flowed the taxes levied per fas et nefas, upon the inhabitants of the plains. Of course there was no lack of misery in the great cities of the Arab world, any more than in those of Europe and America at the present day.

ARAB RECORDS AND TRADITIONS

The Moslems very early began to hand down biographical records of the prophet, at first by oral, but in the main authentic tradition. More important still to the whole Moslem world was the transmission and collection of precepts covering the whole of life, which pretended to be preserved in the exact form in which they had been uttered by the prophet or made current by his act.[24] It is of the utmost advantage to us to-day that the history of Mohammed’s successors, of their great conquests, and of the empire, follows so immediately upon his own. The several records used to be handed on with the names of those who vouched for them, from the first eye-witness down to the last teller of the tale, variations of statement being placed close side by side. In this way narratives told from the point of view of absolutely different parties have come down to us side by side, many of them dealing with the most important events of the first centuries of Islam, so that historical criticism is frequently in a position to ascertain the main features of what really took place with far greater certainty than if the Arabs themselves had proceeded to draw up a regular history and had manipulated their authorities in their own fashion. The tradition of the deeds and adventures of the ancient heroes of Arabia, too, was carefully cherished, and much of it has come down to us.

ARAB LEARNING

In this, as in all branches of exact learning of the Moslems, the Arabic language stands alone at first and even in later times occupies the foremost place, whether the student immediately concerned was of pure Arab descent (which was probably very seldom the case) or of mixed or foreign blood. This holds good of the sciences related to theology, above all, and of all branches of knowledge taught in the schools. Not one of the sciences properly so called was evolved by the Arabs (and the word may be taken in the most comprehensive sense) out of their own inner consciousness, not even grammar, the first branch of learning to assume the form of an exact science; some of the fundamental conceptions involved in it originated in the logic of Aristotle. This science, arising, as it did, out of the necessity of expounding the Koran and ancient poetry and the desire to preserve the classic[20] tongue of the Bedouins, which was liable to rapid alteration in the lands they had conquered, developed then, it is true, on very independent lines. Above all, Arab philosophy is wholly dependent upon Greek works, most of them translated from the original by Syrians or known through Syrian versions.[25] Even Islamite dogmatism found itself constrained to adopt the methods of the pagan philosophy of Greece.

The men who laid the foundations of Arab learning were for the most part not of Arab descent, though exceptions are more numerous than is commonly supposed. Sibawaih, who drew up the first great compendium of the Arabic language, was a Persian; though practically all he did was to compile what he had heard from his teachers, the chief of whom, Khalil, was in all likelihood a pure-blooded Arab. And this work, upon which that of later schools made little advance as far as the substance is concerned, is very clumsy in form, and as unsystematic as though he had been of pure Arab descent. Exact systematisation is a hard thing for the true Semite to compass. The ascendency exercised by the Arabic language during the centuries in which the intellectual life of Islamite countries was in its glory is best seen from the fact that even those Persians who claimed precedence for their own nation set forth their opinions to that effect in Arabic works.

In this place it is of course impossible to enter upon the history of Arab learning; we can only insist upon one single point, namely that (at least in the branches of scholarship which were held in the highest esteem) the culmination was reached early, and they were then treated of in countless works—compendiums, abstracts, commentaries, and versifications—without any particular variation in the subject-matter. How far medicine, natural science, and mathematics were advanced beyond the stage which the Greeks (and it may be, the Hindus) had attained by works written in Arabic I am not in a position to say.[26] The average standard of the very numerous chronicles in Arabic is considerably higher than that of the Latin chronicles of the Middle Ages, because, for one thing, the writers of the former were men in the thick of actual life, some of them indeed men of considerable consequence, while the latter were generally written in monasteries. We even come upon the rudiments of historical criticism, or at least of a comprehensive historical survey. The number of Arabic works containing the biography of eminent men, scholars, poets, and so forth, is positively amazing, as is the wealth of anthologies of every kind, in which poetry alternates with prose. In their works on literary history, again, they are in the habit of giving many specimens of the poems of the particular writers discussed. Among these anthologies and works on the history of literature are some of remarkable merit and of the highest value to us.

Furthermore we are much beholden to Arab authors of works on geography. These are almost all based upon actual observation and written with a practical aim; and thus have a great advantage over mere scholastic works. Wherever geography assumes a strictly scientific form, however, it is indebted to the system of Ptolemy.

Moslem philosophy (of which the most notable exponents were men of non-Arab descent, Persians, Spaniards, etc., though they all wrote in Arabic as a matter of course) is entirely an emanation from that of Greece, although[21] it rises here and there to the exposition of grand original ideas. The same holds good even of mysticism, which is at bottom in sharp opposition to scientific speculation. Originally an alien growth among the Arabs, with its roots partly in neo-Platonism and Christianity, partly in Hindu and Persian soil, it nevertheless attained a notable development among the Moslems. All speculation was kept within strict limits by the dominant religion. More liberal spirits (of which there were never many) were forced to observe the utmost caution in their utterances; although there was probably more freedom of thought in Islam than in Christian Europe.

But whatever judgment we may pass upon Arabic scientific literature as a whole, however readily we may concede that in proportion to its vast bulk the part played by originality is small, while that played by the repetition of repetitions is very large indeed, it is nevertheless, on the whole, greatly superior to the contemporary literature of Europe. There we should seek in vain for such works as, e.g., the great Book of Songs, which sets before us in varied guise the course of Arabic poetry down to late Moslem days, and the lives and doings of the Arabs of old time and of the later courts (tenth century) alike; or the geographical work of Mukaddasi (tenth century), the works of Biruni (a Persian from the neighbourhood of what is now Khiva, tenth and eleventh centuries) on chronology and other subjects, which are equally remarkable for their keen observation and strictly scientific temper; the geographical dictionary of Yakut (a man of Byzantine lineage of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries); the politico-historical Introduction to the Chronicle of Ibn Khaldun (of Tunis, fourteenth and fifteenth centuries) and many others. Not until close upon the dawn of the Renaissance does Europe gradually assert her decisive superiority over the East in every sphere of intellectual life. Arabic literature is of peculiar and supreme importance to ourselves because its vast store presents to us a comprehensive and vivid picture of life and thought in wide regions of the nearer East. Without it we should find the oriental peoples of antiquity far harder to understand. From this point of view the study of Arabic is of even greater importance as an aid to the right comprehension of the Old Testament and the cuneiform inscriptions than it is, on purely linguistic grounds, for the interpretation of the Hebrew and Assyrian languages.

INFLUENCE OF THE ARABS UPON EUROPE

The principal effect of Arab learning upon that of Europe consists in this—that a few Greek works which had been translated into Arabic and a few Arabic works which had followed in the footsteps of the Greek, were translated into Latin either from the original or through the medium of Hebrew versions, and thus became text-books to the Europeans. The original ideas of Arabic writers on medicine and mathematics may also have been imparted to western nations by translations of their writings. In all likelihood a European now and again studied medicine under the direct guidance of an oriental physician. Translations of certain Arabic books of tales and fables, native to India in the first instance, were widely circulated in Europe. Arabic poetry scarcely influenced that of Europe at all, at the utmost a few Romance verse-forms may be imitated from those of later Arabic poetry. Generally speaking we cannot but say that, in the region of intellectual activity, the influence of the Moslem on the Christian world was far slighter than we should have expected, considering the innumerable points of contact[22] between the two in Spain, Sicily, the scene of the Crusades, and elsewhere. On the other hand, the Europeans borrowed many details of outward culture and luxury from the Orientals.

LATER EVENTS OF ARABIC CIVILIZATION

During the early period of the Abbasid dynasty the Arab empire continued to expand more and more. It is true that the perpetual wars with Byzantium did not result in any permanent conquests in Asia Minor; but Islam, and with it a certain process of Arabisation, advanced with giant strides, especially in the East. This advance continued even while the caliphate fell lower and lower and its power passed to other despots, most of them not even of Arab descent, who usually treated the caliph with a show of reverence as their lord, but practically took little heed of him. Moreover, the Abbasids never ruled over Spain, whither an Omayyad had fled to found there an empire of his own, which soon attained a high degree of prosperity. Other empires, either absolutely independent of the caliphate, or actually hostile to it, presently arose in their places. But the glory of Arab civilisation suffered no great eclipse, even when the caliphs were mere puppets in the hands of the Buids, who had come as mercenaries from the semi-barbaric mountain tract of Gilan in Iran and had established a mighty empire (tenth century). Even the terrible Turkish migration, which led to the rise of the far mightier empire of the Seljuks, left much unharmed. The brisk and joyous life of a refined civilisation still shines forth from the pages of Hariri’s Makamat (eleventh century). The Crusades did indeed bring greater misery than ever upon the wretched land of Palestine, but on the whole they affected the nations of Islam far less than those which adhered to the church of Rome. The attacks of the Mongols were the first shock which destroyed the fairest flower of Islamite civilisation. Traces of the ravages perpetrated by these monsters are visible to this day. The destruction of Baghdad (1258) inflicted a terrible blow upon Arab culture. At that time the caliphate was in reality a petty state having for its capital a metropolis with which Constantinople alone could vie in importance.

The end of the caliphate coincided with and marked the close of the glorious period of the Arab empire. Even before it came to pass, the Mongols had annihilated the flourishing civilisation of the East by destroying the great cities there, and massacring their inhabitants. A remnant of Arab culture found refuge in Egypt, whither happily the Mongols did not penetrate.

Yet even this conquest actually promoted the spread of Islam. The Mongols settled among the Moslems and soon went over to Islam themselves. The greater part of Asia Minor had already been won over by the Seljuks to Turkish nationality and the faith of Islam, and from thence arose the empire of the Ottoman Turks, for centuries the terror of Europe. At the very time when Islamism, after a protracted struggle, was thrust forth from Spain, the fierce and fanatical worshippers of the God of Arabia bore the banner of his prophet far on the way towards Europe. And while warriors fought for the glory of Allah, Arabic learning was zealously pursued in the theological schools of the Ottoman empire, as it had been in the Middle Ages, and there was much instruction and literary labour after the older Arabic and Persian model, and now and again a work of real scientific value came into being. This mediæval pursuit of learning still prevails wherever Islam holds sway, and its sphere, though circumscribed in Europe, is of vast extent in Asia and Africa,[23] and still continues to expand. It is true that in many Islamite countries the influence of modern Europe makes itself felt even in learning, but it does not go deep, and the genuine Moslem scholar still treads closely in the footprints of the true believers, his predecessors. And Mecca, the home of the prophet, with his sanctuary and his school of theology, is to this day the religious centre for all who admit his claims, and recite the Arabic formulæ of the salat, and listen—though in most cases without the faintest comprehension—to the Arabic Book of God. Thither the pious pilgrim makes his way once in his life at least, if he possibly can, nor does he neglect to visit at the same time Mohammed’s grave at Medina. This constant gathering of pilgrims from every quarter at Mecca, and the influence exercised upon their native countries by the theologians who settled there, either temporarily or permanently, are of the utmost importance to the unity and strength of Islam, or, at least, of the creed it involves, which is that held by far the greater number of Semitic races. The language of the Holy City is Arabic, but the population is a mixture of the most diverse elements of nationality.[27]

LATER ISLAMITE MOVEMENTS

The Arabs of Arabia (as has been said before) have long since lost the place in the history of the world which they once occupied under circumstances wholly exceptional. Only twice since then has a strong movement made itself felt in at least the nearest of Islamite lands. In the tenth century the Karmates, a secret sect of Persian origin, hostile to the Abbasid caliphs and, at bottom, to Islam altogether, established themselves firmly in a part of northeastern Arabia, very difficult of access. Their leaders succeeded in winning over many Bedouins by the prospect of booty, and thus caravans of pilgrims were frequently massacred or robbed of all they possessed; some of the large cities of Babylonia were several times captured and pillaged; Mecca itself was taken during the pilgrim festival; the sacrosanct Black Stone carried off (930), and an end put to pilgrimages for a time. These proceedings were accomplished by much bloodshed. The Black Stone was ultimately restored after an interval of twenty-one years, on payment of a heavy ransom. The Karmates were secretly in league with the Fatimites, the anti-caliph dynasty in Africa, which claimed descent from Ali and Fatima, the daughter of Mohammed. They sank back into insignificance by slow degrees.[28] A connection of some sort exists between the above-mentioned occurrences and the migration of certain Bedouin tribes, under the auspices of the Fatimites, from Arabia to Upper Egypt and remoter parts of northern Africa, where they committed great ravages (eleventh century).

And in the eighteenth century the puritanic movement of Abd al-Wahhab arose in the heart of Arabia, with the object of restoring Islam to its pristine purity and repudiating all innovations that had crept in by lapse of time, from the veneration of the tombs of saints to the smoking of tobacco. The Wahhabees brought the greater part of Arabia, inclusive of the holy cities, under their influence for a while, exacted a minute observation of the[24] precepts of religion, bore strict rule in all things, and established a condition of peace such as that country, predestinate to lawlessness, had not known since the days of the caliphate. The Wahhabees were heretics inasmuch as they did not regard the “catholic” principle, which had won acceptance in Islam, that all things adopted by the consensus of the whole church were binding upon all men; though of course the fiction was kept up that this consensus was invariably in harmony with the original character of the faith. They, on the contrary, held in all seriousness the principle, which was universally recognised in theory, that every innovation in the sphere of religion was wholly reprehensible.

The great simplicity of the religion of Mohammed made it possible to effect the restoration of its pristine purity in a far higher degree than the mighty efforts of the sixteenth and subsequent centuries could effect a return to primitive Christianity; and besides, the conditions of contemporary life in Arabia were not widely different from those that had prevailed in the time of the prophet. A few of the theologians of the Ottoman empire actually recognised the Wahhabees as orthodox. These fanatical zealots were, however, obnoxious to the Turkish government for more reasons than one, and hence their power was broken by Muhammed Ali of Egypt, after a desperate struggle. Wahhabism actually exists to this day in the interior of Arabia, but under two mutually hostile dynasties and (in spite of having occasionally sent its emissaries as far as India) without any great prospect of spreading. It is firmly rooted only among the non-nomadic Arabs. The Bedouins never obey a Wahhabee ruler except under compulsion. They are at all times loath to serve a master, and though animated by the Moslem spirit, they are very negligent in the performance of their religious duties. They do not even hesitate to extort all they possibly can from pilgrim caravans, either by openly waylaying them or by levying toll for the privilege of passing through their territory. Taken as a whole, the life of the Bedouin of to-day still bears a strong resemblance to that of his ancestors long ago, but his intellectual level seems to have sunk from the height it maintained at the time of Mohammed. Even the number of places in Arabia suitable for agriculture appears to have diminished through the neglect and decay of irrigation.

The fact that a few points on the coast are of some importance to European commerce and politics is of no consequence to the country as a whole, at least for the present.

FOOTNOTES

[25]

---

HISTORY IN OUTLINE OF PARTHIANS, SASSANIDS, AND ARABS

We turn back now to the scene of the earlier history, turning back in time also. The events of three great empires will pass quickly before the view, the period of time involved being more than seventeen hundred years. The territories occupied by the peoples under consideration were wide, and the peoples themselves successively dominated the eastern world, and contested supremacy there with Rome. Of the Parthians and Sassanids it must be said that, while important in holding Rome back, they had otherwise an inconsiderable influence in the West; moreover, Rome could not have retained the Orient even had she conquered it. As regards the culture influence of the Parthians and Sassanids in Europe, this was virtually nil. The case is quite different when we come to the Arabs. Here was a race which not only became dominant in the East, but seriously threatened to overthrow and supplant the entire civilisation of Europe; and which, foiled in this, retained supremacy in the East and developed an indigenous culture that powerfully influenced all Christendom.

It must be understood that the relations between the Parthians, Sassanids, and Arabs is geographical and chronological rather than ethnological. The Parthians were overthrown by the Sassanids, and the Sassanids by the Arabs. The three peoples successively ruled over similar territories, and their histories may advantageously be considered in sequence; but it will be understood that they represented different races and bore to one another merely the relation of the conquered to the conqueror. An outline of the history of Armenia is appended, to give completeness to the subject, much as we gave chronologies of various other minor nations of Western Asia in a previous volume.

---

[47]

CHAPTER I. THE PARTHIAN EMPIRE

The battle of Arbela (331 B.C.) made Alexander the heir of the Persian Empire. In the volumes devoted to Grecian history we have shown how he verified his claims of conquest, subdivided his empire among satraps of his own appointment, and left the enormous heritage, when he died, to “the best man.” It was further shown how no one man among the generals of the Alexandrian school could prove himself the best man, and how, in consequence, the empire fell into a chaos of civil wars until at last certain major divisions assumed a particularly definite form—among them the Ptolemaic Egypt, and the Iran of Seleucus and his family the Seleucidæ, among whom the name Antiochus frequently appears, the city of Antioch in Syria being taken as a capital. The degeneracy of these rulers was the opportunity of the obscure race of Parthians, who, with qualities and customs that in many ways remind one of the American Indian, rose to a power so great that under the first Cæsars the Romans thought of them as dividing the power of the world with Rome.

The only continuous ancient history of this race is that of Justin, which ends with the year 9 B.C. and shows a gap between 94 and 55 B.C. We quote this unique account entire; but the reader is cautioned that it is not to be given full credence everywhere: it is introductory to the more critical modern account that follows.a

Justin’s Account of the Parthians

The Parthians, who are now in possession of the empire of the East, having, as it were, divided the world with the Romans, came originally from Scythian exiles. This too is evident from their name: for in the Scythian language the word Parthi signifies exiles. This nation, in the times both of the Assyrians and Medes, was the obscurest in the East. Afterwards too, when the empire of the East was transferred from the Medes to the Persians, they were an easy prey to the conquerors, like a vulgar herd without a name. At last,[48] they came under the Macedonian yoke, when they carried their triumphant arms into these parts of the world; so that it is really strange that they should have arrived to such power as to rule over those nations, whose slaves they had formerly been.

Being thrice attacked by the Romans, under the conduct of their greatest generals, in the most flourishing times of the republic, they alone of all nations were not only a match for them, but came off victorious; yet perhaps it was still a greater glory for them to be able to rise, amidst the Assyrian, Median, and Persian kingdoms, so famous of old, and the most opulent empire of Bactria, consisting of a thousand cities, than that they defeated a people that came from so remote a part of the world; especially when at that time they were incessantly alarmed by the Scythians and their other neighbours, and exposed to so many uncertainties of war. They being forced to leave Scythia by seditions at home did, by stealth, possess themselves of the deserts between Hyrcania, the Dahæ, the Arians, the Spartans, and Margians. After which, their neighbours not resisting at first, they at last, in spite of their opposition, when they came too late to hinder them, so far extended their frontiers that they not only took possession of vast plains, but also of craggy hills and steep mountains. And hence it comes that the heat and cold are excessive in several provinces of Parthia; for the snow is troublesome in the mountainous parts, and the heat in the plains.

THEIR CUSTOMS

This nation was under kingly government, after their revolt from the Macedonian Empire. With them the chiefs of the populace were next in power to the king. Out of them were chosen their generals in war and their governors in peace. Their language is a mixture of the Median and Scythian, borrowing words from both. Their habit was formerly very particular; but after they were increased in power, it was like that of the Medes, full flowing and thin. They are armed like the Scythians, from whom they are descended. Their armies are not, like those of other nations, composed wholly of freemen, but chiefly of slaves; the numbers of which increase prodigiously, none having the power of manumitting. They treat these with as much care as their children, and teach them with great industry both riding and shooting. Everyone furnishes his prince with horsemen, in proportion to his ability. To conclude, when fifty thousand horsemen met Antony, upon his attacking the Parthians, four hundred of them only were freemen. They are ignorant of the art of besieging towns, or of engaging in close fight. They fight on horseback, sometimes advancing, and sometimes turning back upon their enemies. They often counterfeit flight, that they may have an advantage of their pursuers, less upon their guard. The signal for battle is not given by trumpet, but by drum. They do not hold[49] out long in fight; and indeed it would be impossible to stand before them, if their perseverance was equal to the fury of their onset. For the most part, they quit the battle in the very heat of an engagement, and on the sudden renew it with great vehemence; so that one is in greatest danger from them when he thinks he has conquered them. A sort of strong coats, made of little plates, in the fashion of feathers, are used by them, to cover both them and their horses. They use no gold nor silver, but only in their arms.

Each particular man was allowed to have several wives, for the pleasure of variety; and they punish no crime so severely as adultery. To prevent it, they not only exclude their women from their feasts, but forbid them the very sight of men. They eat no flesh, but what they take by hunting. They ride on horseback at all times; on horse they go to feasts; pay civilities, public and private; march out, stand still, traffic, converse. This, in fine, is the difference between slaves and freemen, that the slaves go on foot, the freemen on horseback. Their common way of sepulture is being devoured by dogs or birds, and after that, burying the bare bones in the ground. In their superstition and worship of the gods, the principal veneration is paid to rivers.

The nation is naturally proud, treacherous, seditious, and insolent; for a boisterous rough behaviour they think manly. Gentleness, they think, belongs to women, as their character. They are restless to be engaged in some quarrel, at home or abroad; taciturn by temper, and more ready to act than speak; wherefore they conceal their good or bad fortune by their silence. They are strictly subject to their princes, not out of duty however but through fear. They are much addicted to lust, though very temperate in their diet; and they pay no more regard to their word, than suits with their interest.

SELEUCUS AND ARSACES

After the death of Alexander the Great, when the kingdoms of the East were divided amongst his successors, because none of the Macedonians would condescend to accept of the kingdom of the Parthians, it was delivered to Stasanor, a foreign ally. And afterwards, when the Macedonians were involved in a civil war, they, with the rest of the nations of upper Asia, followed Eumenes; and when he was defeated, they went over to Antigonus. After him, they were under Nicator Seleucus; and soon after, under Antiochus and his successors; from whose grandson Seleucus they first revolted in the First Punic War, when L. Manlius Vulso and M. Atilius Regulus were consuls. The divisions of the two brothers, Seleucus and Antiochus, procured them an immunity for this revolt, who during their contentions to wrest the sceptre out of one another’s hands, neglected to pursue the revolters. At the same time Theodotus too, the governor of the thousand cities of Bactria, revolted, and commanded himself to be called king; which example all the Eastern nations soon followed, and shook off the Macedonian yoke.

There was, at this time, one Arsaces, a man of tried valour, though of uncertain extraction. He, being accustomed to live by robbery and plunder, having heard that Seleucus had been overthrown by the Gauls in Asia, fearing the king no longer, entered the country of the Parthians with a band of robbers, defeated and killed Andragoras his lieutenant, and seized the government of the whole country. Not long after, he likewise made himself[50] master of Hyrcania; and being now in possession of two kingdoms, he raised a great army, for fear of Seleucus and Theodotus king of the Bactrians. But being soon delivered from his fears by the death of Theodotus, he made peace and entered into an alliance with his son, who was likewise named Theodotus: and not long after, engaging with King Seleucus, who came to punish the revolters, he had a victory; and this day the Parthians observe ever since with great solemnity, as the commencement of their liberty.

Some new disturbances obliging Seleucus to return into Asia, some respite was by this means given to Arsaces, who took this opportunity to establish the Parthian government, levy soldiers, fortify castles, and secure the fidelity of his cities. He built a city too, called Dara, upon the mountain Zapaortenon; which was so situated that no city could be stronger or pleasanter. For it was so environed with rough rocks on all sides, that it needed no garrison to defend it; and so fertile was the adjacent soil, that it was abundantly furnished with all necessaries by its own riches. Then there were in such plenty woods and fountains, that there was never any scarcity of water; and it had vast store of game. Thus Arsaces, having at once acquired and established a kingdom, was no less memorable among the Parthians than Cyrus among the Persians, Alexander among the Macedonians, or Romulus among the Romans; and he died in a good old age. To his memory the Parthians paid this honour, that from him they called all their kings by the name of Arsaces. His son and successor in the kingdom, who was Arsaces by name, fought with great bravery against Antiochus the son of Seleucus, who came against him with a hundred thousand foot and twenty thousand horse; and at last made an alliance with him. The third king of the Parthians was Priapatius; but he too was named Arsaces; for, as was said above, they called all their kings by that name, as the Romans do theirs Cæsar and Augustus. He died, after he had reigned fifteen years, leaving two sons, Mithridates and Phraates, the elder of whom, Phraates, being according to the custom of this nation heir of the kingdom, subdued by his arms the Mardians, a strong nation, and died not long after, leaving several sons behind him, whom he passed by, and left his kingdom to his brother Mithridates, a man of uncommon abilities; judging that more was due to the name of king than that of father; and that he ought to prefer the interest of his country to the grandeur of his children.

Almost at the same time, as Mithridates among the Parthians so Eucratides amongst the Bactrians, both princes of great merit, began to reign. But the uncommon good fortune of the Parthians brought them, under this monarch, to the highest pitch of greatness. The Bactrians, on the other hand, being distressed by several wars, not only lost their sovereignty, but their liberty; for being exhausted by wars with the Sogdians, Drangians, and Indians, were, like a people quite enfeebled and expiring, subdued by the Persians, who had been a little before much weaker than they. However, Eucratides carried on many wars with great vigour; and though his losses had much weakened him, yet being besieged by Demetrius, king of the Indians, with only three hundred soldiers he made continual sallies, and so fatigued the enemy, consisting of forty thousand men, that he obliged them to raise the siege. Wherefore, being delivered from the siege, in the fifth month he reduced India under his power; but in his return from thence, he was assassinated by his son, whom he had made his partner in the kingdom; who was so far from concealing the parricide that, as if he had killed an enemy and not his father, he drove his chariot through his blood, and ordered his body to be thrown out unburied. During these transactions in Bactria, a war[51] broke out between the Parthians and the Medes. After the success of this war had for some time been various, victory at last fell to the Parthians. Mithridates, enforced with this addition to his strength, set Bacasis over Media, and went himself into Hyrcania; from whence returning, he made war upon the king of the Elymæans; and, after the conquest of him, he added this nation likewise to his dominions; and so extended the Parthian Empire from Mount Caucasus as far as the river Euphrates, by reducing many nations under his yoke. After this, being seized with an illness, he died in an honourable old age, not at all inferior in glory to his great-grandfather Arsaces.

After the death of Mithridates, king of Parthia, Phraates his son succeeded to the kingdom; who being resolved to revenge himself upon Antiochus for attacking the kingdom of Parthia, was recalled by disturbances from Scythia, to defend his own country. For the Scythians, being invited by promises to assist the Parthians against Antiochus, king of Syria, having arrived after the war was ended, were frustrated of their promised reward, under the idle pretence of their coming too late; and it made the Scythians so angry that they should have had so long a march for nothing, that they demanded either pay for their trouble or that some other enemy should be allotted them. The haughty reply given to this demand so enraged them, that they began to ravage the country of the Parthians.

Wherefore Phraates, marching against them, left one Hymerus, who had recommended himself to his favour by prostituting the bloom of his youth to his infamous lust, the care of his kingdom in his absence. This governor, forgetting his past life and the trust he was charged with, miserably harassed the Babylonians, and many other cities, by his tyrannical cruelties. But Phraates himself carried along with him to the war an army of Greeks, which he had taken in the war against Antiochus, and treated with great pride and barbarity; not at all considering that their hatred to him was so far from being lessened by their captivity, that they were rather more exasperated against him by the indignity of the outrages they had suffered. Wherefore, when they saw the army of the Parthians give ground, they joined their arms with those of the enemy, and executed their long wished-for revenge for their captivity by the bloody havoc they made on the Parthian army, and by the death of King Phraates himself.

Artabanus his uncle was made king in his room; but the Scythians being content with victory, having laid waste Parthia, returned home. But Artabanus, in a war made upon the Thogarians, received a wound in his arm, of which he died immediately. He was succeeded by his son Mithridates, to whom his exploits gained the surname of Great; for, being fired with a brave emulation of his forefathers, he surpassed their fame by the greatness of his soul. Accordingly, he carried on many wars against his neighbours with signal gallantry, and added many provinces to the Parthian Empire. Not satisfied with this, he often had war with the Scythians; and by the victories he obtained over them revenged the injury his father had received from them. At last, he employed his arms against Ortoadistes, king of the Armenians.

WARS WITH ROME

After the war of Armenia, Mithridates, king of the Parthians, was banished his kingdom for his cruelty, by the Parthian senate. Orodes his brother, having possessed himself of the vacant throne, besieged Babylon, to which[52] city this fugitive prince had fled; and after a long siege forced the people, by famine, to surrender. Mithridates, relying upon his being so nearly related to Orodes, voluntarily gave himself up to him; but Orodes, considering him rather as an enemy than a brother, commanded him to be killed in his own presence; and after these things carried on a war with the Romans, and cut to pieces their general Crassus, together with his son and all his army. His son Pacorus being sent to pursue the remainder of the Roman war, after he had performed very great actions in Syria was recalled by his father, who was become jealous of him. In his absence, the Parthian army left in Syria was cut off, with its commanders, by Cassius, paymaster to Crassus.

Not long after this, the civil wars between Cæsar and Pompey broke out, in which the Parthians declared for the latter, because of the friendship contracted with him in the Mithridatic War and because of Crassus’ death, whose son they had heard was of Cæsar’s party, who they made no doubt would revenge his father, if Cæsar proved conqueror. Wherefore Pompey’s party having lost the day, they both sent assistance to Cassius and Brutus against Augustus and Antony; and after the war was over, under their leader Pacorus, making an alliance with Labienus, they laid waste Syria and Asia; and with a mighty force attacked the camp of Ventidius, who, in the absence of Pacorus, had routed the Parthian armies, as Cassius had done before him. But Ventidius, counterfeiting fear, kept himself a long time in his camp, and for some time suffered the Parthians to insult him. At last, he sent out some of his legions against the enemy, now grown secure and off their guard and full of joy, who, not able to resist them, fled several ways. Pacorus imagining that the victorious legions had pursued the fliers too far, attacked Ventidius’ camp, as if there had been none left to defend it. Upon this, the Roman general drew out the rest of his legions, killed Pacorus upon the spot, and put the whole army of the Parthians to the sword, who never received so great a blow in any of their wars.

When this news came to Parthia, Orodes, the father of Pacorus, who a little before had heard that his troops had ravaged Syria, and conquered Asia, and had boasted of his son as conqueror of the Romans, hearing on a sudden of his son’s death and entire defeat of his army, was struck with grief that threw him into a frenzy. For during several days he would speak to nobody; so that he seemed to be dumb; nor would he take any refreshment. And when his grief, at last, had found a vent, he called incessantly upon Pacorus; Pacorus he fancied to appear to him, to speak to him, to stand with him, and be heard by him. Sometimes he mournfully bewailed himself as lost; then, after long mourning, another care seized this miserable old man, and that was, whom of his thirty sons he should declare his successor in the room of Pacorus. His many concubines, by whom he had so many sons, being each concerned for her own, laid all of them very close siege to the king, each in favour of her own; but the fate of Parthia, in which country it is now become customary to have princes stained with the blood of their fathers and brothers, would so have it that the choice fell upon the wickedest of them all, Phraates too by name.

Wherefore he immediately killed his father, thinking he would never die. He likewise killed all his thirty brothers. Neither did his cruelty stop there: for finding he was hated by the nobility for his daily barbarities, he ordered his son, who was almost grown up to the years of maturity, to be slain; that there might none be left to be proclaimed king. Antony made war upon him with sixteen very able legions, because he had furnished assistance against him and Cæsar; but being sadly mauled in several battles, he fled[53] from Parthia. This victory making Phraates insupportably insolent and cruel, he was forced by his people into banishment. After he had for a long time wearied the neighbouring states, and at last the Scythians too, with his importunity, he was restored to his kingdom by a powerful assistance from the Scythians. In his absence, the Parthians had made one Tiridates their king, who hearing of the approach of the Scythians, fled with a great body of his friends to Cæsar, at that time waging war with Spain, bringing the youngest son of Phraates as hostage to Cæsar, whom being negligently guarded he had stolen away. Upon this news, Phraates immediately sent ambassadors to Cæsar, and demanded that his son, together with his vassal Tiridates, should be sent back to him.

Cæsar, having given audience to the ambassadors of Phraates and heard the reasons of Tiridates, who desired to be restored to his crown, declaring that the kingdom of Parthia would be in a manner subject to the Romans if he held it from them, said that he would neither surrender Tiridates to the Parthians, nor give assistance to Tiridates against the Parthians. However, that he might not seem to refuse them everything they demanded, he sent Phraates his son to him, without any ransom, and ordered a handsome maintenance for Tiridates, so long as he had a mind to continue amongst the Romans. After this, the Spanish War being ended, when he came into Syria to settle the state of the East, Phraates was afraid that he might have some designs upon Parthia. Wherefore the prisoners who had been taken at the defeat of Crassus and Antony were gathered together, and they, together with the military standards either of them had lost, were sent back to Augustus. Nor was this all, but the sons and grandsons of Phraates were likewise delivered as hostages to Augustus. And thus Augustus did more by the terror of his name than any other general could have done by his arms.b

Modern Accounts of Parthia

This is the history of the Parthians as given by Justin in his abridgement of the lost work of Trogus Pompeius. Later investigations and criticism have thrown a little light on various portions of the history, and from the point where Justin grows briefest other Roman historians took up the chronicles of the Parthians with avid interest. The study of coins has also been of invaluable aid. It has seemed better to give Justin’s account in its original fluency without interpolating criticisms here and there. Now, however, we must make a brief presentation of Parthian history from the start in a modern view.a

THE PARTHIAN EMPIRE

Hellenism made no deep impression on Iran as on the West, nor did the loose-jointed empire attain to anything higher than a Hellenistic reproduction of the kingdom of the Achæmenians. Even in the fragmentary records that we possess we hear from the first of rebellions little favourable to consolidation of the realm; Seleucus, like Alexander, still had an army of Macedonians and Persians together, while the later Seleucids, at least in their western wars, used natives sparingly and only as bowmen, slingers, or the like, and preferred for these services the wild desert and mountain tribes of Iran.

[54]

Under the weak Antiochus II northeastern Iran was lost to the empire. While the Seleucids were busy elsewhere, probably in the long war with Ptolemy Philadelphus, which occupied Antiochus’ later years, Diodotus, viceroy of Bactria, took the title of king. The new kingdom included Sogdiana and Margiana from the first, while the rest of the East, with a single exception scarcely noticed at the time, adhered to the Seleucids. Now the formation of a strong local kingdom, heartily supported by the Greek colonies and likely to control the neighbouring nomads and strictly to protect its own frontiers, was by no means agreeable to the chief of the desert tribes who, like the modern Turkomans, had been wont to pillage the settled lands and raise blackmail with little hindrance from the weak and distant central authority at Antioch. Accordingly two brothers, Arsaces and Tiridates—whose tribe, the Parnians, a subdivision of the Dahæ, had hitherto pastured their flocks in Bactria on the banks of the Ochus—moved west into Seleucid territory near Parthia. An insult offered to the younger brother by the satrap Pherecles moved them to revolt; Pherecles was slain, and Parthia freed from the Macedonians.

ARSACES AND THE ARSACIDS

Arsaces was then proclaimed first king of Parthia (250 B.C.). Such is the later official tradition, and we possess no other account of the beginnings of the Arsacid dynasty. But when the official account transforms Arsaces, who according to genuine tradition was the leader of a robber horde and of uncertain descent, into a Bactrian, the descendant of Phriapites son of Artaxerxes II (who was called Arsaces before his accession), and makes him conspire with his brother and five others, like the seven who slew the false Smerdis, we detect the invention of a period when the Arsacids had entered on the inheritance of the Achæmenians, and imitated the order of their court. The seven conspirators are the heads of the seven noble houses to whom, beyond doubt, the Karen, the Suren, and the Aspahapet belonged. And further, genuine tradition does not know the first Arsaces as king of Parthia at all, and as late as 105 B.C. the Parthians themselves reckoned the year (autumn) 248-247 B.C. as the first of their empire. But 248 B.C. is the year in which Arsaces I is said to have been killed, after a reign of two years, and succeeded by his brother; who, like all subsequent kings of the line, took the throne name of Arsaces.

The first Arsaces must have existed, for he appears as deified on the reverse of his brother’s drachmæ, but he was not king of Parthia. Nay, we have authentic record that even in the epoch-year 248-247 B.C., the year of the accession of Tiridates, Parthia was still under the Seleucids. These contradictions are solved by a notice of Isidore of Charax, which names a city Asaak, not in Parthia but northwest of it, in the neighbouring Astauene, where Arsaces was proclaimed king and where an everlasting fire was kept burning. This, therefore, was the first seat of the monarchy, and Pherecles was presumably satrap of Astauene, not eparch of Parthia.

The times were not favourable for the reduction of the rebels. When Antiochus II died, the horrors that accompanied the succession of his son Seleucus (II) Callinicus (246-226 B.C.) gave the king of Egypt the pretext for a war, in which he overran almost the whole lands of the Seleucids as far as Bactria. Meantime a civil war was raging between Seleucus and his brother Antiochus Hierax, whom the Galatians supported, and at the great battle of Ancyra in 242 or 241 B.C. Seleucus was totally defeated and thought to be slain.[55] At this news Arsaces Tiridates, whom the genuine tradition still represents as a brave robber-chief, broke into Parthia at the head of the Parnians, slew the Macedonian eparch Andragoras, and took possession of the province. These Parnian Dahæ, in consequence of eternal dissensions, had migrated at a remote date to Hyrcania and the desert adjoining the Caspian. Here, and in great measure even after they conquered Parthia, they retained the peculiarities of Scythian nomads.

PARTHIAN CUSTOMS

The common tradition connects the migration with the conquests of the Scythian king Iandysus, a contemporary of Sesostris [Ramses II]. It adds that Parthian means “fugitive” or “exile” (Zend, peretu). But the name Parthava is found on the inscriptions of Darius long before the immigration of the Parnians. The Parthian language is described as a sort of compound between Median and Scythian; and, since the name of the Dahæ and those of their tribes show that they belong to the nomads of Iranian kin, who in antiquity were widely spread from the Jaxartes as far as the steppes of south Russia, we must conclude that the mixed language arose by the action and reaction of two Iranian dialects, that of the Parthians and that of their masters. Their nomad costume the Parnians in Parthia gradually gave up for the Median dress, but they kept their old war-dress, the characteristic scale-armour completely covering man and horse. The founder of the empire appears on coins in this dress, with the addition of a short mantle; and so again does Mithridates II. The hands and feet alone are unprotected by mail; shoes with laces, and a conical helmet with flaps to protect the neck and ears, complete the costume.

The conquerors of Parthia continued to be a nation of cavalry; to walk on foot was a shame for a free man; the national weapon was the bow, and their way of fighting was to make a series of attacks, separated by a simulated flight, in which the rider discharged his shafts backwards. Many habits of the life they had led in the desert were retained, and the Parthian rulers never lost connection with the nomad tribes on their frontiers, among whom several Arsacids found temporary refuge. Gradually, of course, the rulers were assimilated to their subjects; the habitual faithlessness and other qualities ascribed to the Parthians by the Romans are such as are common to all Iranians. The origin of the Parthian power naturally produced a rigid aristocratic system: a few freemen governed a vast population of bondsmen; manumission was forbidden, or rather was impossible, since social condition was fixed by descent; the ten thousand horsemen who followed Surenas into battle were all his serfs or slaves, and of the fifty thousand cavalry who fought against Antony only four hundred were freemen.

BACTRIA AND PARTHIA CONSOLIDATE

Arsaces Tiridates soon added Hyrcania to his realm and raised a great host to maintain himself against Seleucus, but still more against a nearer enemy, Diodotus of Bactria. On the death of the latter, the common interests of Parthians and Bactrians as against the Seleucids brought about an alliance between Arsaces Tiridates and Diodotus II. With much ado, Seleucus had got the better of his foreign and intestine foes and kept his kingdom together; and in 238 B.C., or a little later, having made peace with Egypt and silenced his brother, he marched from Babylon into the upper satrapies.[56] Tiridates at first retired and took shelter with the nomadic Apasiacæ, but he advanced again and gained a victory, which the Parthians continued to commemorate as the birthday of their independence. Seleucus was unable to avenge his defeat, being presently called back by the rebellion stirred up by his aunt Stratonice at Antioch. This gave the great Hellenic kingdom in Bactria and the small native state in Parthia time to consolidate themselves. Tiridates used the respite to strengthen his army, to fortify town and castles, and to found the city of Dara or Dareium in the smiling landscape of Abévard. Tiridates, who on his coins appears first merely as Arsaces, then as King Arsaces, and finally as “great king,” reigned thirty-seven years, dying in 211 or 210 B.C. His nation ever held his memory in almost divine honour.

Seleucus III Soter (226-223 B.C.) died early, and was followed by Antiochus (III) Magnus (223-137 B.C.), who in his brother’s life-time had ruled from Babylon over the upper satrapies. Molon, governor of Media, supported by his brother Alexander in Persis,[29] rose against him in 222 B.C. and assumed the diadem. The great resources of his province, which followed him devotedly, enabled Molon to take the offensive and even to occupy Seleucia, after a decisive battle with the royal general Xenœtas. Babylonia, the Erythræan district, all Susiana except the fortress of Susa, Parapotamia as far as Europus, and Mesopotamia as far as Dura were successively reduced. But the young king soon turned the fortunes of the war. Crossing the Tigris in person, he cut off Molon’s retreat. Molon was forced to accept battle near Apollonia: his left wing passed over to the enemy, and, after a crushing defeat, he and all his kinsmen and chief followers died by their own hands (220 B.C.). Antiochus now marched to Seleucia to regulate the affairs of the East. He used his victory with moderation, mitigating the severities of his minister Hermias; but he had effectually prevented the rise of a new kingdom in the most important province of Iran.

In 209 B.C., with one hundred thousand foot and twenty thousand horse, he marched against the new Parthian king, Arsaces II, son and successor of Tiridates. The war ended in a treaty which left Arsaces his kingdom, but beyond question reduced him to a vassal. In 208 B.C. began the much more serious war with Bactria. At length, in 206 B.C., a peace was arranged, and Antiochus was visited in his camp by Demetrius, the youthful son of Euthydemus, who pleased the king so well that he betrothed to him his daughter;[57] Euthydemus was left on his throne, and the two powers swore an alliance offensive and defensive, which cost Bactria no more than certain payments of money, the victualling of the Macedonian troops, and the surrender of the war-elephants. The Bactrian Greeks were grateful for this moderation; their memorial coins place Antiochus Nicator with Euthydemus Theos, Diodotus Soter, and Alexander Philippi among the founders of their political existence.

The kings of Parthia had long remained quiet after the war with Antiochus the Great. Priapatius, successor of Arsaces II (191-176 B.C.), calls himself on his coins “Arsaces Philadelphus,” perhaps because he had married a sister, and was the first of all Parthian kings to call himself “Philhellen.” By the last title he presents himself, at a time when the Seleucid power was sinking, as the protector of his present and future Greek subjects. His eldest son and successor, Phraates I (Arsaces Theopater of the coins), conquered the brave Mardian highlanders and transplanted them to Charax in the neighbourhood of the Caspian Gates, a proof that the Parthians had already detached Comisene and Choarene from Media, probably just after the death of Antiochus the Great.

CONQUESTS OF MITHRIDATES

About 171 B.C. Phraates died and left the crown not to his sons but to his brother Mithridates, a prince of remarkable capacity, who made Parthia the ruling power in Iran. His first conquests, it would seem, were made at the expense of Bactria.

The kingdom of Bactria had made vast advances under Euthydemus, whose son Demetrius crossed the Indian Caucasus and began the Indian conquests, which soon carried the Greeks far beyond the farthest point of Alexander. The object, it is plain, was to reach the sea and get a share in the trade of the world; and it is possible that the extension of the power of the Bactrian Greeks over Chinese Tatary as far as the Seres and Phaunians had a similar object—to protect the trade-route with China. For the Seres are the Chinese, and the Phauni, according to Pliny, lay west of the Attacori (the mythical people at the sources of the Hwangho). They occupied, therefore, the very region which, according to Chinese sources, was then held by a nomadic pastoral people, the Tibetan No-kiang. Demetrius, having succeeded his father, was displaced in Bactria by the able usurper Eucratides, sometime between 181 and 171 B.C. A thousand cities obeyed Eucratides, and both he and his rival Demetrius sought to extend the Greek settlements. Now Justin tells us that the Bactrians were so exhausted by wars that they at length fell an easy prey to the weaker Parthians; but Eucratides he describes as a valiant prince, who once with three hundred men held out during five months, though besieged by sixty thousand men of Demetrius, king of India; and then, receiving succours, subdued India.

This implies that besides the kingdom of Bactria and that of Demetrius (the latter now confined to India and probably to the lands east of the Indus) there were independent states in various districts still Seleucid in 206 B.C. Justin’s statement is confirmed by the coins, which also show that Eucratides came forth as victor from a series of wars with the lesser states. Sogdiana, according to Chinese authorities, was occupied by the Scythians in the life-time of Eucratides.

On his way back from India Eucratides was murdered by his son and co-regent, probably Heliocles [ca. 155 B.C.]. The date of this murder may be fixed by that of Demetrius, who must have been born not later than 224 B.C.,[58] and may be taken to have lost his kingdom not later than 159 B.C. Eucratides cannot, according to Justin’s account, have lived many years longer.

In the midst of the civil wars, which became more serious after the death of Eucratides, Mithridates of Parthia began to extend his dominions at the expense of Bactria: even in the life-time of Eucratides he succeeded in annexing two satrapies. Another account makes Mithridates rule as far as India, and declares him to have obtained without war the old kingdom of Porus, or the rule over all nations between the Indus and the Hydaspes. The two accounts are reconciled by Chinese records, which tell that, about 161 B.C., the nomad people Sse broke into the valley of the Cophen and founded a kingdom in the very place of the Parthian conquests in India, which must therefore have been ephemeral. This fact has its importance, as illustrating the way in which the internal wars of the east Iranian Greeks helped to prepare the ground for the Scythian invasion. After this success in the east Mithridates turned his attention to the west, where the chances of success were not less inviting. Demetrius had at length fallen before a coalition of the neighbouring sovereigns, powerfully supported by the Romans through their instrument, the exile Heraclides. A pretender, Alexander, in 145 B.C., was utterly defeated by Ptolemy, and slain in his flight by an Arab chieftain. Demetrius (II) Nicator, however, soon made himself bitterly hated, and five years of fighting drove him out of the greater part of Syria.

MEDIA AND BABYLONIA CONQUERED

Such was the state of the empire when war broke out between Media and Parthia, which was finally decided in favour of the latter. The short-lived independence of Media was soon cut short by Mithridates, who did not lose the opportunity afforded by the civil wars of Syria in 147 B.C. Babylonia followed the fate of Media; and the whole province, with its capital Seleucia, fell into the hands of the Parthians. Thus the East was finally lost to the Macedonians.

The change of rule was not well received by the new subjects of Parthia, least of all by the Greeks and Macedonians of the upper provinces, who sent embassy after embassy to Demetrius. In 140 B.C. he marched into Mesopotamia, and thence by Babylon to the upper provinces. He was well received by the natives, and even the small native states made common cause with him against the proud barbarians, whose neighbourhood they felt to be oppressive. He was joined by the Persians and Elymæans, and the Bactrians helped him by a diversion, appearing now for the first time as an independent people. At first things went well, and the Parthians were defeated in several battles, but in Media in 139 B.C. Demetrius was surprised by the lieutenant of Mithridates during negotiations for peace; his forces were annihilated, and he himself was taken prisoner and dragged in chains through the provinces that had joined his cause. The Parthian king received his captive with favour and assigned him a residence and suitable establishment in Hyrcania. He even gave him his daughter Rhodogune, and promised to restore him to his kingdom, but this plan was interrupted by death.

Mithridates’ latest campaign was against the king of Elymais; the rich temples yielding him a booty of ten thousand talents (£2,258,000 or $11,290,000). The country was brought under Parthia, but continued to have its own kings. The coins make it likely that Mithridates simply set up[59] a new dynasty, a branch of his own house. Mithridates died at a good old age in 138 B.C., or a little later. His memory was reverenced almost equally with that of the founder of his house, but his real glory was much greater, for it was he who made Parthia a great power. He is praised as a just and humane ruler, who, having become lord of all the lands from the Indian Caucasus to the Euphrates, introduced among the Parthians the best institutions of each country, and so became the legislator of his nation.

PARTHIAN “KINGDOMS”

The divisions of the empire which he founded can be sketched by the aid of an excerpt from the itinerary of Isidore of Charax (at the beginning of the Christian era) and from Pliny. The empire was divided into the upper and lower kingdoms, separated by the Caspian Gates. The lower kingdoms were seven: (1) Mesopotamia and Babylonia, (2) Apolloniatis, (3) Chalonitis, (4) Carina, (5) Cambadene, (6) Upper Media, (7) Lower or Rhagian Media. The upper kingdoms were eleven: (8) Choarene, (9) Comisene, (10) Hyrcania, (11) Astauene, (12) Parthyene, (13) Apauarcticene, (14) Margiana, a part of Bactria, (15) Aria, (16) the country of the Anauans, (17) Zarangiana, and (18) Arachosia, now called “White India.” The eighteen Parthian kingdoms thus correspond to six old satrapies. The Parthians gave much less attention to the west than did their predecessors, and they still left Mesopotamia as the only great satrapy. We note also that they cared little for reaching the sea, which they can have touched only for a little way at the mouth of the Euphrates; and even here they allowed the petty Characene quite to outstrip them in competing for the great sea trade.

As compared with the older Macedonian Empire, the Parthian realm lacked the east Iranian satrapies, Bactria with Sogdiana, and the Paropanisadæ, and also the three Indian ones, which, with Parætacene, or as it was afterwards called Sacastane, remained under the Bactrian Greeks and their successors. In the north they lacked Lesser Media, which had long been an independent state, and in the south they lacked Susiana, which now belonged to Elymais, and the satrapies of Persis and Carmania, which the Persians held along with the western part of Gedrosia. In the extreme west they lacked Arebelitis proper, which formed a small kingdom under the name of Adiabene, first mentioned in 69 B.C. The kingdom of Mannus of Orrha in northern Mesopotamia, which according to Isidore reached a good way south of Edessa, seems also to have been independent, and, like Adiabene, probably existed before the Parthian time.

From these small kingdoms the Parthians asked only an acknowledgment of vassalship. When Parthia was vigorous the vassalship was real, but when Parthia was torn by factions it became a mere name. The relation was always loose, and the political power of Parthia was therefore never comparable to the later power of the Sassanians. Arsaces Tiridates and his successors called themselves “great king.” Mithridates, as overlord of the minor kingships, first bore the title “great king of kings.” The title seems to have been conferred, not assumed in mere boastfulness.

The nobility had great influence in all things, and especially in the nomination of the king, who, however, was always an Arsacid. Next to the king stood the senate of probuli, from whom all generals and lieutenant-governors were chosen. They were called the king’s kin, and were no doubt[60] the old Parnian martial nobility. A second senate was composed of the magians and wise men, and by these two senates the king was nominated. The Parthians were, in fact, very pious, conscientious in observing even the most troublesome precepts in Zoroastrianism as to the disposal of dead bodies, which were exposed to birds of prey and dogs, the bare bones alone being buried. When the Parthian prince Tiridates visited Nero he journeyed overland that he might not be forced to defile the sea when he spat, and his spiritual advisers the magians travelled with him. The magians were not, indeed, so all-powerful as under the Sassanians, but it is quite a mistake to think that the Parthians were but lukewarm Zoroastrians.

SCYTHIAN CONQUEST OF BACTRIA

The complete annihilation of the Macedonian Empire in Iran was closely followed by the destruction of Greek independence in eastern Iran. The last mention of independent Bactria is in 140 B.C.; no king of Bactria and Sogdiana is known from coins after the parricide Heliocles. Classical writers give only two laconic accounts of the catastrophe. Strabo says that the nomadic peoples of the Asii, Pasiani, Tochari, and Sacaraucæ, dwellers in the land of the Sacæ, beyond the Jaxartes, opposite to the Sacæ and Sogdians, came and took Bactria from the Greeks. Trogus names the Scythian peoples Saraucæ and Asiani. Fortunately the lively interest taken by the Chinese in the movements of the nomads of central Asia enables us to fill up this meagre notice from the report of the Chinese agent in Bactria in 128 B.C., as recorded a little later by the oldest Chinese historian, and from other notices collected by the Chinese after the opening of the regular caravan route with the West, about 115 B.C., and embodied in their second oldest history.

According to these sources the Yue-chi, a nomad people akin to the Tibetans, lived aforetime between Tun-hoang (Sha-cheu) and the Kilien-shan Mountains, and about 177 B.C. were subjugated, like all their neighbours, by the Turkish Hiung-nu. Between 167 and 161 B.C. they renewed the struggle without success; Lao-shang, the great khan of the Hiung-nu, slew their king Chang-lun, and made a drinking-cup of his skull, and the great mass of the vanquished people (the great Yue-chi) left their homes and moved westward, and occupied the land on Lake Issyk-kul, driving before them another nomad race, the Sse. The Sse took the road by Utch and Kashgar, ultimately reaching and subduing the kingdom of Kipin (the Kabul valley), while their old seats were occupied by the great Yue-chi, till they in turn were soon attacked by the Usun, who lived west of the Hiung-nu, and forced to move further west (160 or 159 B.C.). In 159 B.C. they moved straight on Sogdiana, reaching that land just at the time when internal wars were undermining the might of Eucratides. The conquest, however, may have been gradual, since Bactria is still named as independent in 140 B.C.

Phraates II, who succeeded his father in 138 B.C. and continued his work, wresting Margiana from the Scythians of Bactria in an expedition commemorated on extant coins, had also to meet the last and most formidable attempt to restore the sovereignty of the Seleucids. Antiochus VII, one of the ablest kings of his race, marched eastward at the head of a force of eighty thousand combatants, swollen by camp-followers to a total of three hundred thousand. Many of the small princes, on whom the hand of Parthia lay heavy, joined him as they had joined his brother; the enemy was smitten on the great Zab, and in two other battles; Babylon and then[61] Ecbatana opened their gates to the conqueror; and the subject nations rose against the Parthians, who, when Antiochus took up his winter quarters in Media, were again confined to their ancient limits. When the snows began to melt, an embassy from Phraates appeared to ask for peace; but the terms demanded by Antiochus (the liberation of Demetrius, the surrender of all conquests, and the payment of tribute for the old Parthian country) were such as could not be accepted without another appeal to the fortunes of war. Antiochus was met by the Parthian with a superior force of 120,000 men; he refused the advice of his officers to fall back to the neighbouring mountains, and accepted battle on a field too narrow for the evolution of his troops. The Syriac soldiers, enervated by luxury, were readier to imitate the flight of Athenæus than the valour of his master; the whole host was involved in the rout and annihilated. Antiochus himself escaped wounded from the fray, and cast himself from a rock that he might not be taken alive. This catastrophe (February, 129 B.C.) freed the Parthians forever from danger from Syria.

THE SCYTHIANS RAVAGE PARTHIA

Phraates paid funeral honours to the fallen king, and afterwards sent his body to Syria in a silver coffin. He entertained his captive family royally, married one of the two daughters, and sent the eldest son, Seleucus, to Syria to claim the sovereignty, and to serve future plans of his own; for an attempt to follow and recapture Demetrius, made immediately after the battle, had proved too late. But dangers in the east soon turned the Parthian’s attention away from enterprises in the west. In his distress he had bribed the Scythians to send him help; as they arrived too late he refused to pay them, and they in turn began to ravage the Parthian country. Phraates marched against them, leaving his charge at home to his favourite, the Hyrcanian Euhemerus, who chastised the countries that had sided with Antiochus, made war with Mesene, and treated Babylon and Seleucia with the utmost cruelty. But the Scythian war proved a disastrous one; the enemy overran the whole empire, and for the first time for five hundred years Scythian plunderers again appeared in Mesopotamia; in a decisive battle Phraates was deserted by the old soldiers of Antiochus, whom he had forced into his service and then treated with insolent cruelty; the Parthian host sustained a ruinous defeat, and the king himself was slain in the spring of 128 B.C., or somewhat later.

Artabanus I (third son of Priapatius), who now became king, was an elderly man. The Scythians, according to the too favourable account by our chief authority, were content with their victory, and moved homewards, ravaging the country. But we know from John of Antioch that the successor of Phraates paid them tribute; and the southern part of Drangiana must now have been permanently occupied by the Scythian tribes. Finally,[62] the coins reveal the existence of Arsacids who were rival kings to Artabanus I and Mithridates II, and perhaps borrow from individual successes against the Scythians the proud titles which so strongly contrast with the really wretched condition of the empire. Meanwhile it would appear that the men from Seleucia, driven to desperation, had seized the tyrant Euhemerus and put him to a cruel death. Artabanus, when they sought his pardon, threatened to put out the eyes of every man of Seleucia, and was prevented only by his death, in battle with the Tochari, after a very short reign.

Mithridates II, the Great, his son and successor, was the restorer of the empire. We are briefly told that he valiantly waged many wars with his neighbours, added many nations to the empire, and had several successes against the Scythians, so avenging the disgrace of his predecessors. His successes, however, must have been practically limited to the recovery of lost ground, and the eastern frontier was not advanced. It has been common to connect with his successes the appearance of Parthian names among the Indo-Scythian princes of the Kabul valley; but this must be false. On the other hand, Mithridates, if not the first to conquer Mesopotamia, was the first to fix the Euphrates as the western boundary of the empire, and towards the end of his reign he was strong enough to interfere with the concerns of Great Armenia and place Tigranes II on the throne in a time of disputed succession (94 B.C.), accepting in return the cession of seventy Armenian valleys.

FIRST CONFLICT WITH ROME

Now, too, the Parthians, as lords of Mesopotamia, came for the first time into contact with Rome, and in 92 B.C., when Sulla came to Cappadocia as proprætor of Cilicia, he met on the Euphrates the ambassador of Mithridates seeking the Roman alliance. This embassy was no doubt connected with the Parthian schemes against Syria. Demetrius III, the Seleucid, who reigned at Damascus, was compelled to surrender with his whole army and ended his life as a captive at the Parthian court. Mithridates the Great seems to have died just after this event; there is no reason to suppose that he lived to see the disasters which followed so close on his great successes.

Artabanus II was the next monarch, but after him the title of king of kings was taken by the Armenian Tigranes, one of the most dangerous foes Parthia ever had. In 86 B.C. it was still a reason for choosing Tigranes, as king of part of Syria, that he was in alliance with Parthia; but very soon the latter state was so ruined by civil and foreign war, that it was no match for Armenia. In 77 B.C. the Arsacid Sinatruces took the throne. Tigranes conquered Media, ravaged the country of Arbela and Nineveh, and compelled the cession of Adiabene and Mesopotamia. Phraates III succeeded his father, Sinatruces, after a period of hesitating neutrality, accepted the overtures of Pompey, and prepared to invade Armenia (66 B.C.), guided by the younger Tigranes, who had quarrelled with his father and taken refuge in Parthia, where he wedded the daughter of the king. Tigranes the elder fled to the mountains; and Phraates turned homeward, leaving young Tigranes with part of the army to continue the war. The latter, who alone was no match for his father, fled after an utter defeat to Pompey, who was just preparing to invade Armenia, and to whom the elder Tigranes presently surrendered at discretion. The Roman, however, gave him very good terms, altogether abandoned his son’s cause, and even put him in chains. Meantime Phraates had occupied the Parthian conquests of Tigranes, which the[63] Romans had promised him, and sent an embassy to Pompey to intercede for his son-in-law. But the Romans had no further occasion for Parthian help; and, instead of granting his request, sent Afranius to clear the country and restore it to Tigranes. Immediately afterwards Pompey’s officer marched into Syria through Mesopotamia, which by treaty had been expressly recognised as Parthian; and it was another grievous insult that Pompey in writing to Phraates had withheld from him the title of king of kings. About 57 B.C. Phraates, the restorer of the empire, was murdered by his two sons, one of whom, Orodes or Hyrodes I, took the throne, while his brother Mithridates III got Media; but the latter ruled so cruelly that he was expelled by the Parthian nobles, and Orodes reigned alone.

ORODES DEFEATS THE ROMANS

A Parthian embassy appeared in Syria in the spring to remonstrate against the faithlessness of Rome, but at the same time the Parthians were ready for war. Surenas, with Silaces, satrap of Mesopotamia, was pressing the Roman garrisons, and prepared to confront Crassus with an army wholly composed of cavalry, while Orodes in person invaded Armenia. In the spring of 53 B.C., Crassus and his son Publius crossed the Euphrates at Zeugma with seven legions and eight thousand cavalry and light troops, making up a total of forty-two or forty-three thousand men, and was persuaded by Abgar of Orrhoene to leave the river and march straight across the plains to Surenas. Surenas kept the mass of his troops concealed by a wooded hill, showing only the not very numerous vanguard of cataphracts till the Romans were committed to do battle. The Roman cavalry charged the enemy to prevent a threatening flank movement, and were drawn away from the mass of the army by the favourite Parthian manœuvre of a simulated flight.c

So vivid a picture of the ferocity of this battle is given in Plutarch’s Life of Crassus, that we may well quote it here.a

PLUTARCH’S ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE OF CARRHÆ

The enemies seemed not to the Romans at the first to be so great a number, neither so bravely armed as they thought they had been. For, concerning their great number, Surenas had of purpose hid them, with certain troops he sent before; and to hide their bright armours he had cast cloaks and beasts’ skins upon them, but when both the armies approached near the one to the other, and that the sign to give charge was lift up in the air: first they filled the field with a dreadful noise to hear. For the Parthians do not encourage their men to fight with the sound of a horn, neither with trumpets nor hautboys, but with great kettle-drums hollow within, and about them they hang little bells and copper rings, and with them they all make a noise everywhere together, and it is like a dead sound, mingled as it were with the braying or bellowing of a wild beast, and a fearful noise as if it thundered, knowing that hearing is one of the senses that soonest moves the heart and spirit of any man, and makes him soonest beside himself.

The Romans being put in fear with this dead sound, the Parthians straight threw the clothes and coverings from them that hid their armour, and then showed their bright helmets and cuirasses of Margian tempered[64] steel, that glared like fire, and their horses barbed with steel and copper. The bowmen drew a great strength, and had big strong bows, which sent the arrows from them with a wonderful force. The Romans by means of these bows were in hard state. For if they kept their ranks, they were grievously wounded: again if they left them, and sought to run upon the Parthians to fight at hand with them, they saw they could do them but little hurt, and yet were very likely to take the greater harm themselves. For, as fast as the Romans came upon them, so fast did the Parthians fly from them, and yet in flying continued still their shooting: which no nation but the Scythians could better do than they, being a matter indeed most greatly to their advantage. For by their flight they best did save themselves, and fighting still they thereby shunned the shame that their flying would have brought down upon them.

The Romans still defended themselves, and held it out, so long as they had any hope that the Parthians would leave fighting, when they had spent their arrows or would join battle with them. But after they understood that there were a great number of camels laden with quivers full of arrows, where the first that had bestowed their arrows fetched about to take new quivers: then Crassus, seeing no end of their shot, began to faint, and sent to Publius his son, willing him in any case to charge with desperate power upon the enemies, and to give an onset, before they were compassed in on every side.

But they, seeing him coming, turned straight their horse and fled. Publius Crassus seeing them fly, cried out, “These men will not abide us,” and so spurred on for life after them. They thought all had been won, and that there was no more to do, but to follow the chase: till they were gone far from the army, and then they found the deceit. For the horsemen that fled before them suddenly turned again, and a number of others besides came and set upon them. Whereupon the Romans halted, thinking that the enemies, perceiving they were so few, would come and fight with them hand to hand. Howbeit they set out against them their men at arms with their barbed horse, and made their light horsemen wheel round about them, keeping no order at all: who galloping up and down the plain, whirled up the sand hills from the bottom with their horses’ feet, which raised such a wonderful cloud of dust, that the Romans could scarce see or speak one to another.

For they, being shut up into a little room, and standing close one to another, were sore wounded with the Parthians’ arrows, and died of a cruel lingering death, crying out for anguish and pain they felt: and turning and tormenting themselves upon the sand, they brake the arrows sticking in them. Again, striving by force to pluck out the forked arrow heads, that had pierced far into their bodies through their veins and sinews: thereby they opened their wounds wider, and so cast themselves away. Many of them died thus miserably martyred: and such as died not, were not able to defend themselves.

Then when Publius Crassus prayed and besought them to charge the men at arms with their barbed horse, they showed him their hands fast nailed to their targets with arrows, and their feet likewise shot through and nailed to the ground: so as they could neither fly nor yet defend themselves. Thereupon himself encouraging his horsemen, went and gave a charge, and did valiantly set upon the enemies, but it was with too great disadvantage, both for offence and also for defence. For himself and his men with weak and light staves brake upon them that were armed with cuirasses of steel, or[65] stiff leathern jackets. And the Parthians in contrary manner with mighty strong pikes gave charge upon these Gauls, which were either unarmed or else but lightly armed.

Yet those were they in whom Crassus most trusted, having done wonderful feats of war with them. For they received the Parthians’ pikes in their hands, and took them about their middles, and threw them off their horse, where they lay on the ground, and could not stir for the weight of their harness: and there were divers of them also that, lighting from their horse, lay under their enemies’ horses’ bellies, and thrust their swords into them. Their horse flinging and bounding in the air for very pain threw their masters under feet, and the enemies one upon another, and in the end fell dead among them. Moreover, extreme heat and thirst did marvellously cumber the Gauls, who were used to abide neither: and the most part of their horse were slain, charging with all their power upon the men at arms of the Parthians, and so ran themselves in upon the points of their pikes.

At length, they were driven to retire towards their footmen, and Publius Crassus among them, who was very ill by reason of the wounds he had received. And seeing a sand hill by chance not far from them, they went thither, and setting their horse in the midst of it, compassed it round with their targets, thinking by this means to cover and defend themselves the better from the barbarous people: howbeit they found it contrary. For they that were behind, standing higher, could by no means save themselves, but were all hurt alike, as well the one as the other, bewailing their own misery and misfortune, that must needs die without revenge or declaration of their valiancy. There were two Grecians who counselled P. Crassus to steal away with them. But Publius answered them, that there was no death so cruel as could make him forsake them that died for his sake. When he had so said, wishing them to save themselves, he embraced them, and took his leave of them: and being very sore hurt with the shot of an arrow through one of his hands, commanded one of his gentlemen to thrust him through with a sword, and so turned his side to him for the purpose. It is reported Censorinus did the like. But Megabacchus slew himself with his own hands, and so did the most part of the gentlemen that were of that company.

And for those that were left alive, the Parthians got up the sand hill, and fighting with them, thrust them through with their spears and pikes, and took but five hundred prisoners. After that, they struck off Publius Crassus’ head, and thereupon returned straight to set upon his father Crassus, who was then in this state. Crassus the father, after he had willed his son to charge the enemies, retired the best he could by a hill’s side, looking ever that his son would not be long before he returned from the chase. But Publius seeing himself in danger, had sent divers messengers to his father, to advertise him of his distress, whom the Parthians intercepted and slew by[66] the way: and the last messengers he sent, escaping very hardly, brought Crassus news that his son was but cast away, if he did not presently aid him, and that with a great power. These news were grievous to Crassus in two respects: first for the fear he had, seeing himself in danger to lose all; and secondly for the vehement desire he had to go to his son’s help. Thus he saw in reason all would come to nought, and in fine determined to go with all his power to the rescue of his son.

But in the meantime the enemies were returned from his son’s overthrow, with a more dreadful noise and cry of victory than ever before: and thereupon their deadly sounding drums filled the air with their wonderful noise. The Romans then looked straight for a hot alarm. But the Parthians that brought Publius Crassus’ head upon the point of a lance, coming near to the Romans, showed them his head, and asked them in derision if they knew what house he was of, and who were his parents: for it was not likely (said they) that so noble and valiant a young man should be the son of so cowardly a father as Crassus.

The sight of Publius Crassus’ head killed the Romans’ hearts more than any other danger they had been in at any time in all the battle. For it did not set their hearts on fire as it should have done with anger and desire of revenge: but far otherwise, made them quake for fear, and struck them stark dead to behold it. Yet Crassus’ self showed greater courage in this misfortune than he before had done in all the war beside. For riding by every band he cried out aloud: “Our ancestors in old time lost a thousand ships, yea in Italy divers armies and chieftains for the conquest of Sicilia: yet for all the loss of them, at the length they were victorious over them by whom they were before vanquished. For the empire of Rome came not to that greatness it now is at by good fortune only, but by patience and constant suffering of trouble and adversity, never yielding or giving place unto any danger.”

Crassus, using these persuasions to encourage his soldiers for resolution, found that all his words wrought none effect: but contrarily, after he had commanded them to give the shout of battle, he plainly saw their hearts were done, for their shout rose but faint, and not all alike. The Parthians on the other side, their shout was great, and lustily they rang it out. Now when they came to join, the Parthians’ archers on horseback compassing in the Romans upon the wings shot an infinite number of arrows at their sides. But their men at arms, giving charge upon the front of the Romans, battled with their great lances, compelled them to draw into a narrow room, a few excepted, that valiantly and in desperate manner ran in among them, as men rather desiring so to die than to be slain with their arrows, where they could do the Parthians almost no hurt at all. So were they soon despatched, with the great lances that ran them through, head, wood, and all, with such a force that oftentimes they ran through two at once.

Thus when they had fought the whole day, night drew on, and made them retire, saying they would give Crassus that night’s respite, to lament and bewail his son’s death. So the Parthians, camping hard by the Romans, were in very good hope to overthrow him the next morning. The Romans on the other side had a marvellous ill night, making no reckoning to bury their dead, nor to dress their wounded men, that died in miserable pain; but every man bewailed his hard fortune, when they saw not one of them could escape, if they tarried till the morning. But Crassus went aside without light, and laid him down with his head covered, because he would see no man, showing thereby the common sort an example of unstable fortune;[67] and the wise men, a good learning to know the fruits of ill counsel and vain ambition, that had so much blinded him that he could not be content to command so many thousands of men, but thought (as a man would say) himself the meanest of all, and one that possessed nothing, because he was accounted inferior unto two persons only, Pompey and Cæsar.

Notwithstanding, Octavius, one of his chieftains, and Cassius the treasurer, seeing him so overcome with sorrow and out of heart that he had no life nor spirit in him, they themselves called the captains and centurions together, and sat in council for their departure, and so agreed that there was no longer tarrying for them. Thus of their own authority at the first they made the army march away without any sound of trumpet or other noise.

But immediately after, they that were left hurt and sick, and could not follow, seeing the camp remove, fell a-crying out and tormenting themselves in such sort that they filled the whole camp with sorrow, and put them out of all order with the great moan and loud lamentation; so that the foremost rank that first dislodged fell into a marvellous fear, thinking they had been the enemies that had come and set upon them. Then turning oft, and setting themselves in battle array, one while loading their beasts with the wounded men, another while unloading them again, they were left behind.d

After getting dangerously entangled in marshy ground, Crassus had almost reached the mountains when he was induced, by the despair of his troops rather than by error of his own judgment, to yield to treacherous proposals of Surenas and descend again into the plain. As he mounted the horse which was to convey him to the meeting with the enemy’s general, the gestures of the Parthians excited suspicions of treachery, a struggle ensued, and Crassus was struck down and slain. Scarcely ten thousand out of the whole host reached Syria by way of Armenia; twenty thousand had fallen and ten thousand captives were settled in Antioch, the capital of Margiana.

The token of victory, the hand and head of Crassus, reached Orodes in Armenia just as he had made peace with Artavasdes and betrothed his eldest son Pacorus to the daughter of the Armenian king. The Roman disaster was due primarily to the novelty of the Parthian way of assault, which took them wholly by surprise, and partly also to bad generalship; but the Romans always sought a traitor to account for a defeat, and in the present case they threw the blame partly on Andromachus of Carrhæ, who really did mislead Crassus in his retreat, and was rewarded by the Parthians with the tyranny of his native town, but had no great influence on the disaster; and partly on Abgar, whose advice was no doubt bad, but not necessarily treacherous.

Surenas, the victor of Carrhæ, whose fame was now too great for the condition of a mere subject, was put to death a little later, the victim of Orodes’ jealousy; the victory itself was weakly followed up. Not till 52 B.C. was Syria invaded, and then with forces so weak that Cassius found the defence easy.

Orodes avoided a threatened breach with his son Pacorus, by associating him in the empire; but the Parthians took little advantage of the civil wars that preceded the fall of the Roman Republic. They occasionally stepped in to save the weaker party from utter annihilation, but even this policy was not followed with energy, and Orodes refused to help Pompey in his distress because the Roman would not promise to give him Syria. Labienus was with Orodes negotiating for help on a larger scale when the news of Philippi arrived, and remained with him till 40 B.C., when he was at last sent back to[68] Syria, together with Pacorus and a numerous host. The Roman garrisons in Syria were old troops of Brutus and Cassius, who had been taken over by Antony; those in the region of Apamea joined Labienus; Antony’s legate Decidius Saxa was defeated, and fled from the camp afraid of his own men.

Apamea, Antioch, and all Syria soon fell into the hands of the Parthians, and Decidius was pursued and slain. Pacorus advanced along the great road and received the submission of all the Phœnician cities save Tyre. Simultaneously the satrap Barzaphranes appeared in Galilee; the patriots all over Palestine rose against Phasael and Herod; and five hundred Parthian horse appearing before Jerusalem were enough to overthrow the Roman party and substitute Antigonus for Hyrcanus. The Parthian administration was a favourable contrast to the rule of the oppressive proconsuls, and the justice and clemency of Pacorus won the hearts of the Syrians. Meantime Labienus had penetrated Asia Minor as far as Lydia and Ionia. The Roman governor Plancus could only hold the islands; most of the cities opened their gates to Labienus, the “Parthicus imperator.”

But Rome even in its time of civil divisions was stronger than Parthia; in 39 B.C. Ventidius Bassus, general for Antony, suddenly appeared in Asia and drove Labienus and his provincial levies before him without a battle as far as the Taurus. Here the Parthians came to Labienus’ help, but, attacking rashly and without his co-operation, they were defeated by Ventidius and Labienus’ troops were involved in the disaster; Phranipates, the ablest lieutenant of Pacorus, fell, and the Parthians evacuated Syria. Before Ventidius had completed the resettlement of the Roman power in Syria and Palestine, and while his troops were dispersed in winter quarters, the Parthians fell on him again with a force of more than twenty thousand men and an unusually large proportion of free cavaliers in full armour. A battle was fought near the shrine of Hercules at Gindarus in Cyrrhestica, on the anniversary, it is said, of the defeat of Crassus (9th of June, 38 B.C.); the Parthians were utterly routed and Pacorus himself was slain. His head was sent round to the cities of Syria which were still in revolt, to prove to them that their hopes had failed. There was no further resistance save from Aradus and Jerusalem.

Orodes, now an old man and sorely afflicted by the death of his favourite son, nominated his next son, Phraates, as his colleague, and the latter began to reign by making away with brothers of whom he was jealous, and then strangling his father, who had not concealed his anger at the former crime (37 B.C.). The reign of Orodes was the culminating point of Parthian greatness, and all his successors adopted his title of king of kings, “Arsaces Euergetes.” It was he who moved the capital westward to Seleucia, or rather to Ctesiphon (Taisefún), its eastern suburb.

PHRAATES IV REPELS MARK ANTONY

Phraates IV continued his reign in a series of crimes, murdering every prominent man among his brothers, and even his own adult son, that the nobles might find no Arsacid to lead their discontent. Many of the nobles fled to foreign parts, and Antony felt encouraged to plan a war of vengeance against Parthia. Antony had no hope of forcing the well-guarded Euphrates frontier; but since the death of Pacorus, Armenia had again been brought under Roman patronage, and he hoped to strike a blow at the heart of Parthia. Keeping the Parthians in play by feigned proposals of[69] peace while he matured his preparations, he appeared in Atropatene in 36 B.C. with sixty thousand legionaries and forty thousand cavalry and auxiliary troops, and at once formed the siege of the capital Phraaspa. The Median king Artavasdes, son of Ariobarzanes, had marched to join Phraates, who looked for the attack in another quarter. Phraates had only forty thousand Parthians, including but four hundred freemen who never left the king, and probably ten thousand Median cavalry; but these forces were well handled, and the two kings had reached the scene of war before Antony was joined by his baggage and heavy siege-train, and opened the campaign by capturing the train and cutting to pieces its escort of seventy-five hundred men under the legate Oppius Statianus. Antony was still able to repel a demonstration to relieve Phraaspa; but his provisions ran short, and the foraging parties were so harassed that the siege made no progress. As it was now October, he was at length forced to open negotiations with Phraates.

The Parthians promised peace if the Romans withdrew; but when Antony took him at his word, abandoning the siege-engines, he began a vigorous pursuit, and kept the Romans constantly on the defensive, chastising one officer who hazarded an engagement by a defeat which cost the Romans three thousand killed and five thousand wounded. Still greater were the losses by famine and thirst and dysentery; and the whole force was utterly demoralised and had lost a fourth part of its fighting men, a third of the camp-followers, and all the baggage when, after a retreat of twenty-seven days from Phraaspa to the Araxes by way of Mianeh (276 miles), they reached the Armenian frontier. Eight thousand more perished of cold and from snow-storms in the Armenian mountains; the mortality among the wounded was terrible; the Romans would have been undone had not Artavasdes of Armenia allowed them to winter in his land.

The failure of the expedition was due partly to the usual Roman ignorance of the geographical and climatic conditions, partly to a rash haste in the earlier operations; but very largely also (as in the case of Napoleon’s Russian campaign) to the lack of discipline in the soldiers of the Civil War, which called for very severe chastisement even during the siege of Phraaspa, and culminated at length in frequent desertions and in open mutiny, driving Antony to think of suicide. The Romans laid the whole blame on Artavasdes, but without any adequate reason. At the same time, the disaster of Antony following that of Crassus seemed to show that within their own country the Parthians could not safely be attacked on any side, and for a century and a half Roman cupidity left them alone.

Media and Armenia fell before the Parthians; the Romans who were still in the country were slain, and Artaxes II was raised to the Armenian throne (30 B.C.). In the very next year, however, the course of the Parthian affairs led Artaxes to make his peace with Rome. Phraates’ tyranny had only been aggravated by his successes, and open rebellion broke out in 33 B.C. We have coins of an anonymous pretender dated March to June 32 B.C. To him succeeded Tiridates II, whose rebellion was at a climax during the war of Actium. Phraates was taken by surprise and fled, slaying his concubines that they might not fall a prey to his victor. Tiridates seated himself on the throne in June, 27 B.C., and Phraates wandered for some time in exile till he persuaded the Scythians to undertake his cause. Before the great host of the Scythians Tiridates retired without a contest. In June, 26 B.C., as the coins prove, Phraates again held the throne. In 10 or 9 B.C. Phraates took the precaution of sending his family to Rome so that the rebels might[70] have no Arsacid pretender to put forward, keeping only and designating as heir his youngest son by his favourite wife Thea Musa Urania, an Italian slave girl presented to him by Augustus. This was mainly a scheme of Urania’s, and she and her son crowned it by murdering the old tyrant.

ANARCHY IN PARTHIA

Phraates V, or as he is usually called Phraataces (diminutive), was thus the third Arsacid in successive generations to reach the throne by parricide. Phraates V, whose first coin is of 2 B.C., tried an energetic policy, expelling Artavasdes III, and the Roman troops that supported him from Armenia, and seating on the throne Tigranes IV, who had been a fugitive under Parthian protection. As Augustus did not wish to extend the empire, and Phraates was not very secure on his throne, neither party cared to fight, and an agreement was patched up after some angry words, Phraates resigning all claim on Armenia and leaving his brothers as hostages in Rome (1 A.D.). Phraates now married his mother, a match probably meant to conciliate the clergy, as he knew that the nobles hated him. In fact he was soon driven by a rebellion (after October, 4 A.D.) to flee to Roman soil, where he died, it seems, not long afterwards.

The Parthians called Orodes II from exile to the throne. Of him we have a coin of autumn, 6 A.D.; but his wild and cruel temper soon made him hated, and he was murdered while out hunting. Anarchy and bloodshed now gaining the upper hand, the Parthians sent to Rome (before 9 A.D.), and received thence as king Vonones, the eldest of the sons of Phraates IV, a well-meaning prince, whose foreign education put him quite out of sympathy with his country. A strong reaction of national feeling took place, and the main line of the Arsacids being now exhausted by death or exile, Artabanus, an Arsacid on the mother’s side, who had grown up among the Dahæ and had afterwards been made king of Media (Atropatene), was set up as pretendant in 10 or 11 A.D. Artabanus was defeated at first, but ultimately gained a great and bloody victory and seated himself in Ctesiphon. Vonones fled to Armenia and was chosen as king of that country (16 A.D.); but Tiberius, who was anxious to avoid war, and did not wish to give Artabanus III any pretext to invade Armenia, persuaded Vonones to retire to Syria. Later he was interned in Cilicia, and in 19 A.D. lost his life in an attempt to escape.

Amidst such constant rebellions Artabanus III, shrewd and energetic, not merely held his own but waged successful foreign wars, set his son Arsaces on the throne of Armenia, and challenged Rome still more directly by raising claims to lordship over the Iranian population of Cappadocia. Through the whole first century of the Roman Empire all relations to Parthia turned on the struggle for influence in Armenia, and, much as he loved peace, Tiberius could not suffer this disturbance of the balance of power to pass unnoticed. Much as Artabanus hated the Romans, his insecure position at home drove him in 37 A.D. to make an accommodation on terms favourable to them and send his son Darius as hostage to Tiberius.

In Artabanus’ life-time the second place in the empire had been held by one Gotarzes, who appears to have been his colleague in the upper satrapies, and perhaps his lieutenant in his flight to Adiabene. But there is monumental evidence that he was not, as Josephus says and Tacitus implies, Artabanus’ son (except by adoption), and so we find that the succession first[71] fell to Vardanes, who coined money in September, 40 A.D. But in 41 A.D., Gotarzes gave Vardanes an opportunity to return; in two days he rode 345 miles, and taking his rival by surprise he forced him to flee, and occupied the lower satrapies, where he coined regularly from July, 42 A.D., onwards. The renewal of civil war enabled the emperor Claudius, with the aid of the Iberians, to drive the Parthian satrap Demonax from Armenia and reseat Mithridates on the throne. Meantime Gotarzes and Vardanes were face to face in the plain of western or Parthian Bactria, but an attempt on the life of the latter having been disclosed by his foe they made peace, and Gotarzes withdrew to Hyrcania; while Vardanes, confirmed in his empire, returned to Seleucia and took it in 43 A.D. after a siege of seven years.

That Vardanes was a great king is plain from the high praise of Tacitus and the attention which the greatest of Roman historians bestows on a reign which had no direct relations to Rome. Vardanes, whose last coin is of August, 45 A.D., was murdered while hunting—a victim, we are told, to the hatred produced by his severity to his subjects. But in judging of the charges brought against him and his two predecessors, we must remember that the rise of a new dynasty like that of Artabanus is always accompanied by deeds of violence, and that the oppressed subjects are simply the utterly unruly Parthian nobles who had lost all discipline in the long civil wars, and could only be controlled by force.

Gotarzes died of a sickness, not before June, 51 A.D., and was followed by Vonones II, who had been king in Atropatene, and was probably a brother of Artabanus III. According to the coins his short reign began before September, 51 A.D., and did not end before October, 54 A.D. He was succeeded by his eldest son, Volagases I, the brothers acquiescing in his advancement, although his mother was only a concubine from Miletus; and receiving their compensation by being nominated to kingdoms which gave them the second and third places after the king of kings—Pacorus to Media or Atropatene, and Tiridates to Armenia. The Armenians now offered no resistance to the Parthians, but the Romans were not content to lose their influence in the land. Open war with Rome, however, was still delayed by negotiations. Finally Rome refused to confirm a treaty, and war was declared. The first year of the war (62 A.D.) was unfortunate for the Romans. Next year the war was resumed, and Corbulo, crossing the Euphrates at Melitene, had penetrated into Sophene when the Parthians earnestly sought peace. It was agreed that Tiridates should lay down his diadem and go to Rome in person to receive it again from the emperor, which was done accordingly in 66 A.D. The real advantage of the war lay more with Parthia than with Rome; for if the Roman suzerainty over Armenia was admitted, the Parthians had succeeded, after a contest which had lasted a generation, in placing an Arsacid on the Armenian throne. After Nero’s death Volagases (Vologeses) formed very friendly relations with Vespasian, which endured till 75 A.D.

Volagases I died soon after the Alan wars, leaving a just reputation by his friendly relation to his brothers (a relation so long unknown), his patient steadfastness in foreign war and home troubles, and his foundation of a new capital. Perhaps also he has the merit of collecting from fragments or oral tradition all that remained of the Avesta. From June, 78 A.D., we find two kings coining and reigning together, Volagases II and Pacorus II, probably brothers. From 79 A.D. there is a long break in the coins of the former, and Artabanus IV takes his place with a coin struck in July, 81 A.D. This Artabanus appears as the protector of a certain Terentius Maximus, who pretended to be Nero; he threatened to restore him and displace Titus by[72] force, and though the pretender was at length given up, the farce, which was kept up till 88 A.D., might have ended in earnest but for the disorders of the times—indicated by a break in the Parthian coinage between 84 and 93 A.D., in which latter year Pacorus appears as sole king.

At this time the political horizon of Parthia was very wide, and its intercourse with the farthest East was livelier than at any other date. In 90 A.D. the Yue-chi had come to war with the governor of Chinese Tatary and been reduced to vassalship: in 94 A.D. a Chinese expedition slew their king, and advancing to the “North Sea” (Lake Aral) subdued fifty kingdoms. The Tochari, one sees, like the Greeks before them, had neglected the lands north of the Hindu-Kush in their designs on India; even of Ooemo-Kadphises no coins are found north of that range. In 97 A.D. Chinese envoys directed to Rome actually reached the Mediterranean, but were dissuaded from going further from Parthian accounts of the terrors of the sea voyage; and in 101 A.D. Muon-kiu, king of An-si (Parthians), sent lions and gazelles to the emperor of China. Muon-kiu reigned in Ho-to—i.e., Carta or Zadracarta in Hyrcania; he was therefore a king of the Hyrcanians, who also held the old Parthian lands east of the Caspian Gate, and may be identical with a king, rival to Pacorus, who struck copper coins in 107 and 108 A.D., if the latter is not identical with the later monarch Osroes.

But at any rate the representative of the Parthian power in the West was still Pacorus II, who in 110 A.D. sold the crown of Edessa to Abgar VII, bar Izat, and died soon after, making way for his brother Osroes, who had to reckon with two rivals—Volagases II from 112 A.D. onwards, and Meherdates (Mithridates) VI. The latter was a brother of Osroes, and so probably was the former. None of the three was strong enough to conquer the others, and continual war went on between them till Osroes was foolish enough to provoke Roman intervention by taking Armenia from Exedares, son of Pacorus, to whose appointment Rome had not objected, and transferring it to another son of Pacorus called Parthamasiris.

THE ROMANS INTERVENE

Trajan, who had quite thrown over the principle of the Julii and Flavii (that the Danube and the Euphrates were the boundaries of the empire) and was fully embarked on the old Chauvinist traditions of the republic, would not let such an occasion slip; and refusing an answer to an embassy that met him at Athens, he entered Armenia and took Arsamosata without battle, after receiving the homage of western Armenia (114 A.D.). Parthamasiris submitted himself to the emperor, but Trajan declared that Armenia must be a Roman province, appointed an escort to see the Parthian over the border, and when he resisted and tried to escape ordered his execution—a brutal act, meant to inspire terror and show that the Arsacids should no longer be treated with on equal terms. Armenia and the neighbouring kings to the north having given in their submission, Trajan marched back to Edessa, receiving the homage of Abgar. The campaign of 115 A.D. was in Mesopotamia. At its close Mesopotamia was made a Roman province; the Cardueni and the Marcomedi of the Armenian frontier had also been reduced, and Trajan received the title of “Parthicus.” In 116 A.D. the Tigris was crossed in the face of the enemy, and a third new province of Assyria absorbed the whole kingdom of Mebarsapes. Once more the Tigris was crossed and Babylonia invaded, still without resistance from the Parthians.

[73]

A Roman fleet descended the Euphrates and the ships were conveyed across on rollers to the Tigris, to co-operate with the army; and now Ctesiphon fell and Osroes fled to Armenia, the northeast parts of which cannot have been thoroughly subdued. The Roman fleet descended the Tigris and received the submission of Mesene; but now, while Trajan was engaged in a voyage of reconnaissance in the Persian Gulf, plainly aiming at Bahrein, all the new provinces revolted and destroyed or expelled the Roman garrisons. The rebellion was at length put down, but Trajan now saw what it would cost to maintain direct Roman rule over such wide and distant conquests, and Parthamaspates was solemnly crowned in the great plain by Ctesiphon in the presence of Romans and Parthians (winter of 117 A.D.). An unsuccessful siege of Atra (Hatrá) in the Mesopotamian desert was Trajan’s next undertaking; illness and the revolt of the Jews prevented him from resuming the campaign, and after Trajan’s death (7th of August, 117 A.D.) Hadrian wisely withdrew the garrisons from the new provinces, which would have demanded the constant presence of the imperial armies, and again made the Euphrates the limit of the empire. Parthamaspates, too, had soon to leave Parthia, and Hadrian gave him Orrhoene. Thus Trajan’s Chauvinist policy had no other result than to show to the world the miserable weakness to which discord had reduced the Parthians. Osroes died soon after, and Volagases II became sole monarch, dying in November, 148 A.D., at the age of about ninety-six, after a reign of seventy-one years.

Volagases III, who succeeded, had designs on Armenia, and in 162 A.D. expelled the Arsacid Sohæmus, who was a client of Rome, and made Pacorus king. The destruction of a Roman legion under the legate of Cappadocia (Ælius Severianus), who fell on his own sword, laid Cappadocia and Syria open to the Parthians. When late in the year Ælius Verus arrived from the capital he found the troops so demoralised by defeat that he was ready to offer peace; but when Volagases refused to treat, the able lieutenants whom Verus directed from Antioch soon changed the face of affairs.

The war had two theatres, and was officially called the Armenian and Parthian War. Armenia was regained and Sohæmus restored (163, 164 A.D.), while Avidius Cassius drove Volagases from Syria in a bloody battle at Europus, and entering north Mesopotamia, took Edessa and Nisibis, though not without serious opposition. At length, deserted by his allies (the local kings, who were becoming more and more independent), Volagases abandoned Mesopotamia, and Cassius entered Babylonia, where, on a frivolous pretext, he gave up to rapine and the flames the friendly city of Seleucia, still the first city of the East, with four hundred thousand inhabitants.

The destruction of Seleucia was a hideous crime, a mortal wound dealt to Eastern Hellenism by its natural protectors; that Cassius next, advancing to Ctesiphon, razed the palace of Volagases to the ground may, on the other hand, be defended as a symbolical act calculated more than anything else to impair the prestige of the Parthian with his oriental subjects. Cassius returned to Syria in 165 A.D., with his victorious army much weakened through the failure of the commissariat and by the plague, which, breaking out in Parthia immediately after the fall of Seleucia, spread over the whole known world. In the same year Martius Verus won hardly less considerable successes in Media Atropatene, then apparently a separate kingdom. The peace which followed in 166 A.D. gave Mesopotamia to Rome.

This was the greatest of all wars between Rome and Parthia, alike in the extent of the lands involved and the energy of attack shown by the Parthians. Parthia, after this last effort, continued steadily to decline.

[74]

THE DECAY OF PARTHIAN GREATNESS

The Romans at the same time made an effort to compete with Parthia for the Chinese trade (especially in silk), which the latter had jealously kept in their own hands, and in 166 A.D. an envoy of An-thun (M. Antoninus) reached the court of the emperor Huan-ti, via the sea and Tongking. But the effort to establish a direct trade with China was unavailing, and the trade still flowed in its old channels when a second Roman agent reached China in 226 A.D., a little before the fall of the Parthian Empire. The Chinese tell us that with India also the Parthians drove a considerable trade.

Volagases III died in 191 A.D., having reigned forty-two years without civil war, and was succeeded by Volagases IV, who fought several vain battles with Rome. In 199 A.D. a fleet on the Euphrates co-operated with the Roman army, and Severus, taking up an unaccomplished plan of Trajan, dredged out the old Naarmalca canal, through which his ships sailed into the Tigris, and took the Parthians wholly by surprise. Seleucia and Coche were deserted by their inhabitants; Ctesiphon was taken by the end of the year with terrible slaughter, one hundred thousand inhabitants being led captive and the place given up to pillage, for the Great King had fled powerless at the approach of the foe. Severus, whose force was reduced by famine and dysentery, did not attempt pursuit, but drew off up the Tigris. The army was again in its quarters by the 1st of April, 200 A.D., and for some time thereafter Severus was occupied in Armenia. But in 201 A.D. he undertook a carefully organised expedition against Atra, from whose walls the Romans had been repulsed with great loss when Severus, returning from the Tigris in the previous year, had attempted to carry it by a coup de main. This city, which in Trajan’s time was neither great nor rich, was now a wealthy place, and the sun temple contained vast treasures. The classical authors call it Arabian, but the king’s name is Syriac—Barsenius, i.e., Bar Sín, son of the moon, and we may suppose that it was really an Aramæan principality, which like Palmyra had its strength from the surrounding Arab tribes that it could call into the field. Severus lay before Atra for twenty days, but the enemy’s cavalry cut off his foraging parties, the admirable archers galled the Roman troops, a great part of the siege-train was burned with naphtha; and when, in addition, two assaults had been repulsed with tremendous loss on two successive days, the emperor was compelled to raise the siege—a severe blow to Roman prestige in the East, and one that greatly exalted the name of Atra and its prince, but did not help in the least the decaying power of Parthia.

In 209 A.D. Volagases IV was succeeded by his son Volagases V, under whom in 212 A.D. the fatal troubles in Persia began; while in 213 A.D. his brother Artabanus rose as rival claimant of the kingship, and the civil war lasted for many years. A fresh danger arose when Tiridates, a brother of Volagases IV, who had long been a refugee with the Romans and had accomplished Severus’ campaign of 199 A.D., escaped, in company with a Cilician adventurer, the cynic Antiochus, to the court of his nephew Volagases; for the emperor Antoninus (Caracalla) demanded their surrender, and obtained it only by a declaration of war (215 A.D.). About the same time Artabanus gained the upper hand, and in 216 A.D. he held Ctesiphon and its district; but Volagases still held out in the Greek cities of Babylonia, as his tetradrachms prove (till 222 A.D.). Artabanus’ strength lay in the north; the Arab histories of the Sassanians make him king of the Median region. Presently Artabanus had a war with Rome on his hands. An overwhelming[75] Parthian force fell on Mesopotamia and refused to be appeased by the restoration of the captives of the previous year; Macrinus was beaten in two engagements and compelled to retire to Syria, abandoning the Mesopotamian plain; and in the winter of 217-218 A.D. he was glad to purchase peace for an indemnity of 50,000,000 denarii (£1,774,298 or $8,871,490). In or about 222 A.D. Artabanus must also have displaced his brother in Babylonia.

PERSIA CONQUERS PARTHIA

Persia, which dealt the last blow to the Arsacids, had through the whole Parthian period held an isolated position, and is so seldom mentioned that our knowledge of its history and native princes is almost wholly due to recently found coins. The emblems on the coins show that Persia was always loyally Zoroastrian, and at Istakhr stood the famous Fire temple of the goddess Anahedh. Its priest was Sassan, whose marriage with a Bazrangian princess, Rambehisht, laid the foundation of the greatness of his house, while priestly influence, which was very strong, doubtless favoured its rise. Pabak, son of Sassan, and Ardashir, son of Pabak, begin the history of the Sassanian dynasty, which occupies the next chapter. Artabanus did nothing to check the rise of the new power till Ardashir had all Persia in his hands (224 A.D.) and had begun to erect a palace and temple at Gor (Firuzabad). Nirofar, king of Elymais, was then sent against him, but was defeated, and now Ardashir passed beyond Persia and successively reduced Ispahan (Farætacene), Ahwaz (Elymais), and Mesene.

After this victory Ardashir sent a challenge to Artabanus himself; their armies met by appointment in the plain of Hormizdjan, and Artabanus fell (the 28th of April, 227 A.D.). Ctesiphon and Babylonia must have fallen not much later, though Volagases V seems to have re-established himself there on his brother’s death, and a tetradrachm shows that he held the city till autumn 227 A.D. The conquest of Assyria and great part of Media and Parthia is assigned by Dion expressly or by implication to the year 228 A.D. And so the Parthian Empire was at an end.c

FOOTNOTES

---

[76]

CHAPTER II. THE EMPIRE OF THE SASSANIDS

Of the countries whose sovereigns were subject to the dominion (sometimes actual and sometimes merely nominal) of the Parthian “king of kings,” Persia proper itself was one. The names of some of the lesser kings of that country during the Arsacid period are known to us, partly through a reference here and there in literature, partly from their coins; but we do not know whether they all belong to one and the same dynasty. About the beginning of the third century after Christ, the country presented a scene of confusion. The power of the local kings had fallen very low, and the mountainous regions, cleft asunder by natural divisions, were full of petty tyrants. Papak or Pabak, a son or descendant of Sassan, was one of these. He came originally from the village of Khir on the southern shore of the great salt lake east of Shiraz, and succeeded in overthrowing the last prince of that dynasty, Gozihr by name, in whose service he had been, and gaining dominion first over the district of Istakhr, the ancient Persepolis. On coins and inscriptions his son gives him the title of king. According to tradition, which in this instance is certainly trustworthy, his lawful successor would have been his son Sapor, to whom the Arsacid king is said to have granted the crown at his father’s request during the life-time of the latter.

After his death, however, another of his sons, named Ardashir, refused to submit to his brother, and rose in revolt; about which time Sapor died—we can hardly suppose by accident. That Ardashir found his brothers in his way and slew them, is so definitely affirmed by well authenticated tradition that we cannot entertain a doubt that such was the case. The empire of the Sassanids begins with Ardashir, just as that of the Achæmenides begins with Cyrus, whose forefathers had likewise been kings. His name, of which Artachshathr is the older form, is the same as that which the Greeks rendered by Artaxerxes. It is a remarkable fact that in the native home of the Achæmenides, who are otherwise unknown to genuine Persian tradition, the ancient[77] royal names should have survived in common use; for several princes of the pre-Sassanid period were named Artaxerxes and Darius (Darjaw, Darao, Dara). According to a fairly probable estimate, Ardashir’s first appearance as king should be assigned to the year 211-12 A.D.

That he had hard work to exalt himself from prince of Persis to “king of the kings of Iran” is recognised by tradition. He first made himself master of the province of Carmania, which lies east of Persis, then of Susiana, then of the small kingdom about the mouth of the Tigris. The resistance which he had to overcome in the first instance was offered by local sovereigns, not by the Parthian king, whose power was restricted to an enormous extent by his nobles and vassals. Ultimately, however, Ardashir came into conflict with him also.

According to Dion Cassius,c a contemporary, we are led to believe that Ardashir defeated the Parthians in three battles. His decisive encounter with Ardavan (Artabanus), the last Parthian Great King, probably took place on April 22nd, 224 A.D.[30] Ardavan fell in the battle, and from that time forward Ardashir assumed the title of “king of kings,” which from ancient days had been borne by the ruler of the empire of anterior Asia. All the evidence points to the decisive battle having taken place in Babylonia or Susiana. This would fit in with Dion’s statement that the first expedition afterwards undertaken was directed against Atra, in the midst of the Mesopotamian desert, where a small independent state had come into being in the near neighbourhood of the Parthian capital. At first Ardashir beat in vain upon the walls of Atra, whose strength can still be seen from the mighty ruins that remain, but the place was soon taken and destroyed either by him or his successor. He succeeded in conquering Media, where he was opposed by a scion of the Arsacid family, and the greater part of the Iranian highlands; but not Armenia, whither sons of Ardavan had fled.

The Romans had watched the rise of Ardashir with apprehension. There is no question that he cherished the design of seizing upon as many of their Asiatic possessions as he could. He gained some successes at first, but was forced to give ground when Alexander Severus marched against him. The history of the empire of the Sassanids was conditioned from the outset by its relations with Rome. Peace was again and again concluded between the two, but they invariably looked upon each other as adversaries, and as adversaries of equal rank. Under capable rulers and tolerable internal conditions Rome (that is Byzantium) maintained the ascendency of the European over the Asiatic, but circumstances were frequently adverse, and the Persians heaped disgrace upon the Roman name. This struggle fills the chief place in the political history of the Sassanids.

SASSANIAN POWER

Istakhr remained the capital in theory, as Persepolis had formerly been. There stood the Fire temple of the royal house, in which the heads of vanquished foreign kings were hung up among other trophies. But the real metropolis was Ctesiphon, the capital of the Arsacids, and Seleucia, which was divided from it only by the Tigris and which Ardashir restored under the name of Veh-Ardashir (good Ardashir). The rich country in which this double city lay was neither geographically nor ethnographically a part of[78] Iran, for the deep valley was peopled principally by Semites; the choice of it as the seat of government was due to the precedent set by the elder empire and in part, probably, to its nearness to Roman territory. We cannot in all cases be sure over which countries Ardashir ruled at the end of his life, for the national tradition tells of some conquests really made by his successors, and others which the Sassanids never made at all. But Ardashir won and consolidated a great empire that held together for four centuries, giving a powerful blow to the system of vassal states, which had become more and more prevalent under the Arsacids, and reducing most of these states to provinces.

SAPOR FIGHTS ROME

The statement that he associated his son Sapor with him in the government gains a degree of confirmation from the existence of coins bearing a youthful head beside his own. He died at the end of 241 or the beginning of 242. Sapor I (older form Shahpur; among Occidentals Sapor or Sapores) was in all likelihood solemnly crowned on March 20th, 242. The mythical statement that his mother was an Arcadian princess whom Ardashir took to wife at the conquest of Ctesiphon is incompatible with the probably more correct tradition that he had distinguished himself in the decisive battle against Ardavan; nor is it likely that a child of thirteen or fourteen would have taken so energetically in hand the war against Rome. For Ardashir had resumed the struggle in his later years (in the reign of Maximin, between February, 236, and about May, 238), and had taken Nisibis (Nesibin) and Carrhæ (Haran), the two fortresses round which so many battles were fought in the course of these wars.

In 242 Sapor had pressed forward to Antioch; but there he was met by the emperor Gordian, and the latter, or rather his father-in-law Timesitheus, drove him back and retook the two Mesopotamian strongholds. He defeated the Persians at Reshaina, and purposed to march upon the Persian capital. Like Julian after him, he chose the way along the Euphrates; and somewhat below the junction of the Chaboras with the Euphrates, nearly on the frontier between the two empires, Gordian was slain by the commander of the guard, Philip the Arab (beginning of 244). The murderer had himself proclaimed emperor and hastily concluded a shameful peace with Sapor, by which he is said to have resigned Armenia and Mesopotamia to him.

There seems then to have been a breathing space of several years, but in 251 or 252 Sapor made a fresh beginning. This time he really occupied Armenia, which he had not been able to conquer before, and forced the king to take refuge in Roman territory. From the isolated and contradictory rumours that have come down to us we can hardly gather how many times the Persians invaded Syria during this period. Nothing but the frightful decrepitude of Rome could have rendered such a thing possible. On one occasion Cyriades, a Syrian, led the Persians right to Antioch, and under their protection assumed the title of emperor! At last the emperor Valerian marched against them. For a while the war was waged on Mesopotamian soil, but fortune turned against the Romans in the end; and the bitterest of all humiliations befell them, for the emperor himself was taken prisoner by Sapor (260). Under what circumstances this came to pass we cannot tell; it was certainly preceded by negotiations in which Valerian vainly tried to secure an unmolested retreat for himself and his army on payment of a sum of money. The Romans laid the blame of it on treachery or breach of faith.

[79]

THE WAR WITH PALMYRA

After taking Valerian captive, Sapor pressed on towards Asia Minor, but there was met by successful resistance. Many Persians were slaughtered by Ballista, the Roman general. But the heaviest blow was dealt to the king by the hand of a romanised Oriental. Odenathus (Odhenat), the chieftain of the great trading city of Palmyra in the heart of the Syrian desert, is said to have offered to enter into alliance with him, and to have been completely repulsed. This is quite possible, for though Palmyra was a part of the Roman Empire, yet since the emperor was a prisoner and Rome’s dominion over the East was apparently broken, an ambitious Oriental might easily have conceived the idea of playing an independent part as an ally of the Great King. However that may be, Odenathus, on the watch for a favourable place and opportunity, joined forces with Ballista, attacked the Persians on their retreat, and inflicted a severe defeat upon them. Part of the royal harem fell into his hands, and he even besieged Ctesiphon once, if not twice.

Towards the end of Sapor’s reign a great change took place in the oriental dominions of Rome. He appears to have supported Zenobia, the widow of Odenathus, against Rome, though without lasting success. By the time the emperor took Palmyra (273) and restored Roman supremacy over those regions, Sapor was presumably already dead.

His son Hormuzd (Ohrmazd) I began to reign at the end of 272 or 273. As a prince he appears to have fought gallantly against the Romans, and is known to tradition by the surname of “the hero.” Among other legends of all kinds he is said to have been satrap of Khorasan (which included all the northeastern provinces) before his accession. As a king he had hardly a chance of doing great deeds, for he reigned only one year.

According to the evidence of an inscription, his successor Bahram (Varahran) I was not his son, as tradition has it, but his brother. He is reported to have been an indolent and voluptuous sovereign. Manes ventured to approach him, but by the machinations of the priests of Zoroaster he was slain and his skin was stuffed and hung up to public view. Bahram I reigned from about 274 to about 277.

Of his son, Bahram II (about 277-294), Persian tradition knows practically nothing. Two large rock inscriptions, unfortunately much defaced, probably date from his reign; they are religious, even hortatory in substance, and strongly hierarchical in tendency. The emperor Probus (276-282) concluded a peace with him on one occasion; of the struggles which preceded it we have no knowledge. Probus himself was assassinated before he could resume hostilities, but Carus carried out his design (283), advanced to the very capital of the enemy’s empire, and took Ctesiphon and Coche (a part of Seleucia). The sudden death of the emperor, who is said to have been struck by a flash of lightning, wrought deliverance for the Persians, for after it the Romans appear to have withdrawn without much fighting. It is expressly stated that the arms of Carus were favoured by civil broils among the Persians. Of such the period was undoubtedly prolific, but we have no exact information on the subject. In the year 291 a rhetorician referred to the revolt of Prince Hormuzd (Ormies) against his brother the king, in conjunction with barbarian tribes.

The youthful son whom Bahram II caused to be figured opposite his consort upon his coins probably never came to the throne. It seems likely that after his death two claimants fought for the succession, Bahram III, presumably a son of Hormuzd, and Narseh, according to an inscription the son[80] of Sapor I. At all events Bahram III, who as prince had been satrap of Sakenland (Sagastan, now Sistan) in the southeast of the empire, and consequently bore the surname of Sagan Shah (Saken-king), reigned, or at least held possession of the capital, for a very short time only.

Narseh reigned about 293-303. He trod in the footsteps of Sapor, and conquered Armenia. Cæsar Galerius took the field against him (probably in 297) but was defeated in Mesopotamia, between Carrhæ and Callinicus (Rakka). Under the wise direction of Diocletian, however, Galerius soon restored the lustre of the Roman arms. He completely overthrew Narseh in Armenia and took his wives and children prisoners. The negotiations for peace, concerning which we have somewhat more definite information, ended in a brilliant triumph; for Persia resigned all pretensions to Armenia and Mesopotamia, and even ceded certain districts on the left of the Tigris, extending as far as Kurdistan. The king willingly gave up the provinces in return for the restoration of his family. This peace (dating from 298) lasted for forty years. Narseh was succeeded by his son Hormuzd II (about 303). Of his reign we know nothing.

After his death his son Adharnarseh ascended the throne (beginning of 310), but after a very short time was deposed—on account of his cruelty it is said—and probably slain. The nobles, who then had the power in their own hands, disqualified for rule another (unnamed) son of Hormuzd II by putting out his eyes, and flung Hormuzd, the third son, into prison. They then nominated for the kingship the newborn or still unborn son of the queen Ifra—Hormuzd. All these events took place in the course of the year 310. The royal infant was named Sapor II, oppressor of Christians.

The state of things under the rule of his mother and the great nobles may easily be imagined. But the child developed early into a man capable of governing alone; he was one of the most famous sovereigns of the dynasty. Before he had grown to manhood Hormuzd escaped from captivity and fled to the Romans (323), amongst whom he remained till his death, fighting with them against Sapor, his half-brother, down to the year 363. Persian tradition, which has little of a historical nature to tell of Sapor II, gives us accounts of his adventurous campaigns against the Arabs, who had occupied or devastated various parts of Persian territory during his minority. These legends are highly exaggerated, not without an anti-Arab intention; but there can be no doubt that Sapor zealously devoted himself to the task of keeping the rapacious Bedouins out of civilised regions—a very serious problem for the rulers of countries bordering on the desert. The restoration of the ancient city of Susa is notable amongst the cities which he founded. The inhabitants had rebelled against him, and in retaliation he had them put to death and their city trodden into the dust by elephants; after which he built it afresh. Nishapur (properly Nev-Shahpuhr), one of the largest cities of the East down to late mediæval times, was founded either by him or by Sapor I.

During Sapor’s youth the mighty change had taken place by which Constantine procured for Christianity the victory over paganism in the Roman Empire. The Christians in the Persian Empire immediately recognised in Rome the Christian state par excellence, and were strongly disposed in its favour. When Sapor went to war with the Romans (337 or 338) they openly displayed their own sentiments; at least a homily of Aphraates, a Syrian bishop in the Persian Empire, written about this time, speaks on the subject in no ambiguous tone. In addition to this, Simon, bishop of the capital, indulged in such defiant utterances as no oriental monarch was likely[81] to let pass, least of all a young and energetic sovereign like Sapor II. It was the signal for conflict, and a frightful persecution of the Christians began almost simultaneously with the Roman War (339-40). We have an animated picture of these events in the Syrian Acts of the Martyrs, which throw much light on other things and persons in the empire. The king was not actuated by religious fanaticism. The Jews were as obnoxious to his priests as the Christians, but he left them unmolested. Even in the Acts of the Martyrs he repeatedly appears as a man wholly without bias in purely religious matters. But, like Diocletian, he wished to annihilate that state within the state—the organisation of the church; and he therefore destroyed church buildings and took the most vigorous measures against both the superior and the inferior clergy.

A NEW WAR WITH ROME

According to Roman assertions, the Persians began the war by an invasion of Mesopotamia. Constantine died before he could take the field against them (the 22nd of May, 337). But the king’s great preparations date from the year which begins with the autumn of 337. On the first and longer half of the war, which lasted with many vicissitudes and long pauses for twenty-five years, our information is but scanty. On parts of the second, on the contrary, we possess very full reports by contemporaries and even eye-witnesses. The king’s object was to deprive the Romans of their possessions on the upper Tigris, where it must have been exceedingly inconvenient for the Persians to have them on account of their nearness to Ctesiphon. Above all, he aimed at taking the strong fortress of Nisibis; and he further desired to bring Armenia, that old apple of discord between the Eastern and Western empires, into subjection to himself once more. Three times he closely besieged Nisibis (in the years 338, 346, and 350), but in vain. Sieges, on the whole, play a very great part in this war.

If Sapor did not in the long run succeed in gaining great advantages, it was through no merit of the emperor Constantine, who was invariably defeated when he took command in person, as, for example, in the famous battle by night at Singara (Shingar, Arabic Sinjar) (348 A.D.). The main reason was that the great emperors Diocletian and Constantine had put the fortresses into admirable condition and taken other excellent measures for the protection of the provinces exposed to attack. It was a great thing gained that the Persians, even when victorious, could hardly penetrate into western Mesopotamia. Moreover the king’s forces were not large enough for him to leave garrisons in all the fortresses which he took. Thus in 360 Amida (Amid), which Sapor had taken after a long siege and with heavy loss in the previous year, was found by the Romans unoccupied. The Romans were also favoured by the circumstance that the king was at the same time engaged in conflict with several barbarous tribes. The third siege of Nisibis had almost come to a successful conclusion when he was obliged suddenly to depart to Khorasan, where his presence was urgently required.

The wars in the East brought about a long truce (from 350 to 358), interrupted only by small predatory excursions. But by the time negotiations were opened on the Roman side (356-358) Sapor had concluded peace with his enemies in the East, and offered terms which it was quite impossible to accept. In 359 and 360 hostilities were resumed with energy, and Sapor took several important fortresses. Another interval of repose ensued; but in 363 a change came over the whole conduct of the war.

[82]

Vigorous, ambitious, and proved in arms, Julian, now sole emperor, determined to follow the example of Trajan, Septimius Severus, and Carus, and march straight upon the enemy’s capital. On the 5th of March he left Antioch, went first to Mesopotamia, and thence proceeded rapidly down the Euphrates. He ravaged Persian territory with fire and sword, took several cities after a short siege, among them Mahoz Malka, one of the royal cities close to Ctesiphon. He even reached Seleucia; but realising that he was not able to take the strongly fortified city of Ctesiphon on the far side of the Tigris by storm, he turned to retreat along the left bank of the river. Here for the first time Sapor’s troops began to annoy him seriously. None the less he would certainly have led the army back into Roman territory without heavy loss, but he was mortally wounded in an engagement on the 26th of June, 363.

Jovian, who was chosen emperor by the army after Julian’s death, was by no means equal to the difficult position in which he found himself, and conducted both the war and the negotiations in such a manner as ultimately to bring about a shameful peace. After the death of his dreaded enemy, Sapor behaved with equal adroitness and moderation. He obtained the retrocession of the districts to the left of the Tigris, which Galerius had won, and part of Mesopotamia, including Nisibis and Singara. The Romans with much difficulty secured permission for the inhabitants of these cities to depart elsewhere. The cession of Nisibis was the heaviest blow of all, for in all subsequent wars it was a strong point of departure to the Persians for offensive and defensive purposes.

More shameful even than these cessions was the stipulation that the Romans should withdraw their support from King Arsaces of Armenia, who had sided with them and given him up to Sapor. The king, however, did not find Armenia easy to conquer. He got Arsaces into his power, but that did not give him possession, still less permanent possession, of the country, split up as it was by many natural divisions and ruled by numerous and almost independent feudal lords. The Christians of Armenia inclined in the main to the Romans; the Zoroastrians, of whom there were still large numbers, to the Persians; while the varying private interests of the great barons, who would have preferred to have no master over them, constituted a third factor in the situation. The Romans supported, first secretly and then openly, Papa, the son of Arsaces, who had taken refuge with them, but only that they might use him as a tool to convert Armenia into a Roman province. In Iberia (north of Armenia) the adherents of the two empires likewise came into collision. At the end of five years the country was practically once more in a state of war. In 371 the Persian king came to open hostilities with the Roman troops in Armenia, both parties trying to acquire the country by force or fraud. But however often the negotiations between them came to naught, the pressure of circumstances (in the case of the Romans, the troubles with the Goths) and the dictates of reason prevented the outbreak of a general war.

ARDASHIR II TO BAHRAM IV

Sapor II, who by even late tradition is held in honour as a mighty king, died towards the end of the summer of 379, and was succeeded by his brother, Ardashir II. The elevation of this old man to the throne may have been due to the same kind of motives as had prompted the coronation of the infant Sapor. As prince-satrap of Adiabene (a part of ancient Assyria) he had taken an active part in the suppression of Christianity as long before as[83] 344, and again in 376. After his accession, however, the persecution ceased, perhaps by deliberate intention, perhaps out of mere oriental indolence. Even the capital could have its bishop again. But, having taken forcible action against the great nobles and put several of them to death, Ardashir was deposed by them in 383 or 384.

His successor, Sapor III, the son of Sapor II, had no sooner ascended the throne than he despatched ambassadors to Constantinople, and there concluded a settled peace (384). He reigned only a short time, being murdered by the nobles in 388 or 389.

His son (or possibly brother) and successor, Bahram IV, who bore the surname of Kerman Shah, “king of Carmania,” because as prince he had ruled that province, remained on friendly terms with the Romans and was clement towards the Christians. In 390 the two empires divided Armenia between them by treaty, in such a manner that by far the greater part became a vassal state to Persia and the remainder to Rome. There were many complications still to come, but this division nevertheless remained in force down to Arab times. Bahram IV also died a violent death, being slain by the arrows of “evil-doers,” in the summer of 399.

THE RULE OF YEZDEGERD I

His successor, Yezdegerd I, a son of Sapor II or Sapor III, seemed to have been designated as heir to the throne or otherwise invested with some sovereign dignity even during the life-time of Bahram IV, for his name appears on coins in conjunction with the king’s.

For all that he was far from being a Christian, and did not scruple to visit with severe chastisement the blind zeal which led Bishop Abda of Susiana to violate Zoroastrian sanctuaries. But the measure of toleration which he extended to Christianity was enough to rouse the hatred of the Persian priesthood, while the warlike nobility were probably ill pleased by his earnest desire to maintain peace with Rome. In the summer of 408 he concluded a firm treaty of peace and alliance, by which he seems to have undertaken a formal guarantee for the reign of the emperor Theodosius II, then a minor. He set a trustworthy vassal king over Persian Armenia in the person of his son Sapor. We have every reason to regard him as a skilful ruler for his time and country. But he was not well pleasing to the god of Persia. Wherefore he caused him to die suddenly in marvellous wise in far Hyrcania. We prosaically interpret this miracle to mean that he was murdered by the despotic nobles (probably late in the summer of 420); even as his three predecessors had been violently deprived of their sovereignty, and two of them murdered.

After his death, his son Sapor hastened from Armenia to the capital, no doubt intending to become king of the empire, but was murdered by the great nobles, for the latter were so exasperated against Yezdegerd that they resolved to exclude his sons from the succession. They chose a distant relative of his, Chosroes by name, to be their king. But another son of Yezdegerd, Bahram by name, contested his claim to the throne. During his father’s life-time this son had lived, presumably in a sort of banishment, with al-Mundhir (Alamundaros) the Arab king of Hira (west of the Euphrates and on the borders of the desert), a powerful vassal king. The latter supported Bahram’s pretensions with all his might, and this is probably the first time that the Arabs effectively interfered in the course of Persian history.

[84]

THE ARABS AID IN WAR WITH ROME

Mundhir, with vast hordes of Arabs behind him, was soon at the gates of the capital, which lay only three or four days’ journey distant from Hira, and no doubt the rightful heir to the throne could count upon a party among the Persians. A compromise was therefore effected between the disputants, Chosroes withdrew his claim, and Bahram ascended the throne, but under promise to rule differently from his father and to do the will of the nobles and priests. Bahram V, who bears the surname of Gor, “the wild ass,” is a favourite with Persian tradition, which tells absolutely fabulous stories of him. He was young when he became king, and to the end of his days he was jovial and much addicted to women. The change of policy was immediately signalised by two things—the outbreak of a systematic persecution of the Christians, and a war with Rome. Both sides could easily find pretexts for war, but it is most likely that the Persian nobles urged it on; the Romans would certainly not have entered on the struggle merely on account of the persecution.

The main theatre of war was in Persian Mesopotamia and the mountain tracts that bounded it on the north. The Persian commander was Mihr Narseh, one of the most powerful nobles. A vainglorious Persian tradition relates that he made a victorious entry into Constantinople, but we know that, on the contrary, he suffered a severe defeat at the very beginning of the war (August, 421). The Romans besieged Nisibis for a long time, but the approach of a fresh force compelled them hastily to raise the siege. Mundhir, to whom Bahram owed his throne, was eager to devastate Syria with his Arabs, but was forced to retreat with great loss. The war, concerning the progress of which we have no adequate information, enfeebled both sides to such an extent that they quickly became anxious to end it. In the terms of peace (422) the Persians promised to allow the Christians the free exercise of their religion, and the Romans undertook to do likewise to the Zoroastrians.

The desire of the Persians for peace was most likely due to the fact that they were again involved in warfare with the rulers of the Bactria of that day and the neighbouring countries, the tribe of the Kushan, Haital (Hephthalites), or “white Huns.” To this perpetual conflict the Romans probably owed their rest from Persian invasion in the fifth century. We are not bound to take the word of Persian tradition for Bahram’s brilliant victory over the Hephthalites.

In Persian Armenia yearnings after independence had asserted themselves during the war with Rome, but when peace was concluded Bahram could again install a vassal king there; the selfish Armenian nobles, however, went to such lengths that the Persians were finally driven to do away with the Armenian monarchy altogether and to convert the country into a province (429), as the Romans had long since done with their portion of it. In this the Persians had the assistance of a strong party among the Armenians themselves, though as a matter of fact the Persian satraps had no less trouble with the barons and priests than with the kings before them.

After the death of Bahram (438 or 439) his son Yezdegerd II became king. He persecuted both Christians and Jews, nor is there much to be set to his credit in other respects. He abolished the audiences, on the first day of every month, in which any man of consequence was free to lay grievances or petitions before the king. The story goes that he married his own daughter (though that was no crime in the opinion of the Zoroastrians, who considered such marriages positively meritorious) and afterwards killed her.

[85]

WAR WITH THE HEPHTHALITES

Upon the death of Yezdegerd II (457) a quarrel seems to have broken out immediately between his sons, Hormuzd III, king (that is to say, “prince-satrap”) of Sagastan, and Peroz, who were the children of one mother, Dinak by name. Hormuzd, the elder, held his ground for a while, but at the end of two years Peroz supplanted him by the help of the Hephthalites and the active exertions of Raham, of the noble house of Mihran. He caused three others of his nearest kinsmen to be put to death, as well as his brother. He, again, was hostile to Christians and Jews, but he had political insight enough to favour the conversion of his Christian subjects to the doctrines of Nestorius, which had been banished as archheresy from the Roman Empire. At the synod held at Beth Lapat in the year 483 or 484, the ancient Christian church of the Persian Empire adopted the Nestorian confession; and being thenceforward separated by a great gulf from the Roman Christians, was consequently even less dangerous to the state than it had been before.

But, as a matter of fact, Christianity in Persia had never been really much of a menace to the country. The Armenians on the other hand joined the monophysites, who had a large party in the Roman Empire and often had the upper hand there.

Whether the Hephthalites wanted heavier payment for their assistance than had been previously agreed upon, or whether Peroz did not keep promises he had actually made, the end was that great conflicts ensued between them and the Persians. Peroz won some victories; but in the desert country east of the Caspian Sea the conduct of war is hampered by enormous difficulties. Twice he was compelled to conclude peace on unfavourable terms, once at least he himself fell into the hands of his enemies, and for two years his son Kavadh had to remain in the enemy’s camp as a hostage for the payment of his heavy ransom. Nevertheless Peroz was perpetually breaking the pledges he had given. In 484 he took the field with a large army. A tremendous battle ensued, in which Peroz perished among the unrecognised slain. His daughter was among the prisoners, and the king of the Hephthalites took her into his harem.

Evil days were now in store for Persia. The victors overran the country. For a time there was no king. Presently, however, Zarmihr, of the powerful house of the Karen, succeeded in restoring order in the empire. At the time of Peroz’s death this man had been in Armenia, which had rebelled again, and had almost completed its subjugation. He then hastened to the capital and installed Balash, a brother of the late ruler, as king. In all probability he afterward entered into negotiations with the victorious enemy, and bought him off with a yearly tribute.

A brother of Balash, Zareh by name, who likewise aspired to the crown, was defeated and slain. The king, however, had but little authority. He was obliged to induce the Armenians to submit by allowing them to exclude the state religion of Persia from their country altogether. The praise which the Syrians and the Armenians render to Balash’s clemency may perhaps have no other foundation than his disagreements with the priests of Zoroaster. The enmity thus aroused proved fatal to him. His treasury, of course, was empty, so that he could neither form a party among the nobles nor attach an army to himself; and in 488 or 489 the priests went so far as to have him blinded and so made incapable of governing. For according to the law of Persia no man could be king who was not whole and sound in body and mind.

[86]

KAVADH I

His nephew, Kavadh I, the son of Peroz, was set in his place. He found the empire in a state of great disorder. We hear of revolts of savage mountain tribes, and of another rebellion in Armenia. Kavadh, who had no inclination to play the obedient servant to the tyrants who had raised him to the throne, adopted a dangerous method of weakening the power of priests and nobles; for he favoured Mazdak, a zealous preacher of religious-socialistic doctrines, who demanded in the name of justice that he who was blest with riches and possessed of many wives should give of his superfluity to those who were in want. Nor did he rest satisfied with the theory, for many of his disciples distributed their wives and goods. But the nobles and clergy united to depose Kavadh, imprisoned him in the “castle of oblivion,” and bestowed the crown on his brother Jamasp (about 496). Kavadh, however, escaped, and fled to the Hephthalites, among whom he had formerly lived as a hostage. The king gave him his daughter to wife, the child of that sister of Kavadh who had been taken in battle; and by the help of the barbarian prince he succeeded in overthrowing Jamasp and once more becoming king of Persia (498 or 499). His flight and restoration appear to have been favoured by some of the most powerful nobles. According to Persian tradition Zarmihr actually accompanied him into exile, but such testimony as we have concerning this man and the flight to the Hephthalites is so confused that we can place no reliance upon it. Certain it is that after his return the king visited his enemies with severe chastisement. Presumably he abandoned Zarmihr about that time, for he handed him over to his most formidable rival, Sapor, of the house of Mihran. It is not likely that Kavadh then resumed his experiment with the Mazdakites.

NEW CONFLICT WITH ROME

He had certainly reduced the empire to tolerable order by the time the war with the Romans began. There had been much treating over terms, both parties had violated compacts more or less, and the only question was whether either of them was desirous of finding a casus belli. This was the case with Kavadh. In the summer of 502 he inaugurated that era of hideous strife which so reduced the strength of both Persia and Eastern Rome as to make possible the subsequent victories of the Arabs. In August he took Theodosiopolis (Karin or Erzerum), the capital of Roman Armenia, without a blow. On the 10th of January, 503, Amida fell after a three months’ siege, and was frightfully punished for its resistance. Myriads of the inhabitants were slaughtered, as we know from the good accounts we have in existing contemporary Syrian sources.

In this war, of which very full contemporary accounts have come down to us, especially from Syrian sources, the Roman operations were conducted without the necessary energy, and lacked the direction of a single commander. Mesopotamia was fearfully ravaged. In 504 the Romans regained possession of Amida, after a long siege, by treaty, or more correctly speaking by purchase. After many battles and sieges peace was concluded in the August of 506, a peace which left everything in statu quo ante. The Romans once more undertook to pay an annual contribution towards the maintenance of the fortifications in the Caucasus. The Persians are said to have been induced to conclude peace by a war with the “Huns.”

[87]

From the vague fashion in which the Greek authors of that time use the word “Huns” we cannot tell which of the tribes of northern barbarians is here meant. That Kavadh was at this time involved in serious difficulties at home or abroad may be inferred from the fact that he did not forcibly prevent a gross violation of the treaty of peace on the part of the emperor Anastasius, who converted the little village of Dara, close upon the frontier, into a great fortress intended to keep Nisibis in check. There was no further outbreak of hostilities during the life-time of Anastasius; but Justin I (July the 9th, 518-August the 1st, 527) appears to have intermitted the payment of the moneys stipulated to Persia.

In return Kavadh incited the Arabs to make predatory raids into Roman territory, and Roman troops once more invaded and ravaged Armenia. In addition, violent quarrels arose about the Caucaso-Pontic districts, over which both sides claimed dominion. This time, however, Kavadh was little disposed towards war; perhaps he had realised that he could hardly hope to gain any permanent advantage. In the perpetual renewal of negotiations he had only one main object in view; he was anxious to procure the succession for Chosroes, the best beloved of his sons and certainly the most capable of ruling the empire, although he was not the eldest; and for this purpose he wished for a kind of guarantee from the emperor, which should take the form of an adoption of Chosroes by the latter. Negotiations concerning this and other matters were carried on at Nisibis. If matters went as they are represented to have gone, the Romans acted most perversely; in any case the negotiations had no other result than to put both parties out of humour. The chiefs of the Roman embassy escaped with no worse than degradation, the Persians were executed, though personally they deserved well of the king. These negotiations took place in 525 or 526; the war began again before the death of Justin. There was hard fighting on the frontier as early as the summer of 527, the Romans making a vain assault on Nisibis, and the Persians an equally fruitless attempt on Dara.

EXPLOITS OF MUNDHIR

In these many years of war, with frequent pauses for negotiation, Belisarius first comes into prominence as a commander. One noteworthy event, among others, is Mundhir’s great invasion of Syria. This Mundhir was the Arab vassal-prince of Hira, of the same line as the prince of the same name. He seems before this to have grown so powerful as to rouse Kavadh’s apprehensions, and the latter therefore deprived him, either wholly or in part, of his dominions for a time, in favour of Harith, a member of the much-ramified family of the Kinda kings. The statement that this event bore some relation to the Mazdakite troubles is hardly probable.

On the outbreak of the war with Rome, however, Kavadh restored the whole of his former dominions to the tried warrior Mundhir. In the spring of 529 the latter invaded Syria, laid the whole country waste as far as Antioch, and carried off troops of captives that he might secure their ransom. He was a savage who in one day slaughtered four hundred nuns from a Syrian nunnery in honour of his goddess Zuhara (the planet Venus). In the same year his rival Harith went to war with him, and Mundhir caused a number of members of the princely family of Kinda, who had fallen into his hands, to be put to death at Hira. For half a century he was the terror of Roman subjects, troubling himself little to inquire whether peace[88] prevailed or not, till at length he fell in battle against the Roman prince of the Arabs, Harith, the son of Jabala (June, 554), whose captive son he had likewise sacrificed to Zuhara.

It was Mundhir who induced Kavadh, after an interval, to undertake a campaign in Syria itself (531). The Persians advanced far to the north along the right bank of the Euphrates, but were compelled to retreat by Belisarius. A battle was fought at Callinicus (Rakka), near the frontier that is, in which Belisarius was totally defeated; but the Persian commander was nevertheless obliged to return home. The Persians gained some successes in Mesopotamia the same year, and had almost reduced the great fortress of Martyropolis (Maiferkat, Arabic Mayafarikin) when tidings came of the death of the king, and brought about a truce.

A few years before his death Kavadh had brought the Mazdakites to a horrible end. The sect seems to have grown so powerful that it could no longer be tolerated; for, in spite of all its theoretic idealism it threatened to subvert the foundations of society and the state. The catastrophe, which was accompanied by lavish bloodshed, took place in 528 or 529, under the orders of Prince Chosroes, acting in agreement with the king.

Kavadh died on the 13th of September, 531, aged eighty-two. He certainly destined Chosroes for his successor; and according to a report we may well credit, he had him crowned on his death-bed. Chosroes I (Chosrau), who bears the surname of Anosharvan, “the blessed,” was undoubtedly a great king. It is true that he was by no means the ideal king that Orientals make him out to have been, but neither does he bear the title of “the just” without due reason.

CHOSROES “THE JUST”

The negotiation taken in hand on his accession led in the course of a year to an “eternal peace” (September, 532). The Romans agreed to make a large annual payment and other concessions, the Persians gave up some castles in Lazistan (the ancient Colchis, at the eastern extremity of the Black Sea). The conclusion of peace was evidently a matter of great moment to the Persian king. He probably availed himself at once of this breathing space to protect his frontiers from barbarians of all kinds. Tradition is certainly right in attributing to him comprehensive measures for the defence of the Caucasus and northeastern frontier, among which was the forcible transplantation of unruly tribes.

In a few years he felt himself strong enough to take up hostilities against the Romans once more. Perhaps he really feared that the result of the success of Justinian’s arms in Italy and Africa would be to make the Roman Empire too strong for him. No doubt the messengers sent by Witiges, king of the Goths, had painted the perils which would ensue to Persia from them in the liveliest colours. He probably found an incitement even more powerful in the fact that the Armenian nobles, who had rebelled in consequence of many acts of injustice, applied to him for aid although they were Christians.

CHOSROES ATTACKS ROME

There was no lack of petty violations of the treaty by one side or the other; the Arabs on both sides alone took good care of that. At all events Chosroes was this time eager for war, and he therefore started early in the[89] year 540 to invade Syria as Sapor I had done. He passed by the strongly fortified cities which bought him off by the payment of large sums, those which offered resistance he took. This fate fell heaviest upon Antiochia, the metropolis. The army left it laden with booty, which included many works of art. He burned the city and carried off its inhabitants. After advancing to the shores of the “Roman” Sea, he continued his victorious progress through northern Syria and Mesopotamia, from west to east. The fortress of Dara, which had always been an eyesore to the Persians because it had been built in contravention of the treaty, was obliged to purchase safety at a price. None went free without payment except the inhabitants of Carrhæ, who, being still heathen, might be supposed to entertain sympathy for the non-Christian empire. At the end of the summer he reached Ctesiphon again, without having encountered any open resistance in the field.

In the second year of the war Chosroes marched to Lazistan at the request of the inhabitants, penetrated to the Black Sea, and there took the strong fortress of Petra. The struggle was continued for several years in Mesopotamia with variable fortune. In 546 a truce was concluded for five years on payment of a large sum of money by the Romans. But Lazistan territory was excluded from the operation of the truce, both then and in 553, when the armistice was prolonged for a further period of five years. The Arabs of the two empires also continued to fight with one another. Not until 556 was the armistice extended to Lazistan, the Roman arms having made some progress in the meantime, and about Christmas, 562, a peace was concluded for fifty years.

The Romans again pledged themselves to pay a considerable sum every year, the Persians resigned their claims to Lazistan, but the question of who should possess the neighbouring province of Suania remained undecided. Our information concerning the articles of this peace happens to be exceptionally detailed; one important provision is that, though stipulating for full religious liberty for Persian Christians, the Romans recognise that they are prohibited from proselytising among Zoroastrians; and consequently that severe punishment inflicted for the infringement of this prohibition does not constitute a violation of the articles of peace.

In the attempt to conquer Yemen (about 570) we have in actual fact a somewhat wild undertaking. The country had been occupied in 525 by the Christian Abyssinians. A prince of Yemen besought Chosroes to aid him in delivering the country from the negroes. After some hesitation the king despatched a small force under Vahriz by sea, which actually succeeded in overcoming the feeble resistance of the Abyssinian army and bringing the country into subjection to the king. It remained nominally under the sovereignty of Persia until it became Moslem, but the empire reaped no advantage from this remote province beyond a certainly scanty and probably irregular tribute.

A country to which the sea offered the only convenient approach could be of no use to a race so utterly ignorant of navigation as the Persians, and we find no vestige of sea-borne traffic between Yemen and Persia. Chosroes may indeed have had some idea of diverting commercial advantages from the Romans and procuring them for the Persians, just as in other respects commercial interests play their part in the hostile and amicable relations of the empire; as was done, for instance, and to a very great extent, by the silk trade with the interior of Asia.

The king was not exempt from strife within the borders of his dominions. About 551 his son Anoshazadh, who for some offence had been banished to[90] Susiana, hearing that his father was seriously ill, proclaimed himself king and persisted in his rebellion. He relied upon the Christians, his mother’s co-religionists, but was soon overcome and taken prisoner. He was not executed, but merely rendered ineligible for the throne by a slight facial disfigurement.

In the later years of his life Chosroes was again involved in war with the Romans, who this time allied themselves with the Turkish chagan, now a formidable foe of Persia. The Persians did all they could to prevent intercourse between him and the Romans. The Romans likewise complained of the destruction of the Christian kingdom of Yemen. But these were secondary considerations. Even the refusal of the emperor, Justin II (November 14th, 565-6, to October, 578), to pay to Persia the sum stipulated by treaty would probably not have led to a direct rupture.

But the Persians could not tamely submit to see the whole of Armenia become Roman. Armenian nobles were once more contemplating rebellion; the clergy and the fanatical mob raised a tumult when it was proposed to erect a temple of Fire at Dovin, the capital, and Suren, a Persian, was slain (spring of 571). The rebels turned to Constantinople; the king of Iberia (to the north of Armenia) did likewise. The incompetent emperor imagined that both countries might fall to Rome again, and took them under his protection. It was the signal for war. Excellent as are the contemporary reports of this war which have come down to us, we have no complete and chronologically exact summary of its progress. At the very beginning Nisibis was besieged to no purpose by the Romans; Chosroes, on the other hand, took Dara after a six months’ siege (573), while his general, Adharmahan, invaded Syria by way of the right bank of the Euphrates, and there perpetrated ravages similar to those for which his master had been responsible in 540. He destroyed Apamea and carried the inhabitants away into captivity. After marching through Mesopotamia he joined forces with the king before Dara. Some of the captives he settled in New Antioch.

Tiberius, who directed the government at Constantinople in concert with the empress Sophia and was formally appointed co-regent on the 7th of December, 574, was anxious for peace. But even the conclusion of a truce for three years did not bring about real tranquillity, as Armenia was not included in the armistice. Early in the year 575 Chosroes marched through Armenia and penetrated a long way towards Cappadocia. He was obliged to withdraw before the Roman troops, who actually plundered his camp, but could not prevent him from burning Sebastia and Melitene and getting safely home. His Roman pursuers occupied a great part of Persian Armenia and wintered there, but were driven out of it in the following year.

That the Romans displayed no more humanity than the Persians is clear from the fact that they carried off even the Christian inhabitants of the Persian border-provinces of Arzanene, and considered it a singular favour to assign dwelling-places to them in Cyprus (577). Negotiations for peace were set on foot again and again. After recent experiences the Roman claims to Persian Armenia and Iberia were readily renounced at Constantinople. On the point of honour that the temporal and spiritual nobles of Armenia who had taken refuge at Constantinople should not be handed over to the vengeance of the Persians, an understanding might also have been arrived at. Dara was still a great stumbling-block, the Romans insisting on its restoration, with excellent reason. For all that, peace would probably have been concluded if Chosroes had not died (about February, 579) shortly after Tiberius had become sole monarch (October 4th or 6th, 578).

[91]

HORMUZD IV

The new king, Hormuzd IV, son of Chosroes and the daughter of the Turkish chagan, was haughty and enterprising. It produced an unpleasant impression at Constantinople that he sent no notification of his accession thither, for even in time of war announcements of this sort had been ceremoniously made by both courts. Altogether Greek authors criticise Hormuzd very unfavourably, and even Persian tradition testifies that he was spiteful and shed much blood. We know on the evidence of a contemporary that he put his brothers to death when he came to the throne, but the same authority states that this was a barbarous custom among the Persians. On the other hand, Persian tradition reports that he exercised strict justice without respect of persons, and zealously took the part of the common man against the noble. The weight of his severity fell upon the great. This agrees with the fact that he took thought for the soldiers in the ranks and treated the aristocratic cuirassiers with slight regard. He also incurred the wrath of the priests by a decision which does him the highest honour, for he ironically rejected their petition that he should place Christians at a disadvantage. In many points he seems to have resembled the first Yezdegerd, whose fate he likewise shared. It was his misfortune that he did not possess the intellectual superiority which enabled his father to control the nobles, both temporal and spiritual.

The war with Rome lasted through the whole of his reign, and the repeated attempts at negotiations came to nought. Sometimes one side was victorious, sometimes the other. To this war was added an unfortunate war with the Turks. Against them Hormuzd despatched Bahram Chobin. He succeeded in gaining a brilliant victory over them, or rather over one of their vassals, and took much booty; and even, as the story goes, converted the Persian tribute to the Turks into a Turkish tribute to the Persians. The victorious general was next sent (589) to the countries south of the Caucasus, there to aim a mighty blow at the Romans. Bahram, however, was totally routed. Hormuzd was then guilty of the folly of dismissing this experienced commander, the head of the house of Mihran, with ignominy.

CIVIL WAR

Bahram retaliated by open rebellion. His army took his part. He very likely knew how disaffected the nobles were, and could count upon malcontents among the rest of the troops. The army in Mesopotamia, which had retreated to Nisibis after being defeated by the Romans and dreaded the vengeance of the king, mutinied and joined Bahram, though without resigning its independence. Bahram had advanced as far as the great Zab (not far from the Mosul of to-day) on his way to the capital, when he was confronted by a royal army. But this army likewise rebelled, not, indeed, in Bahram’s favour, but in favour of Chosroes, the king’s son. Some of these troops reached Ctesiphon soon after, whither Hormuzd had hurried from Media on receipt of the fatal tidings. The city was given over to tumult. Bindoe, whose sister was Chosroes’ mother, was imprisoned there (a fate most liable to befall an oriental noble); his brother Bistam (Vistahm) liberated him by force, and the nobles proceeded to depose Hormuzd and proclaim Chosroes king (summer of 590). He was on bad terms with his father, and the movement certainly did not come upon him as a surprise.[92] How far he was implicated in the assassination of Hormuzd, which soon followed, we cannot tell with any degree of certainty; most likely he let that happen which he could not well prevent.

Chosroes II, surnamed Parvez, “the victorious,” tried in vain to win Bahram over to his side. The latter himself wished to reign either in the name of a prince who was not of age, or preferably in his own. Chosroes marched against him, but his army was not loyal. The famous general commanded more respect than the faint-hearted king, whose troops deserted him after the first serious engagement. Chosroes, with his family and a few faithful followers, fled into Syria, to the Romans. When he had reached the frontier city of Circesium, he wrote to implore the aid of the emperor Maurice (who had been on the throne since the 14th of August, 582). The latter was not adroit enough to take advantage of this extraordinarily favourable situation for the benefit of his empire, for he undertook to restore Chosroes without stipulating for a fair equivalent. A man of mean origin himself, he probably felt flattered by the mere fact of being called upon to reinstate a legitimate king of ancient lineage and being able to declare himself “father” of such a one.

Meanwhile Bahram, after some hesitation, had caused himself to be proclaimed king and had struck coins in his own name. He had also been fortunate enough to get Bindoe into his power. But Bahram’s was but a tottering throne from the outset. The nobles would not submit to a man who had been their equal. Even in the Parthian Empire, however, often kings were deposed and raised to the throne; it had always been accounted right that none but an Arsacid should wear the crown, and in the empire of the Sassanids the legitimist sentiment was much stronger. In the popular mind the “ancient royal majesty” (farrahi kayanik) was bound up with the house of Ardaschir, and no other could reign.

There was a rising even in Ctesiphon itself, which was put down by Bahram, though Bindoe escaped during the tumult, further to exert himself on his nephew’s behalf. By the beginning of 591 an imperial army was in the field to reinstate Chosroes. Martyropolis, which had fallen into the hands of the Persians through treachery, and had already been blockaded for a considerable time, was given over to the Romans by Chosroes; so was Dara. The Persian army at Nisibis went over to him, and increased from day to day by the arrival of Persian nobles, among whom were barons from Armenia. Bistam collected an army at Aderbaijan to march against Bahram; the main Romano-Persian army advanced upon him to the left of the Tigris, but before ever they came into touch with the enemy, a royal force which had been sent in advance straight through the Mesopotamian desert had taken the capital cities of Ctesiphon, Seleucia, and New Antiochia.

All men took the part of their lawful sovereign, and in the great battle that was fought near the Zab, Bahram was completely routed (summer of 591). He fled to the Turks, by whom he was received with honour, but soon afterwards assassinated. Chosroes was escorted to Ctesiphon by the Romans, and as a matter of course peace was concluded between Rome and Persia. Equally of course the payment of tribute was dropped; but the frontiers remained as they had been before the war, and Nisibis was left in the hands of the Persians.

Chosroes still felt so insecure on his throne that he begged the emperor to leave him a body-guard of one thousand Romans. His first thought was to rid himself of all dangerous characters, and especially of those who had compassed his father’s fall and his own elevation to the throne. Among[93] others he had his uncle, Bindoe, put to death; but Bindoe’s brother Bistam was beyond his reach. When the latter saw that his death was determined upon, he followed Bahram’s example, assumed the title of king in Media, and had coins struck. He too was of ancient lineage, and he too could not gain the prestige of the legitimate line. He seems to have relied upon the remnants of Bahram’s forces, and to have entered into alliance with the Turks and Delamites. He withstood Chosroes’ troops for nearly six years, till he fell by treachery (probably at the end of 595 or the beginning of 596).

VICES OF CHOSROES II

These disorders must have sadly distracted the empire, which had been sufficiently enfeebled before by the long wars in the east and the west. Nor was Chosroes II the sagacious, strong, and humane ruler whom it required under these circumstances. At best he was a very ordinary type of oriental prince. Weak at bottom, he was at the same time boastful and cowardly, and to ostentation and luxury he added the much more harmful fault of avarice. At his death the royal treasuries, which he had found empty, were full, while his dominions were impoverished by war. Some excuse may be found in the circumstances of the time for his conduct towards those who had helped him to the throne. In war he never distinguished himself, his victories are only those of his generals. He did indeed protect the Christians, he even treated them with distinction, and built churches for them; but he did it partly on account of the impression made upon him by the help of the Romans and (as he himself thought) the assistance of St. Sergius, the patron saint of the Syrians and Arabs in the Roman Empire, partly at the instigation of Shirin, his favourite wife, who was an ardent Christian, and of others, such as his Christian physician in ordinary, Gabriel. In later days Chosroes’ friendship for the Christians was turned into the opposite sentiment. And we know that he was a man of gross character.

After Maurice had been overthrown by a mutiny and slain, and the vile Phocas elevated to the imperial throne (November, 602), Chosroes looked upon himself as in a state of war against the Romans, in the capacity of avenger of his “father” Maurice, and protector of his putative son Theodosius, who had taken refuge with him. Furthermore Narses, who was in command at Edessa, appealed to him against Phocas. Chosroes, therefore, made a beginning by imprisoning the ambassadors by whose hand Phocas informed him of his accession. The actual war probably commenced at the beginning of 604. For twenty years the Roman Empire was overrun by Persian armies as it never had been before, so disordered was it by Phocas, so harassed by Avars and other barbarous tribes. Chosroes was present in person at the taking of Dara, after which he took no active part in the war. In a few years the Persian armies had pressed forward far on the road to Asia Minor, even reaching Chalcedon, opposite Constantinople.

The fact that the power of the Persian Empire was not very firmly based for all that, is shown by an event, in itself insignificant, which falls within this period (between 604 and 610), the battle of Dhu Kar. Chosroes had abolished the kingdom of Hira, and caused Nohman, the last king, to be put to death. By this means the empire was quit of a vassal state which had often proved troublesome; but, on the other hand, it was henceforward far more difficult to gain an ascendency over the savage tribes of the desert, and prevent them from making raids upon the cultivated regions. After the[94] fall of Nohman, the Bedouin tribes of Bekr ben Wail succeeded in inflicting a total defeat on an imperial army consisting of Arabs and Persian regular troops at Dhu Kar, not far from the Euphrates and a few days’ march from Ctesiphon, and holding the territory out of which the Persians wished to drive them. This victory of Arabs over Persians, magnified by national vanity, greatly encouraged the former in their self-esteem, and strengthened the confidence of the Moslems when they attacked the empire.

CONFLICT WITH HERACLIUS; FALL OF CHOSROES II

The war with the Romans continued to make successful progress, after Phocas had been overthrown, by his able successor Heraclius (October, 610). The latter, seeing himself hard pressed on all sides, sued in vain for peace. Damascus was taken in 613. The surrounding country, which had never been trodden by Persian feet since the founding of the empire, was laid so utterly waste that to this day countless ruins bear witness to these ravages. In the June of 614 Jerusalem was taken. The whole of Christendom was horrified by the tidings that, together with the patriarch, the Persians had carried off the “Holy life-giving Cross” of Christ. Egypt was next conquered, and Asia Minor again overrun as far as to Chalcedon. Not till 622 was Heraclius able to take the field against the Persians. He took ship for the Bay of Issus, thence pressed forward to Armenia and the regions about the Pontus, and for the first time in the campaign inspired the enemy with respect for the Roman arms. The loss of church treasures must be reckoned as a heavy item in the cost of the war. On the 15th of March, 623, Heraclius at length started upon the great military expedition which led him again and again into the heart of Persian territory. The almost extravagant daring of his cross-marches and transverse marches, in which he was generally deprived of all communication with his base and must have had great difficulty in feeding his troops, prove him a great commander and a great statesman.

In the first year of the campaign he destroyed one of the most sacred sanctuaries of the Persians, the Fire temple of Ganjak, not far from the Lake of Urumiyeh; it was his reply to the destruction of Jerusalem. We find him now in the vicinity of the Caucasus, now in the east of Asia Minor, now, again, in Mesopotamia, never vanquished, often victorious, more often still, it may be, weakening or deluding superior forces by skilful movements. Chosroes, who felt the emperor disquietingly near at Ganjak, sent Shahrbaraz, the most famous of his generals, with a great army direct to Chalcedon to draw him off (626).

It was an anxious time for Constantinople, with the Persians on this side and the Avars on that (in the summer of 626), and the emperor almost beyond knowledge in the remote parts of Asia. But the Avars soon withdrew, seeing that the Persians, having no fleet, could not undertake concerted operations with them on the far side of the Bosporus. In retaliation Heraclius brought the savage Khazars, from the north of the Caucasus, into Persian territory. At length, in 627, he ventured into the chief province of the monarchy. He kept the “feast of lights” (January 6th, 628) at Dastagerd, only about three days’ journey from Ctesiphon, where Chosroes had held his court regularly for the last twenty years.

The king had fled in terror, not feeling safe till he and his harem had the bridge of the Tigris at Ctesiphon behind them. Heraclius had naturally[95] accomplished his tremendous march from the Caucasus with comparatively few troops, and was in no position to attack the capital, strongly fortified and protected by waterways as it was. On the contrary, before the king had collected a large army he withdrew, but only to Ganjak, thus remaining on the enemy’s soil; and in February and March traversed the Alps of Kurdistan amidst perpetual snow-storms, a feat which has not often been matched in the annals of war.

Meanwhile important events had been taking place at Ctesiphon. Chosroes’ tyranny and extortion had exasperated high and low alike; by his cowardly flight he had forfeited the respect of his people. In addition, he had designated Mardanshah—his son by Shirin, who still governed him wholly in spite of her years and his thousands of other wives—as his successor, to the exclusion of Kavadh. The latter was imprisoned in a fortress with most of his brothers. Some nobles, among whom was a Christian, Shamta, son of the deceased farmer-general Ezdin, now set Kavadh at liberty and proclaimed him king (February 25th, 628). Chosroes, deserted by all men, was dragged out of his hiding-place, put in prison, and, after a few days, executed (the 29th of February, 628). Thus miserably and horribly perished the man whose camps extended almost to the borders of the Achæmenid Empire. No hand was raised to defend or avenge him. The Christians above all—who, apart from other things, had suffered deadly insult at his hands by the carrying away of the True Cross—hailed with acclamations the parricide Kavadh, in whose elevation one of themselves had played no small part.

SUCCESSORS OF CHOSROES II

The first thing that Kavadh (II) Seroes did was to murder all his brothers (probably to the number of eighteen); the second was to send the emperor an urgent entreaty for peace. A truce was quickly concluded, but no peace as yet, Heraclius being in no hurry for it, since he was now to some extent master of the situation. All Persian troops received orders to evacuate Roman territory. Heraclius seems next to have introduced such order as he could into the affairs of the provinces so recovered, and of Mesopotamia in particular. On reaching Syria he learned that Kavadh Seroes was already dead. The wretched man had only reigned for about half a year. His reign was marked by a dreadful pestilence.

The party in power set his son Ardashir III, a child of seven, in his place; and an epoch of unspeakable confusion ensued, in which the children and women on the throne served only as a pretext for the ambitions of contesting nobles. During Ardashir’s reign the cross, which had been sent back from Ctesiphon to Heraclius through the head of the Nestorian church, was solemnly set up again by him in Jerusalem. The festival of the Elevation of the Cross on the 14th of September still keeps that joyful day in remembrance (629).

The government at Ctesiphon was powerless. The Khazars invaded and ravaged the empire. Possibly it was at this time that Chosroes, the son of Kavadh and grandson of Hormuzd IV, who had grown to manhood among the Turks, first tried to establish his throne in Khorasan. He was killed in a few months, but a mightier than he, the victorious general Shahrbaraz, grasped at the crown. In a personal interview at Arabissus in Cappadocia (June, 629) he seems to have secured the assent of Heraclius, who must have[96] been deeply interested in weakening the hostile empire by fostering internecine discord. Shahrbaraz then marched with a small force upon Ctesiphon, and the famous defender of the empire took the city of its kings by the treasonable aid of some of the principal inhabitants. The city was given over to plunder, murder, and horrors of every kind; and the boy Ardashir was slain on April 27, 630. But on the ninth of June, Shahrbaraz himself fell a victim of the jealousy and legitimism of his compeers. His corpse was dragged through the street; and tradition heaps grotesque irony on the man who would be king and could not, because he was not of the legitimate line.

A woman, Boran, the daughter of Chosroes II, was next raised to the throne. She seems to have formally concluded peace with Heraclius at last; on what terms we do not know, but probably the peace with Maurice was simply ratified anew. At all events, Nisibis remained Persian.

Boran only reigned until about the autumn of 631. She was succeeded at Ctesiphon, probably after the brief intermediate reign of a prince, Peroz by name, by her sister Azarmidokht. At Nisibis, however, the troops of the murdered Shahrbaraz set up Hormuzd V, a grandson of Chosroes II, who held his ground in that district for some time (in the years 631 and 632). Azarmidokht was overthrown by Rustem, the mighty hereditary crown-general of Khorasan, whose father she had caused to be put to death. From the confused accounts of this time of confusion we cannot gather with any certainty who was king or who pretender in the capital or provinces, nor determine the date or even the sequence of these “reigns.”

It is certain that after Azarmidokht one Ferrukhzadh (or Khorrezadh) Chosroes was for some time accounted king at Ctesiphon. He was probably a child, and according to some authorities was the only son of Chosroes II who had escaped the general butchery. But others of the men in power set up another child at Persis, Yezdegerd III, son of Shahriyar and grandson of Chosroes II, and crowned him in the Fire temple of Ardashir (in the second half of 632 or the first half of 633). He was presently acknowledged in the capital, Chosroes having been put to death. No lasting resistance appears to have been encountered in other provinces.

ANARCHY AND CHAOS

No one could now dream of a real restoration of the fearfully distracted empire; but at least a grandson of Chosroes, who did not trace his descent from the parricide Sheroe, was sole king once more. He was consecrated at Istakhr, the home of the dynasty; and the mighty Rustem stood at his side. A change for the better seems really to have ensued, but it was no more than a brief respite. A foe destined to prove more formidable than Julian or Heraclius was already knocking at the gates of the empire. In the internal disorders which had distracted Ctesiphon, the loss of Yemen, and a few of the empire’s possessions in northeastern Arabia to the Moslems, had probably passed almost unnoticed.

The Moslems, however, were soon close at hand. The Bekr Bedouins had made raids upon the royal dominions several times since the battle of Dhu Kar. After a while Muthanna, one of their bravest chiefs, became a convert to Islam, and with that force behind them their attacks grew bolder. Then (probably in 633) the mighty Khalid, after subduing the insurrections in Arabia, appeared with a small force on the lower Euphrates to conduct the operations of these same Bedouins. Persian Arabs and imperial troops[97] were defeated in small engagements, and soon a number of border forts were in the hands of the Moslems. The inhabitants of the regions west of the Euphrates, who were all Christians, and, like all the Christians about the Euphrates and Tigris, felt little loyalty to the empire, submitted to the victors and even undertook to supply them with information.

ARAB INCURSIONS

The Arabs were already beginning to rove on the far side of the Euphrates; they plundered Baghdad, then a village, while a fair was being held there, as well as other places on the right bank of the Tigris. But Khalid presently received orders (the commencement of the summer of 634) to start for Syria, the conquest of which was at the time a matter of greater consequence to the caliph. His successor, Abu Obaid of Taif, brought some reinforcements with him; but when at length a regular Persian army came on the scene, the Moslems, in spite of their heroic valour, were completely defeated in the “battle of the Bridge,” on the Euphrates, November 26th, 634. After their leader had fallen Muthanna had great difficulty in extricating the remains of his army. Most of the Moslem conquests were lost without further ado. After some hesitation Omar (caliph since August 23rd, 634) resolved to send more troops to Irak. He appealed simultaneously to the greed and piety of the Arabs, urging them in the same breath to win the treasures of Chosroes and the joys of paradise. A larger Persian army was now defeated for the first time (at Buwaib, 635 or 636); the commander, a member of the house of Mihran, was among the slain.

The Arabs were once more masters of the country west of the Euphrates. They found an energetic and cautious leader in Saad, son of Abu Wakkas, one of the first followers of the prophet. The lords at Ctesiphon now realised the great danger that impended over the empire. The news of the battle on the Yarmuk (August 20th, 636) which cost Heraclius, the conqueror of Persia, the whole of Syria, probably contributed to their fears. Rustem, therefore, took the head of a great army in person. As a token of the gravity of the struggle he bore with him the sacred banner of the empire (dirafshi Kaviyan), which was supposed to have come down from time immemorial. He also took with him a number of elephants, according to the Persian usage in war. At the approach of the advanced guard of the Persian army Saad evacuated his position and retreated to Kadisiya, on the verge of the desert (south or southwest of Hira). For months the armies confronted one another, with only a little space between. The Arabic force was certainly much the smaller of the two; they could not have fed a large army in that place, for they were dependent on the produce of their raids and such provisions as the caliph sent after them from Medina.

At length the great battle of Kadisiya (end of 636 or 637) was fought. It lasted for several days; Saad was ill, but nevertheless took the command. The Persians were, for the most part, much better armed than the Arabs, but the courage of the latter was wound up to the highest pitch. They were terrified by the elephants at first, but as they pressed on gallantly for all their fears, the animals appear to have got beyond control and to have become a source of confusion to the Persian ranks. The great majority of the Persians certainly behaved with cowardice, after their ancient fashion; but the Arabs had hard work before the foe was defeated, Rustem himself slain, and the banner of the Persian Empire taken.

[98]

ARAB CONQUEST

The battle of Kadisiya practically decided the fate of the provinces on the Tigris. There were a few other fights, some of them in the vast territory of ancient Babylon, but the Arabs soon afterwards reached Seleucia, took it after a protracted siege, crossed the rapid stream of the Tigris, and quickly forced their way into Ctesiphon. The young king Yezdegerd had already fled to Holwan (on the border between Babylonia and Media). On their way thither, at Jalula, the Arabs won another victory over the Persians under Khorrezadh, Rustem’s brother, and Yezdegerd fled further into the interior. Meanwhile other Arabs had conquered the delta of the stream and thence advanced into Susiana. A very able resolute commander might still have saved the actual land of Iran for the Persians. Omar, who was very cautious in spite of his energy, was apprehensive lest the Arabs should extend their forces too far, and at first would not give orders for an advance into the highlands. At length he did so. A great Persian army had been collected at Nehavend, a little to the south of the ancient highway from Babylon to Ecbatana. Here a great battle was fought (in 640, 641, or 642), in which the Arabs—first under the command of Nohman and, after he had fallen, under Hudhaifa the Meccan—won a brilliant victory.

With good reason the Moslems called the triumph of Nehavend the “victory of victories.” It completely shattered the empire of Persia. The Arabs had a long contest before them, until they had really conquered all the provinces of the vast monarchy, but it consisted of isolated struggles in which there could be no doubt of the ultimate issue, as their enemies had lost all cohesion. Many towns and districts had to be subjugated again and again, because they were constantly rebelling. The most obstinate resistance appears to have been offered in Persia proper, especially about Istakhr, the cradle of the empire of the Sassanidæ and the centre of its religion. Many of the great provincial nobles and some of the lesser entered into friendly agreement with the Arabs. They one and all met them on the footing of independent sovereigns.

King Yezdegerd meanwhile led a wretched life. He could not summon up courage to set his life on the stake for his crown and empire. He fled from one satrap to another. He seems to have stayed longest at Istakhr, the home of his race. The outward pomp of royalty was left him, coins were still struck in his name, but as soon as he became a troublesome guest he was sent away. At length he took refuge in the extreme northeast, and there he was miserably murdered, in the neighbourhood of Merv. The circumstances of his death, which took place in 651 or 652, are not exactly known, but it seems tolerably certain that Mahoe, satrap of Merv, had a hand in it. [For the traditional account see page 154, this volume.]

The similarity of the circumstances under which the Achæmenid and Sassanid empires perished forces itself upon our notice, a similarity which, though apparently fortuitous, indicates a great correspondence in character. As the battle on the Granicus first fully showed the formidable nature of the enemy, as Issus cost the king his western provinces and Gaugamela rent the empire asunder without thereby making the victor master of all its several provinces, so it came to pass nearly one thousand years later, with the battles of Buwaib, Kadisiya, and Nehavend. And as the fugitive Darius was slain, in the northeast, not by enemies but by treacherous nobles, so it was with Yezdegerd, who was no more a hero than he. The Persian nobility did not exhibit so gross a lack of patriotism and loyalty in the case of the[99] Arabs as in that of Alexander; the vivid consciousness of religious differences and the ruder manners of the Arabs made adherence to them more difficult; but there was no lack of traitors of high rank nor of renegades among the greater and lesser nobles. The complete subjugation of the Persian monarchy took the Arabs much longer than it had taken the great Macedonian, but on the other hand its effects were much more lasting; Hellenism touched the mere surface of Persia, but Iran has been thoroughly permeated by Arab religion and Arab characteristics.

A fragment of the Sassanid empire continued to exist for some time longer. The hereditary crown-generals (Shahpat, Ispehbedh) of Khorasan, of the house of Karen, withdrew into the mountain country of Tabaristan (Mazanderan) and there reigned for more than one hundred years, though they occasionally found themselves under the necessity of paying tribute to the caliph. They remained faithful to the religion of Zoroaster. The era which they struck upon their coins begins, in all probability, with the death of Yezdegerd, and they thus seemed to have looked upon themselves as the direct succession of the last Sassanid king.b

FOOTNOTES

---

[100]

CHAPTER III. EARLY HISTORY OF THE ARABS

The Arabian peninsula is Africa reduced in size and of more moderate proportions, but without a river-valley like that of the Nile. The heart of the country is a tableland, sparely watered under a burning sun, and forming a depression in the midst of sandy deserts, rocky plains, peaks, and naked cliffs. Thus, despite its great extent of over a million square miles, Arabia presents, especially in the interior, but few stretches of land suitable for cultivation. It is in the south, where the plateau slopes down to the Indian Ocean in a series of declivities, that fertile valleys lie; and on the mountain terraces, where cool winds from the ocean temper the tropic heat, the richest fruits abound. This district of Arabia is the land of frankincense, of sugar-cane, and coffee tree, of pomegranates, figs, dates, of maize, and wheat.

Herodotus,b who like all other historians of antiquity applies the name Arabia to regions lying even beyond Sinai and the Syrian deserts, gives us but meagre information concerning the inhabitants of this vast land. “The Arabs,” he says, “wear long garments, carry at their right side great bows with double strings, and ride on swift camels. They worship two gods, Dionysus whom they call Urotal, and Urania whom they call Alilat, the latter also being called by the Babylonians Mylitta. Compacts are made in the following manner; a third person cuts each of the parties to the agreement in the hand near the thumb, and with the blood thus obtained smears seven stones that lie on the ground between, at the same time calling on Urotal and Alilat. Compacts thus sealed are held sacred by the Arabs, and are kept with a fidelity rarely found in other nations.” Artemidorusc of Ephesus calls Arabia rich in animals of all sorts; lions, panthers, wolves, wild asses, and camels; and the inhabitants, according to him, were wandering herdsmen who travelled about and did their fighting on the backs of camels, and lived on the camels’ milk and flesh. He withholds from us the names of these tribes on account of their obscurity and unmusical sound. Diodorusd also tells us that parts of Arabia on the Syrian side were inhabited by tribes who lived by trading and agriculture; but the tracts adjoining were for the[101] most part barren and without water, and the Nachabæans who occupied them led the life of bandits, plundering their neighbours far and wide; no other tribe had succeeded in conquering them. In the interior and in the west of Arabia were sand plains of immense extent, across which it was only possible to travel by taking, as on the sea, the Great Bear as a guide.

Plinye remarks: “Wonderful to say, the Arabians live about equally by robbery and by trade; what they obtain from their forests (meaning the products of the date-palms and the fruit-trees of the south) and from the sea they sell, yet they never buy anything in return.”

“The Arabs,” says Ammianus Marcellinusf “cover the territory that reaches from the Euphrates to Egypt. They wear no clothing save a sort of apron around the body, and a voluminous cloak. Every man among them is a warrior, and on their camels and swift, fine-limbed horses they are everywhere to be seen. They cannot endure to remain long in any one locality; without permanent dwelling-place they wander restlessly about, and their whole life is nothing but a flight. Of bread and wine the majority of Arabs have never even heard.”

Different information is given us regarding the southern coast of Arabia. Herodotusb remarks that the greatest blessings are showered upon the extreme limits of the earth, and that this seems to be true of Arabia, the most southern point of the inhabited world. Here only in all the earth grow frankincense, myrrh, cassia, and ladanum; here only are raised sheep with tails so bushy that wagons have to be bound beneath them to support them. But the trees bearing frankincense are guarded by winged serpents and those bearing cassia by bats.

Thoroughly informed in matters relating to this district by reason of Alexandria’s wide trade connections, Eratosthenesg could name the different tribes that inhabited the south. “In the interior,” he adds, “were thick forests formed by tall frankincense and myrrh trees; and besides these there were cinnamon trees, palm and calmus, and other trees of a similar nature, sending forth the sweetest odours. Out of so many it is not possible to name every species; it is enough to say that the perfumes they diffused were delicious beyond all words. Even people going by this land in ships at some distance from the shore, have the odours wafted to them on the breeze. For here the aroma does not proceed from spices old, stale, and laid away, but is sent forth in full strength and freshness, so that sailors along the coast believe they are enjoying ambrosia, no other name expressing the extraordinary strength and richness of the perfume they inhale. Among the Sabæans the monarchy is hereditary, and it is here that the king lives, dispensing justice to the people, but never venturing to leave his palace. Should he once show himself outside he would be stoned by his subjects, who would thus be fulfilling an ancient oracle. The Sabæans are the richest people in the world. In exchange for their few wares silver and gold flow in to them from all sides, and owing to the remoteness of their situation no other tribe has ever conquered them.”

The Hebrew Scriptures have preserved for us information concerning the populations of Arabia, that is older by a thousand years than that of Pliny, and by five hundred than that of Herodotus. According to Genesish the tribes fall into four main groups; the Joktanites, among whom the tribes of the south and east are the most prominent; the Keturites, which include certain tribes of the east and northwest; the Ishmaelites, among whom can be counted tribes of the north and of the tableland of the interior; and finally the group of tribes who wandered and settled near the eastern frontiers of[102] Canaan—the Amalekites, Edomites, Moabites, and Ammonites. The Hebrews ascribe to the Arabs the same origin as their own.

From the genealogies it is plain that the Hebrews regarded the Arabian tribes as close kinsmen of their own, and kinsmen of a far more ancient branch. The Arabs of the south traced their origin back to the fifth generation after Shem, the common forefather, while the Hebrews descended from the second son of Isaac. Most closely related to them are the Ishmaelites, who are divided into twelve tribes—the descendants of the sons of Ishmael, the “twelve princes”; then follow the Edomites, the Ammonites, and the Moabites.

The tradition of the Arabs scarcely goes back to the beginning of the Christian era. What their writers, who began after Mohammed to tell the early history of their race, knew of those ancient periods is either derived from the accounts of the Hebrews, or is the work of pure imagination. They represent the Amalekites, whom they found in Hebrew Scriptures, as the founders of their race, and place their dwelling variously in Canaan and Damascus, and the district of Mecca and Oman, and cause them at one time to rule over Egypt. These Amalekites, the Tasmites and Jadi, Aadites and Jorhomites, they look upon as the true Arabian stock, to whom God taught Arabic after the confusion of tongues. But the Tasmites and Jadi are as little to be accepted historically as Amalek, their names signifying “the extinct,” and “the vanished”; the Aadites are a purely fabulous people, and the Jorhomites (near Mecca) are a tribe of by no means ancient origin. The progenitor of the tribes of Yemen in the south is, according to the Arabians, Kahtan, the son of Eber, and great-grandson of Noah; this is the Joktan of Genesis. This founder of the Sabæan monarchy left two sons, Himyar and Kahtan. Himyar was the progenitor of the Himyarites, and their abode is placed on the southern coast of Arabia, between Mareb (Saba) and Hadramaut.

To the kingdom of Mareb, founded by Abd Shams-Sabah, is ascribed by Arab tradition a long succession of rulers. But even if we were to allow to each name a reign of more than thirty years, Kahtan’s period would not be carried back beyond 700 B.C. Abd Shams-Sabah is supposed to have built not only Mareb but a great dam for the irrigation of the land. The well-built dams, canals, and sluices at Sana (the Uzal of the Hebrews, to the west of Mareb) are said to have been erected by Asad. The castles of Sahlin and Bainun (near Sana) were built by dæmons, at Solomon’s bidding, for Belkis, queen of Sheba. Towards the end of the year 700 B.C. Harith, at the head of the Himyarites, gained possession of the kingdom of the Sabæans, who were thus driven from their own land, and the Himyarites who supplanted them (the Homerites of western nations) became the ruling people in Yemen. Arab tradition had somewhat prepared the way for this change by making Himyar the oldest son and successor of Abd Shams-Sabah.

If we trace the genealogies given by Arab tradition to the rulers of the tribes descended from Ishmael backwards for twenty generations till we reach Adnan, his grandson, we do not arrive at an earlier period than the second century B.C., even if we allow thirty years for each generation.

There have been handed down to us no consistent accounts of these people. We learn that Egypt, at some period later than 3000 years B.C., gained a foothold in the west of the Sinai peninsula, but we are unable to obtain any certainty of the origin of the invading tribes. The inscriptions of Egypt of the time of Tehutimes and the first Ramses,i tell of victories achieved over the Shasu and over the Punt, that is, the Arabs; but we cannot[103] learn the extent of these victorious operations, nor the names of the tribes against which they were directed, hence we conclude that they were of but a transitory nature. The Hebrews relate that the queen of the Sabæans, ruler over that fruitful, spice-bearing land, journeyed to Jerusalem to lay before King Solomon rich presents of spices and gold.

It would surprise us to learn that an Arabian monarchy was in the hands of a woman, did not the inscriptions of the Assyrian kingsj reveal that even the tribes of the deserts frequently had women as rulers. These same inscriptions also furnish us with information concerning certain early Arabian tribes, and make known to us their great wealth in cattle. The third Tiglathpileser relates that in the year 735 B.C. he received tribute from Zabibieh, queen of Arabia (Aribi). In the year 734 he marched on Samshi, queen of Arabia, and took from her as spoils thirty thousand camels and twenty thousand oxen, afterwards subjugating the people of Saba, the Sabæan city. King Sargon makes boast that he conquered the people of Thamud, the Thamudenes of western writers; also those of Tasid, Ibadid, Marsiman, Chayapa, the distant Arbæans, the inhabitants of the lands of Bari, “which the learned and the scribes knew not,” and that Samshi, queen of the Arabs and Yathamic, the Sabæan, paid him tribute of spices, camels, and gold (715 B.C.). Sennacherib took from the Pecod, the Hagarites, the Nabatæans, and certain other tribes, 5330 camels, and 800,600 head of small cattle (703 B.C.). During the reign of Asshurbanapal, Adija, queen of the Arabs, and Ammuladin, king of the Kedarites, were conquered and brought in chains to Nineveh; and the “innumerable warriors” of another prince, Yauta-ben-Bir-Dadda, were put to rout and his tents were burned. A third chief, Abiyate, with his allies, Yauta-ben-Hazael, Natnu (Nathan) king of the Nabatæans, and the worshippers of Istar, was defeated in 645 B.C.

The position of Arabia between the river valleys of the Nile, the Euphrates, and the Tigris, which had been the seats of the oldest industries and where agriculture and civilisation had early begun to flourish, brought the Arabs, who were continually wandering about the frontiers of their land, into close connection with Egypt and Babylon. What robbery failed to supply could be obtained by barter. The wandering herdsmen had need of corn, tools, and weapons; the Egyptians and Babylonians, of horses, camels, skins, and wool. By giving in exchange for what they required cattle and skins, the Arabs kept the Egyptians and Babylonians supplied with raw materials for their industries. According to Hebrew tradition Abraham went into Egypt, and the sons of Jacob bought grain in Egypt when “there was a famine in the land.” The fact that the Egyptians gained possession, in 3000 B.C., of the valley of Maghara in the Sinai peninsula, and that a thousand years later certain nomad tribes of the northwest of Arabia obtained supremacy over Egypt, served but to strengthen the later relations between the two countries. That there had long been intercourse is certain; and contact with the superior culture of Egypt had so multiplied the wants of the Arabs as greatly to increase their trading relations. They could offer not alone their cattle to the Egyptians in barter but the costly products of their southern coasts, the frankincense and perfumes that had already attained a high celebrity in Egypt as early as 2500 B.C.

It is no wonder then, in view of this ancient and active trade, that Queen Ramaka (Maat-ka-Ra or Hatshepsu) of Egypt made the attempt to import the products of southern Arabia direct by way of the Red Sea; and it must have been this same intention that caused Ramses II to project a canal that should connect the Nile with the Red Sea. Later, Ramses III caused ships to be built[104] especially for the trade with “the land of Punt” (Arabia) and “the land of the gods” (the far East). Great as was the demand of Egypt for incense and perfumes, that of Babylon seems to have been no less. Herodotusb tells us that at the annual feast of Belos a thousand talents of incense was burned on the altar of the great Babylonian temple.

The demand for Arabian products must have greatly increased when the Phœnician cities planted along the coast of Syria, grew to be important trade centres.

That the Babylonian talent was current among the Sabæans is evidence of the extent and activity of Babylonian trade. First passing their goods from one to another of their own tribes until the market at Damascus was reached, or the Euphrates and the Nile for shipping, the Arabs permitted or refused passage to the caravans of the Babylonians and the Phœnicians. They lay in wait for the merchant-trains, and either plundered them or forced them to pay for safe passage and convoy.

The beauty and fertility of the portion of Arabia occupied by the Sabæans and the Chatramites must have early served to fix them there as permanent settlers, and their constantly growing commerce with Egypt, Syria, and Babylonia unquestionably resulted in a great influx of wealth to these tribes. Thus even the tales current among western nations of the splendour of their cities—the sixty temples of Sabbatha, and the gold and silver vessels, pillars, and couches of Mareb—must have had strong foundation in fact. Ruins of mighty aqueducts, dams, and basins remain, which are the wonder and admiration of our tourists for the excellence of their plan and the solidity of their construction. They reveal to us not only the skill of the ancient Sabæans and Chatramites in erecting important works, but their complete understanding of the subject of irrigation; since the whole system of canals and basins was evidently designed to utilise upon their own lands the streams rushing down from the mountains. Remains of magnificent structures, not alone near Mareb but near Nejran, Ghorab, Nakb-el-Hajara, go far towards confirming what western and Arab tradition tell us of the glories of ancient times; and inscriptions on these and other ruins in the southwest of Yemen give us, though they do not go back further than the year 120 B.C., an insight into the life and culture of the tribes of South Arabia. We also learn the earlier forms of their spoken and written language, and discover that their alphabet was derived from that of the Phœnicians, developing later independently side by side with it. Of a more recent date (the first century A.D.) are inscriptions on the rocks of the Sinai peninsula in the extreme northwest of Arabia, which are written in the north Arabian language and characters.

A glance at the meagre array of facts made known to us reveals the basis of the religious conceptions of the Semitic tribes in Arabia to be almost the same as that of the Semitic tribes in Syria, or those by the Euphrates and[105] Tigris. It can readily be believed that the rites of those tribes nearest Syria partake somewhat of the character of the Syrian rites and that the worship of the southern tribes is closely allied to that of the Babylonians.

That the tribes of the desert should pay particular reverence to the stars cannot occasion much wonder. With the refreshing dews of night came not only Venus and the moon but the entire splendour of the firmament, to dazzle the eye and touch the spirit of the Arab. High above the silent desert, the tents, and sleeping flocks, looking down on the midnight ride and the waiting ambuscade, the stars swung on their glittering way. They were the source of a varied knowledge to the Arab; they marked out his path through the trackless desert, foretold the coming of the rain for which he had prayed, indicated the change of the seasons and the time for breeding in his flocks. Since these stars could at one time provide good pasturage and all that was needful for flocks, and at another dry up the wells and grass, why could they not also bring joy and pain, happiness and sorrow to mankind? Thus to the tribes of the desert the stars that shone brightest became living spirits, that ruled supreme over nature and the destinies of men.

The life of the nomad tribes of the interior (included by the Arabs under one name, Badawi [Bedouins] “children of the desert”) has suffered but few changes; up to the present day there have been no very radical departures from the customs and conditions of the olden time, which are fully described elsewhere.

In the Arabs the qualities peculiar to the Semitic character have attained their soundest and most strongly marked development. Their wandering life in the desert, exposed to burning sun and tempests of wind and sand, has steeled and strengthened them. In a land of trackless wastes, surrounded by beasts of prey and hostile tribes, each man was dependent for safety on his own watchfulness and keenness of vision, on his own courage and resolution, on his horse and lance. Soberly and frugally nourished, the body became lean and spare, but supple, sinewy, and capable of great endurance, and within these hardened frames dwelt a spirit of indomitable resolution. Thus the Arabs are characterised by a freer bearing, a more steadfast good faith, a more umbrageous pride, a greater love of independence, and a bolder daring than any other tribes of their race. The nature of their country and of their life has saved them from the excesses of greed of luxury and sensuality into which the Semitic populations on the Euphrates and the Tigris, as well as those on the Mediterranean, frequently fell, though they share in the cruelty and blood-thirstiness common to their race. It was the Arabs on whose unused strength it was possible to found an empire, a new Semitic civilisation in the Middle Ages, after Babel and Asshur, Tyre and Carthage, Jerusalem and Palmyra, had long passed away.k

ARAB HISTORY BEFORE MOHAMMED

The history of Arabia and its inhabitants naturally divides itself into two distinct and even dissimilar periods, that, namely, which preceded the era of Mohammed, and that which followed it. Each of these two periods, though comprising in its extent several minor phases and fluctuations, now of advance, now of retrogression, bears, however, a well-marked general character of its own. The first of the two periods is distinguished as one of local monarchies and federal governments; the latter commences with theocratic centralisation dissolving into general anarchy.

[106]

The first dawning gleams of anything that deserves to be called history disclose Arabia wholly, or nearly so, under the rule of a race of southern origin; the genuine, or, as they are sometimes termed from a mythical ancestor Kahtan, the Kahtanee Arabs. These, again, we find subdivided into several aristocratic monarchical governments, arranged so as to form a broad framework or rim around the central wilds of the peninsula.

Oldest and chiefest among the Arab monarchies was that of Yemen; its regal residence is said to have been in the now abandoned town of Mareb, in the extreme south. After a devastating inundation, referred with some probability to the first century of the Christian era, the seat of government was removed from the ruins of Mareb to Sana, a city which has continued the metropolis of Yemen to the present day. The Yemenite kings, descendants of Kahtan and Himyar (the dusky), a name denoting African origin, and each adorned with the reiterated surname of “Tobba,” a word of African etymology, and signifying “powerful,” are said to have reigned, with a few dynastic interruptions and palace revolutions, for about twenty-five hundred years, during which long period they commanded the direct obedience of the entire southern half of the peninsula; while, by their tribute-collectors, and by chiefs of kindred or delegated authority, they indirectly governed the northern. One of these monarchs is asserted, though historical criticism will hardly admit the assertion for fact, to have subdued the whole of central Asia, and even to have reached the boundaries of China; while another anticipated, so runs the story, the later and more authentic conquests of his race on the north African continent. In both these cases Arab chroniclers seem to have appropriated for their own rulers, not without some additional exaggerations, the glories and exploits of the Egyptian kings. But that theirs was a vigorous and in some respects a civilised government is attested alike by the literary and the architectural relics of their time. Their sovereignty was at last overthrown, 529 (A.D.) by an Abyssinian invasion, and was re-established in 603 A.D. as a dependency of the Persian Empire, till in the year 634 it was finally absorbed by Mohammedan conquest.

Next in importance to the kingdom of Yemen came the subsidiary monarchy of Hira, or more correctly Heerah, situated in the northeasterly province of Arabian Irak. Its kings, a collateral branch of the royal race of Sana, governed the western shore of the lower Euphrates, from the neighbourhood of Babylon down to the confines of Nejd, and along the coast of the Persian Gulf. The duration of their empire, founded in the second century after Christ, was 424 years. This kingdom paid an uncertain allegiance to their more powerful neighbours, the Persian despots; and from time to time exercised considerable influence over the turbulent tribes of central Arabia, till, like Yemen, it sank before the rising fortunes of Mohammed and his followers.

A third monarchy, that of Ghassan, lorded it on the northwest over lower Syria and the Hedjaz; its independence was somewhat tempered with unequal alliances with the Roman, and subsequently the Byzantine Empire. It was founded in the first century of the Christian era, shortly after the flood of Mareb; and its duration, till subdued by the all-conquering prophet, exceeded six hundred years.

A fourth government, that of Kindeh, detached itself from Irak early in the fifth century, and united under its sceptre the tribes of northerly Nejd and even those of Oman, for about 160 years. Its kings were, like those before mentioned, of Yemenite origin; but their rule was weak and disturbed by frequent wars.

[107]

Much has been written by Arab authors regarding the great inundation, as they term it, of Arem or Mareb, possibly a tropical cyclone of more than ordinary destructiveness, like that of 1867 in the West Indies; and this event they love to assign as the proximate cause which dispersed the families of Yemen over northern Arabia, and led to the foundation of the kingdoms of Irak and Ghassan. But the reality of the events, physical or political, symbolised by the “flood of Arem” (a counterpart, after its fashion, of the biblical flood) cannot now be well deciphered.

This is however certain—in that the Yemenite Arabs, and especially those who tenanted the south of the peninsula, had, during the period now cursorily sketched, attained a very fair degree of civilisation—that arts and commerce flourished, that wealth was accumulated, literature cultivated, and talent held in esteem. On all these points we have not only the uncertain and distorted testimony of foreign authors, such as Strabo, Pliny, Diodorus, Ptolemy, and the like, but the more positive though fragmentary evidence afforded by the national writings, chiefly verse, that have survived to our day. In its general character and institutions the kingdom of Yemen seems to have borne a considerable resemblance to the neighbouring one of the Nile valley, on the other side of the Red Sea, and, like it, to have reached at a very early epoch a relatively high degree of prosperity and social culture, from which, however, it had long declined before its final extinction in the seventh century. But the daughter-kingdom of Hira had, as was natural, something of a Persian tinge; while that of Ghassan took a more Byzantine colouring. Lastly, the nomadic element predominated in the ill-cemented monarchy of Kindeh.

But while the sceptre of Yemen was yet, in one form or other, outstretched over the length and breadth of the land, and its children, the genuine or African Arabs, formed a complete and dense circle of population all around, the centre of Arabia remained the stronghold of a different though kindred race, in their mode of living wild and ferocious; less susceptible of culture, but gifted with greater energy and concentration of purpose than their southern cousins. The latest recorded emigration of this branch of the Arab stock had been not from the south but the north; and instead of the mythical Kahtan, they claimed a no less mythical Adnan, or his supposed grandson Nezar, for their ancestor; their language, though radically identical with that spoken by the genuine Arabs, was yet dialectically different in several respects, and nearer to the Syriac or Hebrew. Lastly, unlike the Arabs from the south, they had little disposition for agriculture, and even less for architecture and the fine arts; their instincts leading them to a pastoral and consequently a nomadic life. The almost infinite ramifications of these “Mustareb” or “adscititious Arab” tribes lead ultimately up to five principal stocks. These were Rabiah, which, however, laid some claim to a Yemenite kinsmanship in the east centre of the peninsula; Koreish, on the west; Kais, or Kais-Ailan, and Hawazin, on the north; and Tamin in the middle.

History has left unrecorded the exact date of their arrival in Arabia; nor has she defined the period during which they remained tributaries, though often refractory, of the kings of Yemen. But in the fifth century of the Christian era there appeared among the Mustareb tribes a leader of extraordinary talent and energy named Kolaib, sprung from the tribe of Rabiah, who having, in the fashion of William Tell, slain with his own hand the insolent and licentious tax-gatherer sent them from Sana, raised the banner of general revolt in Nejd; and, in the battle of Hazat (500 A.D.), broke forever[108] the bonds of Yemen from off the neck of the northern Arabs. This done, Kolaib aspired to unite his countrymen into one vast confederacy, over which he himself exercised for a time an almost kingly power; but the scheme was prematurely broken off by his own assassination. Left now without a master, but also without a ruler, the Mustareb tribes found themselves involved in a series of wars that lasted during the whole of the sixth century, their heroic period. Yet in spite of severe losses sustained in battle by this or that particular clan, their power as a whole went on increasing, till at the dawn of the seventh century they had wholly absorbed the feeble kingdom of Kindeh, and encroached yearly more and more on the narrowing bounds of Yemen, Irak, and Ghassan.

Nor, probably, would they have stayed till they had become absolute lords over the whole, or nearly the whole, of the peninsula, had there not developed itself from among themselves a still more energetic element which, before many years had passed, reduced both northern and southern Arabs alike to common obedience, then raised them to an unexpected height of common glory, and at last plunged them, along with itself, into one comprehensive decline and ruin. This new and potent element was the well-known clan of Fihr or Koreish. Its families, of Mustareb descent, had at an early period, which subsequent and Mohammedan chroniclers have tried to identify with the fortunes of the mythical Ismail, established themselves in the southerly Hedjaz, near the town of Mecca, a locality even then the principal religious and commercial centre of Arabia. Already, at the beginning of the fifth century, the chiefs of Koreish had, by a mixture of violence and craft very characteristic of their race, rendered themselves the masters and the acknowledged guardians of the sacred “Kaaba.” This square stone temple, or rather shrine, itself of unknown antiquity, was situated within the precincts of the town of Mecca; and to it the Arabs were in the habit of bringing yearly offerings, and of making devout pilgrimages, for centuries before Mohammed had adopted it into the new ritual of Islam as the house of the true God. The keys of the consecrated building had originally been in possession of delegates appointed by the monarch of Yemen; but the Koreish Arabs, having once obtained them, held them fast forever after, and successfully repelled every effort, both of their own pagan competitors and of the invading Christian Abyssinians (570 A.D.), to recapture or to seize them. Their possession of the temple keys not only gave the tribe of Koreish a semi-religious pre-eminence over all the other clans of Arabia, but also placed at their disposal the treasures of gold, silver, jewels, and other offerings accumulated by the pagan piety of ages in the temple of Mecca.

A more important, as also a more creditable, source of wealth to the Koreish clan was their Red Sea coast traffic, particularly with the ports of Yemen and Abyssinia. Jiddah has been always the chief westerly seaport,[109] and Mecca, which is only a few leagues distant, the principal inland emporium, of Arab trade; and under the dominating influence of the clever and active merchants of Koreish, both places acquired special prosperity and importance.

Lastly, only a day’s journey distant from Mecca, was held, in the pre-Islamitic times, the great yearly fair and gathering of Okad, so called from the name of the plain where it used to assemble—a national meeting, frequented by men of all conditions, from all quarters of the Arab peninsula, and lasting through the entire month of Dhul-kaadeh, which in pagan, as subsequently in Mohammedan reckoning, immediately preceded the ceremonies of the annual pilgrimage. Here horse races, athletic games, poetical recitals, and every kind of public amusement, diversified the more serious commercial transactions of an open fair, that, in its comprehensiveness, almost assumed the proportions of a national exhibition. Here, too, matters of the highest import, questions of peace and war, of treaty and alliance, of justice and revenge, were habitually treated by the chiefs of the northern Arabs; the “children of Mezar,” to give them their favourite Mustareb patronymic, assembled in a sort of amphictyonic council, not less ancient, but while it lasted much more influential throughout Arabia, than that of Thebes ever had been in classic Greece. In this assembly the immediate local proximity of the Koreish chiefs, joined to their personal wealth, courage, and address, assigned them a predominant position.

Of their pedigree, which, as is well known, includes that of Mohammed himself, we have a carefully (too carefully, indeed, for authenticity) constructed chronicle, bringing the family tree up in due form to Ishmael, the son of Abraham, of whom the Koreish figure as the direct descendants. In the same artificial annals the Yemenite, or genuine Arabs, appear under the cousinly character of the children of Joktan, the son of Eber. On these points all Mohammedan annalists are equally positive and distinct; all other Arab testimony is equally adverse or silent. That a fable so utterly defiant of reasonable chronology, and even of the common sense of history itself, should have been adopted as matter of fact by Arab vanity and ignorance, is less surprising than that it should have found favour in the eyes of not a few, indeed of most, of our own European writers. Enough here to say that Mohammedan chroniclers, by adopting as irrefragable historical authority the Jewish records, and then retouching them here and there in accordance with their own special predictions and tenets, have succeeded in concealing the truth of their own national identity and story from themselves and even from others, under an almost hopeless incrustation of childish fiction.

To sum up, at the opening of the seventh century of our era, and coincidently with the first appearance of the prophetic autocrat and destined remodeller of Arabia, the overteeming life and energy of the great peninsula was, broadly taken, thus divided: Foremost stood the tribe of Koreish, with their allies, a powerful confederacy composed of tribes belonging to the Mustareb or northern stock, and occupying the upper half of the westerly coast and region. Next in importance came the countless independent, and, thus far, uncentralised clans of the centre of the peninsula; they, too, are mostly of Mustareb origin; though a few claimed the more ancient and aristocratic kinsmanship of Yemen, but without, however, paying any allegiance to its rulers. Lastly, to the south, east, and north, still existed the noble but enfeebled relics of the old Yemenite kingdoms of Sana, Hira, and Ghassan, half-sunk into Persian or Byzantine vassalage, and exerting little authority, even within their own ancestral limits.

[110]

But, however important to the country itself and in their ultimate results to the world at large might be the events that took place within Arabia during the pre-Islamitic epoch, they had small bearing on the nations outside the peninsula. The Yemenite queen of Sheba’s ambassage to Solomon, even if an historical event, led at least to no historical results; and with other coeval rulers and nationalities, Greek, Persian, and Macedonian, the Arabs rarely came into any other contact than that of distant and desultory traffic. Nor do the frontier skirmishes by which an Antigonus or a Ptolemy attempted, without success, to gain a footing in Arabia, deserve more than a passing notice; and Pompey himself, victorious elsewhere, was foiled on its frontiers.

At last during the reign of Augustus, Ælius Gallus, the Roman prefect of Egypt, undertook a military expedition against Yemen itself, with the view of annexing that region, which report enriched with immense treasures, to the Roman Empire. With an army composed of ten thousand Roman infantry, five hundred Jews, and one thousand Nabatæans, he crossed the Red Sea in two hundred and ten galleys, and landed at Moilah, or Leuce Come, in 25° N. lat., near the modern Yambo. After some delay, the consequence of disease and disorganisation among his troops, he marched southward until he reached the inland district and city of Nejran, on the nearer frontier of Yemen. The town of Nejran he is said to have taken by assault, as well as a few neighbouring places, probably mere villages, of little note.

Meanwhile a large force of Arabs had assembled to oppose him, but Gallus easily defeated them, and advanced to Mareb itself, then, we may suppose, the capital of Yemen. But the Roman soldiers, unaccustomed to the heat of the tropical climate, and much reduced in numbers, were incapable of laying siege to that town; and their general thus found himself forced to retreat, and recrossed the sea to Egypt without having effected any permanent settlement on the Arab side. Later attempts, made by Roman governors or generals under Trajan and Severus, were restricted to the neighbourhood of the Assyrian frontier; and the ruined cities of Bosrah and Petra yet indicate the landmarks of the extreme southerly limits reached by imperial dominion over Arab territory.

More serious, and more lasting in its consequences, was the great Abyssinian invasion of Yemen in 529, when Aryat, son or lieutenant of the king of Abyssinia, landed in Aden with an army of seventy thousand men, to avenge his co-religionists, the Christians, who had been cruelly persecuted by Dhu-Nowas, king of Yemen, himself a proselyte to and an ardent propagator of the Jewish code. The expedition was successful; Dhu-Nowas perished, Christianity was proclaimed, and for seventy-six years the Ethiopian conquerors retained subject to their rule the southern and richer half of the peninsula. Their king Abraha even advanced, in 570 A.D. (the year of the birth of Mohammed) as far as Mecca; but beneath its walls suffered a repulse, which has been magnified by the Koran and Mohammedan tradition into the proportions of a miracle. Persian assistance, furnished by the great Chosroes, ultimately enabled the Arabs under Seif, son of Yezen, last direct lineal descendant of the old kings of Sana, to liberate their territory from its dusky usurpers (605 A.D.).

The seventh century had now commenced, and before long the wonderful successes of Mohammed (622-632 A.D.), while they closed in one great centralising effort the era of Arab progress and development within the land, opened a marvellous phase of new activity and almost boundless extension without.l

---

[111]

CHAPTER IV. MOHAMMED

Mohammed ben Abdallah ben Abdul-Muttalib

While the poets in their stories were moulding the language to a more uniform character, another work was going on in men’s minds which contributed to found Arab nationality in a more decisive manner; there was no more belief in the idols which had, at an early date, taken the place of the one God, Allah; religious sentiment burst out on every side. Already wide schisms were apparent; entire tribes had abandoned the former worship. Besides idolatry, several religions were to be found in Arabia. The Jews, driven from their country by the Assyrians, the Romans, and the Greeks, had been warmly welcomed by the children of Ishmael, who found in the traditions of the exiles a deep respect for the God of Abraham; by means of these souvenirs skilfully evoked, Judaism had made converts. It was principally seen spread throughout Hedjaz, in the neighbourhood of Khaibar and Yathreb, where powerful tribes, those of the Koraizas and the Nadhirites, had long been naturalised. A large portion of the tribes of Yemen had also adopted it; and some of the Tobbas had favoured the introduction of the faith of Moses into their states, principally towards the years 225, 310, and 495 A.D. Sabaism or magianism was also practised by the Himyarites and on the coast of the Persian Gulf; some disciples of Brahmanism were even to be found in the midst of the inhabitants of Oman.

RELIGIOUS UNREST

Christianity, successfully preached in several parts of Arabia, was professed by the Ghassanides in the year 330, and by various Arab tribes of Irak, Mesopotamia, Bahrein, the desert of Faran, and Damut-Jandal. The combined efforts of the negus of Abyssinia and of the emperor of Constantinople had contributed to spread the Gospel in Yemen. The Christian colony of Nejran had been honoured by persecution under Dhu-Nowas towards 523; fifty years later, Abraha sought to make of the church of Sana the[112] goal of Arab pilgrimages. Lastly several kings of Hira had been favourable to the religion of Christ.

In the midst of the new ideas which preaching had spread throughout the peninsula, idolatry nevertheless remained the dominant religion. The intermediary divinities which certain tribes adored bore no resemblance to those creations of the Greeks and Romans, who worshipped moral beings clothed in bodily forms; they were, as with the ancient Egyptians, animals and plants, the gazelle, the horse, the camel, palm trees, vegetables, or inorganic bodies, rocks, stones, etc. All the Arabs acknowledged one supreme God, Allah; but some of them worshipped under the figure of their idols, the angels Benat-allah (the daughters of God); others, the planets or stars such as Aldebaran, Sirius, Canope, etc. They believed in genii, Jinn, in ogres, Ghol, in witchcraft, Shir, in divination, Kehana, in sacrifices, in oracles; fate was consulted by means of arrows without points, kidah or azlam, and the most blamable superstitious rites were still almost universally practised. A great number of tribes had their special idols, Hobal, Lat, etc., who were honoured by rich offerings, and in whose honour victims were slain; however, no temple had the fame of the Kaaba, whose pre-eminence was universally admitted.

This temple, which Abraha al-Ashram had wished to destroy, had been throughout the ages the object of the greatest veneration; it was looked on as a present made by Jehovah to the Arab race to bear witness to its condition privileged beyond all others. It was the oratory of Abraham and of Ishmael, the house of Allah; on receiving the 360 idols, subordinate powers accepted by the Arabs, it included all their divinities and became the Pantheon of the nation; the traditions connected with it were dear to all. They made the Kaaba a place of pilgrimage. They laboured to adorn it, to beautify it; they would have liked it to surpass in riches all the monuments of the universe; they hung the Moallakat in it, as if to connect with it every form of illustration. The Sabians, the fire-worshippers, sent their offerings to it; even the Jews showed a deep respect for this revered spot. The guardians of the temple, the Koreish clan, had a sort of religious authority which was willingly recognised by all; for instance, they had the right to name the sacred months during which, after the pilgrimage, a suspension of arms should reign throughout Arabia. So those who could attend the fair of Okad placed their weapons in the hands of the Koreish chiefs before entering the meeting, which, without this wise precaution, would often have degenerated into bloody fights. It was therefore necessary to have influence at Mecca and with the Koreish chiefs if one wished to found a uniform and national religion in Arabia, and Mohammed saw this perfectly.

Abdul-Muttalib, the son of Hashim, born in 497, exercised supreme authority in Mecca, from 520 to 579; he had the glory of delivering his country from the invasion of the Abyssinians, and he saw a Himyarite prince drive the foreigners from Yemen with the help of the king of Persia. Father of eighteen children, he believed himself bound by a rash vow to sacrifice one of his sons, in 569, before the idols of the Kaaba; fate fixed on one he loved the most, Abdallah, about twenty-four years of age. At the moment of the sacrifice, some of the Koreish chiefs rose against so barbarous an action and so fatal an example; by their advice a witch, arrafa, was consulted, who declared that Abdallah’s life might be purchased by means of the dia (price of human blood), and by drawing lots. The dia consisting of ten camels, the number ten was inscribed on a pointless arrow, and on another the name of Abdallah; nine times the name of Abdallah[113] appeared, and it was only the tenth time that the camels were condemned. So a hundred were killed instead of Abdallah, and this number became thenceforth among the Koreish chiefs the price of the dia.

A few days later Abdallah married Amina, daughter of Wahb, chief of the family of the Zohri, and from this marriage was born Mohammed, “the glorified,” about the month of August, 570.b

Mohammed’s Life

Mohammed (properly Muhammad, “the much praised”; and not Mahomet), was born in Mecca five years after the death of Justinian. The small inheritance which his father left him consisted of five camels and a faithful female slave. The biographers inform us that according to the custom which prevailed among the upper classes in Mecca, his mother Amina put the child out to nurse in the country. Halima, the wife of a herdsman, was his foster-mother and nurse till his third year, and the sacred legend tells us of many wonders with which the divine favour surrounded Mohammed’s childhood. Halima’s flocks and herds increased tenfold; her fields bore a superabundant harvest; angels cleansed the child’s heart from all sins and filled it with faith, knowledge and prophetic gifts. As, however, the child suffered from fits of convulsions, at the end of two years Halima brought him back to his mother. With her he remained till his sixth year. She then went with him to Yathreb (Medina), to visit her relatives, but died on the way back in the town of Abwa.

Mohammed now entered the house of his grandfather, Abdul-Muttalib, and when two years later the latter also died, his uncle Abu Talib took him into his family and watched over him with paternal affection. The story that in his twelfth year he accompanied his foster-father on a caravan journey to Syria, and that on this occasion a Christian monk foretold the boy’s future greatness, appears, like many other details of his life, to be a later legend. As he grew older, after having spent some time in guarding the flocks, Mohammed took his share in the business and manner of life of his relatives. He accompanied several of his uncles on warlike and commercial expeditions, in which he learned to know his country and his nation, and beheld the desert with its terrors and its poetry, where he heard the legends and traditions of the wandering tribes and gathered information concerning the teachings of the beliefs of Jew and Christian. He did not himself understand the language of writing, but Mecca as the pilgrim city of the East was one of the world’s centres, a school of culture containing much instruction for a thoughtful youth. The Christian religion, indeed, appears to have been known to him only by a few legends and distorted doctrines; but on the other hand the Jewish sect of the Hanifs, who lived scattered over the oases of the desert, had preserved and handed down Judaism in its original purity and simplicity, together with the belief in divine revelations at the mouth of inspired prophets.

HIS MARRIAGE WITH KHADIJA

In his twenty-fifth year Khadija, the wealthy widow of a merchant, who like himself was descended from Kussai, intrusted him with the conduct of some caravans going to Syria and southern Arabia. In the execution of[114] these commissions Mohammed showed so much circumspection, skill, and honesty, that Khadija though already forty years old permitted him to make application for her hand. The wedding was solemnly performed and it founded Mohammed’s fortune. Khadija was an intelligent and virtuous woman, and a faithful companion to her husband in good and evil days. “She was his first convert, she comforted him when he was mocked, she encouraged him when he suffered under persecution, she strengthened him when he was wavering.” But for the love and faith of Khadija, Mohammed would never have become the prophet of his nation.

“Although poor in goods which are but transient possessions, inconstant shadows,” said Abu Talib at the marriage feast, “my nephew Mohammed exceeds all the men of the Koreish in nobility of soul, virtue, and understanding.”

The marriage was blessed with children, but the sons died at a tender age; and of the four daughters only the youngest, Fatima, continued the race. Mohammed recognised and valued Khadija’s superior qualities. In spite of his great fondness for the female sex he remained faithful to her so long as she lived, and after her death held her memory in high honour. Aisha, his beloved wife of later days, said she was never so jealous of any of his other wives as she was of the dead Khadija whom he always declared to be a model for all women.

For more than a decade after his marriage Mohammed continued his life as a merchant, but with little success and little content. He was often seen to be deep in thought; he withdrew more and more into solitude, spending many days and generally the whole of the month Ramadhan in a cave in Mount Hira, not far from Mecca. Sometimes he went into this retirement alone, sometimes with Khadija.

There in that gloomy neighbourhood, full of naked rocks, yawning precipices, and grim ravines where no shade affords protection from the blazing sunlight, where no grass, no vegetation, no sound of falling water refreshes the spirit, he gave himself up to religious contemplations and considered how he might save his nation from its degradation. In the city of Mecca, all alive as it was with people, as well as on his journeys, he had been brought much in contact with Jews and Christians; he had not only absorbed their teaching and traditions, but from the effects of their religion on life and character he had perceived the superiority of the belief in one God over the idolatrous heathenism of his own nation; and he had also learned that both religious fraternities still waited for the completion of their religion; the Jews looking for the advent of a messiah, the Christians for the return of Jesus or the appearance of the promised “comforter” (paraclete). Thus there gradually awoke in him the conviction that his people stood in need of a purer revealed religion, that the idols were but vain trifles, and that their worship excited the anger of God; that a new and divinely inspired prophet must come forward, who should overturn the kingdom of darkness and idolatry, and his fiery imagination filled him with the belief that the one God had sent him to convert mankind that they might become participators in the joys of heaven, and escape the fearful chastisements of hell. His nervous, hysterical nature, the violent convulsions and cataleptic fits which seized him from time to time, the vivid dreams and mental delusions produced by his feverish and excited fancy, might well engender in himself and others the belief that he had relations with angels and spirits, and was a sharer in divine visions and inspirations. Mohammed had already passed his fortieth year when he “began to feel the travail of new ideas.”

[115]

MOHAMMED AS A PROPHET (610 OR 612 A.D.)

Once when he was dwelling in the gloomy cavern he had a vision, in which the angel Gabriel approached him and commanded him to publish abroad the revelations which the Lord and Creator had sent. Mohammed felt his spirit illuminated with a divine light; but doubting lest a demon should be playing him an evil trick, he came to Khadija, his face streaming with perspiration and utterly discomposed. She believed in the divine message, and in union with her learned cousin Waraka, who had already denied the pagan beliefs of the fathers, she laboured to dispel his doubt.

Soon the angel appeared to him a second time, and gave him an assurance that he was not possessed by demons but called of God to spread the revelations of heaven. Mohammed now believed and announced that Allah, the lord of heaven and earth, had chosen him as his ambassador to inform men of his holy will; he now believed and taught that the Lord spake by him, and that his utterances were inspirations and revelations from the only and most high God, and being written down separately and eventually put together in the sacred book Koran,c they were so regarded by the faithful and accepted with reverence. Thus began Mohammed’s prophetic career in the year 610 or 612 of our era. Like the seers of old, like the prophets in Israel, he took the enthusiasm which dwelt in him as a “charge from the Lord,” and the words which issued from his mouth as the outpourings of the divine spirit.

Convinced of the truth of his prophetic mission, Mohammed now entered on his office of teacher. But with all his devotion to the holy cause he went to work with great caution. He first turned to his kinsmen that he might be recognised by them as the messenger of God. His wife Khadija, his daughters, his cousin Ali, the ten-year-old son of Abu Talib, his friend Abu Bekr, a well-to-do merchant of upright character and clear discernment, and his former slave Zaid to whom he had given his liberty were his first converts. In like manner he avoided anything which might have irritated his compatriots.

“He sought to bring his teaching into harmony with their prejudices and to lead them gradually to a better knowledge. He did not venture to attack the sanctity of the Kaaba, joined in the ceremonies of the pilgrim festival, and sanctioned the adoration of the Black Stone.”

Thus three years went by, during which the number of Mohammed’s adherents did not exceed forty, for the most part young men, foreigners or slaves. It was not till the fourth year that in accordance with another vision he attempted to appear publicly in the character of a prophet. He first addressed himself to the men of his own race, the Koreish; and in the name of the one God who had sent him as his apostle, threatened them with the fire of hell if they did not renounce their unbelief.

“One day ye shall die and rise again; then must ye give account of your deeds and shall be rewarded for your virtue in paradise and punished for your vices in hell.”

But far from winning a hearing he reaped mockery and scorn. Already in the first assembly his uncle Abu Lahab had lifted a stone against him; and although the rest of his kinsmen protected him from ill-treatment, the hatred and opposition of the Koreish increased with each new oration. The more clearly they perceived that Mohammed’s claims as a prophet might endanger their priestly position and their lucrative privileges as guardians of the holy temple, the more fiercely did their anger burn, and the more[116] vehement became their threats and abuse. His chief opponents were the Koreish of the line of the Abd Shams, under the leadership of Abu Sufyan and Abu Hakam, called by Mohammed, Abu Jahl (the father of folly), two bitter enemies of the new prophet. It was only to the protection of his nearest relatives that Mohammed owed his rescue from the violence of his enemies and persecutors. On the other hand the position of his adherents of humble rank, who had no such powerful protectors to stand by them, especially of the slaves and freedmen, grew daily more insecure; so that in order that they might escape torture and scourging the prophet allowed some of his followers to deny him outwardly “if only the heart remained steadfast in the faith,” and on his advice a number of believing men and women, amongst them his daughter Rokayyah and her husband Othman, took ship for Abyssinia, where the king, a Nestorian Christian, assured them a refuge. In vain did the Koreish through Amru and another ambassador, offer the prince rich gifts for the delivery of the refugees; the Abyssinian kept his hands pure of any injury to those who had sought his protection. He may have perceived that the persecuted stood nearer to the true faith than the idol worshippers of the Kaaba.

MOHAMMED AN OUTLAW

The invective and ill-treatment which Mohammed had to suffer increased the number of his followers, whilst indignation at the abuse and insults to which he was daily exposed without any fault of his own led certain brave men of chivalrous disposition to take his part. Amongst them were Mohammed’s uncle Hamza, “the lion of God,” and Jahl’s nephew Omar. Having been sent by his relatives to kill the prophet for a great reward, on the way to the latter’s dwelling Omar was suddenly and miraculously converted by hearing his sister Fatima read a passage of the Koran, and from being a persecutor he became an earnest believer. Omar, then twenty-six years old, was a man of gigantic stature, of fabulous strength, and great courage. His wild aspect terrified the boldest, and his staff struck more fear into the beholder than would have been inspired by another man’s sword.

But the more devotees “Islam” i.e., “submission” (to the will of God) acquired, the more eagerly did its enemies seek to stifle the work in the blood of its author. New persecutions increased the number of the emigrants; only Mohammed and his most faithful worshippers were protected by Abu Talib from the rage of the sons of Shams and Naufal. He hid them in a strong castle without the city, in the depths of an impassable ravine, and when their powerful enemies laid a ban on all the followers of the prophet and the whole race of Hashim and solemnly declared in a roll which was hung up in the interior of the Kaaba that until he was given up they would treat his protectors as enemies, the faithful uncle betook himself to the rocky fortress with many of his kinsmen. For three years they lived in the barren desert, cut off from all communication with the city, whither they could venture only in the sacred months, and often they were in want of the most necessary means of existence. Finally the ban, which had excited the greatest discontent in Mecca, and of which even the sons of Shams were beginning to grow weary, was removed. The parchment roll disappeared from the Kaaba, according to the legend, by a miracle. Mohammed now returned to Mecca (circa 620); but soon the death of his paternal friend and protector, Abu Talib, who was followed to the grave a few days[117] later by his faithful wife Khadija, exposed him to fresh dangers. Abu Talib died in the religion of his fathers; he had always honoured his nephew as an upright and god-fearing man, but he had never believed in his prophetic mission. Mohammed sincerely mourned them both.

“Never was there a better wife than Khadija,” he said once to the youthful and beautiful Aisha; “she believed in me when men despised me; she relieved my wants when I was poor and despised by the world.” Nevertheless he soon consoled himself for her loss by his marriage to Sauda and his betrothal to Aisha, the seven-year old daughter of Abu Bekr.

While the prophet was leading a melancholy existence under scorn and ignominy, sometimes in Mecca, sometimes in the society of a few friends in Taif, a place lying in a fruitful region on the borders of the hill country, hiding himself with difficulty from the snares and persecutions of his enemies, his soul felt itself comforted and exalted by new visions. He saw in the spirit how he was borne on a winged horse to the temple at Jerusalem and thence to the seventh heaven to the presence of God, where the patriarchs, the earlier prophets, and the hosts of angels yielded him precedence, and the Lord himself proclaimed him as the crown and aim of creation. He needed this self-confidence, this firm belief in his high message, to keep him from wavering and succumbing to the storms and dangers which gathered over his head.

But whilst the inhabitants of Mecca hardened their hearts against the doctrine of the one God, revealing himself through the new prophet, Mohammed won eager devotees from a host of pilgrims from Yathreb, afterwards called Medina, i.e., the city, to whom he unfolded the principles of Islam on the “mount of homage,” Akaba. They belonged to the distinguished tribe of the Khazraj who, in conjunction with the tribe of Aus had, in the fifth century, wrested the lordship of Medina from the Jews; and on their return to their native city they worked in secret for the new faith for which, in consequence of their relations with the numerous Jewish tribes in the neighbourhood, they were better prepared than the Meccans. In spite of the jealousy of the tribes of Aus towards the Khazraj, by the energy of the learned Masab, whom Mohammed sent to Medina as his forerunner and as reader of the Koran, Islam soon obtained a firm foothold in the city; so that two years later his adherents could venture to invite the prophet to visit them. With this object seventy-three believers journeyed to Mecca and in an assembly held at night on that same hill of homage they made a covenant with Mohammed. They vowed, and gave their hands on the promise, to pray only to the one God and to none other gods, to honour the prophet, to obey him in joy and sorrow, and always confess the truth without fear of man. Under the guidance of twelve leaders, whom Mohammed selected from amongst them, the men of Medina (who thenceforth bore the name of Ansar, i.e., those who give aid) returned to their own city in the company of many believers.

THE HEGIRA (622 A.D.)

But Mohammed, with his most faithful adherents Abu Bekr and Ali, remained in Mecca three months longer. Only when he was informed by a secret worshipper that the Koreish had determined to murder him, did he depart on his flight with Abu Bekr, both mounted on swift camels. Whilst the enemy was surrounding his house, the craft and fidelity of Ali, who occupied the prophet’s bed and assumed his garments, enabled him and his[118] friend to flee secretly in the darkness of the night and conceal themselves in a cave. Next morning, when the Koreish discovered the deception, they set a price of a hundred camels on the head of the fugitive and sent in pursuit of him. But Mohammed’s destiny was not yet fulfilled. After having spent three days and nights in the cave of Mount Thaur, he succeeded in escaping with his companion by by-paths to Medina. With this flight, which was afterwards assigned to the 16th of July of the year 622 according to our reckoning, begins the Hegira, the era of the Mohammedans or Moslems (Mussulmans), i.e., the “submissive.” [Ali remained three days after his master had left. Considerable property had been entrusted to Mohammed for safe keeping; and it was Ali’s duty to restore this to its owners.]

The people of Medina received Mohammed with joyous enthusiasm; his entrance into the town resembled that of a triumphant prince rather than a poor fugitive. Soon the rest of his friends and followers gathered round him, amongst them Ali whom the Koreish had allowed to go unharmed, Omar, with his beautiful daughter Hafsa, whom some time afterward the prophet included in the number of his wives, and Othman with his wife Rokayyah. When the last-named died in the following year, Mohammed gave his second daughter Um Kolthum in marriage to his faithful comrade. The case containing the inspired sayings of the Koran was entrusted to the care of Hafsa.

The prophet’s presence had the most beneficial results for Medina. The two tribes of the Khazraj and the Aus, who in former years had often engaged in bloody conflicts, were united in the new faith as the faithful “helpers” of God’s messenger, and in conjunction with the emigrants from Mecca (Mohajira) formed the kernel of the Moslems. At first Mohammed attempted to win over the numerous Jews of Medina to his cause, and for this reason paid attention in many respects to the Mosaic law; he continued the observance of the Sabbath, and made Jerusalem the Kibla, i.e., the holy place, towards which the faithful had to turn their faces when they prayed. But when the Jews refused to recognise him as the expected Messiah as they had formerly refused to recognise Jesus, but rather made the new prophet an object of their scorn, he once more turned to the old Arab faith. He removed the Kibla to Mecca, appointed Friday as the day of devotion and religious observance, and eventually wielded the scourge of religious persecution over Jews and heathens without distinction.

Many of the emigrant Meccans were overtaken by illness and homesickness in this foreign land, and in order to make up to them for the loss of their relatives and belongings, Mohammed founded a system of brotherhood among fifty-four believers from Mecca and a like number from Medina, so that two men united in this “brotherhood of faith” should stand closer to each other, even in the matter of inheritance, than blood relations,—an institution which lasted, however, only until the foreigners had settled into the new life.

A second period in the history of the development of Islam begins in Medina. But however brilliantly and successfully Mohammed’s prophetic labours might continue from this time forward, his character during the period of his fortune was less spotless, his conviction less sincere, his motives less pure than in the dark and suffering time of persecution and oppression. His revelations, which he received from the angel Gabriel as occasion arose, were circulated as inspired sayings amongst the people, partly through oral tradition, partly in fly-leaves until they were put together in one whole as the holy writing (Koran). They were not drawn up without occasional[119] adjustment to the circumstances of the moment and to his own appetites, a transformation which reveals itself even in the form and the language. For whilst in the parts drawn up in Mecca poetic enthusiasm prevails to an undue extent, in Medina the oratorical element is more in the foreground; for Mohammed, all too closely bound to material things, was no longer able to disengage himself from them. In the lack of personal conviction which now supervened, if he wished to rise above the commonplace he had to supply the inner impulse by affected vividness, and the truth firmly believed by empty sophistry; and from his manner of writing it is easy to see that his thoughts no longer spring from a warm heart, but are the products of a cold intellect. No longer following the suggestions of his mind can he allow his discourse to pursue its natural course; all must now be thought out beforehand, for it is no longer guided by the spirit of God but by his own ego. The first mosque, a simple, artless building made of the wood of date trees, which was erected soon after his arrival in Medina, became a sacred centre of his teaching. From its roof, five times each day, the steadfast devotee Bilal summoned the faithful to prayer.

Hitherto Islam had been a religion of peace and love, and Mohammed had inculcated no precept as he had that of gentleness in word and deed. But now that he found himself at the head of a submissive host of followers and in a position to oppose his enemies by force of arms, he declared the struggle against the infidel, the spread of his doctrines by fire and sword, to be the sacred duty binding on all Moslems, a precept which gave Islam an aggressive direction and had in its results a world-shaking significance. Not to bring peace, but a sword, had he, the last and greatest of the prophets, appeared on earth; the struggle against the enemies of Islam was a sacred struggle; he who fell in the contest would pass, free from all sin and punishment, safely into paradise, that abode of the blessed which he had painted to his converts with all the ardour of his imagination as a place of earthly pleasures and all the joys of sense; and still further to inflame their courage he planted in their souls the contempt of death by teaching them that the duration of life as well as the destiny and end of mankind had been fixed beforehand by a divine decree, by an unchangeable fate; if the hour of death had come, none could escape his destiny, if the end of life had not yet approached, he might unhesitatingly venture the utmost.

Relying on the warlike impulse which such doctrines must have engendered in the fiery soul of the Arab, Mohammed, at the head of his fellow tribesmen, allies, and believing followers, now undertook warlike expeditions against the Koreish who had driven him from his native city. He knew that he could not more effectively punish the haughty merchant princes of Mecca than by lying in wait for their caravans and robbing them of the valuable[120] wares which they were accustomed to take to Syria. At the same time he could absolutely rely on the assistance of his new fellow-citizens in these struggles, for the merchants of Mecca looked down with contempt on the agricultural people of Medina. He himself generally marched into the field more to fire the courage of the combatants by his prayers and promises of heavenly support than for the purpose of himself bearing the white standard, which he generally entrusted to the valiant Omar, or the heroic Ali, the “father of the dust.”

Ali, to whom Mohammed gave his favourite daughter Fatima in marriage at Medina, is the purest and noblest figure among the followers of Mohammed, the “Siegfried of Islam,” as a modern writer has designated him. All his life he adhered to the prophet and the faith of his youth with complete submission and eager admiration. If his fiery, pure, and magnanimous character made him the boast and ornament of the Moslems, he was also by his heroism and bravery the bold vindicator of Islam, the trumpet of the strife in struggle and danger.

If at first warfare was suspended during the sacred months, according to the practice of former generations, Mohammed soon tore down this barrier. For instance, Abdallah ben Jash fell on the Koreish in the valley of Nakhla during the sacred month of Rajab, robbed their wagons, and slew some of the escort and took others prisoners; and when the prophet, who had himself recommended this act to the leader in a dubiously worded document, perceived that it had excited general indignation, he issued a proclamation by which war against the infidel was declared to be lawful at any period—a proof “that he was no longer acting according to the will of God but according to his own will”; and that the utterances of the Koran were so many “pictures reflecting” his own position. In the second year of the Hegira the fight of Bedr took place; and here was manifested for the first time how the hope of a blessed hereafter had filled the believing Moslems with an enthusiasm which defied death and despised pain.

THE BATTLE OF BEDR (624 A.D.)

In order to rescue a large caravan from danger and distress, the Koreish marched into the field a thousand strong, with seven hundred camels and one hundred horses. The train of merchandise escaped the ambush by the clever management of Abu Sufyan, but nevertheless Abu Jahl persisted in the conflict. At Bedr, a camping ground and market, noted even at the present day for its plentiful supply of water, the Meccans encountered the hostile bands, who were not half so strong, and made ready for battle. Three Meccans, kinsmen of those who had fallen at Nakhla, came forward and challenged three of the opposite party to single combat. Hamza, Ali, and Obaida opposed themselves to them and slew them, whereupon the fight became general. Mohammed, who was watching the encounter from a leafy hut on a rising ground and praying to God with great ardour and excitement that he would not allow his faithful few to be destroyed, suddenly declared that victory had been promised him in a vision, and flinging a handful of dust after the Koreish, he called out, “Shame on their faces!”

Soon confusion seized the enemy and the battle ended with a complete defeat of the Koreish. Seventy heads of distinguished houses were slain during the battle or on the flight. Amongst the fallen were Otba and[121] Shaiba, and, above all Abu Jahl (called the enemy of God), Mohammed’s bitterest opponent; amongst the prisoners were his uncle Abbas and Abul-Aas, the husband of his eldest daughter Zainab. Both were ransomed and returned to Mecca. Abbas probably henceforth served his nephew as a spy and Abul-Aas had to send his wife back to her father. Two other prisoners, Al-Nadr and Okba, who had belonged to Mohammed’s most eager adversaries in Mecca, were executed. But the prophet, always inclined to mildness, deplored the rash act when he heard the touching lament of the former’s daughter, a lament which is still preserved to us. For the rest, the battle of Bedr was of the greatest importance for the victory of Islam, and in consequence all the combatants whose names were entered in the lists henceforth formed the highest nobility of the Moslems. The spoil and the ransoms were equally divided, but soon after a saying of the Koran commanded that in future the fifth part of all spoil should go to the prophet, for himself, his kinsmen, for the poor, orphans, and wanderers.

BATTLE OF OHOD (MARCH, 625 A.D.)

The battle of Bedr was the first step of Islam to dominion. Whilst the inhabitants of Medina and the Bedouin tribes of the neighbourhood drew from the prophet’s success a belief in his divine mission and gathered round him with enthusiasm, in Mecca there was great despair. Abu Lahab, Mohammed’s uncle and enemy, died seven days later of a disease resembling smallpox, full of affliction and anger at the success of his nephew; and Okba’s daughter Hind, the passionate wife of Abu Sufyan, cried day and night in ungoverned fury for revenge for her fallen kinsmen. Her lord actually went against Medina with two hundred Koreish; but their belief in their own cause was shaken, and when Mohammed marched against them they fled home in such haste that they left their stock of meal behind.

In the months after this “meal-campaign,” certain Jews in Medina, having made a mock of Mohammed in their verses, were put to death, and their co-religionists who had refused to go over to Islam, in particular the Beni Kainoka, the most skilful of the wealthy goldsmiths in the country, were driven into banishment in Syria. Abu Sufyan now marched a second time to the fight, on this occasion with a force of three thousand Koreish, at whose head stood three brave men, Akrama a son of Abu Jahl, Khalid, and Amru, afterwards the most distinguished heroes of the faithful. In the rearguard was the terrible Hind, with fifteen other women and certain poets who roused the spirit of vengeance in the army by laments over those slain at Bedr.

Mohammed wished to await the enemy in the city, but the young men, in their eagerness for war, demanded a pitched battle. The prophet yielded to their demand with inward misgivings. On the mount Ohod, whose solitary granite mass, bare of tree or bush, rises about a league to the north of Medina, he ranged his warriors, who did not exceed seven hundred, as he had disdained the help of the Jews and thus so deeply offended their patron, the Khazrayite Abdallah ben Obayyah, who apart from this was a secret envier and opponent of Mohammed, that he too had withdrawn with his army. Mohammed himself fought in the front rank; wearing a red fillet round his head and waving “the sword of God and his envoy,” he encouraged his men with axioms of the new faith. Here, too, victory seemed first to incline to the Moslems; strenuously as Hind and her women, “the daughters of the[122] stars, with cloudy hair and pearl-ornamented necks,” might encourage the combatants, promising loving embraces to the victors, and threatening the flying with shame and death, the ranks of the Meccans nevertheless gave way. Seven members of the family of Abd ad-Dar, who each in turn performed the hereditary office of standard-bearer, rolled in the dust. Then the bowmen, fearing to be too late for the spoil, left the secure position which Mohammed had assigned them behind the mountain, and thus gave Khalid an opportunity to fall with his cavalry on the Moslem rear. The battle now suddenly took a new turn; the superior numbers of the Koreish carried the day, Mohammed was wounded and fell, face downwards, into a trench. His standard-bearer Mussab, fell, and as he resembled Mohammed in appearance the rumour, “Mohammed is dead,” was quickly disseminated and proved as encouraging to the infidels as it was destructive to the Moslem. The defeated were already hurrying away towards Medina, when the poet Kaab, the son of Malik, recognised the prophet amongst the wounded, in his helmet and coat of mail.

Encouraged by the joyful tidings that Mohammed was still alive, ten or twelve of his trusty followers, including Abu Bekr and Omar, collected round him and carved themselves a way with the sword towards a rocky height, where they defended themselves bravely until the enemy, who, supposing the prophet to be dead, had paid no special heed to this little band, had begun their homeward march after insulting and mutilating the dead. Hind and her companions took the severed noses and ears of the enemy, strung them together like pearls, and wore them as necklaces and bracelets. The former even carried her rage so far that she tried to tear the heart out of the corpse of Hamza whom the Abyssinian slave Washi had slain in the midst of the fight, and to rend it in pieces.[31] The fall of the faithful Hamza touched Mohammed nearly; he frequently bewailed him, and the women of Medina raised a general lament over the fallen hero, whose name was henceforth mentioned in every death-song.

After the retreat of the Koreish, Mohammed returned with his men to Medina. Hard as the blow had been it could not shake his belief and confidence in a successful issue. Whilst he consoled the relatives of the slain with the thought of the happy life hereafter, he prohibited the customary mourning usages, the striking of the visage, the shaving of the hair, the rending of the garments, only permitting weeping because “tears give relief to the afflicted heart”; at the same time he took judicious measures for defence, in case the Koreish, hearing that the prophet was still alive, should come back. But they did not venture to expose their weakened army to fresh dangers; they contented themselves with the victory they had won, and hoped that in time they might get the better of religious innovations[123] if they preserved the sacred city with the Kaaba from all pollution, slew all Moslems who fell into their hands, and all the readers of the Koran who should proclaim Islam to the inhabitants of the hill country, and if they permitted no Mohammedan to enter the Kaaba. For years the followers of the prophet might not take part in the pilgrimage to Mecca, which in the sacred months the rest of the Arabs made for the sake of prayer and festival joys. But the time drew slowly near when in Mecca also the consideration of the old heathen gods was to sink in the dust, and even the Koreish would bow the knee before the name of him against whom they now nourished so deadly a hatred and whom they now persecuted in so bloody a fashion.

EXPEDITION AGAINST THE JEWS (626 A.D.)

Mohammed, from the very character of his religion, could not let the sword rust in its sheath so long as Islam had not attained supremacy. Consequently he continued to lead his followers on warlike expeditions against both Jew and heathen. The fact that he himself took part in all the fights was a great spur to the spirit and courage of his troops; more than once his life was in danger, but a higher power protected God’s envoy; the sword fell from a hostile leader who waved it above his head.

Since the battle of Ohod most of the attacks had been directed against the Jews, who showed themselves more and more hostile to the new religion. They found a protector in Abdallah ben Obayyah, the chief of the Khazraj, who, jealous of Mohammed’s growing power amongst his followers, toiled against the prophet. The Beni Nadir were driven from their strong castles, after their date palms had been cut down, in defiance of the usages of Arabian warfare; and they owed their lives solely to the powerful intercession of Abdallah, but were nevertheless compelled to quit the Arabian country like the Beni Kainoka before them. But the “hypocrites” continued to work against Mohammed’s power after a victorious campaign against the powerful tribe of the Beni Mustalik; Abdallah excited a quarrel between the “helpers” and the immigrant believers, which was only adjusted by the skill and prompt decision of the prophet. A saying of the Koran gave warning against hypocrites, but this time also Abdallah escaped punishment. Even the evil reports concerning Aisha’s virtue and marital fidelity, which he and others put into circulation about that time because she was left behind on a night march and entered the camp on the second day in the company of a man, were overlooked. Mohammed, in accordance with a revelation, declared the rumours to be slanders, punished the calumniators who, like the poet Hassan, maintained her guilt, and cherished Aisha with fresh tenderness; but Abdallah remained unpunished. Mohammed dreaded the revenge of the Khazraj.

SIEGE OF MEDINA, EXTERMINATION OF THE JEWS (627-628 A.D.)

Soon after the Koreish and other Arab tribes made alliance with the Jewish Beni Koraiza against the Moslems, and marched on Medina with a force of ten thousand men. Mohammed did not venture to meet the superior strength of the enemy in the open field for fear lest he should be overtaken by a fate such as he had suffered at Ohod. He had recourse to a method of defence hitherto unknown in Arabia. He drew a trench round the city. By means[124] of this defence he kept off the enemy by small skirmishes for a time, until by crafty negotiations he succeeded in sowing mistrust and division among the allies. The consequence was that the Arabs, who besides this had been disheartened by the wintry weather and cold showers of rain, retreated after an ineffectual blockade of five weeks; thus abandoning their Jewish allies to Mohammed’s vengeance. Besieged in their strong castles the Beni Koraiza had to surrender at discretion. Thereupon in spite of the intercession of their ancient allies the Aus, according to the harsh decision of the chief Zaid ben Muadh, who had been selected as arbitrator, all the men of the tribe, seven hundred in number, were executed on the market-place of Medina, the women and children were led into slavery, and their flocks, lands, and goods were divided among the victors.

“God drove the keepers of the Scriptures (the Jews) from their strong places and put fear in their hearts. One half of them has he slain, the other taken prisoners; he has given you their lands, their dwellings, their goods, for an inheritance. God is almighty.”

In these words a saying of the Koran announced this horrible event, the darkest deed of Mohammed’s life. Zaid died soon after the cruel sentence. Irritated by the continual perfidy and the hostile temper of the Jews, Mohammed had allowed himself to be drawn into a course in which the messenger of God gave way to the passionate Arab, in which not the temper of a prophet but the revenge of the passionate Arab and the cruelty of an oriental despot were manifested, in which “earthly mire choked the sacred flame of prophecy.” And in order finally to destroy the power of the Jews in Medina and the neighbourhood, Mohammed in the following year (628) marched with fourteen hundred believers against their chief fortress of Khaibar.

“We pray to thee, oh Almighty! against the goods of these places and all that they contain,” cried the prophet with a loud voice, when they entered the territory of their strong citadels, “and we implore thee to preserve us from the evil of these places and their inhabitants.”

Mohammed’s prayer was heard. By the bravery of the Moslems, especially of Ali, to whom before the battle the prophet had given his own sword—“Ali, the man who loves God and his envoy, the man who knows no fear and never yet turned his back on the enemy”—the castles were broken into, their treasures and goods carried off, the inhabitants, when they escaped the sword, made tributary so that they had to hold their rich estates and date plantations as hereditary tenants and pay the half of the produce to the new owners. The Mohammedans were roused to these warlike enterprises no less by the greed of spoil than by religious fanaticism. The Jewish chief Kinana was stretched on the rack to make him betray hidden treasures, and when he remained dumb he was beheaded. Mohammed himself not only appropriated the fifth share of the spoil, but also landed property, and he increased the number of his wives by two beautiful Jewish prisoners, Safiya and Zainab. The first was converted to Islam and became a tender wife to the prophet, who celebrated the bridal with her in his tent; on the other hand the second, whose nearest relatives had met their death in the battle, meditated a dark act of vengeance. She placed a poisoned meal before Mohammed. It is true that he ate little of it (in consequence of a miraculous warning, as the legend recounts), but still it was enough to undermine his health for the remainder of his life. Even in his dying hour he is reported to have said that he felt the poison of Khaibar[32] in his veins.

[125]

MOHAMMED’S PILGRIMAGE TO MECCA (629 A.D.)

Even before this war Mohammed had made a pilgrimage to Mecca with a considerable following, to try whether under shelter of the sacred month he could approach the Kaaba, acting under the just conviction that it would be of great advantage to the spread of his doctrines if he could associate himself with the ancient sanctuary of his people. This time indeed he failed to attain his object; the gates of Mecca remained closed to the Mohammedans; nevertheless by the Peace of Hodaibiya he won a ten years’ truce from the Koreish and the concession that he and his believers should perform their prayers in the Kaaba for three days annually. The zealous Omar was indignant at this agreement. “Art thou not the messenger of the Lord? Are the Meccans not infidels and we believers? Wherefore should we permit our faith to endure such an insult?”

But Mohammed preferred the lesser advantage to the uncertain issue of an armed conflict, convinced that greater successes would soon follow from small beginnings. He was not mistaken. In consequence of this treaty and shortly after the fall of Khaibar, he undertook (March, 629) a pilgrimage to Mecca, together with a party of his faithful followers, and great was the joy of the exiles when for the first time they again trod their native soil. Mohammed, mounted on his camel, accomplished the usual seven circuits of the Kaaba and the pacing to and fro between the hills Safa and Merwa and the rest followed him.

On this occasion Mohammed was united to Maimuna, a widow of fifty-one years. As his former marriages since the death of Khadija were decided by his sensuality and fondness for women and had at times been so scandalous that, as in the case of Zainab, the divorced wife of his adopted son Zaid, the indignation of the faithful at a hitherto unheard of and forbidden alliance had to be quieted by a new command in the Koran concerning relationship; so on the contrary this last marriage was like his first, an act of wisdom, policy, and practical consideration. By this marriage Maimuna’s kinsmen, Khalid and Amru, two distinguished warriors, were won over to the cause of Islam—a victory of greater importance than many a victorious battle.

The converts soon had an opportunity of increasing on a wider battle-field the warlike renown which they had acquired in petty quarrels. Mohammed had already turned his eyes to the frontiers of Arabia. Encouraged by the growing numbers and enthusiasm of his devotees, he believed that the time was not far off when Islam would acquire the dominion of the world. The Jews had been compelled to pay dearly for refusing to recognise him as their messiah; but, since they lived scattered and held in contempt amongst other nations he could well dispense with their homage if he succeeded in bringing the two most powerful religious associations of the time, namely the Christians and the fire-worshippers of Iran, to acknowledge his prophetic mission. With this object he addressed documents to various foreign rulers, calling on them to worship the one true God who had revealed himself through Mohammed. Amongst the Christians especially he might have expected a great welcome, since he not only owned Jesus to be a prophet but also recognised the latter’s mother as a spotless virgin. In one of the finest passages of the Koran it is related how Mary, after the angel of God had informed her that she should bear a “pure son,” had brought a child into the world under a palm tree; how this child had spoken even in the cradle and revealed himself as the “servant of God,” destined to[126] exercise every virtue of life and bring peace to men. According to the Moslems, the ordinances of Mohammed’s religion found a favourable reception amongst Christian princes. The king of Abyssinia, who had always shown himself favourable to the adherents of the new prophet, and the Christian general at Yemen are said to have gone over to Islam; the prefect of Egypt requested time for consideration, but sent costly gifts, among them two fair Coptic slaves for the voluptuous prophet. The messengers of Mohammed invited the princes and nations of the earth to join in the recognition of Islam, and one of them was even received by the emperor Heraclius in a gracious and friendly manner. On the other hand Chosroes II, then at the height of his power, tore the documents unread and at the same time the ruler of Bosrah slew an Arabian envoy who had endeavoured to win new converts for Islam. Against the former, Mohammed launched a prophecy of evil, against the latter sent an army under his former slave Zaid, whom on account of his faithfulness and submission he had taken in the place of a son.

At Muta in Syria the Arabian hosts under the sacred standard had their first encounter with the Græco-Roman legions. Zaid fell like a warrior in the foremost ranks; in his place the brave and handsome Jafar, Ali’s brother, seized Mohammed’s banner. Soon after he lost his right hand; then he waved the standard in his left, and when this too was severed from his body he held the sacred ensign in his bleeding arms till he received the deathstroke. Abdallah ben Rawaha, the poet, now took the standard from the dying hero, crying, “Forward! Either victory or paradise is ours!” And when he too sank under the enemy’s lances Khalid, the new convert of Mecca, grasped the banner and guided the battle to a finish. It was not a decisive victory; but Khalid had given such brilliant proofs of valour that in the nocturnal council of war held in the camp he was chosen commander-in-chief and henceforth bore the famous surname of “Sword of God.” Mournfully, though laden with glory and spoil, the warrior host returned to Medina with the cherished corpses. Mohammed extolled the lot of the fallen martyrs, but with Zaid’s young daughter he mourned in secret for the beloved dead. “These are friendship’s tears at the loss of a friend,” he said in excuse when someone coming in expressed his astonishment that he should weep for him who had secured paradise by his death.

SUBJECTION OF MECCA (630 A.D.)

All therefore that Mohammed could hope was that his teaching might obtain general recognition throughout Arabia, if he could once get the sacred city of Mecca into his power. When he first led his armed host of pilgrims[127] into its neighbourhood he had assured his companions that God had lent him the victory. Yet they had been compelled to withdraw, after concluding an inglorious peace without marching round the Kaaba. Nor was the chagrin of the believers relieved in the next year by their having to approach the sanctuary during three days as suppliants; the disgrace could only be wiped out by a brilliant victory. The Koreish themselves played into Mohammed’s hands. They violated the treaty of peace by taking part in a hostile attack on a tribe which had made a defensive alliance with Mohammed. Then when they heard that an expedition for reprisals was being prepared at Medina they were alarmed and sent Abu Sufyan, the proud chief of the race, to the angry prophet, to excuse what had passed and implore his forgiveness.

But Mohammed dismissed the suppliant without an answer and secretly pushed on the preparations for war with great zeal. Suddenly ten thousand watchfires on the neighbouring mountain betrayed the arrival of a powerful enemy to the astonished Meccans. Abu Sufyan hastened out to reconnoitre; Abbas brought him as a prisoner into the camp, where Mohammed protected him from Omar’s anger as soon as he had declared himself ready to honour the son of Abdallah as the messenger of God and to pass to the ranks of Islam. He noted with admiration the excellent discipline and bearing of the Mohammedan army, the multiplicity of weapons and banners, the “helpers” and “refugees” enveloped in iron, the enthusiastic veneration of the holy commander. “None can withstand this man!” Sufyan said to Mohammed’s uncle, Abbas, who was conducting him through the ranks, “by God, the kingdom of thy nephew is grown great!” And he hastened back to his people to persuade them to peaceful submission. In this he was successful. The most part shut themselves up in their houses, as Mohammed had commanded, so that the Moslem army was able to take possession of the city almost without resistance. Only Khalid had to carve a way for himself into the lower city through a host of unbelievers whom Akrama, the son of Abu Jahl, had collected under his banner.

When Mohammed saw the chiefs of the Koreish in the dust at his feet, his pride was satisfied and the nobler feelings of mildness and magnanimity reigned in his breast. The people declared themselves ready to abjure their gods, to honour Mohammed as God’s messenger and obey his behests, whereupon the victor, now throned in his native city as prince and prophet after eight years of banishment, proclaimed a general amnesty. Even of the twelve men and six women whom, after his entry into the city, Mohammed had condemned because in former years they had excited his anger by apostasy, treachery, or mocking ballads, the majority were pardoned. Amongst them was Akrama, the son of Abu Jahl, who had fought so bravely at Ohod and had offered resistance to Khalid’s entrance; his uncle the satirical poet Harith; Safwan, son of Omayyah and Hind, the passionate wife of Abu Sufyan; the poet Kaab; Abdallah, Mohammed’s scribe, who was accused of having defaced the sacred fly-leaves of the Koran and in order to escape punishment had fled as an apostate to Mecca; and many others. They all went over to Islam, and Akrama soon exhibited the same heroism in battle for the new faith which he had formerly displayed against Mohammed. For Abdallah, his kinsman Othman made intercession; Mohammed hesitated for some time over the pardon, in the hope that one of his adherents would kill the traitor; then unwillingly let him go.

When order had been restored in the city Mohammed presented himself at the temple. He went round the Kaaba seven times on his camel, each time[128] touching the sacred stone with his staff, and then broke in pieces the idols, 360 in number, which were placed round the sanctuary. After this he had the doors of the temple thrown open, cleansed the house of the Lord from all images, and commanded Bilal to proclaim to the multitude the call to prayer from the summit.

From the time of the prophet’s entry into Mecca the victory of Islam in Arabia was only a question of time. But no religious organisation is destroyed without some of its adherents contending for it with their hearts’ blood. The old Arabian gods too had their steadfast worshippers, who did not shrink from a martyr’s death for the religion of their youth. When Mohammed’s hosts under fanatical leaders penetrated to the surrounding tribes, the idols were thrown down and the ancient sanctuaries destroyed, and then the infuriated pagans put themselves on the defensive and many a sacrifice bled to the religious frenzy. On one such expedition into the district of Teyma, the zealous Khalid proceeded with such harshness and cruelty that Mohammed shuddered at it, and lifting his hands to heaven cried out, “I have no share in these deeds.” He then endeavoured to appease the sufferers through the medium of Ali’s mildness and magnanimity, offered expiation for those slain, and announced that Mecca and all the country should be as inviolable in the future as in the past.

THE VICTORY OF HONAIN AND AUTAS

The religious frenzy of the Moslems roused the heathen tribes of the mountain districts southeast of Mecca to take arms for the defence of their belief, their life, and their property against the new religious society. The Takifites, who had once driven away the ambassador of the Lord with stones, and the Hawazin tribes headed the alliance of the heathen faith. To animate their courage they took wives, children, and all their possessions into the field with them. At this news Mohammed started with his hosts to subdue his last obstinate enemy. But as they marched through the valley of Honain without taking the necessary precautions, they suddenly beheld the height occupied with bowmen. In a short time the ranks of the Moslems gave way; flight and disorder spread through them; the prophet’s cry, “I am Mohammed, the prophet of God, the proclaimer of the truth; stand fast ye faithful!” was unheeded; the Koreish who had followed the army were already giving vent to their malicious joy in mocking words. At this moment Abbas, Mohammed’s uncle, with his loud voice brought the flying and wavering to their senses. At the cry of need the bravest and most spirited again collected round the holy prince and won a complete victory.

[129]

In the valleys of Honain and Autas the power of the infidels was forever broken. Seventy were slain, amongst them the old hero Duraid, and the rest took to flight. Women, children, and spoil fell into the hands of the victors. But Mohammed’s endeavour to conquer the strong city of Taif was thwarted by the bravery of the inhabitants and the strength of the walls; it was in vain that, contrary to his own command, he caused the fruit trees to be felled and the vineyards to be dug up; in vain had the soldiers marched to the storming of the town; after a siege of twenty days’ duration he had to withdraw, having effected nothing. An enormous booty rewarded and consoled the Moslems, but at Mohammed’s instance the prisoners were restored to the newly converted tribes. Of his own fifth he presented the greater part to those among the Koreish who had shown themselves steadfast and faithful, and by this means he won over many influential men to his cause. Abu Sufyan and his two sons each received a hundred camels and forty ounces of silver. The Ansars, who murmured at the favour thus shown to their adversaries, were appeased by an affectionate appeal:

“Be not angry if I seek to win the hearts of a few waverers with perishable goods. Your faith and submission have another reward. The messenger of God intrusts you with his own life and fortune; in your midst he returns to Medina; and as ye were the companions of my exile and believed in me in my abasement, so shall ye be the companions of my royalty and shall share in paradise with me.” They cried out weeping, “We are content with our lot!”

The rest of the idolatrous tribes now no longer withstood a religion which Mohammed’s envoys offered them, the Koran in one hand and a sword in the other. Even the Takifites soon after bought peace and security by the sacrifice of their ancient gods, and opened the gates of their city of their own free will.

The Takifites sent ambassadors to inform the prophet that they would go over to Islam if he would exempt them from prayer and would leave them their idol Lat but for three years more.

“Three years of idolatry is too long; and what is the worship of God without prayers?” said Mohammed. The ambassadors then abated their demands and finally an agreement was arrived at by which the Takifites were to pay no taxes and were to keep their idol Lat for another year. Thereupon he began to dictate the record with the words:

“In the name of God the merciful and long-suffering! By this document an agreement is concluded between Mohammed, the messenger of God and the Takifites, that the latter shall neither pay taxes nor take part in the holy war.” But shame and the reproach of conscience arrested his tongue. “Nor throw themselves on their faces in praying,” added the ambassador; and as Mohammed persisted in his silence the Takifites repeated, as he turned to the scribe:

“Write this; it is agreed upon.”

The scribe looked at Mohammed, waiting for his orders. At this moment the fiery Omar, who had hitherto been a dumb witness of this scene, rose, and drawing his sword, cried out:

“Thou hast defiled the heart of the prophet, and may God fill yours with fire.”

“We speak not to thee, but to Mohammed,” answered the ambassador with composure.

“Good,” said the prophet at this; “I will not hear of such a treaty. Ye have your choice between an unconditional acceptance of Islam and war.”

[130]

“At least grant us,” said the thunderstruck Takifites, “the worship of Lat for six months longer!”

“No!”

“Then for but one month!”

“Not for an hour!”

On which the ambassadors went back to their city in the company of Mohammedan soldiers, who broke Lat to pieces amid the lamentations of the women.

THE LAST YEARS OF MOHAMMED’S LIFE (630-632 A.D.)

Mohammed returned to Medina like a victorious king; from all sides came ambassadors and believing followers, to offer their homage and worship, whilst far to the south his envoys on the seacoast won fresh devotees for Islam.

“We are the helpers of God and the soldiers of his messenger,” said the poet Thabit in a rhetorical contest; “we make war on all men until they believe; only he who believes in God and his messenger saves his goods and his blood; we are at feud with all infidels and our victory is always easy.”

The Arab writers linger affectionately over the different scenes of homage which the chiefs of the desert tribes, as well as the inhabitants of the cities, paid to the prophet, the prince of the faithful, in these first years of youthful enthusiasm. Yet adversities and misfortune troubled the end of his life. A hostile party under the leadership of Abdallah still subsisted in Medina. This was especially prominent when the prophet was arranging a fresh expedition against the Greeks in Syria in an oppressive heat, just when the Arabs were busied with the date harvest. Consequently many evaded the order and Abdallah turned back with his men soon after the start. A severe verse of the Koran rebuked the delay.

“Ye say, ‘go not out during the heat’; but God says by Mohammed, ‘the fire of hell is more scorching.’ Your laughter is but of short duration and ye shall one day weep long for your behaviour. Ye shall go forth no more with me and fight no more by my side.”

At Tabuk, between Medina and Damascus, the army came to a halt, that they might recover in that fertile neighbourhood from the toilsome, painful march. Here Mohammed received the submission of the chiefs of some of the Syrian border towns and the homage of a Christian prince. They purchased peace at the price of an annual tribute. Nevertheless Mohammed did not deem it advisable to advance further into the enemy’s country with his small following; he set out on the return march, and through many hardships and perils arrived at Medina after an absence of twenty days. For a time the disobedient were excluded from the circle of the believers; but when with penitence and contrition they sued for forgiveness they were received back into favour. Soon after this, death freed the prophet from his most dangerous adversary, Abdallah ben Obayyah. This event, as well as the homage of more and more Arab tribes, restored his spirits, which had been deeply affected by the death of his two daughters, Zainab and Umm Kolthum. The ninth Sura of the Koran, the symbol of the religion of the sword which he imparted to a host of pilgrims in a reading at the site of the holy temple at Mecca, may be taken as the outpouring of this exalted state of mind. In this he renounced peace with all unbelievers, heathen, Jews, and Christians, forbade them ever to set foot in the sanctuary, and declared perpetual war against them to be a sacred duty. In it he also reiterated the threats and curses against the hypocrites and loiterers who delayed to march to the holy[131] war. Ali’s delivery of this declaration before all the people had the desired effect. The ambassadors, who in the name of the princes and tribes declared the latter’s accession to Islam, were as numerous “as the dates which fall from the palm tree in the time of ripeness.” From the frontier of Syria to the southern end of the peninsula and to the mountains bordering on the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf, tribes of all tongues and religions hastened to find the key of paradise in the faith in the “One God who has no fellow.” When in the tenth year of the Hegira, Mohammed, with his nine wives, proceeded on his last pilgrimage to Mecca, which was to serve the Moslems for all future times as a pattern and example, 40,000 (or according to some accounts as many as 114,000) of the faithful accompanied him.

On this pilgrimage the suffering condition of the prophet first became manifest. With great effort he passed seven times round the Kaaba, and as he did so he prayed: “O Lord, prosper us in this life and the next, and preserve us from the pains of hell.” The unnatural agitations and paroxysms of his soul, the great physical exertions, the insidious poison of Khaibar, and finally his grief at the loss of his young son Ibrahim, whom, to his extreme joy, the Egyptian slave Maria had borne to him in the previous year and on whom he had set all his hopes—all these things undermined his health and hastened his end. The laments into which he broke out at sight of the child’s corpse already contained a foreboding of his own approaching end.

“I am grieved at thy loss,” he said, “mine eye weeps and my heart is sad, yet will I utter no lament which may anger the Lord; were I not convinced that I should follow thee, my grief would be inconsolable, but we are God’s and shall return to him.”

Three months after his return Mohammed was overtaken in the house of his spouse, Aisha, by an illness which lasted from eight to fourteen days. Often a fierce fever would rob him of consciousness, but often again he had hours of lucidity which he spent in converse with Aisha, his favourite daughter Fatima, the only one of his children who survived her father, and with the friends and relatives who visited him. Besides this, although already extremely ill, he would still go into the neighbouring mosque and speak words of admonition and farewell to the assembled people. As his weakness increased he allowed the prayers to be spoken by Abu Bekr, but was still always present. On the last day he seemed better, so that all save Aisha left him. But soon his illness returned with renewed severity. Before he lost consciousness he gave his slaves their freedom, caused the six or seven dinars[33] which he had in his house to be given to the poor, and then prayed, “God support me in the death struggle.” Aisha had sent for her father and his other followers, but before they arrived he expired in the arms of his favourite wife. His last words were: “To the glorious comrades in paradise.”

He died in the eleventh year of the Hegira in the three-and-sixtieth year of his life, “the prophet, poet, priest, and king of Arabia.” On the news of his departure a great wailing was raised in Aisha’s dwelling, and the people thronged round the door in wild excitement, which was still further increased by Omar’s assurances that the messenger of God was not dead, but would shortly return to his people. Finally the judicious words of Abu Bekr succeeded in calming the crowd:

“O ye people,” he said, “let him amongst you who served Mohammed know that Mohammed is dead; but let him who served God continue in his[132] service, for Mohammed’s God lives and never dies.” Then he read them a verse of the Koran: “Mohammed is only a messenger, many messengers are already gone before him; whether he died a natural death or was slain, shall ye turn on your heels? He who does this (forsakes his faith), can do no harm to God, but the grateful shall be rewarded.” Despair now passed into quiet grief; Omar himself was so moved that he fell to the earth and acknowledged that Mohammed was really dead.

Three days later Mohammed was lowered into the earth at the spot where he had died. His tomb at Medina was subsequently included within the bounds of the sanctuary by the enlargement of the mosque, which stood next to the house, and like the Kaaba of Mecca it has remained up to the present time to be a place of pilgrimage much resorted to by pious Moslems. Osama, the youthful son of that Zaid who had fallen at Muta, was absent on a new campaign against Syria at the moment when he received tidings of the prophet’s death. He at once led his soldiers back to Medina, and full of sadness set up his banner before the house.f

The personal traits of Mohammed are preserved to us in wonderfully minute details and illustrated by numberless anecdotes, many of which are of course apocryphal. We may quote a brief and vivid picture from the Sirat or Biography of Mohammed, written by Ibn Saad,g the secretary of the Arab historian Wakidi. The translation is from unpublished manuscript notes by Sir William Muir,e the modern biographer of Mohammed.a

“He was fair of complexion with a measure of redness; eyes intensely black; his hair not crisp but depending; beard bushy and thick; cheeks not fat; his neck shone like a vessel of silver; he had a line of hair from his breast to his navel like a branch, but besides this he had no hair on his belly or chest. His hands and feet were not hollow, but filled up. When he walked it was as though he walked from a higher to a lower place; and when he walked it was as though he pulled (or wrenched) his feet from the stones; when he turned he turned round entirely. The perspiration on his face was like pearls, and the smell thereof was pleasanter than musk of pure quality. He was neither long nor short; he was neither weakly nor vile; the like of him I never saw before or after.

“Mohammed had a large head, large eyes, large eyelashes; his colour bright and shining; large joints of his limbs; a long narrow line of hair from his chest to his belly. He was not very tall, but above the middle height. When he approached with his people he appeared to cover them (shutting them out of view). His hair was neither crisp nor frizzled; curly nor quite smooth and plain. It was like that of a curly-haired man combed out. His face was neither very fat nor very lean; it was round; he had large joints and a broad chest. His body was free from hair. Who ever saw him for the first time would be awe stricken at his appearance, but on close intimacy this would give way to love. His pupil was intensely black; his back large.”g

GIBBON’S ESTIMATE OF MOHAMMED AND MOHAMMEDANISM

At the conclusion of the life of Mohammed, it may perhaps be expected that I should balance his faults and virtues, that I should decide whether the title of enthusiast or impostor more properly belongs to that extraordinary man. Had I been intimately conversant with the son of Abdallah, the task would still be difficult, and the success uncertain: at the[133] distance of twelve centuries, I darkly contemplate his shade through a cloud of religious incense; and could I truly delineate the portrait of an hour, the fleeting resemblance would not equally apply to the solitary of Mount Hira, to the preacher of Mecca, and to the conqueror of Arabia. The author of a mighty revolution appears to have been endowed with a pious and contemplative disposition; so soon as marriage had raised him above the pressure of want, he avoided the paths of ambition and avarice; and till the age of forty, he lived with innocence, and would have died without a name. The unity of God is an idea most congenial to nature and reason; and a slight conversation with the Jews and Christians would teach him to despise and detest the idolatry of Mecca. It was the duty of a man and a citizen to impart the doctrine of salvation, to rescue his country from the dominion of sin and error. The energy of a mind incessantly bent on the same object, would convert a general obligation into a particular call; the warm suggestions of the understanding or the fancy would be felt as the inspirations of heaven; the labour of thought would expire in rapture and vision; and the inward sensation, the invisible monitor, would be described with the form and attributes of an angel of God.

From enthusiasm to imposture the step is perilous and slippery; the demon of Socrates affords a memorable instance how a wise man may deceive himself, how a good man may deceive others, how the conscience may slumber in a mixed middle state between self-illusion and voluntary fraud. Charity may believe that the original motives of Mohammed were those of pure and genuine benevolence; but a human missionary is incapable of cherishing the obstinate unbelievers who reject his claims, despise his arguments, and persecute his life; he might forgive his personal adversaries, he may lawfully hate the enemies of God; the stern passions of pride and revenge were kindled in the bosom of Mohammed, and he sighed, like the prophet of Nineveh, for the destruction of the rebels whom he had condemned. The injustice of Mecca and the choice of Medina transformed the citizen into a prince, the humble preacher into the leader of armies; but his sword was consecrated by the example of the saints; and the same God who afflicts a sinful world with pestilence and earthquakes might inspire for their conversion or chastisement the valour of his servants. In the exercise of political government he was compelled to abate the stern rigour of fanaticism, to comply, in some measure, with the prejudices and passions of his followers, and to employ even the vices of mankind as the instruments of their salvation. The use of fraud and perfidy, of cruelty and injustice, were often subservient to the propagation of the faith; and Mohammed commanded or approved the assassination of the Jews and idolaters who had escaped from the field of battle.

By the repetition of such acts, the character of Mohammed must have been gradually stained; and the influence of such pernicious habits would be poorly compensated by the practice of the personal and social virtues, which are necessary to maintain the reputation of a prophet among his sectaries and friends. Of his last years, ambition was the ruling passion; and a politician will suspect that he secretly smiled (the victorious impostor!) at the enthusiasm of his youth and the credulity of his proselytes. A philosopher would observe that their credulity and his success would tend more strongly to fortify the assurance of his divine mission, that his interest and religion were inseparably connected, and that his conscience would be soothed by the persuasion that he alone was absolved by the Deity from the obligation of positive and moral laws. If he retained any vestige of his native[134] innocence, the sins of Mohammed may be allowed as the evidence of his sincerity. In the support of truth, the arts of fraud and fiction may be deemed less criminal; and he would have started at the foulness of the means, had he not been satisfied of the importance and justice of the end. The decree of Mohammed that, in the sale of captives, the mothers should never be separated from their children, may suspend or moderate the censure of the historian.

The good sense of Mohammed despised the pomp of royalty; the apostle of God submitted to the menial offices of the family; he kindled the fire, swept the floor, milked the ewes, and mended with his own hands his shoes and his woollen garment. Disdaining the penance and merit of a hermit, he observed, without effort or vanity, the abstemious diet of an Arab and a soldier. On solemn occasions he feasted his companions with rustic and hospitable plenty; but in his domestic life many weeks would elapse without a fire being kindled on the hearth of the prophet. The interdiction of wine was confirmed by his example; his hunger was appeased with a sparing allowance of barley-bread; he delighted in the taste of milk and honey, but his ordinary food consisted of dates and water. Perfumes and women were the two sensual enjoyments which his nature required and his religion did not forbid; and Mohammed affirmed that the fervour of his devotion was increased by these innocent pleasures. The heat of the climate inflames the blood of the Arabs; and their libidinous complexion has been noticed by the writers of antiquity. Their incontinence was regulated by the civil and religious laws of the Koran; their incestuous alliances were blamed; the boundless license of polygamy was reduced to four legitimate wives or concubines; their rights both of bed and of dowry were equitably determined; the freedom of divorce was discouraged; adultery was condemned as a capital offence; and fornication, in either sex, was punished with a hundred stripes.

Such were the calm and rational precepts of the legislator; but in his private conduct Mohammed indulged the appetites of a man and abused the claims of a prophet. A special revelation dispensed him from the laws which he had imposed on his nation; the female sex, without reserve, was abandoned to his desires; and this singular prerogative excited the envy rather than the scandal, the veneration rather than the envy of the devout Mussulmans. If we remember the seven hundred wives and three hundred concubines of the wise Solomon, we shall applaud the modesty of the Arabian, who espoused no more than seventeen or fifteen wives; eleven are enumerated, who occupied at Medina their separate apartments round the house of the apostle, and enjoyed in their turns the favour of his conjugal society. What is singular enough, they were all widows, excepting only Aisha, the daughter of Abu Bekr. She was doubtless a virgin, since Mohammed consummated his nuptials (such is the premature ripeness of the climate) when she was only nine years of age. The youth, the beauty, the spirit of Aisha, gave her a superior ascendant: she was beloved and trusted by the prophet; and after his death the daughter of Abu Bekr was long revered as the mother of the faithful. Her behaviour had been ambiguous and indiscreet; in a nocturnal march she was accidentally left behind, and in the morning Aisha returned to the camp with a man.

The temper of Mohammed was inclined to jealousy; but a divine revelation assured him of her innocence; he chastised her accusers, and published a law of domestic peace, that no woman should be condemned unless four male witnesses had seen her in the act of adultery. In his adventures with[135] Zainab, the wife of Zaid, and with Maria, an Egyptian captive, the amorous prophet forgot the interest of his reputation. At the house of Zaid, his freedman and adopted son, he beheld in a loose undress the beauty of Zainab, and burst forth into an ejaculation of devotion and desire. The servile, or grateful, freedman understood the hint, and yielded without hesitation to the love of his benefactor. But as the filial relation had excited some doubt and scandal, the angel Gabriel descended from heaven to ratify the deed, to annul the adoption, and gently to reprove the apostle for distrusting the indulgence of his God. One of his wives, Hafsa, the daughter of Omar, surprised him on her own bed in the embraces of his Egyptian captive; she promised secrecy and forgiveness, he swore that he would renounce the possession of Maria. Both parties forgot their engagements, and Gabriel again descended with a chapter of the Koran, to absolve him from his oath and to exhort him freely to enjoy his captives and concubines, without listening to the clamours of his wives. In a solitary retreat of thirty days, he laboured, alone with Maria, to fulfil the commands of the angel. When his love and revenge were satiated, he summoned to his presence his eleven wives, reproached their disobedience and indiscretion, and threatened them with a sentence of divorce, both in this world and the next—a dreadful sentence, since those who had ascended the bed of the prophet were forever excluded from the hope of a second marriage.

Perhaps the incontinence of Mohammed may be palliated by the tradition of his natural or preternatural gifts; he united the manly virtue of thirty of the children of Adam, and the apostle might rival the thirteenth labour of the Grecian Hercules. A more serious and decent excuse may be drawn from his fidelity to Khadija. During the twenty-four years of their marriage her youthful husband abstained from the right of polygamy, and the pride or tenderness of the venerable matron was never insulted by the society of a rival. After her death he placed her in the rank of the four perfect women, with the sister of Moses, the mother of Jesus, and Fatima, the best beloved of his daughters. “Was she not old?” said Aisha, with the insolence of a blooming beauty, “has not God given you a better in her place?” “No, by God,” said Mohammed, with an effusion of honest gratitude, “there never[136] can be a better! she believed in me when men despised me; she relieved my wants when I was poor and persecuted by the world.”

In the largest indulgence of polygamy, the founder of a religion and empire might aspire to multiply the chances of a numerous posterity and a lineal succession. The hopes of Mohammed were fatally disappointed. The virgin Aisha, and his ten widows of mature age and approved fertility, were barren in his potent embraces. The four sons of Khadija died in their infancy. Maria, his Egyptian concubine, was endeared to him by the birth of Ibrahim. At the end of fifteen months the prophet wept over his grave; but he sustained with firmness the raillery of his enemies, and checked the adulation or credulity of the Moslems, by the assurance that an eclipse of the sun was not occasioned by the death of the infant. Khadija had likewise given him four daughters, who were married to the most faithful of his disciples; the three eldest died before their father; but Fatima, who possessed his confidence and love, became the wife of her cousin Ali, and the mother of an illustrious progeny.

From his earliest youth, Mohammed was addicted to religious contemplation; each year, during the month of Ramadhan, he withdrew from the world and from the arms of Khadija; in the cave of Hira, three miles from Mecca, he consulted the spirit of fraud or enthusiasm, whose abode is not in the heavens but in the mind of the prophet. The faith which, under the name of Islam, he preached to his family and nation, is compounded of an eternal truth and a necessary fiction—that there is only one God, and that Mohammed is the apostle of God.

The Christians of the seventh century had insensibly relapsed into a semblance of paganism; their public and private vows were addressed to the relics and images that disgraced the temples of the East; the throne of the Almighty was darkened by a cloud of martyrs, and saints, and angels, the objects of popular veneration; and the Collyridian heretics, who flourished in the fruitful soil of Arabia, invested the Virgin Mary with the name and honours of a goddess. The creed of Mohammed is free from suspicion or ambiguity; and the Koran is a glorious testimony to the unity of God. The prophet of Mecca rejected the worship of idols and men, of stars and planets, on the rational principle that whatever rises must set, that whatever is born must die, that whatever is corruptible must decay and perish. In the author of the universe, his rational enthusiasm confessed and adored an infinite and eternal being, without form or place, without issue or similitude, present to our most secret thoughts, existing by the necessity of his own nature, and deriving from himself all moral and intellectual perfection. These sublime truths, thus announced in the language of the prophet, are firmly held by his disciples, and defined with metaphysical precision by the interpreters of the Koran. The first principle of reason and revelation was confirmed by the voice of Mohammed; his proselytes, from India to Morocco, are distinguished by the name of Unitarians; and the danger of idolatry has been prevented by the interdiction of images. The doctrine of eternal decrees and absolute predestination is strictly embraced by the Mohammedans; and they struggle with the common difficulties, how to reconcile the prescience of God with the freedom and responsibility of man; how to explain the permission of evil under the reign of infinite power and infinite goodness.

The liberality of Mohammed allowed to his predecessors the same credit which he claimed for himself; and the chain of inspiration was prolonged from the fall of Adam to the promulgation of the Koran. During that[137] period, some rays of prophetic light had been imparted to 124,000 of the elect, discriminated by their respective measure of virtue and grace; 313 apostles were sent with a special commission to recall their country from idolatry and vice; 104 volumes had been dictated by the holy spirit; and six legislators of transcendent brightness have announced to mankind the six successive revelations of various rites, but of one immutable religion. The authority and station of Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Christ, and Mohammed rise in just gradation above each other; but whosoever hates or rejects any one of the prophets is numbered with the infidels. The writings of the patriarchs were extant only in the apocryphal copies of the Greeks and Syrians; the conduct of Adam had not entitled him to the gratitude or respect of his children; the seven precepts of Noah were observed by an inferior and imperfect class of the proselytes of the synagogue, and the memory of Abraham was obscurely revered by the Sabians in his native land of Chaldea; of the myriads of prophets, Moses and Christ alone lived and reigned; and the remnant of the inspired writings was comprised in the books of the Old and the New Testament. The miraculous story of Moses is consecrated and embellished in the Koran; and the captive Jews enjoy the secret revenge of imposing their belief on the nations whose recent creeds they deride. For the author of Christianity, the Mohammedans are taught by the prophet to entertain a high and mysterious reverence. “Verily, Christ Jesus, the son of Mary, is the Apostle of God, and His word, which He conveyed unto Mary, and a spirit proceeding from him are honourable in this world, and in the world to come; and He is one of those who approach near to the presence of God.” The piety of Moses and of Christ rejoiced in the assurance of a future prophet, more illustrious than themselves; the evangelic promise of the Paraclete, or Holy Ghost, was prefigured in the name, and accomplished in the person, of Mohammed, the greatest and the last of the apostles of God.

The inspiration of the Hebrew prophets, of the apostles and evangelists of Christ, might not be incompatible with the exercise of their reason and memory; and the diversity of their genius is strongly marked in the style and composition of the books of the Old and New Testament. But Mohammed was content with a character, more humble yet more sublime, of a simple editor; the substance of the Koran, according to himself or his disciples, is uncreated and eternal; subsisting in the essence of the Deity, and inscribed with a pen of light on the table of his everlasting decrees. A paper copy, in a volume of silk and gems, was brought down to the lowest heaven by the angel Gabriel, who, under the Jewish economy, had indeed been despatched on the most important errands; and this trusty messenger successively revealed the chapters and verses to the Arabian prophet. Instead of a perpetual and perfect measure of the divine will, the fragments of the Koran were produced at the discretion of Mohammed; each revelation is suited to the emergencies of his policy or passion; and all contradiction is removed by the saving maxim that any text of Scripture is abrogated or modified by any subsequent passage. The word of God, and of the apostle, was diligently recorded by his disciples on palm leaves and the shoulder bones of mutton; and the pages, without order or connection, were cast into a domestic chest in the custody of one of his wives.

Two years after the death of Mohammed the sacred volume was collected and published by his friend and successor Abu Bekr. The work was revised by the caliph Othman, in the thirtieth year of the Hegira; and the various editions of the Koran assert the same miraculous privilege of a uniform and[138] incorruptible text. In the spirit of enthusiasm or vanity, the prophet rests the truth of his mission on the merit of his book, audaciously challenges both men and angels to imitate the beauties of a single page, and presumes to assert that God alone could dictate this incomparable performance. This argument is most powerfully addressed to a devout Arabian, whose mind is attuned to faith and rapture, whose ear is delighted by the music of sounds, and whose ignorance is incapable of comparing the productions of human genius. The harmony and copiousness of style will not reach, in a version, the European infidel; he will peruse with impatience the endless incoherent rhapsody of fable, and precept, and declamation, which seldom excites a sentiment or an idea, which sometimes crawls in the dust, and is sometimes lost in the clouds. The divine attributes exalt the fancy of the Arabian missionary; but his loftiest strains must yield to the sublime simplicity of the book of Job, composed in a remote age, in the same country, and in the same language. If the composition of the Koran exceed the faculties of a man, to what superior intelligence should we ascribe the Iliad of Homer or the Philippics of Demosthenes?

In all religions, the life of the founder supplies the silence of his written revelation; the sayings of Mohammed were so many lessons of truth, his actions so many examples of virtue; and the public and private memorials were preserved by his wives and companions. At the end of two hundred years the sunna, or oral law, was fixed and consecrated by the labours of Al-Buchari, who discriminated 7,275 traditions, from a mass of 300,000 reports of a more doubtful or spurious character. Each day the pious author prayed in the temple of Mecca, and performed his ablutions with the water of Zemzem; the pages were successively deposited on the pulpit and the sepulchre of the apostle; and the work has been approved by the four orthodox sects of the Sunnites.

The mission of the ancient prophets, of Moses, and of Jesus, had been confirmed by many splendid prodigies; and Mohammed was repeatedly urged by the inhabitants of Mecca and Medina to produce a similar evidence of his divine legation; to call down from heaven the angel or the volume of his revelation, to create a garden in the desert, or to kindle a conflagration in the unbelieving city. As often as he is pressed by the demands of the Koreish, he involves himself in the obscure boast of vision and prophecy, appeals to the internal proofs of his doctrine, and shields himself behind the providence of God, who refuses those signs and wonders that would depreciate the merit of faith and aggravate the guilt of infidelity. But the modest or angry tone of his apologies betrays his weakness and vexation; and these passages of scandal establish, beyond suspicion, the integrity of the Koran.

The votaries of Mohammed are more assured than himself of his miraculous gifts, and their confidence and credulity increase as they are further removed from the time and place of his spiritual exploits. They believe or affirm that trees went forth to meet him; that he was saluted by stones; that water gushed from his fingers; that he fed the hungry, cured the sick, and raised the dead; that a beam groaned to him; that a camel complained to him; that a shoulder of mutton informed him of its being poisoned; and that both animate and inanimate nature were equally subject to the apostle of God. His dream of a nocturnal journey is seriously described as a real and corporeal transaction. A mysterious animal, the borak, conveyed him from the temple of Mecca to that of Jerusalem; with his companion Gabriel he successively ascended the seven heavens, and received and repaid the salutations of the patriarchs, the prophets, and the angels, in their respective[139] mansions. Beyond the seventh heaven, Mohammed alone was permitted to proceed; he passed the veil of unity, approached within two bow-shots of the throne, and felt a cold that pierced him to the heart when his shoulder was touched by the hand of God. After this familiar, though important conversation, he again descended to Jerusalem, remounted the borak, returned to Mecca, and performed in the tenth part of a night the journey of many thousand years. According to another legend, the apostle confounded in a national assembly the malicious challenge of the Koreish. His resistless word split asunder the orb of the moon; the obedient planet stooped from her station in the sky, accomplished the seven revolutions round the Kaaba, saluted Mohammed in the Arabian tongue, and suddenly contracting her dimensions entered at the collar, and issued forth through the sleeve of his shirt. The vulgar are amused with these marvellous tales; but the gravest of the Mussulman doctors imitate the modesty of their master, and indulge a latitude of faith or interpretation. They might speciously allege that, in preaching the religion, it was needless to violate the harmony of nature; that a creed unclouded with mystery may be excused from miracles; and that the sword of Mohammed was not less potent than the rod of Moses.

The polytheist is oppressed and distracted by the variety of superstition; a thousand rites of Egyptian origin were interwoven with the essence of the Mosaic law, and the spirit of the Gospel had evaporated in the pageantry of the church. The prophet of Mecca was tempted, by prejudice, or policy, or patriotism, to sanctify the rites of the Arabians and the custom of visiting the holy stone of the Kaaba. But the precepts of Mohammed himself inculcate a more simple and rational piety; prayer, fasting, and alms are the religious duties of a Mussulman; and he is encouraged to hope that prayer will carry him half-way to God, fasting will bring him to the door of his palace, and alms will gain him admittance.

(1) According to the tradition of the nocturnal journey, the apostle, in his personal conference with the Deity, was commanded to impose on his disciples the daily obligation of fifty prayers. By the advice of Moses, he applied for an alleviation of this intolerable burden; the number was gradually reduced to five; without any dispensation of business or pleasure, or[140] time or place, the devotion of the faithful is repeated at daybreak, at noon, in the afternoon, in the evening, and at the first watch of the night; and in the present decay of religious fervour our travellers are edified by the profound humility and attention of the Turks and Persians. Cleanliness is the key of prayer; the frequent lustration of the hands, the face, and the body, which was practised of old by the Arabs, is solemnly enjoined by the Koran; and a permission is formally granted to supply with sand the scarcity of water. The words and attitudes of supplication, as it is performed either sitting, or standing, or prostrate on the ground, are prescribed by custom or authority, but the prayer is poured forth in short and fervent ejaculations; the measure of zeal is not exhausted by a tedious liturgy; and each Mussulman, for his own person, is invested with the character of a priest. Among the theists, who reject the use of images, it has been found necessary to restrain the wanderings of the fancy by directing the eye and the thought towards a kibla, or visible point of the horizon. The prophet was at first inclined to gratify the Jews by the choice of Jerusalem, but he soon returned to a more natural partiality; and five times every day the eyes of the nations at Astrakhan, at Fez, at Delhi are devoutly turned to the holy temple of Mecca. Yet every spot for the service of God is equally pure; the Mohammedans indifferently pray in their chamber or in the street. As a distinction from the Jews and Christians, the Friday in each week is set apart for the useful institution of public worship; the people are assembled in the mosque; and the imam, some respectable elder, ascends the pulpit, to begin the prayer and pronounce the sermon. But the Mohammedan religion is destitute of priesthood or sacrifice; and the independent spirit of fanaticism looks down with contempt on the ministers and the slaves of superstition.

(2) The voluntary penance of the ascetics, the torment and glory of their lives, was odious to a prophet who censured in his companions a rash vow of abstaining from flesh, and women, and sleep; and firmly declared that he would suffer no monks in his religion. Yet he instituted, in each year, a fast of thirty days; and strenuously recommended the observance, as a discipline which purifies the soul and subdues the body, as a salutary exercise of obedience to the will of God and his apostle. During the month of Ramadhan, from the rising to the setting of the sun, the Mussulman abstains from eating, and drinking, and women, and baths, and perfumes; from all nourishment that can restore his strength, from all pleasure that can gratify his senses. In the revolution of the lunar year, the Ramadhan coincides by turns with the winter cold and the summer heat; and the patient martyr, without assuaging his thirst with a drop of water, must expect the close of a tedious and sultry day. The interdiction of wine, peculiar to some orders of priests or hermits, is converted by Mohammed alone into a positive and general law; and a considerable portion of the globe has abjured, at his command, the use of that salutary though dangerous liquor. These painful restraints are, doubtless, infringed by the libertine and eluded by the hypocrite; but the legislator by whom they are enacted cannot surely be accused of alluring his proselytes by the indulgence of their sensual appetites.

(3) The charity of the Mohammedans descends to the animal creation; and the Koran repeatedly inculcates, not as a merit but as a strict and indispensable duty, the relief of the indigent and unfortunate. Mohammed, perhaps, is the only lawgiver who has defined the precise measure of charity; the standard may vary with the degree and nature of property, as it consists either in money, in corn or cattle, in fruits or merchandise; but the Mussulman[141] does not accomplish the law unless he bestows a tenth of his revenue; and if his conscience accuses him of fraud or extortion, the tenth, under the idea of restitution, is enlarged to a fifth. Benevolence is the foundation of justice, since we are forbidden to injure those whom we are bound to assist. A prophet may reveal the secrets of heaven and of futurity; but in his moral precepts he can only repeat the lessons of our own hearts.

The two articles of belief and the four practical duties of Islam are guarded by rewards and punishments; and the faith of the Mussulman is devoutly fixed on the event of the judgment and the last day. The prophet has not presumed to determine the moment of that awful catastrophe, though he darkly announces the signs, both in heaven and earth, which will precede the universal dissolution, when life shall be destroyed and the order of creation shall be confounded in the primitive chaos. At the blast of the trumpet, new worlds will start into being; angels, genii, and men will arise from the dead, and the human soul will again be united to the body. The doctrine of the resurrection was first entertained by the Egyptians; and their mummies were embalmed, their pyramids were constructed, to preserve the ancient mansion of the soul during a period of three thousand years. But the attempt is partial and unavailing; and it is with a more philosophic spirit that Mohammed relies on the omnipotence of the Creator, whose word can reanimate the breathless clay, and collect the innumerable atoms that no longer retain their form or substance. The intermediate state of the soul it is hard to decide; and those who most firmly believe in her immaterial nature, are at a loss to understand how she can think or act without the agency of the organs of sense.

The reunion of the soul and body will be followed by the final judgment of mankind; and in his copy of the magian picture the prophet has too faithfully represented the forms of proceeding, and even the slow and successive operations of an earthly tribunal. By his intolerant adversaries he is upbraided for extending, even to themselves, the hope of salvation; for asserting the blackest heresy—that every man who believes in God and accomplishes good works may expect in the last day a favourable sentence. Such rational indifference is ill adapted to the character of a fanatic; nor is it probable that a messenger from heaven should depreciate the value and necessity of his own revelation. In the idiom of the Koran, the belief of God is inseparable from that of Mohammed; the good works are those which he has enjoined; and the two qualifications imply the profession of Islam, to which all nations and all sects are equally invited. Their spiritual blindness, though excused by ignorance and crowned with virtue, will be scourged with everlasting torments; and the tears which Mohammed shed over the tomb of his mother, for whom he was forbidden to pray, display a striking contrast of humanity and enthusiasm.

The doom of the infidels is common; the measure of their guilt and punishment is determined by the degree of evidence which they have rejected, by the magnitude of the errors which they have entertained; the eternal mansions of the Christians, the Jews, the Sabians, the Magians, and the idolaters are sunk below each other in the abyss; and the lowest hell is reserved for the faithless hypocrites who have assumed the mask of religion. After the greater part of mankind has been condemned for their opinions, the true believers only will be judged by their actions. The good and evil of each Mussulman will be accurately weighed in a real or allegorical balance, and a singular mode of compensation will be allowed for the payment of injuries; the aggressor will refund an equivalent of his own good actions[142] for the benefit of the person whom he has wronged; and if he should be destitute of any moral property, the weight of his sins will be loaded with an adequate share of the demerits of the sufferer. According as the shares of guilt or virtue shall preponderate, the sentence will be pronounced, and all, without distinction, will pass over the sharp and perilous bridge of the abyss; but the innocent, treading in the footsteps of Mohammed, will gloriously enter the gates of paradise, while the guilty will fall into the first and mildest of the seven hells. The term of expiation will vary from nine hundred to seven thousand years; but the prophet has judiciously promised that all his disciples, whatever may be their sins, shall be saved, by their own faith and his intercession, from eternal damnation.

It is not surprising that superstition should act most powerfully on the fears of her votaries, since the human fancy can paint with more energy the misery than the bliss of a future life. With the two simple elements of darkness and fire we create a sensation of pain, which may be aggravated to an infinite degree by the idea of endless duration. But the same idea operates with an opposite effect on the continuity of pleasure; and too much of our present enjoyment is obtained from the relief, or the comparison of evil. It is natural enough that an Arabian prophet should dwell with rapture on the groves, the fountains, and the rivers of paradise; but instead of inspiring the blessed inhabitants with a liberal taste for harmony and science, conversation and friendship, he idly celebrates the pearls and diamonds, the robes of silk, palaces of marble, dishes of gold, rich wines, artificial dainties, numerous attendants, and the whole train of sensual and costly luxury which becomes insipid to the owner, even in the short period of this mortal life. Seventy-two houris, or black-eyed girls, of resplendent beauty, blooming youth, virgin purity, and exquisite sensibility will be created for the use of the meanest believer; a moment of pleasure will be prolonged to a thousand years, and his faculties will be increased a hundredfold, to render him worthy of his felicity.

Notwithstanding a vulgar prejudice, the gates of heaven will be open to both sexes; but Mohammed has not specified the male companions of the female elect, lest he should either alarm the jealousy of their former husbands, or disturb their felicity by the suspicion of an everlasting marriage. This image of a carnal paradise has provoked the indignation, perhaps the envy, of the monks; they declaim against the impure religion of Mohammed; and his modest apologists are driven to the poor excuse of figures and allegories. But the sounder and more consistent party adheres, without shame, to the literal interpretation of the Koran; useless would be the resurrection of the body, unless it were restored to the possession and exercise of its worthiest faculties; and the union of sensual and intellectual enjoyment is requisite to complete the happiness of the double animal, the perfect man. Yet the joys of the Mohammedan paradise will not be confined to the indulgence of luxury and appetite; and the prophet has expressly declared that all meaner happiness will be forgotten and despised by the saints and martyrs, who shall be admitted to the beatitude of the divine vision.

The talents of Mohammed are entitled to our applause; but his success has perhaps too strongly attracted our admiration. Are we surprised that a multitude of proselytes should embrace the doctrine and the passions of an eloquent fanatic? In the heresies of the church the same seduction has been tried and repeated from the time of the apostles to that of the reformers. Does it seem incredible that a private citizen should grasp the sword[143] and the sceptre, subdue his native country, and erect a monarchy by his victorious arms? In the moving picture of the dynasties of the East, a hundred fortunate usurpers have arisen from a baser origin, surmounted more formidable obstacles, and filled a larger scope of empire and conquest.

Mohammed was alike instructed to preach and to fight, and the union of these opposite qualities, while it enhanced his merit, contributed to his success; the operation of force and persuasion, of enthusiasm and fear, continually acted on each other, till every barrier yielded to their irresistible power. His voice invited the Arabs to freedom and victory, to arms and rapine, to the indulgence of their darling passions in this world and the other; the restraints which he imposed were requisite to establish the credit of the prophet and to exercise the obedience of the people; and the only objection to his success was his rational creed of the unity and perfections of God.

It is not the propagation but the permanency of his religion that deserves our wonder; the same pure and perfect impression which he engraved at Mecca and Medina is preserved after the revolutions of twelve centuries by the Indian, the African, and the Turkish proselytes of the Koran. If the Christian apostles, St. Peter or St. Paul, could return to the Vatican, they might possibly inquire the name of the deity who is worshipped with such mysterious rites in that magnificent temple; at Oxford or Geneva, they would experience less surprise, but it might still be incumbent on them to peruse the catechism of the church and to study the orthodox commentators on their own writings and the words of their master. But the Turkish dome of St. Sophia, with an increase of splendour and size, represents the humble tabernacle erected at Medina by the hands of Mohammed. The Mohammedans have uniformly withstood the temptation of reducing the object of their faith and devotion to a level with the senses and imagination of man. “I believe in one God, and Mohammed the apostle of God,” is the simple and invariable profession of Islam. The intellectual image of the Deity has never been degraded by any visible idol; the honours of the prophet have never transgressed the measure of human virtue; and his living precepts have restrained the gratitude of his disciples within the bounds of reason and religion. The votaries of Ali have indeed consecrated the memory of their hero, his wife, and his children, and some of the Persian doctors pretend that the divine essence was incarnate in the person of the imams; but their superstition is universally condemned by the Sunnites, and their impiety has afforded a seasonable warning against the worship of saints and martyrs.

The metaphysical questions on the attributes of God and the liberty of man have been agitated in the schools of the Mohammedans, as well as in those of the Christians; but among the former they have never engaged the passions of the people or disturbed the tranquillity of the state. The cause of this important difference may be found in the separation or union of the regal and sacerdotal characters. It was the interest of the caliphs, the successors of the prophet and commanders of the faithful, to repress and discourage all religious innovations; the order, the discipline, the temporal and spiritual ambition of the clergy are unknown to the Moslems, and the sages of the law are the guides of their conscience and the oracles of their faith. From the Atlantic to the Ganges the Koran is acknowledged as the fundamental code, not only of theology but of civil and criminal jurisprudence; and the laws which regulate the actions and the property of mankind are guarded by the infallible and immutable sanction of the will of God. This religious servitude is attended with some practical disadvantage; the illiterate legislator had been often misled by his own prejudices and those of his[144] country; and the institutions of the Arabian desert may be ill adapted to the wealth and numbers of Ispahan and Constantinople. On these occasions, the kadi respectfully places on his head the holy volume, and substitutes a dexterous interpretation more apposite to the principles of equity and the manners and policy of the times.

His beneficial or pernicious influence on the public happiness is the last consideration in the character of Mohammed. The most bitter or most bigoted of his Christian or Jewish foes will surely allow that he assumed a false commission to inculcate a salutary doctrine, less perfect only than their own. He piously supposed, as the basis of his religion, the truth and sanctity of their prior revelations, the virtues and miracles of their founders. The idols of Arabia were broken before the throne of God; the blood of human victims was expiated by prayer, and fasting, and alms, the laudable or innocent arts of devotion; and his rewards and punishments of a future life were painted by the images most congenial to an ignorant and carnal generation. Mohammed was, perhaps, incapable of dictating a moral and political system for the use of his countrymen; but he breathed among the faithful a spirit of charity and friendship, recommended the practice of the social virtues, and checked, by his laws and precepts, the thirst of revenge and the oppression of widow and orphans. The hostile tribes were united in faith and obedience, and the valour which had been idly spent in domestic quarrels was vigorously directed against a foreign enemy. Had the impulse been less powerful, Arabia, free at home and formidable abroad, might have flourished under a succession of her native monarchs. Her sovereignty was lost by the extent and rapidity of conquest. The colonies of the nation were scattered over the East and West, and their blood was mingled with the blood of their converts and captives. After the reign of three caliphs, the throne was transported from Medina to the valley of Damascus and the banks of the Tigris; the holy cities were violated by impious war; Arabia was ruled by the rod of a subject, perhaps of a stranger; and the Bedouins of the desert, awakening from their dream of dominion, resumed their old and solitary independence.d

FOOTNOTES

---

[145]

CHAPTER V. THE SPREAD OF ISLAM

ABU BEKR, FIRST CALIPH AFTER MOHAMMED

Mohammed, the founder of the Saracenic empire, died at Medina, on Monday the 8th of June, 632 A.D., being the twenty-second year of the reign of Heraclius the Grecian emperor. After he was dead, the next care was to appoint a successor; and it was indeed very necessary that one should be provided as soon as possible. Their government and religion being both in their infancy, and a great many of Mohammed’s followers no great bigots, not having yet forgotten their ancient rights and customs, but rather forced to leave them for fear, than upon any conviction, affairs were in such a posture as could by no means admit of an interregnum. Wherefore the same day that he expired the Mussulmans met together in order to elect a caliph or successor. In that assembly there had like to have been such a fray, as might, in all probability, have greatly endangered, if not utterly ruined, this new religion and polity, had not Omar and Abu Bekr timely interposed. For the prophet having left no positive directions concerning a successor, or at least none that were known to any but his wives, who in all probability might conceal them out of their partiality in favour of Omar, a hot dispute arose between the inhabitants of Mecca and Medina.

At last Omar being wearied out, and seeing no likelihood of deciding the matter, was willing to give over, and bade Abu Bekr give him his hand, which he had no sooner done than Omar promised him fealty. The rest followed his example, and by the consent of both parties Abu Bekr was at last saluted caliph, and being acknowledged the rightful successor of their prophet Mohammed, became the absolute judge of all causes both sacred and civil. Thus, after much ado, that difference was at last composed, which had like to have proved fatal to Mohammedanism. And certainly it was a very great oversight in Mohammed, in all the time of his sickness, never to have named a successor positively and publicly. If he had done so, without question, his authority would have determined the business, and prevented that disturbance which had like to have endangered the religion he had planted with so much difficulty and hazard.

[146]

Now though the government was actually settled upon Abu Bekr, all parties were not equally satisfied, for a great many were of opinion that the right of succession belonged to Ali, the son of Abu Talib. Upon which account the Mohammedans have ever since been divided; some maintaining that Abu Bekr, and Omar, and Othman, that came after him, were the rightful and lawful successors of the prophet; and others disclaiming them altogether as usurpers, and constantly asserting the right of Ali. Of the former opinion are the Turks at this day; of the latter, the Persians. And such consequently is the difference between those two nations, that notwithstanding their agreement in all other points of their superstition, yet upon this account they treat one another as most damnable heretics. Ali had this to recommend him, that he was Mohammed’s cousin-german, and was the first that embraced his religion, except his wife Khadija, and his slave Zaid, and was besides Mohammed’s son-in-law, having married his daughter Fatima. Abu Bekr was Mohammed’s father-in-law, by whom he was so much respected that he received from him the surname of As-Siddik (which signifies in Arabic, “a great speaker of truth”), because he resolutely asserted the truth of that story which Mohammed told of his going one night to heaven.

Ali was not present at this election, and when he heard the news was not well pleased, having hoped that the choice would have fallen on himself. Abu Bekr sent Omar to Fatima’s house, where Ali and some of his friends were, with orders to compel them by force to come in and do fealty to him, if they would not be persuaded by fair means. Omar was just going to fire the house, when Fatima asked him what he meant. He told her that he would certainly burn the house down unless they would be content to do as the rest of the people had done. Upon which Ali came forth and went to Abu Bekr, and acknowledged his sovereignty.

Abu Bekr being thus settled in his new government, had work enough to maintain it; for the Mohammedan religion had not as yet taken such deep root in the hearts of men but that they would very willingly have shaken it off had they known how. Accordingly the Arabians, a people of a restless and turbulent disposition, did not neglect the opportunity of rebelling, which they thought was fairly offered them by the death of Mohammed. Immediately taking up arms, they refused to pay the usual tribute, tithes, and alms, and no longer observed the rites and customs which had been imposed upon them by Mohammed.

Abu Bekr sent Khalid ben Walid, with an army of forty-five hundred men, who, having routed them in a set battle, brought off a great deal of plunder, and made slaves of their children.

Khalid was the best general of his age, and it was chiefly to his courage and conduct that the Saracens owed the subduing of the rebels, the conquest of Syria, and the establishment of their religion and polity. His love and tenderness towards his own soldiers were only equalled by his hatred and aversion to the enemies of the Mohammedan religion. Of both he has given the most signal instances. To those who, having embraced the Mohammedan religion, afterwards apostatised, he was an irreconcilable and implacable foe; nor would he spare them, though they evinced the greatest signs of unfeigned repentance. For his great valour, the Arabs called him “the Sword of God”; which surname of his was known also to his enemies, and is mentioned as well by Greek as Arab authors.

About this time several persons, perceiving the success and prosperity of Mohammed and his followers, set up also for prophets too, in hope of meeting the like good fortune, and making themselves eminent in the world. Such[147] were Aswad al-Ansi and Tulaihah ben Khuwailid, with several others, whose attempts however quickly came to nothing. But the most considerable of these impostors was Musailima, who had been the rival of Mohammed even in his life-time, and trumped up a book in imitation of the Koran. He had now gathered together a very considerable body of men in Yemen, a province of Arabia, and began to be so formidable that the Mussulmans began to feel alarmed at his growing greatness.

It is strange and surprising to consider from how mean and contemptible beginnings the greatest things have been raised in a short time. Of this the Saracenic empire is a remarkable instance. For if we look back but eleven years, we shall see how Mohammed, unable to support his cause, routed and oppressed by the powerful party of the Koreishites at Mecca, fled with a few desponding followers to Medina to preserve his life no less than his imposture. And now, within so short a period, we find the undertakings of his successor prospering beyond expectation, and making him the terror of all his neighbours; and the Saracens in a capacity not only to keep possession of their own peninsula of Arabia, but to extend their arms over larger territories than ever were subject to the Romans themselves. Whilst they were thus employed in Arabia, they were little regarded by the Grecian emperor, who awoke too late to a sense of their formidable power, when he saw them pouring in upon them like a torrent, and driving all before them. The proud Persian, too, who so very lately had been domineering in Syria, and sacked Jerusalem and Damascus, must be forced not only to part with his own dominions, but also to submit his neck to the Saracenic yoke. It may be reasonably supposed that, had the Grecian empire been in the flourishing condition it formerly was, the Saracens might have been checked at least, if not entirely extinguished. But besides that the western part of the empire had been rent from it by the barbarous Goths, the eastern also had received so many shocks from the Huns on the one side, and the Persians on the other, that it was not in a situation to stem the fury of this powerful invasion. Heraclius, indeed, was a prince of admirable courage and conduct, and did all that was possible to restore the discipline of the army, and was very successful against the Persians, not only driving them out of his own dominions, but even wresting from them a part of their own territories. But the empire seemed to labour under an incurable disease, and to be wounded in its very vitals. No time could have been more fatally adverse to its maintenance, nor more favourable to the enterprises of the Saracens.

Abu Bekr had now set affairs at home in pretty good order. The apostates who upon the death of Mohammed had revolted to the idolatry in which they were born and bred, were again reduced to subjection. The forces of Musailima, the false prophet, being dispersed and himself killed, there was now little or nothing left to be done in Arabia. For though there were a great many Christian Arabs, as particularly the tribe of Ghassan, yet they were generally employed in the service of the Greek emperor. The next business, therefore, that the caliph had to do, pursuant to the tenor of his religion, was to make war upon his neighbours, for the propagation of the truth (for so they call their superstition), and compel them either to become Mohammedans or tributaries. For their prophet Mohammed had given them a commission of a very large, nay, unlimited extent, to fight, viz., till all the people were of his religion. The wars which are entered upon in obedience to this command, they call holy wars, with no greater absurdity than we ourselves give the same title to that which was once undertaken against them by Europeans. With this religious object, Abu Bekr sent at this time a[148] force under Khalid into Irak or Babylonia; but his greatest longing was after Syria, which delicious, pleasant, and fruitful country being near to Arabia, seemed to lie very conveniently for him.

The news of his preparation quickly came to the ears of the emperor Heraclius, who despatched a force with all possible speed to check the advance of the Saracens, but with ill success; for the general, with twelve hundred of his men, was killed upon the field of the battle, and the rest routed, the Arabs losing only 120 men. A number of skirmishes followed, in most of which the Christians came off the worst.b

Damascus was besieged for months, and all sorties of the inhabitants crushed with heavy slaughter. Heraclius, at Antioch, sent a great army under Werdan to its relief. Khalid, raising the siege, went to meet it.a

The two armies presently came within sight of each other, and the confidence of the Saracens was somewhat checked, when they perceived the strength of the emperor’s forces, which amounted to no less than seventy thousand. Those who had been in Persia, and seen the vast armies of Chosroes, confessed that they had never beheld an enemy equal to the present, either in number or military preparation. On the second morning they moved forward, and engaged in all parts with all imaginable vigour. The fight, or rather the slaughter, continued till evening. The Christian army was entirely routed and defeated. The Saracens killed that day fifty thousand men. Those that escaped fled, some of them to Cæsarea, others to Damascus, and some to Antioch. The Saracens took plunder of inestimable value, and a great many banners, and crosses made of gold and silver, precious stones, silver and gold chains, rich clothes, and arms without number; which Khalid said he would not divide until Damascus was taken.

The Saracens, returning to Damascus, continued vigorously to press the siege, and reduced the inhabitants to very great straits, who every day made[149] a worse defence. For a while, at last, they begged of Khalid to stay the assault, that they might have a little time to deliberate. But he turned a deaf ear to them, for he had rather take the town by force, and put the inhabitants to the sword, and let his Saracens have the plunder, than that they should surrender, and have security for their lives and their property. At length, through treachery, Khalid entered at the east gate with his Saracens, putting all to the sword, and Christian blood streamed down the streets of Damascus.

Abu Bekr the caliph died the same day that Damascus was taken,[34] which was on Friday, the 23rd of August, 634 A.D. There are various reports concerning his death; some say that he was poisoned by the Jews, eating rice with Harith ben Kaldah, and that they both died of it within a twelvemonth after. But Aisha says, that he bathed himself upon a cold day, which threw him into a fever[35] of which he died within fifteen days.b

Abu Bekr particularly lamented the number of the prophet’s companions that fell in these campaigns, and fearing that the revelations of Mohammed might be dispersed and lost, he gave orders that they should be collected into the Koran. We shall later have occasion to notice the slovenly manner in which the persons employed performed their task; the compilation was subsequently revised in the reign of the caliph Othman, and it is probable that there are many passages far different from those which Mohammed wrote.

When all things were ready, the caliph reviewed the troops and issued that celebrated code of regulations for the conduct of the army; it was addressed to the general Abu Sufyan, and contained the following directions: “Take care to treat your men with tenderness and lenity. Consult with your officers upon all pressing occasions, and encourage them to face the enemy with bravery and resolution. If you are victorious, spare all the aged, the women, and the children. Neither cut down palm trees nor burn any fields of corn. Spare all fruit trees; slay no cattle but such as are required for your own use. Adhere to your engagements inviolably; spare the inhabitants of monasteries; desecrate no houses of religious worship. Cleave the skulls of those members of the synagogue of Satan, who shave their crowns, give them no quarter, unless they embrace Islamism, or pay tribute.”

The character of the first caliph had a beneficial effect on the Mohammedan religion; for though the partisans of Ali accuse him of ambition, and of uniting with his daughter Aisha to suppress the prophet’s declarations in favour of Ali, yet they do not deny him the praise of disinterestedness, justice, and benevolence. Before his accession, he had bestowed the greater part of his estate to feed the poor, and had been publicly named by the prophet the most charitable of men. When placed at the head of affairs, he only took from the treasury the sum absolutely necessary for his daily support; before entering on the sovereignty, he ordered an exact account to be taken of his personal estate, and at his death it was found to be considerably diminished. In fact the absolute ruler of the richest countries of the world left behind him but a single camel and an Ethiopian slave, and even these he bequeathed to his successor. He dictated his will to[150] Othman in the following terms: “In the Name of the Most Merciful God.—This is the last will and testament of Abu Bekr ben Abi Kohafa, when he was in the last hour of this world, and the first of the next; an hour in which the infidel must believe, the wicked be convinced of their evil ways, and liars speak the truth. I nominate Omar ben al-Khattab my successor; therefore, hearken to him, and obey him. If he acts right, he will confirm my expectations; if otherwise, he must render an account of his own actions. My intentions are good, but I cannot foresee the future results. However, those who do ill shall render a severe account hereafter. Fare-ye-well. May ye be ever attended by the divine favour and blessing.” When Abu Bekr had concluded this dictation, he fainted; on his recovery, he desired Othman to read the document, soon after which he expired. When information of the event was brought to Omar, he exclaimed, “The life of Abu Bekr has been such, that it will be impossible for those who come after, to imitate his sublime example.” Two proverbs attributed to him, deserve to be quoted: “Good actions are a sure protection against the blows of adversity.”—“Death is the most difficult of all things before it comes, and the easiest when it is past.”

THE CALIPH OMAR

Omar was, like his predecessor, a native of Mecca; he had been originally a camel-herd, and never became quite free from the coarseness and rusticity incident to his humble origin. At first a zealous idolater, he proposed to extirpate all the followers of Mohammed; when he became afterwards a Mussulman, he was just as eager to massacre all who would not believe in the prophet. Violent on every occasion, he breathed nothing but slaughter; and countless anecdotes are related of his unrelenting temper. One of these must suffice. A Mussulman having a suit against a Jew, was condemned by Mohammed, and in consequence, carried his appeal before the tribunal of Omar; scarcely had he stated his case, when Omar, springing from his seat, struck the appellant dead with one blow of his sabre, exclaiming, “So perish all who will not submit to the decision of God’s chosen prophet.” Rigorous justice, as interpreted by the Mohammedan laws, and extreme severity, rendered his character more respected than beloved. Mohammed said of him, “Truth speaks by the mouth of Omar.” He added, that “if God had to send another prophet on the earth, Omar would be the object of his choice.”

When Abu Bekr informed Omar that he had chosen him as his successor, Omar, with mingled pride and humility, answered, “I have no need of the caliphate.” Abu Bekr replied, “But the caliphate has need of you,” and thus removed all further scruple. On his accession, he called himself the “Caliph of the Caliph of God’s apostle,” but finding the title inconveniently long, he changed it into that of “Commander of the Faithful”; and this became, subsequently, the favourite designation of his successors. When first he addressed his subjects, he stood a step lower on the pulpit than Abu Bekr had been accustomed to do; he informed his hearers that he would not have undertaken the arduous task of government, only that he reposed perfect confidence in their intention to observe the law, and adhere to the pure faith; he concluded with these remarkable words, “O Mussulmans, I take God to witness, that none of you shall be too strong for me to sacrifice the rights of the weak, nor too weak for me to neglect the rights of the strong.”

[151]

No sooner was Omar placed at the head of affairs than the armies of the Mohammedans seemed to have acquired tenfold vigour; and this was not diminished by the severe treatment which the gallant Khalid, for a trivial offence, received from the jealous caliph. The greater part of Syria and Mesopotamia had been subdued during the life of Abu Bekr, the conquest of these countries was now completed; the ancient empire of the Persians was overthrown at the battle of Kadisiya; Palestine, Phœnicia, and Egypt submitted to the Saracen yoke almost without a struggle; and the standard of the prophet floated in triumph from the sands of the Cyrenian desert to the banks of the Indus. “During the reign of Omar,” says Khondemir, “the Saracens conquered thirty-six thousand cities, towns, and castles, destroyed four thousand Christian, Magian, and pagan temples, and erected fourteen hundred mosques.”

The annals of the world present no parallel to this recital; the Arabs were animated by an enthusiasm which made them despise the most fearful odds; they had ever in their mouths the magnificent orientalism, traditionally ascribed to Mohammed, “in the shades of the scymitars is paradise prefigured”; they sought battle as a feast, and counted danger a sport. A fiercer spirit of course displayed itself in the Mohammedan creed; the sanguinary precepts of propagandism, to which the prophet had given utterance after his power was established at Medina, quite obscured the milder doctrine taught at Mecca; and even these were surpassed in ferocity by traditions which some of the sterner enthusiasts declared that they had derived from the prophet himself. Abu Horeira declared that he heard from Mohammed, “He who shall die without having fought for God, or who never proposed that duty to himself, verily consigns himself to destruction by his hypocrisy,” and also the singular declaration, “He who shall bestow a horse upon one who would enlist himself under the banner of the Most High, and be one who has faith in God and in his promises, surely, both the food of that horse and the sustenance of his rider, with the ordure of the former, shall be placed in the scales for his advantage on the day of judgment.” We shall add one more, preserved on the authority of Ibn Abbas: “There are two descriptions of eyes which the fire of hell shall not destroy; the eyes that weep in contemplating the indignation of God, and the eyes which are closed when in the act of combat for the cause of God.”f

THE CONQUEST OF PERSIA

From the rapid conquests of the Saracens a presumption will naturally arise, that the first caliphs commanded in person the armies of the faithful, and sought the crown of martyrdom in the foremost ranks of the battle. The courage of Abu Bekr, Omar, and Othman had indeed been tried in the persecution and wars of the prophet; and the personal assurance of paradise must have taught them to despise the pleasures and dangers of the present world. But they ascended the throne in a venerable or mature age, and esteemed the domestic cares of religion and justice the most important duties of a sovereign. Except the presence of Omar at the siege of Jerusalem, their longest expeditions were the frequent pilgrimage from Medina to Mecca; and they calmly received the tidings of victory as they prayed or preached before the sepulchre of the prophet.

In the sloth and vanity of the palace of Damascus, the succeeding princes of the house of Omayyah were alike destitute of the qualifications of statesmen[152] and of saints. Yet the spoils of unknown nations were continually laid at the foot of their throne, and the uniform ascent of the Arabian greatness must be ascribed to the spirit of the nation rather than the abilities of their chiefs. A large deduction must be allowed for the weakness of their enemies. The birth of Mohammed was fortunately placed in the most degenerate and disorderly period of the Persians, the Romans, and the barbarians of Europe; the empires of Trajan, or even of Constantine or Charlemagne, would have repelled the assault of the naked Saracens, and the torrent of fanaticism might have been obscurely lost in the sands of Arabia.

In the victorious days of the Roman republic, it had been the aim of the senate to confine their consuls and legions to a single war, and completely to suppress a first enemy before they provoked the hostilities of a second. These timid maxims of policy were disdained by the magnanimity or enthusiasm of the Arabian caliphs. With the same vigour and success they invaded the successors of Augustus, and those of Artaxerxes; and the rival monarchies at the same instant became the prey of an enemy whom they had been so long accustomed to despise. One hundred years after Mohammed’s flight from Mecca, the arms and the reign of his successors extended from India to the Atlantic Ocean, over the various and distant provinces which may be comprised under the names of, (1) Persia; (2) Syria; (3) Egypt; (4) Africa; and (5) Spain. Under this general division we may proceed to unfold these memorable transactions; despatching with brevity the remote and less interesting conquests of the East, and reserving a fuller narrative for those domestic countries, which had been included within the pale of the Roman Empire.

In the first year of the first caliph, his lieutenant Khalid, the sword of God, and the scourge of the infidels, advanced to the banks of the Euphrates, and reduced the cities of Anbar and Hira. Westward of the ruins of Babylon a tribe of sedentary Arabs had fixed themselves on the verge of the desert; and Hira was the seat of a race of kings who had embraced the Christian religion, and reigned above six hundred years under the shadow of the throne of Persia. The last of the Mondars was defeated and slain by Khalid; his son was sent a captive to Medina; his nobles bowed before the successor of the prophet; the people were tempted by the example and success of their countrymen; and the caliph accepted as the first-fruits of foreign conquest, an annual tribute of seventy thousand pieces of gold. The conquerors, and even their historians, were astonished by the dawn of their future greatness.

The indignation and fears of the Persians suspended for a moment their intestine divisions. By the unanimous sentence of the priests and nobles, Queen Azarmidokht was deposed—the sixth of the transient usurpers who had arisen and vanished in three or four years, since the death of Chosroes and the retreat of Heraclius. Her tiara was placed on the head of Yezdegerd,[153] the grandson of Chosroes; and the same era, which coincides with an astronomical period, has recorded the fall of the Sassanian dynasty and the religion of Zoroaster. The youth and inexperience of the prince—he was only fifteen years of age—declined a perilous encounter; the royal standard was delivered into the hands of his general Rustem; and a remnant of thirty thousand regular troops was swelled in truth, or in opinion, to 120,000 subjects, or allies, of the great king. The Moslems, whose numbers were reinforced from twelve to thirty thousand, had pitched their camp in the plains of Kadesiya; and their line, though it consisted of fewer men, could produce more soldiers than the unwieldy host of the infidels. The periods of the battle of Kadesiya were distinguished by their peculiar appellations. The first, from the well-timed appearance of six thousand of the Syrian brethren, was denominated the day of succour. The day of concussion might express the disorder of one, or perhaps of both, of the contending armies. The third, a nocturnal tumult, received the whimsical name of the night of barking, from the discordant clamours, which were compared to the inarticulate sounds of the fiercest animals.

The morning of the succeeding day determined the fate of Persia; and a seasonable whirlwind drove a cloud of dust against the faces of the unbelievers. The clangour of arms was re-echoed to the tent of Rustem, who, far unlike the ancient hero of his name, was gently reclining in a cool and tranquil shade, amidst the baggage of his camp, and the train of mules that was laden with gold and silver. On the sound of danger he started from his couch; but his flight was overtaken by a valiant Arab, who caught him by the foot, struck off his head, hoisted it on a lance, and instantly returning to the field of battle, carried slaughter and dismay among the thickest ranks of the Persians. The Saracens confess a loss of 7,500 men; and the battle of Kadesiya is justly described by the epithets of obstinate and atrocious. The standard of the monarchy was overthrown and captured in the field—a leathern apron of a blacksmith, who, in ancient times, had arisen the deliverer of Persia; but this badge of heroic poverty was disguised, and almost concealed, by a profusion of precious gems. After this victory, the wealthy province of Irak or Assyria submitted to the caliph, and his conquests were firmly established by the speedy foundation of Bassora, a place which ever commands the trade and navigation of the Persians.

After the defeat of Kadesiya, a country intersected by rivers and canals might have opposed an insuperable barrier to the victorious cavalry; and the walls of Ctesiphon or Madain, which had resisted the battering-rams of the Romans, would not have yielded to the darts of the Saracens. But the flying Persians were overcome by the belief that the last day of their religion and empire was at hand; the strongest posts were abandoned by treachery or cowardice; and the king, with a part of his family and treasures, escaped to Holwan at the foot of the Median hills. In the third month after the battle, Said, the lieutenant of Omar, passed the Tigris without opposition; the capital was taken by assault; and the disorderly resistance of the people gave a keener edge to the sabres of the Moslems, who shouted with religious transport, “This is the white palace of Chosroes, this is the promise of the apostle of God!” The naked robbers of the desert were suddenly enriched beyond the measure of their hope or knowledge. Each chamber revealed a new treasure secreted with art, or ostentatiously displayed; the gold and silver, the various wardrobes and precious furniture, surpassed (says Abulfeda) the estimate of fancy or numbers; and another historian defines the untold and almost infinite mass by the fabulous computation of three thousands[154] of thousands of thousands of pieces of gold. The sack of Ctesiphon was followed by its desertion and gradual decay. The Saracens disliked the air and situation of the place, and Omar was advised by his general to remove the seat of government to the western side of the Euphrates.

In every age the foundation and ruin of the Assyrian cities has been easy and rapid; the country is destitute of stone and timber, and the most solid structures are composed of bricks baked in the sun, and joined by a cement of the native bitumen. After the loss of the battle of Jalula, Yezdegerd fled from Holwan, and concealed his shame and despair in the mountains of Farsistan, from whence Cyrus had descended with his equal and valiant companions. The courage of the nation survived that of the monarch; among the hills to the south of Ecbatana or Hamadan, 150,000 Persians made a third and final stand for their religion and country; and the decisive battle of Nehavend was styled by the Arabs the “victory of victories” (641).

The geography of Persia is darkly delineated by the Greeks and Latins; but the most illustrious of her cities appear to be more ancient than the invasion of the Arabs. By the reduction of Hamadan and Ispahan, of Caswin, Tabriz, and Rei, they gradually approached the shores of the Caspian Sea; and the orators of Mecca might applaud the success and spirit of the faithful, who had already lost sight of the Northern Bear, and had almost transcended the bounds of the habitable world. Again turning towards the west and the Roman Empire, they repassed the Tigris over the bridge of Mosul, and, in the captive provinces of Armenia and Mesopotamia, embraced their victorious brethren of the Syrian army. From the palace of Madain their eastern progress was not less rapid or extensive. They advanced along the Tigris and the gulf; penetrated through the passes of the mountains into the valley of Estachar or Persepolis; and profaned the last sanctuary of the Magian empire. The grandson of Chosroes was nearly surprised among the falling columns and mutilated figures; a sad emblem of the past and present fortune of Persia; he fled with accelerated haste over the desert of Kirman, implored the aid of the warlike Segestans, and sought an humble refuge on the verge of the Turkish and Chinese power. But a victorious army is insensible of fatigue; the Arabs divided their forces in the pursuit of a timorous enemy; and the caliph Othman promised the government of Khorasan to the first general who should enter that large and populous country, the kingdom of the ancient Bactrians. The condition was accepted; the prize was deserved; the standard of Mohammed was planted on the walls of Herat, Merou, and Balkh; and the successful leader neither halted nor reposed till his foaming cavalry had tasted the waters of the Oxus. In the public anarchy, the independent governors of the cities and castles obtained their separate capitulations; the terms were granted or imposed by the esteem, the prudence, or the compassion of the victors; and a simple profession of faith established the distinction between a brother and a slave. The administration of Persia was regulated by an actual survey of the people, the cattle, and the fruits of the earth; and this monument, which attests the vigilance of the caliphs, might have instructed the philosophers of every age.

The flight of Yezdegerd had carried him beyond the Oxus, and as far as the Jaxartes, two rivers of ancient and modern renown, which descend from the mountains of India towards the Caspian Sea. He was hospitably entertained by Tarkhan, prince of Fergana, a fertile province on the Jaxartes; the king of Samarcand, with the Turkish tribes of Sogdiana and Scythia, were moved by the lamentations and promises of the fallen monarch; and he[155] solicited by a suppliant embassy, the more solid and powerful friendship of the emperor of China. The virtuous Taitsong, the first of the dynasty of the Tang, may be justly compared with the Antonines of Rome. His people enjoyed the blessings of prosperity and peace, and his dominion was acknowledged by forty-four hordes of the barbarians of Tartary. His last garrisons of Cashgar and Khoten maintained a frequent intercourse with their neighbours of the Jaxartes and Oxus; a recent colony of Persians had introduced into China the astronomy of the magi; and Taitsong might be alarmed by the rapid progress and dangerous vicinity of the Arabs. The influence and perhaps the supplies of China revived the hopes of Yezdegerd and the zeal of the worshippers of the fire; and he returned with an army of Turks to conquer the inheritance of his fathers. The fortunate Moslems, without unsheathing their swords, were the spectators of his ruin and death. The grandson of Chosroes was betrayed by his servant, insulted by the seditious inhabitants of Merou, and oppressed, defeated, and pursued by his barbarian allies. He reached the banks of a river, and offered his rings and bracelets for an instant passage in a miller’s boat. Ignorant or insensible of royal distress, the rustic replied, that four drachms of silver were the daily profit of his mill, and that he would not suspend his work unless the loss were repaid. In this moment of hesitation and delay, the last of the Sassanian kings was overtaken and slaughtered by the Turkish cavalry in the nineteenth year of his unhappy reign. His son Firuz, an humble client of the Chinese emperor, accepted the station of captain of his guards; and the magian worship was long preserved by a colony of loyal exiles in the province of Bokhara. His grandson inherited the regal name; but after a faint and fruitless enterprise, he returned to China and ended his days in the palace of Sigan. The male line of the Sassanids was extinct; but the female captives, the daughters of Persia, were given to the conquerors in servitude, or marriage; and the race of the caliphs and imams was ennobled by the blood of their royal mothers.

After the fall of the Persian kingdom, the river Oxus divided the territories of the Saracens and of the Turks. This narrow boundary was soon overleaped by the spirit of the Arabs; the governors of Khorasan extended their successive inroads; and one of their triumphs was adorned with the buskin of a Turkish queen, which she dropped in her precipitate flight beyond the hills of Bokhara. But the final conquest of Transoxiana, as well as of Spain, was reserved for the glorious reign of the inactive Walid; and the name of Katiba, the camel driver, declares the origin and merit of his successful lieutenant. While one of his colleagues displayed the first Mohammedan banner on the banks of the Indus, the spacious regions between the Oxus, the Jaxartes, and the Caspian Sea, were reduced by the arms of Katiba to the obedience of the prophet, and of the caliph. A tribute of two millions of pieces of gold was imposed on the infidels; their idols were burned or broken; the Mussulman chief pronounced a sermon in the new mosque of Khwarizm; after several battles, the Turkish hordes were driven back to the desert; and the emperors of China solicited the friendship of the victorious Arabs.

Before the invasion of the Saracens, Khwarizm, Bokhara and Samarcand were rich and populous under the yoke of the shepherds of the north. The mutual wants of India and Europe were supplied by the diligence of the Sogdian merchants; and the inestimable art of transforming linen into paper, has been transferred from the manufacture of Samarcand over the western world.

[156]

THE SYRIAN CONQUEST COMPLETED

From the conquest of Damascus the Saracens proceeded to Heliopolis and Emesa. In the prosecution of the war, their policy was not less effectual than their sword. By short and separate truces they dissolved the union of the enemy; accustomed the Syrians to compare their friendship with their enmity; familiarised the idea of their language, religion, and manners; and exhausted, by clandestine purchase, the magazines and arsenals of the cities which they returned to besiege. They aggravated the ransom of the more wealthy or the more obstinate; and Chalcis alone was taxed at five thousand ounces of gold, five thousand ounces of silver, two thousand robes of silk, and as many figs and olives as would load five thousand asses. But the terms of truce or capitulation were faithfully observed; and the lieutenant of the caliph, who had promised not to enter the walls of the captive Baalbec, remained tranquil and immovable in his tent till the jarring factions solicited the interposition of a foreign master. The conquest of the plain and valley of Syria was achieved in less than two years. Yet the commander of the faithful reproved the slowness of their progress, and the Saracens, bewailing their fault with tears of rage and repentance, called aloud on their chiefs to lead them forth to fight the battles of the Lord.

It was incumbent on the Saracens to exert the full powers of their valour and enthusiasm against the forces of the emperor, who was taught by repeated losses, that the rovers of the desert had undertaken, and would speedily achieve, a regular and permanent conquest. From the provinces of Europe and Asia, fourscore thousand soldiers were transported by sea and land to Antioch and Cæsarea; the light troops of the army consisted of sixty thousand Christian Arabs of the tribes of Ghassan. In the neighbourhood of Bosra, the springs of Mount Hermon descend in a torrent to the plain of Decapolis, or ten cities; and the Hieromax, a name which has been corrupted to Yermuk, is lost after a short course in the lake of Tiberias. The banks of this obscure stream were illustrated by a long and bloody encounter. On this momentous occasion, the public voice, and the modesty of Abu Obaidah, restored the command to the most deserving of the Moslems. Khalid assumed his station in the front, his colleague was posted in the rear, that the disorder of the fugitives might be checked by his venerable aspect and the sight of the yellow banner which Mohammed had displayed before the walls of Khaibar.

The last line was occupied by the sister of Derar, with the Arabian women who had enlisted in this holy war, who were accustomed to wield the bow and the lance, and who in a moment of captivity had defended, against the uncircumcised ravishers, their chastity and religion. The exhortation of the generals was brief and forcible: “Paradise is before you, the devil and hell-fire in your rear.” Yet such was the weight of the Roman cavalry, that the right wing of the Arabs was broken and separated from the main body. Thrice did they retreat in disorder, and thrice were they driven back to the charge by the reproaches and blows of the women. Four thousand[157] and thirty of the Moslems were buried in the field of battle; and the skill of the Armenian archers enabled seven hundred to boast that they had lost an eye in that meritorious service. The veterans of the Syrian war acknowledged that it was the hardest and most doubtful of the days which they had seen. But it was likewise the most decisive; many thousands of the Greeks and Syrians fell by the swords of the Arabs; many were slaughtered, after the defeat, in the woods and mountains; many, by mistaking the ford, were drowned in the waters of the Yermuk; and however the loss may be magnified, the Christian writers confess and bewail the bloody punishment of their sins.

After the battle of Yermuk, the Roman army no longer appeared in the field; and the Saracens might securely choose, among the fortified towns of Syria, the first object of their attack. They consulted the caliph whether they should march to Cæsarea or Jerusalem; and the advice of Ali determined the immediate siege of the latter. To a profane eye, Jerusalem was the first or second capital of Palestine; but after Mecca and Medina, it was revered and visited by the devout Moslems, as the temple of the Holy Land, which had been sanctified by the revelation of Moses, of Jesus, and of Mohammed himself.

The siege of Jerusalem lasted four months; not a day was lost without some action of sally or assault; the military engines incessantly played from the ramparts; and the inclemency of the winter was still more painful and destructive to the Arabs. The Christians yielded at length to the perseverance of the besiegers. The patriarch Sophronius appeared on the walls, and by the voice of an interpreter demanded a conference. After a vain attempt to dissuade the lieutenant of the caliph from his impious enterprise, he proposed, in the name of the people, a fair capitulation, with this extraordinary clause, that the articles of security should be ratified by the authority and presence of Omar himself. The question was debated in the council of Medina; the sanctity of the place, and the advice of Ali, persuaded the caliph to gratify the wishes of his soldiers and enemies, and the simplicity of Omar’s journey is more illustrious than the royal pageants of vanity and oppression. The conqueror of Persia and Syria was mounted on a red camel, which carried, besides his person, a bag of corn, a bag of dates, a wooden dish, and a leathern bottle of water. By his command the ground of the temple of Solomon was prepared for the foundation of a mosque; and, during a residence of ten days, he regulated the present and future state of his Syrian conquests. Medina might be jealous, lest the caliph should be detained by the sanctity of Jerusalem or the beauty of Damascus; her apprehensions were dispelled by his prompt and voluntary return to the tomb of the apostle.

To achieve what yet remained of the Syrian war, the caliph had formed two separate armies; a chosen detachment, under Amru and Yazid, was left in the camp of Palestine; while the larger division, under the standard of Abu Obaidah and Khalid, marched away to the north against Antioch and Aleppo. The castle of Aleppo, distinct from the city, stood erect on a lofty artificial mound, and the sides were sharpened to a precipice, and faced with freestone. After the loss of three thousand men, the garrison was still equal to the defence. In a siege of four or five months, the hardest of the Syrian war, great numbers of the Saracens were killed and wounded. The exhortation of the commander of the faithful, not to give up the siege, was responded to by a supply of volunteers from all the tribes of Arabia, who arrived in the camp on horses or camels. Among these was Dames, of a servile birth, but of gigantic size and intrepid resolution. At the darkest hour of the night he[158] scaled the most accessible height, a place where the stones were less entire, or the slope less perpendicular, or the guard less vigilant. Seven of the stoutest Saracens mounted on each other’s shoulders and the weight of the column was sustained on the broad and sinewy back of the gigantic slave.

The foremost in this painful ascent could grasp and climb the lowest part of the battlements; they silently stabbed and cast down the sentinels; and the thirty brethren, repeating a pious ejaculation, “O apostle of God, help and deliver us!” were successively drawn up by the long folds of their turbans. They overpowered the guard, unbolted the gate, let down the drawbridge, and defended the narrow pass till the arrival of Khalid, with the dawn of day, relieved their danger and assured their conquest. After the loss of this important post, and the defeat of the last of the Roman armies, the luxury of Antioch trembled and obeyed. Her safety was ransomed with three hundred thousand pieces of gold; but the throne of the successors of Alexander, the seat of the Roman government in the East, which had been decorated by Cæsar with the titles of free, and holy, and inviolate, was degraded under the yoke of the caliphs to the secondary rank of a provincial town.

The loss of Damascus and Jerusalem, the bloody fields of Aiznadin and Yermuk, may be imputed in some degree to the absence or misconduct of the sovereign. Instead of defending the sepulchre of Christ, he involved the church and state in a metaphysical controversy for the unity of his will; and while Heraclius crowned the offspring of his second nuptials, he was tamely stripped of the most valuable part of their inheritance. In the cathedral of Antioch, in the presence of the bishops, at the foot of the crucifix, he bewailed the sins of the prince and people; but his confession instructed the world, that it was vain, and perhaps impious, to resist the judgment of God. The Saracens were invincible in fact, since they were invincible in opinion. After bidding an eternal farewell to Syria, Heraclius secretly embarked with a few attendants, and absolved the faith of his subjects. From the north and south the Saracen troops of Antioch and Jerusalem advanced along the seashore, till their banners were joined under the walls of the Phœnician cities; Tripolis and Tyre were betrayed; and a fleet of fifty transports, which entered without distrust the captive harbours, brought a seasonable supply of arms and provisions to the camp of the Saracens. Their labours were terminated by the unexpected surrender of Cæsarea. The remainder of the province, Ramlah, Ptolemais or Acre, Nablus or Neapolis, Gaza, Askalon, Berytus, Sidon, Gabala, Laodicea, Apamea, Hierapolis, no longer presumed to dispute the will of the conqueror; and Syria bowed under the sceptre of the caliphs, seven hundred years after Pompey had despoiled the last of the Macedonian kings.

The sieges and battles of six campaigns had consumed many thousands of the Moslems. They died with the reputation and the cheerfulness of martyrs; and the simplicity of their faith may be expressed in the words of an Arabian youth, when he embraced, for the last time, his sister and mother; “It is not,” said he, “the delicacies of Syria, or fading delights of this world, that have prompted me to devote my life in the cause of religion. But I seek the favour of God and his apostle; and I have heard from one of the companions of the prophet, that the spirits of the martyrs will be lodged in the crops of green birds, who shall taste the fruits, and drink of the rivers of paradise. Farewell, we shall meet again among the groves and fountains which God has provided for his elect.”

The more fortunate Arabs who survived the war, and persevered in the faith, were restrained by their abstemious leader from the abuse of prosperity.[159] After a refreshment of three days, Abu Obaidah withdrew his troops from the pernicious contagion of the luxury of Antioch, and assured the caliph that their religion and virtue could only be preserved by the hard discipline of poverty and labour. The year of their triumph was marked by a mortality of men and cattle; and twenty-five thousand Saracens were snatched away from the possession of Syria. The death of Abu Obaidah might be lamented by the Christians; but his brethren recollected that he was one of the ten elect, whom the prophet had named heirs of paradise. Khalid survived his brethren about three years; and the tomb of the Sword of God is shown near Emesa. His valour, which founded in Arabia and Syria the empire of the caliphs, was fortified by the opinion of a special providence; and as long as he wore a cap which had been blessed by Mohammed he deemed himself invulnerable amidst the darts of the infidels.

The place of the first conquerors was supplied by a new generation of their children and countrymen; Syria became the seat and support of the house of Omayyah; and the revenue, the soldiers, the ships of that powerful kingdom, were consecrated to enlarge on every side the empire of the caliphs. But the Saracens despise a superfluity of fame; and their historians scarcely condescend to mention the subordinate conquests which are lost in the splendour and rapidity of their victorious career. To the north of Syria, they passed Mount Taurus, and reduced to their obedience the province of Cilicia, with its capital Tarsus, the ancient monument of the Assyrian kings. Beyond a second ridge of the same mountains, they spread the flame of war, rather than the light of religion, as far as the shores of the Euxine and the neighbourhood of Constantinople. To the east they advanced to the banks and sources of the Euphrates and Tigris; the long-disputed barrier of Rome and Persia was forever confounded; the walls of Edessa and Amida, of Dara and Nisibis, which had resisted the arms and engines of Sapor or Nushirvan, were levelled in the dust; and the holy city of Abgarus might vainly produce the epistle or the image of Christ to an unbelieving conqueror. To the west the Syrian kingdom is bounded by the sea; and the ruin of Aradus, a small island or peninsula on the coast, was postponed during ten years. But the hills of Libanus abounded in timber; the trade of Phœnicia was populous in mariners; and a fleet of seventeen hundred barks was equipped and manned by the natives of the desert. The imperial navy of the Romans fled before them from the Pamphylian rocks to the Hellespont; but the spirit of the emperor, a grandson of Heraclius, had been subdued before the combat by a dream and a pun. The Saracens rode masters of the sea; and the islands of Cyprus, Rhodes, and the Cyclades, were successively exposed to their rapacious visits. Three hundred years before the Christian era, the memorable, though fruitless siege of Rhodes, by Demetrius, had furnished that maritime republic with the materials and the subject of a trophy. A gigantic statue of Apollo, or the sun, seventy cubits in height, was erected at the entrance of the harbour, a monument of the freedom and the arts of Greece. After standing fifty-six years, the Colossus of Rhodes was overthrown by an earthquake; but the massy trunk, and huge fragments, lay scattered eight centuries on the ground, and are often described as one of the wonders of the ancient world. They were collected by the diligence of the Saracens, and sold to a Jewish merchant of Edessa, who is said to have laden nine hundred camels with the weight of the brass metal: an enormous weight, though we should include the hundred colossal figures, and the three thousand statues which adorned the prosperity of the city of the sun.

[160]

EGYPT CAPTURED (639 A.D.)

The conquest of Egypt may be explained by the character of the victorious Saracen, one of the first of his nation in an age when the meanest of the brethren was exalted above his nature by the spirit of enthusiasm. The birth of Amru was at once base and illustrious; his reason or his interest determined him to renounce the worship of idols; he escaped from Mecca with his friend Khalid, and the prophet of Medina enjoyed at the same moment the satisfaction of embracing the two firmest champions of his cause. His merit was not overlooked by the first two successors of Mohammed; they were indebted to his arms for the conquest of Palestine; and in all the battles and sieges of Syria, he united with the temper of a chief the valour of an adventurous soldier.

From his camp, in Palestine, Amru had surprised or anticipated the caliph’s leave for the invasion of Egypt. The magnanimous Omar trusted in his God and his sword, which had shaken the thrones of Chosroes and Cæsar; but when he compared the slender force of the Moslems with the greatness of the enterprise, he condemned his own rashness and listened to his timid companions. At the head of only four thousand Arabs, the intrepid Amru had marched away from his station of Gaza when he was overtaken by the messenger of Omar. “If you are still in Syria,” said the ambiguous mandate, “retreat without delay; but if, at the receipt of this epistle, you have already reached the frontiers of Egypt, advance with confidence, and depend on the succour of God and of your brethren.” The experience, perhaps the secret intelligence, of Amru had taught him to suspect the mutability of courts; and he continued his march till his tents were unquestionably pitched on Egyptian ground. He there assembled his officers, broke the seal, perused the epistle, gravely inquired the name and situation of the place, and declared his ready obedience to the commands of the caliph.

After a siege of thirty days, he took possession of Farmah or Pelusium, and that key of Egypt, as it has been justly named, unlocked the entrance of the country, as far as the ruins of Heliopolis and the neighbourhood of the modern Cairo.

On the western side of the Nile, at a small distance to the east of the pyramids, at a small distance to the south of the Delta, Memphis, 150 furlongs in circumference, displayed the magnificence of ancient kings. The siege was protracted to seven months; and the rash invaders were encompassed and threatened by the inundation of the Nile. Their last assault was bold and successful; they passed the ditch, which had been fortified with iron spikes, applied their scaling-ladders, entered the fortress with the shout of “God is victorious!” and drove the remnant of the Greeks to their boats, and the isle of Rouda. The spot was afterwards recommended to the conqueror by the easy communication with the gulf and the peninsula of Arabia; the remains of Memphis were deserted; the tents of the Arabs were converted into permanent habitations, and the first mosque was blessed by the presence of fourscore companions of Mohammed. A new city arose in their camp on the eastward bank of the Nile. But the name of Cairo, the town of victory, more strictly belongs to the modern capital, which was founded in the tenth century by the Fatimite caliphs. It has gradually receded from the river; but the continuity of buildings may be traced by an attentive eye from the monuments of Sesostris [Ramses II] to those of Saladin.

[161]

Yet the Arabs, after a glorious and profitable enterprise, must have retreated to the desert, had they not found a powerful alliance in the heart of the country.

The persecution of the emperors had converted a sect into a nation, and alienated Egypt from their religion and government. The Saracens were received as the deliverers of the Jacobite church; and a secret and effectual treaty was opened during the siege of Memphis between a victorious army and a people of slaves. A rich and noble Egyptian of the name of Mukawkas, had dissembled his faith to obtain the administration of his province; in the disorders of the Persian War he aspired to independence; the embassy of Mohammed ranked him among princes; but he declined, with rich gifts and ambiguous compliments, the proposal of a new religion.

In his first conference with Amru, he heard without indignation the usual option of the Koran, the tribute or the sword; and he cheerfully submitted to pay tribute and obedience to his temporal successors. The tribute was ascertained at two pieces of gold for the head of every Christian; but old men, monks, women, and children of both sexes, under sixteen years of age, were exempted from this personal assessment. At the pressing summons of Amru, their patriarch Benjamin emerged from his desert; and, after the first interview, the courteous Arab affected to declare that he had never conversed with a Christian priest of more innocent manners and a more venerable aspect. In the march from Memphis to Alexandria, the lieutenant of Omar entrusted his safety to the zeal and gratitude of the Egyptians; the roads and bridges were diligently repaired; and in every step of his progress, he could depend on a constant supply of provisions and intelligence. The Greeks of Egypt, whose numbers could scarcely equal a tenth of the natives, were overwhelmed by the universal defection; they had ever been hated, they were no longer feared; the magistrate fled from his tribunal, the bishop from his altar; and the distant garrisons were surprised or starved by the surrounding multitudes. Had not the Nile afforded a safe and ready conveyance to the sea, not an individual could have escaped who, by birth, or language, or office, or religion, was connected with their odious name.

[162]

By the retreat of the Greeks from the provinces of Upper Egypt, a considerable force was collected in the island of Delta; the natural and artificial channels of the Nile afforded a succession of strong and defensible posts; and the road to Alexandria was laboriously cleared by the victory of the Saracens in two-and-twenty days of general or partial combat. In their annals of conquest, the siege of Alexandria is perhaps the most arduous and important enterprise. The first trading city in the world was abundantly replenished with the means of subsistence and defence. Her numerous inhabitants fought for the dearest of human rights, religion and property; and the enmity of the natives seemed to exclude them from the common benefit of peace and toleration. The sea was continually open; and if Heraclius had been awake to the public distress, fresh armies of Romans and barbarians might have been poured into the harbour to save the second capital of the empire.

In every attack, the sword, the banner of Amru, glittered in the van of the Moslems. On a memorable day, he was betrayed by his imprudent valour: his followers who had entered the citadel were driven back; and the general, with a friend and a slave, remained a prisoner in the hands of the Christians. When Amru was conducted before the prefect, he remembered his dignity and forgot his situation; a lofty demeanour and resolute language revealed the lieutenant of the caliph, and the battle-axe of a soldier was already raised to strike off the head of the audacious captive. His life was saved by the readiness of his slave, who instantly gave his master a blow on the face, and commanded him, with an angry tone, to be silent in the presence of his superiors. The credulous Greek was deceived; he listened to the offer of a treaty, and his prisoners were dismissed in the hope of a more respectable embassy, till the joyful acclamations of the camp announced the return of their general, and insulted the folly of the infidels. At length, after a siege of fourteen months, and the loss of three-and-twenty thousand men, the Saracens prevailed.

The commander of the faithful rejected with firmness the idea of pillage, and directed his lieutenant to reserve the wealth and revenue of Alexandria for the public service and the propagation of the faith; the inhabitants were numbered; a tribute was imposed; the zeal and resentment of the Jacobites were curbed, and the Melchites, who submitted to the Arabian yoke, were indulged in the obscure but tranquil exercise of their worship. The intelligence of this disgraceful and calamitous event afflicted the declining health of the emperor; and Heraclius died of a dropsy about seven weeks after the loss of Alexandria.[36] Under the minority of his grandson, the clamours of a people deprived of their daily sustenance compelled the Byzantine court to undertake the recovery of the capital of Egypt. In the space of four years, the harbour and fortifications of Alexandria were twice occupied by a fleet and army of Romans. They were twice expelled by the valour of Amru, who was recalled by the domestic peril from the distant wars of Tripolis and Nubia. But the facility of the attempt, the repetition of the insult, and the obstinacy of the resistance provoked him to swear that, if a third time he drove the infidels into the sea, he would render Alexandria as accessible on all sides as the house of a prostitute. Faithful to his promise, he dismantled several parts of the walls and towers, but the people were spared in the chastisement of the city, and the mosque of Mercy was erected on the spot where the victorious general had stopped the fury of his troops.

[163]

THE ALLEGED BURNING OF THE LIBRARY

We should deceive the expectation of the reader if we passed in silence the fate of the Alexandrian library, as it is described by the learned Abul-Faraj. The spirit of Amru was more curious and liberal than that of his brethren, and in his leisure hours the Arabian chief was pleased with the conversation of John, the last disciple of Ammonius, and who derived the surname of Philoponus from his laborious studies of grammar and philosophy. Emboldened by this familiar intercourse, Philoponus presumed to solicit a gift, inestimable in his opinion, contemptible in that of the barbarians—the royal library, which alone among the spoils of Alexandria had not been appropriated by the visit and the seal of the conqueror. Amru was inclined to gratify the wish of the grammarian, but his rigid integrity refused to alienate the minutest object without the consent of the caliph; and the well-known answer of Omar was inspired by the ignorance of a fanatic: “If these writings of the Greeks agree with the book of God, they are useless and need not be preserved; if they disagree, they are pernicious, and ought to be destroyed.” The sentence was executed with blind obedience; the volumes of paper or parchment were distributed to the four thousand baths of the city; and such was their incredible multitude, that six months was barely sufficient for the consumption of this precious fuel. Since the Dynasties of Abul-Faraj have been given to the world in a Latin version, the tale has been repeatedly transcribed; and every scholar, with pious indignation, has deplored the irreparable shipwreck of the learning, the arts, and the genius of antiquity.

For our own part, we are strongly tempted to deny both the fact and the consequences. The fact is indeed marvellous. “Read and wonder!” says the historian himself; and the solitary report of a stranger, who wrote at the end of six hundred years on the confines of Media, is overbalanced by the silence of two annalists of a more early date, both Christians, both natives of Egypt, and the most ancient of whom, the patriarch Eutychius, has amply described the conquest of Alexandria. The rigid sentence of Omar is repugnant to the sound and orthodox precept of the Mohammedan casuists: they expressly declare that the religious books of the Jews and Christians, which are acquired by the right of war, should never be committed to the flames; and that the works of profane science, historians or poets, physicians or philosophers, may be lawfully applied to the use of the faithful. A more destructive zeal may perhaps be attributed to the first successors of Mohammed; yet, in this instance, the conflagration would have speedily expired in the deficiency of materials. We shall not recapitulate the disasters of the Alexandrian library, the involuntary flame that was kindled by Cæsar in his own defence, or the mischievous bigotry of the Christians, who studied to destroy the monuments of idolatry.[37] But if we gradually descend from the[164] age of the Antonines to that of Theodosius, we shall learn from a chain of contemporary witnesses that the royal palace and the temple of Serapis no longer contained the four, or the seven, hundred thousand volumes, which had been assembled by the curiosity and magnificence of the Ptolemies. Perhaps the church and seat of the patriarchs might be enriched with a repository of books; but if the ponderous mass of Arian and monophysite controversy were indeed consumed in the public baths, a philosopher may allow, with a smile, that it was ultimately devoted to the benefit of mankind. We sincerely regret the more valuable libraries which have been involved in the ruin of the Roman Empire; but when we seriously compute the lapse of ages, the waste of ignorance, and the calamities of war, our treasures, rather than our losses, are the object of our surprise. Many curious and interesting facts are buried in oblivion; the three great historians of Rome have been transmitted to our hands in a mutilated state, and we are deprived of many pleasing compositions of the lyric, iambic, and dramatic poetry of the Greeks. Yet we should gratefully remember that the mischances of time and accident have spared the classic works to which the suffrage of antiquity had adjudged the first place of genius and glory; the teachers of ancient knowledge who are still extant had perused and compared the writings of their predecessors; nor can it fairly be presumed that any important truth, any useful discovery in art or nature, has been snatched away from the curiosity of modern ages.

In the administration of Egypt, Amru balanced the demands of justice and policy. In the management of the revenue he disapproved the simple but oppressive mode of a capitation, and preferred with reason a proportion of taxes, deducted on every branch from the clear profits of agriculture and commerce. A third part of the tribute was appropriated to the annual repairs of the dikes and canals, so essential to the public welfare. Under this administration the fertility of Egypt supplied the dearth of Arabia; and a string of camels, laden with corn and provisions, covered almost without an interval the long road from Memphis to Medina. But the genius of Amru soon renewed the maritime communication which had been attempted or achieved by the Pharaohs, the Ptolemies, or the Cæsars; and a canal, at least eighty miles in length, was opened from the Nile to the Red Sea. This inland[165] navigation, which would have joined the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean, was soon discontinued as useless and dangerous: the throne was removed from Medina to Damascus; and the Grecian fleets might have explored a passage to the holy cities of Arabia.g

Amru, being now possessed of Egypt, began to look a little further towards the western part of Africa; and in a short time made himself master of all that country which lies between Barcah and Zeweilah. Shortly after this he took Tripolis. If we consider the extent of his success, it alone is great enough to command our admiration even though nothing else had been accomplished in any other part. But in the East, also, the victorious arms made no less progress, and the Mohammedan crescent now began to shed its malignant influence upon as large and considerable dominions as the Roman eagle ever soared over. About this time, Aderbaijan, Ainwerdah, Harran, Roha, Rakkah, Nisibin, Ehwaz, Siwas, and Khorasan were all brought under subjection to the Saracens.

About two years after this, Omar, the caliph, was killed. The account of his death is as follows: One Firuz, a Persian, of the sect of the magi, or Parsees, as being of a different religion from the Mussulmans, had a daily tribute of two pieces of silver imposed upon him by his master, and made his complaint to Omar, demanding to have a part of it remitted. Omar told him he did not think it at all unreasonable, considering he could well afford it out of what he earned. With his answer Firuz was so provoked that he did as good as threaten the caliph to his face, who, however, took little notice of his passion. Firuz watched his opportunity; and not long after, whilst Omar was saying the morning prayer in the mosque, stabbed him thrice in the belly with a dagger. The Saracens in the mosque rushing upon him immediately, he made a desperate defence, and stabbed thirteen of them, of whom seven died. At last, one that stood by threw his vest over him, and seized him; when, perceiving himself caught, he stabbed himself. Omar lived three days after the wound, and then died, in the month of Dhul-haj, in the twenty-third year of the Hegira, 644 A.D., after he had reigned ten years, six months, and eight days, and was sixty-three years old; which is the same age at which, according to some authors, Mohammed, Abu Bekr, and Aisha, Mohammed’s wife, died.

The conquests gained by the Saracens in his reign were so considerable that, though they had never been extended, the countries they had subdued would have made a very formidable empire. He drove all the Jews and Christians out of Arabia; subdued Syria, Egypt, and other territories in Africa, besides the greater part of Persia. And yet all this greatness, which would have been too weighty for an ordinary man to bear, especially if, as in Omar’s case, it did not descend to him as an hereditary possession, for which he had been prepared by a suitable education, but was gotten on a sudden by men who had been acquainted with, and used to, nothing great before, had no effect upon the caliph.b

Neither splendid victories nor extensive dominions changed the stern character of Omar; he still preserved the rustic simplicity of his manners and his ancient contempt for luxurious ornament. When he departed from Medina to receive the submission of Jerusalem, he was mounted on a red camel, having for his entire equipage two sacks, one containing corn and the other fruit; before him was a leathern vessel of water, and behind him a large platter from which he used to take his meals. In this guise he travelled the entire road from Medina to Jerusalem, punishing the Mussulmans who led a scandalous life, and providing for a rigorous administration of justice.

[166]

On his arrival, the inhabitants prepared a splendid palace for his reception; but he refused to enter the city, and had a tent erected outside the walls. In this tent the deputies found the master of their destinies sitting on the naked earth. The terms granted to the citizens of Jerusalem are remarkable for their moderation; the security of the persons and properties of the inhabitants was guaranteed, the free exercise of religion permitted, and the churches allowed to remain with their present possessors. Even when the caliph was anxious to erect a mosque, he requested the patriarch to point him out an appropriate situation; that prelate led him to the spot where Solomon’s temple once stood, which was then covered with filth, and the caliph readily accepted the ground as it was. He himself set the example of clearing the rubbish; the army followed with eager emulation, and the mosque of Omar, erected on this spot, is one of the most beautiful specimens of Arabian architecture. But though tolerant to the Christians, the caliph showed himself severe to those of his own followers who had departed from the rigour of the national manners. Having learned that some of his men wore flowing robes of silk, he ordered them to be extended on the earth, with their faces to the ground, and their silken robes to be torn from their shoulders. He punished with the bastinado those convicted of drinking wine; he made proclamation that those who had transgressed, should accuse themselves, and such was the influence he possessed over his troops, that many voluntarily confessed their guilt, and submitted to the degrading punishment.

In the history of Mohammedanism, Omar is a person second only in importance to the founder of Islam. His strict severity was useful at a time when unprecedented success seemed to excuse military violence; his impartiality greatly abated the calamities of the conquest. He did not spare the gallant Khalid, but it is probable that, in his conduct to that hero, he was actuated more by jealousy than by a love of justice; it must however be added, that in no instance did he permit high station to shelter oppressors. A curious circumstance, characteristic of the age, is recorded. Omar carried a cane with which he personally chastised officers even of the highest rank, whom he detected in any guilty action, and hence arose the proverb, “Omar’s cane is more terrible than the sword of the bravest warrior.”

His strictness in enforcing religious ordinances was carried to the very extreme of fanaticism; by his orders the splendid library which the Ptolemies had collected in Alexandria, was said to have been burned to heat the public baths; and the invaluable records of Persia, assembled by the zeal of the Sassanides in Madain, were hurled into the waters of the Tigris. His early education had rendered him insensible to the charms of literature or art; when his generals sent him, from the palace of the Persian kings, an unrivalled piece of tapestry, representing a flower garden, worked with gold and precious stones, he ordered this elaborate piece of workmanship to be cut in pieces, and the fragments distributed to his soldiers. For his own use, he had neither palace, nor court, nor house; during the time of prayer, he publicly officiated in the mosque; the remainder of the day he spent in the streets and squares, and it was there he gave audience to the ambassadors of the most powerful cotemporary princes. His dress was not better than that of his meanest subjects; when reproached for the deficiencies of his appearance, he replied, “I would rather please the Lord by my conduct, than men by my dress.” He was more indiscriminate in his charity than Abu Bekr; the first caliph relieved none whose distress had been occasioned by vicious conduct, Omar gave to all who asked. When reproached for making no distinction, he replied, “Man is placed upon the earth, only to do good to his[167] brethren; the judgment of man’s worthiness should be left to his Creator.” The temperance of Omar was as remarkable as his simplicity; his ordinary food was coarse barley bread seasoned with salt, and on days of abstinence the salt was laid aside; his only beverage was water. When at meals, he invited all who chanced to be present, to take a share.

But the splendour of his public works was a strange contrast to the meanness of his private life. We have already mentioned the mosque he caused to be erected in Jerusalem; he also greatly enlarged and beautified that which Mohammed had built in Medina. By his orders, the foundations were laid of cities that rapidly grew to greatness, Old Cairo, Cufa, and Bassora. He caused the canal between the Nile and the Red Sea to be repaired and opened, in order to facilitate the importation of corn into Arabia, which the recent enlargement of the cities had rendered a matter of prime necessity. It was Omar, who first introduced the custom of dating from the Hegira; before his time the Arabians dated from the last great event which had interested the whole nation,—a war, a famine, or a plague,—and thus rendered their chronology a mass of inextricable confusion. To him also is owing the institution of a police force in Mecca and Medina, the establishment of a fund to provide for the pay of the army, and the preparation of an equitable scale of rewards for those who had distinguished themselves in the propagation of Islam. It is no wonder that, with such claims to admiration, the name of Omar should be so celebrated among the most rigid sects of the Mohammedans. But while the Sunnites labour to extend the fame of Omar, his memory is detested by the partisans of Ali; his name is the proverbial expression for all that is base in the countries where the Shiite principles prevail; no person that bears it, dare own it in public; and to such excess do the Persians carry their hatred, that they celebrate the day of Omar’s assassination as a public festival.

Omar, finding death approaching, was at a loss whom to nominate his successor; and, to remedy the difficulty, devised the most extraordinary expedient that can be imagined. He directed that a council of six should be assembled after his death, that three days should be allowed them for deliberation, and that if, at the end of that time, they had not agreed on a new caliph, they should all be slain. The six who met to deliberate under these circumstances, were Ali, cousin and son-in-law of Mohammed, Othman, likewise his son-in-law, Zobair, the cousin of the prophet, and Abd ar-Rahman, Talha, and Saad, his favourite companions. After some deliberation, they elected Othman, and he was installed third caliph.

OTHMAN, THE THIRD CALIPH

Othman was, like his predecessors, a native of Mecca, sprung from a different branch of the same tribe that had given birth to the prophet. He married successively two daughters of Mohammed, long acted as his secretary, and enjoyed his intimate confidence. It is said, that Mohammed was so delighted with the generosity displayed by his secretary, that he exclaimed, “O my God, I am satisfied with Othman, be thou also satisfied with him.” On another occasion, seeing Othman approach, he covered his face with his robe, and said, “Should not I be ashamed before a man whose merits would put angels to the blush?” At the time of his accession, he was more than eighty years of age, but his health was unshaken, and the vigour of his faculties unabated.

[168]

The third caliph pursued the warlike policy of his predecessors; by his orders the Mussulman armies completed the conquest of Persia, and extended the sway of the Saracens to the river Oxus, and the borders of India. Northern Africa, as far as the shores of the Atlantic, was subdued by another army; and a fleet, equipped in the harbours of Egypt and Syria, subdued the island of Cyprus, and menaced the northern coasts of the Mediterranean. But this success produced its natural effect; it required all the energies of Omar’s stern character to resist the progress of luxury and dissipation; the weak Othman was utterly incapable of any similar exertion. The wild sons of the desert began to rival in magnificence the most wealthy monarchs; they became ambitious of palaces and titles, they preferred the splendour of the court, to the glory of the field. Othman’s gentleness and facility accelerated the progress of corruption; naturally generous, he was unwilling to refuse any applicant, and as the foremost candidates for office are generally those least fitted for its duties, the administration fell into the hands of the designing and the profligate. With some show of reason, the old companions of Mohammed complained that they were set aside to make room for the family of Othman; and, with still more justice, that the imprudence and wantonness of youth was preferred to their experience.

Religion did not escape from the general corruption; new sects began to be formed; and the jealousy of the partisans of Ali daily acquired fresh strength. Abu Dar, an old companion of the prophet, misrepresenting some passages of the Koran, declared that the riches of this world were the source of every crime, and that the wealthy should be compelled by force to give their superfluities to the poor. Such doctrine was sure to obtain a favourable hearing in a half-civilised country, where, from the unequal distribution of plunder, a few had been suddenly enriched, but the great bulk of the population reduced to comparative poverty. At the same time another sectary announced that Mohammed was about to reappear, and execute justice on the wicked and cruel men who tyrannised over the Mussulmans. The people, expecting an approaching regeneration, despised their rulers, and neglected the duties of social life. The second revision of the Koran, ordained by Othman, was regarded by many of the Mussulmans as a corruption of the true religion; they suspected that the caliph did not pay sufficient deference to the authority of the prophet; especially as in certain prayers he made four prostrations where Mohammed only used two; and he had rebuilt a chapel destroyed by Mohammed’s special command.

We have been so long accustomed to see the Mohammedan religion united with despotic government, that we are naturally surprised to find a pure democracy under the caliphate; from the very beginning, every affair of importance was submitted to the general assembly; and all, except slaves, were permitted to state their opinions freely. No practical inconvenience arose from this custom, whilst disorder was checked by the sacred character of the prophet, the dignified demeanour of Abu Bekr, or the stern severity of Omar. But Othman possessed no such influence; when he attempted to stem the popular tide, he was attacked in his very pulpit, and driven by volleys of stones from the assembly. Satires and lampoons, “those straws,” which, as Lord Bacon says, “show the direction of the wind,” appeared in countless abundance.

Parties and factions were formed on every side; each province demanded a new governor, every faction desired a new caliph. The leaders in these disturbances were the ancient companions of the prophet; and many of the most devoted Mussulmans were ready to join in a revolution. At length a[169] part of the Egyptian army marched suddenly to Medina and demanded an immediate reform of abuses. By a liberal use of promises and persuasions, they were induced to retire; but it was only to return the following year, irritated by disappointment, and strengthened by large bodies of partisans from Cufa and Bassora. Othman once more soothed the mutineers, but as they were returning home, they learned that the caliph’s secretary had sent official orders that they should be massacred. It is not quite certain that the caliph had sanctioned this perfidy, but that it was meditated does not admit of doubt. The soldiers, justly enraged, again appeared before Medina, demanding the head of the secretary; when that was refused, they slew Othman himself.

The fatal day on which this atrocity occurred was Friday, which the Mohammedans keep holy. It was Othman’s custom on this day to fast until he had read through the entire Koran, and he was engaged in the perusal of the sacred volume, when the approach of the assassins was announced. Some of the caliph’s friends advised him to make some preparations for resistance, but he replied that he had seen Mohammed in a dream, and had been informed that they should break their fast together that day in paradise.

In the meantime, the conspirators advanced sword in hand. Five hundred guards attempted to check their progress, but were cut to pieces; the caliph’s wife threw herself in their path and had her hand cut off; the sons of Ali, and some of the old companions of the prophet, endeavoured to propitiate the mutineers, but were forced to consult their own safety by flight. Othman tranquilly read the Koran in the midst of the confusion; he scarcely deigned to raise his head when the enraged soldiers burst into his apartment. At their head was a son of Abu Bekr, named Muhammed, who seized Othman by the beard, and prepared to strike a fatal blow. The caliph, looking him steadily in the face, asked, “O Muhammed! what think you that your sainted father would say, if he saw my beard in your grasp?” Struck with the words, Muhammed drew back in silence; but his companions, less scrupulous, rushed upon Othman, and he fell covered with wounds. His blood gushed upon the Koran which he held in his hand; it is said to be still preserved as a relic in the mosque of Damascus. So great was the terror diffused by this event, that no one dared to perform the funeral obsequies; the body remained three days unburied; at length Ali gave orders for its sepulture, but it was buried by night, and in a private cemetery.

The orthodox Mussulmans reverence Othman in the present day for the action which excited most resentment in his own, namely, the revision of the Koran. They cite respecting him, the following traditionary saying of the prophet, “I have seen the name of Othman written on the gate of paradise; I have seen it marked behind the throne of God, and on the wings of the archangel Gabriel.” The Shiites regard him as a usurper, but they do not execrate his memory so much as that of Omar.

At first the horror inspired by this murder was so great, that all parties were reduced to silence. The surviving companions of Mohammed took advantage of this interval of tranquillity, and nominated Ali fourth caliph.

Ali was the son of Abu Talib, that uncle of Mohammed who had so faithfully watched over his childhood. He had been the first to acknowledge the divine mission of his cousin, and he ever manifested the most devoted attachment to his person. When Mohammed fled from Mecca, Ali disguised himself in the prophet’s robes, and placed himself on his bed, that the Meccans might not suspect his escape. When he followed his[170] patron to Medina, he married the prophet’s favourite daughter Fatima, by whom he had several children. Mohammed on many occasions showed a strong love for Ali; he appointed him his lieutenant in his first expedition against the Greeks, at Tabuc, and during occasional absence, entrusted to him the government of Medina. It is supposed, on very plausible grounds, that Ali was actually nominated his successor by the prophet, but that Aisha prevented the circumstance from being known. This injustice was deeply felt by the son of Abu Talib and his partisans, but particularly by Mohammed’s relations, who thought themselves neglected by the three first caliphs. In vain, however, did his friends endeavour to persuade Ali to attempt the forcible seizure of the reins of government; he replied constantly, that he would never reign except by the free suffrages of the Mussulmans. During the reign of Omar, his loyalty was so notorious, that he was appointed governor of Arabia during the caliph’s absence at Jerusalem; he refused to join those who conspired against Othman, and one of his sons was severely wounded in defence of that sovereign. Finally, when elected, he very reluctantly consented to accept the dignity of caliph, which had twice already proved fatal to its possessors.

ALI (656-661 A.D.)

Ali commenced his reign by deposing all the governors of the provinces. Amongst these were several men of great influence; especially Moawiyah the son of that Abu Sufyan, who had been long the chief of the Meccan idolaters, and the most bitter enemy of Mohammed. After Mecca had submitted, Mohammed made Moawiyah one of his private secretaries; the caliph Omar had raised him to the government of Syria, and he had now ruled that important province during fifteen years. Crafty, subtle, intriguing, possessing inflexible obstinacy, and boundless ambition, he received Ali’s mandate for his deposition with violent indignation. As he was a near relative of Othman, he resolved to declare himself his avenger, and though that sovereign had left children, Moawiyah claimed to be his heir and successor. He found allies in the centre of Arabia; and while the Syrians were preparing to take arms, Aisha, with a numerous body of followers, was already in the field. Though she had notoriously shared in the conspiracy against Othman, she now proclaimed herself his avenger, and she denounced Ali as the author of his death.

Joined with her were Talha and Zobair, two of Mohammed’s old companions, who well knew the falsehood of Aisha’s allegations. They had been the foremost to swear allegiance to Ali, but not having obtained all that they desired, they ranged themselves in the ranks of the rebels, to whom their presence gave additional confidence. The obligation of their oaths they evaded by the expiatory offerings prescribed in the fifth chapter of the Koran, which is one of the greatest blots on the character both of the book and its author.

Aisha, contrary to the established custom of Arabia, led her forces in person, mounted on a strong camel, and protected by an escort of picked men. When she approached a small village named Jowab, all the dogs in the place rushed out and barked at her with great fury. This she regarded as an evil omen, and declared that Mohammed had told her, “One of my wives, engaged in an evil design, shall be attacked by dogs in Jowab; take care that you be not the wicked person.” Full of alarm, she wished to[171] return; but Zobair and Talha, knowing how important was her presence, suborned fifty false witnesses to swear that the village was never known by the name of Jowab. As she still seemed anxious to depart, they spread a report, that the army of Ali had gained a position in their rear, and consequently that she could not return in safety. “This,” say the Moslem historians, “was the first public lie told since the promulgation of Islam.”

The two armies met at Khoraiba, a place in the neighbourhood of Bassora; Ali’s forces amounted to twenty thousand men, all picked soldiers, those of Aisha were more numerous, but they were, for the most part, raw and undisciplined levies. After a brief contest, the rebels were routed; Talha fell wounded mortally from his horse, and with his dying breath besought pardon from God for his share in the murder of Othman and his treachery to Ali. When told of this, the generous conqueror exclaimed that God had granted Talha time for repentance before receiving his soul into heaven. Zobair escaped from the battle, but was overtaken on the road to Mecca by his pursuers, who cut off his head, and brought it as an acceptable present to the caliph. Ali expressed so much indignation at the sight, that the bearers assailed him with bitter reproaches, saying, “You are the evil genius of the Mussulmans; you consign to hell those who deliver you from your enemies, and you name those who attack your men companions of Satan.” The victory, however, could not be regarded as complete until Aisha had been forced to submission; the strictest orders were given to respect her person, but also it was desired that no pains should be spared to make her prisoner. Seventy men had their hands cut off attempting to seize her camel by the bridle; the pavilion in which she sat, was stuck so full of arrows that it resembled a porcupine; at length a soldier cut the back sinew of the camel, the animal fell helpless on his knees, and Aisha remained a captive. Muhammed, the son of Abu Bekr, was sent to take charge of her; she loaded him with the fiercest invectives, but he did not make any reply. When she was brought before Ali, he received her in the most courteous manner, recommended her to forbear from meddling with public affairs for the future, and sent her under a faithful escort to Medina. Thus ended the first great battle between the opponents and the partisans of Ali; it is frequently called by eastern writers “the battle of the camel” from the animal on which Aisha rode; it was the prelude to many and fearful scenes of slaughter.

The rebellion in Syria next engaged the attention of Ali; Moawiyah had not only rejected his offers of accommodation, but denied his title to the caliphate: in order to justify this rebellion, and strike the eyes of the multitude, Moawiyah procured the bloody robe in which Othman was murdered, and caused it to be borne in solemn procession through the streets of Damascus. This sight so powerfully inflamed the popular passions, that though it was then the middle of summer, more than thirty thousand persons bound themselves by a solemn oath, not to taste fresh water, until they had avenged the death of Othman. Among the leading partisans of the Syrian governor was Amru, the conqueror of Egypt, who seemed to share the general excitement, though well aware that Ali was innocent of the imputed crimes.

The hostile forces met in the plains of Siffin, on the western bank of the Euphrates, not far from the city of Racca. Neither leader was prepared for general action, and ninety days were wasted in desultory skirmishes between divisions. His impetuous valour gave Ali the victory in most of these encounters; he challenged his rival to decide the dispute by single[172] combat; but Moawiyah would not venture to enter the lists. The last action at Siffin continued all night, to the great disadvantage of the Syrians; they would have been driven from their very entrenchments, had not the crafty Moawiyah made an appeal to the superstitious feelings of Ali’s followers. He ordered some of his men to place copies of the Koran on the points of their lances, and advancing to the front of the lines, exclaim, “This is the book that ought to decide all differences between us; this is the word of God, and the code of our faith; it expressly forbids the shedding of Moslem blood.” Coarse as was the artifice, it had the most complete success; the troops of Irak, the flower of the caliph’s forces, threw down their arms, and clamorously demanded that a negotiation should be commenced. In vain did Ali command them to continue the fight, assuring them that Moawiyah disregarded the Koran, and was equally the enemy of God and man; the soldiers clamorously replied that they would not fight against the book of God, and threatened the caliph with the well-known fate of Othman.

From the moment that he was checked in the midst of victory, Ali seems to have despaired of the issue of the contest; when required to name an arbitrator, he coldly answered, “He that is not at liberty, cannot give his advice; you must now conduct the affair as you think proper.” His soldiers took him at his word, and nominated on the part of the caliph, Abu Musa, whose chief merit was, that he had written a faulty copy of the Koran, and whose fidelity had been long more than suspected. Moawiyah appointed a much more subtle negotiator, Amru, universally regarded as the most able statesman of the period. The arbitrators were enjoined to decide the dispute according to the Koran and the traditions of the prophet, and to pronounce judgment in the next month of Ramadhan.

Amru persuaded Abu Musa, that the best plan that could be adopted, was to declare the throne vacant, and proceed to a new election. When the day for giving judgment arrived, Abu Musa, as had been agreed, first ascended the pulpit, and with a loud voice pronounced the following words; “I depose both Ali and Moawiyah from the caliphate, in the same manner that I draw this ring from my finger.” Amru next ascended, and said, “You have heard Abu Musa pronounce the deposition of Ali: I confirm it; and I invest Moawiyah with the supreme authority in the same manner that I now draw this ring upon my finger. I hail him as the legal successor of Othman, the avenger of his blood, and the most worthy of the Moslems to command the faithful.”

This unexpected declaration created a violent tumult. Abu Musa accused Amru of breach of faith, called him a wretch, a dog, an unclean beast, and imprecated on his grave all nameless desecrations; Amru replied, that his co-arbitrator was a learned blockhead, a jackass loaded with books, and the grandfather of stupidity; at the same time, he stoutly maintained his sentence.

This event was fatal to the cause of Ali; his soldiers, who had forced him to commence the imprudent negotiation, felt that their fidelity must for the future be suspected, and began to desert in whole battalions. The new and formidable sect of the Kharijites, that is, “the deserters,” appeared in the midst of Arabia, declaring that both the rivals had forfeited their right to reign, by submitting to human judgment what God alone should determine. It was necessary to march a large army against these fanatics, and the time which Ali wasted in their subjugation, was employed by Moawiyah in new conquests. It would be difficult to form an idea of the vindictive rage which filled all parties at this period.

[173]

We have already mentioned the view taken of affairs, by the fanatical Kharijites. Three of this sect happened to meet at Mecca, and after some discourse agreed that if the three chief causes of discontent were removed, namely, Ali, Moawiyah, and Amru, the affairs of the Mussulmans would soon be restored to their ancient flourishing condition. Finally, they resolved to devote themselves for the common advantage, and agreed, that on a stated day, one should slay Ali at Cufa; another, Moawiyah at Damascus; and the third, Amru in Egypt. The attempt was made; Amru on that day did not appear in public; Moawiyah escaped with a few slight wounds; Ali alone received a mortal stroke.

The respect which the Shiites have for the memory of Ali, borders on idolatry. All the Mussulmans, however, now join in commiserating his calamities, and blaming the violence of which he was the victim. Every time that they pronounce his name, they accompany it with the benediction, “May God render his face glorious.”

From the contest between Ali and Moawiyah, the first of the Omayyad caliphs, arose the distinction of the Mohammedans into Sunnites and Shiites. The chief points at issue between them, are the following; (1) The Shiites, or as they call themselves, the Adalians, or “lovers of justice,” assert that the three first caliphs were usurpers; the Sunnites declare that they were legitimate monarchs, elected according to the sunna, or traditional law of the prophet. (2) The Shiites regard Ali as the equal of Mohammed; some even assert his superiority, but the Sunnites deny that he possessed any special dignity. (3) The Shiites assert that the Koran is made void by the authority attributed to tradition; the Sunnites say that tradition is necessary to complete and explain the doctrines of the Koran.

The Turks, Egyptians, and Arabs belong to the Sunnite sect; the tenets of the Shiites are professed by the Persians, a great portion of the Tatars, and several of the Mohammedan princes in India.

Ali was buried at Cufa, but the exact place of his sepulchre cannot be determined. A magnificent mosque has been erected in the neighbourhood of the city, which is called Meshed-Ali, the place of Ali’s martyrdom; it is, to this day, a favourite object of pilgrimage to devout Mussulmans.f

So, after a most turbulent and unhappy caliphate, Ali died of his wound, in the sixty-third year of his age, and the fifth of his reign, 661 A.D., and the thirty-eighth year of the Hegira; making the third caliph slain within twenty years by the hand of an assassin.

Ali was an upright and honourable man, a patron of literature and the fine arts, and himself a poet. He certainly merited better treatment at the hands of his own subjects, having been a just judge, and a kind and paternal governor; oftener forgiving than punishing the misdeeds of those who were so frequently conspiring against his life and interests. His lineal descendants are sheriffs and emirs; permitted to wear their turbans and hair in a peculiar fashion, differing from the usages of all other Moslems.

Ali left two sons, Hassan and Hosein. Hassan was in his thirty-fifth year when he succeeded his father, as the fifth caliph of the Moslems. The people chose Hassan without opposition, owing to his having been a favourite of his grandfather, the prophet; whom also he is said to have resembled in features. Moreover, he was a benevolent, upright, and devout man; but he grievously lacked the energy so indispensable for a ruler in troubled times. The new caliph would willingly have disbanded the army ready to march upon Syria; for he was no lover of warfare, and would rather have forfeited the Syrian provinces than mixed in battle.

[174]

His brother Hosein, however, was a warrior; and so were many of the veteran generals who had sworn allegiance to his father, and whose plans he was therefore compelled to follow up. He accordingly marched upon Syria; sending forward twelve thousand light troops, under Kais, to check the progress of Moawiyah, who was advancing to meet Hassan’s army. Kais succeeded in repelling the Syrians; and secured a position, where he might await the arrival of the main body of the army, which, however, never reached its destination. The troops of Hassan were chiefly from Irak, and not inclined to enter upon the campaign; moreover, they knew him to be an inefficient commander. A revolt broke out amongst the soldiery, in which Hassan was wounded. This occurred at Madain, and the caliph was compelled to seek refuge with the governor in the citadel. He ultimately sent proposals to Moawiyah, offering to abdicate in his favour, under certain stipulations, to which Moawiyah readily agreed. So, to the great indignation of Hosein, Hassan abdicated; and eventually the two brothers settled in Medina, where Moawiyah supplied them liberally with funds.

This act doubtless saved a good deal of bloodshed; and, in the thirty-ninth year of the Hegira, the sixth caliph, Moawiyah I, began to reign. His first act was to almost exterminate the sect of Seceders; a people even more dangerous than the modern Janissaries, and against whom the caliph Moawiyah had deep hatred, owing to the stab he had received in Damascus.t

FOOTNOTES

---

[175]

CHAPTER VI. THE OMAYYADS

FOUNDATION OF THE OMAYYADS

With Moawiyah commenced the dynasty of the house of Omayyah, called the “Omayyads.” This caliph is said to have patronised literature; and during his reign many of the Greek sciences were first introduced into Arabia. Moawiyah succeeded in re-establishing peace in his dominions. One of his earliest appointments was the reinstatement of Amru in the government of Egypt; allotting him, in grateful recognition of his services, the whole revenue of that wealthy country for his life-time; but Amru was advanced in years, and only enjoyed his preferment for a short time, dying in 663.

Moawiyah now turned his thoughts to foreign conquest; hoping to leave an illustrious name, together with the royal succession, to his son Yazid. Accordingly he sent him, at the head of a powerful force, to subdue that famous capital, which was destined in later years to become, as it now remains, the headquarters of Islamism and the seat of the Moslem rulers.

Great preparations were afoot, and the troops were despatched both by land and sea to attack Constantinople. The Greek power was on the decline; their emperor, a grandson of Heraclius, indolent and unfitted for his high office; and the Moslems entertained sanguine hopes of success. Their fleet passed the Dardanelles, and the army landed within seven miles of Constantinople. The besieged had fortified the place, and repulsed the assault with the Greek fire—a new and terrible agent of destruction to the Moslems, who, after ravaging the neighbouring coasts, wintered about eight miles from Constantinople, at the island of Cyzicus. Through six long years they strove, but in vain; countless lives were lost, ships wrecked, and vast sums of money expended. Long practice and the necessary energy, revived in the Greeks a few sparks of that military ardour which had for years been slumbering. They even sallied forth and attacked the Moslems; punishing them so severely, that Moawiyah, now an old man, was glad to obtain a truce for thirty years, paying the emperor annually three thousand[176] pieces of gold, fifty slaves, and fifty Arabian horses. Yazid is accused of having instigated the murder of the mild and virtuous Hassan, who had abdicated in his father’s favour, but who had stipulated to resume the caliphate after Moawiyah’s death. This act, which secured his own succession, was perpetrated in the year forty-seven of the Hegira, 669 A.D.

Moawiyah sent Achbar ben Nafi al-Fahri, a competent general, to follow up the conquests so triumphantly commenced in Africa by Abdallah ben Saad. This man proceeded from Damascus with ten thousand horse, making good speed towards Africa; and, his force rapidly augmenting by the accession of barbarian troops, he retook the city of Cyrene; but during the siege many of its magnificent edifices were destroyed. Continuing westward, he traversed desolate wilds and jungles, and passed through places infested with lions, tigers, and serpents, until he beheld the domains of ancient Carthage, the present Tunisian provinces. Here he founded a stronghold—a kind of vast caravansary, where stores might be accumulated, and whose thick and lofty walls might prove a safeguard in case of defeat. This place eventually gave origin to the city called Carwahn, or Kairwan—literally signifying a lodgment for travellers and beasts.

Meanwhile Aisha, who had caused so much discord and bloodshed, had, in the fifty-sixth year of the Hegira, numbered her years upon earth. One of her last acts of vengeance was the refusing sepulture to the body of Hassan, who had expressed a wish in his testament to be buried by the side of his grandsire, Mohammed, insisting that the mansion was hers, and carrying her malice even beyond the grave, so that Hassan was interred in the ordinary burial-ground.

The sand of Moawiyah’s life was now rapidly running out. He was anxious, ere death, to render the caliphate hereditary, and to perpetuate it in his line. Accordingly he publicly named his son Yazid as his successor, and commanded the provinces to send deputies to do fealty to him. This was more than Mohammed himself or any of his successors had ventured to require. The delegates arrived from all parts to Damascus, and gave their hands to Yazid, in pledge of fealty; thus establishing the dynasty of Omayyah, which extended over nearly a hundred years. Fourteen of them were designated the Pharaohs of that line. With Moawiyah were introduced the luxury and splendour, so linked with all our notions of oriental pomp and proverbially designated the insignia of a caliphate, which had succeeded to the stern and frugal simplicity of the early Islams. The waters and the gardens of Damascus were irresistible persuasions to indolence—that peculiar luxury, known among the Orientals by the term kaif, and in the West by the expressive Italian phrase, dolce far niente. The seat of the caliphate was fixed at Damascus; for neither Medina nor Cufa was now considered a fit residence for the Moslem caliphs. Moawiyah, having provided for his son, gave up the ghost in 680 A.D.

YAZID MADE CALIPH

Yazid, then in his thirty-fourth year, was proclaimed caliph—a man who is said to have been gifted with talents, but addicted to every debasing vice, delighting in splendid attire, passionately fond of music and poetry, and much given to indulge in the indolent kaif; all these the result of long residence in the delightful but enervating climate of Damascus. But whilst the seventh caliph was idly spending his hours and days, the brave[177] general Achbar had returned to his command in Africa, to pursue his career of conquest. He traversed Numidia (Algiers), the extensive countries of Morocco, and the ancient Mauretania, subduing and converting the inhabitants, till, arriving at the western shores of Africa, the waters of the Atlantic opposed his farther progress. Here, spurring his steed up to the saddle-girths in the surge, he is said to have elevated his scimitar towards heaven, exclaiming, “Did not these waters present an insuperable barrier, I would carry the faith and the law of the faithful to countries reaching from the rising of the sun to the setting thereof.”

But soon after this tidings reached Achbar that a rebellion had broken out in his rear. He had overdone his task, and had now to pay dearly for the temerity which the sagacious Omar had so often and so carefully repressed amongst his generals. As he marched through Numidia, he was much harassed by a band of mountaineers, who would never let themselves be entangled in a pitched battle; but descending from their fastnesses, cut off the stragglers, and carried havoc into the broken ranks. Achbar saw that destruction was inevitable; and accordingly liberated his rival and prisoner, Muhegir, telling him, that this was a day of martyrdom, and consequently, liberty for them all; and that he would not therefore deprive him of earning for himself the paradise of the faithful. The little Islam band was literally cut to pieces; and the body of Achbar was found upon a heap of slain, his broken scimitar still grasped by his lifeless hand.

During these events in Africa Yazid was endeavouring to secure undisputed possession of the caliphate. The only two whom he feared as competitors were Hosein and Abdallah, the sons of Ali and Zobair, who were both residing at Medina. Yazid wrote from Damascus to the governor of Medina, directing him to require from them the oath of fealty; but they, learning that their lives would be in peril through the intrigues of the governor and of Merwan ben Hakem, the villainous ex-secretary of Othman, fled with their families to Mecca, where they openly opposed Yazid.

SIEGE OF MECCA

Hosein was slain, and his family sent captives to Damascus, where they were well treated by Yazid; who sent them under careful convoy to Medina. The anniversary of the martyrdom of Hosein is kept with great solemnity in Persia and Media; and in after years a splendid mausoleum was erected on the spot where he fell, called by the Arabs the “Meshed Hosein” (the sepulchre of Hosein). The death of Hosein furnished his friend and survivor, Abdallah the son of Zobair, with a fresh claim to the caliphate, and a subject, capable, in his able hands, of being well turned to account in working upon the feelings and faith of the Islams. He was soon proclaimed caliph by the house of Hashem, possessing at the same time a majority in his favour at Mecca and Medina.

Open rebellion broke out, and Yazid with difficulty found one infirm old general to espouse his cause. The veteran Muslim quitted Damascus with twelve thousand horse and five thousand foot. Arriving at Medina, he found the place securely entrenched and fortified. On the fourth day the city was stormed, and compelled to surrender. Ali, the son of Hosein, and the partisans and household of Omayyah, were despatched under careful escort to Damascus, and then the place was given up to three days’ pillage. In the sixtieth year of the Hegira, 683 A.D., Muslim, whose memory is execrated[178] by all devout Moslems, died on his march to Mecca; and the command was assumed by Hosein ben Numair, a Syrian by birth. This general besieged Mecca for forty days; and just as the inhabitants feared to share the same fate as the people of Medina, news arrived that Yazid had expired at Hawwarin, in the thirty-ninth year of his age, 684 A.D. This event changed the fortunes of war. Numair offered allegiance to Abdallah; but this latter, fearing treachery, simply permitted the Syrian general and his troops, without arms, to march in procession round the ruins of the Kaaba, which had been destroyed during the siege by fire. Part of the family of Omayyah, then at Mecca, accompanied the Syrians on their return to Damascus.

All the sectarians of Ali hold the memory of Yazid in abhorrence, as the instigator of the murder of the two brothers, Hassan and Hosein; and charge him with sacrilege, in ordering the sack of Medina and Mecca.

Moawiyah II, son of Yazid, was proclaimed at Damascus eighth caliph of the Moslem empire, being the third of the house of Omayyah, a man feeble in mind and body, and one of the sect of Kadarii, maintaining the free will of men against the dictates of wiser counsels and better conscience. This second Moawiyah was in his twenty-first year when he reluctantly assumed the caliphate; for his health was so bad, that he was compelled (most probably from weak eyes) to shut himself up in darkened apartments, whence the Arabs named him Abu Laili—the Father of Night. His chief counsellor was one Omar Aheksus, who is said to have counselled him to abdicate, after a short sway of six months’ duration; for which advice the Omayyads buried the unfortunate man alive. This youthful caliph refused to nominate a successor, declaring that his grandfather had been a usurper, his father unworthy of so high a trust, and himself unwilling and unfit to undertake it. Soon after his abdication he died, the wreck of a diseased frame and morbid temperament.

Again was Syria rent with civil discord. The people of Damascus favouring the claims of Merwan, the secretary, as regent during the minority of Khalid, Yazid’s son; whilst Egypt, Babylonia, Arabia, Khorasan, Medina, and Mecca acknowledged Abdallah ben Zobair as caliph. Meanwhile, Obaidah ben Zehad, the same that had caused Hosein to be slain, thought the present an auspicious moment to secure for himself an independence. After many fatigues he arrived at Damascus, in time to take an active part in the election of Merwan as caliph, while Bassora declared its allegiance to Abdallah. The claims of the former were admitted only in Syria, and there were even there two factions. A conflict ensued between the two factions; and the victory sided with Merwan, who was proclaimed caliph and obliged to marry the mother of Khalid, Yazid’s wife.

Merwan speedily marched against Egypt, but twice returned; and again twice faced about, tidings having reached him about the prowess of his lieutenant, another Amru, who ultimately subjugated Egypt. The people of Khorasan refused to acknowledge either caliph; they appointed Selim, a younger brother of Obaid Allah, to act as regent, till affairs should be finally settled. The fickle people of Cufa seemed to awaken from a prolonged lethargy, and declared in favour of the descendants of Ali; only, however, the next day to repudiate them. Four thousand men, under an aged general, did absolutely start on a fanatical expedition to destroy both claimants to the caliphate and their adherents; and so, rushing upon their fate, they were all slain.

Meanwhile, the fate of the heroic Achbar on the plains of Numidia was known at Damascus and Medina. At this time reinforcements arrived from[179] Egypt, which helped to revive the courage of the Moslems. This only endured for a while; a large force from Constantinople, under experienced generals, landed on the coast of Africa. The Egyptians deserted their standard, Kairwan was vanquished, and the Moslems compelled to fall back upon Barca. Abdul-Malik, the eldest son of Merwan, marched to the succour of the discomfited Islam general; and the two forces combined marched upon Kairwan, defeating the enemy in every action, and finally replanted the standard of Islam in Kairwan. After this Abdul-Malik returned to Damascus, where Merwan, having caused him to be proclaimed as his successor, died after a reign of about eleven months, in the sixty-second year of the Hegira, 685 A.D.

ABDUL-MALIK, CALIPH (685-705 A.D.)

Abdul-Malik, the eleventh caliph, was proclaimed and acknowledged in Syria, Egypt, and Africa. He was in the prime of life when he succeeded to the musnud; full of enterprise, and distinguished as an able general and an accomplished scholar; but so avaricious that he was surnamed by the Arabs Kafhol Hagha, signifying in our vernacular, “skinflint.” Abdallah ben Zobair was still acknowledged caliph of a great part of the Moslem dominions; holding the seat of government at Mecca, which gave him great influence over the troops of pilgrims, that even at that early period annually resorted to the Kaaba. Abdul-Malik, jealous of this, established a rival city of pilgrimage; fixing for this purpose on Al-Kudus (Jerusalem), sacred in the eyes of Moslems, as the field connected with the acts and revelations of Jesus Christ and of Moses (both of whom they acknowledge and reverence as prophets), as well as the stage whereon Mohammed pretended to have made his miraculous ascent to heaven; besides all this, the place was surrounded by the tombs of the patriarchs. The temple at Jerusalem, where Omar had prayed upon the steps, was converted into a mosque; and it was enlarged so as to enclose these steps, and the stone called Jacob’s stone on which the patriarch is said to have slumbered during his inspired dream. This was kissed by Moslem pilgrims, as they had heretofore kissed the Black Stone of the Kaaba. During the caliphate of Abdul-Malik there was a fierce warrior, a son of Abu Obaidah, who was named Al-Mukhtar (or the Avenger), because he undertook to avenge the death of Hosein. With almost insuperable difficulties to contend against, he accomplished his vow; being mortally wounded, and his small but sturdy band of seven hundred followers cut down to a man. His death enabled Musa ben Zobair, a brother of the caliph Abdallah, to govern Babylonia and Cufa. He was at this period a comely man in the thirty-sixth year of his life, and in all points well adapted to gain the esteem and love of the people.

Abdul-Malik hearing of his success invaded Babylonia himself; heading his army, and leaving his cousin Amru, who had been Merwan’s lieutenant in Egypt, to govern Syria during his absence. The kinsmen deeply hated each other; and the caliph had barely turned his back before Amru aspired to the caliphate. Abdul-Malik hearing this, hastened back; and a deadly conflict ensued between the two cousins and their adherents in the streets of Damascus. The women are said to have rushed between the combatants, holding up their children and imploring both sides to desist from so unnatural a combat. Amru laid down his arms, and articles of reconciliation were signed. The caliph broke his faith; and, getting his cousin into his power, he struck off his head with his own scimitar; then, banishing his family,[180] he put all who had sided with Amru to death. On the departure of the exiles the caliph demanded the written contract of Amru’s widow, who replied that she had folded it in his winding sheet, to be produced at the day of judgment.

Abdul-Malik now resumed his march to Babylonia, having sent trusty messengers before him to tamper with the fealty of Abdallah’s subjects. A battle took place near Tadmor (Palmyra), and the caliph possessed himself of Babylonia and Persian Irak. Abdul-Malik appointed his brother Besher ben Merwan governor of Babylonia; naming Musa ben Nosair, who had long enjoyed his father’s confidence, as vizir to the youthful governor. This man we shall find hereafter figuring as a noted character in the pages of Islam conquest. The caliph intrusted Musa with the military rolls of the province, holding him responsible; and the young governor confided to him the seal of office, intrusting to him the entire direction of the government. Having made all these arrangements, Abdul-Malik returned to Damascus. He was now undisputed sovereign of all the eastern part of the Moslem dominions, and further secured peace in other quarters by a shameful augmentation of tribute to the Christian emperor; but he did all this to enable him the better to carry out his scheme of attacking Abdallah, and bearding him in his very den at Mecca.

SIEGE OF MECCA

Hajjaj ben Yusuf, appointed to command the expedition to Mecca, was joined by five thousand troops under Tarik ben Amru. The former general is celebrated in Moslem history as the ablest and most eloquent man of his day. Free pardon and protection were proclaimed to all who would join the standard of these generals. Abdallah sent troops to check their progress,[181] but his precaution was unavailing. Hajjaj arrived at the city gates. Before commencing the assault, arrows, whereto proclamations and letters for the inhabitants were attached, were discharged over the walls, warning the inhabitants to desert Abdallah, who was so obstinate as to resist to the last, though their sacred city should crumble into ruins. The city was assailed with battering-rams, whilst flaming balls of pitch and naphtha were thrown over the walls and set fire to the houses.

Abdallah, though old and infirm, held out bravely against the besiegers. It is said that his mother displayed wonderful energy and courage during the siege, she being a granddaughter of Abu Bekr; ten thousand are said to have deserted to the camp of Hajjaj, and many supporters of Abdallah were slain. In this forlorn plight he was offered his own conditions of surrender; but, consulting his mother as usual, she reminded him that his father Zobair had died for the same cause, and advised him not to bend to the yoke of the line of Omayyah; saying that it were better to die honourably than live dishonoured for the few years that yet remained for him. Finally, after prodigies of valour, the poor old man was struck down by a brick, which hastened his death; and he sank exhausted, fighting to the last, dying, after a disastrous nine years’ reign, in the seventy-second year of his age and the seventieth year of the Hegira; so that in those climates, where girls are frequently mothers at fourteen and fifteen, the aged mother of Abdallah, who aided in the fight to the last, must have passed her eighty-sixth year. She died in a few hours after hearing of her son’s gallant conduct and death. Thus ended the rival caliphate.

The oath of fealty was administered to all the Arabs of those districts. Hajjaj remained governor of Mecca and Medina, as notorious for his cruelty as he was renowned for his valour.

In the year seventy-three of the Hegira peace was again restored throughout the Moslem dominions, which were now united, under the caliphdom of Abdul-Malik; and this caliph, being freed from the bonds of civil discord, now turned his thoughts to foreign conquest, hoping to revive in his name the early triumphs of Islam. First, he threw off the tribute to the Greek emperor, which, originating in the reign of Moawiyah I at 3000 dinars of gold annually, had now augmented to the yearly sum of 365,000. The Christian emperor Leontius had made himself unpopular; and the caliph, availing himself of the troubled state of his affairs, sent Ibn Walid on a depredatory expedition. Ibn Walid returned with much booty; and Lazuca and Baruncium were taken by the Moslems, through the treachery of Sergius, one of the Greek emperor’s generals. During the civil wars in the Moslem empire the Christians had retaken most of their African possessions, slaying Zohair, the commander of Barca; so that it was only in the interior that the Moslems yet held any strong positions. The caliph determined to recover all these. In the seventy-fourth year of the Hegira, Hassan ben Nohman was sent, with forty thousand picked men, to subjugate the northern coasts of Africa; and proceeded to Carthage, of which he after a time made himself master. Most of the inhabitants fell by the sword, but some escaped by sea to Sicily and Spain. The walls were demolished, the city given up to plunder, and several beautiful females were taken captives. But while rejoicing over their late victories, a fleet suddenly appeared in the offing, bringing troops from Constantinople and Sicily, reinforced by Goths from Spain; the expedition being under the command of the prefect John, an experienced and valiant soldier.

The Arab commander, finding himself unable to contend against overwhelming numbers, retired to Kairwan, where the Islams fortified themselves,[182] patiently awaiting the reinforcements, which in due time arrived. With their combined forces the Moslems routed John and his adherents, besieged Carthage, and razed that noble city to the ground, giving the place up to flames. The imperial troops were rapidly expelled from the coast of Africa. But the Moslems had a formidable enemy to contend with in Kahina the sorceress, the mother of that Ibn Kahina who had so harassed the troops of the noble and gallant Achbar. Under this pseudo-prophetess and queen the Moors and Berbers made a valiant stand, and after several engagements Hassan was compelled to fall back upon the frontiers of Egypt. On this, Kahina is said to have addressed her troops, suggesting that they should lay waste the cities and countries intervening between her own possessions and the land of Egypt, saying that the wealth and the fruitfulness of these parts were the inducements which led these Islams continually to disturb their quiet and predicting that they would be sure, so long as these existed, to return again in greater numbers.

Her suggestion was immediately acted upon. Cities and towns were razed to the ground; fruit trees cut down; fields desolated with fire; and the whole aspect of the country, from Tangiers to Tripoli, converted, from being one extensive garden, into a hideous waste, with not a tree standing to shelter a wayfarer from the sun. But the inhabitants of the plains, who were great sufferers by this extreme measure, hailed the return of the Moslems. Kahina was again in the field. This time her ranks were thinned by desertion, and she was taken prisoner and beheaded. Hassan returned, laden with booty, to Damascus, where he was received with honour, and made governor of Barca, still retaining the military command of the provinces in Africa. Hassan, however, fell a victim to his honours; for the caliph’s brother, then viceroy of Egypt, offended that his own lieutenant should be superseded in Barca, waylaid Hassan and deprived him of his appointment, keeping him so closely guarded that he died of a broken heart. Abdul-Aziz ben Merwan, the caliph’s brother, named Musa ben Nosair to the command in northern Africa. Musa was sixty years old, but still hale and vigorous. He was accompanied by his three sons.

Musa joined the army in Africa, and told the soldiers that he was one of themselves; if they found him act well, to thank God and endeavour to imitate him; if wrong, to reprove, and show him his error; and if any among them had to complain, let them speak out like men. “Finally,” said he, “I have instructions from the caliph to pay you three times the amount of arrears due”: and if anything made the cheers of the soldiers more hearty, it was this winding up to his speech. A sparrow is said to have fluttered into his bosom whilst he was speaking, which Musa interpreted into a favourable omen, crying “Victory, by the master of the Kaaba; the victory is ours;” at the same time scattering the feathers of the poor bird into the air.

Musa was liberal, and quite divested of pride—points that endeared him to the Moslem soldiers. On first arriving he had to contend with a Berber chief, Warkastaf, who headed a mountain horde that committed depredations between Zaghwar and Kairwan; him he eventually killed, and his sons, Abdul-Aziz and Merwan, scattered the mountaineers and made them retreat beyond the borders of the southern desert. Musa sent his patron a large share of the spoils which had been taken in Africa; and these chanced to arrive in Egypt at the very moment that Abdul-Aziz, the viceroy, was at his wits’ end how to appease the wrath of his brother the caliph. The caliph, who was an avaricious man, immediately decided in Musa’s favour; and[183] confirmed his brother’s appointment; making Musa emir of Africa. It was in the seventy-fifth year of the Hegira that Musa was confirmed in his post; and in the eightieth he fought the severest contest of his African campaign, defeating strong hordes of the barbarians in their own fastnesses amongst the defiles of Mount Atlas.

At last the two armies came to a pitched battle, when a Berber chief challenged any Moslem champion to single combat. There being some delay in answering this challenge, Merwan, the son of Musa, was deputed to undertake the conflict; when, though very inferior in size and strength, he slew both horse and rider, thrusting his javelin through them both. Kasleyah the king of the Berbers was slain, and the victory completed; and Merwan espoused the daughter of the deceased king, having by her two sons.

But Musa, not satisfied with triumphs by land, longed to launch out upon the seas. The caliph had ordered his predecessors to erect an arsenal at Tunis; and Musa undertook to carry out this project, building dockyards and a fleet to carry out his proposed enterprise. Many people opposed this scheme, even as their descendants the modern Arabs set their face against any improvements, as innovations which were not practised by their ancestors before them. One old Berber advised him to persevere; and he followed the advice to such purpose that, by the end of the year eighty-one of the Hegira, 701 A.D., the arsenal and dockyard were completed, and a strong fleet rode at anchor in the port of Tunis. About this time, a fleet sent by Abdul-Aziz took the island of Lampedusa, capturing immense booty; with which his ships were returning heavily laden, when a mighty tempest arose; the fleet was driven upon the rocky coast of Africa, and nearly all hands perished.

Early in the eighty-second year of the Hegira, Musa embarked with a thousand volunteers, chosen from the bravest amongst his followers, upon his first naval expedition; but when the fleet was ready to set sail, much to the disappointment of those whom he had enlisted, he disembarked and handed over the command to his third and yet untried son, Abdallah. He returned laden with spoil; so much so that each of his followers laid claim to one thousand dinars of gold as his share in the booty. This expedition was the terrible Algerine scourge in embryo, which in after years carried death and devastation wherever the black flag waved triumphant. These vessels returned to port about the same time when tidings reached Musa of the death of the caliph Abdul-Malik, which occurred in the eighty-sixth year of the Hegira, 705 A.D., in the sixtieth year of his age and twentieth of his reign. His son Walid was immediately proclaimed twelfth caliph or successor of the prophet at Damascus; and Musa, immediately transmitting the caliph’s due of the immense booty brought home by the late marine expedition from Tunis, at once obtained his own confirmation in his post as governor or emir of northern Africa, while the interests of his sons were proportionately advanced.

Walid was an idle and voluptuous man; he intrusted the government of his vast dominions entirely to the emirs appointed by his father, while he himself, hating to be troubled with the affairs of state, lived almost secluded from the world within the precincts of his extensive harem, where he had no less than sixty-three wives and yet died without leaving any issue. His reign is only distinguishable for the vast improvements he introduced in the architectural style of the East. His enervated life secluded him from the well-won and well-worn laurels which had secured for his ancestors a home and a name. One of his fourteen brothers, Maslama, invaded Asia Minor, marching on Cappadocia, and besieging the city of Tyana strongly garrisoned[184] by Christians. Finally, Tyana was won; and while Maslama extended his conquests, his son was spreading the faith of Islam in the East.

In the early part of Walid’s caliphate the fleets of Musa continued to be the scourge of the western parts of the Mediterranean. Some vessels proceeded to Sicily, some to Sardinia; Syracuse was plundered; and hundreds of beautiful women were borne away by these corsairs and sold to adorn the harems of the wealthier Moslems. Abdallah also made a successful descent upon Majorca, whilst Musa and his eldest sons triumphed over Fez, Daguella, Morocco, and Sus; the valiant tribes of the Zeuetes capitulated, till finally the caliph Walid was acknowledged throughout Almagreb to Cape Nov on the Atlantic; and there remained only Tingitania, the northern extremity of Almagreb, to be subdued.

While the two vast continents of Europe and Africa were divided by the Straits of Hercules, Ceuta and Tangiers were the rocky defences of this narrow passage on the African side; there remained but the opposite stronghold of Gibraltar to secure the key to the Mediterranean; and beyond this, in the haze of distance, Musa shaded his eyes to gaze upon the purple mountains of the fair Andalusia; perhaps the night breeze wafted across that narrow channel the strange fragrance of a thousand orange groves, intermixed with the wild herbs and flowers of the mountains of Spain, and woke the weary Arab from his dream of the dreary reality of his hot African clime to the desired conquest of that unknown country. Brightly were such dreams realised in the siege and subsequent capture of Ceuta, and in the ultimate conquest of Spain.b

Leaving the story of the Arabian invasion of Europe to a later chapter, we may continue with the destinies of the Omayyad dynasty.a

THE EASTERN CALIPHATE

Immediately on his succession Walid had confirmed Hajjaj in the government of Irak, and appointed as governor of Medina his cousin, Omar b. Abdul-Aziz, who was received there with joy, his piety and gentle character being well known. Under his government important works were undertaken at Medina and Mecca by order of Walid, who, having no rivals to struggle against, was able to give his attention to pacific occupations. The mosque of Medina was enlarged, wells were sunk, the streets widened, and hospitals established. At Mecca many improvements were introduced. The reputation of Omar attracted to the two holy cities a great number of the inhabitants of Irak, who were groaning under the iron hand of Hajjaj. The latter, who was not a man to let his prey escape from his grasp, was so urgent with Walid that he obtained the dismissal of Omar b. Abdul-Aziz in the year 93, and the appointment of Othman b. Hayyan at Medina, and of Khalid b. Abdallah at Mecca. These two prefects compelled the refugees at Mecca and Medina to return to Irak, where many of them were cruelly treated and even put to death by Hajjaj. It was probably his cruelty which drove so many men of Irak to enlist in the armies of the East and the South; and this may in some degree account for the unheard-of successes of Kotaiba b. Muslim in Transoxiana, and of Muhammed b. Kasim in India. They may also be explained by the ambition of Hajjaj, who, it is said, cherished the project of creating a vast empire for himself to the east and south of the Moslem realm, and had secretly promised the government of China to the first of his generals who should reach that country. Be this as it may, in the course of a very few years Kotaiba conquered the whole of Bokhara, Khwarizm, and[185] Transoxiana or Mawara-annahr, as far as the frontiers of China. Meanwhile Muhammed b. Kasim invaded Mokram, Sind, and Multan, carried off an immense booty, and reduced the women and children to slavery. In Armenia and Asia Minor, Maslama, brother of the caliph Walid, and his lieutenants, also obtained numerous successes against the Greeks. In Armenia, Maslama even advanced as far as the Caucasus.

SULEIMAN’S AMBITIONS

Walid, in the very year of his death, which took place in 715, wished to have his son Abdul-Aziz b. Walid chosen as his successor, and had offered his brother Suleiman a great sum of money to induce him to surrender his rights to the caliphate; but Suleiman obstinately refused to do so. Walid went still farther, and sent letters to the governors of all the provinces, calling on them to make the people take the oath of allegiance to his son. None except Hajjaj and Kotaiba b. Muslim consented thus to set at nought the order of succession established by Abdul-Malik; and Suleiman succeeded without difficulty at the death of his brother. We can easily conceive the hatred felt by Suleiman for Hajjaj, and for all that belonged to him, far or near. Hajjaj himself escaped by death; but Suleiman poured out his wrath on his family, and strove to undo all that he had done. First of all, Muhammed b. Kasim, the conqueror of India, who was cousin to Hajjaj, was dismissed from his post and outlawed. Hajjaj had deprived Yazid b. Muhallab of the government of Khorasan; Suleiman conferred on him that of Irak. Kotaiba b. Muslim, on learning the accession of Suleiman, knew that his own ruin was certain, and therefore anticipated the caliph by a revolt. But Suleiman induced Kotaiba’s troops to desert by authorising them to return to their homes; and when the illustrious general sought to carry his army with him, a conspiracy was formed against him which ended in his murder. Yazid b. Muhallab, who preferred Khorasan to Irak, obtained permission to exchange. Immediately on his return to Khorasan he set on foot a series of new expeditions against Jorjan and Tabaristan. But the inhabitants of Khorasan, which he governed oppressively, made complaints against him to the caliph, accusing him of practising extortions in order to obtain such a sum of money as would enable him to rebel against his sovereign. From that day Suleiman determined to get rid of Yazid. As, however, he was then dreaming of the conquest of Constantinople, he thought it prudent to dissemble his dissatisfaction for some time in order to concentrate his attention on the object of his desires.

[186]

The Byzantine Empire was disturbed by internal troubles during the years 715-717 A.D. Suleiman resolved to take advantage of these in order to rid himself forever of the hereditary enemy of Islam, and prepared a formidable expedition. A fleet of eighteen hundred vessels, equipped at Alexandria, sailed to the coasts of Asia Minor, took on board the Moslem army, commanded by Maslama, and transported it to Europe. This army appeared under the walls of Constantinople the 15th of August, 717, five months after Leo III, the Isaurian, had ascended the throne. Once more the Greek fire prevailed against the Moslems. Their fleet was destroyed by this terrible engine of war; the army could obtain no fresh supply of provisions, and suffered all the horrors of famine. Meanwhile the caliph, who desired to be present in person at the taking of Constantinople, had set out to join the army. He fell ill at Dabik, not far from Aleppo, and died there on the 22nd of September in the same year, after having nominated as his own successor his cousin, Omar b. Abdul-Aziz, and as successor to the latter, Yazid b. Abdul-Malik, his own brother. In vain did the new caliph despatch from Egypt a fleet of four hundred ships to carry arms and provisions to the army before Constantinople; this fleet also was destroyed by the Greeks, and the Moslem army was decimated by famine, and soon by the plague as well. A hundred thousand men perished miserably under the walls of Constantinople, and Maslama brought back to Asia Minor a mere handful of soldiers, and that with great difficulty.c

THE LAST OMAYYADS (717-750 A.D.)

The caliph appointed by Suleiman to be his successor was his cousin, Omar II, the son of Abdul-Aziz, a sovereign in whom according to some authors were united all the virtues of the great Omar without any of the latter’s severity against unbelievers, while others accuse him of levying intolerable imposts on the Christians. Yazid, Suleiman’s one time favourite, the governor of Khorasan, was thrown into prison for defalcation, and all other governors received strict orders not to resort to force and oppression in spreading the doctrines of Islamism, but to proceed with all mildness and humanity. Unfortunately for the realm the rule of the just and pious prince whose soul turned from earthly greatness and pride of conquest to the joys of paradise, was of but short duration. In the third year of his reign he succumbed to a painful malady which caused grave suspicions of poisoning to arise against certain of his ambitious kinsmen. Omar had not yet attained his fortieth year when, deeply mourned by all his people, he was laid in his grave at Deir Saman, in the neighbourhood of Hims (Emesa).

The four years’ reign of Yazid II, who had beforehand been appointed Omar’s successor by his brother, Suleiman, ran its course in the midst of civil and foreign strife. Scarcely had Yazid, Muhallab’s son, learned of the death of the caliph when he escaped from prison and fleeing to Irak, where his brothers and other kindred possessed a large following, raised the standard of revolt. He was overcome, however, by the Syrian army under Maslama at Akr, on the left bank of the Euphrates, and sought and found death on the battle-field. His brothers were also overpowered by the hostile forces at Kerman, their wives and children were sold as slaves and the rebellious cities of Bassora and Wasit were heavily punished. At the same time wars, desertions, and conspiracies were rife in the remaining provinces, especially in northern Africa; while even in Spain and southern France the Moslem arms no longer met with their former success. Meanwhile the caliph in[187] Damascus was giving himself up completely to the pleasures of love and song, and in the arms of a favourite slave was seeking restoration from the fatigues and hardships of a ruler’s life.

Yazid’s brother and successor, Hisham, adopted an entirely different course. Simple in taste, just and pious like both the Omars, he banished from his court the luxury and extravagance in which most of his predecessors had freely indulged. But the house of Omayyad had too many enemies even among the believers themselves, and passions had been too deeply stirred by the recent civil war to make it possible that the twenty years’ reign of a prince who in spite of many praiseworthy qualities had by his avarice and suspicion incurred the enmity of all the city authorities, could run its course without suffering violence from storms and accidents. The abhorrence felt in Cufa toward the cruel and rapacious governor Khalid, had moreover revived in the minds of the mercurial inhabitants of Irak, all their former aversion to the Omayyads, and incited the Shiites to fresh revolt. Khalid was indeed deposed from office and forced by torture to disgorge his ill-got wealth, but the conspiracy was already too widespread to be completely uprooted. Zaid, a grandson of Husein, headed a revolt in the streets of Cufa, which resulted in a sharp struggle during which the leader and most of his followers lost their lives. Zaid’s body was mutilated and his head sent to the caliph at Damascus. But the new glory of martyrdom served only to enhance the importance and sanctity of the Alids, and to strengthen the hopes entertained by the Abbasids, their kinsmen, of entering the succession and getting the sovereignty away from the Koreishites to secure it to the house of Hisham to which alone, in the opinion of strict believers, it rightfully belonged. They had a large following in Khorasan and Transoxiana; and the Kharijites who, in consequence of the recent campaigns, had spread over the entire realm, served them in India and in Africa in the execution of their ambitious plans against the Omayyads.

The insurrections, conspiracies, and civil wars which under Hisham broke out with ever increasing violence in the provinces, multiplying acts of rapacity and revenge, and dealing death-blows to the welfare of country, state, and people by the destruction of agriculture, industry, and trade, were so many indubitable signs that the unity of the kingdom was about to be dissolved, that the might of the Omayyad dynasty in Damascus was nearing its end. The subjugated populations were beginning to recover from their surprise and to bethink themselves of former times; and though the majority still remained faithful to the new religion, the consciousness of their national identity and remembrance of the past were not to be blotted from their minds, and the bold leader who could best evoke these secret feelings could count upon warm sympathy and a crowd of followers. The dissimilar elements that religious zeal had served to bind together in the first enthusiasm of the “Sacred War,” strove in the course of time, as other interests came uppermost and smothered passions again broke loose, to separate naturally and once more become distinct. These strivings on the part of the people towards independence were effectually aided by the divisions and hostilities that existed between the various commanders, by the machinations of the Abbasids, and their co-religionists and by the avarice of the caliph who, though observing the closest parsimony in his own mode of living, loved to feast his eyes on full state coffers.

Walid II, Hisham’s successor, scattered the hoarded treasures of his predecessor, and delighted flatterers, courtiers, generals, and troops by his boundless liberality. He disgraced himself, on the other hand, by his[188] licentiousness and excesses, and gave offence by running counter to all the accepted Mohammedan customs and religious laws. However loudly smooth-tongued poets, in whose company he squandered the wealth that was his by oppression as well as by inheritance, might sing his praises, the people were wroth with the unworthy ruler who spent his time in hunting and debauchery, found all his pleasure in wine, song, and dance, indulged in unnatural vices and flouted public decency by carrying with him dogs and wine on a pilgrimage to Mecca. When, therefore, this godless caliph sent to the governors a circular letter filled with pious maxims of the strictest orthodoxy, calling upon all the people to acknowledge and swear allegiance to his two minor sons, Hakam and Othman, as their future rulers, the unheard-of innovation excited the liveliest dissatisfaction. Especially loud in their complaints were the sovereign’s own kinsmen, who had each in secret cherished the hope of succession; so that now another and more threatening danger was added to those by which the royal house was already beset; disunion within itself. The sons of Hisham and Walid I allied themselves with the enemies of the Omayyads, and accused the caliph, whom they had also personally affronted, of “unbelief, free-thought, and incest.” Even Khalid, hitherto steadily devoted to the House of Omayyah, hesitated at swearing allegiance to two children who “did not yet know how to pray, and could not be accepted as lawful witnesses.” The caliph thereupon gave him into the hands of his mortal enemy Yusuf, governor of Cufa, who caused his members to be broken one after another until he died under the torture. By this act Walid increased the number of his enemies. A widespread conspiracy was formed in Damascus and its vicinity, under the leadership of Yazid, son of the former caliph Walid I, as a result of which the commander of the faithful was attacked by a troop of insurgents in his castle of Nadira, and after a brave resistance was overpowered and killed. The following day his head was carried on the end of a lance about the streets of Damascus, and his own brother Suleiman refused to his remains the honour of burial. The reign of Yazid III lasted but half a year. As a former rebel against the rightful sovereign, as an adherent of the doctrines of free-will, and as a parsimonious leader who curtailed the pay of his troops, he had made many enemies; and would certainly have succumbed to the arms of mighty Merwan, the Omayyad governor of Armenia and Aderbaijan, who advanced upon him with a large army, had he not died just previous to the encounter.

Merwan now entered Syria with his seasoned, experienced troops, captured Himso, and in a desperate engagement that took place in a narrow valley near Ain Diar defeated the Yemenite army that Hisham’s son, Suleiman, had led into the field against him. In this battle Suleiman left seventeen thousand men on the field of battle, and as many more fell into the hands of Merwan, while the rest of his army scattered in disorder. When the news of this battle reached Damascus, Ibrahim, whom Yazid III had designated as his successor, fled with Suleiman from the capital, after having put to death Walid’s sons and Yusuf, the earlier governor of Irak, who were in prison, and seized the state treasures. Merwan, who had hitherto acted only as Walid’s avenger and the protector of his sons, now found himself in a position where he could stretch out his hand towards the crown of caliph, and cause the oath of allegiance to be taken to himself. In order to give his pretensions the appearance of legitimacy he made known the statement of a fellow-prisoner of the murdered princes, who asserted that at his death the eldest of them had made over his right of succession to the throne[189] to him, Merwan. In spite of this sanction, whether true or false, and in spite of the reconciliation which took place later with Ibrahim and Suleiman, Merwan’s rule never met with full recognition. The battle of Ain Diar had inflicted wounds too deep, had brought uppermost in too many minds the sacred duty of revenge, to allow Merwan, the usurper, to ever come to peaceful enjoyment of his power. The years of his reign were marked by uninterrupted struggles with hostile factions, who had again united and all over the realm were stirring up the people to revolt. Even the Syrians, who had hitherto been the Omayyad’s strongest prop, went over in part to the enemy, and Merwan, with all his military talent and the tireless activity that had won for him the rather doubtful title of Himar (Donkey), could not in the long run withstand such determined opposition. With insurrection, tribal feuds, and civil strife in every province the whole realm was in a condition of anarchy and lawlessness that destroyed all private peace, and awoke in every breast an intense desire for a firm hand at the helm of state that should guide it into less troubled waters. That such a ruler was no longer to be looked for among the members of the house of Omayyah, divided as it was, and having foot on no solid, religious ground, had lately become the settled conviction in the minds of all.

In the East the active partisan, Abu Muslim, had raised the black flag of the Abbasids and had appeared clad in black in company with his followers at the most splendid feasts. “Under the embers,” said Nasr, governor of Khorasan, to the caliph when he begged help against the house of Abbas and its champion, Abu Muslim, “I see red coals that will soon burst into flame and suffocate or consume the wisest, body and trunk. As wood nurses fire to flame, so incendiary speeches precipitate war, and in astonishment I ask, is the family of Omayyah awake or asleep?”

After Nasr had suffered numerous attacks from Abu Muslim he received from the caliph reinforcements under the general Nabata. But when the latter with ten thousand Syrians was defeated by Abu Muslim’s forces, under Kahtaba Nasr fled with the rest of his troops to Hamadan. He did not live to reach the ancient city, and his successor to the governorship surrendered to Kahtaba who was just returning from a second victory near Ispahan, on condition that himself and his Syrian followers should receive full pardon. The black flag of Abbasids now waved in all the lands east of the Tigris, and for the family of Omayyah the decisive hour had arrived. Kahtaba perished on the blood-soaked battle-field of Kerbela; but his son Hasan, who succeeded his father to the command, completely defeated the Syrian army, which was led by the brave governor Hobaira. It was now the turn of Cufa to display the black banner and in that city Abul-Abbas, the head of the Abbasids, was proclaimed caliph.

When the news of these events reached the warlike Merwan, he gathered together his entire military force and after causing Ibrahim, the eldest of the Abbasid brothers, to be put to death in his prison at Haram, advanced to meet the enemy. On the river Zab, not far from the ruins of Nineveh, where once in the neighbourhood of Arbela and Gaugamela the fate of the Persian kingdom and its reigning house had been decided, took place the great battle which wrested from the Omayyads the sceptre of supremacy in the East, and gave the first impulse toward the dissolution of the entire kingdom (January 25th, 750). Fortune which had so long been favourable to Merwan now deserted him; beset by treachery and ill-chance, he fled from the battle-field to Hims and Damascus, whither but few of the soldiers that made up his mighty forces could follow him, those who escaped the[190] sword of the enemy finding death in the waters of the stream. Abdallah then began a triumphal march through all the towns and countries that lay between Mosul and Syria. Merwan, after having appointed his son-in-law Walid governor, fled at his approach to Palestine. Here he learned that the black flag was also flying in Damascus, where the terrible Abdallah, nicknamed “As-Saffan, the Shedder of Blood,” had celebrated his entrance by putting to death the newly appointed governor Walid, and he again sought flight—into Egypt this time. But insurrection had reached even the peaceful Nile valley, and in an unsuccessful engagement with the opposing factionists Merwan II came to a violent end while seeking refuge in a church at Busir, in Upper Egypt.

With Merwan’s death the last support to the unity of the kingdom was removed. Weak and unpopular as were many of the rulers of the Omayyad dynasty, their sway nevertheless extended from the Indus and the Iaxartes to the western coast of the Pyrenean peninsula, and from the Caucasus to the Bay of Aden. Sole founders and perpetuators of the Islamite kingdom in the three divisions of the ancient world, the early fame of the Omayyads served to gloss over many a fault in their later representatives, lending a lustre to their names which according to their contemporaries did not rightfully belong to them. Now that Abul-Abbas had become established in Damascus, the central point round which the whole political life of the Moslems had revolved was lost; and Islamism was henceforth to break up into ever widening smaller circles in which each unit was free to develop individually, until the Mohammedan world should be again reduced to that condition of dismemberment which had at first prevailed among the tribes of the Arabian peninsula. There were indeed among the caliphs of Damascus some to whom virtues and the ability to rule were not denied by later writers. Omar II’s piety and love of justice, and the court life of Yazid II, bright with all the lustre that benevolence, poetry, and brilliant feasts could shed upon it, received full meed of praise from poets and true believers. By borrowing from the Byzantines their methods of administration and their Greek-Roman culture, by attracting to their court physicians, architects, and mathematicians, and enriching the simple life of the inhabitants of the desert with the arts and conveniences of civilisation, they showed future rulers how to weld together native and foreign constituents so that great results might be obtained, to unite many and diverse elements into one specific whole. But a stain rested upon the name of the Omayyads that, in the opinion of true believers, could never be wiped away. The blood of Ali and his family still dyed their hands, they had driven the sacred line of Mohammed from the seat of honour, and they had covered the head of Hosein with ridicule and contempt. These sins could not be expiated by any single act; they constituted a perpetual curse that must descend from one generation to another of the race, dividing families by dissensions and internal feuds until the whole dynasty should finally be overthrown.d

---

[191]

CHAPTER VII. THE ARABS IN EUROPE

In the progress of conquest from the north and south, the Goths and the Saracens encountered each other on the confines of Europe and Africa. In the opinion of the latter, the difference of religion is a reasonable ground of enmity and warfare. As early as the time of Othman, their piratical squadrons had ravaged the coasts of Andalusia; nor had they forgotten the relief of Carthage by the Gothic succours. In that age, as well as in the present, the kings of Spain were possessed of the fortress of Ceuta; one of the columns of Hercules, which is divided by a narrow strait from the opposite pillar or point of Europe. A small portion of Mauretania was still wanting to the African conquest; but Musa, in the pride of victory, was repulsed from the walls of Ceuta by the vigilance and courage of Count Julian, the general of the Goths. From his disappointment and perplexity Musa was relieved by an unexpected message from the Christian chief, who offered his place, his person, and his sword, to the successors of Mohammed, and solicited the disgraceful honour of introducing their arms into the heart of Spain.

If we inquire into the cause of his treachery, the Spaniards will repeat the popular story of his daughter La Cava, of a virgin who was seduced, or ravished, by her sovereign; of a father who sacrificed his religion and country to the thirst of revenge. The passions of princes have often been licentious and destructive; but this well-known tale, romantic in itself, is indifferently supported by external evidence; and the history of Spain will suggest some motives of interest and policy more congenial to the breast of a veteran statesman. After the decease or deposition of Witiza, his two sons were supplanted by the ambition of Roderic, a noble Goth, whose father, the duke or governor of a province, had fallen a victim to the preceding tyranny. The monarchy was still elective; but the sons of Witiza, educated on the steps of the throne, were impatient of a private station. Their resentment was more dangerous, as it was varnished with the dissimulation of courts; their followers were excited by the remembrance of favours and the promise of a revolution; and their uncle Oppas, archbishop of Toledo and Seville, was the first[192] person in the church, and the second in the state. It is probable that Julian was involved in the disgrace of the unsuccessful faction; that he had little to hope and much to fear from the new reign; and that the imprudent king could not forget or forgive the injuries which Roderic and his family had sustained. Too feeble to meet his sovereign in arms, he sought the aid of a foreign power; and his rash invitation to the Moors and Arabs produced the calamities of eight hundred years. In his epistles, or in a personal interview, he revealed the wealth and nakedness of his country; the weakness of an unpopular prince; the degeneracy of an effeminate people.

The Goths were no longer the victorious barbarians who had humbled the pride of Rome, despoiled the queen of nations, and penetrated from the Danube to the Atlantic Ocean. Secluded from the world by the Pyrenean Mountains, the successors of Alaric had slumbered in a long peace; the walls of the cities were mouldered into dust; the youth had abandoned the exercise of arms; and the presumption of their ancient renown would expose them in a field of battle to the first assault of the invaders. The ambitious Saracen was fired by the ease and importance of the attempt; but the execution was delayed till he had consulted the commander of the faithful; and his messenger returned with the permission of Walid to annex the unknown kingdoms of the West to the religion and throne of the caliphs. In his residence of Tangier, Musa, with secrecy and caution, continued his correspondence and hastened his preparations. But the remorse of the conspirators was soothed by the fallacious assurance that he should content himself with the glory and spoil, without aspiring to establish the Moslems beyond the sea that separates Africa from Europe.

Before Musa would trust an army of the faithful to the traitors and infidels of a foreign land, he made a less dangerous trial of their strength and veracity. One hundred Arabs, and four hundred Africans passed over in four vessels from Tangier, or Ceuta; the place of their descent on the opposite shore of the strait is marked by the name of Tarik their chief; and the date of this memorable event is fixed to the month of Ramadhan, of the ninety-first year of the Hegira. Their hospitable entertainment, the Christians who joined their standard, their inroad into a fertile and unguarded province, the richness of their spoil and the safety of their return, announced to their brethren the most favourable omens of victory. In the ensuing spring, five thousand veterans and volunteers were embarked under the command of Tarik, a dauntless and skilful soldier, who surpassed the expectation of his chief; and the necessary transports were provided by the industry of their too faithful ally.

The Saracens landed at the pillar or point of Europe; the corrupt and familiar appellation of Gibraltar (Jebel at-Tarik) describes the mountain of Tarik; and the entrenchments of his camp were the first outline of those fortifications, which, in the hands of the British, have resisted the art and power of the house of Bourbon. The adjacent governors informed the court of Toledo of the descent and progress of the Arabs; and the defeat of his lieutenant Edeco, who had been commanded to seize and bind the presumptuous strangers, admonished Roderic of the magnitude of the danger. At the royal summons, the dukes, and counts, the bishops and nobles of the Gothic monarchy, assembled at the head of their followers; and the title of king of the Romans, which is employed by an Arabic historian, may be excused by the close affinity of language, religion, and manners, between the nations of Spain.

His army consisted of ninety or a hundred thousand men; a formidable power, if their fidelity and discipline had been adequate to their numbers.[193] The troops of Tarik had been augmented to twelve thousand Saracens; but the Christian malcontents were attracted by the influence of Julian, and a crowd of Africans most greedily tasted the temporal blessings of the Koran. In the neighbourhood of Cadiz, the town of Xeres has been illustrated by the encounter which determined the fate of the kingdom; the stream of the Guadalete, which falls into the bay, divided the two camps, and marked the advancing and retreating skirmishes of three successive and bloody days. On the fourth day, the two armies joined a more serious and decisive issue; but Alaric would have blushed at the sight of his unworthy successor, sustaining on his head a diadem of pearls, encumbered with a flowing robe of gold and silken embroidery, and reclining on a litter, or car of ivory, drawn by two white mules. Notwithstanding the valour of the Saracens, they fainted under the weight of multitudes, and the plain of Xeres was overspread with sixteen thousand of their dead bodies. “My brethren,” said Tarik to his surviving companions, “the enemy is before you, the sea is behind; whither would ye fly? Follow your general; I am resolved either to lose my life, or to trample on the prostrate king of the Romans.” Besides the resource of despair, he confided in the secret correspondence and nocturnal interviews of Count Julian with the sons and the brother of Witiza. The two princes and the archbishop of Toledo occupied the most important post; their well-timed defection broke the ranks of the Christians; each warrior was prompted by fear or suspicion to consult his personal safety; and the remains of the Gothic army were scattered or destroyed in the flight and pursuit of the three following days. Amidst the general disorder, Roderick started from his car, and mounted Orelia, the fleetest of his horses; but he escaped from a soldier’s death to perish more ignobly in the waters of the Bætis or Guadalquivir. His diadem, his robes, and his courser, were found on the bank; but as the body of the Gothic prince was lost in the waves, the pride and ignorance of the caliph must have been gratified with some meaner head, which was exposed in triumph before the palace of Damascus.[38] “And such,” continues a valiant historianb of the Arabs, “is the fate of those kings who withdraw themselves from a field of battle.”

Count Julian had plunged so deep into guilt and infamy, that his only hope was in the ruin of his country. After the battle of Xeres he recommended the most effectual measures to the victorious Saracen. Tarik listened to his advice. A Roman captive and proselyte, who had been enfranchised by the caliph himself, assaulted Cordova with seven hundred horse; he swam the river, surprised the town, and drove the Christians into the great church, where they defended themselves above three months. Another detachment reduced the seacoast of Bætica. The march of Tarik was directed through the Sierra Morena, that separates Andalusia and Castile, till he appeared in arms under the walls of Toledo. The most zealous of the Catholics had escaped with the relics of their saints; and if the gates were shut it was only till the victor had subscribed a fair and reasonable capitulation. But if the justice of Tarik protected the Christians, his gratitude and policy rewarded the Jews, to whose secret or open aid he was indebted for his most important acquisitions. Persecuted by the kings and synods of Spain, who had often pressed the alternative of banishment or baptism, that outcast nation embraced the moment of revenge; the comparison of their past and present state was the pledge of their[194] fidelity; and the alliance between the disciples of Moses and of Mohammed was maintained till the final era of their common expulsion.

From the royal seat of Toledo, the Arabian leader spread his conquests to the north, over the modern realms of Castile and Leon; but it is needless to enumerate the cities that yielded on his approach, or again to describe the table of emerald, transported from the East by the Romans, acquired by the Goths among the spoils of Rome, and presented by the Arabs to the throne of Damascus. Beyond the Asturian mountains, the maritime town of Gijon was the term of the lieutenant of Musa, who had performed, with the speed of a traveller, his victorious march of seven hundred miles, from the rock of Gibraltar to the Bay of Biscay. The failure of land compelled him to retreat; and he was recalled to Toledo to excuse his presumption of subduing a kingdom in the absence of his general.

Spain, which, in a more savage and disorderly state, had resisted two hundred years the arms of the Romans, was overrun in a few months by those of the Saracens; and such was the eagerness of submission and treaty, that the governor of Cordova is recorded as the only chief who fell, without conditions, a prisoner into their hands. The cause of the Goths had been irrevocably judged in the field of Xeres; and, in the national dismay, each part of the monarchy declined a contest with the antagonist who had vanquished the united strength of the whole. Yet a spark of the vital flame was still alive; some invincible fugitives preferred a life of poverty and freedom in the Asturian valleys; the hardy mountaineer repulsed the slaves of the caliph; and the sword of Pelagius (Pelayo) has been transformed into the sceptre of the Catholic kings.

On the intelligence of his rapid success, the applause of Musa degenerated into envy; and he began, not to complain but to fear, that Tarik would leave him nothing to subdue. At the head of ten thousand Arabs and eight thousand Africans, he passed over in person from Mauretania to Spain; the first of his companions were the noblest of the Koreish; his eldest son was left in the command of Africa; the three younger brethren were of an age and spirit to second the boldest enterprises of their father. Some enemies yet remained for the sword of Musa. The tardy repentance of the Goths had compared their own numbers and those of the invaders; the cities from which the march of Tarik had declined considered themselves as impregnable; and the bravest patriots defended the fortifications of Seville and Merida. They were successively besieged and reduced by the labour of Musa, who transported his camp from the Bætis to the Anas, from the Guadalquivir to the Guadiana. When he beheld the works of Roman magnificence, the bridge, the aqueducts, the triumphal arches, and the theatre, of the ancient metropolis of Lusitania, “I should imagine,” said he to his four companions, “that the human race must have united their art and power in the foundation[195] of this city; happy is the man who shall become its master!” The defence of Merida was obstinate and long; and the castle of the martyrs was a perpetual testimony of the losses of the Moslems. The constancy of the besieged was at length subdued by famine and despair; and the prudent victor disguised his impatience under the names of clemency and esteem. The alternative of exile or tribute was allowed; the churches were divided between the two religions; and the wealth of those who had fallen in the siege, or retired to Galicia, was confiscated as the reward of the faithful.

In the midway between Merida and Toledo, the lieutenant of Musa saluted the vicegerent of the caliph, and conducted him to the palace of the Gothic kings. Their first interview was cold and formal; a rigid account was exacted of the treasures of Spain; the character of Tarik was exposed to suspicion and obloquy; and the hero was imprisoned, reviled, and ignominiously scourged by the hand, or the command, of Musa. Yet so strict was the discipline, so pure the zeal, or so tame the spirit, of the primitive Moslems, that after this public indignity, Tarik could serve and be trusted in the reduction of the Tarragonese province. A mosque was erected at Saragossa, by the liberality of the Koreish; the port of Barcelona was opened to the vessels of Syria; and the Goths were pursued beyond the Pyrenean Mountains into their Gallic province of Septimania or Languedoc. In the church of St. Mary at Carcassonne, Musa found, but it is improbable that he left, seven equestrian statues of massy silver; and from his term or column of Narbonne, he returned on his footsteps to the Galician and Lusitanian shores of the ocean. During the absence of the father, the son Abdul-Aziz chastised the insurgents of Seville, and reduced, from Malaga to Valencia, the seacoast of the Mediterranean.

Theodemir and his subjects were treated with uncommon lenity; but the rate of tribute appears to have fluctuated from a tenth to a fifth, according to the submission or obstinacy of the Christians. In this revolution, many partial calamities were inflicted by the carnal or religious passions of the enthusiasts; some churches were profaned by the new worship; some relics or images were confounded with idols; the rebels were put to the sword; and one town (an obscure place between Cordova and Seville) was razed to its foundations. Yet if we compare the invasion of Spain by the Goths, or its recovery by the kings of Castile and Aragon, we must applaud the moderation and discipline of the Arabian conquerors.

The exploits of Musa were performed in the evening of life, though he affected to disguise his age by colouring with a red powder the whiteness of his beard. But in the love of action and glory, his breast was still fired with the ardour of youth; and the possession of Spain was considered only as the first step to the monarchy of Europe. With a powerful armament by sea and land, he was preparing to repass the Pyrenees, to extinguish in Gaul and Italy the declining kingdoms of the Franks and Lombards, and to preach the unity of God on the altar of the Vatican. From thence subduing the Barbarians of Germany, he proposed to follow the course of the Danube from its source to the Euxine Sea, to overthrow the Greek or Roman Empire of Constantinople, and, returning from Europe to Asia, to unite his new acquisitions with Antioch and the provinces of Syria. But his vast enterprise, perhaps of easy execution, must have seemed extravagant to vulgar minds; and the visionary conqueror was soon reminded of his dependence and servitude.

The friends of Tarik had effectually stated his services and wrongs; at the court of Damascus, the proceedings of Musa were blamed, his intentions[196] were suspected, and his delay in complying with the first invitation was chastised by a harsher and more peremptory summons. An intrepid messenger of the caliph entered his camp at Lugo in Galicia, and in the presence of the Saracens and Christians arrested the bridle of his horse. His own loyalty, or that of his troops, inculcated the duty of obedience; and his disgrace was alleviated by the recall of his rival, and the permission of investing with his two governments his two sons, Abdallah and Abdul-Aziz. His long triumph, from Ceuta to Damascus, displayed the spoils of Africa and the treasures of Spain; four hundred Gothic nobles, with gold coronets and girdles, were distinguished in his train; and the number of male and female captives, selected for their birth or beauty, was computed at eighteen, or even at thirty, thousand persons.

Ten years after the conquest, a map of the province was presented to the caliph—the seas, the rivers, and the harbours, the inhabitants and cities, the climate, the soil, and the mineral productions of the earth. In the space of two centuries the gifts of nature were improved by the agriculture, the manufactures, and the commerce of an industrious people; and the effects of their diligence have been magnified by the idleness of their fancy. The first of the Omayyads who reigned in Spain solicited the support of the Christians; and, in his edict of peace and protection, he contents himself with a modest imposition of ten thousand ounces of gold, ten thousand pounds of silver, ten thousand horses, as many mules, one thousand cuirasses, with an equal number of helmets and lances. The most powerful of his successors derived from the same kingdom the annual tribute of twelve millions and forty-five thousand dinars or pieces of gold, about six millions of sterling money; a sum which, in the tenth century, most probably surpassed the united revenues of the Christian monarchs. His royal seat of Cordova contained six hundred mosques, nine hundred baths, and two hundred thousand houses; he gave laws to eighty cities of the first, to three hundred of the second and third order: and the fertile banks of the Guadalquivir were adorned with twelve thousand villages and hamlets. The Arabs might exaggerate the truth, but they created and they describe the most prosperous era of the riches, the cultivation, and the populousness of Spain.c

Musa did not reach Syria until the close of the year 714. Walid Abul-Abbas was on the bed of death; and Suleiman, the brother and heir of the caliph, wrote to the emir, commanding him not to approach the expiring sovereign, but to delay his entrance into Damascus until the opening of a new reign. Suleiman doubtless wished that the pomp of the spectacle should grace his own accession, and that the treasures now brought should not run the risk of dispersion by his brother. But Musa imprudently disregarded the command; perhaps he dreaded the fate which would await him for his delay should Walid recover; and he proceeded to the palace. That prince, however, in a few days bade adieu to empire and to life, and Musa remained exposed to the vengeance of Suleiman. He was cast into prison; was beaten with rods, while made to stand a whole day before the gate of the palace; and lastly was fined in so heavy a sum, that, unless his wealth were exhaustless, he must have been impoverished.

While Musa was thus deservedly punished for his rapacity and injustice, his son Abdul-Aziz was actively employed in finishing the subjugation of the peninsula. But one step, which he doubtless expected would strengthen his influence with both Arabs and natives, was the occasion of his downfall. Smitten with the charms of Egilona, the widow of Roderic, he made her first his concubine, next his wife; and it is probable that through the counsels[197] of that ambitious and unprincipled woman, he aimed at an independent sovereignty. Besides, Suleiman might well apprehend the open rebellion of the son, on learning the story of the father’s harsh fate. To prevent the consequences which he dreaded might arise from the indignation of this powerful family, he despatched secret orders for the deposition and death of the three brothers. And Abdul-Aziz, while assisting at morning prayers in the mosque of Seville, fell beneath the poniards of the assassins. After this bloody execution, so characteristic of Mussulman government, Habib ben Obaid departed with the head of the emir to the court of Damascus. It was shown to Musa by the caliph, who at the same time asked him with a bitter smile, if he recognised it. The old man, who recognised it too well, turned away his shuddering looks, and fearlessly exclaimed, “Cursed be he who has destroyed a better man than himself!” He then left the palace and betook himself to the deserts of Arabia, where the grief of having thus lost his children soon brought him broken-hearted to the grave.

Severe as were the afflictions of Musa, and execrable as was the manner in which those afflictions were brought upon him, it is impossible to feel much pity for his fate. Of envy, rapacity, and injustice, he has been proved abundantly guilty; and though little is said of his cruelty by Arabic writers who lived long after his time, it is no less indisputable from the testimony of contemporary Christian historians. The horrors which he perpetrated in his career of conquest, or rather of extermination, have been compared to those of Troy and of Jerusalem, and to the worst atrocities of the persecuting heathen emperors. There may be exaggeration in the declamatory statements of those historians, but the very exaggeration must be admitted to prove the melancholy fact. The execution of Abdul-Aziz produced a great consternation in the minds of the natives.

The Arab sheikhs assembled to invest one of their body with the high dignity. The virtues and wisdom of Ayub ben Habib, the nephew of Musa, commanded their unanimous suffrages. But Omar II, the successor of Suleiman, disdaining to recognise a governor not appointed by the sovereign authority of the caliph, deposed Ayub and nominated Al-Haur ben Abd ar-Rahman to the viceregal dignity. Not even the rich booty which he collected during an irruption into Gothic Gaul, could, it is said, satisfy his rapacity; and he extorted heavy sums from the people. But what added most to the discontent of the Arabs was the defeat of his general Al-Kama, who had ventured to penetrate into the mountain fastnesses of the Asturias, to crush the infant power of Pelayo. [See the later volume on Spain.]

Yazid, the successor of Omar, replaced Al-Haur by As-Sama ben Malik [or Assan], 721 A.D. At the head of a considerable force, he passed the Pyrenees, took Carcassonne, reduced Narbonne, and laid siege to Toulouse, which made a noble resistance until Eudes, duke of Aquitaine, hastened to its relief. A bloody battle was fought under the walls of that city, fatal to the hopes of the Moslems. Their emir, their sheikhs, and many thousands of their number, were left on the field; perhaps few would have escaped, but for the courageous address of Abd ar-Rahman, the lieutenant of the deceased chief, who rallied the remains of the troops, and safely effected a retreat to Narbonne.

The grateful remnant immediately invested Abd ar-Rahman ben Abdallah with the government of Spain; and the election was confirmed by the emir of Africa. But Ambasa succeeded, by criminal intrigues, in procuring the deposition of this favourite chief and his own nomination. Carcassonne and Nîmes vainly attempted to resist him. In the midst of his success, however,[198] death surprised him; and, at his own request, Odsra ben Abdallah was permitted to succeed him, but was speedily replaced by Yahya ben Salma. So loud, however, were the complaints that the African emir was obliged to depose him, and to nominate in his room Othman ben Abi Neza, better known to the readers both of history and romance as Manuza. But in a very few months this emir was replaced by another; and the latter was as summarily removed to make way for the Syrian Al-Haitam ben Obaid. At the end of two months, Abd ar-Rahman, the predecessor of Ambasa, was again invested with the viceregal dignity—an appointment which gave the highest satisfaction to the country.

THE INVASION OF FRANCE

This celebrated emir commenced his second administration by distributing justice so impartially, that the professors of neither faith could find reason to complain. But these cares could not long divert him from the great design he had formed—that of invading the whole of Gaul. Though the Arabic historians conceal the extent of the preparations, for the natural purpose of palliating the disgrace of failure, there can be no doubt that those preparations were on an immense scale; that the true believers flocked to the white standard[39] from the farthest parts of the caliph’s dominions; and that the whole Mohammedan world contemplated the expedition with intense anxiety.

Just before the Mussulman army commenced its march, Othman, who still continued at his station in Gothic Gaul, very near to the Pyrenees, received orders to lay waste the province of Aquitaine. But Othman, or Manuza, was in no disposition to execute the order; he had seen with envy Abd ar-Rahman preferred to himself; and his marriage with one of the daughters of Eudes, duke of Aquitaine, whom he passionately loved, rendered him more eager to cultivate the friendship than to incur the hostility of the Franks. In this perplexity, Othman acquainted Eudes with the meditated assault, and thereby enabled that chief to meet it. Abd ar-Rahman instantly despatched a select body of troops under one of his confidential generals, to watch the movements, and, if necessary, to punish the treason, of Othman, who, with his beautiful princess, sought for safety in flight. He was overtaken in the Pyrenees, while resting during the heat of the day beside a fountain. His head was sent to the emir, and his bride to end her days in the harem of Damascus.

Abd ar-Rahman now commenced his momentous march, in the hope of carrying the banner of the prophet to the very shores of the Baltic. His progress spread dismay throughout Europe; and well it might, for so formidable and destructive an armament Europe had not seen since the days of Attila. Conflagrations, ruins, the shrieks of violated chastity, and the groans of the dying, rendered this memorable invasion more like the work of a demon than of a man. The flourishing towns of southern and central France, from Gascony to Burgundy, and from the Garonne to the Loire, were soon transformed into smoking heaps. In vain did Eudes strive to arrest the overpowering torrent, by disputing the passage of the Dordogne; his army was swept before it, and he himself was compelled to become a suppliant to his enemy the mayor of the Franks. That celebrated hero, Charles Martel,[199] whose actions, administration, and numerous victories commanded the just admiration of the times, was no less anxious to become the saviour of Christendom; but he knew too well the magnitude of the danger to meet it by premature efforts; and he silently collected in Belgium and in Germany the elements of resistance to the dreaded inundation. When his measures were taken, he boldly advanced at the head of his combined Franks, Belgians, Germans, etc., towards the enemy, who had just reduced Tours, and who was soon drawn up to receive him in the extended plain between that city and Poitiers. After six days’ skirmishing, both advanced to the shock. The contest was long and bloody; the utmost valour was displayed by the two armies, and the utmost ability by the two captains; but in the end, the impenetrable ranks, robust frames, and iron hands of the Germans turned the fortune of the day. When darkness arrived, an immense number of Saracen bodies, among which was that of Abd ar-Rahman himself, covered the plain. Still the misbelievers were formidable alike from their numbers and from their possible despair; and the victors remained in their tents, under arms, during the night. At break of day they prepared to renew the struggle; the white tents of the Arabs, extending as far as the eye could reach, appeared before them, but not a living creature came out to meet them. It was at length discovered that the enemy had abandoned their camp, their own wealth, and the immense plunder they had amassed; and had silently, though precipitately, withdrawn from the field. Christendom was saved; pope and monk, prince and peasant, in an ecstasy of grateful devotion, hastened to the churches, to thank heaven for a victory which, however dearly it had been purchased by the true servants of God, had inflicted so signal a blow on the misbelievers, that their return was no longer dreaded.

This far-famed victory, which was obtained in the year 732, spread consternation throughout the whole Mohammedan world. Fortunately for Christendom, the domestic quarrels of the Mussulmans themselves, the fierce struggles of their chiefs for the seat of the prophet, prevented them from universally arming to vindicate their faith and their martial reputation. Abdul-Malik ben Khotan was nominated by the African emir to succeed Abd ar-Rahman and to revenge the late disasters. The emir passed the Pyrenees; but a complete panic seemed to have seized on his followers, who soon retreated, but were pursued and destroyed. He was superseded by Okba ben al-Hajjaj. Feeling his mind and body alike exhausted by his harassing duties, he applied to the caliph for the restoration of Abdul-Malik.

The restored emir had little reason to congratulate himself on his good fortune. The restless barbarians of Mauretania again revolted, and defeated[200] and slew their governor who hastened to subdue them. The Syrians, under Thalaba ben Salama, and the Egyptians under Balej ben Besher, were expelled from the country, and induced to seek refuge in Spain. Their arrival boded no good to the tranquillity of the peninsula. Abdul-Malik tried negotiation in vain; the Africans invested him in his last hold, and the inhabitants hoping to obtain favour by his destruction, tied him to a post on the bridge of Cordova, and opened their gates to Balej. The unfortunate emir was speedily beheaded, and the inhuman victor tumultuously proclaimed the governor of the faithful.

Balej did not long enjoy his usurped honours. Offended at the preference thus shown to another, Thalaba unexpectedly became the advocate of subordination. At the same time the son of Okba rallied the dispersed troops of the murdered Abdul-Malik, and marched against the usurper. Balej fell, pierced by the scimitar of Abd ar-Rahman; the tyrant’s forces fled, and the victor was hailed by the honourable surname of Al-Mansur. Thalaba from his viceregal throne was removed to a dungeon in the fortress of Tangier. Husam was not destined to be more fortunate than his predecessors. He was deposed by Thueba.

During scenes of anarchy and of blood, there was a third party, which took no part in them, and which groaned over the disasters of this fertile land. It was agreed that the only means of ending the existing anarchy was to appoint an emir with sovereign power over the whole peninsula. After some deliberation the choice unanimously fell on Yusuf al-Fehri, of the tribe of Koreish, which was also that of the prophet. Yusuf was now compelled to enter on a ruinous civil war; and ruinous it was beyond example in this ill-fated country. To describe the horrors which ensued is impossible; it seemed as if one half of Spain had risen for no other purpose than that of exterminating the other half, and of transforming the whole country into a desert. Many cities, to say nothing of inferior towns and villages, disappeared forever from the face of the peninsula; leaving, however, melancholy mementos of their past existence in the ruins which remained.

Above forty years had now elapsed since the first descent of the Mohammedans; and in the whole of that period there had been but few intervals of tranquillity, or even of individual security. So mutable had been the government, that twenty different emirs had been called, or had raised themselves, to direct it. About eighty chiefs secretly assembled at Cordova; when, laying aside all private ambition, they consulted as to the means of ending the civil war. They were addressed by Hayut of Emessa, who reminded them of the recent usurpation of the Abbasids; of the consequent massacre of the Omayyads; and, what was still more melancholy, of the fatal divisions among the partisans of those families throughout the Mohammedan world, and of the anarchy which was the inevitable result of those divisions. These chiefs agreed to establish a separate, independent monarchy, but the main difficulty still remained. What individual could be found in whose claims a whole nation could be likely to acquiesce, and who possessed the requisites towards that nation’s prosperity? It was removed by Wahib ben Zair, whose interesting relation is thus abridged:

After the tragic massacre of the Omayyads, two sons of Merwan, the last caliph of that house, who had been so fortunate as to escape the destruction of their brethren, were foolish enough to reside at the court of Abul-Abbas, on his solemnly promising to spare their lives. Yielding at length to the repeated insinuations of a base spy, Abul-Abbas ordered their execution. Soliman, the eldest, was immediately taken and slain; but the other, Abd[201] ar-Rahman, who was fortunately absent from Damascus, was seasonably informed of this second tragedy. Hastily furnishing himself with horses and money, he commenced his flight from Syria. He chose the most unfrequented paths, and safely arrived among the Bedouin Arabs. From Arabia he passed through Egypt into Africa, where new dangers awaited him. After some days of a fatiguing journey through boundless plains of sand, he reached Tahart in Mauretania, by the inhabitants of which he was received with joy. “Abd ar-Rahman,” concluded Wahib, “still remains there; let him be our sovereign!”

The proposal of the sheikh was received with unanimous applause. Accompanied by Teman ben Al-Kama, he was instantly deputed by the assembly to pass over into Mauretania, and offer the crown to the princely descendant of Moawiyah. The prince immediately accepted the proposal. The youth of the whole tribe were eager to accompany him, but he selected 750 well-armed horsemen for this arduous expedition. Abd ar-Rahman landed on the coast of Andalusia in the early part of the year 755. The inhabitants of that province, sheikhs and people, received him with open arms, and made the air ring with their acclamations. His appearance, his station, his majestic mien, his open countenance, won upon the multitude even more perhaps than the prospect of the blessings which he was believed to have in store for them. His march to Seville was one continued triumph; twenty thousand voices cheered his progress; twenty thousand scimitars, wielded by vigorous hands, were at his disposal. The surrounding towns immediately sent deputies with their submission and the offer of their services. After a series of unsuccessful manœuvres, Yusuf fell in a battle near Lorca, and his head was sent by the victorious general to the king. According to the barbarous custom of the times, it was suspended from an iron hook over one of the public gates of Cordova. The very same year Narbonne fell into the power of the Christians, after a siege of six years. Gothic Gaul was now lost to the Moslems.

The peace which the monarch enjoyed was destined to prove of short duration. While he continued at Seville, indulging alike in poetry and friendship, he received intelligence of an insurrection at Toledo, by Hisham ben Adri al-Fehri, a relative of Yusuf. Hisham with some other generals fell into the hands of Bedra, who, in the fear of their being saved by the clemency of Abd ar-Rahman, immediately struck off their heads. But he was now menaced by an enemy more powerful than any which had yet assailed him; and one of the last perhaps he would ever have dreamed of opposing. This was no other than Charlemagne, who poured his legions over the Pyrenees into the valleys of Catalonia. He himself headed the division which passed into Navarre through Gascony, and his first conquest was the Christian city of Pamplona. The walls he levelled with the ground; and thence proceeded to Saragossa. That city quickly owned his supremacy; and so also, we are told, did Gerona, Huesca, and Barcelona, the government of which he confided to the sheikhs who had invited him into the peninsula, and had aided him with their influence. The whole country, from the Ebro to the Pyrenees, in like manner owned his authority. How far he might have carried his arms, had not the revolt of the Saxons summoned him to a more urgent scene, it would be useless to conjecture.

While in the defiles of the Pyrenees, between Roncesvalles and Valcarlos, his rear was furiously assailed by some thousands of Navarrese in ambush, who were justly indignant at the wanton destruction of their capital. That the injury inflicted on the emperor was serious, is apparent from the words of his own secretary, who tells us that the whole rearguard was cut to[202] pieces, including many of his generals and chief nobles; and that not only the riches amassed in the expedition, but the whole baggage of the army, fell into the hands of the victors. Scarcely had Charlemagne passed the Pyrenees, when Abd ar-Rahman recovered Saragossa and the other places, of which that monarch had received the submission, and which he had, probably, been sanguine enough to hope would continue to acknowledge his supremacy. But if Abd ar-Rahman was thus freed from so formidable an invader, he was still subject to the curse of domestic sedition.

During his long reign, Abd ar-Rahman had several transactions with the Christians of the Asturias. Under the viceroys his predecessors, the Mussulman arms had failed against both Pelayo and Alfonso I; but he was more successful. By Froila or Fruela I, indeed, one if not two of his generals were successively and signally defeated (760 and 761); but from the tenor of a treaty between the two kings, a treaty on which the early Christian writers preserve a deep silence, we may infer either that the Asturian ruler had sustained some reverse, or that he turned aside the storm of threatening vengeance by concessions.

Abd ar-Rahman died in 787. The chief features of his character were honour, generosity, and intrepidity, with a deeply rooted regard for the interests of justice and religion. His views, for a Mussulman, were enlightened, and his sentiments liberal. Misfortune had been his schoolmaster, and he profited by its lessons. He was an encourager of literature, as appears from the number of schools he founded and endowed; of poetry in particular he must have been fond, or he would not have cultivated it himself. In short, his highest praise is to be found in the fact that Mohammedan Spain wanted a hero and legislator to lay the first stone of her prosperity, and that she found both in him.

Hisham ben Abd ar-Rahman, surnamed Alhadi Radhi, the Just and the Good, was immediately proclaimed at Merida, whither he had accompanied his dying father; and his elevation was hailed by the acclamations of all Spain. The success with which Hisham crushed formidable insurrections of his two brothers roused within him the latent sparks of ambition. He now aspired to conquests not only in the Asturias, but in Gothic Gaul. He proclaimed the al-jihed, or holy war, which every Mussulman was bound to aid, if young, by personal service, if rich and advanced in years, by the contribution of horses, arms, or money. Two formidable armies were immediately put in motion; one thirty-nine thousand strong, which was headed by the hajib or prime minister, marched into the Asturias; the other, which was still more numerous, advanced towards the Pyrenees. The hajib laid waste all Galicia as far as Lugo, and obtained immense plunder; but Alfonso, surnamed the Chaste, had the glory of freeing the infant kingdom from the invaders. A second expedition, under the hajib’s son, was still more unfortunate. From this time may be dated the real independence of the Christians.

The success of the other army was not very signal; it made no conquests, but shortly returned across the Pyrenees laden with immense plunder. In the seventh year of his reign Hisham caused his son Al-Hakem to be recognised as his successor, and died a few months afterwards, in 796, universally lamented by his subjects. The reign of Al-Hakem was one of extreme agitation. Barcelona, and many other fortresses of Catalonia, acknowledged the supremacy of Charlemagne.

Whilst these transactions were passing in Catalonia, Alfonso the Chaste was naturally eager to profit by the division in his favour. To punish his[203] revolt in 801, Al-Hakem ravaged his eastern territories. But on the return of the Mohammedan king, who left Yusuf ben Amru to prosecute the war, the Asturian entirely routed the forces of that general, whom he took prisoner, and for whose ransom he exacted a heavy sum. This very fact proves that the two kings were now placed on an equal footing—that the ties of vassalage had been burst asunder by the Christian hero. In 808, Alfonso crossed the Duero, invaded Lusitania, and took Lisbon. Al-Hakem hastened to the theatre of war, and obtained some successes. Abd ar-Rahman, Al-Hakem’s son, defeated Alfonso on the banks of the Duero, took Zamora, and compelled that king to sue for peace. However, hostilities soon recommenced, but with little advantage to either party.

Internally the reign of Al-Hakem was no less troubled. Scarcely was the rebellion of his uncles repressed, when the tyranny of Yusuf ben Amru occasioned great disorders in Toledo. In 805, the inhabitants openly rose against the governor, whom they confined in prison. Al-Hakem invited the principal inhabitants—chiefly Mohammedans—to wait on the heir of the monarchy; but as they entered the palace, they were seized by his soldiers, were carried into a subterraneous apartment, and massacred. [More than seven hundred are said to have perished on this “day of the fosse” (807).] About the same time a conspiracy was formed in Cordova itself, the object of which was to assassinate Al-Hakem, and to raise a grandson of the first Abd ar-Rahman to the vacant throne. The fatal secret was revealed to the monarch’s ear. The very day on which this tragedy was to be perpetrated, three hundred gory heads were exhibited in the most public part of Cordova. Had his own been there, instead of them, no public sorrow would have been manifested.

This incident was not likely to assuage his appetite for blood—an appetite which is believed to have been innate in his temperament, though education and circumstances had hitherto suspended its cravings. Commensurate with its increasing intensity was his passion for luxury. He no longer delighted in reaping “the iron harvests of the field.” Shut up in his palace with his female slaves, amidst the sweetest sounds of vocal and instrumental music, or witnessing the lascivious dance, he passed the whole of his time. If, however, his person was thus hidden from the eyes of his people, his existence was but too evident from the execution of his sanguinary mandates. That he might enjoy the pleasures without the cares of royalty, in the year 815 he caused his son Abd ar-Rahman to receive the homage of his chiefs as the wali alhadi, or successor to the throne, and on the shoulders of that prince he thenceforth laid the whole weight of government. But tyrants often tremble, as well as their oppressed subjects. To escape assassination, or the consequences of an open insurrection, he filled or surrounded his palace with a chosen guard of five thousand men, whose fidelity he secured by permanent liberal pay. To meet this extraordinary increase of expenditure, he laid an entrance duty on the merchandise which arrived in the capital. This measure excited indignation, not so much because it was oppressive as because it was novel; murmurs arose on every side, and even an open insurrection appeared certain. To crush it by terror, he ordered ten men who had refused to pay the duty to be publicly executed.

A trivial accident, however, acting like a spark on the present inflammable spirit of the people, produced a general explosion; the guards of the ten prisoners were massacred; a few who wisely fled were pursued to the very gates of the palace, the multitude uttering terrific menaces against the author and advisers of so odious a novelty. The desire of vengeance roused the king[204] from his unworthy lethargy. Seizing his arms, and followed by the cavalry of his guard, he charged the mob, which, as mobs always will do, endeavoured to escape when real danger approached. In a few minutes the streets of Cordova were strewn with dead bodies; such as could reach their habitations were safe; about three hundred were overtaken on the banks of the river, and were instantly impaled. But the effects did not end here; the numerous streets outside the walls of the city were levelled with the ground, and the surviving inhabitants were pardoned only on the condition of leaving Cordova forever. With loud lamentations, the unhappy exiles departed from the scene of their former happiness; a considerable number settled in Toledo; eight thousand accepted the asylum offered them by Edris ben Edris in his new city of Fez, and the quarter where they settled is at this day called the Andalusian quarter. The fate of the far greater portion was more singular; fifteen thousand proceeded to Egypt, seized on Alexandria, and there maintained themselves in spite of all opposition, until the wali, by the caliph’s permission, purchased their departure by a large sum of money, and by allowing them to reside on one of the isles of Greece. They chose Crete, and founded an independent government [which lasted till 961 when the Greeks recaptured it]. From this moment Al-Hakem, who acquired the surname of the Cruel, was torn by incessant remorse. In 821 he breathed his last.

Abd ar-Rahman II had long made himself beloved, both in a private capacity and as the deputy of his father; happiness was as much hoped from his reign, and as much was it alloyed by many misfortunes. The first was the hostile arrival of his great uncle, Abdallah, son of Abd ar-Rahman I, who, though on the verge of the tomb, resolved to strike another blow for empire. He was speedily defeated. A salutary law was now passed, defining the right of succession to be inherent in the children of the natural monarch, according to their primogeniture; and, where the direct heirs subsisted, excluding the other branches of the family.

In his transactions with the Christians of the Asturias and Catalonia, Abd ar-Rahman was more fortunate than his two predecessors. He did not allow either Alfonso or Ramiro to gain much advantage over him. Three armies of Franks successively appeared in Spain, but effected nothing; while a Mohammedan fleet burned the suburbs of Marseilles. Nor was the kingdom of Abd ar-Rahman free from internal troubles. Merida twice revolted; Toledo followed the example, and sustained a blockade of nine years against the royal forces.

Scarcely were these domestic wounds closed, when a new and unexpected enemy appeared on the coast of Lusitania. The Scandinavian vikings, in[205] fifty-four vessels, had spread terror along the maritime districts of France and the peninsula. These savage northmen landed wherever there was a prospect of booty; plundered towns and churches; consumed with fire everything which they could not remove; and put to the sword all, of every age and of either sex, who had the misfortune to fall in their way. In short, from the terrific descriptions given of them both in the Icelandic sagas and the Christian writers of the south, we should suppose them to have been demons rather than men. Thirteen days they assailed Lisbon, and that place would have fallen but for the seasonable march of the neighbouring walis to relieve it. The pirates re-embarked with their booty; landed on the coasts of Lusitania and Algarve, which they ravaged; and ultimately destroyed a great part of Seville. Such was their reputation for valour, that their retreat was seldom molested. To rebuild the ruined walls was the immediate work of the king, and to be prepared for resistance, in the event of future piratical descents, he established a line of forts from the principal seaports to his capital, with facilities for communicating rapidly with one another. To add to these internal calamities, a drought of two years withered the productions of the earth; or if anything was spared by the heat, it was devoured by clouds of locusts.

These sufferings of his people must sensibly have afflicted the heart of Abd ar-Rahman; and he endeavoured to relieve them by importing corn from Africa, and by furnishing the unemployed with occupation. The works which he constructed in that city were of equal magnificence and utility. Mosques were erected; the streets paved; marble baths made for the convenience of the men; and, the most important of all his enterprises, water in abundance was brought from the mountains to the city by means of leaden pipes. Abd ar-Rahman was a man of letters as well as a man of science. In 850 he caused his son Muhammed to be acknowledged wali alhadi. In 852 he died, universally lamented by his people.

The reign of Muhammed I contains little to strike the attention. He was always at war, either with the Asturians or his own subjects. Ramiro, Ordoño, and Alfonso III successively defeated his best troops, and gradually enlarged their dominions. He was ultimately more successful in his contests with his subjects than with his natural enemies. Of the difficulty, however, with which this success was obtained, Musa ben Zeyad, the wali of Saragossa, and Omar, a bandit chief, afford us abundant proof. Omar escaped into the Pyrenees, and offered his services to the Navarrese; gained them many fortresses, and received from them the title of king. He conquered the whole country as far as the Ebro. The king in person, with his son Al-Mundhir, and his best officers, hastened to the field. Omar was defeated and slain. But the rebels were not yet annihilated. Kalib ben Omar, who with the title inherited the warlike spirit of his father, was destined to greater things, and laid waste or rendered tributary the country on the banks of the Ebro. Al-Mundhir advanced to measure arms with the son of his old enemy; but a whole year elapsed before he could gain any advantage over Kalib. If to these agitating scenes we add a drought of a year’s duration, the third which had visited Spain within the short period of twenty years; an earthquake which swallowed several towns, and another invasion of the Normans, some idea may be formed of the disasters of this reign.

The death of Muhammed was sudden. No sooner did Kalib ben Omar hear of Muhammed’s death than he descended from his mountains, was joined by thousands of partisans, and was successful beyond his most sanguine hopes. Huesca, Saragossa, and Toledo opened their gates to him.[206] The whole kingdom was in consternation or in joy, according to the loyalty or disaffection of the people. It is certain that the new king, Al-Mundhir, had not many friends, and those few he soon lost. In the second year of his reign he fell in battle with the formidable Kalib.

The reign of Abdallah, the brother and successor of Al-Mundhir, was destined to be as troubled as any of his predecessors. One of the first revolts was headed by his eldest son Muhammed. He was joined by his brother Al-Kasim; but he was defeated by his younger brother Abd ar-Rahman, was severely wounded in battle, and was consigned to a dungeon by the victor, until the king’s pleasure could be known. There he died, whether in consequence of his wounds, or by violence, is uncertain. But the greatest affliction of the king was the continued triumph of the rebel Kalib.

On the death of Abdallah, the throne of Mohammedan Spain was filled by Abd ar-Rahman III, son of the rebel prince Muhammed, who had so mysteriously died in prison, and, therefore, grandson of Abdallah. Why the deceased king did not procure the elevation of his own son Abd ar-Rahman, surnamed Al-Mudafar, or the Victorious, surprised many, but grieved none. By universal acclamation the new king was hailed as Emir al-muminin, or prince of the believers, and An-Nasir lidini-l-lahi, defender of the faith of God. It is difficult to account for the yielding of this spiritual homage to the young prince; but the fact is certain that he was the first of his family to assume the title and honours of caliph.

After labouring with success to pacify the partisans of the Abbasids, who at first regarded his assumption of the spiritual character as little less than blasphemous, Abd ar-Rahman resolved to exterminate the audacious rebels who had so long distracted the kingdom. The son of Omar ben Hafs still reigned at Toledo over nearly one-half of Mohammedan Spain. To contend with this formidable adventurer, Abd ar-Rahman assembled a select military force of forty thousand men, and took the field. In the end victory declared for the king; seven thousand of the rebel and three thousand of the royal forces were left on the field. The consequences of this success were important; the whole of eastern Spain submitted to Abd ar-Rahman. Kalib himself long held out against the power of Abd ar-Rahman.

The pacification of his kingdom allowed Abd ar-Rahman leisure to dream of ambition, which opportunity seasonably aided. He came into conflict with the ruler of Egypt, over Fez, which he finally cleared of the Egyptians. But the most memorable of the warlike exploits of this king were against the Christians of Leon and the Asturias. Soon after the accession of Abd ar-Rahman, Ordoño II invaded the Mohammedan possessions, and, if any faith is to be had in the chroniclers of his nation, he obtained many advantages—advantages, however, of which not the slightest mention is made by the Mohammedan writers. In short, from the accession of Ordoño to some time after that of Ramiro II, not one of the successes derived by the Christians is acknowledged by the Moors.

From the conflicting statements of the two hostile writers, it appears certain that in 934 Ramiro II made an irruption into the states of Abd ar-Rahman, and ruined Madrid, and that the king of Cordova, in revenge, sent Almudafar to invade Galicia. That hero, say the historians of his nation, made terrible reprisals on the subjects of Ramiro, thousands of whom he brought away captive, with an immense booty, and defeated Ramiro himself on the banks of the Duero. The Christians, on the other hand, tell us that their hero triumphed over the misbelievers on the plains of Osma (which is on the banks of that river), of whom he slew a great number, and made many[207] thousands of captives. Abd ar-Rahman advanced to meet him with eighty thousand men. The combat [of Alhandega] which ensued was the most obstinate, and beyond comparison the most bloody, that had been fought between Christians and Moors since the days of Roderic. There can be no doubt that victory shone on the banners of the Christians, notwithstanding the assertion of the Mohammedan writers, who say that Ramiro was driven from the field. But that the success was so splendid as the Christians pretend, that eighty thousand of the Moors fell on this memorable day, is too monstrous to be believed. According to the Arabian writers, that number only—yet it is surely large enough—left Zamora, twenty thousand out of the original one hundred thousand remaining to invest that fortress. And if their account is to be credited—and the minute circumstances attending it give it all the air of truth—Abd ar-Rahman took the fortress on his return to Cordova.

During the rest of don Ramiro’s reign one battle only is said by the Christians to have been fought between the Moors and him, in which he was of course victorious. But if the Mohammedans are to be believed, that hero was defeated in 941 by Abdallah, wali of the frontier; and again in 949 by Abd ar-Rahman in person.

In his internal administration Abd ar-Rahman was distinguished for great capacity of mind, for unbounded liberality, for unrivalled magnificence, and for inflexible justice. The foundation of the palace and town of Medina-Azhara, about two leagues from Cordova—the former distinguished for all the splendour of art and wealth, the latter for a mosque which rivalled that of Cordova—attested his taste and luxury. The roof of the palace is said to have been supported by above four thousand pillars of variegated marble, the floors and walls to have been of the same costly material, the chief apartments to have been adorned with exquisite fountains and baths; and the whole to have been surrounded by the most magnificent gardens, in the midst of which arose a pavilion resting on pillars of white marble ornamented with gold, and commanding an extensive prospect. In the centre of the pavilion, a fountain of quicksilver, we are told, constantly played, reflecting in a new and wondrous manner the rays of the sun. The whole description reminds us rather of the creations of genii than of the labours of man. Of the justice of this great king the Mohammedan world had a fearful example in the fate of his son Abdallah. Many years before his death he caused his second son, Al-Hakem, to be recognised as wali alhadi. The choice gave umbrage to Abdallah, who at length entered into a conspiracy, the object of which seems to have been the assassination or perpetual imprisonment of Al-Hakem. The secret was betrayed by one of the number; Abdallah was suddenly arrested, confessed his meditated crime, and was suffocated, notwithstanding the entreaties of his intended victim Al-Hakem. “Thy humane request,” replied the king, “becomes thee well, and if I were a private individual it should be granted; but as a king, I owe both to my people and my successors an example of justice; I deeply lament the fate of my son; I shall lament it through life; but neither thy tears nor my grief shall save him!” The king seems ever afterwards to have blamed his excessive rigour. Though at the very summit of human prosperity, he was thenceforth unhappy. Accordingly, we need not be surprised to hear his own confession that during near fifty years of empire, his days of happiness amounted to no more than fourteen.

The reign of Abd ar-Rahman III has been termed the most brilliant period in the history of the Spanish Arabs.d

[208]

Among the Omayyad princes of Spain Abd ar-Rahman III incontestably holds the first place. His achievements bordered on the fabulous. He had found the empire in a state of anarchy and civil war, divided amongst a crowd of chiefs of different race, exposed to constant raids from the Christians of the north, and on the verge of being absorbed either by Leon or by the Fatimites. In spite of innumerable obstacles he had saved Andalusia both from itself and from foreign rule. He had given to it internal order and prosperity and the consideration and respect of foreigners. He found the treasury in disorder; he left it in the most flourishing condition. A third of the annual revenues, which amounted to 6,245,000 pieces of gold, sufficed for the ordinary expenditure; another third was kept as a reserve; the rest was devoted to buildings. The condition of the country was equally prosperous. Agriculture, industry, commerce, the arts and sciences, flourished together. The foreigner was lost in wonder at the scientific system of irrigation, which gave fertility to lands that appeared most unpromising. He was struck by the perfect order which, thanks to a vigilant police, reigned in the most inaccessible districts. Commerce had developed to such an extent that, according to the report of the superintendent of the customs, the duties on imports and exports constituted the most considerable part of the revenue. A superb navy enabled Abd ar-Rahman to dispute with the Fatimites the empire of the Mediterranean, and secured him in the possession of Ceuta, the key of Mauretania. A numerous and well-disciplined army, perhaps the best in the world, gave him a preponderance over the Christian of the north. The most haughty sovereigns were eager for his alliance. Ambassadors were sent to him by the emperor of Constantinople and by the sovereigns of Germany, Italy, and France.e

Leaving for a while the Spanish Arabs, now at the height of their power, we return to the Mohammedans in the East.a

FOOTNOTES

---

[209]

CHAPTER VIII. THE ABBASIDS

The revolution which had raised the Abbasids to the caliphate may be regarded as an uprising of eastern against western Asia; it was the populations of Khorasan and Irak who had brought it about, and it was they whom it chiefly benefited. Abul Abbas, who reigned but four years (750-754) transferred the royal residence from Syria to Babylonia and took up his abode at Anbar. His brother and successor Al-Mansur, desiring a more imposing dwelling-place, at first chose Cufa, but finding that popular feeling ran high there against his own family, and in favour of the Fatimites, he decided to build for himself a new city which should owe entire allegiance to him.

FOUNDING OF BAGHDAD (762 A.D.)

Thus he founded Baghdad (762), which was destined to eclipse all other cities of the Orient. A brick wall strengthened by about 160 towers defended it from attack, and immense sums were spent in its embellishment. The people of the East regarded with satisfaction this change of capital which brought the seat of government nearer to themselves; but the inhabitants of Spain and Maghreb, already discontented with their isolated situation which made them in a way mere tributary provinces, were only awaiting a favourable opportunity to declare their independence.

Upon learning of the downfall of the Omayyads and the ascension of the Abbasids, Spain immediately cut herself loose from the mother-country and proclaimed as caliph a member of the Omayyad family, who chanced to be in Maghreb. Africa, without going so far, appeared to approve the course of its governor, Abd ar-Rahman, who hesitated to recognise the sovereignty of Al-Mansur; and the people, equally unwilling to acknowledge the caliphate of Cordova, gradually broke up into distinct groups each having its own chief, until the fragile ties which still bound them to the Abbasid dynasty were completely severed (755-756 A.D.).

[210]

The period of the first Abbasid caliphs was also that of the greatest splendour in the history of the oriental Arabs; it marked the passing of the age of conquest and the dawning of the new glories of civilisation. Al-Mansur, brother of Abul Abbas, whose reign was short, in reality opens the series of those remarkable caliphs whose names, still popular in Arabia, have been made equally so in other lands by The Thousand and One Nights. He had fought when young under the chiefs of his family and merited the name “Victorious” which had been bestowed upon him; but his principal claim to glory lies in having created a system of government which attests the depth and soundness of his views. Throughout his vast empire the finance and military forces of the provinces were under the control of the different governors, who devoted the products of taxation to supplying the needs of their localities and sent to the caliphs only what was left over. Not daring to disturb a condition of things so favourable to the people, Al-Mansur instituted the method of frequently changing the representatives of the royal power in the provinces, and of debarring all members of distinguished families from taking part in the transaction of public affairs. His greatest error was an insufficient regard for the sanctity of his word, and a relentless abasement of any servant whose rising greatness seemed to involve a menace. Thus Abdallah, the overthrower of the Omayyads, Abu Muslim, and later the Barmecides, all fell victims to a policy as pitiless as it was suspicious.

Al-Mansur devoted a portion of his life to amassing wealth which some historians estimate to have reached a sum equivalent to £30,000,000, or $150,000,000, but this avidity did not prevent his displaying great liberality towards men of learning, and he himself gave the example of an enlightened interest in the arts and sciences.

During his reign the people, accustomed to rendering him the profound respect he demanded, grew to look upon the caliph as the representative of God on earth, and his successors had no difficulty in enforcing obedience. Nay, they were rather concerned to avoid the despotism made easy by their unlimited authority. The first caliphs after Abul Abbas were just princes, who exerted their power for the general and intellectual welfare of the Arabs. Other cities arose beside Baghdad; roads were laid, caravansaries, market-places, canals, and fountains were constructed, learned and charitable institutions were erected, and the study of letters, commerce, and all the arts of peace were directly fostered by the government.

HARUN AR-RASHID (786-809 A.D.)

The magnificence of all previous reigns paled before that of Harun ar-Rashid,[40] Harun the Just (786-809). This famous potentate, in whom the peculiar genius of the Arab race seems to have reached its highest development, merits particular mention among the vicegerents of Mohammed. Brave, generous, and magnanimous, he resisted all temptations to use despotically his supreme power over a people who never murmured at his will, and governed with a sole view to assuring the happiness of his subjects. He loved virtue, was always ready to recognise his own faults, and neglected no occasion of doing good. That he so far belied his character as to decree the murder of the Barmecides shows him to have been deceived by false statements concerning that family, which had furnished him with his ablest[211] statesmen, Fadl and the grand vizier Jafar. Of Persian origin, the Barmecides had figured prominently at court for nearly a century, and it was chiefly at the instigation of their later representatives that Harun ar-Rashid was so active in protecting commerce, industry, and the arts. Singularly enough Emin, Harun’s eldest son, possessed none of the virtues of his father; but his brother, Al-Mamun, showed profound wisdom in governing the affairs of Khorasan and by popular choice he was placed upon the throne in 813, Emin being made to resign his authority.

AL-MAMUN AND HIS SUCCESSORS

Al-Mamun surpassed all hopes that had been formed of him. Less brilliant than Harun, he was superior to him in the range of his knowledge and the practical force of his genius. The single political mistake with which he can be reproached was an act of gratitude and kindness. In recompense for services received, he gave to Tahir the hereditary governorship of Khorasan, and this was the first step towards the dismemberment of the eastern caliphate; not because the Tahirites were disposed to abuse their power, but because an unfortunate example had been set, which led the governors of provinces to seek gradually to cut themselves free from the control of their rightful sovereign.

Holding education to be the highest blessing of the people, Al-Mamun opened schools in all parts of his realm, and insured the pursuit of letters by permanent endowments. He gathered about him learned men of all nationalities, and would admit no distinctions in religion. He even decreed that any ten heads of families, whether Christians, Jews, or magi, who assembled for the purpose, could constitute a church, and that all were eligible to appointment for public offices. But, liberal as he was, Al-Mamun was not always safe from hostile attack. The theologians of Baghdad had already been active in putting down zendism, a religion compounded of the beliefs of Islam and the magi; and on Al-Mamun’s making use of some of the writings of this faith to render odious the memory of Abu Muslim, they brought violent accusations against him. To silence his adversaries Al-Mamun increased the penalties against separatism, but true to his principles of tolerance forbore to inflict them.

Al-Mamun’s immediate successors, Mutasim and Wathik, were worthy of the throne. The first-named made the single mistake of forming his body-guard of young Turks, whose later successors were to renew the excesses committed by the prætorians in the time of the Roman emperors; while the reign of Wathik was disturbed solely by doctrinal disputes. Great indeed must have been the diversity of opinion in religious matters, since there are to be counted no less than sixty-three principal sects among the Arabs. Wathik having brought the light of his reason to bear on the dogma of the eternity of the Koran, sustained with great heat by Akhmed ben Nasr, was at one time on the point of being dethroned and supplanted by his rude antagonist. Although treated with severity by prejudiced historians, Wathik was an excellent prince, who governed his realm with such wisdom and benevolence that it soon came to contain no beggars, and he died with the resignation of a firm, enlightened character.

The reigns of the earlier Abbasids are marked by a complete absence of expeditions undertaken with a view to aggrandisement, the wars with neighbouring populations being carried on without any thought of invasion. The[212] Greeks offered the Arabs of the Orient more frequent pretexts for dispute than other nations, and the frontier line which separated them became the scene of many sanguinary conflicts. The vanity of the degenerate Greeks who constituted the population there, was inordinately flattered by success even in border-warfare, and they continued their aggressions through the reigns of most of Abul Abbas’ successors.

During the reign of Al-Mansur the Byzantine emperors had been afflicted by the loss of Melitene, an important city of Cappadocia, the devastation of Cilicia, and the defeat of an army on the shores of the Melas, in Pamphylia, and were destined to suffer further reverses at the hands of the caliph himself. Irritated by successive defeats, the Arabs got together all their forces and entered Asia Minor, where they vanquished all the troops that Irene, guardian of Constantine Copronymus, sent against them, and finally appeared before the walls of Constantinople. Preferring capitulation to the horrors of a siege, the empress surrendered the cities of Cilicia and agreed to pay an annual tribute of sixty thousand dinars. Harun ar-Rashid, whom Al-Mahdi had placed in command of this expedition, returned to Syria with considerable booty and with six thousand prisoners in his train.

In 792 Irene believed herself strong enough to break the treaty, and preparations for hostilities were begun on both sides. Harun, now become caliph, had vessels equipped which ravaged the islands of the Mediterranean and destroyed the Greek fleet in the Gulf of Adalia, making Irene pay dearly for her attempt at rebellion. She again agreed to pay tribute, stipulating merely an exchange of captives; which exchange took place on the bank of a little river in Cilicia, and was ever afterward a custom when a truce occurred between belligerents. Nicephorus, Irene’s successor, confident in his courage, hesitated not to tempt fortune again.

He addressed a haughty letter to the caliph, which elicited this brief reply: “In the name of the all-merciful God, Harun ar-Rashid, commander of the faithful, to Nicephorus, dog of a Roman. I have received your letter, son of an infidel, and you shall not hear my reply, you shall see it.” Harun indeed wrote his reply in letters of fire all over the plains of Asia Minor. He was constantly victorious; but, though the wars in which he was engaged proved that the Arabs had not yet lost their military skill, they showed that they had greatly deteriorated from the standard of the generals of Omar, who would not have paused till they reached Constantinople itself.

In 829 the war was resumed under a singular pretext. Al-Mamun, who was a passionate lover of mathematics, learned that Leon, an adept in that science, resided at Constantinople, and made known his desire to consult him at Baghdad. The emperor refused to allow Leon to leave Constantinople, and Al-Mamun again took up arms, but did not push the war with great vigour. In 833, after Mutasim had come to the throne, the emperor,[213] encouraged by some slight Greek successes, in his turn took the offensive, and for a long time the issues were about even between the two rulers. At last after the taking of Zapetra, the caliph’s native town (836), by the emperor, Mutasim swore to be revenged; and marching on Amorium took the city (840) and subjected it to the same treatment as had been inflicted on Zapetra. Wathik, Mutasim’s successor, was less bent on war; but the Greeks continued hostilities until, under the emperor Basil, they regained all the domains in Cilicia that Harun had taken from them.

In their western provinces the Abbasids displayed no great eagerness or concern; they scarcely sought to hold Spain under their sway, and left Africa almost entirely to itself, even serving by their own direct acts to elevate the family of the Aghlabites, and free it from all allegiance to themselves except the formal recognition of sovereignty. Ibrahim ben Aghlab thus assumed governorship over all Maghreb; but his successors were not able to prevent a member of the Alid family from severing from the Baghdad caliphate the whole of western Mauretania.

BAGHDAD UNDER THE CALIPHS

The Abbasids hoped, perhaps, that the divisions which could not fail to arise in Spain would bring the peninsula again under their dominion; and this anticipation will serve to explain their negotiations with the Frankish kings, the embassies and presents that passed back and forth between Harun ar-Rashid and Charlemagne. The Baghdad caliphate, meanwhile, did not once take up arms against that of Cordova, though Arabs from the peninsula had made incursions into their domains, and a fleet, manned by Andalusian pirates, had taken and burned Alexandria, putting the inhabitants to the sword. In thus abstaining from reprisals and warlike enterprises the Abbasids yielded to the spirit of the times. The Arabs of the East were beginning to appreciate the benefits of civilisation; and the Baghdad rulers responded to the wishes of their subjects by giving them an orderly system of administration, by establishing strict justice, by distributing far and wide the advantages of education, and by cementing the union between the different provinces of the empire by means of closer commercial and industrial relations.

A chamber of finance and a state chancery had originally been instituted, and for a time these had been deemed sufficient; but later the chamber of finance had been replaced by four diwans, one of which was charged specially with the payment of troops, another with the imposition of taxes, a third with the appointment of subordinate officials, and the fourth with the keeping of accounts. The Abbasids had added to this organisation the office of hajid, a sort of chamberlain whose mission was to introduce ambassadors, and that of a superior judge, who was to relieve them of the care of deciding important cases that were appealed from the judgment of the kadi.

Upon their accession to power the Abbasids had resolved to give more unity and force to the administration; and as the burden of affairs was really too heavy for one man to carry, they had attached to their persons a vizir (bearer of burdens) whose duty it was to perform all preliminary labours, and to fix the sum each province was to pay in taxes, so that the amount of the state revenues could be approximately estimated in advance. In imposing taxes the caliphs were guided by a verse in the Koran which ordained that every unbeliever residing in Moslem territory should be subject to dues; the rate per capita for the entire population was graded according[214] to the fortune of the individual, the rich paying more than the poor. There were also certain ground-taxes and tithes, in the assessment of which great opportunities for extortion were open to provincial governors, and the need that the whole should be under the oversight of some vigilant head became plainly apparent.

The flourishing state of finances under their rule enabled the Abbasids to undertake many and important works. Al-Mahdi built caravansaries and had cisterns dug along the weary road from Baghdad to Mecca, cut a new route from Mecca to Medina, and established posting stations between Hedjaz and Yemen that communication might be easy between the two important provinces. From a period as early as that of Moawiyah, a courier service had existed between the various Arab capitals.

The Abbasids also permanently endowed a number of mosques and schools, which were thus enabled to subsist through all political revolutions. They collected the archives of the caliphate in Baghdad, and organised in that city an excellent police, which not only protected individuals but watched over property night and day. The merchants themselves were formed into syndicate bodies with the charge of guarding against commercial frauds, and a supervisor of market-places was appointed to verify the weights and measures used, and his soldiers dealt summary justice to all found guilty of trickery. In the desert districts, too, pillage and depredation had been again begun by the Bedouins, now that warlike expeditions had ceased, and miraje were appointed whose special office it was to protect pilgrims and caravans on their way to Mecca.

In this manner the Abbasid caliphs strove to insure the prosperity of their realm, and under them the Arabs rose to a high degree of civilisation. With the same ardour that had characterised them in their military undertakings, they now endeavoured to outstrip the Greeks in commerce, industry, and the arts, excelling in those very branches of letters and sciences in which the inhabitants of Constantinople, even in that city’s decadence, believed themselves to be supreme.

Agriculture was widely practised; by a skilful system of cultivation the merit and reputation of the fruits and flowers of Persia were greatly enhanced, and the wines of Shiraz, Yed, and Ispahan became staples of commerce throughout Asia. Mines of iron, lead, and other minerals were carefully exploited, beautiful fabrics were manufactured in the cities of Irak and Syria, and remarkable progress was made in every branch of mechanical art. The sciences, letters, and decorative art were actively cultivated, as were architecture and music; while, though a check was placed upon sculpture and painting in their highest form by the Koran, which forbade the reproduction of the human figure or that of the Godhead, a number of magnificent monuments were erected in the cities of Mesopotamia and Mawarannahar. The passion for letters displayed by Europeans during the Renaissance scarcely equalled that of the Arabs at this period. The best Greek writings brought from Constantinople were immediately translated, a school of interpreters was opened at Baghdad, and fifteen thousand dinars were devoted yearly to educational institutions. Libraries were founded, and enlarged from century to century by the ruling princes, and the Arab tongue became the universal language of Asia, gradually supplanting the more ancient idioms. There were hospitals, wherein physicians were obliged to submit to several examinations before being allowed to practise their profession, and laboratories for experiment with medicinal plants, of which several had been recently discovered. The Arabs were, in fact, the[215] creators of modern chemistry, and though they erred in leaning too much toward alchemy and astrology, their very errors indirectly contributed to the progress of the science.

Great as was the contrast between the literary culture of the Arabs and the profound ignorance of Europe during the Middle Ages, the luxury and magnificence displayed by the Abbasid dynasty forms a no less curious spectacle. Sole depositaries of the natural wealth of many and vast provinces, and without a permanent army to support, they disposed freely of enormous revenues, which were expended in a truly fabulous manner. Gold and precious stones were fairly strewn through palaces, mosques, and gardens, and the gifts lavished on friends and favourites reached a stupendous amount. It is said that Al-Mahdi expended six millions of dinars during a single pilgrimage to Mecca, and that Zobaida, the wife of Harun, made use of no utensils save golden ones set with gems, and wore no stuffs save those woven with silver threads. In Al-Mamun’s palace were sixty thousand rugs and pieces of tapestry, many of which were embroidered in gold; and on the occasion of the reception of a Greek ambassador, he caused to be erected in the audience chamber a tree of solid gold bearing pearls to represent fruit. Mutasim’s stables in Samara were said to contain accommodation for a hundred thousand horses; and when he founded that city, he had the entire site artificially constructed without regard to the cost of so gigantic an undertaking.

GRADUAL DECLINE OF ARABIAN DOMINION IN THE EAST

Charlemagne, having heard much of the power of the Baghdad sovereigns, determined to enter into relations with them, and despatched one Jewish deputy and two Franks to Irak with presents for the commander of the faithful. Harun, who feared an alliance between the Frankish king and the Omayyads of Spain, responded with alacrity to this advance, and sent ambassadors with splendid presents to Charlemagne in return. Not only in Europe, but in China and among the Hindus and the Tatars, the Arab potentates were looked upon as the richest princes in the world, and exaggerated ideas prevailed as to their power.

Indeed at a casual glance it might seem that centralisation had drawn into unity all their various provinces, and that a long and prosperous future lay before the nation; but to an observant eye the signs of approaching decadence were already apparent. In the material order of things, that a sovereign should have supreme rights over the property of his subjects necessarily destroys all impulse towards emulation and progress among the latter. A people so governed is bound to die out in discouragement and decay. Under the earlier caliphs no injustice or spoliation was to be feared; but when the brutal and astute Turks took the reins of power, the law of the Koran, by which supreme authority centred in one individual, the representative of God on earth, was certain to work irreparable harm. In the moral and religious order the same unfortunate conditions prevailed. Gifted minds, irresistibly drawn towards science while still bound by the letter of Mohammed’s books, had need of a deliverer who should free them from the yoke of principles too rigid for the times. Al-Mamun, and after him Mutasim and Wathik, attempted some modification of doctrines formed for primitive times, but their efforts were set at naught by the blind obstinacy of the doctors of the Moslem faith. The Koran now being established as the direct[216] word of God, its laws were held to be beyond appeal, and all the prerogatives of absolute despotism were still accorded to monarchy even against the judgment of those in whom it was vested. If the later Abbasid princes had been men of high attainments and solid virtue, they would doubtless have wielded their unrestricted power entirely for the good of the people, and the golden age might again have been ushered in; but unfortunately during the second half of the ninth century we see on the throne only crowned and sceptred slaves. The contempt they inspired broke the springs of government; anarchy reached its height, and numerous factions, long suppressed, took up arms once more and spread abroad disorder and dread.

The Alids had several times renewed their pretensions to the throne. Once Al-Mamun was on the point of abdicating in their favour, thus recognising the justice of their claims; but a revolt was immediately raised in Baghdad by the house of Abbas and its partisans, which forced Al-Mamun to relinquish the idea of dispossessing his whole family. Though their ambition was not yet fulfilled, the Alids were emboldened by the caliph’s attitude toward them, and henceforth lost no chance of profiting by the divisions that necessarily arose in a state possessing no definite law of succession.

Under Harun and Al-Mamun the Arabian empire in the East attained its greatest degree of splendour; we shall now observe its gradual dissolution.

From the reign of Wathik (846) onwards, we see the caliphate becoming the sport and prey of anarchy, and Baghdad fell under the yoke of a series of cruel or implacable despots. Mutawakkil, whose reign ushered in the new order of things, was guilty of atrocities that surpass those of Nero. He took vengeance on a vizir who had offended him by causing him to be thrown into a furnace lined with points of steel; and fearing that a plot was being formed against him, he invited to a festival all the important officers of his court and had them massacred by his soldiery. The horror which his cruelties inspired armed against him the hand of his own son, Muntasir, who himself died of sorrow and remorse within a year of his accession to the throne (862).

Mustain, grandson of Mutasim, was chosen to succeed him, to the exclusion of four brothers, two of whom, Mutazz and Mutamid, subsequently came to the throne. Mustain reigned little longer than three years, and was replaced by Mutazz, whom a faction raised to the caliphate in 866. A second faction deposed him in 869 and a son of Wathik, Muhtadi Billah by name, was proclaimed caliph. This prince’s projects of reform aroused hatred in many quarters, and he was murdered in his own palace. After him Mutamid enjoyed the exceptionally long reign of twenty-two years (870-892), thanks to the ability and devotion of his brother, Muwaffak, who frustrated all attempts at revolt. Most of the perpetual disorders from which the country suffered were caused by the Turks whom Mutasim had raised to the position of body-guard. In permanent garrison at Baghdad, and in close proximity to the person of the sovereign, these slaves had from the first been guilty of such excesses that Mutasim was obliged to leave the capital and retire to the little village of Samara. Their number and influence had constantly increased during the reign of Wathik, and at the time of his death they had become such a power in the state that they had no difficulty in placing Mutawakkil on the throne.

The danger that can arise from the establishment of alien bodies, organised to be the instrument of the will of a sovereign who is himself the first[217] victim, is plainly apparent. With interests distinct from those of the native Arabs, and subject to no control save that of the caliph himself, these unruly Turks made brute force the agent by which they obtained their desires. They became accomplices of the parricide Muntasir out of revenge for some slight suffered at his father’s hands, and forced him to exclude his brothers and appoint Mustain to the throne. A delay in the distribution of their pay was sufficient to excite a revolt, and oblige the caliph to sign his abdication. Muhtadi met with a still sorrier fate for having desired to subject his redoubtable body-guard to some sort of discipline; and Muwaffak’s only means of diverting them from dangerous enterprises at home was to employ them on distant missions.

The troubles which surrounded the caliphate in Baghdad wrought the most serious consequences throughout the empire. The governors of provinces, sole depositaries of power during the intervals of government, aspired to complete independence and sold their submission to each successive sovereign. The provinces themselves, regretting the riches that went from them to swell the disorders of the capital, encouraged the pretensions of their governors, until these latter finally succeeded in reducing the caliph to a purely nominal supremacy.

The dismemberment of Spain and Africa had been the first blow struck at the unity of the Moslem states; when the Abbasid caliphs had invested the Aghlabites with the government, they had not regarded it as an act of final abdication on their own part. In Asia the work of disintegration had gone on more slowly. The Tahirites, whom Al-Mamun had established in Khorasan by giving full control of that province to his general Tahir, maintained amicable relations with the caliphs until their realm in turn became torn by dissensions, and they were finally overthrown by the power of the Saffarids. Yakub, the leader of this family of Saffarids, wished to push his victories further, and advanced to the attack of Baghdad (874). Muwaffak, who was in command of the city, met and defeated him at Wasit, but did not feel sufficiently strong to follow up his advantage by pursuit. Yakub retired to his own dominions, and having by the following year regained all his losses, would shortly have visited the caliph with complete destruction, had not his life been suddenly cut short (879).

The establishment of the dynasty of the Saffarids in Khorasan, Sistan, and Tabaristan cut off all communication between the centre of the empire, Khwarizm, and the Mawarannahar, and Ismail, the governor of those provinces, declared his independence in full assurance of impunity. In 819 the sons of Asad ben Saman had obtained from Al-Mamun the command of Samarcand,[218] Ferghana, and Balkh respectively; one of them, Akhmed, transmitted his power to his eldest son Nasr, who, by taking possession of Bokhara, became later sovereign over all Transoxiana. Suspecting his brother Ismail of complicity with the Turks and Saffarids, against whom he was obliged vigorously to defend his province, Nasr pursued him with an armed force (888), but was himself taken prisoner. On this occasion, Ismail revealed the magnanimity of his character; he caused all the deference due his rank to be paid to his brother, and up to the time of the latter’s death in 892 saw that his authority was respected. When he was at last free to act as sovereign, Ismail forced the Turks to retreat beyond the Jaxartes, and laid a solid foundation for the Samanid dynasty.

Other principalities were springing into power in the remaining parts of western Asia. The city of Bassora was seized by an adventurer who successfully resisted all attacks during the reigns of Mutazz and Mutamid, and nearly the whole of Arabian Irak was under the dominion of the Zengians. To Muwaffak is due the glory of retaking these provinces—and Bassora likewise in 882. He was not so successful in his enterprise against the Tulunids, who detached Egypt and Syria from the Arabian empire. Akhmed ben Tulun, one of the Turks educated at the court of the caliph, had distinguished himself by ability and courage, and was considered worthy of the post of governor of Egypt and Syria. Once established in these provinces he had no difficulty in maintaining his authority, supported as he was by the whole force of the Turkish militia; and he resolved to declare himself independent. In 877 he claimed the right of collecting taxes, thus openly cutting himself off from the caliphs, who, knowing their own weakness, incited the emirs of Syria to revolt against the Tulunids. Akhmed overcame all these difficulties, and when he died, in 884, left behind him a consolidated power. His son Khumaraweih succeeded him, and quelled the opposition of the few hostile parties that remained.

The rule of the Tulunids was on the whole advantageous to Egypt and Syria. Akhmed loved science and was withal liberal-minded, generous, and charitable. At Fostat, the capital of Egypt, he caused a superb mosque to be erected, which is known to-day as the mosque of Tulun, and also built palaces and laid out market-places for the accommodation of the traders of different nations who flocked to Egypt at that time. Khumaraweih was distinguished for his luxury and magnificence; he was said to have built an immense menagerie, in which the animals were lodged in splendid cages, having water brought to them in bronze canals. The bed in which he slept was said to be gently rocked and supported by a tiny lake of quicksilver, on which it rested. His death was by assassination, and with him perished the splendour of the Tulunids.

No new dismemberments occurring during the reigns of Mutadid (892-902), Muktafi (902-908), and the first part of the reign of Muktadir (908-913), it might have been thought that the caliphs would retain the extensive empire that remained to them. Indeed, many circumstances arose which materially increased their power. Shortly after his accession to the throne Mutadid received tribute from Khumaraweih, and subsequently repulsed the tribes of Arabs and Kurds who had swarmed out of the Syrian deserts with the intention of overpowering Mosul. Muktafi was even more successful; he attacked Harun by sea and land and immediately received the submission of all the emirs. In Egypt the descendants of Tulun were deserted by the very supporters whom they had formerly laden with benefits. About this time the Saffarids likewise disappeared, overthrown by the Samanids, against whom[219] they had been pitted by the artful policy of the caliphs. In addition to their newly-gained province of Khorasan the Samanids were given the investiture of Tabaristan and Sidjistan, Muktafi thus replacing two rival princes in his immediate neighbourhood by a single ruler whom the Turks did not allow to become dangerous. Muktafi’s successor, Muktadir Billah (908-932), did not succeed, as Muktafi had done, in keeping his dominions intact. Powerless in his own capital, he was little respected outside, and on all sides arose disturbances that his predecessors had temporarily kept down. After Muktadir, Kahir (932-934), Radhi (934-940), Muttaki (940-944), and Mustakfi (944-946) lost their few remaining provinces, and the temporal power of the caliphs in Baghdad was forever at an end.

In 930 a descendant of the emir, Hamdan, who had asserted his independence, took several strongholds in the province of Jezira, and pushing on as far as the northwest of Syria, founded there an important principality of which the capital was Mosul. The establishment of the Hamdanites in Jezira facilitated the rebellion of Egypt. Since the fall of the Tulunids the caliphs had committed the blunder of allowing Egypt and Syria to remain united, thinking that a frequent change of governors was all that was necessary to maintain peace. But one of these governors, Ikhshid the Turk, won over a large party of supporters, and when the order came for him to relinquish his rule to another, he refused to obey. Thus Egypt and Syria were finally lost to the Abbasids in 936.

In the neighbourhood of Baghdad the Raikites and the Baridians disputed the possession of Bassora, Wasit, and the province of Ahwaz, and sought to play an important part in the politics of the capital. The lords of Armenia and Georgia ceased to pay a tribute that was no longer demanded, and the two provinces commenced at that epoch to separate into distinct realms. In the provinces bordering on the Caspian Sea the same tendency was to be observed. During the reign of Muktadir a chief named Merdawij had conquered the province of Gilhan, wrested Tabaristan away from the Samanids, and subdued the greater part of Aderbaijan. The glory of founding a new dynasty, however, fell not to him but to three brothers who fought in his army and who claimed descent from the old Sassanid kings, although their father, Buya, was only a simple fisherman. Struck by their courage and ability, the people flocked to their standard, and to the provinces already gained by Merdawij they added Kerman, Mekran, Laristan, and many others (933-940).

Baghdad being now surrounded by independent principalities, the dominion of the caliphs was limited to that city itself, and even in that small realm their authority was purely nominal. Owing to court intrigues and the rebellions that were constantly breaking out in the city, the history of the later Abbasids is nothing but a panorama of executions of generals, vizirs, sovereigns, and pretenders. Out of fifty-nine commanders of the faithful thirty-eight came to violent ends, and suffered calamities worse than death. That the blood of the family of Mohammed might not be shed, many were made to die of starvation; others were walled up or cast into glaciers. Kahir emerged from his imprisonment with blinded eyes, and for the rest of his life begged alms at the doors of mosques. His successor, Radhi, to escape the tyranny of the Turks who were now in charge of every branch of the government, created the post of emir of the emirs. This dignitary, to whom was given command over the army and control over the public finances, soon came to be the real sovereign, Radhi, who withdrew to strict seclusion, reserving not a vestige of authority to himself. But instead of setting, as he[220] thought, a master over the turbulent Turkish guard, Radhi’s act had simply augmented the power of its chiefs. One of these, Bajkam, irritated at the rise of Ibn Raik, got possession of the person of Radhi and forced him to appoint him, Bajkam, emir of the emirs. The death of this ambitious politician in the second year of Muttaki’s reign was the signal for fresh disturbances. Claimants, whose pretensions the Turks were obliged to combat, sprang up on every side, and the post of emir of the emirs came to be as hotly contested as that of caliph had formerly been. Muttaki, having no alternative but to sanction the acts of the stronger side, thought for a moment of placing himself in the hands of the Ikhshidites; but Turun ordered him to be put to death and proclaimed Mustakfi caliph. Exasperated by this terrible abuse of power, the inhabitants of Baghdad called to their aid the Buyid princes, who had recently established themselves in the provinces of the former Persian Empire, and in 945 the Turks were finally driven from the city. Muiz ad-Daula set upon the throne a caliph who was a mere tool to his desires, and reserving the post of emir of the emirs for himself, became the first of that series of Buyid emirs which continued for more than a century.

Meanwhile, in singular contrast with the sanguinary turbulence of those who had usurped their power, the Arabs, weary of wars and civil strife, gave themselves up to the study of science and letters; the last of the Abbasids, in the closest seclusion their palaces would afford, sought consolation for the hardships of their lot in the society of scholars and literary men. The Buyid princes also followed the example set by Al-Mamun, and gave a great impetus to the study of astronomy and mathematics. They levied in their tributary provinces forces sufficient to enable them to maintain their supremacy against all rival factions, while the caliphs Muti, Tai, Kadir, and Kaim, deprived of their revenues and shorn of all authority and kingly state, played exactly the same part as was enacted by the Merovingian rois fainéants under the tutelage of their mayors of the palace. Nevertheless, it was only from the hands of the caliphs that the greater part of the ruling families of Asia would receive their investitures, the Abbasids being still the legitimate sovereigns in the eyes of devout Moslems.

THE VARIOUS RELIGIOUS SECTS

In all times the Moslem empire had been disturbed by a variety of religious sects. Under the Abbasids the Mutazilites had promulgated a lofty faith which had exerted great influence over noble minds. There were others which had confined themselves to protesting against the license of the times and demanding social reformation, while many had been made merely the instrument of personal ambition. Among the most prominent were the Rawandis, a fanatical sect who believed that to caliphs should be accorded the worship due to divinities, and who so importuned Al-Mansur with their adoration that he caused them to be cut to pieces by his guards. More formidable were the Zendians, who boldly maintained that the holding of property was a crime, and that man should not eat the flesh of animals. They were mercilessly pursued and exterminated. In 781 Mokanna incited the population of Khorasan to revolt, and in 834 Babik founded in Aderbaijan the sect of the Ismailians, who professed, according to Arab historians, the most pronounced materialism, and for four years resisted all Mutasim’s efforts to put them down. Of all the sects, however, none promulgated its beliefs with such rapidity and success as that of the[221] Karmathians, who, in the tenth century, infested Arabia and wrested from the caliphs their spiritual and temporal power over the whole eastern part of the peninsula.

Karmat retained most of the doctrines of the Koran, recognising Ali and the seven imams as direct descendants of Mohammed, and rejecting only the theory of revelation. He had devised a system of successive degrees into which his followers were to be initiated, and the last of these, according to Nowairi and Makrizi, was atheism. It is not likely that a belief of this nature would have found many adherents had not Karmat preached at the same time abolition of slavery. Fighting in the name of liberty, his partisans overcame all opponents; but having enriched themselves by pillage they fell into the most grievous excesses and incurred general contumely. The series of their victories commenced under the reign of Mutadid, when after defeating one of his generals they advanced on Cufa, and reduced and pillaged it. During the reign of Muktafi they carried their arms as far as Palestine, and even threatened Damascus. Their ablest chief, Abu Tahir, conducted them on another expedition against Cufa, as a result of which the city was totally destroyed; then drawing near to Baghdad he repulsed the attack of an army of thirty thousand men. “Are your master’s soldiers as devoted as mine?” asked Abu Tahir of one of the Moslem generals. He then commanded one of his men to plunge a sword into his own breast, another to leap into the Tigris, and a third to precipitate himself from the top of a high cliff; all of which commands were immediately obeyed. Some years previously (930) the Karmathians had besieged Mecca and massacred two thousand persons; they also destroyed the temple of the Kaaba, carried off the famous Black Stone, and choked up the well of Zemzem. In the Hamdanites and Ikhshidites they finally met adversaries who were their match; and after suffering defeat in several encounters they retired permanently to the deserts of Syria and Bahrain.

In addition to the powerful reformers who aimed at nothing less than the destruction of both the temporal and spiritual authority of the caliphs, there were numerous philosophers and ascetics who created schisms in the very heart of Islam. The most important of these minor sects was that of the Sufis, whose aim was to hold the soul in constant communication with God by destroying all natural sentiment and affection. Though frequently persecuted by the caliphs, the apostles of Sufism succeeded in spreading their doctrines through all Persia, thus hastening the extinction of Islam, which was every day losing more ground. The existence of the Shiites and the Sunnites was a further check on the growth of the Moslem faith; and the first Abbasids having failed to establish religious unity, the troubles resulting[222] from such a confusion of creeds were constantly on the increase. Born enemies of the Omayyads though they were, the Abbasids, fearing to let the Alids or Shiites gain too much power, were avowedly on the side of the Sunnites and persecuted all who opposed their views.

After many vain attempts to gain the throne the Alids sought to found a dominion for themselves in some of the dismembered provinces. One of their number was for a short time ruler of Tabaristan, but was unable to maintain his supremacy. In Africa they were more fortunate, the Edrisites succeeding in establishing themselves in Mauretania, while in 908 Obaid Allah, who assumed the title of imam, rallied the whole Maghreb to his cause and overthrew the dynasty of the Aghlabites. Gradually extending his dominion further along the coast, he laid the foundations of the Fatimite rule in Kairwan and Mahdiya, and was already stretching out his hand toward Egypt when death cut short his plans. His immediate successors, Abul-Kasim (936-945) and Al-Mansur (945-953), were unable to shake the position of the adroit and valiant Ikhshid; but they placed themselves in communication with the Arabian Shiites in Hedjaz and Yemen, and gained many friends by means of largess wisely distributed. At Ikhshid’s death disputes arose as to the succession, and Muiz-lidinillah, who replaced Al-Mansur (953), penetrated into the interior of the country, received the submission of the emirs, and became the first Fatimite caliph in Egypt. From this period the Fatimites had the advantage in the spiritual struggle with the Abbasids. After founding Great Cairo (972) they conquered Syria and a part of Jezira, and their supremacy was acknowledged by nearly all the populations of Arabia, who hoped to find in them a defence against the Karmathians in future.

Thus three realms, which were governed respectively by the Fatimites, the Buyids, and the Samanids, formed the whole of the Arabian empire at the close of the tenth century; and the history of that period is most interesting, since it shows how centres of civilisation may shift; not at Baghdad but at Cairo were Arabian luxury and culture henceforth to shine with their brightest lustre.

Under the Fatimites commerce, industry, agriculture, the arts and sciences flourished in Egypt as they had flourished in Asia under the early Abbasids. Magnificent works were constructed to connect the little town of Fostat with Mesra, and splendid mosques were added to those erected by Tulun. It seemed to be the wish of the caliphs to efface from every mind the remembrance of the glories of Baghdad; and they were also most zealous in administering the government of their realm, giving their personal attention to the assessment and collection of taxes. Thanks to the remarkable fertility of the land, they were soon in receipt of a revenue nearly as large as those of Harun ar-Rashid. Muiz and Aziz were wise and moderate in their expenditures and just in their rule; but Hakim who succeeded them (996-1020) was like an evil genius on the throne. He reduced his subjects to a state of the most abject submission, and maintained a wonderfully organised system of police which kept him informed of the slightest occurrences, thus giving rise to the belief that he was omniscient. He was in fact worshipped as a divinity, and his sudden disappearance but confirmed the universal faith, inasmuch as it was publicly stated that he had ascended to heaven whence he would again descend to earth at a later day. One or two facts will serve to give an idea of the blind despotism of Hakim. He set fire to Cairo that he might enjoy the sight of the city in flames, and he tortured Jews and Christians to make them renounce their religion, then gave them permission to[223] return to it again. Terror reigned wherever he appeared; yet he respected and encouraged learned men and caused the astronomical tables of Ibn Junis to be dedicated to him. He is supposed to have been assassinated by one of his sisters, who then assumed the regency in the name of his son Dhahir, who was still a child (1020-1036). On the death of Dhahir, Abu Temim Mustansir ascended the throne and held it for fifty-eight years. Being acknowledged ruler of Africa and Arabia and proclaimed their spiritual sovereign by the inhabitants of Baghdad, who were weary of the rule of Kaim-biamrillah, Mustansir was at one time on the point of re-establishing the universal caliphate; but he was shortly afterward punished for his ambitious schemes by the loss of the best part of Syria, and it was with difficulty that he could maintain his supremacy even in Palestine.

The Buyids, who had taken possession of Persia in 933, and were all-powerful in Irak-Arabia and Baghdad, did not continue to shine for so long a period as the Fatimites, but their era was ushered in a little earlier. During the last half of the tenth century, after the Turkish militia had been destroyed and the Hamdamites driven from Jezira and Mosul, the Buyids were without rivals in Asia, and the continuance of peace permitted them to carry on the work begun by Al-Mamun. Two of their princes, Adhud ad-Daula and Sharaf ad-Daula, revived the taste for literature by themselves becoming authors, and to them is due the credit of restoring upon a sound basis the school of Baghdad, which during their reign was to produce so many learned men. Adhud ad-Daula did not rest content with showering benefits on poets and scholars; he caused engineers of the highest merit to sink the bed of the river Bendemir in Persia, thus preventing the inundations which were so frequent and disastrous near Shiraz, and furnishing an improved water-way for commerce. A magnificent hospital was erected at Baghdad, and at its inauguration a festival was given which is still famous in the annals of the East. Unfortunately the Buyids succeeded no better than the caliphs in transmitting their power to their descendants by means of fixed laws; they actually paved the way for the dismemberment of the empire they had founded, and laid it open to revolution and disaster by the impolitic manner in which they distributed its provinces and dependencies among their children.

The dominion of the Samanids, after lasting for more than a century, came to an end at about the same time. Alp Tegin, a Turkish slave who had risen to a position of dignity under Abdul-Malik, failed in his attempt to get the reins of power into his own hands at the death of that monarch, and fled to Ghazni, where he gradually assumed control of public affairs, and for sixteen years successfully resisted all efforts of the Samanids to overthrow him.

Subuktigin, the wise general and councillor who succeeded him in 995, carried the Moslem faith and arms into India, ravaging the Punjab, founding the cities of Bast and Kasdar and defending the Samanids against the Turks who were invading the Mawarannahar. He designated his youngest son, Ismail, to succeed him; but the eldest, Mahmud, at the head of an armed force, proclaimed himself an independent sovereign and became rich with the plunder of India. He defeated the Samanids without difficulty and became master of Khorasan in 1000, thus extending as far as the Caspian Sea an empire that began at the Indus and Ganges and embraced the territories known to-day as Afghanistan, Herat, and Baluchistan. Mahmud was the first of the oriental princes to assume the title of sultan. Ghazni was his capital, hence the name “Ghaznevid” given him by historians, and[224] the cities of Kanaiy, Lahore, and Delhi in India, where the greatest renown was gained, paid him tribute. He further devastated the kingdom of Guzerat and destroyed the pagoda of Somnath, the magnificence of which defies description. Two thousand Brahmans were employed in the service of this temple, and its idol was formed of a single stone fifty cubits high. Immense sums were offered to Mahmud as a ransom for this idol, which was the most revered in Hindustan, but he inexorably refused them all.

While Mahmud’s troops were swarming over India, Mawarannahar fell into the power of the tribes of Turkestan. The sultan committed the error of allowing these enemies to remain, and himself introduced into his dominions the Seljuk Turks, who had recently been converted to Islam, and demanded grants of land in Khorasan. Masud, who succeeded his father in 1028, tried to rid himself of these formidable neighbours, but was defeated and could do no more thereafter than remain on the defensive. Toghril Beg, grandson of Seljuk, soon gained a second victory more decisive than the first over the Ghaznevids and drove them back towards India. Turning westward he invaded Khawarizm, Jorjan, Irak-Djeni, and then invaded the dominions of the Buyid princes.

The greatest disorder reigned at Baghdad. To escape the troubles by which he was beset, the caliph Kaim had placed himself under the protection of Toghril Beg, and relinquished the temporal power over all the states of Islam to that prince, who had made great display of piety by erecting temples to Mohammed in all the conquered cities. The ceremony of the investiture took place in Baghdad. After kissing the dust before the caliph, who was clothed in the black garments of the Abbasids, Toghril Beg ascended the throne that had been especially prepared for him and received upon his head the two crowns which signified his sovereignty over the double realm of Persia and Arabia. To further cement this union of the East with the West, the sister of Toghril Beg was given to the caliph in marriage, and the title of sultan was introduced in the khotba, or official prayer.

No sooner had the Turks withdrawn, however, than a general uprising took place at Baghdad, and Abu Temim Mustansir, the Fatimite ruler of Egypt, was proclaimed caliph in place of Kaim. True to his conciliatory policy the sultan came to the rescue of the imprisoned Abbasid prince and replaced him on the throne.

While the Arab predominance was being destroyed little by little, the Greeks were making renewed efforts to regain some of the colonies they had lost. As early as 852 their fleets had carried destruction to the town of Damietta, and a century later they had penetrated as far as Aleppo and had pillaged the treasures of Saif ad-Daula, the Hamdanite prince. Two of their emperors, Nicephorus and Zimisces (963-976), had crossed the Euphrates and made Jezireh swarm with their troops, while a great many strongholds had been reconquered as well as the country Cilicia and the island of Cyprus.

Incapable as they were of resisting the incursions of the Greeks, how were the Baghdad caliphs to check the advance of the warrior hordes of Turkestan, whom the Seljuks had gathered under their banner by the promise of spoils to be gained in the lands they were to conquer? The scattered tribes which the Samanids had easily repulsed in 893 were now united under one chief and formed a mighty force that, sweeping down all obstacles, was to subjugate the whole of western Asia and maintain its supremacy there for centuries to come.

[225]

THE SELJUK TURKS

The name of Seljuks, applied to the Turks who shared in the conquests of Toghril Beg, must not deceive as to their number; no particular horde was meant by those thus designated, since in the Turkestan as in the Arabian deserts any tribe which succeeded in imposing its sovereignty upon others gave to these the name of its chief. The Turks were of the Scythian race, to which also belonged those ferocious Huns, presented to us under so terrifying an aspect by Greek historians; but a distinction must be made, inasmuch as at the extremity of Asia the Tatars and Mongols lived still in a state of primitive savagery, acknowledging no god but a sword stuck upright in the ground; while the tribes called Turks had learned agriculture and commerce from the Arabs, and were possessed moreover of an overweening vanity and love of power, which made them willing even to be slaves that they might gradually work upon the spirit of their master for his final overthrow and destruction. Moslems themselves and Sunnites, the Seljuks found everywhere brothers in the enemies’ ranks, and took their investiture from the hands of the Abbasids. After they had vanquished the Greeks, from whom they wrested Asia Minor, they extended their dominion from the Indus to the Bosporus. But they had no idea of a strong organisation; their independent chieftains, at rivalry among themselves, disputed with each other the fragments of sovereign power, and these divisions made them fall an easy prey to the Mongols, when, in the beginning of the thirteenth century, Jenghiz Khan swept into the western world.

The most brilliant epoch in the history of the Seljuks was the period between 1055 and 1092, when they were united under one single head, and that head was the dispenser of booty. Numerous were the gifts which it[226] was in the power of Toghril Beg to bestow on relatives and followers. Recognised as sultan or supreme ruler by the caliphs, he extended his sovereignty over Jezireh and Armenia, and it was in the midst of further exploits that death surprised him in 1063. His nephew, Alp Arslan, succeeded him and enjoyed a brilliant reign. He vanquished the Roman emperor, Diogenes, destroyed the independence of the Georgians, and had just carried his arms into Turkestan, when he died by the hand of a citizen of Khwarizm. The greater part of Asia had come under his sway, twelve hundred chiefs paid homage to him, and two hundred thousand soldiers marched under his banner; and yet he was not the most brilliant among the princes of his family; that glory was reserved for his son, Malik Shah (1072-1092).

Malik Shah was a ruler endowed with the highest qualities, and his noble projects were ably seconded by his grand vizier, Nizam al-Mulk. Mosques and colleges were erected at Baghdad, and new roads and canals facilitated communication between the most distant points of the empire. While Nizam al-Mulk occupied himself with the details of the administration, the sultan travelled from one of his states to another seeking to make their boundaries recede ever further and further. His name was uttered in prayers from Mecca to Baghdad, from Ispahan to Kashgar; and he ultimately became master of all Asia Minor. By his orders Suleiman, one of his kinsmen, entered the territory of the Greeks and advanced to the Bosporus, after having conquered all the countries situated between Great Armenia, Georgia, the Black Sea, the Mediterranean, Albania, and Lesser Armenia (1081). This was the origin of the sultanate of Iconium and Rum, afterwards Asiatic Turkey, which played so important a rôle in the time of the Crusades. The Greeks were driven out of Asia by the victories of Suleiman; and in spite of their Christian population, Antioch and the cities of Mesopotamia were obliged to submit to the Turkish yoke. In one of these expeditions Malik Shah was taken prisoner, and Nizam al-Mulk freed him in a manner as prudent as it was adroit; but the sultan afterwards turned upon and disgraced this eminent minister, who was to fall at length by the sword of the Ismailians at the age of ninety-three.

At the death of Malik Shah (1092) the Seljuk empire, losing its unity, broke up into several independent principalities. In vain the sultan in Persia strove to exercise a sort of supremacy over the other princes of his family; the four sons of Malik Shah, Mahmud, Barkiyarok, Sinjar, and Muhammed, divided the land among themselves at the close of protracted wars that exhausted the resources of the Seljuks without procuring any beneficial results either to Islam or the Turkish race. From this point the various countries and provinces that had once formed one realm drifted further and further asunder. In 1096 the emir Ortok established himself in Jerusalem with the intention of founding there a hereditary sovereignty and a governor of Khwarizm; profiting by the intestine troubles of the Seljuks, he declared his independence, and his successors, commencing a series of conquests which were to include Mawarannahar, Khorasan, Irak, and Kerman, renewed the empire of the Ghaznevids. Certain princes of that race had retained the provinces contiguous to the two banks of the Indus up to the time when the Ghurids, first at Lahore (1183-1205) and then at Delhi, undertook the siege of India, ravaging Benares, subjugating Bengal, and giving birth to the Afghan dynasty in the ancient Paropamisus.

The Ghurids had already been established twenty-five years in the dominion left by the last of the Ghaznevids when Muhammed, sultan of[227] Khwarizm, took from them their western provinces, and became nearly as powerful as Malik Shah had been. At the moment of his greatest splendour this prince fell a victim to the Mongol invasion (1208-1218).

We have witnessed the development of the antagonism between the Turkish and Arab races, whereby barbarism threatened to submerge the Moslem states, as it had menaced Europe in the time of the Germanic invasion. But by the law of compensation the Turks, while making felt about them the authority of the sword, imbibed the influence of Arab civilisation, and adopted with their religion and language their respect for science and the arts. A comparison of the decadence of the Arabian and Roman empires offers points of the most striking similarity; in the East the sultans renewed the glories of the reigns of Theodoric and of Charlemagne, and the school of Baghdad continued to shed effulgence over all Asia up to the end of the fifteenth century.

Still without influence, though restored to independence by the weakening of the Seljuks, the Abbasid caliphs remained in the capital, to which their authority was mostly confined. No successors of Kaim had revolted against the tyranny of the Seljuks except Mustarshid (1118-1135) and Rashid (1135-1136), who both committed acts of resistance, the latter even losing his life in defending Baghdad against the sultan Massud, whose supremacy he obstinately refused to recognise.

Massud, grandson of Malik Shah, was still strong enough to command respect, and during his life-time Muktafi, Rashid’s successor, ventured on no open rebellion. But at his death, there being disputes as to the rights of succession, the caliph publicly presented himself as the lawful sovereign, and after repelling all attacks directed against Baghdad, got himself acknowledged throughout Irak-Arabia. Affairs remained in this condition for a century, during which Mustanjid, Mustadi, Nasir, Dhahir, Mustansir, and Mutasim had not to endure the shame of seeing the government in the hands of others. They were at liberty to protect commerce and industry, letters and sciences, without incurring anyone’s censure; and Baghdad, in the midst of the disturbances which broke forth on all sides, was as an inaccessible fortress, into which even the rumour of certain bloody engagements between hot-headed Sunnites and intractable Shiites could penetrate but feebly.

ARABS AND TURKS UNITE AGAINST THE CHRISTIANS

While the power of the Seljuks was gradually declining in the eastern provinces, what was taking place in the western provinces of the Arabian empire? At the death of Malik Shah (1092) three sultanates were formed, those respectively of Aleppo, Iconium, and Damascus, having no connection with each other, nor with the sultanates of Persia or of Kerman. The first of these distinct realms extended over Asia Minor, the other two included the large cities of Jezireh and Syria. A favourable opportunity now presented itself to the Fatimite caliphs to reconquer some of their former possessions in those countries; but so fallen were they from their early greatness that they permitted the names of the Seljuk sultans to be mentioned in the public prayers at Hedjaz. Far from seeking to arm the Arabs against the Turks, Mustali, successor to Mustansir, had had but one aim, that of obtaining certain barren concessions from the Seljuk princes by intervening in their private quarrels; and moreover an unforeseen incident had arisen which diverted all minds from internecine troubles.

[228]

The arrival of several armies of Christians, sent to Palestine with the mission of delivering the Holy City, aroused in the Moslems all their religious fanaticism. Arabs and Turks suspended their mutual animosity to make one cause against the common enemy; the danger once past, however, divisions again broke forth that greatly facilitated the progress of the Christians. Before the arrival of Godfrey de Bouillon (1097) the army of Peter the Hermit had perished in the domains of the sultan of Iconium, and the Moslems, thinking they had nothing more to fear from without, recommenced their civil wars; thus the disciplined troops of the first true crusaders found no power to combat stronger than that of the Seljuks divided among themselves, and after having crossed the mountains of Cilicia they took the city of Antioch and made an easy entrance into Palestine.

The Moslems everywhere remained divided and without a common head. To the Fatimite caliphs, Mustali, Emir, Hafidh, Dhafir, Faïz, and Adid, or rather to their grand viziers, it never occurred to unite with the independent princes of Syria for the purpose of repulsing the enemy of their common faith; the main objects of their policy seemed to be to carry on negotiations with the Turkish emirs, the war against the Franks occupying a subordinate place in their concern. At the death of Barkiyarok, however, there suddenly arose a new and powerful defender of Islam.

Imad ad-Din (called “the bloody” by our chroniclers) had distinguished himself at the court of the Seljuks in Aleppo and Mosul. Organising for himself under the name of Atabekm a small independent state, he spread terror among the emirs all about him, and finally attacked the Seljuk sultan at Aleppo and became master of that town (1127). He next proceeded to awake in the Moslems their ancient hatred for the name of “Christian” and commenced against the Franks a sort of guerilla warfare which terminated in the taking of Edessa, after which he forced the kings of Jerusalem to make appeal to Europe.

Zenki was succeeded by his sons Saif ad-Din and Nur ad-Din, the latter of whom proved himself a worthy successor of his father. He harassed the Franks by repeated attacks, and allowed the two monarchs to exhaust their forces by vain efforts to take Damascus, which was still under the power of the Seljuks. When they finally retired, defeated, Nur ad-Din himself assailed the sultan, who was enfeebled by this long, heroic resistance, took from him Damascus, and entered Palestine, which he ravaged in every direction. By a fortunate circumstance he was soon permitted to mingle in the affairs of Egypt, by offering troops to a vizier for the purpose of suppressing the caliph Adid. Not receiving the reward promised for this service, he opened hostilities at once, and several times defeated the kings of Jerusalem, while his lieutenant, Shirkuh, became master of Egypt and forced the caliph to bestow upon him the charge of grand vizier. This was the sentence of death for the Fatimites. Shirkuh’s nephew, Saladin, sharer in his uncle’s secret designs, carried the revolution to a head, and in less than a month prayers were said in the mosque in the name of the Baghdad caliph, Nostadi, and Adid was deposed without a voice being raised in his favour (1171).

SALADIN AND HIS SUCCESSORS AGAINST THE CRUSADERS

Scarcely did Saladin get into his hands the resources of the wealthy land of Egypt than he commenced against the Franks that series of assaults which has made his name famous. He was later elevated to the supreme[229] rank by the universal choice of the Moslems at the death of Nur ad-Din, the latter’s son having been put aside.

The reign of Saladin, who was the most interesting figure in the history of the Crusades, represents for us the highest point of Arab civilisation. Being by birth a Kurd, he cannot be said to belong to the Turkish race, though he possessed the warlike instincts of a Turk, joined to a superior intelligence. In Godfrey de Bouillon and Richard the Lion-hearted are personified the piety, generosity, and valour of Christian chivalry; Saladin is no less the hero of the Moslem world. Unfaltering courage, magnanimity, a spirit of strict justice, and unshakable fidelity to his plighted word were among his principal virtues. Passing his life as he did in the midst of wars, he had little opportunity to foster the arts of peace; yet he was no stranger to letters and the sciences, and he neglected no opportunity to elevate himself in the esteem of his people. Saladin was the first to unite under one control the forces of Syria and Egypt, and therein lies the secret of his success against the crusaders.

At his entrance into Palestine, Jerusalem was a prey to the worst disorders, owing to the chiefs of the Crusade not being content to guard the sacred places that had been entrusted to them, but aspiring to govern all the cities and strongholds. The Holy City fell immediately into his power. The Moslems took possession of the temples as mosques, and besieged all the maritime towns; but a check inflicted upon them at Tyre revived the courage of the Franks and enabled them to await the arrival of Richard and Philip Augustus. The Third Crusade followed in 1187-1192, but Jerusalem could not be conquered by the Christians in spite of the bravery of the English king. The magnanimity shown by the sultan of Egypt in the treatment of his prisoners is well known; he set all the foreign knights at liberty, merely stipulating that each should bestow his name upon some newborn child.

Several months after the departure of Richard, Saladin died at Damascus, admired by his enemies and regretted by Moslems, who foresaw that new divisions would arise. Indeed three Eyyubid states at once came into being; one in Egypt, another in Damascus, Jerusalem, and Lower Syria, and the third in Aleppo and Upper Syria. Three sons of Saladin had divided the states left by their father, two of them being despoiled by their uncle Adil Saif ad-Din, who remained master of Egypt and Damascus. Malik Adil, called Saphedin in our chronicles, was the sworn enemy of the Franks; he took from them the city of Tripolis, and was the determining cause of the Fifth Crusade.

Malik al-Kamil, his son, became sultan of Egypt in 1218, and graciously received presents from Frederick II, when that prince entered Palestine at the head of the Sixth Crusade, and received from him the city of Jerusalem that had cost the Moslems so many lives. The Eyyubid sultans that succeeded Malik looked upon the Franks as enemies who must be driven[230] from Asia at any cost; and so Jerusalem fell again into infidel hands and became in turn the possession of the sultans of Egypt and of Damascus.

Thus we find, at the commencement of the thirteenth century, the posterity of Saladin wielding power over almost the whole of the western part of the Arabian empire. A descendant of Nur ad-Din, it is true, possessed a part of Jezireh, and certain Eyyub princes reigned over provinces of the peninsula; while the name of the Abbasids, last representatives of the former Arab supremacy, was still proclaimed in public prayers. The Alids and Fatimites formed a single sect, without unity or political influence. Armenia and Georgia had reverted to Christianity, and a considerable faction known in history as the Ismailians, Bathenians, or Assassins had still retained a certain prominence.

This sect was founded toward the close of the eleventh century by Hassan Sabba, who succeeded in gaining an absolute ascendency over the minds of his followers. An enemy alike to Christianity and Islam, he promulgated a doctrine which was similar to that of the Karmathians, and among his possessions were several fortresses, in one of which he resided. The name “assassins” is a corruption of the word hashish, a sort of intoxicating drink by means of which Hassan Sabba persuaded his followers that he could initiate them in all the joys of paradise. Hassan assumed the character of a lesser providence charged with redressing wrongs and punishing untruth; and as he at the same time permitted all sorts of brigandage on the part of his sectarians, the dynasty he established terrorised all western Asia for more than two centuries. They carried their arms into Syria, where they erected fortifications and pillaged all the caravans that passed through. As late as the thirteenth century they possessed stations in Irak and Syria, not far from Damascus and Aleppo.

THE MONGOLS UNDER JENGHIZ KHAN INVADE WESTERN ASIA

Such was the situation of the oriental world when a new race of conquerors, the Mongols, descended upon western Asia. Like the Turks the Mongols formed one particular branch of the Scythian race, but had preserved, in the depths of Tatary, their primitive customs and religion. Their life was nomadic, their organisation tribal, and obedience to their chiefs, together with love of war and pillage, were their distinguishing characteristics.

Jenghiz Khan was already ruler of Tatary and Northern China when he directed his movements westward and menaced Mawarannahar (1219). This province belonged at the time to Muhammed, sultan of Khwarizm, who was at war with Nasir, caliph of Baghdad, for a very serious cause. Nasir, alarmed at the growing power of Muhammed, had armed the Ghurid princes against him; whereat Muhammed had summoned to a grand council in his palace a number of doctors and jurists whose decision could not be doubtful, and had declared the reign of the Abbasids, usurpers of the caliphate, to be at an end. A descendant of Ali, Ala ad-Din, was proclaimed caliph in place of Nasir, and a mighty expedition was prepared against Baghdad. Nasir was saved by the arrival of the Mongols at that juncture, the sultan being obliged to direct his entire force toward Mawarannahar, where it was cut to pieces. Muhammed himself fled to an island in the Caspian Sea, leaving his son Jelal ad-Din to meet and resist the invaders as best he might (1220). Courageous to foolhardiness, this prince would actually have opposed a successful resistance to the terrible enemy had he been supported by a people determined to[231] defend their homes at any cost; but betrayed and abandoned by those upon whom he should have been able to rely, he experienced the sorrow of seeing the hordes of Jenghiz Khan sweep devastatingly through Mawarannahar, Khwarizm, Gilan, and Aderbaijan. When the conqueror, master of 1,700 square leagues, retired to his own capital, Karakorum (1220-1227), Jelal ad-Din, who had taken refuge in India, returned, and all the populations who had escaped subjugation flocked to his banners. Out of the remains of his father’s possessions he formed a new empire which extended from the source of the Ganges to Mosul, and for yet a little while Baghdad was secure against attack by the Mongols. But Ogdai became khan by the consent of his father, Jenghiz, and all the greatest chiefs immediately set out to invade the domains of Jelal ad-Din, so that the latter was again reduced to flight, and later found death at the hands of an assassin.

Ogdai was less fortunate in his attempts against the sultan of Iconium and against Baghdad, which was ably defended by the caliph Mustansir (1235-1241). Kuyuk his successor (1241-1251) also made but little progress and had to be content with driving from his court the ambassadors of the caliph and of the sultan. Mangu Khan, who reigned next, was seized with a desire for conquest, and sent his brothers Kublai and Hulagu on missions of aggrandisement. While Kublai was occupied in completing the submission of China, Hulagu left Karakorum at the head of a numerous army and besieged Baghdad, with which he had already held secret communication. The caliph Mustasim, informed of his approach, made no attempt at resistance, and for seven days his capital was at the mercy of the Mongols, who pillaged and destroyed on all sides, burning many priceless manuscripts that they found in the libraries and colleges. Mustasim was strangled and his corpse dragged around the walls of Baghdad, which had been witnesses of all the different phases of the Abbasids’ rise and fall—their grandeur, their decadence, and their closing ignominy.

The Mongols had now only a step to take to seek the conquest of Egypt and Syria; but they encountered the mamelukes, whom they were unable to vanquish. As their name indicates, the mamelukes were Circassian slaves whom Saladin’s successors had imported to their palaces, and who renewed at Cairo the insubordination and excesses of which the Turkish soldiery had been guilty at Baghdad.

When the Khwarizmians fled to Syria before Jenghiz Khan, the sultan of Damascus gave to the Franks Tiberius, Jerusalem, and Ascalon in return for their aid. Now the sultan of Egypt and his mamelukes joined forces with the Khwarizmians, and during a series of combats in which Jerusalem was taken and retaken several times, they concluded by turning upon their own allies and almost destroying them (1240-1245). Three years later they repulsed at Massur the attack of St. Louis, who had begun an invasion of Egypt. In 1250 a revolution occurred which changed the whole face of the country.

The mamelukes, dissatisfied with the treaty they had concluded with the king of France, their prisoner, rose in revolt and proclaimed one of their chiefs, Muiz ad-Din, sultan. St. Louis, who had retired to Palestine, sought in vain to raise up enemies against the mamelukes by entering into relations with the khan of the Mongols, and the leader of the Ismailians. Syria, after having been briefly occupied by Hulagu, who put an end to the sultanates of Aleppo and Damascus (1258), remained permanently, together with Jezireh, in the hands of the mamelukes. The Franks lost successively their remaining possessions and a new dynasty of Abbasid caliphs arose, who for over[232] two centuries exercised no higher function than that of bestowing a sort of religious consecration upon the sovereigns of Egypt. In 1517 the Ottoman Turks, already masters of Constantinople and Asia Minor, exterminated the mamelukes, and extended their authority over all the countries known to-day under the name of Asiatic Turkey.

Situated as they were in the midst of incessant revolutions, and suffering from the onslaught of barbarian races from the north, the Arabs began gradually to disappear; but the great movement they imparted to civilisation has never been lost in Asia, and traces of their beneficent influence are still everywhere apparent. We have seen the Seljuk, Malik Shah, borrow from the school of Baghdad the reforms he introduced into the Persian calendar; before him Mahmud, the Ghaznevid, had called to his councils a universal genius—Albiruni, who exercised a remarkable influence upon the century in which he lived; the Mongul, Hulagu, who could not save from the flames the precious instruments and records that had been the result of years of enlightened research, permitted the celebrated mathematician, Nasir ad-Din Thusi, to build a magnificent observatory at Meraga; and lastly his brother Kublai, when he became emperor of China, carried with him into the celestial empire all the lore and wisdom of the Occident.

Under the first Ottoman emperors we shall note the use by eminent writers of the old dialect of the Abbasids; but this is the last faint effulgence of a protracted period of glory. The tyranny of the sword is to usurp power over all the Asiatic continent—among the Manchurian Tatars in the east, the Usbegs in the north, the Sophia in Persia, and the Ottoman Turks in the west. From an intellectual point of view the Orient is to fall again into immobility and torpor, until the nations of the west, carrying out on a grander scale the work begun by the Arabs, shall so develop all the forces of science and of human industry as to react on Asia, and infuse into the swarming populations of those vast spaces the spirit of a new life.b

We have now seen the sceptre of Mohammed pass from his own race. It remains to resume the story of the Arabs in Spain.a

FOOTNOTES

---

[233]

CHAPTER IX. THE DECLINE OF THE MOSLEMS IN SPAIN

Al-Hakam II, the son and successor of Abd ar-Rahman, inherited all the great qualities of his father. He was, however, averse to war, fond of tranquillity, and immoderately attached to literature. His agents were constantly employed in the East in purchasing scarce and curious books; he himself wrote to every author of reputation for a copy of that author’s works, for which he paid royally; and wherever he could not purchase a book, he caused it to be transcribed. By this means he collected an extensive library, the unfinished catalogue of which, in the time of Ibn Hayan, reached forty-four volumes. On his accession, that he might devote his chief time to the public administration yet not neglect interests so dear to him, he confided to one of his brothers the care of his library, and to another the duty of protecting literary institutions and of rewarding the learned. His reign is the golden age of Arabian literature in Spain.

He appears never to have been engaged in war with the Christians; for though the Arabian writers mention the siege and reduction of an Estefano de Gormas by the king in person, no mention is made of such a fact by the contemporary bishop of Astorga. In Africa, his general, Khalib, successfully repressed an insurrection of two local governors, and rendered the walis of Fez again dependent on the throne of Cordova.

As Hisham II, the son and successor of Al-Hakam, was but eleven years old when he ascended the throne, the regency was conferred by the queen-mother on her secretary, Muhammed ben Abdallah, a man of great genius, valour, and activity. Muhammed, better known as Almansor, may, in fact, be regarded as the king; for he alone throughout life governed the realm. Hisham was too feeble, too despicable, too much addicted to slothful pleasures, to command even the passing notice of the people.

ALMANSOR

The wars of Almansor with the Christians, which proved so fatal to them, occupy the most prominent part of his administration. Without acquainting them with his intention to disturb a peace which had continued during[234] the reign of Al-Hakam, in 977 A.D. he penetrated into Galicia, where booty and captives in abundance rewarded the avarice of his followers. In the two years succeeding, he frequently renewed his incursions, both into Galicia and Tarragona, without encountering much opposition. Under an infant king, the Christians were too much occupied with their internal dissensions to unite even in defence of their country. In short, his destructive inroads are said to have occurred twice every year during a great part of his life.

In 981 Almansor not only reduced Zamora, but took possession of many other fortresses in the neighbourhood. The ensuing campaigns were no less successful; they are, however, too numerous to be particularised. It will be sufficient to state that in 983 A.D. he took Gormaz; in 984, Simancas; in 986, Sepulveda; in 987, he destroyed Coimbra, which, however, the Moors themselves soon rebuilt; in 989, he reduced Artienza, Osma, and Alcova; in 992, Montemayor; in 994, San Estevan and Corunna; in 995, Aguilar; in 996, the important cities of Leon and Astorga, with a great number of inferior places; and in the same year he laid waste the whole of Galicia, not sparing even the holy precincts of Compostella. His restless barbarity, and still more his innumerable acts of sacrilege, are dwelt upon with indignant wonder by the old chroniclers. But many precious things escaped his fury; and many more, such as the bodies of saints and kings, were removed by the terrified Christians from Leon to Oviedo—for the mountains of the Asturias again became the inaccessible asylum of the native monarchy. The bells of Compostella were sent to Cordova, to be melted into lamps for the famous mosque of that city. But the indignant saint sought for revenge; for, on their return to Cordova, the misbelievers were seized with a violent dysentery, which carried off the greater portion of them; comparatively few (if the bishop of Astorgab is to be believed, not one) returned to the Mohammedan capital. Later writers than Sampiro assign—perhaps with truth—much of the honour to the Christians, who, on learning the extent of the disease, pursued the misbelievers, and cut off such as Santiago would have spared. However this be, on the departure of the invaders, the Christians issued from their mountains, rebuilt their towns, and restored the church of Compostella.

During these successful operations against the kings of Leon, Almansor had time to signalise his administration in other parts. In 985 he seized on Barcelona; and would have carried his victorious banners to the Pyrenees, had not his march been arrested by intelligence from Africa. Al-Hasam, an emir of Almaghreb, who during the late reign had usurped the government of the whole province, and been expelled by Khalib, had fled to Egypt. By Nazar, the sultan of that country, he had been favourably received; and on his return he bore an order to the governor of Tunis to provide him with three thousand horse, and some Berber infantry. His little army was speedily reinforced; for in that country, more perhaps than any other on the face of the earth, he who endeavoured to disturb existing institutions was sure to receive some degree of co-operation. The general of Almansor—for Hisham was nobody—was defeated and compelled to seek refuge in Ceuta. But Abdul-Malik, the son of Almansor, hastened to the scene of strife, and in two battles annihilated the forces of his enemy, whom he made prisoner; and who, though relying on the faith of treaties, was sent to Spain and executed. With Al-Hasam ended the dynasty of the Edris, which had ruled in Fez about two hundred years. In 987, however, the flames of war were rekindled by Balkin ben Zeiri, and nourished by his son and successor. After various alternations of fortune the country was pacified by the victories of Abdul-Malik, who was rewarded by the dignity of emir of Almaghreb.

[235]

DECAY OF POWER

But the chief attention of the hajib was always turned to the natural enemy of his nation. From his elevation he had meditated the destruction of the Christian power. Now that Africa was pacified, and his son able to send him a supply of Berber troops, he resolved to execute his project, and as usual to commence with Leon. His preparations which he had been long making were immense; but this circumstance saved Spain. Terrified at the approaching danger, Sancho king of Navarre, and another of the same name, the count of Castile, entered into a confederacy with the regency of Leon (Alfonso V, who then reigned, was only in his eighth year), to repel the common foe. This was the first time during the administration of Almansor that the three powers thus united; they were, in fact, generally at war with one another; a circumstance which, coupled with the frequent minority of the kings of Leon, will fully account for the unparalleled triumphs of that hero.

In 1001 the Mohammedan army, in two formidable bodies, ascended the Duero, and encountered the Christians in the vicinity of Calatanazar, a place between Soria and Medina Cœli. When Almansor perceived the widespread tents of the Christians, he was struck with surprise. The battle commenced with break of day, and was maintained with unexampled obstinacy until darkness separated the combatants.

That the loss on both sides was immense, may well be conceived from the desperate valour of the two armies. If Almansor by his frequent and impetuous assaults broke the adverse line, it was soon reformed, and the next moment saw the Christian knights in the very heart of the infidels. Overcome with fatigue, with anxiety, and still more with the mortification of having been so unexpectedly repelled, he slowly retired to his tent, to await the customary visits of his generals. The extent of his disaster was unknown to him, until he learned, from the few who arrived, the fate of their brother chiefs. To hazard a second field, he well saw, would be destruction; and burning with shame he ordered a retreat. Whether the Mohammedans were disturbed or not in their retreat is uncertain, but Almansor himself proceeded no further than the frontiers of Castile, before he sank under the weight of his despair. Obstinately refusing all consolation—some accounts say all support—he died in the arms of his son Abdul-Malik, who had hastened from Africa to see him, the third day of the moon Shaffal (1002).

Almansor was formed for a great sovereign. He was not only the most able of generals, and the most valiant of soldiers, but he was an enlightened statesman, an active governor, an encourager of science and the arts, and a magnificent rewarder of merit. His loss was fatal to Cordova. The national sorrow was mitigated for a moment by the appointment of Abdul-Malik to the vacant post of hajib. This minister promised to tread in the steps of his illustrious father; his administration both in Africa and Spain was signalised by great spirit and valour; but, unlike Almansor, he found the Christians too well prepared to be taken by surprise. He was suddenly seized with excruciating pains—the effect, probably, of poison; and he died in 1008, in the seventh year of his administration. With him ended the prosperity of Mohammedan Spain.

Abd ar-Rahman, the brother of Abdul-Malik, was next advanced to the post of hajib. He prevailed on the childless monarch to designate him as successor to the throne. This rash act occasioned his ruin, and was one of those which accelerated with fearful rapidity the decline of the state. The race of the Omayyads was not extinct; and Muhammed, a prince of that[236] house, resolved to chastise the presumption of the hajib. He rapidly marched on the city, forcibly seized on the palace and king, and proclaimed the deposition of the hajib, who later was wounded, taken, and crucified by the barbarous victor.

Muhammed first caused himself to be appointed hajib; but the modest title soon displeased, and he aspired to that of king. He who had successfully rebelled against his sovereign, and who held that sovereign a prisoner in the palace, was not likely to hesitate at greater crimes. By his orders Hisham was secretly conveyed to an obscure fortress, and there confined. At the same time the death of the king was publicly announced; a person resembling him in stature and countenance was, we are told, substituted for him, and laid in the royal sepulchre; and Muhammed, in conformity with the pretended will of his predecessor, was hailed as prince of the believers.

But the usurper was far from secure in his seat of power. The dangerous example which he himself had set of successful rebellion, was too attractive not to be followed; and his own acts hastened the invitation. Incensed against the African guard which had supported the factions of Abd ar-Rahman, he dissolved that formidable body, and ordered them to be expelled the city. They naturally resisted; but with the aid of the populace he at length forced them beyond the walls, and threw after them the head of their chief. The exasperated Africans swore to be revenged, and proclaimed Suleiman, of the royal blood of the Omayyads, the successor of Hisham. As the forces of Suleiman were too few to make an open attack on Cordova, he traversed the country in search of partisans, and added greatly to the number of his followers. He even procured many Christian auxiliaries from Sancho, count of Castile. In an obstinately contended battle he overthrew the usurper; twenty thousand troops of the latter being left on the field. The victor hastened to Cordova, and assumed the reins of sovereignty. There, however, he did not long remain; he felt he was unpopular; and to avoid assassination, he shut himself up in the palace of Azhara.

The African domination—for such his was—became odious to the native Moslems; nor was the feeling lessened by the presence of the Christian auxiliaries. The latter were honourably dismissed; but still there was no solid security for Suleiman, against whom plots were frequent. To add to his vexations, Muhammed, aided by Count Raymond of Barcelona and several walis, advanced against Cordova. The African party was defeated, its chief forced to flee, and Muhammed again recognised as king. But throughout these contentions, the vicissitudes of success and failure followed each other with amazing celerity. Though pursued by a superior force headed in person by his bitter rival, Suleiman turned round and inflicted a terrible defeat on Muhammed, who precipitately fled, almost alone, to the capital. The victor followed him, seized on the heights in the vicinity of Cordova, and laid siege to the place. Muhammed was weakened by the desertion of his Christian allies, and still more by the disaffection of the mob, which bears about the same feeling to unfortunate princes as the kindred cur towards the meanly clad visitant. The hajib Uhada, a man who had contrived to keep his post in every recent change of government, took advantage of this alienation of popular feeling; he did not declare for Suleiman, as little of a favourite as the present ruler; but he suddenly drew Hisham from confinement, and showed him to the astonished populace. Astonishment gave way to transport; and transport, as usual, to excesses. Muhammed was beheaded, his corpse torn in pieces by the new converts to legitimacy (1012 A.D.), and the head thrown into the camp of Suleiman.

[237]

But Suleiman refused to recognise the grandson of the great Abd ar-Rahman. Having formed an alliance with Obaid Allah, the son of Muhammed and wali of Toledo, he aimed at nothing less than the deposition of the king. At first his efforts were unpromising; his ally was defeated, made prisoner, and beheaded. Fortune favoured him in other respects. Suleiman marched on Cordova. In vain did the hajib Khairan, the successor of Uhada, whom Hisham in a fit of suspicion had put to death, attempt to defend the city. The inhabitants opened one of the gates; the Africans entered, fought, and conquered; their chief was a second time saluted as king, and Hisham forever disappeared from the stage of royalty—probably at the same moment from that of life.

Suleiman began his reign—for so long as Hisham lived he cannot be properly ranked among the kings of Cordova—by rewarding his adherents in the most lavish manner. He confirmed them, as he had promised, in the hereditary possession of their fiefs; thus engrafting on a strangely foreign stock the feudal institution of more northern nations. This was the signal for the creation of numerous independent sovereignties, and consequently for the ruin of Mohammedan Spain. The strength of the misbelievers had consisted in their unity under the religious sway of their caliphs; when this strong bulwark was dissolved the scattered fragments of their empire might for a moment resist the eager assaults of the Christians; but these must inevitably be swept away in the end by the overwhelming flood.

The hajib Khairan, who had escaped to his government of Almeria, swore to be revenged on this new usurper. As, however, no forces which he could bring into the field could contend for a moment with those of Suleiman, he passed over to Ceuta to interest the governor, Ali ben Hammud, in his project. Suleiman was forsaken by most of the walis, his allies—they can no longer be called subjects; his troops deserted to swell the ranks of his enemy; and in a battle near Seville, his Andalusian adherents turned against him, and thereby decided his fate.

Ali was proclaimed king of Mohammedan Spain, but not until search had been vainly made for Hisham. The crown was not destined to sit more lightly on his head than on that of his immediate predecessor. He found an enemy where he least expected one; he was stifled in the bath by his Slavonic attendants, and the report circulated that his death was natural.

Al-Kasim ben Hammud, brother of the deceased king, seized on the throne. A powerful conspiracy was formed to dethrone him. His palace was assailed; and though, by the valour of his guards, it held out fifty days, at the end of that time most of them fell in an attempt to effect their escape. Some of the more humane of the assailants secretly conveyed Kasim beyond the walls and provided him with a small escort of cavalry, which conveyed him to Xeres. When this intelligence was known at Cordova, the Alameris, or party of the family of the great Almansor, which acted a conspicuous part in all these commotions and which adhered to the fortunes of the Omayyads, proclaimed as king Abd ar-Rahman ben Hisham, brother of the usurper Muhammed.

Muhammed ben Abd ar-Rahman, cousin of the king, a man of boundless wealth, succeeded in corrupting the chief nobles of the city. In the silence of night he armed a resolute band of his creatures, who hastened to the palace, and massacred the soldiers on duty. After a reign of only forty-seven days, the king’s bedchamber was entered and he was pierced with a thousand wounds.

[238]

END OF THE OMAYYADS

Muhammed II reaped the reward of his crime. His successor was Yahya, who perished in an ambuscade (1025). The next prince on whom the choice of the Cordovans fell, Hisham III, brother of Abd ar-Rahman al-Mortada, was naturally loth to accept a crown which had destroyed so many of its wearers. In the end, however, being rather forced than persuaded to relinquish his scruples, he left his retirement. Unhappily, he had but too much reason to find that neither private virtues nor public services have much influence over the bulk of mankind; and that the absolute king who has not the power to make himself feared will not long be suffered to reign. In 1031 a licentious mob paraded the streets of Cordova, and loudly demanded his deposition. He did not wait the effects of their violence; with unfeigned satisfaction he retired to private life, in which he passed unmolested the remainder of his days. The remembrance of his virtues long survived him; and by all the Arabic writers of his country he is represented as too good for his age.

With Hisham III ended the caliphate of the West, and the noble race of the Omayyads. If the succession was interrupted by Ali, and Al-Kasim, and Yahya, who though descended from a kindred stock were not of the same family, that interruption was but momentary; especially as Abd ar-Rahman IV reigned at Jaen, while the last two princes were acknowledged at Cordova. From this period 1031 A.D. to the establishment of the kingdom of Grenada in 1238 A.D., there was no supreme chief of Mohammedan Spain, if we except the fleeting conquerors who arrived from Africa, the fabric of whose dominion was as suddenly destroyed as it was erected.

Vicious as is the constitution of all Mohammedan governments, and destructible as are the bases on which they are founded, the reader cannot fail to have been struck with the fate of this great kingdom. It can scarcely[239] be said to have declined; it fell at once. Not thirty years have elapsed since the great Almansor wielded the resources of Africa and Spain, and threatened the entire destruction of the Christians, whom he had driven into an obscure corner of this vast peninsula. Now Africa is lost; the Christians hold two-thirds of the country; the petty but independent governors, the boldest of whom trembled at the name of Almansor, openly insult the ruler of Cordova, whose authority extends little further than the walls of his capital. Assuredly, so astounding a catastrophe has no parallel in all history. Other kingdoms, indeed, as powerful as Cordova, have been perhaps as speedily deprived of their independence; but if they have been subdued by invading enemies, their resources, their vigour, to a certain extent their greatness have long survived their loss of that blessing. Cordova, in the very fullness of her strength, was torn to pieces by her turbulent children.

INDEPENDENT KINGDOMS

The decline and dissolution of the Mohammedan monarchy, or western caliphate afforded the ambitious local governors throughout the peninsula the opportunity for which they had long sighed—that of openly asserting their independence of Cordova and of assuming the title of kings.

But Cordova, however weakened, was not willing thus suddenly to lose her hold on her ancient subjects; she resolved to elect a sovereign who should endeavour to subdue these audacious rebels, and restore her ancient splendour. The disasters which had accompanied the last reigns of the Omayyad princes had strongly indisposed the people to the claims of that illustrious house. Jehwar ben Muhammed surrounded himself by a council which comprised some of the most distinguished citizens, and without the advice of which he undertook no one thing, not even the nomination to public offices. Of that council he was but the president, possessing but one vote like the remaining members; so that Cordova presented the appearance rather of a republic than of a monarchy. He introduced a degree of tranquillity and commercial activity unknown since the death of the great Almansor. But the same success did not attend him in his efforts to restore the supremacy of Cordova. Whatever might be the internal dissensions of the petty kings, the success of some, the failure of others, none thought of recognising his superiority. To recount the perpetually recurring struggles of these reguli for the increase of their states, their alliances, their transient successes or hopeless failures, or even their existence, would afford neither interest nor instruction to the reader. Such events only can be noticed as are either signal in themselves, or exercised more than a passing influence on the condition of the Mohammedan portion of the peninsula.

After triumphing over some neighbouring kings, who dreaded his increasing power, the sovereign of Seville prepared to invade the possessions of Jehwar; but death surprised him before those preparations were completed. His son, Muhammed Al-Mucteded, who succeeded him, was as ambitious as himself, but more luxurious. All southern Andalusia came into the power of Al-Mucteded, yet his ambition was far from satisfied. For some time he remained in alliance with Muhammed, the son and successor of Jehwar, in the throne of Cordova; but he gained possession of that ancient capital by stratagem. After many years of continued warfare, the king of Seville and Cordova became, not merely the most powerful, but almost the only independent sovereign of Mohammedan Spain.

[240]

Yahya al-Kadi, the son and successor of Ibn Dylnun on the throne of Toledo, inherited neither the courage nor the abilities of that prince. Sunk in the lowest sensuality, he regarded with indifference the growing success of Muhammed. He became at length so contemptible that his very subjects rose and expelled him. He applied for aid to the ally of his father, Alfonso VI king of Leon; but that prince, though under the greatest obligations to the memory of the father, was persuaded by the king of Seville to adopt a hostile policy towards the son. It seems, indeed, as if Muhammed and Alfonso, in the treaty which they concluded at the instance of the former, had tacitly agreed not to interrupt each other in the execution of the designs each had long formed. The victorious Alfonso triumphed over all opposition, and prosecuted the siege with a vigour which might have shown the misbelievers how formidable an enemy awaited them all, and how necessary were their combined efforts to resist him. But Muhammed, the only enemy whom the Christian hero had to dread, was no less occupied in deriving his share of the advantages secured by the treaty—in reducing the strong towns of Murcia and Granada. After a siege of three years, Toledo was reduced to the last extremity, and was compelled to capitulate. On the 25th of May, 1085 A.D., Alfonso triumphantly entered this ancient capital of the Goths, which had remained in the power of the misbelievers about 374 years.

The conquest of Toledo was far from satisfying the ambition of Alfonso; he rapidly seized on the fortresses of Madrid, Maqueda, Guadalajara, and established his dominion on both banks of the Tagus. Muhammed now began seriously to repent his treaty with the Christian, and to tremble even for his own possessions. He vainly endeavoured to divert his ally from the projects of aggrandisement which that ally had evidently formed. Muhammed saw that unless he leagued himself with those whose subjugation had hitherto been his constant object,—the princes of his faith,—his and their destruction was inevitable. The magnitude of the danger compelled him to solicit their alliance. Such resistance as Mohammedan Spain alone could offer seemed hopeless. With this conviction in their hearts two of the most influential cadis proposed an appeal to the celebrated African conqueror, Yusuf ben Tashufin, whose arm alone seemed able to preserve the faith of Islam in the peninsula. The proposal was received with general applause by all present; they did not make the very obvious reflection that when a nation admits into its bosom an ally more powerful than itself, it admits at the same time a conqueror. The wali of Malaga alone, Abdallah ben Zagut, had courage to oppose the dangerous embassy under consideration. “You mean to call in the aid of the Almoravids! Are you ignorant that these fierce inhabitants of the deserts resemble their own native tigers? Suffer them not, I beseech you, to enter the fertile plains of Andalusia and Granada! Doubtless they would break the iron sceptre which Alfonso intends for us; but you would still be doomed to wear the chains of slavery. Do you not know that Yusuf has taken all the cities of Almaghreb, that he has subdued the powerful tribes of the East and West, that he has everywhere substituted despotism for liberty and independence?” The aged Zagut spoke in vain.

THE ALMORAVIDS

Beyond the chain of Mount Atlas, in the deserts of ancient Gætulia, dwelt two tribes of Arabian descent. At what time they had been expelled, or had voluntarily exiled themselves from their native Yemen, they knew[241] not; but tradition taught them that they had been located in the African deserts from ages immemorial. Yahya ben Ibrahim, belonging to one of these tribes (that of Gudala), made the pilgrimage of Mecca. Being questioned by his new friend as to the religion and manners of his countrymen, he replied that they were sunk in ignorance, both from their isolated situation in the desert and from their want of teachers. He entreated the alfaqui to allow some one of his disciples to accompany him into his native country. With considerable difficulty Abdallah ben Yassim, the disciple of another alfaqui, was persuaded to accompany the patriotic Yahya. Abdallah was one of those ruling minds which, fortunately for the peace of society, nature so seldom produces. Seeing his enthusiastic reception by the tribe of Gudala, and the influence he was sure of maintaining over it, he formed the design of founding a sovereignty in the heart of these vast regions. He prevailed on his obedient disciples to make war on the kindred tribe of Lamtuna. His ambition naturally increased with his success; in a short time he had reduced, in a similar manner, the isolated tribes around him.

To his valiant followers of Lamtuna, he now gave the name of Al-Morabethun, or Almoravids, which signifies men consecrated to the service of God. The whole country of Darah was gradually subdued by this new apostle, and his authority was acknowledged over a region extensive enough to form a respectable kingdom. But though he exercised all the rights of sovereignty, he prudently abstained from assuming the title. He left to the emir of Lamtuna the ostensible exercise of temporal power; and when, in 1058 A.D., that emir fell in battle, he nominated Abu Bekr ben Omar to the vacant dignity. His own death, which was that of a warrior, left Abu Bekr in possession of an undivided sovereignty. The power, and consequently the reputation of the emir, spread far and wide. Abu Bekr looked around for a site on which he might lay the foundations of a great city, the destined metropolis of a great empire; and the city of Morocco began to rear its head from the valley of Eylana. Before, however, his great work was half completed, he received intelligence that the tribe of Gudala had declared a deadly war against that of Lamtuna. As he belonged to the latter, he naturally trembled for the fate of his kindred; and at the head of his cavalry he departed for his native deserts, leaving the command of the army, during his absence, to his cousin, Yusuf ben Tashufin.

Whatever were Yusuf’s other virtues, it will be seen that gratitude, honour, and good faith were not among the number. Scarcely had his kinsman left the city than, in pursuance of the design he had formed of usurping the supreme authority, he began to win the affections of the troops, partly by his gifts and partly by affability. Nor was his success in war less agreeable to so fierce and martial a people as the Almoravids. The Berbers were quickly subdued by him. He had long aspired to the hope of marrying the beautiful Zainab, sister of Abu Bekr; but the fear of a repulse from the proud chief of his family had caused him to smother his inclination. He now disdained to supplicate for that chief’s consent; he married the lady. Having put the finishing touch to his magnificent city of Morocco, he transferred thither the seat of his empire. The augmentation of his army was his next great object; and so well did he succeed in it that he found his troops exceeded one hundred thousand.

Yusuf had just completed the subjugation of Fez when Abu Bekr returned from the desert, and encamped in the vicinity of Agmat. With a force so far inferior to his rival’s, so far from demanding the restitution of his rights, he durst not even utter one word of complaint; on the contrary,[242] he pretended that he had long renounced empire, and that his only wish was to pass the remainder of his days in the retirement of the desert. With equal hypocrisy Yusuf humbly thanked him for his abdication; the sheikhs and walis were summoned to witness the renewed declaration of the emir, after which the two princes separated. The following day, however, Abu Bekr received a magnificent present from Yusuf, who, indeed, continued to send him one every year to the period of his death.

Yusuf had just exchanged his humble title of emir for that of al-muslimin, or prince of the believers, and of nazir ed-din, or defender of the faith, when letters from Muhammed reached him. Before he returned a final answer to the king of Seville, he insisted that the fortress of Algeciras should be placed in his hands, on the pretence that if fortune were unpropitious he should have some place to which he might retreat. That Muhammed should have been so blind as not to perceive the designs involved in the insidious proposal is almost enough to make one agree with the Arabic historians, that destiny had decreed he should fall by his own measures.

Alfonso was besieging Saragossa, which he had every expectation of reducing, when intelligence reached him of Yusuf’s disembarkation. He resolved to meet the approaching storm. At the head of all the forces he could muster he advanced towards Andalusia, and encountered Yusuf on the plains of Zallaka (1086). Alfonso was severely wounded and compelled to retreat, but not until nightfall, nor until he had displayed a valour worthy of the greatest heroes. Yusuf now proclaimed the Al-hijed, or holy war, and invited all the Andalusian princes to join him. But this demonstration of force proved as useless as the preceding; it ended in nothing; owing partly to the dissensions of the Mohammedans and partly to the activity of the Christians, who not only rendered abortive the measures of the enemy but gained some signal advantages over them. Yusuf was forced to retreat on Almeida. Whether through the distrust of the Mohammedan princes, who appear to have penetrated his intention of subjecting them to his empire, or through his apprehension of Alfonso, he again returned to Africa, to procure new and more considerable levies. He landed a third time at Algeciras, not so much with the view of humbling the Christian king as of executing the perfidious design he had so long formed. For form’s sake, indeed, he invested Toledo, but he could have entertained no expectation of reducing it; and when he perceived that the Andalusian princes refused to join him, he eagerly left that city, and proceeded to secure far dearer and easier interests. He openly threw off the mask, and commenced his career of spoliation. After the fall of Muhammed, Yusuf had little difficulty in subduing the remaining princes of Andalusia.

Thus ended the petty kingdoms of Andalusia, after a stormy existence of about sixty years, and thus commenced the dynasty of the Almoravids. For some years after the usurpation of Yusuf, peace appears to have subsisted in Spain between the Mohammedans and the Christians. Fearing a new irruption of Africans, Alfonso contented himself with fortifying Toledo; and Yusuf felt little inclination to renew the war with one whose prowess he had so fatally experienced. But Christian Spain was, at one moment, near the brink of ruin. The passion for the Crusades was no less ardently felt by the Spaniards than by other nations of Europe. Fortunately, Pope Paschal II, in answer to the representations of Alfonso, declared that the proper post of every Spaniard was at home, and there were his true enemies. Yusuf returned to Morocco in 1103, where he died in 1106, after living one hundred Arabian or about ninety-seven Christian years.

[243]

Ali was only in his twenty-third year when he succeeded his father, whose military talents he inherited, and whom he surpassed in generosity. On the death of Alfonso, in 1109 A.D., Ali entered Spain at the head of one hundred thousand men, to prosecute in person the war against the Christians. But though he laid waste the territory of Toledo, and invested that city, he soon abandoned the siege. A second army sent by Ali had no better success. In 1118 Saragossa, after a siege of some months, fell into the power of the Christians, and the north of Spain was forever freed from the domination of the Mohammedans. The following year the Aragonian hero destroyed twenty thousand of the Africans, who had advanced as far as the environs of Daroca; while another division of the Almoravids, under Ali in person, was compelled to retreat before the army of Leon and Castile.

At this very time the empire of the Almoravids was tottering to its fall. It had never been agreeable to the Mohammedans of Spain, whose manners, from their intercourse with a civilised people, were comparatively refined. The sheikhs of Lamtuna were so many insupportable tyrants; the Jews, the universal agents for the collection of the revenues, were here, as in Poland, the most pitiless extortioners; every savage from the desert looked with contempt on the milder inhabitant of the peninsula. The domination of those strangers was indeed so odious that, except for the divisions between Alfonso and his ambitious queen, Donna Urraca, who was sovereign in her own right, all Andalusia might speedily have been subjected to the Christian yoke. Even while Ali remained in Spain, there was an open revolt of the inhabitants, who could not longer support the excesses of the barbarian guard.

But the cause which most menaced the existence of Ali’s throne, and which was destined to change the whole face of western Africa and southern Spain, originated, like the power of Yusuf ben Tashufin, in the deserts bordering on Mount Atlas. Muhammed ben Abdallah, the son of a lamp-lighter in the mosque of Cordova, was distinguished for great curiosity and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. Whether Muhammed was a fanatic or a knave, or composed of a large mixture of both, is not easy to be determined. He wandered from place to place, zealously preaching doctrines dangerous to the faith of Islam. His reception, however, was long cool; and from one town, where he had held forth in the mosque, he was compelled to flee to Tlemcen. On his way he fell in with a youth, Abdul-Mumin by name, whom he persuaded to share his fortunes. The two friends subsequently travelled to Fez, and thence to Morocco.

The artful rebel was permitted to follow his vocation till the excitement produced by his fanatic appeals to the ignorant populace was too great to be overlooked, and he was ordered to leave Morocco. At a short distance from the city, however, probably in its public cemetery, he built a hut among the graves, as a residence for himself and his faithful Abdul-Mumin. As he had anticipated, he was soon followed by crowds who venerated his prophetic character, and who listened with pleasure to vehement denunciations which fell with terrific effect on their superiors. He inveighed against the impiety of the Almoravids, who appear not to have been more popular in Mauretania than in Spain. Ali ordered the rebel to be secured. Muhammed, who had timely notice of the fate intended him, fled to Agmat, accompanied by a host of proselytes; but finding that his liberty was still in danger, he hastily retreated to Tinmal in the province of Sus. His success in this region was so great that he had soon an army of disciples, all devoted to his will, because all believed in his divine mission. For some time he preached to them the[244] coming of the great mahdi, who should teach all men the right way and cause virtue and happiness to reign over the whole earth; but he carefully refrained from acknowledging himself to be the mighty prophet, doubtless because he was fearful of shocking the credulity even of his own followers. One day, in conformity with a preconcerted plan, as he was expatiating on the change to be effected by the long-promised teacher and ruler, Abdul-Mumin and nine other men arose, saying: “Thou announcest a mahdi; the description applies only to thyself. Be our mahdi and imam; we swear to obey thee!” The Berbers, influenced by the example, in the same manner arose and vowed fidelity even unto death.

From this moment he assumed the high title of mahdi, and proclaimed himself as the founder of a new people. He instituted a regular government, confiding the administration to Abdul-Mumin, his minister, with nine associates, but reserving the control to himself. Seventy Berbers or Alarabs formed the council of the new government. An army of ten thousand horse and a far greater number of foot was speedily organised, with which he took the road to Agmat just as Ali returned to Morocco from Spain. The Almohads [Unitarians], for such was the name assumed by the followers of Muhammed, defeated the troops of Ali four times.

At length Muhammed resolved to reduce the capital of Morocco. At his voice forty thousand men took the field. The preparations of Ali were immense; one hundred thousand men were ranged round his standard. They were again defeated, were pursued to the very walls of Morocco, and that capital was invested with a vigour which showed that the Almohads were intent on its reduction. But Ali led his troops against the rebels, whom he completely routed. Abdul-Mumin rallied the fugitives, and effected an orderly retreat. But time was necessary to repair the misfortune, especially as some of the savage tribes of the desert withdrew from Muhammed’s banner, on finding that his power was that of a mere mortal.

In 1130 the mahdi commanded all to assemble the following day near the great mosque, to bid adieu to their chief. All wondered at the command, except such as were acquainted with his long hidden disease. He exhorted them to persevere in the doctrine he had taught them; announced his approaching death; and when he saw them dissolved in tears, inculcated the duty of resignation to the divine will. He then retired with his beloved disciple, to whom he presented the book containing the tenets of his faith—a book which he had received from the hands of Al-Gazali. The fourth day he expired. The chiefs of the state were soon afterwards assembled to deliberate on the form of government; a monarchy was chosen; and by their unanimous suffrages Abdul-Mumin was proclaimed imam and almumenin.

For the next three years the new caliph was diligently employed in extending his conquests. The whole country, from the mountains of Darah to Salee, all Fez and Tasa, received his spiritual and temporal yoke. The empire of the Almoravids was now bounded within a narrow sphere. Ali became dejected and unhappy; his troops were everywhere defeated; his towns were rapidly delivered into the power of a savage enemy, who had vowed his destruction; and though, in compliance with the advice of his counsellors, he associated with him in the empire his son Tashufin, whose exploits in Spain had obtained him much celebrity, that prince was too busily occupied with the Christians and his discontented subjects of Andalusia to prop the declining empire in Africa.

Tashufin ben Ali succeeded in 1143 to his father, who died at Morocco—more from grief at the declining state of affairs than from any other cause.[245] His first object was to assemble an army to strike another blow for the defence of his empire. At first he was successful. Abdul-Mumin was compelled to fall back on his mountain; but in a second action Tashufin was defeated; in a third he was also compelled to retreat. Ali saw that his only hope of safety lay in an escape to Spain. One night he resolved to make a desperate effort to gain the port where his vessels were still riding at anchor. Unfortunately either he mistook his way or his mule was terrified by the roaring of the waves, for the next morning his mangled corpse was found at the foot of a precipice on the beach.

But Morocco, Fez, and some other cities were yet in the power of the Almoravids, who raised Ibrahim Abu Ishak, son of Tashufin, to the throne. The vindictive Abdul-Mumin, however, left them little time to breathe. Tlemcen he took by assault, and massacred the inhabitants; Fez he also reduced. The siege of Morocco was prosecuted with vigour. The inhabitants were so fatally repulsed in a sortie that they durst no longer venture outside the walls. Famine soon aided the sword; the number who died of starvation is said to have amounted to three-fourths of the whole population. Such a place could not long hold out; and accordingly it was carried in the first general assault. Ibrahim and the surviving sheikhs were instantly brought before the conqueror. Not only were he and his chiefs led out to instant execution, but a general massacre of the surviving inhabitants was ordered. The few who were spared were sold as slaves; the mosques were destroyed and new ones erected; and the tribes of the desert were called to re-people the now solitary streets.

During these memorable exploits in Africa, the Christians were rapidly increasing their dominions. Coria, Mora, etc., were in the power of Alfonso, styled the emperor; and almost every contest between the two natural enemies had turned to the advantage of the Christians. So long, indeed, as the walis were eager only to preserve or to extend their authority, independent of each other and of every superior, this success need not surprise us; we may rather be surprised that the Mohammedans were allowed to retain any footing in the peninsula. Probably they would at this time have been driven from it but for the seasonable arrival of the victorious Almohads. Both Christians and Africans now contended for the superiority. While the troops of Alfonso reduced Baeza, and with a Mohammedan ally even Cordova,[246] Malaga and Seville acknowledged Abu Amram. Calatrava and Almeria next fell to the Christian emperor, about the same time that Lisbon and the neighbouring towns received Dom Henry (Henrique), the new sovereign of Portugal. Most of these conquests, however, were subsequently recovered by the Almohads. Being reinforced by a new army from Africa, the latter pursued their successes with greater vigour. They reduced Cordova, which was held by an ally of Alfonso; defeated, and forever paralysed, the expiring efforts of the Almoravids; and proclaimed their emperor Abdul-Mumin as sovereign of all Mohammedan Spain (1146).

DYNASTY OF THE ALMOHADS

Abdul-Mumin, as if desirous of subduing not merely what had formed the empire of the Almoravids but all the regions which owned the faith of Islam, levied army after army; so that from Portugal to Tunis and Kairwan his wild hordes spread devastation and dismay. To detail the events of the wars sustained by his general, or his son the cid Yusuf, in Andalusia, would afford little interest to the reader. It will be sufficient to observe that, by slow but sure degrees, the whole of Andalusia was incorporated with his empire. Once only did he visit Spain, if remaining a few hours at Gibraltar can deserve the name. In 1162 he breathed his last. On his accession, Yusuf Abu Yakub dismissed the enormous army which had been collected. During the following few years he appears to have cultivated the blessings of peace; it was not until 1170 that he entered Spain, and all Mohammedan Spain owned the emperor.

Notwithstanding the destructive wars which had prevailed near a century, neither Moors nor Christians had acquired much advantage by them. From the reduction of Saragossa to the present time, the victory, indeed, had generally declared for the Christians; but their conquests, with the exception of Lisbon and a few fortresses in central Spain, were lost almost as soon as gained; and the same fate attended the equally transient successes of the Mohammedans. The reason why the former did not permanently extend their territories, was their internal dissensions. The Christians, when at peace among themselves, were always too many for their Mohammedan neighbours, even when the latter were aided by the whole power of western Africa.

Yakub ben Yusuf, from his victories afterwards named Al-Mansur, was declared successor to his father. For some years he was not personally opposed to the Christians, though his walis carried on a desultory indecisive war. In 1194 he landed in Andalusia, and proceeded towards Valencia, where the Christian army then lay. There Alfonso VIII, king of Castile, was awaiting the expected reinforcements from his allies, the kings of Leon and Navarre. Both armies pitched their tents on the plains of Alarcon. The chiefs of both naturally felt anxious for the result; but the charge of rashness cannot be erased from the memory of Alfonso, for venturing to withstand alone a conflict with the overwhelming force of the enemy, instead of falling back to effect a junction with his allies. His loss must have been immense, amounting probably to twenty thousand men. With a generosity very rare in a Mohammedan, and still more in an African, Yakub restored his prisoners to liberty—an action for which, we are informed, he received few thanks from his followers. After this signal victory Yakub rapidly reduced Calatrava, Guadalaxara, Madrid and Esalona, Salamanca, etc.[247] Toledo, too, he invested, but in vain. He returned to Africa, caused his son Muhammed to be declared wali alhadi, and died (1199). He was, beyond doubt, the greatest and best of the Almohads.

The character of Muhammed Abu Abdallah, surnamed An-Nasir, was very different from that of his great father. Much as the world had been astounded at the preparations of his grandfather Yusuf, they were not surpassed by his own, if, as we are credibly informed, one alone of the five divisions of his army amounted to 160,000 men. It is certain that a year was required for the assembling of this vast armament, that two months were necessary to convey it across the straits, and that all Christian Europe was filled with alarm at its disembarkation. Innocent III proclaimed a crusade to Spain; and Rodrigo of Toledo, the celebrated historian, accompanied by several prelates, went from one court to another to rouse the Christian princes. While the kings of Aragon and Navarre promised to unite their forces with their brother of Castile to repel the common danger, great numbers of volunteers from Portugal and southern France hastened to the general rendezvous at Toledo, the pope ordered fasting, prayers, and processions to be made, to propitiate the favour of heaven, and to avert from Christendom the greatest danger that had threatened it since the days of the emir Abd ar-Rahman.

THE BATTLE OF LAS NAVAS DE TOLOSA (1212 A.D.)

Muhammed opened the campaign by the siege of Salvatierra, a strong but not important fortress of Estremadura, defended by the knights of Calatrava. That he should waste his forces on objects so incommensurate with their extent, proves how little he was qualified to wield them. The place stood out for several months, and did not surrender until the emperor had sustained a heavy loss, nor until the season was too far advanced to permit any advantage to be derived from this partial success. By suspending the execution of his great design until the following season, he allowed Alfonso time to prepare for the contest. The following June, the kings of Leon and Castile having assembled at Toledo, and been joined by a considerable number of foreign volunteers, the Christian army advanced towards the south.

On July 12th, the crusaders reached the mountainous chain which divides New Castile from Andalusia. They found not only the passes, but the summits of the mountains occupied by the Almohads. To force a passage was impossible; and they even deliberated on retreating, so as to draw out, if possible, the enemy from positions so formidable, when a shepherd entered the camp of Alfonso, and proposed to conduct the Christian army, by a path unknown to both armies, to the summit of this elevated chain—by a path, too, which would be invisible to the enemy’s outposts. A few companies having accompanied the man, and found him equally faithful and well informed, the whole army silently ascended, and entrenched themselves on the summit, the level of which was extensive enough to contain them all. Below appeared the widespread tents of the Moslems, whose surprise was great on perceiving the heights thus occupied by the crusaders. For two days the latter, whose fatigues had been harassing, kept their position; but on the third day they descended into the plains of Tolosa, which were about to be immortalised by their valour. Their right wing was led by the king of Navarre, their left by the king of Aragon, while Alfonso took his station in the centre. The attack was made by the Christian centre against that of the Mohammedans; and immediately the two wings moved against those of the enemy.

[248]

The struggle was terrific, but short; myriads of the barbarians fell, the boundary was first broken down by the king of Navarre, the Castilians and Aragonese followed, all opponents were massacred or fled, and the victors began to ascend the eminence on which Muhammed still remained. Muhammed mounted a mule and soon outstripped not only the pursuers but the fugitives. The carnage of the latter was dreadful, until darkness put an end to it. The victors now occupied the tents of the Mohammedans, while the two martial prelates sounded the Te Deum for the most splendid success which had shone on the banners of the Christians since the time of Charles Martel. The loss of the Africans, even according to the Arabian writers, who admit that the centre was wholly destroyed, could not fall short of 160,000 men.

The reduction of several towns, from Tolosa to Baeza, immediately followed this glorious victory—a victory in which Don Alfonso nobly redeemed his failure in the field of Zallaka, and which, in its immediate consequences, involved the ruin of the Mohammedan empire in Spain. After an unsuccessful attempt on Ubeda, as the hot season was raging, the allies returned to Toledo, satisfied that the power of Muhammed was forever broken. That emperor, indeed, did not long survive his disaster. Having precipitately fled to Morocco, he abandoned himself to licentious pleasures, left the cares of government to his son, or rather his ministers, and died in 1213, not without suspicion of poison.c

THE DECLINE OF ARAB POWER

After the dissolution of the Almohad empire Africa and Spain, without severing any of the ties that bound their populations together, ceased forever to obey the same government. This separation would have had no disastrous consequences for Islam if the tribes of Maghreb had not set so high a price upon their assistance that the Spanish Arabs were unable to accept it. The Maghrebites did indeed cross the strait several times after 1232, but these expeditions served merely to assure the triumphs of the Christians, who drew together in closer and closer union.

The defeat of Tolosa had, by demonstrating the incapacity of Muhammed an-Nasir, precipitated the insurrection of Andalusia; and in Africa the power founded by Abdul-Mumin was as rapidly declining, owing to the failure of the Almohad princes to display the necessary decision and address. As early as 1242 the wali of Tunis refused to renew the tribute which as vassal he was bound to pay, caused himself to be proclaimed an independent sovereign, and founded on the most solid basis the dynasty of the house of Abu Hass, which was destined to endure through several centuries. Farther to the west, in 1248, the Beni Zian family established their supremacy at Tlemcen, Algiers, and in the neighbourhood of Fez; while in the Maghreb the tribe of Beni Merin raised the standard of revolt and menaced Fez, Tasa, and Morocco. For twenty years the Almohads held their ground against their enemies; but all the courage they displayed was rendered useless by their own intestine strife, and in 1270 the Merinid, Abu Yusuf, received the allegiance of the Arabian Moors, or Berbers, of western Africa.

It would be impossible to-day to determine exactly the extent of the territories controlled by the revolting tribes, but in the beginning their domains, without doubt, included Bougie and Algiers and extended from Tlemcen to the Atlantic. Their frontier lines must, in any case, have been constantly changing, as the rulers of the three states waged incessant war against each[249] other, and emigration and displacements were continually taking place. A chronological list of the princes who succeeded each other at Tunis, Tlemcen, and Morocco, during the period that extended from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century, would teach us little of an epoch concerning which very few documents exist. The most we know is that the cities of Tunis, Bougie, Algiers, Tlemcen, Fez, and Morocco retained under the Abu Hass, the Beni Zian, and the Beni Merin the importance and splendour that had been theirs under the Zairites and the Omayyads, and could still cite with pride the names of many great artists and scholars. The ancient maritime power of the Aghlabites had fallen never to rise again; but bands of pirates were organised which inflicted great damage on Christians, and vessels leaving the Atlantic ports began to descend the coasts of Africa to the tropics, where they carried on a great trade in gold, amber, and negro slaves.

Naturally the Arabs were drawn into all the disputes that arose between the different sovereigns of Africa, but they experienced no serious results from any of them. Once in 1347, and again in 1359, the Merinid chiefs had succeeded in overcoming Tlemcen and Tunis; but the deposed rulers soon recovered their thrones and continued to reign over the populations they had trained to obedience. Of the three African dynasties that of Abu Hass experienced the fewest turmoils and disorders. While in Maghreb two rivals of equal force disputed for supremacy over the capitals of Fez and Morocco, and in Tlemcen the Beni Zian were obliged to resist the encroachments of formidable neighbours, the kings in Tunis were powerful enough to command the respect of all other cities near, and to wrest Tripoli from the warlike mamelukes of Egypt, the rulers who had succeeded to the Eyyubid sultans.

Having apparently accomplished their mission, the Arabs no longer sought to make the cause of Islam triumph, but little by little withdrew to the obscurity and monotony of a desert life. Even in 1270, at the time of the last crusade of St. Louis, they displayed nothing like the courage that had characterised them on former occasions, being content to sign a disadvantageous treaty with Charles of Anjou, by which they bound themselves to receive French and Italian merchandise free of duty, and to permit the free practice of Catholicism throughout their states.

Later the Spaniards and the Portuguese conquered the African cities which command the Straits of Gibraltar, and sent into the interior as many troops as the Africans had formerly sent into Spain. When they had become[250] masters of Algeciras and Tarifa, the Portuguese, who first undertook these enterprises, seized Alemtejo and Algarve and then decided to carry into other countries that spirit of adventure which had led them to demand on sea the wealth and power that were denied them on land. In 1415 they took possession of Ceuta, which they had to defend against Edward, second of the house of Braganza, but were finally able to retain by allowing to remain in irons a child that they had delivered over as hostage. Between 1439-1481 Alfonso V conquered the important cities of Tangiers and Arzillo. Nevertheless the Portuguese had little thought of extending their conquests further, but were devoting themselves to commerce and navigation, in the interests of which they made those maritime discoveries that were to raise them so high among nations and send their ships into so many unknown waters of the globe.

It has not been sufficiently pointed out how fatal to the Arabs of Spain was the occupancy by the Portuguese of Tangiers, Ceuta, and Arzillo. Hitherto the Moslems in Maghreb could come to the assistance of their brothers in Spain without looking upon themselves as interested parties to the dispute. But after the Portuguese came to command the strait, with power to intercept all communications between the two continents, the last blow to Mohammedan unity was struck by the Christian princes.

Once the Catholic sovereigns had become masters of the Mediterranean ports of the peninsula, they enlarged their navy that the Moslem fleets might be constantly held in check, and after the fall of the monarchy of Granada they penetrated deep into Africa. In 1504 Diego of Cordova took several places between Ceuta and Oran, and in 1509 Cardinal Ximenes, minister to Ferdinand of Aragon, organised and directed a much more important expedition. Instead of attacking the younger branch of the Merinids at Morocco, he advanced on Tlemcen and Algiers, the double realm of the Beni Zian, and taking the city of Oran established there a strong garrison.

These encroachments on the part of Christians must be stopped at any cost. Meeting with nothing but supineness and indifference among the Moors and Arabs whom he approached, Eutemi, king of Algiers, finally implored the assistance of Horuj, the celebrated pirate of Mytilene, who was at the head of a considerable fleet. Accepting these overtures with alacrity, Horuj repaired to Algiers with a force of five thousand men (1516); but after entering the city he caused Eutemi to be assassinated, and himself usurped the government. He further profited by the terror he had caused to attack Tlemcen and drive forth the Beni Zian; but in 1518 the Spaniards engaged him in a battle in which he lost his life, leaving Tlemcen in the hands of his enemies.

In no wise discouraged by this reverse, the brother of Horuj, Khair ad-Din, better known under the name of Barbarossa, succeeded in getting himself acknowledged ruler by the inhabitants of Algiers and establishing his dominion on solid foundations throughout the country; he drove the Spaniards back into Oran, where he kept them confined. Fear, nevertheless, of the superior numbers of the Christians and the mutability of the Arab spirit caused him to seek for his states the protection of the supreme ruler who, at his request, sent him troops of Turkish militia from Constantinople. Barbarossa then took the title of regent, and in the name of the Ottoman sultan exercised the highest authority over all the states of Algiers.

We have witnessed in Asia the gradual substitution of the Turks for the Arabs as defenders of the Moslem faith; and we shall now assist at a repetition of the same process in Africa. This was, too, the epoch of greatest[251] power of the sultans in Constantinople. Suleiman, master of Egypt, of Asia Minor, of Greece, and Bulgaria, threatened simultaneously Persia and Hungary, and he alone was capable of protecting Africa against the redoubtable might of Charles V. Far from injuring the cause of Islam, the arrival of these new auxiliaries in the Maghreb should have given it a fresh impetus; but exactly the reverse took place. From the day the Arabs came under subjection to the Turks, all the noble sentiments and generous impulses that had before characterised them gave place to a hopeless condition of servility and degradation; bowed under the yoke of an insolent military body that enforced obedience at the point of the sword, they lost that natural pride that had set them apart from other races, and little by little fell into the brutish torpor that has been their prevailing state in modern times, and which has caused us to judge them wrongfully as showing antagonism to all ideas of civilisation.

The Turks had sway not only over Algiers but over Tunis and Tripoli, and it was to Barbarossa that they owed these further triumphs. Placed by Suleiman in command of the Ottoman fleet, the brother of Horuj thought it necessary to repay this distinction by brilliant services. Having given refuge in Algiers to a deposed prince of the house of Abu Hass, Barbarossa presented himself at Tunis, ostensibly for the purpose of re-establishing its legitimate ruler, but in reality to pave the way for Ottoman dominion. Suleiman, acquainted with his designs, publicly conferred the investiture on the restored prince, who was immediately afterward spirited away: and Barbarossa seized the fort and town of Goletta, and put down the revolt of the inhabitants in the name of the Ottoman ruler, to whom they remained long under subjection.

Meanwhile Christian sovereigns looked on with anxiety while the capitals of the Barbary states were passing into the possession of a power already so formidable; and Charles V, king of Spain and emperor of Germany, determined to check at once the increase of Ottoman dominion. Taking sides with the Abu Hass he embarked in 1535 with troops gathered from the Netherlands, Italy, and Sicily, and landed not far from the ruins of Carthage. Barbarossa had been able to provision the fort of Goletta, but could not rally to his standard the Arab tribes; and Goletta, bravely defended by Sinan, the renegade Jew, was taken by the Christian forces. Tunis itself, Barbarossa being defeated, was forced to open its doors to the victors, and all its riches became the prey of the European soldiers. The prince of the house of Abu Hass, whose interests Charles V had espoused, was reinstated on the throne under the following conditions: (1) that he was to hold the kingdom of Tunis as a fief to the crown of Spain; (2) that all Christian slaves should be restored to liberty without ransom; (3) that the subjects of the emperor in his domain should be free to engage in commerce and practise the Christian religion; (4) that twelve thousand crowns should be contributed towards the maintenance of a Spanish garrison in Goletta; and (5) that all the ports of the kingdom of Tunis should be delivered over into the hands of the emperor. Brilliant as was this expedition, it did not completely destroy African piracy, Algiers having been left still undisturbed. Barbarossa’s successor, Hassan Aga, committed new depredations, and soon intercepted all the commerce of the Mediterranean Sea. It became necessary to establish guards along the coasts of Italy, Sicily, and Spain to keep off the incursions of Barbary pirates who, it was asserted, were secretly encouraged by the Arabs still residing on the continent. Charles V got together a new fleet and undertook to reduce Algiers (1541). But the elements were against him from the start, and being assailed at a propitious moment by the[252] Algerian Turks and certain tribes of Arabs whose religious fanaticism had been excited, the imperial army suffered complete and disastrous defeat.

This unfortunate enterprise also restored the preponderance to the Turks. As soon as circumstances permitted they sent a fleet against the knights of St. John whom Charles V had made masters of Tripoli and reconquered the state in 1551. The government was given into the hands of the celebrated Dragut, who ten years later in concert with Piali Pasha was to achieve another great naval victory.

After the battle of Lepanto, John of Austria marched on Tunis, which offered but a feeble resistance; hardly had he turned his back, however, on the conquered domain, when Sinan Pasha hurried from Tripoli and everywhere re-established the authority of the sultan. Henceforth the Turks were masters over all Tunis and Algiers, and expeditions directed against them had no longer any object save to demand reparation or to punish them for acts of piracy.

Morocco, on the other hand, always remained independent of the Ottoman rule. The Merinids were succeeded in the fifteenth century by the Oatazes, who were in turn replaced by the Sherifs, whose dynasty continues to this day. The adroit personages who had created the grandeur of Morocco were looked upon as the legitimate descendants of Mohammed, and to the brothers of the reigning king, not his children, fell the succession to the throne. This law was the cause of much disturbance in the state, and in 1578 it formed the pretext for a famous expedition directed against Morocco by Dom Sebastian, king of Portugal. The sherif Abdallah having died, his son, Mulei Muhammed, had at first had the advantage over his uncle in the dispute for the succession; but being at last defeated Muhammed betook himself to Portugal, where he hoped to persuade the king, by the promise of large rewards, to assist him in gaining the crown. Carried away by enthusiasm, Sebastian embarked; and having in his possession the coat of arms worn by Charles V at his entry into Tunis, he imagined that he should exceed all that emperor’s exploits, and perhaps place the cross over the mosques of Morocco and Fez. He was taken at a disadvantage, however, by the Arabs at Kasr al-Kebir, and he and his little troop found themselves confronted by the dire alternative of achieving victory or meeting death. In this supreme moment Sebastian’s courage did not desert him; it served to make illustrious his defeat and dying moments. The two competitors also perished the same day; one by drowning in the river Mucazin, and the other as the result of a fever which he had disregarded in the haste and ardour of his preparations. Made wise by this terrible experience, the Portuguese did not renew their attempts against Africa, and the sherifs had further only to repress the internal dissensions that so frequently arose in their domains.

Such was the situation of the Arabs in Africa during the seventeenth century. They had still a sort of preponderance in Morocco; but in Algiers, Tunis, and Tripoli the Turks had become masters of the cities of the coast, and imposed upon them the severest rule. The different tribes, armed against each other by the astute policy of their oppressors, and terrorised by frequent and sanguinary executions, paid the tribute demanded of them without daring to murmur, and never even dreamed of throwing off the yoke under which they laboured.

We will return now to the Arabs in Spain, who had struck the first and most damaging blow at the empire of the Almohads. In addition to the garrisons the Africans placed among them, the populations had still to resist[253] the domination of the Christians; and in order to effect this the most perfect unity would have been necessary, with the complete sacrifice of all private interests to the national welfare. But, as we have seen, instead of possessing a strongly constituted central government, the Spanish Arabs were divided up into a number of independent states, and the Catholic princes took advantage of this dismemberment to separately overcome them. James I, not content with the conquest of the Balearic Isles, undertook to gain possession of Valencia, and in his enthusiasm for this project abstained from urging against Thibaut de Champagne the rights his birth gave him to the crown of Navarre, thus gaining for himself an ally in the person of a prince who could furnish him with substantial aid. The king of Valencia struggled hard to defend his possessions, but the disunion among the Moslems and the bad faith of the walis, who for bribes delivered over to the enemy all the cities adjacent to the capital, caused Valencia finally to be invested both by land and by sea. Too feeble to resist longer, the Moslem king invoked the aid of the other sovereigns of Africa, but all were too busy with their own affairs, and Valencia fell into the hands of James (Jayme), under conditions that enabled the inhabitants to leave in freedom, or to remain with full protection for their property and religious liberty (1238).

Valencia conquered, James next sought to extend his dominion over the kingdom of Murcia, but the king of Castile, by a powerful intervention (1241), succeeded in turning him from all schemes of aggrandisement. The kingdom of Murcia, less powerful than that of Valencia, was divided among a great many different tribes whose chiefs, all jealous of each other’s authority, hastened to submit to Ferdinand III under the best conditions they could obtain. The wali of Lorca alone held out for independence; but two years later his cities were also taken by assault, and the entire kingdom of Murcia passed over to the crown of Castile.

Another acquisition of far greater importance had, moreover, been made by this crown since 1232. In the coveted regions of Guadalquivir, Ibn Hud had at first been able to take an energetic stand against Ferdinand III; but lacking utterly the resources necessary for carrying on a protracted struggle, he was at last obliged to surrender Ubeda and Andujar, and could not prevent siege being laid to Cordova. The peril which threatened the capital should have aroused the courage and ardour of the Moslems in its defence, but nothing of the sort occurred; Ibn Hud was assassinated in the midst of his preparations for resistance, and the city was obliged to capitulate. Thus was extinguished the glory of the Islam metropolis in the West, the city of arts and Moslem luxury and magnificence. Ferdinand III placed the cross on the minarets of the great mosques, and returned to Compostella the bells of St. James that Almansor had carried away as trophies.

The time had come for the Arabs to bid farewell to the memories of their past triumphs and glories; they witnessed the profanation of all their sanctuaries without venturing to make the supreme effort that might still have saved them. Ferdinand’s victories now followed in quick succession. After taking several cities he encountered and defeated, before Alcala, Muhammed ben al-Akhmar, who had gotten himself acknowledged in the states of Ibn Hud. The Moslems displayed great courage in this engagement; and Ferdinand, after taking possession of the vast domain ceded to him by Muhammed ben al-Akhmar, agreed to leave him in peace provided he would pay him an annual tribute, furnish a certain number of troops in case of war, and appear in person at the assemblies or cortes of Castile. He reserved to himself the right of aggression against the Arabs of the[254] Algarve and Guadalquivir, who were still divided into many small states. Seville, the ancient capital of the Almoravids and the Almohads, the capture of which would forever prevent the union of the Algarve with the Sierra Nevada Moslems, was suddenly invested, and in the camp of the enemy were plainly to be seen Muhammed ben al-Akhmar and his five hundred horsemen. The city resisted long, being in constant receipt of supplies from Moslem sources by way of the Guadalquivir, and it was not until Ferdinand III equipped a small fleet and surrounded the mouth of the Guadalquivir that the inhabitants, threatened by famine, capitulated. The same favourable terms were accorded to them as to the Arabs of Valencia (1248).

Upon the taking of Seville ensued the submission of all the states lying upon the right bank of the Guadalquivir; hence the complete downfall of the Arab race could not be far distant. Yet the inevitable result was somewhat retarded by Muhammed ben al-Akhmar, whose courage and ability reminded the Arabs of the qualities of the famed Almansor, and who brought into being a powerful Moslem state which for a while opposed a formidable barrier to the spread of Christian influence. Granada, its capital, became soon the rallying-point of the Moslems dispersed all over the country, and the beneficence of this remarkable prince’s rule attracted to his states all who were not disposed to accept the Spanish domination. Emigrants from Cordova and Seville found a cordial welcome at Muhammed’s court, and their number was also increased by the Moslem population which James expelled, in 1249, from the plains about Valencia. It can readily be seen what an advantage to Granada was the presence of all these active, intelligent inhabitants; the elements of wealth and success that the Arabs had strewn all over the peninsula now returned upon them in a single flood; and Islam, rising once more under the astonished gaze of Spain, enjoyed a second period of glory (1238-1492).

The luxury and gallantry of the court of Granada have remained famous to this day. Tourneys and jousts were given, and frequent bull-fights and races. The people were often invited by the sovereign to solemn festivals and splendid banquets, and all this opulence was by no means the result of[255] oppression, but sprang naturally from the condition of ease which prevailed among all classes. La Veja, the fertile plain which surrounds Granada, produced in that day three times what it does in this, and could easily support a considerable population. The manufacture of silks and other stuffs attained the highest point of excellence, the fine arts were cultivated as successfully as at Cordova, and to stimulate invention prizes were offered in every department of endeavour. The names Alhambra and Generalif awaken in the mind images of the greatest richness and splendour. The Alhambra was at once the palace and fortress of the Moorish kings; Generalif was a magnificent pleasure palace built near the Alhambra on the summit of a hill, and serving as a summer residence for the nobles of the court.

Astronomy, medicine, chemistry, and mathematics were widely encouraged, and from that period dates the discovery of gunpowder. In the universities, which were restricted in their method of instruction, were taught grammar, geography, dialectics, and an obscurely formulated system of theology; also a great impulsion was given to the writing of those stories and romances which, in spite of their numerous affectations, have so many warm admirers to-day. In regard to political institutions the sovereigns of Granada accomplished much that was too important to be passed by in silence. In every city they established a sort of national guard by placing all the citizens under arms; and in order that the frontiers might be more effectively protected, soldiers were given grants of land on the borders, sufficient to maintain themselves and their families. The price of the necessaries of life was never allowed to rise beyond a certain point, and the kings themselves saw to it that the markets were always well supplied.

All the details of life in the capital were strictly regulated, and a capital police force patrolled the streets at night. Certain of the princes, following the rigorous proscriptions of the Koran, prohibited the use of spirituous liquors; but for the most part it was the abuse alone that was severely punished. A successful effort was made to prevent Jews from practising usury with as great freedom as elsewhere; and to avoid litigation and dispute, public acts and private treaties were drawn up in terms of great clearness and precision. Wise measures were adopted in all that pertained to the practice of religion. The feasts of Ramadhan, instead of being set apart for folly and debauchery, were made the occasion of good deeds and charity toward the poor; and processions for the purpose of imploring rain were prohibited, as also all nocturnal public gatherings. Imprisonment was substituted for whipping in penal offences, and lapidation was completely abolished; criminals condemned to death were still buried alive, as was the law in all Moslem states.

Strong as was Granada’s claim to an honourable place in history, it had no fixed laws of succession, and beside princes worthy of all admiration we see cruel and incapable despots who precipitated the ruin of the Moslem races. Muhammed ben al-Akhmar and Muhammed II (1273-1302) were able to repress all attempts at disorder in their states, but Muhammed III was not so fortunate. One of his brothers, Nasar Abul-Jinz, incited an insurrection in Granada and got himself proclaimed king, only to be deposed in his turn four years later by his nephew, Ismail ben Faraj. This prince reigned twelve years and was succeeded by his two sons, Muhammed IV (1325-1333) and Yusuf I (1333-1354). The latter was the author of many of the reforms we have noted above, and was, without doubt, the most remarkable of the rulers of Granada, notwithstanding the defeat he suffered at Rio Salado at the hands of the Christians. At the death of Yusuf,[256] Muhammed (V) Guadix, his son, was excluded from the throne by family intrigues and jealousies, but finally mounted it in 1362 and reigned until 1391. The succession next fell to Yusuf II, and Muhammed VI, who condemned his elder brother Yusuf to death. Yusuf was playing chess when the executioner appeared before him; he asked and obtained leave to finish the game; but before it was ended messengers from the court arrived with the news that Muhammed VI was dead, and that he, Yusuf, was to ascend the throne. Yusuf III (1408) retained the crown until 1423, when there broke out all over the realm those civil dissensions that were to bring about the fall of Granada, and in which the powerful families of the Zegris, the Abencerrages, and the Vanegas played so prominent a part.

From the time of their accession to power the Castilians were the only enemies the kings of Granada had to fear; hence they strove to conciliate them by receiving them honourably at their court, or by arbitrating personally in any disputes that might arise. But the differences in race and religion were too great to allow of any real friendship being established, and the Castilians were only withheld by their own internal troubles from carrying out further the projects of Ferdinand III. If the princes of Granada had seized the opportunity offered them by these disorders among the Castilians, the standard of the prophet might yet have been raised in Spain; but the spirit of conquest had completely abandoned them, and the warfare in which they were engaged during a long period of time was confined to attacking a few places, among which were Gibraltar, Tarifa, and Almeria. One last effort was made, however, in 1275, by Muhammed II, who delivered over Tarifa and Algeciras to Abu Yusuf, and together the two princes invaded Algarve. Sancho the Brave was not intimidated, and successfully defended the interior of the country. Later, when the states had awarded him the crown as a return for his valour, his father, Alfonso X, begged aid of the king of Granada against his rebellious son, and if the Arab ruler had yielded his subjects would have had an excellent opportunity of penetrating to the heart of Castile. But Muhammed II preferred, by entering an alliance with Sancho, to gain for himself the friendship of a powerful warrior.

In 1308 the Castilians took Gibraltar and laid siege to Algeciras; to induce them to raise the siege it was necessary to cede to them several cities. During the minority of Alfonso XI two of the infante or regents of Castile united their forces and made a hostile advance on Granada; but their ardour made them neglect all prudence and they were completely defeated on the spot that is called to this day the Sierra de los Infantes (1319). This victory encouraged the king of Granada, who immediately sent out expeditions to reconquer the places he had lost, even Gibraltar. The advantage might have been pushed still further had the Africans supported Muhammed V, but on the contrary they took from him Algeciras, Marbella, and Ronda. It was not until the accession of Yusuf II that a genuine alliance united all the Moslems under one banner. In concert with the Merinid prince, Abul-Hassan, Yusuf attacked Tarifa; but the allied forces met with severe defeat and Abul-Hassan, after surrendering all his possessions to Spain, went to hide his shame in Fez (1340). His fleet was shortly afterward destroyed by the European galleys which had united to assure the empire of the sea to the Christians.

Henceforth the Arabs in Spain were thrown entirely on their own resources, and situated as they were at the extremity of the peninsula, they asked for nothing but to remain in complete obscurity. Not until 1432 was war again resumed; at that time Yusuf IV and Muhammed VII disputed[257] for the crown, and one of the two competitors implored aid of the Castilians, who assisted him to victory. Now followed a series of isolated frontier-combats caused by incursions of Castilian nobles and Arab sheikhs into one another’s territory; but they brought about no general war, being, as it were, preliminary jousts that served to prepare the public spirit for the supreme struggle that was to come.

Granada was in no condition to resist the Castilians when Mulei Hassan ascended the throne in 1466. Despite his courage and patriotism, that new king was not received with favour by the people, who accused him of cruelty and arrogance and resented the power he had allowed a Christian slave-woman to gain over him; many even went so far as to assert that he would name the son of this slave his successor, to the exclusion of Abu Abdallah (Boabdil), the son of the sultana Zoraya. In Castile, on the contrary, the nobles had united to form a faction around the infanta Isabella, who was married to Ferdinand, king of Sicily, who was, moreover, the heir presumptive to the crown of Aragon. Disposing of the revenues of three kingdoms, the husband and wife were about to establish forever the unity and power of Spain by destroying the Arab domination in the peninsula. Mulei Hassan aroused their resentment by refusing to pay the tribute agreed to by his father; he even carried hostilities to the point of attacking Zahara, which he took in 1480. But the ruins of the conquered city were destined to fall upon the heads of the victors; their own Alhama, the main support of Granada, was taken by the Castilians, who shortly afterward advanced upon the capital.

Here all was trouble, the partisans of Abu Abdallah having just deposed Mulei Hassan, who abandoned by the most of his supporters was obliged to retire to the provinces. The Castilians carried on the war for a while longer, but without great energy; and when Abu Abdallah finally fell into their hands they immediately restored him to liberty, thinking that his culpable ambitions would serve them better than the most signal victory. Mulei Hassan recovered the throne for a short time, but was forced to abdicate in favour of his uncle, Az-Zagal. Abu Abdallah, who had incurred the contempt of his compatriots, sought aid of Ferdinand; and that king immediately invaded the kingdom of Granada, taking the cities of La Vega, after which Az-Zagal delivered over to him Granada (1486). Ferdinand had attained the object of his expedition; but instead of retiring he concluded a new compact with Abdallah, which authorised him to pursue Az-Zagal and take from him all the strongholds in which he might seek refuge. Armed with this pretext he besieged and captured Malaga, then directed his troops against Almeria, Baza, and Vera. Convinced that further struggle was useless, Az-Zagal proposed a general capitulation to Spain. Ferdinand accepted and displayed great generosity and moderation. In return for all the states he delivered over, the Moslem king was to receive full proprietary right over vast domains, and his subjects were to become subjects of Castile, retaining all their property and liberties on payment of a tribute.

The greater number of the Arabs of Granada saw in this treaty the assurance of future peace, and were willing to submit to the Christian domination; but the orthodox Moslems flew to arms, and forcing Az-Zagal to take flight in Africa they fortified Granada and determined to successfully defend it or be buried under its ruins. The 9th of May, 1491, Ferdinand appeared before the walls of the city at the head of eighty thousand men. The ablest of the Arab generals had organised the defence; but despite that fact and the bravery with which all the inhabitants, men, women, and children,[258] endured the hardships and horrors of a siege, Ferdinand and Isabella had superior might on their side, as well as indomitable perseverance, and were bound to succeed.

As a proof of her determination not to recede until her purpose had been accomplished, Isabella built a town about Granada, which exists to this day under the name of Santa Fé. Moats and entrenchments guarded the Spanish camp from surprises in any direction, and Ferdinand occupied himself in intercepting all communication from outside. The Moslems risked their last chance of safety in a general battle which resulted in victory for the Christians. Contrary to the advice of many sheikhs, who preferred death to surrender, Abu Abdallah entered into negotiations with Ferdinand. The treaty ran that Granada was to be given up at the end of two months, provided reinforcements did not arrive by sea or land within that time. The Arabs had made appeal to the sovereigns of Africa, and even to the sultan of Constantinople, but none would undertake the risk of such an enterprise, and Granada was forced to succumb.

Not wishing to remain in the country that had witnessed his ignominy and disgrace, Abu Abdallah went to Africa to finish his days in the silence of the deserts. The inhabitants of Granada withdrew to the inmost chambers of their dwellings, and let the Christians take possession of their city, which had the air of being completely deserted. The banner of Castile was flown from the summit of the Alhambra, and the great mosque was straightway decorated with the ornaments of the Catholic religion. There was not one among the vanquished who raised a protesting voice at anything that took place; they even seemed indifferent to the terms of surrender by which they retained their personal liberty, their property, their religion, their usages, and even their former legislative institutions. The fall of Granada seemed to be the sentence of death of the whole Arab race, as indeed it did mark the end of their domination in Spain, which had lasted 781 years (711-1492).

Ferdinand had no intention of faithfully carrying out the terms of the contract; he possessed Granada—that was the end and aim of his ambition. Accustomed as he was in politics to sacrificing everything to his own interests, he determined to force the Arabs gradually to abjure their religion and mode of life until they became merged into the rest of the population. He went prudently to work by charging his inquisitioners to convert the Moslems to Catholicism only by degrees. The Jews were first to be attacked, and forced by tortures and horrible executions to deny the faith of their fathers, that the Arabs might see what fate was in store for them should they refuse allegiance to Christianity. A little later all Moslem religious exercises were prohibited in public, and in 1499 Ferdinand boldly threw aside the mask, and pronounced sentence of expulsion against any Moslems who should refuse to be baptised. In vain were the cries of indignation that arose in the kingdom of Granada; the inhabitants of the cities went to church to worship the Christian God, and then in the privacy of their own homes asked pardon of the prophet for the sacrilege they had committed. The mountaineers of Alpujarras, the most energetic among the Moslem populations, openly refused to obey, and took up arms; but Ferdinand marched upon them with a superior force, and after having devastated their lands added confiscation to the sentence of exile pronounced against them.

The Moslems of Valencia, whose industries formed one of Spain’s principal sources of prosperity, were tolerated as late as the reign of Charles V. During that period the nobles of the country forced them to submit to baptism. In 1525 an edict, instigated by the archbishop of Seville who was[259] grand inquisitor, called upon the Arabs of Seville to renounce immediately their customs, language, and style of dress. In 1565 the Moslems attempted to gain some amelioration of these hard conditions by paying Philip II the sum of eight hundred thousand ducats; but though the government and the inquisition relaxed their severity in some degree, the Spanish people, carrying intolerance to its highest limits, pursued even into their mountain fastnesses the unfortunate Arabs who refused to become converted.

In 1568 the few faithful Moslems who were left armed themselves for revolt and entered into relations with their co-religionists in Africa, hoping to surprise and take Granada. Under the leadership of Muhammed ben Omayyah, who claimed to descend from the Cordovan caliphs, the struggle was carried on for several years; but finally divisions arose in the rebel camp, and Muhammed was assassinated. Mulei Abdallah who succeeded him was outwitted by John of Austria, and most of his soldiers deserted him—some to submit to the Christian rule, others to be transported to Africa. Mulei himself was reduced to negotiating terms with his victor. The mountaineers of Alpujarras were dispersed through the provinces of Asturias, Galicia, and Castile, and there kept under close surveillance.

A last blow was dealt the Arabs in 1609. Despite the protestations of a few generous nobles, the Moslem populations of Murcia and Valencia were crowded, by order of Philip III, on transports which carried them to the shores of Africa. A great many passed over into the Pyrenees, where they were received with kindness by Henry IV; this generous king offered many of them a refuge in his own domains, and to others he gave means of embarking for the ports of Guienne and Languedoc. It has been calculated that, from the time of the conquest of Granada until 1609, three millions of Arabs were exiled from Spanish soil; and never have the plains of Valencia, Murcia, and Granada recovered the flourishing aspect that they wore when cultivated by their former masters. The decree of 1609 was as fatal to Spain as the revocation of the Edict of Nantes was to France nearly a hundred years later.d

---

[260]

CHAPTER X. ARAB CIVILISATION

THE KORAN

The Koran is held by the Mohammedans in the greatest veneration. The book must not be touched by anybody but a Moslem; nor even by a believer, except he be free from pollution. Whether the Koran be created or uncreated, has been the subject of a controversy fruitful of the most violent persecutions. The orthodox opinion is that the original has been written from all eternity on the preserved table. Of this, they believe, a complete transcript was brought down to the lower heaven (that of the moon) by the angel Gabriel: and thence taken and shown to Mohammed once every year of his mission; and twice in the last year of his life. They assert however that it was only piecemeal, that the several parts were revealed by the angel to the prophet, and that he immediately dictated what had been revealed to his secretary, who wrote it down. Each part, as soon as it was thus copied out, was communicated to his disciples, to get by heart; and was afterwards deposited in what he called the chest of his apostleship. This chest the prophet left in the custody of his wife Hafsa. The present book was compiled, partly out of these detached scraps, and partly out of the memories of his companions.

When we consider the way in which the Koran was compiled, we cannot wonder that it is so incoherent a piece as we find it; the book is divided into chapters; of these some are very long; others again, especially a few towards the end, very short. Each chapter has a title prefixed, taken from the first word, or from some one particular thing mentioned in it, rarely from the subject-matter of it; for if a chapter be of any length, it usually runs into various subjects that have no connection with each other. A celebrated commentator divides the contents of the Koran into three general heads: (1) Precepts or directions, relating either to religion, as prayers, fasting, pilgrimages; or to civil polity, as marriages, inheritances, judicatures. (2) Histories—whereof some are taken from the Scriptures, but falsified with fabulous additions; others are wholly false, having no foundation in fact. (3) Admonitions: under which head are comprised exhortations to[261] receive Islamism; to fight for it, to practise its precepts, prayer, alms, etc.; the moral duties, such as justice, temperance, etc., promises of everlasting felicity to the obedient, dissuasives from sin, threatenings of the punishments of hell to the unbelieving and disobedient. Many of the threatenings are levelled against particular persons, and those sometimes of Mohammed’s own family, who had opposed him in propagating his religion.

In the Koran, God is brought in, saying, “We have given you a book.” By this it appears that the impostor published early, in writing, some of his principal doctrines, as also some of his historical relations. Thus, in his Life, p. 16, we find his disciples reading the twentieth chapter of the Koran before his flight from Mecca; after which he pretended many of the revelations in other chapters were brought to him. Undoubtedly, all those said to be revealed at Medina must be posterior to what he had then published at Mecca; because he had not yet been at Medina. Many parts of the Koran he declared were brought to him by the angel Gabriel, on special occasions. Accordingly, the commentators on the Koran often explain passages in it by relating the occasion on which they were first revealed. Without such a key, many of them would be perfectly unintelligible.

There are several contradictions in the Koran. To reconcile these, the Moslem doctors have invented the doctrine of abrogation—i.e., that what was revealed at one time was revoked by a new revelation. A great deal of it is so absurd, trifling, and full of tautology, that it requires no little patience to read much of it at a time. Notwithstanding, the Koran is cried up by the Mussulmans as inimitable. Accordingly, when Mohammed was called upon, as he often was, to work miracles in proof of his divine mission, he excused himself by various pretences, and appealed to the Koran as a standing miracle. Each chapter of the Koran is divided into verses, that is, lines of different length, terminated with the same letter, so as to make a different rhyme, but without any regard to the measure of the syllables.

The Mohammedan religion consists of two parts, faith and practice. Faith they divide into six articles: (1) A belief in the unity of God, in opposition to those whom they call associators; by which name they mean not only those who, besides the true God, worship idols or inferior gods or goddesses, but the Christians also, who hold Christ’s divinity and the doctrine of the Trinity. (2) A belief in angels, to whom they attribute various shapes, names, and offices, borrowed from the Jews and Persians. (3) The Scriptures. (4) The prophets; on this head the Koran teaches that God revealed his will to various prophets, in divers ages of the world, and gave it in writing to Adam, Seth, Enoch, Abraham, etc.; but these books are lost; that afterwards he gave the Pentateuch to Moses, the Psalms to David, the Gospel to Jesus, and the Koran to Mohammed. The Koran speaks with great reverence of Moses and Jesus, but says the Scriptures left by them have been greatly mutilated and corrupted. Under this pretence, it adds a great many fabulous relations to the history contained in those sacred books, and charges the Jews and Christians with suppressing many prophecies concerning Mohammed (a calumny easily refuted, the Scriptures having been translated into various languages, long before Mohammed was born). (5) The fifth article of belief is the resurrection and day of judgment, while about the intermediate state Mohammedan divines have various opinions. The happiness promised to the Moslems in paradise is wholly sensual, consisting of fine gardens, rich furniture, sparkling with gems and gold, delicious fruits, and wines that neither cloy nor intoxicate; but above all, affording the fruition of all the delights of love in the society of women[262] having large black eyes, and every trait of exquisite beauty, who shall ever continue young and perfect. Some of their writers speak of these females of paradise in very lofty strains; telling us, for instance, that if one of them were to look down from heaven in the night, she would illuminate the earth as the sun does; and if she did but spit into the ocean, it would be immediately turned as sweet as honey. These delights of paradise were certainly, at first, understood literally; however, Mohammedan divines may have since allegorised them into a spiritual sense. As to the punishments threatened to the wicked, they are hell-fire, breathing hot winds, the drinking of boiling and stinking water, eating briers and thorns, and the bitter fruit of the tree Zakum, which in their bellies will feel like boiling pitch. These punishments are to be everlasting to all except those who embrace Islamism; for the latter, after suffering a number of years, in proportion to their demerits, will then, if they have had but so much faith as is equal to the weight of an ant, be released by the mercy of God, and, upon the intercession of Mohammed, admitted into paradise.

The sixth article of belief is that God decrees everything that is to happen, not only all events, but the actions and thoughts of men, their belief or infidelity; that everything that has or will come to pass has been, from eternity, written in the preserved or secret table, which is a white stone of an immense size, preserved in heaven, near the throne of God. Agreeable to this notion, one of their poets thus expresses himself: “Whatever is written against thee will come to pass, what is written for thee shall not fail; resign thyself to God, and know thy Lord to be powerful, his decrees will certainly take place; his servants ought to be silent.”

Of their four fundamental points of practice, the first is prayer. This duty is to be performed five times in the twenty-four hours: (1) In the morning before sunrise; (2) when noon is past; (3) a little before sunset; (4) a little after sunset; (5) before the first watch of the night. Previous to prayer they are to purify themselves by washing. Some kinds of pollution require the whole body to be immersed in water, but commonly it is enough to wash some parts only, the head, the face and neck, hands and feet. In the latter ablution, called wodhu, fine sand or dust may be used when water cannot be had; in such case, the palm of the hand being first laid upon the sand, is then to be drawn over the part required to be washed. The Mohammedans, out of respect to the divine Majesty before whom they are to appear, are required to be clean and decent when they go to public prayers in their mosques; but are yet forbidden to appear there in sumptuous apparel, particularly clothes trimmed with gold or silver, lest they should make them vain and arrogant. The women are not allowed to be in their mosques at the same time with the men; this they think would make their thoughts wander from their proper business there. On this account they reproach the Christians with the impropriety of the contrary usage.

The next point of practice is alms-giving, which is frequently enjoined in the Koran, and looked upon as highly meritorious. Many of them have been very exemplary in the performance of this duty. The third point of practical religion is fasting the whole month Ramadhan, during which they are every day to abstain from eating, or drinking, or touching a woman, from daybreak to sunset; after that they are at liberty to enjoy themselves as at other times. From this fast an exception is made in favour of old persons and children; those also that are sick, or on a journey; and women pregnant or nursing are also excused in this month. But then, the person making[263] use of this dispensation must expiate the omission by fasting an equal number of days in some other month, and by giving alms to the poor. There are also some other days of fasting, which are, by the more religious, observed in the manner above described. The last practical duty is going the pilgrimage to Mecca, which every man who is able is obliged to perform once in his life. In the ceremonies of it they strictly copy those observed by Mohammed. A pilgrimage can be made only in the month of Dhul-Hija; but a visitation to Mecca may be made at any other time of the year.b

DOZY’S ESTIMATE OF THE KORAN

The book which contains the revelations made to Mohammed, and which is, at the same time, if not the most complete, at least the most trustworthy source of his biography, presents more peculiarities and irregularities than any other. It is a collection of stories, exhortations, laws, etc., placed side by side without attempt at chronological order or any other order. The revelations were seldom long, most frequently they consist of simple verses which were put into writing in Mohammed’s life-time, or simply entrusted to memory; for, as is proved by the genealogies and poems of paganism, which for long were only preserved by oral tradition, Mohammed’s contemporaries had a memory of marvellous power, as is generally the case with people who write little. Mohammed called every complete revelation sura, or “koran.” The former of these two words is Hebrew, and it literally means a series of stones in a wall, and thence the line of a letter or of a book; in the Koran, as we possess it, it has the wider meaning of a chapter. The word koran, properly speaking, is an infinitive, and means “to read, to recite, to expose”; this word is also borrowed from the Jews, who use the verb kara (to read) especially in the sense of to study the Scriptures; but Mohammed himself included under the name Koran not only each separate revelation, but also the union of several or even of all of them.

However, in the time of Mohammed no complete collection of the texts of the Koran existed; and had it not been for the care of the first three caliphs it would have run a great risk of being forgotten. What reserves are needed in admitting the entire authenticity of the text of the sacred writings of the East! The example of the Jews shows this clearly. Already[264] in the time of Mohammed it was known that the Jews had altered the text of the Old Testament in several places; they have been blamed for doing so, and the fact has been positively proved; at the same time in the history of Judaism itself reasons have been discovered for these alterations, which from a certain point of view appear necessary. The Mohammedans had not the same reason as the Jews for adding and altering; but that does not prove that they had no other reasons.

However that may be, and whatever may be the judgment which posterity will declare as to the greater or lesser authenticity of the Koran, it is quite certain that the arrangement of this book and its division into suras or chapters is entirely arbitrary. And it could not be otherwise; an arrangement according to subject was quite impossible, for Mohammed often spoke in the same revelation of totally different things. Still less could a chronological order be followed: first, because Mohammed himself, in many places, added new revelations to more ancient ones; next, because in those times there was no one still living who knew the exact moment when each verse had been revealed. It was with perfect justice that, at this period, a man who was asked if the fragments of the Koran were arranged in chronological order, replied: “Even if all men and all jinns (demons) attempted it, they could not succeed.” So the length of the suras was taken as a rule of the order to be followed, without keeping too strictly to it; the longest came first, then the one which was nearest in length, and so on; so that the last sura is at the same time the shortest. The consequence is that revelations dating from very different epochs are now mixed without order, so that a similar confusion is found in no other book; and this, above all else, makes the reading of the Koran so difficult and so tedious.

For believing Moslems the Koran, that is to say God’s Word which has not been created, is the most perfect book which exists, both in matter and form, and this opinion is what it should be in the natural order of things; but it is somewhat strange that the prejudice of the Moslems should have had more influence on us than would have been expected. The pompous rhetoric and the so frequently foolish accumulation of metaphors which are to be found in the Meccan suras have been taken seriously for poetry and admired in consequence; the style of the whole book has been considered a model of purity of language. It is difficult to argue on the question of taste; every man has his private opinion on this matter, and he can seldom be persuaded to change it. But if we must give our own, we must confess that, among the more famous of ancient Arab books, we know none so wanting in taste and originality, so exceedingly prolix and wearisome as the Koran.

Mohammed was not able to compose in verse, an art of which nearly all were masters at that time; so he did not speak in verse, and he even had a marked aversion for poetry. His taste was extremely peculiar; he preferred very mediocre poets who could express pious thoughts in bombastic verse, to the greatest Arab poets who were still living or who had only lately died. Generally speaking he was opposed to poetry, and very naturally; for it was the true expression of the former joyous life of paganism. He was therefore forced to employ rhymed prose for his revelations, which consists in using short sentences, two or more of which rhyme together. In the oldest suras Mohammed closely followed the rules of this style of writing so that they resemble the oracles of the old Arab soothsayers; later on however he neglected them more and more, made sentences longer than they should have been, and took many licences with the rhyme which, far from being[265] attractive, are real blemishes. If they were found in any other book than the Word of God, they would have been severely criticised.

Moreover, he was not master of the language, which partly explains the frequent repetitions to be found in the Koran. Mohammed had much trouble in composing; he seldom found at once the right word to express his thought; so he tried all methods, and hence it is that in the Koran the same ideas recur continually and only the expression changes. The Koran is crowded with degenerate words, borrowed from the Jewish, the Syrian, and the Ethiopian languages; the Arab commentators, who knew no other language than their own, wearied their brains in trying to explain them, without succeeding, however, in finding the true meaning. Moreover the Koran contains more than one infraction of the rules of grammar; and if these are less noticeable, it is because Arab grammarians, wishing to justify them, made these errors into rules or exceptions to the rules.

The Koran had, moreover, very little influence on Mohammed’s contemporaries. The Arabs had reached a very high degree of civilisation and of development—I refer to intellectual and not to material civilisation; while Mohammed was a mere enthusiast, like many others elsewhere—a fanatic, who was surpassed in understanding, science, intelligence, and even in morality by more than one of his fellow-citizens. The greater number of his contemporaries were indifferent to his pious effusions. And, in short, to find the Koran fine and sublime, faith must first have stifled common sense. The majority of the nation had not yet reached that stage. So the conversions one reads of which are attributed to certain passages of the Koran belong chiefly to the domain of pious legend and not to history; history, in fact, teaches that the multitude knew little or nothing of the Koran, and that they were moreover not at all anxious to know it.

DOCTRINE OF ISLAMISM

There is no religion less original than Islamism. It has as base Hanifitism and Mosaism as it was developed under the influence of Parseeism, together with facts borrowed from the ancient Arabic religion and Christianity, with the additional dogma that Mohammed is the greatest and the last prophet of God. That was the sum of the system preached by the Meccan prophet.

The Koran contains no deep thoughts, no poetic theories depicted in sublime and moving language. It does not try to resolve great problems by clothing them in a borrowed symbolic form. Islamism is certainly the most prosaic and monotonous of religions, and at the same time the least susceptible of modification and development. How explain this phenomenon? By the very character of the Arab people, who, in effect, hold specially to the positive. They seek even poetry in the form rather than the substance; and, everything taken into consideration, they rather resemble a developed and reasoning people of the nineteenth century than an ancient nation, still animated by the poetry of youth which other religions have produced.

Again, Mohammed counts for much. He was not a profound thinker, but an enthusiast of mediocre talent. Far from aspiring to originality, his great glory was to avoid it, since he never ceased repeating that the doctrine he preached had been announced from all time by prophets of old. There is a third reason still which must not be lost sight of: In other countries religion developed gradually—it was not the founder who wrote, but his[266] disciples; thus each author imprinted more or less his individuality on his book, and this circumstance, which naturally excludes uniformity, imposed on future ages the duty of not keeping to the letter but entering into the very spirit of the text. There was nothing of this kind in Arabia. There, a single man regulated everything—faith, customs, even the law. The Koran is a book made by one man who exposes the immutable will of God. Islamism has thus a great fixity. One knows not how to contest it; but, far from being a cause of satisfaction, this must be deplored; for continual progress is a task imposed on humanity.

The laws of the Koran still flourish and will do so as long as Islamism exists. That they were good for those times, and then constituted real progress, may be admitted without difficulty. But the laws of Charlemagne were just as excellent for their epoch; yet where would now be all the people over whom he reigned, had they been condemned always to preserve and follow these laws? Would not progress have been impossible for western Europe? The legislation of the Koran hardly enters into the scope of our subject, and we will keep to its doctrines. It has been so often analysed, and moreover presents so little originality, that we shall make a very rapid survey of it.

The unity of God is the first article of faith; the second, the divine mission of Mohammed. The God of Mohammed resembles the Allah Taala of the primitive Arabic religion, the Jehovah of Mosaism, and the Ahuramazda of the Parsee monotheist not yet corrupted. The story of creation is borrowed from the Jews. The jinns of primitive religion have been preserved, transformed into angels and demons. That is what Zoroaster did with regard to the Indian divinities, the devas. It is forbidden to honour the angels, they are perishable and will die in the day of judgment. The arch-fiend also has the Hebrew name of Satan and the Greek one of Iblis (Diabolos); but as Ahriman of the duallist Neopardism has never taken his true signification in Judaism, the idea the Koran gives of the arch-fiend and his subjects is more Christian than Jewish. However, Mohammed diverges in one point from church doctrine—the impossibility of converting devils. According to him devils may be converted, and he himself has converted many.

The revelations of God are worked by means of prophets and holy books. Each period has its revelation which God modifies according to the needs of the time, and this idea, beautiful in itself, would be fecund if Mohammed had not given his revelation as the last and most perfect. Adam had already received the gift of prophecy, and the number of prophets was not inconsiderable, seeing they were ordinarily reckoned at 124,000, but the six greatest are Adam, Noah, Abraham, Moses, Jesus, and Mohammed. The Koran admits the miraculous birth of Jesus—for brevity’s sake we will not speak of all the others—but he was not the Son of God but a man in the proper sense of the word, and witnessed in speaking of himself that he was only a servant of the Divinity; he declares that not he but God alone is omniscient. On the judgment day, Allah will say: “Oh, Jesus, Son of Mary, hast thou said to men, place my mother and myself as gods by the side of God?” And Jesus will answer, “Far be the thought from me; how can I pretend to a name which does not belong to me?” It is not so clearly seen whether the Koran admits the Ascension. As to miracles, Jesus did a great number, even when his mother was still feeding him, and later he raised the dead, etc. To crown all, it was not he who was crucified, but a man whom they took for him. The principal object of his doctrine was, like that of all prophets, to announce the unity of God.

[267]

Man has five great duties to fulfil. He must admit the two principal dogmas of Islamism, pray, fast, give alms, and go on pilgrimage to Mecca. These duties are called the Pillars of Islamism. According to the revelation made to Mohammed when he journeyed to heaven, and which is not noted in the Koran (for this book only orders prayers three times a day), all believers ought, after having gone through the prescribed purifications, to pray at a given time for five minutes each day, by preference at the mosque. Mohammed is a great deal more occupied with the ceremonies of prayer than with the prayer itself, for there are designated passages of the Koran and consecrated formulas to be recited; so there can be no question of spontaneous prayer, and if in the Moslem countries the degenerate cult consists in a mechanical movement of the lips, the fault to a large extent must be attributed to the prophet himself. The attitudes, gestures, inflexions of the head and body are exactly regulated by Mohammed himself, and even more by theologians who came after. On Fridays there is gathering for common prayer, but the day is not a time of repose like the Jewish Sabbath or the Christian Sunday. With the exception of prayer-time, each follows his daily occupation.

Fasting is prescribed for the whole month of Ramadhan. It is only after sunset that eating and drinking are permitted. Mohammed decreed this law at Medina, in a time when the fixed lunar year was still followed—that is, when the solar year was made up by the intercalation of a supplementary month; consequently the month of Ramadhan regularly fell in winter. But when afterwards Mohammed had established the vague lunar year and the month of Ramadhan fell by chance in summer, it was a severe trial not to dare to take a drop of water all through the long and stifling summer day. It is not astonishing, then, that the Moslem is generally morose and bad tempered during the fast and awaits its end with impatience. But, once over, there is celebrated on the first day of the month of Khauwal, the most joyous fête known to Islamism, that of the fast-breaking (aid-al-fitr) or “little fête” (the little bairam of the Turks), which, in certain countries, lasts three days. The fifth great duty, which all Moslems of age and free, and of no matter which sex, have to accomplish once in a life-time is the pilgrimage to Mecca.

THE PILGRIMAGE TO MECCA

This pilgrimage was borrowed from the ancient religion with all the ceremonies which accompany it, although they have been modified in some respects and received a touch of Islamism. In spite of their great antiquity, they were not much observed by Arabs in the time of Mohammed except mechanically. But, as Islamism retained them, it was necessary to justify them.

When Adam had been driven from the terrestrial paradise and sent into the world, he lamented to God: “Alas! I shall hear no more the angels’ voices.” “That,” said God, “is the result of your sin. But build me a temple and walk around it thinking of me as you have seen the angels do around my throne.” Adam arrived in the neighbourhood of Mecca, and laid there the foundations of the holy temple whilst the angels, aiding him, brought large blocks of rock from five mountains. It was on to these foundations that the temple itself descended from heaven. Adam also received from paradise a tent formed of red hyacinth, in which the place of repose was the angular stone. Also a white hyacinth, only blackened because sinners had touched it. This is the famous Black Stone.

[268]

At the time of the deluge both temple and tent were taken up to heaven, but the Black Stone was hidden in the mountain of Abu Kobais, which is near Mecca. Afterwards the spot where the temple had stood remained known to men and was visited as a sacred place. It was there, in fact, that Abraham came with Hagar and Ishmael and left them to their fate. The water which Hagar had brought being soon exhausted, she and her son suffered greatly from thirst. As far as her eyes could see there was no living being near. So to get a wider view she climbed Mount Safa, then the Merwa heights which are opposite, but still saw no one. On returning she found her son dying of thirst. Not knowing what to do, she returned in haste to the two hills, and in her misery ran several times from one to the other. When in desperation she returned, there was water bubbling near her son. She hastened to pile sand round that it should not escape before she had filled her pitcher; then she and her son drank. This spring ran in that place where the wells of Zemzem were afterwards dug.

When on a visit to Ishmael, Abraham told him that God had ordered him to build a temple in a certain spot; father and son set immediately to work, and in digging came across the old foundations laid by Adam. Abraham wanted to set in one of the angles a recognisable stone to mark the spot where the procession should begin round the temple; but while Ishmael was seeking a suitable stone the angel Gabriel brought Abraham the Black Stone, which he had been to fetch from Mount Abu Kobais. Abraham took and placed it in the angle. When the wall was too high for him to reach up he mounted on a big stone which Ishmael placed before him and removed when necessary.

The temple finished, both father and son on Gabriel’s order walked round it seven times, carefully touching the four corners each time. Then, bowing twice, they prayed behind the large stone on which Abraham had stood. Gabriel also taught them the rites which they had to accomplish in other sacred spots. First they had to hurry rapidly seven times on the path between the two hills of Safa and Merwa, in memory of the journeys Hagar had made in her agony. Then he led them to the valley of Mina; but on their arrival the devil (Iblis) showed himself. “Throw something at him,” said Gabriel. Abraham obeyed by throwing seven little stones, upon which Iblis went away. In the middle and at the foot of the valley he was seen again, but each time Abraham drove him away with little stones. Thence arose the custom of throwing stones in the Mina valley during the pilgrimage. But when, led by Gabriel, he had also visited Mozdalifa and Arafa and learned what ceremonies there were to be performed he received orders to tell all men they were to go on a pilgrimage to the Kaaba and other sacred spots. “My voice cannot reach to them,” he answered. “Do what I command you,” then said God; “I know what to do so that they may hear.”

Abraham stood up on the big stone, and it rose so high that it was above all the mountains. Turning himself successively to the four cardinal points, he cried, “O men, a pilgrimage to the ancient house is ordered. Obey your Lord.” Then from all countries came the answer: “Labbaika, Allahomma, labbaika;” which means, according to the explanation which the Arabs love to give to this old formula: “We are ready to serve thee, O God, we are ready.” It is in perpetual memory of this fact that the print of Abraham’s feet have remained on this stone. Even to this day it is called Makam Ibrahim or “Abraham’s station.” This is how the theologians, aided by a well-known story in Genesis and a Jewish legend which speaks of Abraham making a journey into Arabia, came to resolve the difficult problem of[269] making very old customs agree with the new religion and explain it. The explanation has not satisfied everyone, but it has sufficed for the majority, and must certainly be praised for its ingenuity. Being acquainted with what the majority think about pilgrimages and the meaning they set on ceremonies, we will here give a brief description of these customs:

First when the boundaries of the sacred territory are crossed and the pilgrim is purified, the ordinary clothes are doffed and the pilgrim’s garment or ihram is put on. This is composed of two pieces of linen, wool, or cotton; one tied round the loins, the other thrown over the neck and shoulders so as to leave bare a part of the right arm. All head-dress is forbidden, save for old men and invalids, who have to purchase this dispensation with alms. Instead of shoes sandals are worn, or the upper part of the boot is cut away so as to form a kind of sandal. The ihram for women is composed of a mantle and veil.

On the seventh day of the month of Dhul-Hija, the fête is opened by a sermon which the kadi of Mecca delivers after the midday prayer, and in which he reminds the worshippers of the ceremonies they have to accomplish. On the eighth all repair to Mina, arriving there after a slow walk of two hours. The journey continues to Mount Arafa, which is six hours’ march from Mecca. It is on this sacred mountain and in the long valley, that the night is passed, but very few think of sleep. The devout pray aloud, the others sing joyful songs, or pass the time in the cafés. The grand ceremony at Arafa consists in a long preaching which begins on the ninth at three in the afternoon and continues till sunset. This is regarded as so important that those who have not heard it, even if they have visited all the sacred spots in Mecca, cannot pretend to the title of haji (pilgrim). The preacher, who is generally the kadi of Mecca, is seated on a camel and reads his sermon in Arabic. Every four or five minutes he stops and raises his arms to implore the benediction of heaven. During this interval the audience flap the folds of their pilgrim’s garment and make the air resound with their cries of “Labbaika, Allahomma, labbaika.” According to the law the preacher must show visible signs of emotion, so he seldom ceases wiping his eyes with his handkerchief. The audience must also be deeply moved, recognise their deep sinfulness, and shed abundant tears.

When at last the sun has set behind the mountains, the preacher closes his book and the pilgrims run with all their might towards Mozdalifa. A scene of indescribable confusion arises, for everyone runs as hard as he can, and the caravans from different countries make it a point of honour to arrive first at the destination. Foot-travellers, litters, camels are always being knocked over, there is fighting with sticks and other weapons. At night there is a magnificent illumination, “so grand that one might imagine that all the stars from heaven had come down to earth.”

On the tenth is the greatest fête of the year, the “day of sacrifice,” or the great bairam of the Turks. At daybreak the kadi delivers another sermon of the same kind as that of the previous day, except that it is shorter; then the prayers for the fête are read, and when finished all go slowly to the narrow Mina valley, where there is a village. There they begin to throw stones[270] about the size of a kidney bean, which, strictly, ought to have been picked up at Mozdalifa. But many get them in Mina or use them a second time, although this is forbidden by law. The first seven little stones are aimed against a species of pillar or altar of rough stone which is at the entrance of the valley, in the middle of the route, and which measures six or seven feet in height. Then seven stones are thrown in the middle of the valley against a pillar of the same kind, and seven more at the western end against a stone wall. At the same time they cry: “In the name of God! God is great! We throw stones to be safe against the devil and his hosts.”

After this the sacrifices begin. The pilgrims immolate the victims they have brought; and all Mohammedans, in whatsoever part of the world, sacrifice at the same time. That, generally speaking, ends the pilgrimage. The pilgrims’ robes may now be doffed, everyday clothes resumed, and many return to Mecca to make a tour of the Kaaba. But ordinarily a stay of another two days is made at Mina, and stone-throwing is recommenced. The eleventh is the day of rest, and a return to Mecca is made on the twelfth. The pilgrim goes to the Kaaba, which in the interval has received its new veil, says some prayers, stands in front of the Black Stone, touches it with the right hand or kisses it, if not hindered by the crowd, and begins the seven tours, the first three being made rapidly. To each tour belong certain prescribed prayers to be said; at the end of each one he again touches or kisses the stone. Then, asking pardon for his sins, he goes to the station of Abraham, which is quite near, and prays again. Thence he goes to the sacred well of Zemzem, from which he drinks as much as he wishes, or as much as the crowd permits; finally he runs seven times rapidly from the Safa to the Merwa hill. This done, he has accomplished all the ceremonies, which are so regulated as to their least details that few pilgrims know them by heart. The strangeness of these ceremonies has even struck some pious Moslem theologians who do not put very great faith in the legends. They admit that the act of walking round a temple, running swiftly between two hills, throwing little stones, etc., does not increase piety; but they get out of the difficulty by saying the ceremonies are a sign of divine wisdom, impenetrable to our weak understanding, or a trial of man’s submission to the mysterious and incomprehensible will of God.

We can pass over the other moral duties imposed by the Moslem religion, for morals do not vary much in any religion. There is just one peculiar duty, the holy war, of which we will say a few words.

THE HOLY WAR

European opinion for a long time has not been exact. The Koran, if its sequence of ideas is well studied, gives no order relative to this war against all infidels; and Mohammed, to begin with, shows himself extremely tolerant, admitting the possibility of salvation for all those who believe in God and the last judgment and practice virtue, whatever may be their form of worship. But the opposition he met with modified his way of looking at things, and it was then that Islamism became the only religion that could save. Nevertheless the holy war is not imposed as a duty except and only in the case of enemies to Islamism being the aggressors. Only an arbitrary interpretation by theologians can take the orders otherwise.

Another equal error is to think that Islamism has been propagated by force. Political power, certainly, has been extended in that way, not[271] religion. The caliphs, far from seeking to make proselytes, for reasons of pecuniary interest saw with much displeasure the conversion of conquered peoples.

Mohammed also forbade games of chance and wine. As events then stood, he had to ask for all in order to obtain anything. The Arabs were great drinkers and took a certain pride in being so. Even among Mohammed’s disciples at Medina there were those who came drunk to the mosque. It was then necessary to agitate against drunkenness, and as warnings on the subject of this abuse of wine did not produce any effect, he forbade it altogether. Omar sanctioned the prohibition by adding the penalty of the whip. The success has not been great. All the time Islamism has existed wine has been drunk, a great deal of it, indeed; only, out of respect for the law, it has not been done openly. The alimentary laws are much less rigorous than with the Jews. Pork, for which moreover the Arabs had a repugnance, has been forbidden, and as the use of fat generally causes fearful and hideous diseases in hot countries, it must be recognised that the prohibition in question is a very wise law in Eastern religions.c

ARAB CULTURE

In the Middle Ages the Arabs were the sole representatives of civilisation. They opposed that barbarism which spread over Europe, shaken as it was by invasions of northern peoples, and went back to “the perennial source of Greek philosophy”; far from resting content with acquired treasures, they enlarged and opened up new ways to the study of nature.

Wars of invasion, scarcely interrupted by civil discord, far-away expeditions, and striking triumphs, filled the first century of the Hegira. Even in 760, after the fall of the Omayyads, there was no evidence that to the tumult of arms would succeed in the caliph empire a period noted only for intellectual progress. But under the Abbasids a noble emulation, and above all the example and protection of the sovereigns, dissipated the ignorance and coarseness with which the disciples of Mohammed were justly charged. Men’s minds were permeated with new ideas, a number of writings of all kinds sprang into existence and in their turn gave birth to an infinity of others, which made Arabic the medium of learning for the East and all the Moslem states. Nearly all these writings are still extant, and form one of the vastest literatures ever known.

To the caliph Abu Jafar al-Mansur belongs the credit of the first impulse given to the study of exact science. Among the confused and incomplete traditions that exist concerning the ancient Arabs, one catches a glimpse of notions of practical astronomy. The spectacle of the heavens had attracted their attention, as it does that of all peoples enjoying a mild climate and clear air, although without invariably inspiring to consideration of the celestial laws. All that they had gathered in their intercourse with surrounding nations was a knowledge of the names of planets and certain stars, which they deified, an exact indication of the dwellings in the moon, and purely astrological learning. They went by the lunar year, but it does not appear they had ever tried to mark time by eras and epochs in general usage. Thus it is almost impossible to establish a regular order in the long series of facts which make up the Arabian annals, until that epoch when a timely revolution broke up the various beliefs of its nomad populations, writing them under the law of the Koran and developing new desires.

[272]

“The Arabs,” says Humboldt,d “were admirably adapted to the rôle of mediator and to influence the peoples included in the area between the Euphrates and the Guadalquivir and the southern part of central Africa. They possessed an unexampled activity which marked a distinct epoch in the world’s history, a tendency opposed to the intolerant spirit of the Jews, which led them to mingle with conquered peoples without always abjuring their national character or traditional remembrances of their native country, and this in spite of a perpetual change of land. Whilst the German races did not acquire polish until a long time after their migrations, the Arabs brought with them not only their religion but also a perfected language and a wealth of poetry, which was not to be forever lost but was to be found again among the troubadours and minnesingers of Provence.”

M. Girault de Prangeye has studied carefully Arab art, and compared the architectural monuments of Spain and the East. In the peninsula he distinguishes three successive epochs. The first, from the eighth to the tenth century, shows a badly disguised imitation of Christian and Roman buildings. The mosque of Cordova is doubtless in the same style as that of Damascus, which it surpassed in magnificence. There is no doubt that the churches described by Eusebius of Cæsarea,f with courts, porticoes, fountains, and priests’ lodgings, served as models for the mosques of Syria, Palestine, and Egypt. Byzantine mosaics are found in them. But already in 965 a sumptuous Greek ornamentation seemed insufficient. Details were multiplied, arches were complicated with festoons and varied curves, such as one sees at Cordova in the Villaviciosa chapel constructed in the caliphate of Hakim.

The second epoch, from the tenth to the twelfth century, marks the first development of that Moorish architecture encouraged by the Almoravid and Almohad princes. The Arabs then strayed from the beaten path. The ogee arch, porcelain mosaics, fantastic embroideries, ornaments run in stucco, became fashionable. Inscriptions abounded and became part of the decorations.

Finally the third epoch, when Arab art attained its apogee, was contemporary with the splendour of the kingdom of Granada. The Alhambra is the highest expression of it. The exterior of the palace, so simple yet imposing, is in conformity with the Moorish habit of hiding from the eyes of strangers. The entrance is only an immense arch decorated with some emblems and an inscription recording the founder’s name. The walls are of a species of mortar mixed with little pebbles which glint in the sunlight. In the interior, on the contrary, man’s genius has expended its utmost resources. Vast painted and gilded galleries, adorned with arcades of every shape cut up with festoons, in stalactites, and loaded with stucco open-work, the rooms lighted by uncasemented windows, the Ambassadors’ hall, that of the Two Sisters, the Infantes room, the Comares tower, the court and fountain of Lions, the Alberca court, below which are baths modelled in the ancient style—all offer admirable effects. Here water gushes among millions of beautiful little columns isolated or grouped picturesquely, there it flows in marble trenches, now forming cascades, now jets thrown in spray to feed the basins in the patios surrounded by shrubs and flowers. Everywhere inscriptions skilfully combined with sculptures express noble and elevated sentiments, adding fresh charm to the marvel of a palace which Christian kings partly destroyed.

The interior ornaments of the principal halls of this ancient residence of Moorish kings are in plaster. The fashion of the relief is geometrical, and although constantly repeated has none the less beauty and delicacy. The[273] paintings, artfully distributed and protected by the Andalusian climate, are to-day as they were in the times of the Abencerrages. In some of the halls which surround the court of Lions the colours put on by the Arabs still retain their lustre. They are very pure, composed only of reds, blues, yellows, and greens. In a recent analysis the blue and red matter was found to be of ultramarine and vermilion or sulphate of mercury.

It is, moreover, to be regretted that a general study has not been made of the Arabic buildings in Syria, Mesopotamia, Persia, and even India, of the different epochs of Arabic rule. It would offer peculiar characters useful in an exact determination of style. We have reason to hope that skilful artists will soon supply this want.

COMMERCE AND INDUSTRY

The empire of the caliphs, in its extent, its rich soil, varied climate, people, and regulated condition of its provinces, naturally excited commercial speculation. The productions of Spain, Barbary, Egypt, Abyssinia, Arabia, Persia, and Russia, those of countries bordering on the Caspian Sea, as well as all Indian and China merchandise, came to Mecca, Medina, Cufa, Bassorah, Damascus, Baghdad, Mosul, and Madain (Modein). The founding of colonies had created new business centres and opened up important routes.

The Arabs were, moreover, devoted to industry by that same law which made of work a duty, and commended commerce and agriculture as meritorious and pleasing to God. Merchants and their callings elicited equal respect. Governors of provinces, generals, and servants did not blush to be known as Khayat the tailor, Atari the druggist, Jauhari the jeweller, etc. Free passage for merchandise through armies and the safety of the high-roads were maintained at all points. Wells and cisterns were dug in the desert, caravanseries were built at certain distances where travellers could find necessary help at a moderate cost.

Relations existed between Spain and the limits of eastern Asia; an Arab fleet had gone through the Straits of Gibraltar, and a tempest which drove them ashore hindered the possible honour of discovering the Azores, and perhaps America. But though restricted to the old world, the Moslems gave a strong impulse to every kind of human industry. Spain enriched herself with the products of Arabian agriculture and manufactures. Cane sugar, rice, cotton, saffron, ginger, myrrh, ambergris, pistachio, bananas, henna for dyeing, mohaleb to promote plumpness, were objects of exchange in the peninsula; tapestry of Cordova leather, Toledo blades, Murcia cloth made from beautiful wool, Granadan, Almerian, and Sevillian silks, and gun-cotton were sought in all parts of the world. Sulphur, mercury, copper, iron were exploited successfully; the finely tempered Spanish steel caused the helmets and cuirasses coming from its foundries to be quickly bought up. The environs of Seville were covered with olive trees, and contained one hundred thousand oil farms or oil-mills. The province of Valencia gave to Europe southern fruits. From the ports of Malaga, Cartagena, Barcelona, and Cadiz there were large exportations; and Christian nations patterned their maritime regulations upon those of the Arabs.

Under the Moors, as M. Darny has said, Toledo had 200,000 inhabitants and Seville 300,000; to-day the population is rated at 21,000 for the one, and 143,000 for the other. Cordova was eight leagues in circumference, had[274] 60,000 palaces, and 283,000 houses. To-day she has scarcely 56,000 inhabitants. The diocese of Salamanca then included 125 towns or boroughs; this number is now reduced to 13. Seville had 6000 workers on silk alone, yet in 1742 only 10,000 could be counted in the peninsula among both silk and wool factories.

The geographer Edrisi, who visited Spain in the middle of the eleventh century, assures us there were in the royal kingdom of Jaen more than 600 towns and hamlets working in silk. The expulsion of the Moors had for Spain as disastrous results as the revocation of the Edict of Nantes had for French commerce; and Cardinal Ximenes, desiring that even the remembrance of the service they had rendered should be destroyed, ordered in a decree worthy of barbarous times 84,000 Arabian manuscripts to be burned in the public squares of Granada.

The northerly coasts of Africa had also shown great commercial development. Numerous factories arose, and the Mauretanian Tingitana rivalled the peninsula in its manufacturing and rural activity. The country of Sous recalled Andalusia in its fertility and in the intelligence of its inhabitants. The East caught the infection of this general industry; at Siraf and Aden there was an exchange of goods between China, India, Persia, Ethiopia, and Egypt. Nubian slaves and Habasch, tiger skins, silk, cotton, ivory, and gold-dust from Zanzibar came from Ethiopia. India and China sent stuffs, saddles, sandalwood, spices, ebony, lead, tin, pearls, and precious stones. From Aden these goods were transported to Jiddah, then to Suez, and shared among Egyptian ports and Syrian coast towns. Countries bordering on the Caspian Sea bought stores at the Cabul fair; caravans from Samarcand to Aleppo distributed Chinese silks, cashmere cloth, musk, and medicinal drugs of Turkestan.

We have set forth the causes and principal effects of the great wave of civilisation poured forth in the Middle Ages by the Arabs, which rolled from the columns of Hercules to the confines of Asia. It remains, to complete this vast picture, only to say a few words on certain Arabian discoveries, which altered the literary, political, and military conditions of the entire world. These were paper, the compass, and gunpowder.

PAPER, COMPASS, AND GUNPOWDER

One has already seen how many useful and important inventions have been transmitted to us by the Arabs, and even although they were not perhaps the originators they must not be refused the glory of having brought them to the light and of having propagated them from one end of the world to the other. This is really what they did with paper, the compass, and gunpowder.

A belief, founded on certain apocryphal writing, that the Chinese knew the use thereof at a far distant epoch, has been considered sufficient to rob the Arabs of the honour of having bequeathed these inventions to Europe, but this is an injustice. It might be said that printing existed in China from the eighth century; yet the names of Gutenberg, Faust, and Schoeffer are not less illustrious. Would not the Arabs, if they had taken tissue paper from them, have also borrowed the art of printing had it then been known? Would those of the Celestial Empire ever practically have used chance discoveries? What use have they made of the compass, they who still believed in 1850 that there was a burning furnace at the South Pole;[275] and have they ever applied gunpowder and utilized its power in as many ways as the Arabs?

It must be remembered that at the siege of Mecca in 690 a kind of bomb was already in use, and that in Egypt in the thirteenth century powdered nitre was used to throw projectiles to a great distance with a noise like thunder. It is also mentioned on the occasion of a naval battle between the king of Tunis and the emir of Seville in the eleventh century, in 1308 at the siege of Gibraltar, in 1324 at that of Baeza; also as used by Ismail, king of Granada in 1340 and by Algeciras in 1342, and Ferreras says positively that the balls were shot by means of powder. The Spanish thenceforth made use of it, and one sees the European armies little by little provided with cannon, while no mention is made of their trials and attempts which would necessarily have preceded the organisation of artillery if the actual invention of gunpowder had originated with Christian nations as some writers and historians have long claimed.

With regard to the compass, nothing proves that the Chinese used it for navigation, while we find the Arabs using it in the eleventh century, not only for sea voyages, but in caravan journeys through the desert, and to determine the azimuth of the Kiblah, that is the direction of the Moslem oratories towards Mecca. It was the same with paper. Towards the year 650 silk paper was already being made at Samarcand and Bokhara. In 706 Jusuf Amron at Mecca thought of substituting cotton for silk; hence the “damask paper,” of which Greek historians speak. In Spain, where linen and hemp were more common, arose factories for linen paper. “The Xativa paper,” says the geographer Edrisi, “is excellent and incomparable.” Valencia and Catalonia soon afterwards proved formidable rivals to Xativa (Jativa). In the thirteenth century Arabian paper was used at Castile, whence it penetrated into France, Italy, England, and Germany. But Arabian manuscripts always led in the fineness and glossiness of their paper, as well as in the choice of ornamentation in lively and brilliant colours.

It was thus that the influence exercised by the Arabs manifested itself in every branch of modern civilisation. From the ninth to the fifteenth century the most voluminous literature extant was formed, productions were multiplied; valuable inventions attested the wonderful activity of men’s minds at this epoch; and their influence, felt throughout Christian Europe, justified the opinion that the Arabs have led us in all things. On the one hand we find inestimable material for a history of the Middle Ages—narratives of voyages, the happy idea of the biographical dictionary; on the other, unequalled industry, buildings grandiose in thought and execution, important discoveries in the arts. Does not all this reveal the work of a people too long disdained?g

[276]

INFLUENCE OF THE ARABS ON EUROPEAN CIVILISATION

“The nations of Europe,” says Bailly in one of his letters to Voltaire, “after having grown old in barbarism, were only enlightened by the invasion of the Moors and the arrival of the Greeks.” We venture to add—and far more by the invasion of the Moors, or of those to whom Bailly gives the name, than by the arrival of the Greeks of the Lower Empire. And, indeed, one of the distinctive and prominent characteristics of the influence which the Arabs exercised on all branches of modern civilisation, is precisely that of having restored to Europe a knowledge of the ancient Greek authors, whose language, works, and even names, were completely forgotten.

It may be boldly asserted that the numerous translations and still more numerous commentaries which the Arabs wrote on all the works of Ancient Greece, and which makes their literature the second daughter of Greek literature, served to give the modern peoples their first notions of the sciences and letters of antiquity. It was only after having known them through the versions of the Arabs that the desire to possess and understand the original writers took shape, and that the language of Homer and Plato found several diligent interpreters. Indeed, “The greater part of Greek erudition,” according to Hyde,h “which we have to-day from those sources, we received first from the hands of the Arabs.”

In order to justify this assertion, which may seem a little paradoxical, it will be sufficient to call attention to the fact that the Arabs had transmitted to Europe, without disguising its origin, the knowledge they borrowed from the Greeks, long before Boccaccio’s guest, Leontius Pilatus, had started a course on the Greek language at Florence (about 1360), and the dispersal of the inhabitants of Constantinople, after the taking of that town by Muhammed II (1453), had rendered their idiom a common study in Europe. Indeed many Greek books, and notably those which treated of the sciences, were originally translated from Arab into Latin. Among others may be cited the earliest versions of Euclid and Ptolemy.

A not less certain proof that Greek letters first received an asylum from the Arabs, is that several works of Ancient Greece have been preserved by them, and discovered in their own works. Mathematicians, for instance, would never have possessed the Sphericals of the geometrician Menelaus of Alexandria, who was antecedent to Ptolemy, but for the Arab translation (Kitab al-Okar), which was afterwards translated into Latin, nor the eight books of Apollonius of Perga’s Conic Sections, if the Maronite, Abraham Ecchellensis, had not copied and translated (1661) the missing fifth and sixth and seventh books from an Arab manuscript in the Medici library in Florence; neither would the doctors have been able to complete Galen’s Commentaries on Hippocrates’ Epidemics without the Arab translation discovered in the Escurial, and the naturalists would not even possess an abridgement of Aristotle’s Treatise on Stones but for the Arab manuscript in our (the French) National library.

If we trace the whole history of human knowledge, and recall the fact that Greece survived Rome in Alexandria, we may well assign the Arabs the position of guardians to that sacred depôt between Greece and the Renaissance. “They merit,” says M. Libri,i “eternal gratitude for having been the preservers of the learning of the Greeks and Hindus, when those people were no longer producing anything and Europe was still too ignorant to undertake the charge of the precious deposit. Efface the Arabs from history and the Renaissance of letters will be retarded in Europe by several centuries.”

[277]

In the matter of science especially, and far more than their forerunners the Romans, the Arabs were the heirs of the Greeks. If they far preferred Aristotle’s philosophy to that of Plato, it may have been because they saw in Plato what he actually was, namely one of the fathers of the Christian church, but it was certainly because Aristotle mingled the positive sciences with metaphysical speculation. Nevertheless Plato (Aflathoun), as well as Aristotle (Aristhathlis or Aristou), received from them the surname of Al-Elahi, or the Divine. It was not only on the masters, principes Scriptores, on Aristotle, Hippocrates, Dioscorides, Euclid, Ptolemy, Strabo, that their studies were directed and concentrated; there is no grammarian so mediocre, no rhetorician so poor, no sophist so subtle, that the Arabs have not translated and commented on him.

SCHOLASTICISM

It was in passing through their hands that the peripatetic doctrine engendered scholasticism. It is certain that, in the interminable wrangle between Realists and Nominalists the former leaned on the authority of Avicenna, the others on that of Averrhoës; it is certain, according to the observation of M. Hauréau,j that the philosopher Al-Kendi is often quoted by Alexander of Hales, Henry of Ghent and St. Bonaventura, whilst Al-Farabi furnished his aphorisms to William d’Auvergne, Vincent de Beauvais, and Albertus Magnus; and that this same William d’Auvergne prefers the Arabs far above the Greeks, finding the Greeks too much of philosophers and the Arabs more of theologians. Doubtless scholasticism was a vain and regrettable learning, for the schools of the Middle Ages, as Condillac says, resembled the knights’ tournaments, but, all the same, it produced some free thinkers, such as Johannes Scotus Erigena, Berengarius, Abélard, and William of Occam; and it was from it that, in after time, proceeded John Huss, Savonarola, Luther, Bruno, and Campanella.

After having laid hands on the various branches of the knowledge possessed by the ancient Greeks, who had remained superior to the Latins, in the sciences even more than in letters and not less than in the arts, and after having enlarged its domain in all directions, the Arabs laid it open to the nations of Europe, all of whom they had outdistanced. Spain was naturally the first to receive and spread their gifts. In the tenth century, in the most profound darkness of the Middle Ages, that country “to which,” says Haller,o “the humanities fled together,” was the only one which accepted and welcomed those solid studies, which were everywhere else repelled and destroyed, even in Constantinople, since the time of Leo the Isaurian (717).[278] Indeed, as early as the tenth century, when the Muzarab, John of Seville, translated the Holy Scriptures into Arabic, and when another Muzarab, Alvaro of Cordova, reproached his compatriots with forgetting their language and their law (legem suam nesciunt christiani et linguam propriam non advertunt Latini), in order to train themselves in the Arab doctrine (Arabico eloquio sublimati), Spain counted several illustrious scholars, Ayton, bishop of Vich, a Lupit of Barcelona, and a Joseph, who instructed Adalbero, archbishop of Rheims, all versed in mathematics and astronomy.

MATHEMATICAL SCIENCE

To Spain then came the small number of foreigners who were tormented by the desire to know. Gerbert (born in Auvergne about 930, elected pope in 999, under the name of Silvester II, died in 1003), so celebrated for his adventures, his learning, and his labours, after going through all the schools of France, Italy, and Germany without being able to satisfy the passion for instruction which possessed him, came finally to Spain to seek that physical and mathematical knowledge which raised such admiration in France, Germany, and Italy, whither he returned to spread them, that the prodigies of his learning could only be explained by the accusation of having delivered himself over to the devil.

Gerbert is unanimously credited with having been the first to introduce the use of Arabic figures into these countries, and with having added some elementary notions of algebra to the calculations of arithmetic. He also passes as the first constructor of clocks. Whether, as most of his biographers affirm, Gerbert pursued his studies as far as the homes of the Arabs in Cordova and Seville, or whether he only made a long sojourn in Catalonia and associated with the scholars of that country, as is witnessed to by his collection of Epistles, addressed in great part to Catalans like Borrell, count of Barcelona, Ayton, Joseph, and Lupit, it is none the less certain that Gerbert learned all he knew from the Arabs, and that that knowledge, so prodigious as to appear supernatural, was, as William of Malmesbury says, “stolen from the Saracens.”

His example and his success roused other foreigners to come and glean, where he had made so ample a harvest. The German Hermannus-Contractus (who died in 1054), author of the book, De Compositione Astrolabii; the English Adelard, who translated the first Arabic Euclid into Latin (about 1130); the Italian Campano of Novara, who published a Theory of the Planets; Daniel Morley; Otto of Freising; with Hermann the German; Plato of Tivoli; Gerard of Cremona, who translated at Toledo itself, Alhazen; Avicenna, Rhazes, Albucasis, and even Ptolemy’s Almagest, not from the Greek, but from the Arabic—that Gerard of Cremona of whom it was said: “At Toledo he lived, Toledo he raised to the stars”—all went in succession to gather in Spain the elements of mathematics, physics, and astronomy, which they carried thence to their compatriots.

Montuclak not only says that “the Arabs were long the sole depositaries of learning, and that it is to their commerce that we owe the first rays of light which came to chase away the darkness of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth centuries”; he adds that “during this period, all who obtained the greatest reputation in mathematics had been to acquire their knowledge amongst the Arabs.” It is asserted that all the authors who wrote on the exact sciences before the fifteenth century did nothing but copy the Arabs,[279] or, at the most, enlarge upon their lessons. Such were the Italian Leonardo da Pisa, the Polish Vitellio, the Spaniard Raymond Lully, the English Roger Bacon, and finally the French Arnauld de Villeneuve, who is credited with having discovered spirits of wine, oil of turpentine, and other chemical preparations.

During the same period, the whole of European geography was limited to the Seven Climates of Edrisi, and, in the seventeenth century, when correcting by Abu Ishak Ibrahim ben Yahya certain geographical errors, Abraham Hinckelmann was able to say: “The greatest assistance and illumination for posterity we owe to Arabism.” As to the famous Astronomical Tables of Alfonso X, they, like his book on Armillaries or celebrated spheres, only sum up the discoveries of the Arabs previous to the thirteenth century. It was from their works that all his learning was drawn by that celebrated monarch, who received the surname of the Wise (or learned), and who did indeed effect some advancement in science, between the system of Ptolemy and that of Copernicus. The Alphonsine Tables are borrowed from the various Ziji or tables of the Arab astronomers, and reproduce their form and substance.

When Louis XIV had a degree of the meridian measured geometrically, in order to determine the size of the earth, he doubtless did not know that five centuries before, the caliph Al-Mamun had ordered the same operation to be performed by his astronomers at Baghdad. In the Middle Ages, according to Bailly,l “the first step taken towards the revival of learning was the translation of Alfergan’s Elements of Astronomy.” That famous Spanish rabbi, Aben-hezra (or Esdra), who was surnamed the Great, the Wise, the Admirable, on account of his book on The Sphere, was born at Toledo, in 1119, and had been a disciple of the Arabs in astronomy. He spread his masters’ lessons throughout Europe. It was from Albategnius, more than from Ptolemy, that Sacrobosco (John of Holywood) had drawn the materials for his book De Sphera Mundi; it was in Albategnius, too, that the commentator on that great astronomer, Regiomontanus (Johann Müller, of Königsberg, Regius Mons), had found the first notion of tangents. It was from Alhazen’s Twilight that the illustrious Kepler took his ideas of atmospheric refraction; and it may be that Newton himself owes to the Arabs, rather than to the apple in his orchard at Woolsthorpe, the first apperception of the system of the universe; for Muhammed ben Musa (quoted in the Bibliot. arab. Philosophorum) seems, when writing his books on The Movement of the Celestial Bodies and on The Force of Attraction, to have had an inkling of the great law of general harmony.

MEDICINE

The influence of the Arabs on all the natural sciences, chemical or medical, is not less incontestable than their influence on the mathematical sciences. Roger Bacon and Raymond Lully were as much their pupils in the attempted science of alchemy, the “grand art,” as in the actual science of numerical calculations. It was by them also that Albertus Magnus (Albrecht Grotus or Gross, born in Swabia in 1193), that universal scholar, the eminent master of St. Thomas Aquinas, whom, like Gerbert, men called “the magician,” was initiated into all the learning of the Aristotelian school. And even after the year 1600, Fabricius Acquapendente could say, “Celsus amongst the Latins, Paulus Ægineta amongst the Greeks, and Albucasis amongst the[280] Arabs, form a triumvirate to whom I confess that I am under the greatest obligations.”

Even as the astronomer Albategnius in the domain of heaven, or the geographer Edrisi in that of the earth, so Avicenna and Averrhoës reigned supreme over medicine, during six hundred years, down to the sixteenth century. At Montpellier and Louvain, commentaries on Avicenna were still being made in the last century. Both Boerhaave and Haller concede this long predominance to Arab medicine, and Brucker could say with perfect truth: “Until the renascence of literature, not only among the Arabs, but also indeed among the Christians, Avicenna rules all but alone.” When, in the very beginning of the thirteenth century, the Portuguese doctor Pedro Juan, who was archbishop of Braga and then pope under the title of John XXI, wrote his Treasury of the Poor, or Remedies for all Maladies, his Treatise on Hygiene, and his Treatise on the Formation of Man, he was copying the Arabs.

It was from Spain then that all the doctors of Europe came, and that, through them, the taste for science and letters was extended. “The Spanish doctors,” says Haller, “while their people were gradually recovering the country, communicated the love of letters to the Italians.” It was to Spain, at all events, that the Jews, then so renowned for their healing art, went to study, to afterwards scatter, like young doctors leaving the university, through the various countries of Europe. Kings and popes took their doctors from the Jews. To cite only a few famous instances, we call attention to the fact that the physician of Alfonso the Fighter, king of Aragon, Pedro Alfonso, author of some Latin tales, part of which were translated in Francesco Sansovino’s Cento Novelle Antiche, was a converted Jew; and Paul Ricius, physician to the emperor Maximilian I, was a Jew who remained a Jew. The latter had studied in Spain, where he translated the at-Takrif of Albucasis, the book which Haller calls the “common fountain” of modern medicine. We have seen that the Arabs practised a multitude of surgical operations, unknown to the ancients, and in like manner enriched pharmacy by a multitude of new medicaments.

But one fact sums up in itself all the proofs of the influence which the Arabs exerted on the medical art, and that is that the famous school of Salerno, whose laws were once followed throughout Europe, owes its origin to the Arabs. When (about 1000) the Norman, Robert Guiscard, took Salerno from the people called Saracens, who had occupied the south of Italy for more than two centuries, he found a school of medicine established there by these infidels. He had the wisdom to preserve it, enrich it, and to give it Constantine Africanus as chief. This man was a Moor from Carthage, whom travels and adventures flung, like Edrisi, into the power of the Normans of Sicily; who took the cowl at the monastery of Monte Cassino under the celebrated abbot Desiderius, afterwards Pope Victor III; and, in his retreat, translated into Latin all his compatriots’ works on the healing art. He thus ended by founding the school of Salerno, for it was from his works that all the aphorisms of the Medicina Salertina were taken. As the University of Montpellier had for founders (about 1200) the Aragonese, to whom that town, which was then almost modern and had not yet inherited the bishopric of Maguelonne, at that time belonged, it may be asserted, according to the generally received tradition, that its faculty of medicine was founded at least indirectly by the Arabs, and that it was in that sense grounded on their teaching—the sole adopted, the sole reigning one, the most enlightened and scientific of the age.

[281]

ARCHITECTURE

As to the influence of Arabs on architecture, the only one of the fine arts which religion permitted Moslems to cultivate, it seems that it cannot be set in doubt that it appears with as much certainty as distinction. The question has often been asked: Whence came it that the architecture of the close of the Middle Ages, that which passed from the round to the pointed arch, and from basilicas to cathedrals, was called Gothic? As this name, if it implied a northern origin, would be in flagrant contradiction with the facts, the question has remained unanswered.

But we must remind ourselves that the name Gothic has not been given only to the architecture which the twelfth and thirteenth centuries saw prevailing. The handwriting and the missal, which in the year 1091 were replaced in Spain by the Latin (then called French) characters, and by the Roman ritual, were also called Gothic. They had received and preserved this name of Gothic because their use dated from the time when Spain was the domain of the Goths. Might it not also be because the first lessons in the new architecture came to Europe through Spain, that this architecture, e.g., like the Spanish handwriting and liturgy, was named Gothic?

This perfectly simple and natural explanation is, moreover, in complete accordance with history. The conjectures of men versed in the matter are agreed on this point—that modern architecture had its birth at Byzantium, that second Rome where the arts took refuge when they were driven out of Italy. The Byzantine architects, who were the first to mingle the capricious and flowery style of the East with the sober and regular style of ancient Greece, had two sorts of pupils—the Arabs and the Germanic peoples. The former first founded the architecture called Moorish or Saracen; and afterwards the latter, that which later on was called Gothic. Starting from the same point the two architectures remain analogous, almost similar, during two centuries, both preserving, with the differences imposed by the climate, the traditions of their common origin. Thus the mosque of Cordova, raised by a prince of Syria, and the old basilicas of Germany are equally sprung from the Byzantine style. Then they separate, to take each a style of its own. The Moslem architecture preserves the system of surbased naves, and takes as its special characteristic the horseshoe arch, that is to say, one narrowing at its base, and having the form of an inverted crescent.

Christian architecture adopts the system of high, pointed naves, and its distinctive characteristic becomes the pointed arch, substituted for the pagan round arch. But it must be noticed that the Arabs had employed the pointed arch before the Christians; that, in Spain especially, a multitude of monuments prove their use of this form which was unknown to antiquity; and that it is doubtless because the pointed arch, now become the striking and characteristic feature of Christian architecture, had passed from Spain into Europe, that the whole system was named Gothic. Finally, these two architectures derived from Byzantium, the Arab and the Germanic, becoming ever more and more assimilated, end by merging, at the close of eight centuries, into the style called Renaissance. No one denies, no one disputes, the striking resemblance which exists between the Arab monuments and those of Europe in the Middle Ages. This resemblance is not only found in the great edifices of the capitals, for the construction of which Saracen architects were sometimes called in, as happened in the case of Notre Dame de Paris itself. It can be traced even in the humblest buildings of the little towns.

[282]

“Thus,” says Viardot,m “I have found the multilobar arch of the Mezquita at Cordova in the cloisters of Norwich cathedral, and the delicate colonnette of the Alhambra in the church of Notre Dame at Dijon. This resemblance was, then, not merely casual and fortuitous; it was general and permanent. Nothing further is needed to prove the thesis. If Christian and Arab art resembled each other, and if one preceded the other, it is evident that of the two one was imitated and the other the imitator. Was it the Arab art which imitated the Christian art? No; for the priority of its works is manifest and incontestable; for Europe, in the Middle Ages, received all its knowledge from the Arabs, and must also have received from them the only art whose cultivation the law of religion permitted.”

MUSIC

The impossibility which exists, in spite of the efforts of all modern scholars, of our having an acquaintance, even an imperfect and approximate one, with the music of the Greeks, must teach and give a conception of the great difficulty of procuring proofs of the state of this art, or discovering and understanding monuments of it, once the traditions are interrupted. It is a dead language in which none can now read. In the preceding section we have had to limit ourselves to demonstrating that the Arabs cultivated music as a very important and very advanced art. In the archives of the chapter of Toledo, there exists a precious monument of the influence which they exercised on modern music. This is a manuscript, annotated in the hand of Alfonso the Wise himself, and including the canticles (cantigas) composed by that prince, with the music to which they were sung. In it we find not only the six notes ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la, invented, towards 1030, by the monk Guido of Arezzo, but also the seventh note, the five lines, and the keys, whose discovery was subsequent, and even the upward and downward tails of the notes, the use of which was not introduced into the musical writing of the rest of Europe until much later. Up till then music had served only for the psalmodies of the church, for the plain chant of hymns and antiphons. This manuscript, copied and cited in the Paleographia Castellana is, according to all appearance, the most ancient monument of the regular application of music to ordinary and profane poetry.

As Alfonso X owes his prodigious learning chiefly to the study of the Arabs, it would be scarcely possible to doubt that, for this book as for all his works, he borrowed from them a science already formed and even then committed to writing by Al-Farabi, Abul-Faraj, etc., and which Alfonso might very well have understood with the help of the Muzarabs of Seville. This supposition, which would attribute to the Arabs a notable share in the creation of modern music, has all the more the appearance of truth since the first instruments adopted by the Spaniards, the French, and the other nations of Europe were named moresques in all languages. To this day the chirimia and dulzaina of the Moors, so often mentioned by Cervantes and his contemporaries, are still used in the country of Valencia. As to the modern stringed instruments, they all had as model the lute (al-aoud, whence laud in Spanish) of the Arabs, who have also given Spain the kitara (guitarra), since become the national instrument of the people whose masters they were in all things.

Several theorists, J. J. Rousseau amongst others, have proposed to write music in figures, assuredly without suspecting that the Arabs had already[283] practised that mode of notation. Kiesewettern calls attention to the fact that, the Arab scale having seventeen intervals, the Arabs were able to write and actually did write music with their figures, employing the numbers one to eighteen for the first octave, one to thirty-five for two octaves, and so on. May it not be from this ancient use of the Arab figures in musical writing that the employment of the same figures for the figured bass, in which a simple number denotes a chord, came into vogue? It is possible and very probable.

The old Spanish music, that which is preserved in Andalusia under the name of cañas, rondeñas, playeras, etc., differing greatly from the boleros of comic operas and eluding the modern notation, is certainly of Arab origin. Who are they who have preserved it in the tradition of this country? An eastern race, a nomadic race, that of those Bohemians who, coming from Egypt about the fourteenth century, and perhaps before that from India, spread themselves throughout Europe and were called gitanos in Spain, zingari in Italy, gipsies in England, zigeuner in Germany, and tzigani in Russia, whilst naming themselves pharaons.

These nomads, with their immutable customs, who are still to-day not only in Spain but in Russia the same in physique and moral character as Cervantes has depicted them, have carried and retained everywhere the ancient songs of their problematic country. As the musicians of the people, formed into troupes of singers and dancers, they have everywhere spread the form and sentiment of their antique melodies. “It was through them,” concludes Viardot, “that, in Russia as in Spain, popular music took or kept the oriental character; it was from them that in Moscow, at the foot of the towers of the Kremlin, I listened to the same songs as in the gardens of the Alhambra of Granada. In both places I had heard from their lips a living echo of the Arab music.”m

---

[284]

CHAPTER XI. TRIBAL LIFE OF THE EPIC PERIOD

Specially Contributed to the Present Work

By Dr. JULIUS WELLHAUSEN[41]

Professor in the University at Göttingen

People who are unlearned in the law, are apt to assume that it executes itself; or at least they think it absolutely necessary that law and the execution of law should go hand in hand. But in the primitive stages of human society it was not so. The law existed long before there was any magistracy to carry it into effect, and even after magisterial authority had been established, it frequently left, not only the pursuit, but the execution of law to the parties concerned. An instructive picture of such a state of things is found in the copious literature that has been preserved with regard to the Epic Period of the ancient Arabs, i.e., the period immediately preceding their amazing irruption into the world’s history through the gate of Islam.

The desert has imprinted its stamp upon the Arabs. They are particularly interesting for this very reason, that by the desert they have, so to speak, been arrested at what is in many respects a very primitive stage of development. Yet we must not imagine them roving about it like wild animals, gathering together for temporary ends and dispersing just as they please. As a matter of fact, they have no settled abodes, they are not tied to the soil nor linked with one another by a fixed domicile, and consequently they are not organised on the basis of locality, according to districts, towns, and villages. But they have instead an inner principle of association and organisation, of union and distinction, inherent in the very elements of race. It is the principle of consanguinity, of kinship. For the Arab, his political genus, his differentia specifica, are innate as indelible characteristics. He knows the clan to which he belongs, and the stock to which his clan belongs; the tribe or nation of which the stock is a part, and the larger group that includes the[285] tribe or nation. Associations are regarded by them as natural units, founded on consanguinity, and they stand in a close and natural relationship, one to another, corresponding to nearer or remoter degrees of consanguinity (by the father’s side) so that their statistics assume the form of a genealogy.

Among the ancient Hebrews this form survived even after they had settled in towns and villages; Isaac was the father of the nations of Israel and Edom, Israel the father of twelve tribes, Judah the father of five lineages, and each lineage in its turn father or grandfather of clans and families. Such a principle of organisation is equally serviceable for settlement or migration, for war or peace; and being independent of all conditions of fixed localities, it makes the tribe as mobile as an army. For an army, too, must possess an organisation adaptable to every place, and as suitable to a hostile country as to its own. But an army is broken up into artificial divisions; the men may be put into one branch or another at will, and the place of the individual in the whole scheme is notified by artificial marks of distinction. With the Arabs, on the other hand, the form is indistinguishable from the substance, they are born into their cadres, and their uniform is, as it were, innate to them. The closer or remoter circles of kindred, from the clan to the nation, are their companies, battalions, and regiments, which include not only the fighting men, but their wives and children also, though the latter take no direct part in any fight.

The two most important stages of the political affinity are the highest and the lowest, the two poles, as it were, of the system; the intermediate stages are less important, because they assume the qualities of one pole or the other, according to circumstances. The highest association, which we call the tribe, includes all the families which migrate together regularly, i.e., which make the circuit of certain hunting-grounds, often great distances apart, according to the season of the year. One tribe will not contain more than a few thousand souls; if it exceeds that number, it becomes too large for common migration and pasturage and is obliged to divide. The lowest is the clan, which consists of families within the nearest degrees of kinship, which invariably pitch their tents close together in a common quarter (dâr).

Beyond the tribe the bond of consanguinity does not break off abruptly; it embraces also the group of such tribes which stand in any sort of historic relation to one another. But in this wider circle the ties of kinship cease to be really effective.

The Arabs as a whole, though linked together by community of speech, of intellectual acquirements and social forms, are not really a nation; neither can the larger groups into which they have split up be called nations; the nation is the tribe. The tribe is the source and the limit of political obligation; what lies outside the tribe is alien. This does not mean that a perpetual and open bellum omnium contra omnes prevails in Arabia; the relations of the tribes among themselves vary greatly, and may be friendly as a result of kinship and treaty. But inasmuch as the idea of common duty of man to man does not exist among them, and no moral law is valid beyond the tribe, everybody alien from the tribe is an enemy as a matter of course. If he is caught in the hunting-grounds of the tribe without a special security, he is an outlaw and fair game. “When I and my people were tormented with hunger,” says an old Bedouin, “God sent me a man who was travelling alone with his wife and his herd of camels; I slew him and took his wife and camels for my own.” He considers the murder perfectly lawful, and is only surprised that a stranger should presume to rove about the country with his wife and his cattle and without a strong escort.

[286]

Yet the narrow bounds of the tribal community are capable of enlargement. There are means whereby even the alien can attain the security of a member of the tribe. If he seizes the hem of his enemy’s garment from behind, or ties a knot in the end of his turban, or knots his rope with his own, he has nothing further to fear. If he succeeds in creeping into the other’s tent, or in being introduced and entertained there by the wife or child, his life is sacred. The sanctity of the hearth is unknown among the Arabs, even their altar is not a hearth and is without any fire; but, on the other hand, the tent and those within it are sacred, and even to touch the tent-cords from outside renders a stranger safe from attack. By a sacramental act, accompanied with a simple form of words, he disarms his enemy and assures his own safety. Of course protection is not always stolen, as it were, in this fashion, it may be extended voluntarily; for example, there are cases when the man who grants protection flings his mantle over the one who implores it, thus making him out as his own property which no man may injure.

If a foreign trader desires to travel through the tribe without peril, one of its members must give him a safe-conduct; very often he merely gives him some recognisable piece of his own property to take with him as a passport or charter of legitimation. The relations which arise in this manner are, for the most part, transitory.[42]

But there are also permanent and hereditary relations of this sort, based in part upon contract and oath. A member of a tribe may allow a stranger to sojourn permanently with his clan, and by adoption into the clan the sojourner is considered naturalised by the whole tribe. Not individuals only, but whole clans and families can thus be naturalised, and instances thereof are not uncommon. A fresh element is consequently grafted on the pure tribal stock in these sojourners or protégés. In a few generations they may amalgamate with the tribal stock, but as fresh batches are constantly coming in from without, the distinction between the two elements within the tribe remains.

Consanguinity and contiguity combine to weld the tribe together; external bonds there are none. Blood-relationship is the higher and stronger principle, and neighbourhood passes into brotherhood. All political and military duties are looked upon as obligations of blood or brotherhood. The relations of the individual to larger associations and the community as a whole are precisely the same in character, though less intimate in degree, as those which bind him to his own family. There is no res publica in contradistinction to domestic concerns, no difference, in fact, between what is public and what is private. In principle, at least, all men have the same rights and duties, and no man has one-sided rights or duties. Everything is based on reciprocity, on loyalty and fellowship, and the complementary notions of duty and right, of ruler and subject, of patron and client, are expressed by one and the same word. There are neither officers nor officials, neither jailers nor executioners. There is no magisterial authority, no sovereign power, separable from the association and the individual, with a revenue of its own drawn from taxation and an independent administration by official organisation. The functions of the community are exercised by all its members equally. The prerogative and obligations of the state as we understand it, which can only be fitly discharged by its civil officers, are to the Arab things that the individual is bound to do, not under compulsion from without, but from the corporate feeling of neighbourhood and brotherhood. By his own active exertions the individual has constantly to create afresh those things[287] which with us are permanent organisations and institutions, which lead or seem to lead an independent life of their own. The Arabs stop at the foundations, building no upper story upon them which could be handed over ready-made to their heirs and in which they might live at their ease.

In other words, among the Arabs political relations are moral, for morality is confined within the limits of the tribe. Political organisation is represented by the corporate feeling which finds expression in the exercise of the duties of brotherhood. These require a man to say “good day” to his fellows, or “God bless you,” if anyone sneezes, not to shut himself up from others, nor to take offence easily, to visit the sick, to pay the last honours to the dead, to feed the poor in time of dearth, to protect and care for the widow and the orphan; likewise to slaughter a camel now and again in winter, to arrange sports and there regale the rest with its flesh, for no man slaughters for himself alone, and every such occasion is a feast for the whole company. Such are the common demonstrations of brotherly kindness by which corporate spirit is kept alive under ordinary circumstances. But the greatest duty in which all others culminate is to help a brother in need. Political duty therefore occupies an essentially subordinate place. The great thing in all cases is that the individual should act and should see himself how to get along, but, of course, he is quite at liberty to concert measures with his comrades. The rest are only bound to assist him in time of need, and then they must answer to his call without asking whether he is right or wrong; as he has brewed, so they must drink. The whole tribe does not always rise at once, the primary obligation rests with the clan. The clan has the right of inheritance together with the next duty of paying the debts of any member of it, delivering him from captivity, acting as his compurgators, and assisting him in procuring vengeance or paying mulcts. The larger associations only become involved when the need is great, and more particularly in cases of enmity with another tribe.

It will readily be imagined that a community based so exclusively on mutual fellowship does not fulfil its tasks very satisfactorily, and that the system is not particularly workable. There are many indolent or refractory members who do not fulfil their duties towards the community for lack of coercion from without, and because the only pressure that can be brought to bear upon them, the shame of falling short in the eyes of their kinsfolk or in public opinion, is of no avail against their cowardice or perverse obstinacy. Moreover, individual liberty of action is too little restricted by a due regard for the interests of the community. There is nothing to prevent a man from undertaking on his own account a raid which may kindle a flame of war that will wrap his whole tribe in its conflagration and even spread beyond. Or by the admittance of a stranger into his tent and his clan, which he regards as an obligation of honour and of religion, he may involve his tribe in great difficulties by imposing on them the burden of henceforth protecting the said stranger against his pursuers who may be seeking to arrest him for some crime.

But a more fruitful source of discord than individual cases of friction is the competition between the tribe and the clan. There is no doubt that these polar associations did not spring from the same root, but differ in their very origin; the tribe probably coalesced under the rule of a communistic matriarchal system (endogamous), while the clan is based on an aristocratic patriarchal system (exogamous). At the present time the tribe is regarded as merely an expansion of the clan, both being held together by the same paternal consanguinity. But the degrees of political kinship vary, the ties of blood have not the same force throughout; they act far more effectively[288] in the smaller circle than in the larger. The individual stands in no direct relation to the tribe; his connection with it is through the intermediate links of the clan and the family; his membership in the community is conditioned by his membership of the subordinate groups. As a rule, therefore, the individual finds that his skin is nearer to him than his shirt whenever the interests of tribe and clan diverge. And it goes without saying that this is very often the case.

The defects of the system are to some extent compensated by certain rudiments of government to be found among the Arabs. There is a leading aristocracy; the clans have their chief, and a head chief, the said, is at the head of every tribe. The position of all these chiefs depends upon voluntary recognition of the fact that they are fitted to hold it by their personal qualities and their fortune. They are spontaneously appointed by the common voice, without election or any similar process, and though there is an inclination to make the authority hereditary and the sons reap the advantage of gratitude felt toward their fathers, yet each man must, by his own ability, anew make good his claim to the honours he has inherited if he is to remain in power and public esteem. The word of these chieftains carries most weight in the assemblies in which they meet every evening to talk, dispute, and deliberate. The said gives the casting vote. He decides, for instance, when the tribe shall start on its migrations and when it shall encamp. Generally speaking, however, the chiefs and the said have no advantage over the rest in privilege, but only in obligation. Among the Arabs noblesse oblige is no empty phrase, but a substantial truth. The nobles must distinguish themselves above the rest in the duties incumbent upon all; they must take on their shoulders the burden which others pass by, and out of their own abundance make good the deficit caused by lack of corporate feeling in the multitude. They must be liberal in all things; must not spare their blood in feud nor their goods in peace; they must entertain the stranger, maintain the widow and the orphan, feed the hungry and help the debtor to pay. The principal share in bearing the common burden falls to the said. In return he receives the fourth part of all booty, but he nevertheless often spends his whole fortune for the common stock; his position brings him honour and reputation, but never gain, and therefore does not procure him the envy of baser natures. But his most important duty is to maintain the unity of the tribe and to check the disintegration to which it is liable from individual selfishness and the particularism of the various clans. He is there to step into the breach, as the biblical phrase has it. He is the born mediator and peacemaker.

For all that, he can only negotiate and apply moral pressure. He is but the first among equals; he has great authority but no supreme power, and in the last resort that is not enough either for the external or internal affairs of the community. In war there is no thought of compulsory service, no idea of discipline, of absolute command and obedience. If one clan will not go out with the rest, it separates from them and hardens its heart against their mockery and contempt. If the men will not follow their leader, he sometimes has recourse to an attempt to put them to shame by setting up his sword and threatening to fall upon it, unless he is obeyed. Danger from without is, however, the readiest means of inducing them to submit to a single will, whereas the lack of a central sovereign authority is much more sorely felt in internal affairs.

The only function of the ancient community, apart from self-defence, is the maintenance of peace within its own borders, and the means to this end[289] is the law. The Old Testament, for instance, knows nothing of administration as a function of the state; to rule is to judge, and the generic term for ruler is judge.

The Arabs are not without law, though with them its limits are wider and less strictly defined than with us and include the decision of questions which do not lead to impeachments and law-suits, but refer to duties, not rights.

They also have judges who administer justice. Disputes between fellow tribesmen are brought under discussion in the daily palaver and are there settled without any legal formalities. But international disputes, i.e., matters disputed between members of different tribes, may also be settled by law, if both parties agree to choose an arbitrator to whom they will refer the decision. Anyone may undertake this office; in difficult cases a seer or priest is frequently applied to, or some other man who enjoys general confidence and has a reputation for exceptional wisdom. The arbitrator sometimes makes the parties swear to accept his verdict, whatever it may be, but his business is merely to discover and interpret the law, and he has no power to enforce it. The disputants consequently apply to the judge merely to learn the rules of the law, not to sue for and obtain their rights. His judgment has no legal force and does not entail the execution of the sentence, with which, in fact, it has nothing to do.

An instance of what appears to us so singular a state of things, may make the matter clearer. Shortly before Mohammed’s arrival at Medina, a man of that city went to law with a Bedouin from the neighbourhood before a wise woman about a sum of money, i.e., camels. The woman decided in favour of the man of Medina; he was a well-known person, Suwaid, the son of Samit, by name. When they came to the parting of the ways, Suwaid said to the Bedouin, “Who will be surety that thou wilt pay me the camels?” The other promised to send them as soon as he reached home. But Suwaid, not satisfied with this, wrestled with his debtor, threw him, and bound him. He then carried him off to Medina and kept him in custody, until his kinsmen redeemed him by paying him what he owed.

Criminal jurisdiction, as we understand it, is rendered impossible by the absence of a supreme authority, a magisterial tribunal. Although fidelity to one’s kindred is a moral law and the violation of it a sin, yet the Arabs have not reached the abstract conception of crime against the community at large, still less of punishment inflicted by the community—since for the community to cast off a troublesome or unworthy member is not, strictly speaking, a punishment. They only recognise private offences, and the punishment of these is the business of the individual. There is no official process of investigation with the coercive methods of vigorous cross-examination. If anything is stolen, the owner proclaims his loss aloud and lays the thief under a curse unless he restores the missing article, and all his accomplices likewise, unless they tell what they know of it. If murder or manslaughter has been committed by an unknown hand and this or that man is suspected of being the perpetrator, his clan takes an oath of purgation for him, which may, however, be counterbalanced by an oath to the opposite effect on the part of the dead man’s clan.

The punishment of an offence is of course left to the sufferer. It is his business to see how he can best get compensation for the wrong done him and to seek for help wherever he may find it. He is not forbidden to take vengeance into his own hands, nor is there any compulsion to make him have recourse to law instead of so doing. The individual may, of his own free[290] will, refrain from violent measures, if he pleases, and may enter into negotiations, which are then conducted on the basis of a legal principle, of an inner material law. But if, instead of avenging himself, he resorts to legal proceedings, the question is never one of the punishment of a crime,—which, indeed, could hardly be settled by agreement between the contending parties,—but merely of compensation for a loss. Compensation can be given for everything for which vengeance might be exacted. All crimes are treated in the same manner by the law, and assessed as economic damage. Every loss of honour, property, or life can be appraised by agreement; they all have their price in camels. Vengeance is not thereby appeased, but if revenge is relinquished, the law demands no more.

The worst and most serious crime is bloodshed. Malice or accident, war or peace, make no difference to this. Its natural and primary consequence is blood-revenge. This is, in the first place, the duty of the next heir, but it quickly extends to others, for the clan of the slayer does not desert him, but takes his part, and consequently also the slain man’s whole clan naturally helps the avenger against them. The result is a state of war between the two clans, which finds expression in occasional murders, often at long intervals. All members of the clan are considered accomplices; they espouse one another’s quarrel as in war, and fall victims to vengeance without distinction of persons. Every new member is a fresh motive for vengeance, and thus revenge incessantly breeds revenge. Thus blood-revenge necessarily results in blood-feud between the clans. It has been supposed that blood-feuds are only carried on between two hostile tribes, and not between kindred clans belonging to the same tribe, as that would constitute a breach of tribal unity. But the preservation of tribal unity is a moral axiom only, and incapable of keeping the centrifugal forces under effective control. The clan’s right of feud is undisputed, and, as a matter of fact, blood-feuds are carried on also within the tribe as well as without. The duty of vengeance is more vividly realised than duty to the tribe; it is a sacred primary law which takes precedence of all political considerations. Even if brother slays brother in the same clan, the result is a blood-feud, though the cases on record are as a rule supposititious, not real, just as similar cases are treated by the Greeks as tragic problems in the Oresteia and the Œdipodeia.

Law can be substituted for revenge in murder as in other crimes, that is to say, even blood-guiltiness can be paid off in money, i.e., in camels. This is done by agreement between debtor and creditor or between the clans of both; and when the agreement is brought about, the source of the blood-feud is estopped. In quarrels within the tribe it is the duty of the chiefs, and of the head chief more particularly, to induce the disputants to consent to an accommodation by law. They then negotiate as between two belligerent powers; they can only mediate for peace, not impose it. Sometimes they are successful, sometimes not. Mecca and Medina furnish the best instances of both results. Very often the disputants do not make peace until their strength is utterly exhausted. Then the balance-sheet is drawn up, the debit and credit in dead and wounded compared, and the difference made up in camels.

But it is obvious that in this case the incongruity between what vengeance demands and what the law accords is too glaring. The Arabs are keenly alive to this fact, and it is not considered honourable to accept camels as satisfaction for a murder—to sell blood for milk, as their phrase goes. Vengeance is far better appeased by positive amends on a less unequal scale, by blood for blood, an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. This is sometimes[291] made by peaceful means, and that is what is called talio. The criminal is not sheltered by his own people, but is handed over to the avenger that he may requite him for what he has done. If the heritage of vengeance has passed to a child, the execution is often deferred till his majority.

By this means the quarrel is confined to the parties immediately concerned, the clans are not implicated, blood-revenge does not degenerate into blood-feud, nor does it exceed in the heat of passion the measure of strict retribution. As a matter of fact talio appears to have been common in cases of mere bodily injury. An amusing instance is recorded in the life of Mohammed. At the battle of Bedr he ranged his men in a long straight row, forming them into line with the shaft of a spear. In so doing he struck somewhat heavily upon the body of a man whose figure projected beyond the straight line, and the individual, whose name and race are exactly recorded, complained of his violence. Mohammed promptly offered his own body and said, “Take unto thyself the talio,” which, however, the other magnanimously declined to do. From this we see that also a military commander in the exercise of his official functions differs in nothing from a private person in the eyes of the law. Imagine a scene of this sort between officer and private on a modern parade-ground!

If, however, it is not a question of satisfaction for mere corporeal injuries, but of blood for blood, the situation becomes far more difficult; for if mulct is unwillingly taken, talio is far more unwillingly given. It is the direst disgrace for any clan to give up one of its members, no matter what his crime, into the hands of another clan which intends to put him to death; rather will they slay him themselves. Hence the talio, though an efficacious means of keeping blood-revenge within bounds and blunting its dangerous edges as far as the peace and unity of the tribe are concerned, cannot be practically enforced in the ancient Arabic community, because it has no sovereign power over the tribe.

The first Arabic community with sovereign powers was established by Mohammed in the city of Medina, not upon the basis of blood, which naturally tends to diversity, but upon that of religion, which is equally binding on all. There for the first time the talio becomes effective, there it can be enforced. The community, at the head of which God stands, and the prophet as God’s representative, has power to deliver the shedder of blood over to the avenger, and it is the duty of the community to see that this is done. “In the talio ye have the life,” says the Koran; and a commentary is provided by the hideous anarchy, conjured up by blood-feuds, which prevailed in Medina before the coming of Mohammed—life was then indeed impossible. And in another place the Koran says, “If a man have slain one person unlawfully, it is as if he had slain all men.” In other words the murder of an individual is to be regarded as a crime committed against the whole community, and the whole body must see to it that lawful vengeance may have its course. The execution of vengeance is, however, still left to the rightful avenger; and he is at liberty to exercise his right or renounce it, either freely or for a price. The talio is not yet a punishment, it is only the transition stage to it from revenge.

Originally even Islam knew nothing of the capital punishment publicly inflicted, of a ritual execution by the community and its officers, at least not in cases of murder or manslaughter. Even in the earlier caliphate there were enormous difficulties in the way of the execution of a Moslem who had not shed innocent blood. Apart from the talio the official[292] infliction of capital punishment was hardly possible, for as long as Arab sentiment survived, the people could not grasp the distinction between an executioner and a murderer. A change did not take place until with the accession of the Abbasids the Iranians took the reins of government from the Arabs and brought with them Iranian conceptions of state and law.

On the other hand, the Hebrews, near kinsmen of the Arabs, arrived at just conceptions of capital crime and capital punishment fifteen hundred years earlier than they. According to the Hebrew view, the guilt of sin, which is held to be an offence against the Deity, weighs upon the whole community, until the actual perpetrator of the crime is extirpated or purged out of its midst. The sentence of death is carried out by the whole community and takes the form of stoning, its characteristic features being that every man of the congregation takes part in it and casts his stone. Murder and manslaughter, indeed, are not as yet classed among the offences against God, for which capital punishment at the hands of the community is due; bloodshed is in the main a private wrong still, and its punishment is left to the injured person. But it is not associated with blood-feud between clans, and the criminal is not protected by his family. Blood-revenge is tamed already and restricted by law to what we know as the talio. The shedder of blood is abandoned by his family, the heir and avenger may pursue and slay him. Should he take refuge in a sanctuary, he is safe if he has shed blood by mischance only. Otherwise the sanctuary affords him no protection. It is the right and duty of the community, represented by its elders, to drag him away from the altar and hand him over to the avenger. The act of slaughter is always left to the latter; the ceremonial infliction of capital punishment, execution by the congregation, is never the penalty assigned for murder or manslaughter. But the avenger is not allowed to take a ransom for the murderer or give him his life. For here the idea insinuates itself that bloodshed is not only a wrong and injury done to the individual, but a crime, that is to say an offence against God. The murderer has sinned also against the Deity, and his guilt lies upon the whole community, until they are rid of him.

Thus the religious obligation of the community, to wash away the blood shed within its borders, goes hand in hand with the individual obligation of vengeance. If the murderer cannot be discovered, vengeance is impossible; but a symbolical ceremony is substituted for the purification of the community, and the city within whose borders a man is found dead by an unknown hand must slay a cow in place of the murderer.

We see that among the Hebrews the ideas of crime and punishment had their root in religion; the crime is an offence against God, and its punishment is the purging of the community from this offence; execution is the only real punishment, and must be distinguished from talio on the one hand and mere chastisement on the other.

Among the Arabs the religious root of the penal law has withered away and nothing but human vengeance is left. This can hardly be the ancient conception. Vengeance itself is in its origin not a human passion merely, it is likewise a religious duty. True, this duty was originally believed to have been imposed, not by the Almighty, but by a demon. And this demon was the wrathful spirit of the murdered man himself, who would not let his clan rest until they had given him to drink the murderer’s blood for which he thirsted. We can still find traces of this belief among the Arabs. Amongst them the avenger of blood is under a solemn vow, exactly like the man who has to offer sacrifice or fulfil any other religious duty; he may[293] not wash nor comb his hair, nor drink wine, with many other prohibitions of the same kind. As he accomplishes the act of vengeance, he must call upon the name of him for whom he takes it, in a brief form of words; then he is free and returned from the state of sanctification and uncleanness to that of cleanness and common life; exactly like a sacrificer after he has made a sacrifice.

But these are petrified remains, as it were, of a motive that has no present potency. The poetry which has come down to us invariably speaks only of the ungovernable rage of the avenger, not of the person to be avenged; of burning pain in the breast of the survivor, which demands relief at any price; and of the shame which weighs him down as long as the murderer still treads the earth alive. Moreover—and this is a particularly striking point—religion has not retained any influence upon actual law amongst the ancient Arabs, apart, perhaps, from the process of inquiry by curse and oath.

Ancient Arab law is singularly profane, dry, and formless; it is throughout a matter of bargain and contract, for even the penal law operates only through compensation and payment.

Such, in brief outline, is the picture of the Arabic community, a community devoid of supreme authority and executive power. We are fond of calling it patriarchal, but what do we mean by the phrase? Of the amenities of family life we find no trace, nor any trace of patriarchal guardianship. Each man has to give his help, if anything is to be done. There is more scope in such a community for the display of courage, self-sacrifice, and brotherly kindness than in our own, where the state seems to work like a machine for which we have merely to provide the fuel. It is a pity, however, that so fair an opportunity is not put to the fullest use. In critical cases, the corporate feeling on which the whole system depends is often shown by but few. There are hitches and difficulties everywhere, though in the desert the conditions of life are very simple, narrow, and easy to understand, its interests very uniform. No progressive civilisation can develop in this fashion; the desert is enough in itself to render development difficult. These weak foundations will bear no aspiring superstructure. Not even individual liberty, as we understand it, reaps advantage from the absence of the coercion of the state. For if the sense of kinship be too weak to control the wicked and force the indolent to fulfil the duties incumbent upon them, yet it is strong enough to prevent the growth of intellectual freedom in circles that possess and exercise it. Such liberty can only thrive in a state which, like Noah’s ark, contains all kinds of animals and lets them do as they please, not in a society of kinsmen which lays a spell upon their members from within, though it can impose no coercion from without.

The communities of Europe started, as there are many evidences to show, from primitive conditions like those in which the Arabs of the desert have remained. It is well that we should bear this in mind, and so estimate, quantæ molis erat romanam condere gentem, what amount of labour was required to create a stable system of law, independent of the individual.

FOOTNOTES

---

[294]

CHAPTER XII. THE PRINCIPLES OF LAW IN ISLAM

Written Specially for the Present Work

By Dr. I. GOLDZIHER

Professor in the University of Vienna, etc.

In studying the lines along which Islam has developed we are confronted with a singular antithesis within the faith itself. It is the outcome of a revolutionary movement which arose to declare war against the past of the Arab nation and of all other nations which it subdued by the ruthless sword of Islam. Yet it had scarcely taken the first step in its career, before investing with little short of sacramental importance an idea so wholly alien to the spirit of subversion and revolution that it seems to us rather a palladium of the most rigid conservatism. This is the idea of the sunna.

Sunna means traditional usage, or custom hallowed by ancestral use, by practice transmitted through past generations. He who violates this custom trespasses against the Holy of holies, against something far above any article of a legal code drawn up with all the mature consideration and cool deliberation of the judicial mind; he had sinned against the pious reverence due to the days of old. This is the view which underlies the sanctity of the sunna. Translated into legal phraseology sunna might accordingly be denominated right by custom, but a better idea of its meaning may be gained by comparing it with the mores majorum or usus longævus of the Romans. For the determining factor in it is not its established character but the high esteem in which it has been held from remote antiquity.

All this (to return to the proposition from which we started) is little in accord with a system which originated with a prophet of revolution who could not say, as Jesus said of himself, that he was “not come to destroy but to fulfil”—at least, not as far as the traditional institutions of the Arabs were concerned. Mohammed does, indeed, represent himself as restoring what has been lost, as bringing back the golden age of religion to man, the rule of the din Ibrahim (the religion of Abraham) which had been lost by corruption and wickedness, and obscured by gross heathenism on its own native soil (for according to Mohammed the Kaaba at Mecca is the temple of Abraham and Ishmael). But it is not this pretension which will enable us to grasp the significance of the idea of the sunna in Islam.

[295]

Amazing as it may sound, and accustomed as we are to associate the idea of the sunna with the sheikhs who keep jealous watch over the holy places of Islam, sunna is not primarily an Islamite word, nor is the idea it expresses peculiar to Islam. It is deeply rooted in the ethical sentiment of the very heathenism which the prophet arose to overthrow. Sunna is an idea which Islam adopted from Arab heathenism, and which, in the change of meaning it underwent in this new sphere, became one of the main pillars of the new system.

The conception involved in the sunna, as defined at the beginning of this essay, represents the heathen Arab’s ideal of life and the primitive idea of laws and morals in tribal life. In this respect there was no difference between the two classes which went to make up the sum total of the Arab world, between the Bedouins and the dwellers in towns. The mores majorum were their law and their religion. The customs of their forefathers were their dogmas; the practices that had come down to them from the remote past were their sacraments. To infringe these was criminal sacrilege. If the cult of tribal fellowship and regard for the duties arising out of this association constitute the sum total of morality, how much more imperatively did the principle apply to the maintenance of a supersensual fellowship with the generations of the past.

Hence, in the persecution with which the world of Arab heathenism received his preaching, Mohammed was not confronted by opponents who defended the old state of things by arguments based on religion, or wielded the weapons of serious controversy to refute his doctrines. The heathen Arabs had but one argument against the message proclaimed to them by the visionary of Mecca—it was an innovation. He represents his heathen fellow-countrymen as putting forward this argument against himself in exactly the same manner as he represents the heathen nations of old as hurling it at their prophets. “If one saith to them, ‘Obey the laws which Allah sends you,’ then they say, ‘We follow the customs of our fathers.’ If one saith to them, ‘Come and adopt the religion which Allah hath revealed to his ambassador,’ they answer, ‘We are satisfied with the religion of our fathers.’ When the evil-doers commit an evil deed they say, ‘Thus we saw it done by our fathers, it is Allah who commands such things.’ But they say, ‘We found that our fathers were on this road and we tread in their steps.’ Speak and say—do I not proclaim to you a better thing than that whereat ye found your fathers?”

This plea, which constitutes, so to speak, the methodology of the struggle of the heathen against the prophet, is, as it were, a constant element that pervades all the laments of the Koran over the stubbornness of the heathen. They hate the prophet because he insults their forefathers, who were likewise his own. He is lacking in filial piety. And the touchstone of his error is his antagonistic attitude towards the remote past. To the heathen his idols are dear as “heritages from the worthies who have bequeathed this inheritance.”

Only a few decades elapsed before Islam had its own sunna. The element of antiquity in this case was, of course, a figment; it anticipated for its justification the generations yet to be born, who should look up to this new standard as to something hallowed by tradition. It had no warrant in the actual experience of successive generations which had already regarded it as inviolable.

The Koran, the oldest and most authoritative document of the Islamite movement, is not a book which offers to the believer a comprehensive body[296] of religious instruction sufficient to satisfy all inquiries. What it pre-eminently does is to predispose religious sentiment to the acceptance of the religion which arose on this foundation. Nor is it more complete if regarded as a statutory guide in questions of law, since it takes note of only a small and very limited department of juridical needs. What it does is to predispose ethical sentiment in favour of the new aspects in which social life and the legal relations it involves are to be considered.

While these sentiments gave precision to the form of these new standards, investing them with the character of divinely instituted laws, their substance drew its nourishment from alien sources, from new views, which were a consequence of the great career in history upon which the new Islamite community entered soon after it came into existence. Much fresh territory was conquered. It was impossible that contact with foreign elements should fail to implant fresh ideas in the Semitic mind, singularly receptive as it is—ideas which were destined to give its final shape to the faith of Islam with which its adherents had embarked on their conquering career.

Without the effect produced on the religious sentiment of Mohammedans by questions that arose under the influence of Greek philosophy, there would have been no formulated system of Mohammedan dogmatics, and in like manner the first impulse towards the creation of a Mohammedan system of law was given by contact with two great spheres of civilisation—the Romaic and the Persian, the former in Syria and the latter in Mesopotamia. It has already been remarked that the influence of Roman law on the sources of a legal system in Islam is attested by the very name given to jurisprudence in Islam from the beginning. It is called al Fikh, reasonableness; and those who pursue the study of it are designated Fukaha (singular Fakih). These terms, which, as we cannot fail to see, are Arabic translations of the Roman (juris) prudentia, and prudentes, would be a clear indication of one of the chief sources of Islamite jurisprudence, even if we had no positive data to prove that this influence extended both to questions of the principle of legal deduction and to particular legal provisions.

The positive laws of the Koran, and the few legal decisions made in particular cases by the first caliphs and other companions of the prophet at Medina in the early days of Islam, together with all the legal customs retained from heathen days, were inadequate to serve for the state of things brought about by the great conquests and immense expansion of the Moslem empire. Even if all elements which had previously and all which had come into being to meet the primary requirements of the new Mohammedan society had sufficed for an Arab commonwealth on an Islamite basis, the sum total of it all would nevertheless have been inadequate to the needs of the new political fabric of Islam in countries subject to entirely different economic and social conditions, and amidst conquered peoples whose lives were ordered on a systematic legal basis. When Islam subdued such ancient civilised peoples with the edge of the sword, it could not impose upon them the primitive conditions of life under which it had come forth into the wide world from the steppes and oases of Arabia. It could mould the results of the historic past into harmony with its own religious sentiment; but it could not destroy it, if for no other reason than that it had nothing to put in its place. Hence it had to leave many institutions in the conquered countries substantially as it found them. The problem first presented itself in Syria, the first halting-place of the victorious advance of Islam. The Koran and its earliest applications in practice made provision for family and matrimonial[297] rights and rights of succession, but proved worse than meagre when applied to the privileges attaching to landed property in a great agricultural state, or to the laws of contract and obligation which, in the countries conquered by Islam, were ordered by the fixed standards of Roman law. In this department the heads of the new government had to take over very many ordinances of Roman law.

But, even apart from the adoption of legal standards, Roman law exercised a notable influence upon the legal thought of the new intruders into a country whose jurists had been trained in the scientific jurisprudence of the school of Berytus. The influence exercised by the Roman legal methods on the system of legal deduction in Islam is a more important factor in the history of Moslem civilisation than even the direct adoption of particular points of law. By what systematic rules or what devices can deductions be drawn from positive laws, written or traditional, which shall apply to newly arising cases at law and to the decision of legal questions for which the positive written law provides no answer? In dealing with this juridical problem the Arab Fukha took their stand entirely upon the instruction they had gained from circles familiar with the work of Rome in the domain of law. The dualism of written law (Arabic, nazz) and unwritten law is a mere reflection of the dualism of leges scriptæ (chakhamim), and leges non scriptæ. Just so, about half a century before, the Jewish jurists (a word which in its legal application is likewise a translation of the Roman term jurisprudentes) had been moved by their intercourse with the Romans to make the hitherto unrecognised distinction between the tora she-bitche-thab, or written law, and the tora she-be’al-peh, or oral law.

The application of principles and rules borrowed from the methodology of Roman jurisprudence first made it possible to extend the limited legal material supplied by the Koran and the old decisions which were accepted as the basis of the law, to other departments of juridical activity, of which these authorities had had no prevision. The ratio legis (illa), the principle of presumption was applied to analogies (kyas) in words and things; nay, just as Roman legal practice gave great weight to the opinio prudentium in legal deduction, so the Islamite prudentes assumed the prerogative of an authoritative subjective opinio; for ra’j, as it is called in Arabic, is a literal translation of the Latin term. Of all these principles (which are not exhausted by the examples just cited) none more strikingly demonstrates the profound influence of Roman law on the development of legal opinion in Islam, than that which is known in Arabic as maclaha or istilah,—i.e., the public weal and regard for the same. The significance of this principle lies in the license it grants to the interpreter of the law to apply the legal standard in the manner best fitted to serve the public weal and interests. Here we recognise the Roman standard of the utilitas publica, which gives the interpreter of the law the right, by interpretation, an application to wrest a plain and unambiguous law into something quite different from its original meaning, in the interests of the public weal.

Such principles, derived from foreign instructors, served for the deduction of Mohammedan law, as soon as the teachers of the people felt the necessity of withdrawing the domain of law from the capricious action of the sovereign and his instruments in the administration and judicature, which had free play by reason of the meagreness of positive legal matter based upon generally recognised authority. The Islamite jurists declared that the conclusions at which they had arrived on the basis of these principles (which, as we have seen, were no part of Islam) were in harmony with the[298] true spirit of Islam, the rightful outcome of its original character. This phenomenon, which early came to maturity and was widely accepted in Mohammedan theological circles as legal and of indubitable authority, is of profound importance to our historic estimate and judgment of Islam. Whatever the ignorant men who stood by its cradle may have thought to be the meaning of the new word which they were charged to proclaim to the oriental world, the first step which conquering Islam took on its victorious career taught it to accommodate itself to an alien spirit, and to mould its own intellectual heritage by influences which seem absolutely heterogeneous to a superficial observer.

In more than one point of its doctrinal fabric, Islam in its early days was a borrower. Its founders were anxious, it is true, to avoid the appearance of appropriating other men’s property. But loudly as they trumpet the principle, “Be different from them in all things” (Chalifuhum) the reference here being chiefly to Jews and Christians, their documents are crammed with borrowings from the Scriptures of the very confessions which, on their own assertion, it was their leading principle to oppose. The stubborn antagonism of Islam to the rest of the world, its inflexible protest against the influence of foreign elements, is an illusion which historical study of the movement must dissipate if it is to rise to a scientific comprehension of this great historic phenomenon.

Though contact with the Romæi was the influence which caused the first seeds of law in Islam to germinate, we must not overlook another side upon which Islam in its early days came into direct contact with a foreign national element, the influence of which was very important in the development of its legal system. We refer to its contact with the people and the religion of Persia. This can be traced back to pre-Islamite times, and even Mohammed himself was not absolutely free from the influence of the religious ideas of the Parsees (madjus, magians), whom he classes in the Koran with Jews and Christians, and contrasts with the heathen as confessors of more favoured religions.

But Persian nationality did not become a formative element in Islam until the latter subjugated the geographical sphere of the old Parsee religion, and by the right of conquest imposed the faith of the prophet of Mecca and Medina upon the followers of Zoroaster. The Mohammedan occupation of ’Irak is one of the most telling factors in the religious and juridical development of Islam.

Persian theologians carried their inherited views into the new religion they had adopted, the conquering power enriched the poverty of its own religious store with elements supplied by the experience of a profound religious life, such had been a native growth among the conquered Persians from of old. Hence it is hardly possible to overestimate the importance of the part played in the development of Islam by the spiritual movement which came to birth in ’Irak and is associated with the schools of Bacra and Kufa. In analysing the elements of which Islam is composed we are not surprised to find many of Persian origin, the outcome of this connection.[43]

These influences are brought into fullest play by the great revolution which befel the Moslem empire in about the hundred and twenty-eighth year of its existence—the fall of the Omayyads and the usurpation of the sceptre of the caliphs by the Abbasids. The worldly spirit which had guided the[299] policy of the fallen dynasty—a spirit genuinely Arab, devoid of any real comprehension of the religious aims and the transcendental interests of Islam—now makes way for a theocratic bias, which drew its ideas in the main from the character of the Persian “divine monarchy.” It is the Sassanid spirit in an Islamite garb. The indifferentism of the ruling powers gives place to the encouragement of religious tendencies. The religious tolerance of earlier days is at an end. Sectarianism, pietism, harsh dogmatism, and, linked with them, the persecuting spirit—are the dominant notes of public life. Disputations concerning matters of religion impress their characteristic stamp upon the intellectual tendencies which find favour in high places. Opposing religious parties come into the field and frame their subtlest arguments.

Moreover, this was the opportune moment for working up into practical juridical systems the suggestions in the department of jurisprudence derived in earlier days from Roman law. In the second century of the Hegira, Islamite jurisprudence enters upon the classic period of its efflorescence and completion. The scene of its glory is the scholarly world of Mesopotamia, which sheds its rays upon every quarter of the Mohammedan empire. Even such advances in the sphere of law as come to light outside this birthplace of systematised jurisprudence are the fruit of the intellectual movement on the soil of the ancient empire of Persia. And even the demonstrations of antagonism to the aspirations which took shape there (for it aroused tremendous opposition) are affected by its influence.

Abu Hanifa (699-767) of Kufa, the grandson of a Persian, is recognised in Islam as the father of that jurisprudence which, by the employment of the free speculative method already described, found ways and means to make provision for the whole vast sphere of legal activity (which includes both law and religious ceremonial) out of the scanty stock of positive legal documents. This completion of the legal system of Islam was arrived at by laborious development along the lines of its main principles, by modification of the method evolved in some particular school, by open contravention of the fundamental ideas of some particular tendency, and, lastly, by deliberate compromise between antagonistic lines of thought. It was reached with a rapidity which is characteristic of all the intellectual creations of Islam. It is a singular feature of the whole literature of Islam that everything reaches its prime with amazing rapidity, only to decline as rapidly. In the fourth century of the Hegira every branch of Arabic literature had come to full maturity, to flourish for a brief while, and enter upon its period of decadence about the beginning of the sixth.

By the end of the third century (ninth century A.D.) jurisprudence had reached its classic prime. Leaving out of account some other heads of schools who soon retire from the scene, there are four men in particular to whom it does honour as to its founders and fathers, four men whose disciples represent the main currents which flow side by side through the construction of Islamite law: (1) Abu Hanifa (died 767), the true representative of the ’Irak method; (2) Malik b. Anas (died 795), the most celebrated imam in the prophet’s city of Medina; (3) Mohammed b. Idris al-Shafii, a pupil of the latter (died 820), most famous for his educational work in Egypt, where his sepulchral chapel (in the Karafa at Cairo) is reverenced by the natives as a place of pilgrimage; and (4) Akhmed b. Hanbal (died 855), the pious teacher of Baghdad, the principal champion and valiant apostle of the old conservative views in religion, whose tomb in the Harbiah graveyard at Baghdad has, in the phrase of Guy l’Estrange, the writer of the monograph on the ancient city of the caliphs, “become the object of a devotion savouring of idolatry.”

[300]

The views which have been enumerated, borrowed from the method of legal deduction in Roman law, were not employed to the same extent by all schools of jurisprudence. While in that of Abu Hanifa the validity of the opinio goes so far as to accord recognition to the personal inclination of the administrator of the law, other schools were not disposed to give such free scope to the subjective judgment. The principle of istiçhab (præsumptio) was most fully recognised in the school of Shafii; that of regard for the public weal (istiçlah) in that of Malik.

In the erudite world which busied itself with the theoretical exposition of the law there were, however, large bodies of scholars, who took up their parable to proclaim that, generally speaking and on principle, they could not profess to recognise principles of method which depended for their authority on the subjective work of the human reason. They would recognise two things only as the sole basis of legal deduction—Scripture and tradition; that is to say, the Koran and the traditions or positive decisions of the prophet, his companions and their successors, of whom it could be safely assumed that they had acted and given judgment in the spirit of the founder of the faith. Only in cases of extreme necessity, and when these authoritative sources obstinately refused to yield an answer, was it lawful to admit the authority of ra’j (opinio), or more particularly, of kiga (analogy). These latter were “like the vulture, the eating of which was permitted as an exception in time of dearth when other food could by no means be obtained.” Under normal circumstances it was not permissible to reason; the only right course was to abide by the letter of tradition, since nothing outside of that could be set on a par with it. Truth manifests itself not in answer to the question “What is reasonable?” but in answer to “What did the prophet say and how did he act?”

Here we find ourselves face to face with the idea of the sunna which had come down from the Arabs of old (the idea explained at the beginning of this article), in its most rigid form, but with this difference—that the sunna, as now understood, does not look back to a remote antiquity but to a very recent past. The genuine sunnist only feels solid ground beneath his feet when he can base his judgment and conduct on the authentic text, or on well-accredited tradition concerning the words and deeds of the earliest authorities recognised by the Islamite world. Of all the four schools, the Hanoblalite, the one founded by the youngest teacher, was that in which this rigid view found most favour. In modern times it has been brought into prominence as a principle of government by the puritanical state of the Wahabees, the “Tempelstürmer von Hocharabien,” as they are called by Karl von Vincenti in a historical novel in which he describes their proceedings.

It is, however, an easy thing to say, “Tradition and nothing but tradition!” But what if, with the best will in the world, no answer can be wrung from tradition to the most pressing questions of ordinary life? The judge must give judgment; the shepherd of souls must lay down rules for his flock on questions which hourly crop up for decision in a state of life ordered by religious laws in even the most trifling details; and in doubtful cases the mufti must be able to expound the meaning of the divine law with no uncertain voice. What, then, if Scripture and tradition be dumb, and no effort can draw forth the least enlightenment from them? Where all the sources of tradition ran dry, men had to make concessions, whether they would or not, to individual opinion and the right of speculative interpretation. This led to the rise of a school of thought which endeavoured to reconcile the two sharply antagonistic tendencies. It was absolutely necessary[301] to discover a middle course between excessive subjectivism and rigid traditionalism, and to define accurately the juridical spheres of the two conflicting elements. It was necessary to discover rules, in accordance with which speculative methods might be used to supplement tradition in the work of legal deduction, and to set up standards for the right use of traditional data in the correct formulation of the law. This work of reconciliation was done by the founder of the second school on the list, at Shafii.

Moreover there was another point of view from which the systemisation of the use of speculation as a source of law on the one hand and of tradition on the other proved an imperative necessity. If, in the one case, it was requisite to curb the arbitrary exercise of the subjective reason, it was no less necessary to check the rank growth of traditional matter, which, as it increased, hampered more and more the use of authentic tradition. The one-sided partisans of the sunna needed traditional matter for the establishment of such a legal system as they desired to see. Nor was any refutation of their theses, nor any opinion advanced against them, in their eyes worth discussing unless it could appeal to the authority of tradition. As a result, where no traditional matter was to be had, men speedily began to fabricate it. The greater the demand, the busier was invention with the manufacture of apocryphal traditions in support of the respective theses.

For the verification of didactic records, whether sacred or profane, Islam has adopted a singular form, which imparts to Islamite tradition a character altogether peculiar to itself, to which we can find no parallel (at least in such a mature and consistent shape) in any other literature. This is the hadith. The word hadith means simply communication, or narrative. If any such narrative is to be put forth with pretensions to authenticity the actual text must be preceded by what is called the sanad or isnad (literally, ‘support’). This enumerates in correct and unbroken sequence the authorities who have handed the narrative down from mouth to mouth, from the last person responsible for its circulation up to its original author. The examination of this sanad allows free and unbiased criticism the opportunity of judging whether these men on whose authority any particular narrative has been passed from mouth to mouth and from generation to generation, and set down as an actual occurrence, were persons deserving of full credit.

From this point of view an unbroken chain of oral tradition constitutes a surer and more valuable guarantee of authenticity than any written document, whether contemporary or based upon contemporary records. Even if a written document bears all the outward tokens of authenticity, it must be able to show a consistent sanad reaching in uninterrupted sequence from the first author to the last teller of the tale, if its claim is to be admitted. Every narrative and every matter of tradition, without regard to its quantitative or qualitative importance, must be set forth with its “genealogy.” This genealogy is the sanad. In theological matters, more particularly, it is the backbone without which no record can stand upright.

The literature of historic research also avails itself of this form of verification. Readers of the classic work of Muhammed Jarir al-Tabari, the “father of Islamite history” are familiar with this method of historic authentication. Each record takes the form of an appendage to a chain of tradition which reaches back to some direct authority, and to this chain the record is appended in the very words of the first narrator. It sometimes happens that a record of the same event occurs in narratives that are traced back to different authorities, and not merely in different words and with trifling variations. The facts themselves are represented in a totally different[302] fashion, or the narratives of different authorities set them or their accompanying circumstances in a different light. All these divergent narratives are simply placed side by side, in a manner which cannot be compared with the different authorities for the narratives of the Pentateuch; for, unlike the latter, the traditional records of Arab history are not anonymous. On the contrary, they owe their distinctive character to this circumstantial system of authentication and the enumeration by name of the successive vouchers for their truth. Again, they show no trace of an attempt on the part of any editor to reduce conflicting accounts to harmony; they are simply set side by side, instead of being welded together. This circumstance has greatly facilitated the critical study of the periods from which such parallel narratives date. Wellhausen has recently given to the world a masterly study, in which he skilfully discriminates between the various points of view, and the particular bias of each of the authorities for the narrative of the victory at Tabari (Skizzen und Vorarbeiten, VI).

The same state of things prevails in the statements of tradition in matters of law and religion. Each statement, cast into the traditional form, and relying for authentication in the first instance upon the testimony of an actual eye-witness, professes to show the practice of the prophet at certain times of prayer, or what judgment was given by him or his companions in certain legal questions. During the first century of Islamism divergencies of practice in minor details of law and worship had grown up in different congregations of believers. Every one of these divergent forms can appeal to the authority of a formal and well-attested traditional account, with a sanad in which the names of the most trustworthy witnesses are adduced in support of theses diametrically opposed to one another.

In order to obviate this incongruity, there soon developed in Islam a science of textual criticism, a study in which Islamite erudition outstripped that of Europe by several centuries. Its object was to decide the claims of the various authorities, to judge of the degree of credit to be given to each, to weigh the possibility that sectarian or party tendencies might have vitiated the bona fides of men otherwise above reproach. The climax of this work of criticism is to be found in certain systematised compilations of traditions, the editors of which start with the definite object of sifting what appears to them authentic out of the vast body of obviously spurious material. The most famous of these compilations are those of Buchari (died 870) and Muslim (died 875). The general consent of Islam presently invested these compilations with canonical authority.

Other works of the same kind were also held in great honour. In course of time other compilations from among those made in the ninth century were added to the first two, and in these the sifting of tradition was carried out upon the most liberal principles. From the thirteenth century onward, six codices have been recognised as the sources of authentic traditional records. Out of these theological science gathers the evidence of tradition in questions of law, and with the Koran, they constitute the canonical literature of Islam.

Judged by a scientific criterion, only a very small part, if any, of the contents of these canonical compilations can be confidently referred to the early period from which they profess to date. Minute study soon reveals the presence of the tendencies and aspirations of a later day, the working of a spirit which wrests the record in favour of one or other of the opposing theses in certain disputed questions.

What we gather from these traditional authorities is by no means a homogeneous system of instruction. The voice of thoroughly well-attested[303] tradition can be quoted in support of the most diverse, nay, of the most contradictory teachings on certain points of ritual and law. This is one of the principal causes of divergences of practice in minor details of religious usage and of the law. These differences, together with the vexed question of the use of the subjective factor in legal deduction, lie at the root of the controversies between the four great schools of law (the founders of which we have already enumerated) which occupy the whole field of orthodox Islam. These schools are in accord upon the great fundamental doctrines of religion, and the outward differences in practice are not regarded as elements of division. The Islamites consider them of equal validity, with equal claims to pass for orthodox.

Sunnite Islam early formulated and put into the mouth of Mohammed the doctrine that “Differences of opinion in my congregation are to be regarded as tokens of the mercy of God.” Like Lessing, the Islamites think that all trees cannot have the same bark. It is therefore a great error, and one which leads to a total misunderstanding of the whole character of Islam, to describe these four currents of thought, or madsahib, as the Mohammedans call them, as “sects,” or use such language as recently appeared in a widely circulated journal, which said: “We need only recall the question which resulted in a schism in Islam, as to whether ablutions should be begun at the elbow or at the wrist.” (Münchener Allgemeine Zeitung, Beilage No. 209, Sept. 12th, 1901.) The fact that these differences of ritual exist cannot be denied. But schisms take their rise from dogmatic and juridical questions of a far more radical character, and lie far beyond the sphere of the points in controversy between the four schools of the law.

On the other hand, in the present state of the Islamite world, orthodoxy is wholly confined to these four main schools of thought, which rank as the right and recognised modalities of correct religious usage and of the practical interpretation of the law. To borrow an image from philology, they and they alone are legitimate dialects of the one fundamental language of Islam. Quintum non datur. Zealous religious associations, which take their stand on the fundamental principles of Islam, yet cannot be classed in either of these four categories, are looked upon as dissenters of dubious character, although they themselves regard it as their one object in life to purify Islam and imbue it with fresh vigour. They are styled chums or chawamis, from a word meaning “fifth,” to mark their independence of the four parallel streams of orthodoxy. Such, for example, are the Senussis, a religious association in north Africa, whose proceedings are at present engaging the serious attention of the leaders of French colonial policy. They are not adherents of the school of Malik, which predominates in north Africa, and are therefore regarded as chawamis by the Moslem “high churchmen” of the locality.

One of the cardinal points of orthodox Islam in every sphere of religion and law is the “general consent and practice of the whole body of believers” (consensus ecclesiæ). The Arabic name for this mighty principle is ijma. The general consent of the whole body of believers on certain points of faith and law is of binding force, no less than Scripture and tradition. Nay, even the authority of all the primary sources of the Islamite religious system, as historically developed, derives its force from this consensus, which constitutes its principal title to recognition. The acceptance of such compilations of tradition as are received as canonical, and subsequently of the standard juridical codes, rests on no other legal basis than this general consent of the whole body of believers, by which they have been invested with[304] binding authority. This great principle—which, if any man fail to realise and rightly appreciate the development of Islam and Islamite institutions, must remain a sealed book to him—was in process of time defined as the doctrine accepted alike by all the four orthodox schools of thought. This definition of the idea of ijma is the result of the self-imposed limitation of the principle itself in practical application. In process of time it was found impossible to verify this general consent by any other method than by confining it to the well-defined sphere of the schools of the law. Thus this free intellectual outlook lost the vital force which might have made it an element of far-seeing and liberal development.

The recognition of the principle of the ijma as a fundamental element is a point on which all schools of orthodox Islam are at one. The schi’itic branch of Islam, however, has not adopted it as one of its fundamental doctrines. It takes its stand on blind obedience to authority. In its eyes the visible and invisible heads of the whole body of true Islamites are the successors of ’Ali, the infallible imams. They alone are the legitimate rulers of the faithful, both as the rightful chiefs of the state, and as the true organs of the divine will in matters of law and doctrine. To this sect every historical and political development of Islam, which derives its title to authority from the consensus, is a usurpation and an impiety which the last imam, the Mahdi who is yet to come, will bring to a terrible end. From their point of view the recognition of the consensus is mere error and heresy, and the sentiment and will of the whole body of believers is not entitled to be recognised as a criterion. In its stead they set the word of the infallible imams, the lawful successors of the prophet and the interpreters of his will, which is one with the divine will. Thus perishes the last remnant of the autonomous authority which the body of orthodox Islamites have assumed by the recognition of the principle of the consensus.

FOOTNOTES

[305]

---

BRIEF REFERENCE-LIST OF AUTHORITIES BY CHAPTERS

[The letter a is reserved for Editorial Matter.]

Chapter I. The Parthian Empire

b Justin, History of the World abridged from Trogus (translated by J. Turnbull).

c A. von Gutschmid, Geschichte Irans.

Chapter II. The Empire of the Sassanids

b Th. Nöldeke, Aufsätze zur persischen Geschichte.

c Dion Cassius, History of Rome.

d A. Von Gutschmid, op. cit.

Chapter III. Early History of the Arabs

b Herodotus, The History of.

c Artemidorus, Geographica.

d Diodorus, The Historical Library.

e Pliny, Historia Naturalis.

f Ammianus Marcellinus, History of Rome.

g Eratosthenes, Chronographia.

h The Holy Bible, according to the authorised version of King James I.

i Inscriptions of Tehutimes and Ramses I.

j Inscriptions of Tiglathpileser III, Sargon, Asshurbanapal, etc.

k Max Duncker, Geschichte des Alterthums.

l W. G. Palgrave, article on “Arabia” in the Encyclopædia Britannica.

Chapter IV. Mohammed

b L. A. Sédillot, Histoire générale des Arabes.

c The Koran.

d E. Gibbon, The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

e Sir William Muir, The Life of Mahomet.

f Georg Weber, Weltgeschichte.

g Ibn Saad, Sirat or Biography of Mohammed.

Chapter V. The Spread of Islam

b S. Ockley, History of the Saracens.

c El-Makin, History of.

d Abulfeda, Life of Mohammed.

e Gustav Weil, Mohammed der Prophet, sein Leben und seine Lehre.

f W. C. Taylor, The History of Mohammedanism and its Sects.

g E. Gibbon, op. cit.

h Abul-Faraj, Dynasties.

i Eutychius, Annales.

j H. H. Milman, Notes to Gibbon’s Rome.

k al-Latif, Historiæ Ægypti, Compendium Arabice et Latini.

l Joseph White, Ægyptiaca.

m Makrizi, Histoire des Sultans Mamlouks de l’Égypte.

n Ibn Khaldun, History of the Beginnings of Nations.

o Haji Khalfa, Takwim al-Tawarikh (“Revision of History”).

q J. A. St. Martin, various articles.

r Joseph von Hammer-Purgstall, History of the Assassins (translated from the German by O. C. Wood).

s A. L. Silvester de Sacy, various writings.

t F. A. Neale, Islamism.

Chapter VI. The Omayyads

b F. A. Neale, op. cit.

c Stanislas Guyard, article on “The Eastern Caliphate” in the Encyclopædia Britannica.

d G. Weber, op. cit.

[306]

Chapter VII. The Arabs in Europe

b “Ben-Hazil of Granada” in Bibliothèque Arabico-Hispanica.

c E. Gibbon, op. cit.

d S. A. Dunham, History of Spain and Portugal.

e R. Dozy, Essai sur l’histoire de l’Islamisme.

Chapter VIII. The Abbasids

b L. A. Sédillot, op. cit.

Chapter IX. The Decline of the Moslems in Spain

b Sampiro, Bishop of Astorga, in “Regno Ordonii II,” etc. (in Florez, España Sagrada).

c S. A. Dunham, op. cit.

d L. A. Sédillot, op. cit.

Chapter X. Arab Civilisation

b Simon Ockley, op. cit.

c R. Dozy, op. cit.

d Alexander von Humboldt, Cosmos.

e Girault de Prangey, Monuments Arabes et Mauresques.

f Eusebius of Cæsarea, Life of Constantine.

g L. A. Sédillot, op. cit.

j Hauréau, Philosophie scholastique.

k J. E. Montucla, Histoire des Mathématiques.

l J. S. Bailly, Histoire de l’astronomie.

m L. Viardot, Histoire des Arabes et des Maures d’Espagne.

n Kiesewetter, Die Musik der Araber.

---

[307]

PART XIII

THE HISTORY OF THE CRUSADES
AND OF THE PAPACY

BASED CHIEFLY UPON THE FOLLOWING AUTHORITIES

ABULFEDA, CHOISEUL D’AILLECOURT, BOHA AD-DIN, JAMES BRYCE,
WILLIAM DENTON, JOHN WM. DRAPER, EINHARD, EDWARD GIBBON,
J. C. L. GIESELER, HENRY HALLAM, HENRY C. LEA, J. F. MICHAUD,
CHARLES MILLS, H. H. MILMAN, J. L. VON MOSHEIM,
LEOPOLD VON RANKE, O. J. REICHEL,
GEOFFREY DE VILLEHARDOUIN

TOGETHER WITH A BRIEF STUDY OF

THE VALUE OF THE CRUSADES IN THE LIGHT OF
MODERN HISTORY

BY

THE REV. WILLIAM DENTON

WITH ADDITIONAL CITATIONS FROM

C. BARONIUS, PHILIPPE DE BEAUMANOIR, STEPHEN DE BOURBON, J. BURCARDUS,
P. A. BAMBINO, CIACCONIUS, F. B. CORBO, RICHARD DEVIZES, J. J. I.
DÖLLINGER, VICTOR DURUY, K. F. EICHORN, C. FLEURY, OTTO VON
FREISING, THOMAS FULLER, GREGORY OF TOURS, GREGORY THE
GREAT, RICHARD GARNETT, THOMAS GREENWOOD, G. W. F.
HEGEL, J. G. VON HERDER, IMAD AD-DIN, S.
INFESSIORA, INNOCENT THE THIRD, JEAN DE
JOINVILLE, A. JOURDAIN, CHARLES KINGSLEY, LIUTPRAND, ANSELMO DI
LUCCA, MAKRISI, MATTHEW OF PARIS, J. BASS MULLINGER, MURATORI,
GUIBERT DE NOGENT, B. PLATINA, MARTINUS POLONUS, ROGER OF
HOVEDEN, PAUL VON ROTH, MARIANUS SCOTUS, SIGEBERT
OF GEMBLOURS, CARL SPANNAGEL, HENRY STEBBING,
J. ADDINGTON SYMONDS, ANDREAS THIEL, GEOFFREY
DE VINSAUF, FR. WILKEN AND WILLIAM OF TYRE

[308]

Copyright, 1904,
By HENRY SMITH WILLIAMS.

All rights reserved.

---

[309]

THE HISTORY OF THE CRUSADES AND THE PAPACY

TABLE OF CONTENTS

	Page
BOOK I.—THE CRUSADES
Introductory Essay. The Value of the Crusades in the Light of Modern History. By the Rev. William Denton, M.A.	311
History in Outline of the Crusades	314
Chapter I. Origin of the Crusades	320
Chapter II. The First Crusade	338
Chapter III. The Second Crusade	358
Chapter IV. The Third Crusade	379
Chapter V. The Fourth to the Sixth Crusades	410
Chapter VI. The Last Crusades	431
Chapter VII. Consequences of the Crusades	467
Appendix A. Feudalism	481
Brief Reference-List of Authorities by Chapters	502
BOOK II.—THE PAPACY
History in Outline of the Papacy	503
Chapter I. Origin and Rise of the Papacy	519
Chapter II. “The Night of the Papacy,” Charlemagne to Otto the Great	555
Chapter III. The High Noon of the Papacy	589
Chapter IV. From Exile to Supremacy	623
Brief Reference-List of Authorities by Chapters	651

[310]

---

[311]

BOOK I. THE CRUSADES

PREFATORY ESSAY

THE VALUE OF THE CRUSADES IN THE LIGHT OF MODERN HISTORY

By the Rev. WILLIAM DENTON, M.A.[44]

The interest with which we continue to regard the Crusades is, in its way, as significant as the enthusiasm which led to their being undertaken. It is easy now to underrate the dangers which they averted, and to forget the obligations which the civilised world is under to Charles Martel, to the crusaders, to Don John of Austria, and to John Sobieski; yet to these men we owe it that Europe is not now Bulgaria; and that Italy, France, and England—that the whole of the countries from the Black Sea to the Atlantic, from Archangel to Sicily, are not trampled upon and desolated as Syria is at this moment. It is not easy for us to comprehend how recently the terror once inspired by the Turk has ceased. We need to be reminded that down to the time of the Stuarts the English and Irish channels were infested with Turkish corsairs, and our ports blockaded by Turkish ships of war in quest of slaves.

It is only indeed since the eighteenth century that collections of money to redeem English captives from the intolerable evils of Turkish slavery have ceased to be made in our churches. That such captivity is not national, and only occasional and individual, is one of the inestimable fruits of the Crusades. At the time when these were undertaken, the whole of Asia, from the borders of China to the Bosporus, was subject to the Turks; and had these people been able to cross into Europe, and to hold the countries on the south of the Danube as a basis for military operations four hundred years earlier than they succeeded in doing, or indeed at any time whilst the Moors of Spain and of Sicily were in their full career of victory, the whole of Europe would inevitably have fallen under the dominion of the Moslems, and industrial progress had been stayed and civilisation extinguished. So recently has this danger disappeared that, at the close of the seventeenth century, a statesman as calm and unenthusiastic as Richelieu seriously meditated the[312] renewal of the Crusades, in order to avert the evil which even then threatened to overwhelm the civilised world. That he did so is sufficient to remove from the leaders and projectors of the Crusades the charge of being moved by blind, unreflecting fanaticism.

In the eighteenth century, indeed, the school of historians represented by Voltaire and Gibbon, which discredited all great efforts of past times when prompted by religious zeal, treated the Crusades with unphilosophical ridicule. It was an easy task to do this. We are arrested in every page of their history with the lamentable consequences of popular ignorance, with the selfishness of many of the leaders, with the record of personal ambition and unworthy jealousy which too frequently hindered the success of these expeditions. The whole, however, is not heard when we have listened to accounts of popular fanaticism, of royal insincerity, of military ambition, and of papal selfishness, which chequer the history of the crusaders, as these faults chequered the history of Europe at the time when the Crusades were undertaken. The great, the imminent danger of Turkish conquest inspired the minds of the people with fear before it induced the chieftains to combine in averting the danger. The anarchy which pervaded Europe in the ages of feudalism was, indeed, the chief source of danger in any advance of the Turkish forces, and this was in a great measure cured by the enthusiasm communicated from the people to the great landed proprietors, who, more jealous of their independence than careful of their obligations to their sovereign, yet felt the necessity of union and of submission to military discipline in the hour of peril.

The First Crusade was one undertaken without sufficient leaders, with but little preparation, and with smaller knowledge of the countries to be traversed and the difficulties to be overcome. It was a spontaneous effort of terror and of zeal, in which we can at least satisfy ourselves of the reality of the fear which pervaded all men, and which we know to have been warranted by the merciless character of the horde which, having subjugated Asia, was on its way to attempt the subjugation of Europe. Men have come to see that the Turk is now what he always has been; it is well to bear in mind the correlative truth that essentially he always was what he is now; and when we recall the massacres of the last century, the bloody scenes of Scio and Aleppo, of Jiddah and of Lebanon, of Bosnia and Bulgaria, we may without effort understand what he was when Asia lay at his feet, and Europe was terrified at the rumours of his attempt to cross the Bosporus.

It is too much the practice of those who would deprecate our obligation to those who strove to arrest the progress of the Turks, to dwell upon some instances of magnanimity or of mercy, of justice or chivalrous conduct which lighten up the pages of the history of the Saracens, and to insinuate from these instances that the Turks possess the same claim to our admiration. The Turks, however, are not Arabs, neither have they ever manifested any of that care for intellectual pursuits which has thrown a lustre on the career of the Saracens of Asia and the Moors of the Spanish peninsula. On the contrary, the career of the Osmanli has been marked by deeds of savage atrocity, by an indifference to the obligations of oaths, as well as by his brutal ignorance and hatred of all intellectual progress; and at the present day his inferiority to the Arab in statesmanship, in honesty, and in intelligence is acknowledged.

In estimating the effects of the Crusades the reader will do well to consider the calm judgment and weighty words of a modern historian, who thus expresses our obligation to the devotion and bravery of those men[313] whose deeds are here briefly recorded. “By arresting the progress of the Turks,” says Mr. Sharon Turner, “by stunning them with blows which a less hardy, fanatic, and profuse population could not have survived, and by protracting their entry into Europe until its various states had grown up into compacted kingdoms—until the feudal system had been substantially overthrown; until free government and humanising law had blended and concentrated individual energy and self-will into national unity and co-operating strength; until polity had begun to be a science, and that order of men whom we both venerate and revile (statesmen and politicians) had everywhere arisen—the crusaders preserved Europe from Turkish desolation, if not from conquest. And when the Ottoman power, recovering from its alarms by their discontinuance, arose in renovated vigour to a new struggle for the sovereignty of Europe in the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries—though it conquered Greece, overran Hungary, Transylvania, Moldavia, and Wallachia, attempted Russia and Poland, and endangered Vienna—yet the rest of Europe had then become prepared to resist its further progress; and has hitherto successfully kept it at bay, notwithstanding its mighty population and desperate fanaticism, until its political infirmity has become decided, the period of its decrepitude arrived, and its political dissolution has commenced.”

Since these words were written the decrepitude of the Turks has increased, though their cruelty has not diminished; nay, in some instances, the periodical massacres of their Christian subjects, which have ever marked the rule of this race, have been carried out more systematically and with circumstances of greater horror than of old. We are, indeed, no longer alarmed at the progress of their arms, and have no fear for our own safety. We may gather, however, from the accounts of the suffering of the Christians dwelling in our own days among the Turks, how natural it was for Europe to be terrified at the prospect of their invasion; and from the generous indignation which thrilled the heart of England at the time of the Armenian massacres, we may faintly understand why it was that Europe was so moved at the rude eloquence of Peter the Hermit, as he detailed the sufferings of the Christians of Asia Minor when first subjected to the yoke of the Turk.

FOOTNOTES

---

[314]

HISTORY IN OUTLINE OF THE CRUSADES

Pilgrimages to Jerusalem, which were in use from the earliest ages of Christianity, had become very frequent about the beginning of the eleventh century. The opinion which then very generally prevailed, that the end of the world was at hand, induced vast numbers of Christians to sell their possessions in Europe, in order that they might set out for the Holy Land, there to await the coming of the Lord. So long as the Arabs were masters of Palestine, they protected these pilgrimages, from which they derived no small emoluments. But when the Seljukian Turks, a barbarous and ferocious people, had conquered that country (1075), under the caliphs of Egypt, the pilgrims saw themselves exposed to every kind of insult and oppression. The lamentable accounts which they gave of these outrages on their return to Europe excited the general indignation, and gave birth to the romantic notion of expelling these infidels from the Holy Land.

Gregory VII was the projector of this grand scheme. He addressed circular letters to all the sovereigns of Europe, and invited them to make a general crusade against the Turks. Meantime, however, more pressing interests, and his quarrels with the emperor Henry IV, obliged him to defer the projected enterprise; but his attention was soon recalled to it by the representation of a pilgrim, called Peter the Hermit, a native of Amiens in Picardy. Furnished with letters from the patriarch of Jerusalem to the pope and the princes of the West, this ardent fanatic traversed the whole of Italy, France, and Germany; preaching everywhere, and representing, in the liveliest colours, the profanation of the sacred places, and the miserable condition of the Christians and poor pilgrims in the Holy Land. It proved no difficult task for him to impart to others the fanaticism with which he was himself animated. His zeal was powerfully seconded by Pope Urban II, who repaired in person to France, where he convoked the council of Clermont (1095), and pronounced, in full assembly, a pathetic harangue, at the close of which they unanimously resolved on the Holy War. It was decreed that[315] all who should enrol their names in this sacred militia should wear a red cross on their right shoulder; that they should enjoy plenary indulgence, and obtain remission of all their sins.

From that time the pulpits of Europe resounded with exhortations to the Crusades. People of every rank and condition were seen flocking in crowds to assume the signal of the cross; and, in the following year, innumerable bands of crusaders, from the different countries of Europe, set out, one after another, on this expedition to the East. The only exception was the Germans, who partook but feebly of this universal enthusiasm, on account of the disputes which then subsisted between the emperor and the court of Rome. The three or four first divisions of the crusaders [comprising about 273,000 men, under the leadership of Peter the Hermit, Walter de Pexejo, and Walter the Penniless] marched without order and without discipline; pillaging, burning, and wasting the countries through which they passed. Most of them perished from fatigue, hunger, or sickness, or by the sword of the exasperated nations whose territories they had laid desolate. [The four thousand that crossed the Bosporus were annihilated by Kilidj Arslan, the sultan of Rum, or Iconium.] To these unwarlike and undisciplined troops succeeded regular armies, commanded by experienced officers, and powerful princes: the Crusades proper were inaugurated.[45]

FOOTNOTES

---

[320]

CHAPTER I. ORIGIN OF THE CRUSADES

The history of the Middle Ages presents no spectacle more imposing than the Crusades, in which are to be seen the nations of Asia and of Europe armed against each other, two religions contending for superiority, and disputing the empire of the world. After having been several times threatened by the Moslems, and a long time exposed to their invasions, all at once the West arouses itself, and appears, according to the expression of a Greek historian (Anna Comnena), to tear itself from its foundation, in order to precipitate itself upon Asia. All nations abandon their interests and their rivalries, and see upon the face of the earth but one single country worthy of the ambition of conquerors. One would believe that there no longer exists in the universe any other city but Jerusalem, or any other habitable spot of earth but that which contains the tomb of Jesus Christ. All the roads which lead to the Holy City are deluged with blood, and present nothing but the scattered spoils and wrecks of empires.

In this general confusion we may contemplate the sublimest virtues mixed with all the disorders of the wildest passions. The Christian soldiers have at the same time to contend against famine, the influence of climate, and enemies the most formidable; in the greatest dangers, in the midst of their successes and their constant discords, nothing can exhaust either their perseverance or their resignation. After four years of fatigue, of miseries, and of victories, Jerusalem is taken by the crusaders; but as their conquests are not the work of wisdom and prudence, but the fruit of blind enthusiasm and ill-directed heroism, they create nothing but a transient power.

The banner of the cross soon passes from the hands of Godfrey de Bouillon into those of his weak and imbecile successors. Jerusalem, now a Christian city, is obliged again to apply for succour to the West. At the[321] voice of St. Bernard, the Christians take arms. Conducted by an emperor of Germany and a king of France, they fly to the defence of the Holy Land; but they have no longer great captains among them, they have none of the magnanimity or heroic resignation of their fathers. Asia, which beholds their coming without terror, already presents a new spectacle. The disciples of Mohammed awaken from their apathy; they are at once seized with a frenzy equal to that which had armed their enemies; they oppose enthusiasm to enthusiasm, fanaticism to fanaticism, and in their turn burn with a desire to shed their blood in a religious war.

The spirit of discord which had destroyed their power is no longer felt but among the Christians. Luxury and the manners of the East weaken the courage of the defenders of the cross, and make them forget the object even of the holy war. Jerusalem, which had cost the crusaders so much blood, falls again into the power of the infidels, and becomes the conquest of a wise and warlike prince, who had united under his banner the forces of Syria and Egypt.

The genius and fortune of Saladin inflict a mortal blow upon the ill-assured power of the Christians in the East. In vain an emperor of the West, and two kings celebrated for their bravery, place themselves at the head of the whole powers of their states to deliver Palestine; these new armies of crusaders meet everywhere with brave enemies and invincible barriers, and all their united efforts produce nothing but illustrious disasters. The kingdom of Jerusalem, for whose ruins they contend, is no longer anything but a vain name; soon even the captivity and the miseries of the Holy City cease to inspire the sentiments of piety and enthusiasm that they had given birth to among the Christians. The crusaders, who had taken up arms for its deliverance, suffer themselves to be seduced by the wealth of Greece, and stop short to undertake the conquest of Constantinople.

From that time the spirit of the crusaders begins to change; whilst a small number of Christians still shed their blood for the deliverance of the tomb of Jesus Christ, the princes and the knights are deaf to everything but the voice of ambition. The popes complete the corruption of the true spirit of the crusaders, by urging them on, by their preaching, against other Christian people, and against their own personal enemies. The holy wars then degenerate into civil wars, in which both religion and humanity are outraged.

These abuses of the Crusades, and the dire passions which had mixed themselves with them, plunge Europe in disorder and anarchy; when a pious king undertakes once more to arm the powers of the West against the infidels, and to revive among the crusaders the spirit which had animated the companions of Godfrey. The two wars directed by this pious chief are more unfortunate than all the others. In the first, the world is presented with the spectacle of a captive army and a king in fetters; in the second, that of a powerful monarch dying in its ashes. Then it is that the illusion disappears, and Jerusalem ceases to attract all the attention of the West.

Soon after, the face of Europe is changed; intelligence dissipates barbarism; the Crusades no longer excite the same degree of enthusiasm, and the first effect of the civilisation it begins to spread is to weaken the spirit of the fanaticism which had given them birth. Some few useless efforts are at times made to rekindle the fire which had burned so fiercely in Europe and Asia. The nations are so completely recovered from the pious delirium of the Crusades, that when Germany finds itself menaced by the Mussulmans who are masters of Constantinople the banner of the cross can with difficulty gather an army around it; and Europe, which had risen in a mass to attack[322] the infidels in Asia, opposes but a feeble resistance to them on its own territories.

Such is, in a few words, the picture of the events and revolutions which the historian of the Crusades has to describe.

We do not now require much sagacity to discover in our ancient chronicles what is fabulous and what is not. A far more difficult thing is to reconcile, upon some points, the frequent contradictory assertions of the Latins, the Greeks, and the Saracens, and to separate, in the history of the Crusades, that which belongs to religious fanaticism, to policy, or to human passions.

In an age in which some value is set upon an opinion of the Crusades, it will be first asked if the wars of the Crusades were just. Upon this head we have but little to answer. Whilst the crusaders believed that they were obeying God himself by attacking the Saracens in the East, the latter, who had invaded a part of Asia possessed by Christian people, who had got possession of Spain, who threatened Constantinople, the coasts of Italy, and several countries of the West, did not reproach their enemies with making an unjust war, and left to fortune and victory the care of deciding a question almost always useless.

We shall think it of more importance here to examine what was the cause and the nature of these remote wars, and what has proved to be their influence on civilisation. The Crusades were produced by the religious and military spirit which prevailed in Europe during the Middle Ages. The love of arms and religious fervour were two dominant passions which, mingling in some way, lent each other a mutual energy. These two great principles, united and acting together, gave birth to the holy war; and carried, among the crusaders, valour, resignation, and heroism of character to the highest degree of eminence. Some writers have seen nothing in these great expeditions but the most deplorable excesses, without any advantage to the ages that succeeded them; others, on the contrary, maintain that we owe to them all the benefits of civilisation. It is not, at present, our business to examine these two conflicting opinions. Without believing that the holy wars have done either all the good or all the harm that is attributed to them, it must be admitted that they were a source of bitter sorrow to the generations that saw them or took part in them; but, like the ills and tempests of human life, which render man better and often assist the progress of his reason, they have forwarded the experiences of nations; and it may be said that, after having for a time seriously agitated and shaken society, they have, in the end, much strengthened the foundations of it. This opinion, when stripped of all spirit of exaggeration or system, will perhaps appear the most reasonable.

EARLY CHRISTIAN PILGRIMAGES

From the earliest ages of the church, a custom had been practised of making pilgrimages to the Holy Land. Judea, full of religious remembrances, was still the promised land of the faithful; the blessings of heaven appeared to be in store for those who visited Calvary, the tomb of Jesus Christ, and renewed their baptism in the waters of the Jordan. Under the reign of Constantine, the ardour for pilgrimages increased among the faithful; they flocked from all the provinces of the empire to worship Jesus Christ upon his own tomb, and to trace the steps of their God in that city which had but just resumed its name, and which the piety of an emperor had caused to issue from its ruins. The Holy Sepulchre presented itself to[323] the eyes of the pilgrims surrounded by a magnificence which redoubled their veneration. An obscure cavern had become a marble temple, paved with precious stones and decorated with splendid colonnades. To the east of the Holy Sepulchre appeared the church of the Resurrection, in which they could admire the riches of Asia, mingled with the arts of Greece and Rome. Constantine celebrated the thirty-first year of his reign by the inauguration of this church, and thousands of Christians came, on occasion of this solemnity, to listen to the panegyric of Christ from the lips of the learned and holy bishop Eusebius.

St. Helena, the mother of the emperor, repaired to Jerusalem, at a very advanced age, and caused churches and chapels to be built upon Mount Tabor, in the city of Nazareth, and in the greater part of the places which Christ had sanctified by his presence and his miracles. From this period, pilgrimages to the Holy Land became much more frequent. The pilgrims, no longer in dread of the persecutions of the pagans, could now give themselves up, without fear, to the fervour of their devotion; the Roman eagles, ornamented with the cross of Jesus Christ, protected them on their march; they everywhere trampled under foot the fragments of idols, and they travelled amidst the abodes of their fellow-Christians.

When the emperor Julian, in order to weaken the authority of the prophecies, undertook to rebuild the temple of the Jews, numerous were the prodigies related by which God confounded his designs, and Jerusalem, for that attempt even, became more dear to the disciples of Jesus Christ. The Christians did not cease to visit Palestine. St. Jerome, who, towards the end of the fourth century, had retired to Bethlehem, informs us in one of his letters that pilgrims arrived in crowds in Judea, and that around the holy tomb the praises of the Son of God were to be heard, uttered in many languages. From this period, pilgrimages to the Holy Land were so numerous that several doctors and fathers of the church thought it their duty to point out the abuses and danger of the practice. They told Christians that long voyages might turn them aside from the path of salvation; that their God was not confined to one city; that Jesus Christ was everywhere where faith and good works were to be found; but such was the blind zeal which then drew the Christians towards Jerusalem that the voice of the holy doctors was scarcely heard. As soon as the people of the West became converted to Christianity, they turned their eyes to the East. From the depths of Gaul, from the forests of Germany, from all the countries of Europe, new Christians were to be seen hastening to visit the cradle of the faith they had embraced.

When the world was ravaged by the Goths, the Huns, and the Vandals, pilgrimages to the Holy Land were not at all interrupted. Pious travellers[324] were protected by the hospitable virtues of the barbarians, who began to respect the cross of Christ, and sometimes even followed the pilgrims to Jerusalem. In these times of trouble and desolation, a poor pilgrim who bore his scrip and staff often passed through fields of carnage, and travelled without fear amidst armies which threatened the empires of the East and the West.

Illustrious families of Rome came to seek an asylum at Jerusalem, and upon the tomb of Jesus Christ. Christians then found, on the banks of the Jordan, that peace which seemed to be banished from the rest of the world. This peace, which lasted several centuries, was not troubled before the reign of Heraclius. Under this reign, the armies of Chosroes, king of Persia, invaded Syria, Palestine, and Egypt; the Holy City fell into the hands of the worshippers of fire; the conquerors bore away into captivity vast numbers of Christians, and profaned the churches of Jesus Christ. All the faithful deplored the misfortunes of Jerusalem, and shed tears when they learned that the king of Persia had carried off, among the spoils of the vanquished, the cross of the Saviour, which had been preserved in the church of the Resurrection. Heraclius, after ten years of reverses, triumphed, and brought back to Jerusalem the Christians whose chains he had broken. Then was to be seen an emperor of the East, walking barefooted in the streets of the Holy City, carrying on his shoulders to the summit of Calvary the wood of the true cross, which he considered the most glorious trophy of his victories.

But the joy of the faithful was not of long duration. Towards the beginning of the seventh century there had arisen, in an obscure corner of Asia, a new religion, opposed to all others which preached dominion and war. Mohammed had promised the conquest of the world to his disciples, who had issued almost naked from the deserts of Arabia. By his passionate doctrine he was able to inflame the imagination of the Arabs, and on the field of battle knew how to inspire them with his own impetuous courage. His first successes, which must have greatly exceeded his hopes, were like so many miracles, increasing the confidence of his partisans and carrying conviction to the minds of the weak and wavering. After the death of the prophet of Mecca, his lieutenants and the companions of his first exploits carried on his great work.

JERUSALEM UNDER THE SARACENS

Amidst the first conquests of the Saracens, they had turned their eyes towards Jerusalem. According to the faith of the Moslems, Mohammed had been in the city of David and Solomon; it was from Jerusalem that he set out to ascend into heaven in his nocturnal voyage. The Saracens considered Jerusalem as the house of God, as the city of saints and miracles. The Christians had the grief of seeing the church of the Holy Sepulchre profaned by the presence of the chief of the infidels. Although Omar had left them the exercise of their worship, they were obliged to conceal their crosses and their sacred books. The caliph ordered a mosque to be erected on the spot whereon the temple of Solomon had been built. In the meantime, the presence of Omar, of whose moderation the East boasts, restrained the jealous fanaticism of the Moslems. After his death the faithful had much more to suffer; they were driven from their houses, insulted in their churches; the tribute which they had to pay to the new masters of Palestine[325] was increased, and they were forbidden to carry arms or to mount on horseback. A leathern girdle, which they were never allowed to be without, was the badge of their servitude; the conquerors would not permit the Christians to speak the Arab tongue, sacred to the disciples of the Koran; and the people who remained faithful to Jesus Christ had not liberty even to pronounce the name of the patriarch of Jerusalem, without the permission of the Saracens.

All these persecutions could not stop the crowd of Christians who repaired to Jerusalem, the sight of the Holy City sustaining their courage as it heightened their devotion. There were no evils, no outrages, that they could not support with resignation, when they remembered that Christ had been loaded with chains and had died upon the cross in the places they were about to visit. The Christians of Palestine, however, enjoyed some short intervals of security during the civil wars of the Mussulmans. The dynasty of the Omayyads, which had established the seat of the Moslem empire at Damascus, was always odious to the ever-formidable party of the Alids, and employed itself less in persecuting the Christians than in preserving its own precarious power. Merwan II, the last caliph of this house, was the most cruel towards the disciples of Christ; and when he, with all his family, sank under the power of his enemies, the Christians and the infidels united in thanks to heaven for having delivered the East from his tyranny.

The Abbasids, established in the city of Baghdad which they had founded, persecuted and tolerated the Christians by turns. The Christians, always living between the fear of persecution and the hope of a transient security, saw at last the prospect of happier days dawn upon them with the reign of Harun ar-Rashid, the greatest caliph of the race of Abbas. Under this reign the glory of Charlemagne, which had reached Asia, protected the churches of the East. His pious liberality relieved the indigence of the Christians of Alexandria, of Carthage, and Jerusalem. The two greatest princes of their age testified their mutual esteem by frequent embassies: they sent each other magnificent presents; and, in the friendly intercourse of two powerful monarchs, the East and the West exchanged the richest productions of their soil and their industry. There was no doubt policy in the marks of esteem which Harun lavished upon the most powerful of the princes of the West. He was making war against the emperors of Constantinople, and might justly fear that they would interest the bravest among Christian people in their cause. To take from the Franks every pretext for a religious war, which might make them embrace the cause of the Greeks, and draw them into Asia, the caliph neglected no opportunity of obtaining the friendship of Charlemagne; and caused the keys of the Holy City and of the Holy Sepulchre to be presented to him.

Whilst the Arabians of Africa were pursuing their conquests towards the West, whilst they took possession of Sicily, and Rome itself saw its suburbs and its churches of St. Peter and St. Paul invaded and pillaged by infidels, the servants of Jesus Christ prayed in peace within the walls of Jerusalem. To the desire of visiting the tomb of Jerusalem was joined the earnest wish to procure relics, which were then sought for with eagerness by the devotion of the faithful. All who returned from the East made it their glory to bring back to their country some precious remains of Christian antiquity, and above all the bones of holy martyrs, which constituted the ornament and the riches of their churches and upon which princes and kings swore to respect truth and justice. The productions of Asia likewise attracted the attention of the people of Europe.

[326]

In short, the Christians of Palestine and the Moslem provinces, the pilgrims and travellers who returned from the East, seemed no longer to have any persecutions to dread, when all at once new storms broke out in the East. The children of Harun soon shared the fate of the posterity of Charlemagne, and Asia, like the West, was plunged into the horrors of anarchy and civil war. The gigantic empire of the Abbasids crumbled away on all sides, and the world, according to the expression of an Arabian writer, was within the reach of him who would take possession of it. The Greeks then appeared to rouse themselves from their long supineness, and sought to take advantage of the divisions and the humiliation of the Saracens. Nicephorus Phocas took the field at the head of a powerful army, and recaptured Antioch from the Moslems. Deprived of the powerful stimulus of fanaticism, Nicephorus found among the Greeks more panegyrists than soldiers, and could not pursue his advantages against the Saracens. His triumphs were confined to the taking of Antioch, and only served to create a persecution against the Christians of Palestine.

Zimisces resolved to avenge the outrage inflicted upon religion and the empire. On all sides preparations were set on foot for a fresh war against the Saracens. The nations of the West were no strangers to this enterprise, which preceded, by more than a year, the first of the Crusades. After having defeated the Mussulmans on the banks of the Tigris, and forced the caliph of Baghdad to pay a tribute, Zimisces penetrated, almost without resistance, into Judea, took possession of Cæsarea, of Ptolemais, of Tiberias, Nazareth, and several other cities of the Holy Land.

After this first campaign, the Holy Land appeared to be on the eve of being delivered entirely from the yoke of the infidels, when the emperor died poisoned. His death at once put a stop to the execution of an enterprise of which he was the soul and the leader. The Christian nations had scarcely time to rejoice at the delivery of Jerusalem, when they learned that the Holy City had again fallen into the hands of the Fatimite caliphs, who, after the death of Zimisces, had invaded Syria and Palestine. Hakim, the third of the Fatimite caliphs, signalised his reign by all the excesses of fanaticism and outrage. Unfixed in his own projects, and wavering between two religions, he by turns protected and persecuted Christianity.

The inconstancy of Hakim, in a degree, mitigated the misfortunes of Jerusalem, and he had just granted liberty to the Christians to rebuild their churches, when he died by the hand of the assassin. His successor, guided by a wiser policy, tolerated both pilgrimages and the exercise of the Christian religion. The church of the Holy Sepulchre was not entirely rebuilt till thirty years after its destruction; but the spectacle of its ruins still inflamed the zeal and the devotion of the Christians. In the eleventh century the Latin church allowed pilgrimages to suffice instead of canonical penitences; sinners were condemned to quit their country for a time, and to lead a wandering life, after the example of Cain. There existed no crime that might not be expiated by the pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Even the weak and timid sex was not deterred by the perils of a long voyage.b

CHARACTER OF THE PILGRIMS

Though pilgrimages were generally considered acts of virtue, yet some of the leaders of the church accounted them useless and criminal. Gregory, bishop of Nyssa, in the fourth century, dissuades his flock from these journeys.[327] They were not conscientious obligations, he said, for in the description of persons whom Christ had promised to acknowledge in the next world the name of pilgrim could not be found. A migratory life was dangerous to virtue, particularly to the modesty of women.

The necessity of making a pilgrimage to Rome and other places was often urged by ladies, who did not wish to be mewed in the solitary gloom of a cloister, “chaunting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.” In the ninth century, a foreign bishop wrote to the archbishop of Canterbury, requesting, in very earnest terms, that English women of every rank and degree might be prohibited from pilgrimising to Rome. Their gallantries were notorious over all the continent. “Perpaucæ enim sunt civitates in Longobardia, vel in Francia, aut in Gallia, in qua non sit adultera vel meretrix generis Anglorum: quod scandalum est, et turpitudo totius ecclesiæ.” Muratori, Antiquitates Italiæ Med. Ævi, Dissert. 58, vol. V., p. 58. “There are few cities in Lombardy, in France, or in Gaul, in which there is not an English adultress or harlot, to the scandal and disgrace of the whole church.” Morality did not improve as the world grew older. The prioress in Chaucer, demure as she is, wears a bracelet on which was inscribed the sentence, “Amor vincit omnia.” The gallant monk, in the same pilgrimage, ties his hood with a true-lover’s knot.

Horror at spectacles of vice would diminish with familiarity, and the moral principle would gradually be destroyed. Malice, idolatry, poisoning, and bloodshed disgraced Jerusalem itself; and so dreadfully polluted was the city that, if any man wished to have a more than ordinary spiritual communication with Christ, he had better quit his earthly tabernacle at once than endeavour to enjoy it in places originally sacred, but which had been since defiled. Some years after the time of Gregory, a similar description of the depravity at Jerusalem was given by St. Jerome, and the Latin father commends a monk who, though a resident in Palestine, had but on one occasion travelled to the city. The opinions of these two venerable spiritual guides could not stem the torrent of popular religion. The coffers of the church were enriched by the sale of relics, and the dominion of the clergy became powerful in proportion to the growth of religious abuses and corruptions. Pilgrims from India, Ethiopia, Britannia, and Hibernia went to Jerusalem; and the tomb of Christ resounded with hymns in various languages. Bishops and teachers would have thought it a disgrace to their piety and learning if they had not adored their Saviour on the very spot where his cross had first shed the light of his Gospel.

The assertion, that “the coffers of the church were enriched by the sale of relics,” requires some observations; because the sale of one relic in particular encouraged the ardour of pilgrimages, and from the ardour the Crusades[328] arose. During the fourth century, Christendom was duped into the belief that the very cross on which Christ had suffered had been discovered in Jerusalem. The city’s bishop was the keeper of the treasure, but the faithful never offered their money in vain for a fragment of the holy wood. They listened with credulity to the assurance of their priests that a living virtue pervaded an inanimate and insensible substance, and that the cross permitted itself every day to be divided into several parts, and yet remained uninjured and entire. Thus Erasmus says, in his entertaining dialogue on pilgrimages, that “if the fragments of the cross were collected, enough would be found for the building of a ship.” It was publicly exhibited during the religious festivities of Easter, and Jerusalem was crowded with pious strangers to witness the solemn spectacle. But after four ages of perpetual distribution, the world was filled with relics, and superstition craved for a novel object. Accordingly, the Latin clergy of Palestine pretended that on the vigil of Easter, after the great lamps in the church of the Resurrection had been extinguished, they were relighted by God himself. People flocked from the West to the East in order to behold this act of the Divinity, and to catch some portion of a flame which had the marvellous property of healing all diseases, mental as well as bodily, if those who received it had faith.c

The inclination to acquire holiness by the journey to Jerusalem became at length so general that the troops of pilgrims alarmed by their numbers the countries through which they passed, and although they came not as soldiers they were designated “the armies of the Lord.” In the year 1054, Litbert, bishop of Cambray, set out for the Holy Land, followed by more than three thousand pilgrims from the provinces of Picardy and Flanders.

Ten years after, seven thousand Christians set out together from the banks of the Rhine. This numerous caravan, which was the forerunner of the Crusades, crossed Germany, Hungary, Bulgaria, and Thrace, and was welcomed at Constantinople by the emperor Constantine Ducas. After having visited the churches of Byzantium, the pilgrims of the West traversed Asia Minor and Syria without danger; but when they approached Jerusalem, the sight of their riches aroused the cupidity of the Bedouin Arabs, undisciplined hordes, who had neither country nor settled abode, and who had rendered themselves formidable in the civil wars of the East. The Arabs attacked the pilgrims of the West, and compelled them to sustain a siege in an abandoned village; and this was on a Good Friday. The emir of Ramala, informed by some fugitives, came happily to their rescue, delivered them from the death with which they were threatened, and permitted them to continue their journey. After having lost more than three thousand of their companions, they returned to Europe, to relate their tragical adventures, and the dangers of a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.

THE TURKS IN POWER

New perils and the most violent persecutions at this period threatened both the pilgrims of the West and the Christians of Palestine. Asia was once again about to change masters, and tremble beneath a fresh tyranny. During several centuries the rich countries of the East had been subject to continual invasions from the wild hordes of Tatary. The Turks, issuing from countries situated beyond the Oxus, had rendered themselves masters of Persia. Palestine yielded to the power of the Turks. The conquerors spared neither the Christians nor the children of Ali, whom[329] the caliph of Baghdad represented to be the enemies of God. The Egyptian garrison was massacred, and the mosques and the churches were delivered up to pillage. The Holy City was flooded with the blood of Christians and Mussulmans.

Other tribes of Turks, led by Suleiman, penetrated into Asia Minor. They took possession of all the provinces through which pilgrims were accustomed to pass on their way to Jerusalem. The standard of the prophet floated over the walls of Edessa, Iconium, Tarsus, and Antioch. Thousands of children had been circumcised. Everywhere the laws of the Koran took the place of those of the Evangelists and of Greece. The black or white tents of the Turks covered the plains and the mountains of Bithynia and Cappadocia, and their flocks pastured among the ruins of the monasteries and churches. The Greeks had never had to contend against more cruel and terrible enemies than the Turks. In the midst of revolutions and civil wars, the Greek Empire was hastening to its fall.

Whilst the empire of the East approached its fall and appeared sapped by time and corruption, the institutions of the West were in their infancy. The empire and the laws of Charlemagne no longer existed. Nations had no relations with each other; and mistaking their political interests, made wars without considering their consequences or their dangers, and concluded peace without being at all aware whether it was advantageous or not. Royal authority was nowhere sufficiently strong to arrest the progress of anarchy and the abuses of feudalism. At the same time that Europe was full of soldiers and covered with strong castles, the states themselves were without support against their enemies, and had not an army to defend them.

Ten years before the invasion of Asia Minor by the Turks, Michael Ducas, the successor of Romanus Diogenes, had implored the assistance of the pope and the princes of the West. He had promised to remove all the barriers which separated the Greek from the Roman church, if the Latins would take up arms against the infidels. Gregory VII then filled the chair of St. Peter. The hope of extending the religion and the empire of the holy see into the East made him receive kindly the humble supplications of Michael Ducas. Excited by his discourses, fifty thousand pilgrims agreed to follow Gregory to Constantinople, and thence to Syria; but the affairs of Europe suspended the execution of his projects.

Every day the power of the popes was augmented by the progress of Christianity, and by the ever-increasing influence of the Latin clergy. Rome was become a second time the capital of the world, and appeared to have resumed, under the monk Hildebrand, the empire it had enjoyed under the cæsars. Armed with the two-edged sword of Peter, Gregory loudly proclaimed that all the kingdoms of the earth were under the dominion of the holy see, and that his authority ought to be as universal as the church of which he was the head. These dangerous pretensions, fostered by the opinions of his age, engaged him immediately in violent disputes with the emperor of Germany. He desired also to dictate laws to France, Spain, Sweden, Poland, and England; and thinking of nothing but making himself acknowledged as the great arbiter of states, he launched his anathemas even against the throne of Constantinople, which he had undertaken to defend, and gave no more attention to the deliverance of Jerusalem.

After the death of Gregory, Victor III, although he pursued the policy of his predecessor and had to contend against the emperor of Germany and the party of the anti-pope Guibert (Clement III), did not neglect the opportunity of making war against the Mussulmans. The Saracens, inhabiting[330] Africa, disturbed the navigation of the Mediterranean, and threatened the coast of Italy. Victor invited the Christians to take arms, and promised them the remission of all their sins if they went to fight against the infidels. The inhabitants of Pisa, Genoa, and several other cities, urged by their zeal for religion and their desire to defend their commerce, equipped fleets, levied troops, and made a descent upon the coasts of Africa, where, if we are to believe the chronicles of the time, they cut in pieces an army of one hundred thousand Saracens.b

PETER THE HERMIT

The true story of the first Crusade is, as Kuglerd says, sufficiently marvellous. It was a vast awakening in which religion, adventure, and design forced the European peoples out of their narrow lines of life and brought the West and East again in contact, and it grows in strangeness as we trace the story in detail. But monkish, uncritical writings which record the vague traditions of that great uprising have not rested satisfied with the marvellous truth: they have added much that is legendary. Among the legends that have failed to stand the test of recent scholarship, is the famous one which made Peter the Hermit the originator of the first Crusade. We may now feel sure that it was not Peter but Urban II who set going the great impetus; but the legend of Peter the Hermit has grown into the story of the first Crusade, and won its place in history from the belief of centuries. The reader must, however, be aware, as he reads it, that we have no authentic account of Peter’s preaching before the Council of Clermont. He was probably one of the preachers who scattered the enthusiasm of that council in northeastern France. His preaching was likely limited to the land where he could be understood in the vernacular, and his real influence is rather to be estimated by the rabble that followed him and Walter the Penniless, to leave their bones by the Danube or Bosporus. So much prefaced, let us turn to the story.

As the legend runs, Peter, an obscure hermit, came from his retreat, and followed into Palestine the crowd of Christians who went to visit the holy places.a The sight of Jerusalem excited him much more than any of the other pilgrims, for it created in his ardent mind a thousand conflicting sentiments. In the city, which exhibited everywhere marks of the mercy and the anger of God, all objects inflamed his piety, irritated his devotion and his zeal, and filled him by turns with respect, terror, and indignation. After having followed his brethren to Calvary and the tomb of Christ he repaired to the patriarch of Jerusalem. The white hairs of Simeon, his venerable figure, and above all the persecution which he had undergone, bespoke the full confidence of Peter, and they wept together over the ills of the Christians. The patriarch resolved to implore, by his letters, the help of the pope and the princes of Europe, and the hermit swore to be the interpreter of the Christians of the East and to rouse the West to take arms for their deliverance.

After this interview, the enthusiasm of Peter knew no bounds; he was persuaded that heaven itself called upon him to avenge its cause. One day, whilst prostrated before the Holy Sepulchre, he believed that he heard the voice of Christ, which said to him: “Peter, arise! hasten to proclaim the tribulations of my people; it is time that my servants should receive help, and that the holy places should be delivered.” Full of the spirit of[331] these words, which sounded unceasingly in his ears, and charged with letters from the patriarch, he quitted Palestine, crossed the seas, landed on the coast of Italy, and hastened to cast himself at the feet of the pope. The chair of St. Peter was then occupied by Urban II, who had been the disciple and confidant of both Gregory and Victor. Urban embraced with ardour a project which had been entertained by his predecessors; he received Peter as a prophet, applauded his design, and bade him go forth and announce the approaching deliverance of Jerusalem.

Peter the Hermit traversed Italy, crossed the Alps, visited all parts of France, and the greatest portion of Europe, inflaming all hearts with the same zeal that consumed his own. He travelled mounted on a mule, with a crucifix in his hand, his feet bare, his head uncovered, his body girded with a thick cord, covered with a long frock, and a hermit’s hood of the coarsest stuff. The singularity of his appearance was a spectacle for the people, whilst the austerity of his manners, his charity, and the moral doctrines that he preached caused him to be revered as a saint wherever he went.

He went from city to city, from province to province, working upon the courage of some and upon the piety of others; sometimes haranguing from the pulpits of the churches, sometimes preaching in the high-roads or public places. His eloquence was animated and impressive, and filled with those vehement apostrophes which produce such effects upon an uncultivated multitude. He described the profanation of the holy places, and the blood of the Christians shed in torrents in the streets of Jerusalem. He invoked, by turns, heaven, the saints, the angels, whom he called upon to bear witness to the truth of what he told them. He apostrophised Mount Zion, the rock of Calvary, and the Mount of Olives, which he made to resound with sobs and groans. When he had exhausted speech in painting the miseries of the faithful, he showed the spectators the crucifix which he carried with him; sometimes striking his breast and wounding his flesh, sometimes shedding torrents of tears. The people followed the steps of Peter in crowds. The preacher of the holy war was received everywhere as a messenger from God.

THE APPEAL OF THE EMPEROR ALEXIUS

In the midst of this general excitement, Alexius Comnenus, who was threatened by the Turks, sent ambassadors to the pope, to solicit the assistance of the Latins. “Without the prompt assistance of all the Christian states,” he wrote, “Constantinople must fall under the most frightful domination of the Turks.” He reminded the princes of Christianity of the holy relics preserved in Constantinople, and conjured them to save so sacred an assemblage of venerated objects from the profanation of the infidels. After having set forth the splendour and the riches of his capital, he exhorted the knights and barons to come and defend[332] them; he offered them his treasures as the reward of their valour, and painted in glowing colours the beauty of the Greek women, whose love would repay the exploits of his liberators. Thus, nothing was spared that could flatter the passions or arouse the enthusiasm of the warriors of the West.

COUNCILS OF PLACENTIA AND CLERMONT

In compliance with the prayers of Alexius and the wishes of the faithful, the sovereign pontiff convoked a council at Placentia, in order there to expose the dangers of the Greek and Latin churches in the East. The preachings of Peter had so prepared the minds and animated the zeal of the faithful, that more than two hundred bishops and archbishops, four thousand ecclesiastics, and thirty thousand of the laity obeyed the invitation of the holy see. The council was so numerous that it was obliged to be held in a plain in the neighbourhood of the city. The Council of Placentia, however, came to no determination upon the war against the infidels. The deliverance of the Holy Land was far from being the only object of this council: the declarations of the empress Adelaide, who came to reveal her own shame and that of her husband, anathemas against the emperor of Germany and the anti-pope Guibert, occupied, during several days, the attention of Urban and the assembled fathers.

A new council assembled at Clermont, in Auvergne. Before it gave up its attention to the holy war, the council at first considered the reform of the clergy and ecclesiastical discipline; and it then occupied itself in placing a restraint upon the license of wars among individuals. In these barbarous times even simple knights never thought of redressing their injuries by any other means than arms. It was not an uncommon thing to see families, for the slightest causes, commence a war against each other that would last during several generations; Europe was distracted with troubles occasioned by these hostilities. In the impotence of the laws and the governments, the church often exerted its salutary influence to restore tranquillity; several councils had placed their interdict upon private wars during four days of the week, and their decrees had invoked the vengeance of heaven against disturbers of the public peace. The Council of Clermont renewed the Truce of God, and threatened all who refused “to accept peace and justice” with the thunders of the church. One of its decrees placed widows, orphans, merchants, and labourers under the safeguard of religion. They declared, as they had already done in other councils, that the churches should be so many inviolable sanctuaries, and that crosses, even, placed upon the high-roads, should become points of refuge against violence.

Humanity and reason must applaud such salutary decrees; but the sovereign pontiff, although he presented himself as the defender of the sanctity of marriage, did not merit the same praises when he pronounced in this council an anathema against Philip I. But such was then the general infatuation, that no one was astonished that a king of France should be excommunicated in the very bosom of his own kingdom. The sentence of Urban could not divert attention from an object that seemed much more imposing, and the excommunication of Philip scarcely holds a place in the history of the Council of Clermont. The faithful, gathered from all the provinces, had but one single thought; they spoke of nothing but the evils the Christians endured in Palestine, and saw nothing but the war which was about to be declared against the infidels. Enthusiasm and fanaticism, which[333] always increase in large assemblies, were carried to their full height. Urban at length satisfied the impatience of the faithful—impatience which he, perhaps, had adroitly excited, and which was the surest guarantee of success.

The council held its tenth sitting in the great square or place of Clermont, which was soon filled by an immense crowd. Followed by his cardinals, the pope ascended a species of throne which had been prepared for him; at his side was Peter the Hermit, clad in that whimsical and uncouth garb which had everywhere drawn upon him the attention and the respect of the multitude. Urban, who spoke after Peter, represented, as he had done, the holy places as profaned by the domination of the infidels.

As Urban proceeded, the sentiments by which he was animated penetrated to the very souls of his auditors. When he spoke of the captivity and the misfortunes of Jerusalem, the whole assembly was dissolved in tears; when he described the tyranny and the perfidy of the infidels, the warriors who listened to him clutched their swords, and swore in their hearts to avenge the cause of the Christians. Urban redoubled their enthusiasm by announcing that God had chosen them to accomplish his designs, and exhorted them to turn those arms against the Moslems which they now bore in conflict against their brothers. They were not now called upon to revenge the injuries of men, but injuries offered to divinity; it was now not the conquest of a town or a castle that was offered to them as the reward of their valour, but the riches of Asia, the possession of a land in which, according to the promises of the Scriptures, flowed streams of milk and honey.

“Christian warriors,” he exclaimed, “who seek without end for vain pretexts for war, rejoice, for you have to-day found true ones. You who have been so often the terror of your fellow-citizens, go and fight against the barbarians, go and fight for the deliverance of the holy places; you who sell for vile pay the strength of your arms to the fury of others, armed with the sword of the Maccabees, go and merit an eternal reward. If you triumph over your enemies, the kingdoms of the East will be your heritage; if you are conquered, you will have the glory of dying in the very same place as Jesus Christ, and God will not forget that he shall have found you in his holy ranks. This is the moment to prove that you are animated by a true courage; this is the moment in which you may expiate so many violences committed in the bosom of peace, so many victories purchased at the expense of justice and humanity. If you must have blood, bathe your hands in the blood of the infidels. I speak to you with harshness, because my ministry obliges me to do so: soldiers of hell, become soldiers of the living God! When Jesus Christ summons you to his defence, let no base affections detain you in your homes; see nothing but the shame and the evils of the Christians; listen to nothing but the groans of Jerusalem, and remember well what the Lord has said to you: ‘He who loves his father and his mother more than me, is not worthy of me; whoever shall abandon his house, or his father, or his mother, or his wife, or his children, or his inheritance, for the sake of my name, shall be recompensed a hundredfold, and possess life eternal.’”

At these words the auditors of Urban displayed an enthusiasm that human eloquence had never before inspired. The assembly arose in one mass as one man, and answered him with a unanimous cry, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!”[46] Pity, indignation, despair, at the same time agitated the tumultuous assembly of the faithful; some shed tears over Jerusalem and the fate of the Christians; others swore to exterminate the[334] race of the Moslems; but, all at once, at a signal from the sovereign pontiff, the most profound silence prevailed. Cardinal Gregory, who afterwards occupied the chair of St. Peter under the name of Innocent II, pronounced, in a loud voice, a form of general confession, the assembly all fell upon their knees, beat their breasts, and received absolution for their sins. All the faithful decorated their garments with a red cross. From that time, all who engaged to combat the infidels were termed “bearers of the cross,”[47] and the holy war took the name of “Crusade.” The faithful solicited Urban to place himself at their head; but the pontiff, who had not yet triumphed over the anti-pope Guibert, who was dealing out at the same time his anathemas against the king of France and the emperor of Germany, could not quit Europe without compromising the power and the policy of the holy see. He refused to be chief of the crusade, and named the bishop of Puy apostolic legate with the army of the Christians.

THE FRENZY OF EUROPE

He promised to all who assumed the cross the entire remission of their sins. Their persons, their families, their property, were all placed under the protection of the church and of the apostles St. Peter and St. Paul. The council declared that every violence exercised upon the soldiers of Christ should be punished by anathema, and recommended its decrees in favour of the bearers of the cross to the watchful care of all bishops and priests. It regulated the discipline and the departure of those who had enrolled themselves in the holy ranks, and for fear reflection might deter any from leaving their homes, it threatened with excommunication all those who did not fulfil their vows.

It might be said that the French had no longer any other country than the Holy Land, and that to it they were bound to sacrifice their ease, their property, and their lives. This enthusiasm, which had no bounds, was not long in extending itself to the other Christian nations; the flame which consumed France was communicated to England, still disturbed by the recent conquest of the Normans; to Germany, troubled by the anathema[335] of Gregory and Urban; to Italy, agitated by its factions; to Spain, even, although it had to combat the Saracens on its own territory.

The devotion for pilgrimages, which had been increasing during several centuries, became a passion and an imperative want for most Christians; everyone was eager to march to Jerusalem, and to take part in the crusade, which was, in all respects, an armed pilgrimage. The situation in which Europe was then placed no doubt contributed to increase the number of pilgrims. “All things were in such disorder,” says William of Tyre, “that the world appeared to be approaching to its end, and was ready to fall again into the confusion of chaos.” Everywhere the people groaned under a horrible servitude; a frightful scarcity of provisions, which had during several years desolated France and the greater part of the kingdoms of the West, had given birth to all sorts of brigandage and violence; and these proving the destruction of agriculture and commerce increased still further the horrors of the famine. Villages, towns even, became void of inhabitants, and sank into ruins. The people abandoned a land which no longer nourished them, or could offer them either repose or security: the standard of the cross appeared to them a certain asylum against misery and oppression. According to the decrees of the Council of Clermont, the crusaders were freed from all imposts, and could not be pursued for debts during their voyage. At the name of the cross the very laws suspended their menaces, tyranny could not seek its victims, nor justice even the guilty, amidst those whom the church adopted for its defenders. The assurance of impunity, the hope of a better fate, the love of license, and a desire to shake off the most sacred ties, actuated a vast proportion of the multitude which flocked to the banners of the crusade.

Many nobles who had not at first taken the cross, and who saw their vassals set out, without having the power to prevent them, determined to follow them as military chiefs, in order to preserve some portion of their authority. It was known that two or three hundred Norman pilgrims had conquered Apulia and Sicily from the Saracens. The lands occupied by the infidels appeared to be heritages promised to knights whose whole wealth consisted in their birth, their valour, and their sword.

We should nevertheless deceive ourselves if we did not believe that religion was the principle which acted most powerfully upon the greater number of the crusaders. In ordinary times men follow their natural inclinations, and only obey the voice of their own interest; but in the times of the Crusades, religious fever was a blind passion which spoke louder than all others. Religion permitted not any other glory, any other felicity to be seen by its ardent defenders, but those which she presented to their heated imagination. Love of country, family ties, the most tender affections of the heart, were all sacrificed to the ideas and the opinions which then possessed the whole of Europe. Moderation was cowardice, indifference treason, opposition a sacrilegious interference. The power of the laws was reckoned as nothing amongst men who believed they were fighting in the cause of God. Subjects scarcely acknowledged the authority of princes or lords in anything which concerned the holy war; the master and the slave had no other title than that of Christian, no other duty to perform than that of defending his religion, sword in hand.

They whom age or condition appeared to detain in Europe, and whom the council had exempted from the labours and perils of the crusade, caused the heaven which called them to the holy war to speak aloud. Women and children imprinted crosses upon their delicate and weak limbs, to show the[336] will of God. Monks deserted the cloisters in which they had sworn to die, believing themselves led by a divine inspiration; hermits and anchorites issued from forests and deserts, and mingled with the crowd of crusaders. What is still more difficult to believe, thieves and robbers, quitting their secret retreats, came to confess their crimes, and promised, whilst receiving the cross, to go and expiate them in Palestine.

Europe appeared to be a land of exile, which everyone was eager to quit. Artisans, traders, labourers, abandoned the occupations by which they subsisted; barons and lords even renounced the domains of their fathers. The lands, the cities, the castles, for which they had but of late been at war, all at once lost their value in the eyes of their possessors, and were given up, for small sums, to those whom the grace of God had not touched, and who were not called to the happiness of visiting the holy places and conquering the East.

Contemporary authors relate several miracles which assisted in heating the minds of the multitude. Stars fell from the firmament; traces of blood were seen in the heavens; cities, armies, and knights decorated with the cross were pictured in the clouds. We will not relate all the other miracles reported by historians, which were believed in an age in which nothing was more common than prodigies, in which, according to the remark of Fleury, the taste for the wonderful prevailed greatly over that for the true. Our readers will find quite enough of extraordinary things in the description of so many great events for which the moral world, and even nature herself, seemed to have interrupted their laws. What prodigy, in fact, can more astonish the philosopher, than to see Europe, which may be said to have been agitated to its very foundations, move all at once, and like a single man march in arms towards the East?

The Council of Clermont, which was held in the month of November, 1095, had fixed the departure of the crusaders for the festival of the Assumption of the following year. During the winter nothing was thought of but preparations for the voyage to the Holy Land. As soon as the spring appeared, nothing could restrain the impatience of the crusaders, and they set forward on their march to the places at which they were to assemble. The greater number went on foot; some horsemen appeared amongst the multitude; a great many travelled in cars; they were clothed in a variety of manners, and armed, in the same way, with lances, swords, javelins, iron clubs, etc. The crowd of crusaders presented a whimsical and confused mixture of all ranks and all conditions; women appeared in arms in the midst of warriors, prostitution not being forgotten among the austerities of penitence. Old age was to be seen with infancy, opulence next to misery; the helmet was confounded with the frock, the mitre with the sword. Around cities, around fortresses, in the plains, upon the mountains, were raised tents and pavilions; everywhere was displayed a preparation for war and festivity. Here was heard the sound of arms or the braying of trumpets; whilst at a short distance the air was filled with psalms and spiritual songs. From the Tiber to the ocean, and from the Rhine to the other side of the Pyrenees, nothing was to be seen but troops of men marked with the cross, who swore to exterminate the Saracens, and were chanting their songs of conquest beforehand. On all sides resounded the war-cry of the crusaders: “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!”

Families, whole villages, set out for Palestine, and drew into their ranks all they met with on their passage. They marched on without forethought, and would not believe that he who nourishes the sparrow would leave[337] pilgrims clothed with the holy cross to perish with want. Their ignorance added to their illusion, and lent an air of enchantment to everything they saw; they believed at every moment they were approaching the end of their pilgrimage. The children of the villagers, when they saw a city or a castle, asked if that was Jerusalem. Many of the great lords, who had passed their lives in their rustic donjons, knew very little more on this head than their vassals; they took with them their hunting and fishing appointments, and marched with their falcons on their wrists, preceded by their hounds. They expected to reach Jerusalem enjoying themselves on the road, and to exhibit to Asia the rude luxury of their castles.

In the midst of the general delirium, no sage caused the voice of reason to be heard; nobody was then astonished at that which now creates so much surprise. These scenes so strange, in which everyone was an actor, could only be a spectacle for posterity.b

FOOTNOTES

---

[338]

CHAPTER II. THE FIRST CRUSADE

The 15th of August had been fixed in the Council of Clermont for the departure of the pilgrims; but the day was anticipated by the thoughtless and needy crowd of plebeians. Early in the spring, from the confines of France and Lorraine, above sixty thousand of the populace of both sexes, flocked round the first missionary of the Crusades, and pressed him with clamorous importunity to lead them to the Holy Sepulchre. The hermit, assuming the character, without the talents or authority, of a general, impelled or obeyed the forward impulse of his votaries along the banks of the Rhine and Danube. Their wants and numbers soon compelled them to separate, and his lieutenant, Walter the Penniless, a valiant though needy soldier, conducted a vanguard of pilgrims, whose condition may be determined from the proportion of eight horsemen to fifteen thousand foot.

The example and footsteps of Peter were closely pursued by another fanatic, the monk Godescal [or Gottschalk], whose sermons had swept away fifteen or twenty thousand peasants from the villages of Germany. Their rear was again pressed by a herd of two hundred thousand, the most stupid and savage refuse of the people, who mingled with their devotion a brutal license of rapine, prostitution, and drunkenness. Some counts and gentlemen, at the head of three thousand horse, attended the motions of the multitude to partake in the spoil; but their genuine leaders (may we credit such[339] folly?) were a goose and a goat, who were carried in the front, and to whom these worthy Christians ascribed an infusion of the divine Spirit. Of these, and of other bands of enthusiasts, the first and most easy warfare was against the Jews, the murderers of the Son of God. In the trading cities of the Moselle and the Rhine, their colonies were numerous and rich; and they enjoyed, under the protection of the emperor and the bishops, the free exercise of their religion. At Verdun, Trèves, Mainz, Speier, Worms, many thousands of that unhappy people were pillaged and massacred; nor had they felt a more bloody stroke since the persecution of Hadrian. A remnant was saved by the firmness of their bishops, who accepted a feigned and transient conversion; but the more obstinate Jews opposed their fanaticism to the fanaticism of the Christians, barricaded their houses, and precipitating themselves, their families, and their wealth into the rivers or the flames, disappointed the malice, or at least the avarice, of their implacable foes.

PETER THE HERMIT AND HIS RABBLE

Between the frontiers of Austria and the seat of the Byzantine monarchy the crusaders were compelled to traverse an interval of six hundred miles—the wild and desolate countries of Hungary and Bulgaria. Both nations had imbibed the rudiments of Christianity: the Hungarians were ruled by their native princes, the Bulgarians by a lieutenant of the Greek emperor; but on the slightest provocation their ferocious nature was rekindled, and ample provocation was afforded by the disorders of the first pilgrims. Agriculture must have been unskilful and languid among a people whose cities were built of reeds and timber, which were deserted in the summer season for the tents of hunters and shepherds. A scanty supply of provisions was rudely demanded, forcibly seized, and greedily consumed; and on the first quarrel, the crusaders gave a loose rein to indignation and revenge. But their ignorance of the country, of war, and of discipline exposed them to every snare. The Greek prefect of Bulgaria commanded a regular force; at the trumpet of the Hungarian king, the eighth or the tenth of his martial subjects bent their bows and mounted on horseback; their policy was insidious, and their retaliation on these pious robbers was unrelenting and bloody. About a third of the naked fugitives, and the hermit Peter was of the number, escaped to the Thracian Mountains; and the emperor, who respected the pilgrimage and succour of the Latins, conducted them by secure and easy journeys to Constantinople, and advised them to await the arrival of their brethren.

For awhile they remembered their faults and losses; but no sooner were they revived by the hospitable entertainment than their venom was again inflamed; they stung their benefactor, and neither gardens, nor palaces, nor churches were safe from their depredations. For his own safety, Alexius allured them to pass over to the Asiatic side of the Bosporus; but their blind impetuosity soon urged them to desert the station which he had assigned, and to rush headlong against the Turks who occupied the road of Jerusalem. The hermit, conscious of his shame, had withdrawn from the camp to Constantinople; and his lieutenant, Walter the Penniless, who was worthy of a better command, attempted without success to introduce some order and prudence among the herd of savages. They separated in quest of prey, and themselves fell an easy prey to the arts of the sultan. By a rumour that their foremost companions were rioting in the spoils of his[340] capital, Suleiman tempted the main body to descend into the plain of Nicæa; they were overwhelmed by the Turkish arrows; and a pyramid of bones informed their companions of the place of their defeat. Of the first crusaders, three hundred thousand[48] had already perished before a single city was rescued from the infidels, before their graver and more noble brethren had completed the preparations of their enterprise.

THE LEADERS OF THE FIRST CRUSADE

None of the great sovereigns of Europe embarked their persons in the First Crusade. The religious ardour was more strongly felt by the princes of the second order, who held an important place in the feudal system. The first rank both in war and council is justly due to Godfrey de Bouillon; and happy would it have been for the crusaders, if they had trusted themselves to the sole conduct of that accomplished hero, a worthy representative of Charlemagne, from whom he was descended in the female line.

In the service of Henry IV, he bore the great standard of the empire, and pierced with his lance the breast of Rudolf the rebel king; Godfrey was the first who ascended the walls of Rome; and his sickness, his vow, perhaps his remorse for bearing arms against the pope, confirmed an early resolution of visiting the Holy Sepulchre, not as a pilgrim but a deliverer. His valour was matured by prudence and moderation; his piety, though blind, was sincere; and in the tumult of a camp he practised the real and fictitious virtues of a convent. Superior to the private factions of the chiefs, he reserved his enmity for the enemies of Christ; and though he gained a kingdom by the attempt, his pure and disinterested zeal was acknowledged by his rivals. Godfrey de Bouillon was accompanied by his two brothers—by Eustace the elder, who had succeeded to the county of Boulogne, and by the younger, Baldwin, a character of more ambiguous virtue.

In the parliament that was held at Paris, in the king’s presence, about two months after the Council of Clermont, Hugh, count of Vermandois was the most conspicuous of the princes who assumed the cross. But the appellation of “the great” was applied, not so much to his merit or possessions (though neither were contemptible) as to the royal birth of the brother of the king of France. Robert, duke of Normandy, was the eldest son of William the Conqueror; but on his father’s death he was deprived of the kingdom of England by his own indolence and the activity of his brother Rufus. For the trifling sum of ten thousand marks he mortgaged Normandy, during his absence, to the English usurper; but his engagement and behaviour in the holy war announced in Robert a reformation of manners, and restored him in some degree to the public esteem. Another Robert was count of Flanders; he was surnamed the Sword and Lance of the Christians; but in the exploits of a soldier he sometimes forgot the duties of a general. Stephen, count of Chartres, of Blois, and of Troyes, was one of the richest princes of the age; and the number of his castles has been compared to the 365 days of the year. His mind was improved by literature; and in the council of the chiefs, the eloquent Stephen was chosen to discharge the office of their president. These four were the principal leaders of the French, the Normans, and the pilgrims of the British Isles; but the list[341] of the barons who were possessed of three or four towns would exceed, says a contemporary, the catalogue of the Trojan War.

In the south of France, the command was assumed by Adhemar, bishop of Puy, the pope’s legate; and by Raymond, count of St. Giles and Toulouse, who added the prouder titles of duke of Narbonne and marquis of Provence. The former was a respectable prelate, alike qualified for this world and the next. The latter was a veteran warrior, who had fought against the Saracens of Spain, and who consecrated his declining age not only to the deliverance but to the perpetual service of the Holy Sepulchre. A mercantile, rather than a martial spirit prevailed among his provincials—a common name which included the natives of Auvergne and Languedoc—the vassals of the kingdom of Burgundy or Arles. From the adjacent frontier of Spain, he drew a band of hardy adventurers; as he marched through Lombardy, a crowd of Italians flocked to his standard, and his united force consisted of one hundred thousand horse and foot. If Raymond was the first to enlist and the last to depart, the delay may be excused by the greatness of his preparation and the promise of an everlasting farewell.

The name of Bohemond, the son of Robert Guiscard, was already famous by his double victory over the Greek emperor; but his father’s will had reduced him to the principality of Taranto and the remembrance of his eastern trophies, till he was awakened by the rumour and passage of the French pilgrims. It is in the person of this Norman chief that we may seek for the coolest policy and ambition with a small alloy of religious fanaticism. His conduct may justify a belief that he had secretly directed the design of the pope, which he affected to second with astonishment and zeal. At the siege of Amalfi, his example and discourse inflamed the passions of a confederate army; he instantly tore his garment to supply crosses for the numerous candidates and prepared to visit Constantinople and Asia at the head of ten thousand horse and twenty thousand foot. Several princes of the Norman race accompanied this veteran general; and his cousin Tancred was the partner, rather than the servant, of the war. In the accomplished character of Tancred we discover all the virtues of a perfect knight—the true spirit of chivalry, which inspired the generous sentiments and social offices of man, far better than the base philosophy, or the baser religion, of the times.

Between the age of Charlemagne and that of the Crusades, a revolution had taken place among the Spaniards, the Normans, and the French, which was gradually extended to the rest of Europe. The service of the infantry was degraded to the plebeians; the cavalry formed the strength of the armies, and the honourable name miles, or soldier, was confined to the gentlemen who served on horseback and were invested with the character of knighthood. The dukes and counts, who had usurped the rights of sovereignty, divided the[342] provinces among their faithful barons; the barons distributed among their vassals the fiefs or benefices of their jurisdiction; and these military tenants, the peers of each other and of their lord, composed the noble or equestrian order, which disdained to conceive the peasant or burgher as of the same species with themselves. The dignity of their birth was preserved by pure and equal alliances; their sons alone who could produce four quarters or lines of ancestry without spot or reproach, might legally pretend to the honour of knighthood: but a valiant plebeian was sometimes enriched and ennobled by the sword and became the father of a new race. A single knight could impart, according to his judgment, the character which he received; and the warlike sovereigns of Europe derived more glory from this personal distinction than from the lustre of their diadem.

Such were the troops, and such the leaders, who assumed the cross for the deliverance of the Holy Sepulchre. As soon as they were relieved by the absence of the plebeian multitude, they encouraged each other, by interviews and messages, to accomplish their vow and hasten their departure. Their wives and sisters were desirous of partaking the danger and merit of the pilgrimage; their portable treasures were conveyed in bars of silver and gold; and the princes and barons were attended by their equipage of hounds and hawks to amuse their leisure and to supply their table. The difficulty of procuring subsistence for so many myriads of men and horses engaged them to separate their forces; their choice or situation determined the road; and it was agreed to meet in the neighbourhood of Constantinople, and from thence to begin their operations against the Turks.

ALEXIUS COMPELS HOMAGE

In some oriental tale there is the fable of a shepherd, who was ruined by the accomplishment of his own wishes: he had prayed for water; the Ganges was turned into his grounds, and his flock and cottage were swept away by the inundation. Such was the fortune, or at least the apprehension, of the Greek emperor Alexius Comnenus. In the Council of Placentia, his ambassadors had solicited a moderate succour, perhaps of ten thousand soldiers; but he was astonished by the approach of so many potent chiefs and fanatic nations. The promiscuous multitudes of Peter the Hermit were savage beasts, alike destitute of humanity and reason; nor was it possible for Alexius to prevent or deplore their destruction. The troops of Godfrey and his peers were less contemptible, but not less suspicious, to the Greek emperor. Their motives might be pure and pious; but he was equally alarmed by his knowledge of the ambitious Bohemond, and his ignorance of the Transalpine chiefs; the courage of the French was blind and headstrong; they might be tempted by the luxury and wealth of Greece, and elated by the view and opinion of their invincible strength; and Jerusalem might be forgotten in the prospect of Constantinople.

After a long march and painful abstinence, the troops of Godfrey encamped in the plains of Thrace; they heard with indignation that their brother, the count of Vermandois, was imprisoned by the Greeks; and their reluctant duke was compelled to indulge them in some freedom of retaliation and rapine. They were appeased by the submission of Alexius; he promised to supply their camp; and as they refused, in the midst of winter, to pass the Bosporus, their quarters were assigned among the gardens and palaces on the shores of that narrow sea. But an incurable[343] jealousy still rankled in the minds of the two nations, who despised each other as slaves and barbarians. Ignorance is the ground of suspicion, and suspicion was inflamed into daily provocations; prejudice is blind, hunger is deaf; and Alexius is accused of a design to starve or assault the Latins in a dangerous post, on all sides encompassed with the waters. Godfrey sounded his trumpets, burst the net, overspread the plain, and insulted the suburbs; but the gates of Constantinople were strongly fortified; the ramparts were lined with archers; and after a doubtful conflict, both parties listened to the voice of peace and religion. The gifts and promises of the emperor insensibly soothed the fierce spirit of the western strangers; as a Christian warrior, he rekindled their zeal for the prosecution of their holy enterprise, which he engaged to second with his troops and treasures. On the return of spring, Godfrey was persuaded to occupy a pleasant and plentiful camp in Asia; and no sooner had he passed the Bosporus than the Greek vessels were suddenly recalled to the opposite shore. The same policy was repeated with the succeeding chiefs, who were swayed by the example and weakened by the departure of their foremost companions. By his skill and diligence Alexius prevented the union of any two of the confederate armies at the same moment under the walls of Constantinople; and before the feast of the Pentecost not a Latin pilgrim was left on the coast of Europe.

The same arms which threatened Europe might deliver Asia, and repel the Turks from the neighbouring shores of the Bosporus and the Hellespont. The fair provinces from Nicæa to Antioch were the recent patrimony of the Roman emperor; and his ancient and perpetual claim still embraced the kingdoms of Syria and Egypt. In his enthusiasm, Alexius indulged, or affected, the ambitious hope of leading his new allies to subvert the thrones of the East; but the calmer dictates of reason and temper dissuaded him from exposing his royal person to the faith of unknown and lawless barbarians. His prudence, or his pride, was content with extorting from the French princes an oath of homage and fidelity, and a solemn promise that they would either restore, or hold, their Asiatic conquests, as the humble and loyal vassals of the Roman Empire. Their independent spirit was fired at the mention of this foreign and voluntary servitude; they successively yielded to the dexterous application of gifts and flattery; and the first proselytes became the most eloquent and effectual missionaries to multiply the companions of their shame.

The ceremony of their homage was grateful to a people who had long since considered pride as the substitute of power. High on his throne, the emperor sat mute and immovable; his majesty was adored by the Latin princes; and they submitted to kiss either his feet or his knees, an indignity which their own writers are ashamed to confess, and unable to deny.

NUMBERS OF THE CRUSADERS

The conquest of Asia was undertaken and achieved by Alexander, with thirty-five thousand Macedonians and Greeks; and his best hope was in the strength and discipline of his phalanx of infantry. The principal force of the crusaders consisted in their cavalry; and when that force was mustered in the plains of Bithynia, the knights and their martial attendants on horseback amounted to one hundred thousand fighting men, completely armed with the helmet and coat of mail. The value of these soldiers deserved a strict and authentic account; and the flower of European chivalry might[344] furnish, in a first effort, this formidable body of heavy horse. A part of the infantry might be enrolled for the service of scouts, pioneers, and archers; but the promiscuous crowd were lost in their own disorder; and we depend not on the eyes or knowledge, but on the belief and fancy of a chaplain of Count Baldwin, in the estimate of six hundred thousand pilgrims able to bear arms, besides the priests and monks, the women and children, of the Latin camp. The reader starts; and before he recovers from his surprise, we shall add, on the same testimony, that if all who took the cross had accomplished their vow, above six millions would have migrated from Europe to Asia. Under this oppression of faith we derive some relief from a more sagacious and thinking writer, who, after the same review of the cavalry, accuses the credulity of the priest of Chartres, and even doubts whether the Cisalpine regions (in the geography of a Frenchman) were sufficient to produce and pour forth such incredible multitudes. The coolest scepticism will remember, that of these religious volunteers great numbers never beheld Constantinople and Nicæa. Of enthusiasm the influence is irregular and transient; many were detained at home by reason or cowardice, by poverty or weakness; and many were repulsed by the obstacles of the way, the more insuperable as they were unforeseen to these ignorant fanatics. The savage countries of Hungary and Bulgaria were whitened with their bones; their vanguard was cut in pieces by the Turkish sultan; and the loss of the first adventure, by the sword, or climate, or fatigue, has already been stated at three hundred thousand men. Yet the myriads that survived, that marched, that pressed forwards on the holy pilgrimage, were a subject of astonishment to themselves and to the Greeks. The copious energy of her language sinks under the efforts of the princess Anna Comnena; the images of locusts, of leaves and flowers, of the sands of the sea, or the stars of heaven, imperfectly represent what she had seen and heard; and the daughter of Alexius exclaims, that Europe was loosened from its foundations and hurled against Asia. The ancient hosts of Darius and Xerxes labour under the same doubt of a vague and indefinite magnitude; but we are inclined to believe that a larger number has never been contained within the lines of a single camp than at the siege of Nicæa, the first operation of the Latin princes. Their motives, their characters, and their arms, have been already displayed. Of their troops the most numerous portion were natives of France; the Low Countries, the banks of the Rhine, and Apulia sent a powerful reinforcement; some bands of adventurers were drawn from Spain, Lombardy, and England, and from the distant bogs and mountains of Ireland or Scotland issued some naked and savage fanatics, ferocious at home, but unwarlike abroad.

THE SIEGE OF NICÆA

We have expatiated with pleasure on the first steps of the crusaders, as they paint the manners and character of Europe; but we shall abridge the tedious and uniform narrative of their blind achievements, which were performed by strength, and are described by ignorance. From their first station in the neighbourhood of Nicomedia, they advanced in successive divisions; passed the contracted limit of the Greek Empire; opened a road through the hills, and commenced, by the siege of his capital, their pious warfare against the Turkish sultan. His kingdom of Roum extended from the Hellespont to the confines of Syria, and barred the pilgrimage of Jerusalem; his name was Kilij-Arslan, or Suleiman, of the race of Seljuk,[345] and son of the first conqueror; and in the defence of a land which the Turks considered as their own, he deserved the praise of his enemies, by whom alone he is known to posterity. Yielding to the first impulse of the torrent, he deposited his family and treasure in Nicæa; retired to the mountains with fifty thousand horse; and twice descended to assault the camps or quarters of the Christian besiegers, which formed an imperfect circle of above six miles.

The lofty and solid walls of Nicæa were covered by a deep ditch, and flanked by 370 towers; and on the verge of Christendom, the Moslems were trained in arms, and inflamed by religion. Before this city, the French princes occupied their stations, and prosecuted their attacks without correspondence or subordination; emulation prompted their valour; but their valour was sullied by cruelty, and their emulation degenerated into envy and civil discord. In the space of seven weeks, much labour and blood were expended, and some progress, especially by Count Raymond, was made on the side of the besiegers. But the Turks could protract their resistance and secure their escape, as long as they were masters of the lake Ascanius, which stretches several miles to the westward of the city. The means of conquest were supplied by the prudence and industry of Alexius; a great number of boats was transported on sledges from the sea to the lake; they were filled with the most dexterous of his archers; the flight of the sultana was intercepted; Nicæa was invested by land and water; and a Greek emissary persuaded the inhabitants to accept his master’s protection, and to save themselves, by a timely surrender, from the rage of the savages of Europe. In the moment of victory, or at least of hope, the crusaders, thirsting for blood and plunder, were awed by the imperial banner that streamed from the citadel; and Alexius guarded with jealous vigilance this important conquest. The murmurs of the chiefs were stifled by honour or interest; and after a halt of nine days, they directed their march towards Phrygia, under the guidance of a Greek general, whom they suspected of a secret connivance with the sultan. The consort and the principal servants of Suleiman had been honourably restored without ransom; and the emperor’s generosity to the miscreants was interpreted as treason to the Christian cause.

BATTLE OF DORYLÆUM

Suleiman was rather provoked than dismayed by the loss of his capital; he admonished his subjects and allies of this strange invasion of the western barbarians; the Turkish emirs obeyed the call of loyalty or religion; the Turkoman hordes encamped round his standard; and his whole force is loosely stated by the Christians at 200,000, or even 360,000 horse. Yet he patiently waited till they had left behind them the sea and the Greek frontier; and hovering on the flanks, observed their careless and confident progress in two columns beyond the view of each other. Some miles before they could reach Dorylæum in Phrygia, the left, and least numerous, division was surprised and attacked and almost oppressed, by the Turkish cavalry. The heat of the weather, the clouds of arrows, and the barbarous onset, overwhelmed the crusaders; they lost their order and confidence; and the fainting fight was sustained by the personal valour, rather than by the military conduct, of Bohemond, Tancred, and Robert of Normandy. They were revived by the welcome banners of Duke Godfrey, who flew to their succour with the count of Vermandois and sixty thousand[346] horse; and was followed by Raymond of Toulouse, the bishop of Puy, and the remainder of the sacred army. Without a moment’s pause, they formed in new order, and advanced to a second battle. They were received with equal resolution; and, in their common disdain for the unwarlike people of Greece and Asia, it was confessed on both sides, that the Turks and the Franks were the only nations entitled to the appellation of soldiers.

As long as the horses were fresh and the quivers full, Suleiman maintained the advantage of the day; and four thousand Christians were pierced by the Turkish arrows. In the evening, swiftness yielded to strength; on either side, the numbers were equal, or at least as great as any ground could hold, or any generals could manage; but in turning the hills, the last division of Raymond and his provincials was led, perhaps without design, on the rear of an exhausted enemy, and the long contest was determined. Besides a nameless and unaccounted multitude, three thousand pagan knights were slain in the battle and pursuit; the camp of Suleiman was pillaged. Reserving ten thousand guards of the relics of his army, Suleiman evacuated the kingdom of Roum, and hastened to implore the aid, and kindle the resentment, of his eastern brethren. In a march of five hundred miles, the crusaders traversed the Lesser Asia, through a wasted land and deserted towns, without either finding a friend or an enemy. The geographer may trace the position of Dorylæum, Antioch of Pisidia, Iconium, Archelais, and Germanicia, and may compare those classic appellations with the modern names of Eskishehr the old city, Akshehr the white city, Cogni, Erekli, and Marash.

PRINCIPALITY OF EDESSA FOUNDED

To improve the general consternation, the cousin of Bohemond and the brother of Godfrey were detached from the main army with their respective squadrons of five, and of seven, hundred knights. They overran in a rapid career the hills and sea coast of Cilicia, from Cogni to the Syrian gates; the Norman standard was first planted on the walls of Tarsus and Malmistra; but the proud injustice of Baldwin at length provoked the patient and generous Italian; and they turned their consecrated swords against each other in a private and profane quarrel. Honour was the motive, and fame the reward, of Tancred; but fortune smiled on the more selfish enterprise of his rival. He was called to the assistance of a Greek or Armenian tyrant, who had been suffered under the Turkish yoke to reign over the Christians of Edessa. Baldwin accepted the character of his son and champion; but no sooner was he introduced into the city than he inflamed the people to the massacre of his father, occupied the throne and treasure, extended his conquests over the[347] hills of Armenia and the plain of Mesopotamia, and founded the first principality of the Franks or Latins, which subsisted fifty-four years beyond the Euphrates.

SIEGE OF ANTIOCH

Before the Franks could enter Syria, the summer, and even the autumn, were completely wasted. The siege of Antioch, or the separation and repose of the army during the winter season, was strongly debated in their council. At the head of the Turkish emirs, Baghi Sian, a veteran chief, commanded in the place; his garrison was composed of six or seven thousand horse, and fifteen or twenty thousand foot. Notwithstanding strong fortifications, the city had been repeatedly taken by the Persians, the Arabs, the Greeks, and the Turks; so large a circuit must have yielded many previous points of attack; and in a siege that was formed about the middle of October, the vigour of the execution could alone justify the boldness of the attempt. Whatever strength and valour could perform in the field was abundantly discharged by the champions of the cross; in the frequent occasions of sallies, of forage, of the attack and defence of convoys, they were often victorious; and we can only complain that their exploits are sometimes enlarged beyond the scale of probability and truth. The sword of Godfrey divided a Turk from the shoulder to the haunch; and one half of the infidel fell to the ground, while the other was transported by his horse to the city gate. But the reality or report of such gigantic prowess must have taught the Moslems to keep within their walls; and against those walls of earth or stone, the sword and the lance were unavailing weapons.

Indolence or weakness had prevented the Franks from investing the entire circuit; and the perpetual freedom of two gates relieved the wants and recruited the garrison of the city. At the end of seven months, after the ruin of their cavalry, and an enormous loss by famine, desertion, and fatigue, the progress of the crusaders was imperceptible, and their success remote, if the Latin Ulysses, the artful and ambitious Bohemond, had not employed the arms of cunning and deceit. The Christians of Antioch were numerous and discontented; Firuz, a Syrian renegado, had acquired the favour of the emir and the command of three towers. A secret correspondence was soon established. Bohemond declared in the council of the chiefs that he could deliver the city into their hands. But he claimed the sovereignty of Antioch as the reward of his service; and the proposal which had been rejected by the envy, was at length extorted from the distress, of his equals. The nocturnal surprise was executed by the French and Norman princes, who ascended in person the scaling ladders that were thrown from the wall; their new proselyte, after the murder of his too scrupulous brother, embraced and introduced the servants of Christ; the army rushed through the gates; and the Moslems soon found, that, although mercy was hopeless, resistance was impotent.

But the citadel still refused to surrender, and the victors themselves were speedily encompassed and besieged by the innumerable forces of Kerboga, prince of Mosul, who with twenty-eight Turkish emirs advanced to the deliverance of Antioch. Five-and-twenty days the Christians spent on the verge of destruction; and the proud lieutenant of the caliph and the sultan left them only the choice of servitude or death. In this extremity they collected the relics of their strength, sallied from the town, and in a single memorable day annihilated or dispersed the host of Turks and Arabians,[348] which they might safely report to have consisted of six hundred thousand men. Their supernatural allies we shall proceed to consider; the human causes of the victory of Antioch were the fearless despair of the Franks, and the surprise, the discord, perhaps the errors, of their adversaries.

In the eventful period of the siege and defence of Antioch, the crusaders were alternately exalted by victory or sunk in despair; either swelled with plenty or emaciated with hunger. A speculative reasoner might suppose that their faith had a strong and serious influence on their practice; and that the soldiers of the cross, the deliverers of the Holy Sepulchre, prepared themselves by a sober and virtuous life for the daily contemplation of martyrdom. Experience blows away this charitable illusion; and seldom does the history of profane war display such scenes of intemperance and prostitution as were exhibited under the walls of Antioch. The grove of Daphne no longer flourished; but the Syrian air was still impregnated with the same vices; the Christians were seduced by every temptation that nature either prompts or reprobates; the authority of the chiefs was despised; and sermons and edicts were alike fruitless against those scandalous disorders, not less pernicious to military discipline, than repugnant to evangelic purity. In the first days of the siege and the possession of Antioch, the Franks consumed with wanton and thoughtless prodigality the frugal subsistence of weeks and months; the desolate country no longer yielded a supply; and from that country they were at length excluded by the arms of the besieging Turks. Disease, the faithful companion of want, was envenomed by the rains of the winter, the summer heats, unwholesome food, and the close imprisonment of multitudes. The pictures of famine and pestilence are always the same, and always disgustful.

The remains of treasure or spoil were eagerly lavished in the purchase of the vilest nourishment; and dreadful must have been the calamities of the poor, since, after paying three marks of silver for a goat, and fifteen for a lean camel, the count of Flanders was reduced to beg a dinner, and Duke Godfrey to borrow a horse. Sixty thousand horses had been reviewed in the camp; before the end of the siege they were diminished to two thousand, and scarcely two hundred fit for service could be mustered on the day of battle. Weakness of body and terror of mind extinguished the ardent enthusiasm of the pilgrims; and every motive of honour and religion was subdued by the desire of life. Among the chiefs, three heroes may be found without fear or reproach: Godfrey de Bouillon was supported by his magnanimous piety; Bohemond by ambition and interest; and Tancred declared, in the true spirit of chivalry, that as long as he was at the head of forty knights he would never relinquish the enterprise of Palestine. But the count of Toulouse and Provence was suspected of a voluntary indisposition; the duke of Normandy was recalled from the sea shore by the censures of the church; Hugh the Great, though he led the vanguard of the battle, embraced an ambiguous opportunity of returning to France; and Stephen count of Chartres basely deserted the standard which he bore, and the council in which he presided. The soldiers were discouraged by the flight of William, viscount of Melun, surnamed the Carpenter from the weighty strokes of his axe; and the saints were scandalised by the fall of Peter the Hermit, who attempted to escape from the penance of a necessary fast.[49]

[349]

A TYPICAL MIRACLE

In such a cause, and in such an army, visions, prophecies, and miracles were frequent and familiar. In the distress of Antioch, they were repeated with unusual energy and success; St. Ambrose had assured a pious ecclesiastic that two years of trial must precede the season of deliverance and grace; the deserters were stopped by the presence and reproaches of Christ himself; the dead had promised to arise and combat with their brethren; the Virgin had obtained the pardon of their sins; and their confidence was revived by a visible sign, the seasonable and splendid discovery of the holy lance. The policy of their chiefs has on this occasion been admired, and might surely be excused; but a pious fraud is seldom produced by the cool conspiracy of many persons; and a voluntary impostor might depend on the support of the wise and the credulity of the people. Of the diocese of Marseilles, there was a priest of low cunning and loose manners, and his name was Peter Bartholemy. He presented himself at the door of the council-chamber to disclose an apparition of St. Andrew which had been thrice reiterated in his sleep, with a dreadful menace, if he presumed to suppress the commands of heaven. “At Antioch,” said the apostle, “in the church of my brother St. Peter, near the high altar, is concealed the steel head of the lance that pierced the side of our Redeemer. In three days, that instrument of eternal, and now of temporal salvation, will be manifested to his disciples. Search and ye shall find; bear it aloft in battle, and that mystic weapon shall penetrate the souls of the miscreants.” The pope’s legate, the bishop of Puy, affected to listen with coldness and distrust; but the revelation was eagerly accepted by Count Raymond, whom his faithful subject, in the name of the apostle, had chosen for the guardian of the holy lance.

The experiment was resolved; and on the third day after a due preparation of prayer and fasting the priest of Marseilles introduced twelve trusty spectators, among whom were the count and his chaplain; and the church doors were barred against the impetuous multitude. The ground was opened in the appointed place; but the workmen, who relieved each other, dug to the depth of twelve feet without discovering the object of their search. In the evening, when Count Raymond had withdrawn to his post, and the weary assistants began to murmur, Bartholemy in his shirt, and without his shoes, boldly descended into the pit; the darkness of the[350] hour and of the place enabled him to secrete and deposit the head of a Saracen lance; and the first sound, the first gleam of the steel, was saluted with a devout rapture. The holy lance was drawn from its recess, wrapped in a veil of silk and gold, and exposed to the veneration of the crusaders; their anxious suspense burst forth in a general shout of joy and hope, and the desponding troops were again inflamed with the enthusiasm of valour. Next day the gates of Antioch were thrown open; the battle array was marshalled; the holy lance was carried by Raymond’s chaplain; and the hosts of the enemy were annihilated or scattered.

In the season of danger and triumph, the revelation of Bartholemy of Marseilles was unanimously asserted; but as soon as the temporary service was accomplished, the personal dignity and liberal alms which the count of Toulouse derived from the custody of the holy lance provoked the envy, and awakened the reason, of his rivals. A Norman clerk presumed to sift, with a philosophic spirit, the truth of the legend, the circumstances of the discovery, and the character of the prophet; and the pious Bohemond ascribed their deliverance to the merits and intercession of Christ alone. For a while, the provincials defended their national palladium with clamours and arms; and new visions condemned to death and hell the profane sceptics who presumed to scrutinise the truth and merit of the discovery. The prevalence of incredulity compelled the author to submit his life and veracity to the judgment of God. A pile of dry fagots, four feet high, and fourteen long, was erected in the midst of the camp; the flames burned fiercely to the elevation of thirty cubits; and a narrow path of twelve inches was left for the perilous trial. The unfortunate priest of Marseilles traversed the fire with dexterity and speed; but his thighs and belly were scorched by the intense heat; he expired the next day; and the logic of believing minds will pay some regard to his dying protestations of innocence and truth. Some efforts were made by the provincials to substitute a cross, a ring, or a tabernacle, in the place of the holy lance, which soon vanished in contempt and oblivion.

The prudence or fortune of the Franks had delayed their invasion till the decline of the Turkish Empire. Under the manly government of the first three sultans, the kingdoms of Asia were united in peace and justice; and the innumerable armies which they led in person were equal in courage, and superior in discipline, to the barbarians of the West. But at the time of the crusade the inheritance of Malik Shah was disputed by his four sons. The twenty-eight emirs, who marched with the standard of Kerboga, were his rivals or enemies; their hasty levies were drawn from the towns and tents of Mesopotamia and Syria; and the Turkish veterans were employed or consumed in the civil wars beyond the Tigris. The caliph of Egypt embraced this opportunity of weakness and discord, to recover his ancient possessions; and his sultan Afdal besieged Jerusalem and Tyre, expelled the children of Ortok, and restored in Palestine the civil and ecclesiastical authority of the Fatimites. They heard with astonishment of the vast armies of Christians that had passed from Europe to Asia, and rejoiced in the sieges and battles which broke the power of the Turks, the adversaries of their sect and monarchy. But the same Christians were the enemies of the prophet; and from the overthrow of Nicæa and Antioch, the motive of their enterprise, which was gradually understood, would urge them forwards to the banks of the Jordan, or perhaps of the Nile. An intercourse of epistles and embassies, which rose and fell with the events of war, was maintained between the throne of Cairo and the camp of the Latins; and their[351] adverse pride was the result of ignorance and enthusiasm. The ministers of Egypt declared in a haughty, or insinuated in a milder, tone, that their sovereign, the true and lawful commander of the faithful, had rescued Jerusalem from the Turkish yoke; and that the pilgrims, if they would divide their numbers, and lay aside their arms, should find a safe and hospitable reception at the sepulchre of Jesus. In either fortune the answer of the crusaders was firm and uniform; they disdained to inquire into the private claims or possessions of the followers of Mohammed; whatsoever was his name or nation, the usurper of Jerusalem was their enemy; and instead of prescribing the mode and terms of their pilgrimage, it was only by a timely surrender of the city and province, their sacred right, that he could deserve their alliance, or deprecate their impending and irresistible attack.

JERUSALEM BESIEGED

Yet this attack, when they were within the view and reach of their glorious prize, was suspended above ten months after the defeat of Kerboga. The zeal and courage of the crusaders were chilled in the moment of victory; and instead of marching to improve the consternation, they hastily dispersed to enjoy the luxury of Syria. The causes of this strange delay may be found in the want of strength and subordination. In the painful and various service of Antioch, the cavalry was annihilated; many thousands of every rank had been lost by famine, sickness, and desertion; the same abuse of plenty had been productive of a third famine; and the alternation of intemperance and distress had generated a pestilence, which swept away above fifty thousand of the pilgrims. Few were able to command, and none were willing to obey; and Count Raymond exhausted his troops and treasures in an idle expedition into the heart of Syria. The winter was consumed in discord and disorder. In the month of May, the relics of this mighty host proceeded from Antioch to Laodicea; about forty thousand Latins, of whom no more than fifteen hundred horse, and twenty thousand foot, were capable of immediate service. Their easy march was continued between Mount Libanus and the sea shore; their wants were liberally supplied by the coasting traders of Genoa and Pisa; and they drew large contributions from the emirs of Tripolis, Tyre, Sidon, Acre, and Cæsarea, who granted a free passage and promised to follow the example of Jerusalem. From Cæsarea they advanced into the midland country; their clerks recognised the sacred geography of Lydda, Ramla, Emmaus, and Bethlehem, and as soon as they descried the Holy City, the crusaders forgot their toils and claimed their reward.

Jerusalem has derived some reputation from the number and importance of her memorable sieges. It was not till after a long and obstinate contest that Babylon and Rome could prevail against the obstinacy of the people, the craggy ground that might supersede the necessity of fortifications, and the walls and towers that would have fortified the most accessible plain. By the experience of a recent siege, and a three years’ possession, the Saracens of Egypt had been taught to discern, and in some degree to remedy, the defects of a place, which religion as well as honour forbade them to resign. Aladin, or Iftikhar, the caliph’s lieutenant, was entrusted with the defence; his policy strove to restrain the native Christians by the dread of their own ruin and that of the Holy Sepulchre. His garrison is said to have consisted of forty thousand Turks and Arabians; and if he could muster twenty[352] thousand of the inhabitants, it must be confessed that the besieged were more numerous than the besieging army. Their siege was more reasonably directed against the northern and western sides of the city. Godfrey de Bouillon erected his standard on the first swell of Mount Calvary; to the left, as far as St. Stephen’s gate, the line of attack was continued by Tancred and the two Roberts; and Count Raymond established his quarters from the citadel to the foot of Mount Zion, which was no longer included within the precincts of the city. On the fifth day, the crusaders made a general assault. By dint of brutal force, they burst the first barrier, but they were driven back with shame and slaughter to the camp; the influence of vision and prophecy was deadened by the too frequent abuse of those pious stratagems; and time and labour were found to be the only means of victory. The time of the siege was indeed fulfilled in forty days, but they were forty days of calamity and anguish. On a Friday, at three in the afternoon, the day and hour of the passion, Godfrey de Bouillon stood victorious on the walls of Jerusalem. His example was followed on every side by the emulation of valour; and about 460 years after the conquest of Omar, the Holy City was rescued from the Mohammedan yoke. In the pillage of public and private wealth, the adventurers had agreed to respect the exclusive property of the first occupant; and the spoils of the great mosque, seventy lamps and massy vases of gold and silver, rewarded the diligence, and displayed the generosity, of Tancred.

A bloody sacrifice was offered by his mistaken votaries to the God of the Christians; resistance might provoke, but neither age nor sex could mollify, their implacable rage; they indulged themselves three days in a promiscuous massacre; and the infection of the dead bodies produced an epidemical disease. After seventy thousand Moslems had been put to the sword, and the harmless Jews had been burned in their synagogue, they could still reserve a multitude of captives, whom interest or lassitude persuaded them to spare. Of these savage heroes of the cross, Tancred alone betrayed some sentiments of compassion; yet we may praise the more selfish lenity of Raymond, who granted a capitulation and safe conduct to the garrison of the citadel.

The Holy Sepulchre was now free; and the bloody victors prepared to accomplish their vow. Bareheaded and barefoot, with contrite hearts, and in a humble posture, they ascended the hill of Calvary, amidst the loud anthems of the clergy; kissed the stone which had covered the Saviour of the world, and bedewed with tears of joy and penitence the monument of their redemption.b

THE ARAB ACCOUNT

It is well in a moment of such historic import as this to see how the other side accepts the crisis. The Arab historian Ibn Guzid wrote as follows: “The Franks, when they set out from Antioch, numbered one million men, of whom five hundred thousand were fit for war. The rest consisted of workmen and those employed on the swivel-guns and other instruments of war. They marched along the sea shore. Jerusalem at that time belonged to the Egyptians. Their commander was named Iftikhar ad-Daulah, or ‘the glory of the empire.’

“The siege lasted forty days. The Franks built two towers to command the walls of the town, one in the direction of the gate of Sidon, the other in that of the gates of Asbat and Amud, or the gates of the Tribes and of[353] the Column. The besieged succeeded in burning the tower near the gate of Sidon; the second was brought up close to the walls. Then the Franks set all their machines to work at the same time; attacking like one single man, they put the Moslems to flight and entered the town by force. The inhabitants took refuge in the mosque Alacsa and its dependencies; the Franks, following them there, killed it is said one hundred thousand persons, and made an equal number prisoners. They did not even spare the aged of both sexes.

“In this spot immense riches were stored. They found seventy lamps, twenty of which were of gold and the others of silver; they also carried off a tennur or large silver lamp, weighing forty Syrian pounds. The Jews they shut up in their synagogue, and burned them there. Jerusalem had been in the power of Islam without a break since the reign of Caliph Omar, in the sixteenth year of the Hegira (637 A.D.). A Moslem author named Ibn Zulak,d thinking no doubt to give greater importance to this event, declares that at the moment when the Christians entered the Holy City the sun was eclipsed, the earth was hidden in darkness, and the stars appeared in broad daylight.”d

The Moslem poets describe the horrors of massacre in vehement terms, bewailing the butchery of the women and the children and the fate of their fathers who “but lately masters of Syria, now found no other refuge than the backs of swift camels or even the entrails of the vultures!”a

GODFREY ELECTED KING (1099 A.D.)

Eight days after this memorable event, which Pope Urban did not live to hear, the Latin chiefs proceeded to the election of a king to guard and govern their conquest in Palestine. The jealousy and ambition of Raymond were condemned by his own followers; and the free, the just, the unanimous voice of the army proclaimed Godfrey de Bouillon the first and most worthy of the champions of Christendom. His magnanimity accepted a trust as full of danger as of glory; but in a city where his Saviour had been crowned with thorns, the devout pilgrim rejected the name and ensigns of royalty; and the founder of the kingdom of Jerusalem contented himself with the modest title of Defender and Baron of the Holy Sepulchre. His government of a single year, too short for the public happiness, was interrupted in the first fortnight by a summons to the field by the approach of the vizir or sultan of Egypt, who had been too slow to prevent, but who was impatient to avenge, the loss of Jerusalem. His total overthrow in the battle of Askalon sealed the establishment of the Latins in Syria, and signalised the valour of the French princes, who in this action bade a long farewell to the holy wars.

After suspending before the Holy Sepulchre the sword and standard of the sultan, the new king (he deserves the title) embraced his departing companions, and could retain only, with the gallant Tancred, three hundred knights and two thousand foot soldiers, for the defence of Palestine. His sovereignty was soon attacked by a new enemy, the only one against whom Godfrey was a coward. Adhemar, bishop of Puy, who excelled both in council and action, had been swept away in the last plague of Antioch; the remaining ecclesiastics preserved only the pride and avarice of their character; and their seditious clamours had required that the choice of a bishop should precede that of a king. The revenue and jurisdiction of the lawful[354] patriarch were usurped by the Latin clergy; the exclusion of the Greeks and Syrians was justified by the reproach of heresy or schism; and, under the iron yoke of their deliverers, the oriental Christians regretted the tolerating government of the Arabian caliphs. Daimbert, archbishop of Pisa, had long been trained in the secret policy of Rome; he brought a fleet of his countrymen to the succour of the Holy Land, and was installed, without a competitor, the spiritual and temporal head of the church. The new patriarch immediately grasped the sceptre which had been acquired by the toil and blood of the victorious pilgrims; and both Godfrey and Bohemond submitted to receive at his hands the investiture of their feudal possessions. Nor was this sufficient; Daimbert claimed the immediate property of Jerusalem and Joppa; instead of a firm and generous refusal, the hero negotiated with the priest; a quarter of either city was ceded to the church; and the modest bishop was satisfied with an eventual reversion of the rest, on the death of Godfrey without children, or on the future acquisition of a new seat at Cairo or Damascus.

Without this indulgence, the conqueror would have been almost stripped of his infant kingdom, which consisted only of Jerusalem and Joppa, with about twenty villages and towns of the adjacent country. Within this narrow verge, the Mohammedans were still lodged in some impregnable castles; and the husbandman, the trader, and the pilgrim were exposed to daily and domestic hostility. By the arms of Godfrey himself, and of the two Baldwins, his brother and cousin, who succeeded to the throne, the Latins breathed with more ease and safety; and at length they equalled, in the extent of their dominions, though not in the millions of their subjects,[355] the ancient princes of Judah and Israel. After the reduction of the maritime cities of Laodicea, Tripolis, Tyre, and Askalon, which were powerfully assisted by the fleets of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa, and even of Flanders and Norway, the range of sea coast from Scanderoon to the borders of Egypt was possessed by the Christian pilgrims. If the prince of Antioch disclaimed his supremacy, the counts of Edessa and Tripolis owned themselves the vassals of the king of Jerusalem; the Latins reigned beyond the Euphrates; and the four cities of Hems, Hamah, Damascus, and Aleppo were the only relics of the Mohammedan conquests in Syria.

The laws and language, the manners and titles, of the French nation and Latin church, were introduced into these transmarine colonies. The whole legal militia of the kingdom could not exceed eleven thousand men, a slender defence against the surrounding myriads of Saracens and Turks. But the firmest bulwark of Jerusalem was founded on the knights of the Hospital of St. John, and of the Temple of Solomon; on the strange association of a monastic and military life, which fanaticism might suggest, but which policy must approve. The flower of the nobility of Europe aspired to wear the cross, and to profess the vows of these respectable orders; their spirit and discipline were immortal; and the speedy donation of twenty-eight thousand farms, or manors, enabled them to support a regular force of cavalry and infantry for the defence of Palestine. The austerity of the convent soon evaporated in the exercise of arms; the world was scandalised by the pride, avarice, and corruption of these Christian soldiers. But in their most dissolute period, the knights of the Hospital and Temple maintained their fearless and fanatic character; they neglected to live, but they were prepared to die, in the service of Christ; and the spirit of chivalry, the parent and offspring of the Crusades, has been transplanted by this institution from the Holy Sepulchre to the Isle of Malta.

No sooner had Godfrey de Bouillon accepted the office of supreme magistrate, than he solicited the public and private advice of the Latin pilgrims, who were the best skilled in the statutes and customs of Europe. From these materials, with the counsel and approbation of the patriarchs and barons of the clergy and laity, Godfrey composed the Assize of Jerusalem—a precious monument of feudal jurisprudence.

The justice and freedom of the constitution were maintained by two tribunals of unequal dignity, which were instituted by Godfrey de Bouillon after the conquest of Jerusalem. The king, in person, presided in the upper court, the court of the barons. Of those the four most conspicuous were the prince of Galilee, the lord of Sidon and Cæsarea, and the counts of Joppa and Tripolis, who, perhaps with the constable and marshal, were in a special manner the compeers and judges of each other. But all the nobles who held their lands immediately of the crown were entitled and bound to attend the king’s court; and each baron exercised a similar jurisdiction in the subordinate assemblies of his own feudatories. The trial by battle was established in all criminal cases which affected the life, or limb, or honour, of any person; and in all civil transactions, of or above the value of one mark of silver.

Among the causes which enfranchised the plebeians from the yoke of feudal tyranny, the institution of cities and corporations is one of the most powerful; and if those of Palestine are coeval with the First Crusade, they may be ranked with the most ancient of the Latin world. Many of the pilgrims had escaped from their lords under the banner of the cross; and it was the policy of the French princes to tempt their stay by the assurance of[356] the rights and privileges of freemen. It is expressly declared in the Assize of Jerusalem, that after instituting, for his knights and barons, the court of peers, in which he presided himself, Godfrey de Bouillon established a second tribunal, in which his person was represented by his viscount. The jurisdiction of this inferior court extended over the burgesses of the kingdom; and it was composed of a select number of the most discreet and worthy citizens, who were sworn to judge, according to the laws, of the actions and fortunes of their equals. In the conquest and settlement of new cities, the example of Jerusalem was imitated by the kings and their great vassals; and above thirty similar corporations were founded before the loss of the Holy Land. Another class of subjects, the Syrians, or oriental Christians, were oppressed by the zeal of the clergy, and protected by the toleration of the state. Godfrey listened to their reasonable prayer, that they might be judged by their own national laws. A third court was instituted for their use, of limited and domestic jurisdiction; the sworn members were Syrians, in blood, language, and religion; but the office of the president (in Arabic, of the rais) was sometimes exercised by the viscount of the city. At an immeasurable distance below the nobles, the burgesses, and the strangers, the Assize of Jerusalem condescends to mention the villeins and slaves, the peasants of the land and the captives of war, who were almost equally considered as the objects of property. The relief or protection of these unhappy men was not esteemed worthy of the care of the legislator; but he diligently provides for the recovery, though not indeed for the punishment, of the fugitives. Like hounds, or hawks, which had strayed from the lawful owner, they might be lost and claimed; the slave and falcon were of the same value; but three slaves, or twelve oxen, were accumulated to equal the price of the war-horse; and a sum of three hundred pieces of gold was fixed, in the age of chivalry, as the equivalent of the more noble animal.b

RESULTS OF THE FIRST CRUSADE

As if obeying the impetus it had received, the new state continued the spirit of conquest under Godfrey’s first two successors—Baldwin I (1100-1118) and Baldwin II of Bourg (1118-1131). But after these two reigns decadence began in discord. The atabegs who ruled at Mosul and Damascus took Edessa and massacred its people in 1144. There needed nothing less than this bloody disaster, which left Palestine exposed, to drive Europe to the renewal of crusade.

The First Crusade was very different from the seven others. It kindled all Europe, profoundly stirred the masses, both people and peers, and was the symptom of a great upheaval of sentiments and ideals. Those of the two following centuries had not the same motive. They were almost all conducted by kings who had kept aloof from the first; and even if faith were never absent, politics was often superior.

The Second Crusade felt still a vivid reflection of the spirit of devotion that animated the First; but it was no longer the work of the people but of princes—the emperor Conrad III and King Louis VII of France, who took the cross in spite of the prudent counsels of his minister, Abbé Suger. This Crusade was preached in France and Germany by St. Bernard; but already the zeal was somewhat chilled. A general tax levied on the whole kingdom of France, and on every class—nobles, priests, or peasants—roused much protest; at Sens the people killed the abbé of St. Pierre le Vif, ruler of[357] part of their city, because of an impost he had wished to collect. “The king,” said a contemporary, “started on his way in the midst of curses.” St. Bernard had been offered the command of the expedition, but remembering Peter the Hermit, he refused.e

This Peter the Hermit, who for all his meek and lowly manner had unhinged all Europe and led a huge rabble to the slaughter in Asia Minor, had received an address of thanks in Jerusalem when the city had been taken; and then retiring to his native France had built a monastery at Huy on the Maas, where he lived quietly and died obscurely in 1115, recking nothing of the series of bloody wars that were to follow as the aftermath of his perfervid oratory and fanatic frenzy.a

FOOTNOTES

---

[358]

CHAPTER III. THE SECOND CRUSADE

The enthusiasm of the First Crusade is a natural and simple event, while hope was fresh, danger untried, and enterprise congenial to the spirit of the times. But the obstinate perseverance of Europe may indeed excite our pity and admiration: that no instruction should have been drawn from constant and adverse experience; that the same confidence should have repeatedly grown from the same failures; that six succeeding generations should have rushed headlong down the precipice that was open before them; and that men of every condition should have staked their public and private fortunes on the desperate adventure of possessing or recovering a tombstone two thousand miles from their country. In a period of two centuries after the Council of Clermont, each spring and summer produced a new emigration of pilgrim warriors for the defence of the Holy Land; but the seven great armaments or crusades were excited by some impending or recent calamity; the nations were moved by the authority of their pontiffs and the example of their kings; their zeal was kindled, and their reason was silenced, by the voice of their holy orators; and among these, Bernard, the monk or the saint, may claim the most honourable place.

ST. BERNARD

About eight years before the first conquest of Jerusalem he was born of a noble family in Burgundy; at the age of twenty-three he buried himself in the monastery of Citeaux, then in the primitive fervour of the institution;[359] at the end of two years he led forth her third colony, or daughter, to the valley of Clairvaux in Champagne; and was content till the hour of his death with the humble station of abbot of his own community. A philosophic age has abolished, with too liberal and indiscriminate disdain, the honours of these spiritual heroes. The meanest among them are distinguished by some energies of the mind; they were at least superior to their votaries and disciples; and in the race of superstition, they attained the prize for which such numbers contended. In speech, in writing, in action, Bernard stood high above his rivals and contemporaries; his compositions are not devoid of wit and eloquence; and he seems to have preserved as much reason and humanity as may be reconciled with the character of a saint. In a secular life he would have shared the seventh part of a private inheritance; by a vow of poverty and penance, by closing his eyes against the visible world, by the refusal of all ecclesiastical dignities, the abbot of Clairvaux became the oracle of Europe, and the founder of 160 convents. Princes and pontiffs trembled at the freedom of his apostolical censures; France, England, and Milan consulted and obeyed his judgment in a schism of the church; the debt was repaid by the gratitude of Innocent II; and his successor, Eugenius III, was the friend and disciple of the holy Bernard.

It was in the proclamation of the Second Crusade that he shone as the missionary and prophet of God, who called the nations to the defence of the Holy Sepulchre. At the parliament of Vézelay he spoke before the king; and Louis VII, with his nobles, received their crosses from his hand. The abbot of Clairvaux then marched to the less easy conquest of the emperor Conrad; a phlegmatic people, ignorant of his language, was transported by the pathetic vehemence of his tone and gestures; and his progress from Constance to Cologne was the triumph of eloquence and zeal. Bernard applauds his own success in the depopulation of Europe; affirms that cities and castles were emptied of their inhabitants; and computes that only one man was left behind for the consolation of seven widows. The blind fanatics were desirous of electing him for their general; but the example of the hermit Peter was before his eyes; and while he assured the crusaders of the divine favour, he prudently declined a military command in which failure and victory would have been almost equally disgraceful to his character.b

In the consternation throughout Palestine which the fall of Edessa occasioned, all classes of people beckoned their compatriots in the West. The news of the loss of the eastern frontier of the Latin kingdom reached France at a time peculiarly favourable for foreign war. After having reduced his vassal the count of Champagne to obedience, Louis VII the French king exceeded the usual cruelty of conquerors, and instead of sheathing his sword, when the inhabitants of Vetri submitted, he set fire to a church, to which more than thirteen hundred of them had fled for refuge. His sacrilegious barbarity excited the indignation of the clergy and laity. A fit of sickness calmed his passions; his conscience accused and condemned him, and he resolved to expiate his sins by a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Louis VII was the first sovereign prince who engaged himself to fight under the banner of the cross. The news of the calamities in Palestine quickened his holy resolution, and like other men he was impetuously moved by the eloquence of St. Bernard, the great oracle of the age.

The wish of Louis for a crusade was applauded by Pope Eugenius III. His intention was pronounced to be holy; and Bernard was ordered to travel[360] through France and Germany, and preach a plenary indulgence to those who followed the royal example. Eugenius wrote to the faithful sons of the church, urging them to cross the seas to Palestine. The first crusaders had provoked the wrath of heaven by their dissoluteness and folly; but the new soldiers of Christ ought to travel simple in dress, and disdaining the luxury of falcons and dogs of the chase. As Peter had represented the scandal of suffering the sacred places to remain in the hands of the infidels, the eloquent Bernard thundered from the pulpit the disgrace of allowing a land which had been recovered from pollution again to sink into it. He was admitted to the thrones of princes, as well as to the pulpits of their churches; to public assemblies and to private meetings. In a parliament held at Vézelay, in the season of Easter, 1146, Louis was confirmed in his pious resolve; and having on his knees received the holy symbol, he joined with Bernard in moving the barons and knights to save the sanctuary of David from the hands of the Philistines. No house could contain the multitude; they assembled in the fields and Bernard addressed them from a lofty pulpit. As at the Council of Clermont, so on this occasion shouts of “Deus id vult” rent the skies; the crosses which the man of God had brought with him to the meeting fell far short of the number of enthusiasts; and he therefore tore his simple monkish garment into small pieces, and affixed them to the shoulders of his kneeling converts. The successful incendiary then crossed the Rhine; and every city and village from Constance to Carinthia echoed the call to war.

But the emperor Conrad III made a long and firm denial. As politics prevented the exercise of religious fervour, the preacher endeavoured to impress him with the belief that were he in arms for the kingdom of God, heaven would protect his kingdom in Europe. Still the emperor wanted faith; but when the holy orator, in a moment of peculiar energy, drew an animated picture of the proceedings of the day of judgment, of the punishments which would be inflicted on the idle, and the rewards which would be showered upon the Christians militant, then it was that conviction flashed across the mind of the royal auditor; and the profession was made that the lord of the Germans knew and would perform his duty to the church. Encouraged by this example, the barons and people flew to arms.[50]

Mainz was the rendezvous of the French crusaders, and Ratisbon of those from Germany. The French levies were of priests, of people, and of soldiers; and of the last class the number of men armed with the helmet and coat of mail was seventy thousand. The civil wars of England had been closed by the weakness of all parties; but some of the nobility, restless when not engaged in deeds of blood, joined themselves to the force of Louis. Conrad had an army quite as large and formidable, with a due proportion of light-armed men, and simple pilgrims. The enthusiasm of the crusade realised the dreams of romancers, and heroines as well as heroes had prepared themselves to make war upon the paynim brethren. A considerable troop of women rode among the Germans; they were arrayed with the spear and[361] shield, but (like Virgil’s Camilla) some love of usual delights had mingled itself with the desire of great exploits, for they were remarkable by the splendour of their dress, and the bold leader was called “the golden-footed dame.”[51] The emperor marched through Hungary and solicited the friendship of the Grecian court.

Manuel, the grandson of Alexius, was on the throne, and although like his ancestor he beheld with secret dread the armaments of Europe, yet for the protection of his subjects he entered into a treaty with Conrad for the regular purchase and sale of provisions. There was frequent matter of charge and recrimination between the Greeks and the Germans in the march of the latter to Constantinople; and circumstances occasioned many negotiations between the two emperors. But Conrad apprehended the duplicity of Manuel, and in indignation at the Grecian’s infraction of the treaty relating to intercourse, he crossed the Bosporus without meeting or conferring with the emperor.

Manuel received the king of France as an equal. He met him in the court of his palace, and after mutual embraces conducted him into an apartment, where they sat with equal dignity. In the midst of feasts and public rejoicings the French monarch learned that the emperor and the sultan of Iconium were in correspondence. The impatience of the barons and knights to visit Jerusalem overcame every suggestion to revenge, and made them think that the defence of the Holy Land, and not the destruction of the Greek Empire, was the object for which they had taken up arms. But there were not wanting men who urged that the time was arrived for removing the barrier between Europe and Asia.

DISASTERS OF THE GERMANS

The passage through Bithynia completed, Conrad entered Lycaonia, the heart of the dominions of the Seljuk Turks. The sultan had assembled from every quarter of his states all the troops that could possibly be brought into the field, and the number was so great that the rivers could not satisfy their thirst or the country furnish provisions. The imperial guides conducted the objects of their care either through deserts where the soldiers perished from hunger, or led them into the jaws of the Moslems. In their occasional transactions, the bread which the crusaders purchased was mixed with chalk, and various other cruel frauds were practised by the Greeks. The assaults of the Turks were incessant. The staff of the pilgrim was a poor defence from a scimitar, and the heavily armed Germans could not retreat from the activity of the Tatars. Only a tenth part of the soldiers and palmers that had left the banks of the Danube and the Rhine escaped the arrows of the Moslems, and with their commander secured their retreat to the French army. Louis had been lulled into security by the flattering assurances of Manuel that Conrad, so far from standing in need of succour, had even defeated the Turks and taken Iconium. The French king was lying in camp on the borders of the lake near Nicæa, when some wretched German fugitives arrived with news of the perfidy of the Greeks, and the triumph of the[362] Moslems. The allied monarchs soon met and consulted on the road which the champions of the cross should take. They united their crusaders, turned aside from the path which had been trodden by the feudal princes of Europe, and marched in concert as far as Philadelphia in Lydia; but the Germans had lost their baggage, and on a prospect of new calamities, many returned to Constantinople, and near Ephesus (to which place the army directed its course) the emperor himself embarked, and went to Jerusalem by ship.

THE FRENCH FAILURE

The French recruited themselves on the shores of the Ægean Sea, and pursued their march in an easterly direction. They rejected with disdain an offer of Manuel of a protection from Moslem fury, and they gallantly kept up their course with the usual portion of suffering, till they arrived at the banks of the Mæander. They found there the Turks, who having safely deposited their spoils came to dispute with the Latins the passage of the river. The battle was not of long duration; the French made so great a slaughter of their foe, that the bones of the Moslems were conspicuous for years. The crusaders proceeded in good order and discipline through the town of Laodicea, into the barrier mountains between Phrygia and Pisidia. The vanguard of the army advanced beyond the appointed rendezvous. The rearguard, in which was the king, moved forwards with perfect confidence that the heights before them were in possession of their friends. Their ravenous enemy, who always hovered round them, seized the moment when the ranks of the Christians were divided, and casting aside their bows and arrows, fell upon them with tumultuous rapidity, sword in hand. It was in a defile of the mountains that the Turkish tempest burst on the Latin troops. Rocks ascending to the clouds were above the crusaders, and fathomless precipices beneath them. The French could not recover from the shock and horror of the surprise. Men, horses, and baggage were cast into the abyss. The Turks were innumerable and irresistible. The life of the king was saved more by fortune than by skill. He escaped to an eminence with a few soldiers, and in the deep obscurity of the night made his way to the advanced guard. The snows of winter, deficiency of stores, and the refusal of the Greeks to trade with them, were the evils with which the French had to contend. They marched, or rather wandered, for they knew not the roads, and the discipline of the army was broken. They arrived at Attalia (Adalia),[363] the metropolis of Pamphylia, seated on the sea shore near the mouth of the Cestrus. But the unchristian Greeks refused hospitality to the enemies of the infidel name.

Famine had so dreadfully thinned the ranks of the army, and so many horses and other beasts of burden had perished, that the most sage and prudent among the crusaders advised their companions to turn aside from scenes of desolation, and proceed by sea to Antioch. The king and his soldiers embarked for Antioch. The way-worn pilgrims and the sick were committed to the charge of Thierry, count of Flanders, who was to march with them to Cilicia. But when Louis quitted the harbour, the Turks fell upon the Christians who were left behind, and the escort was found to be feeble and ineffective. The people of Attalia not only declined to open their gates, but even murdered the sick. Every day the Turks killed hundreds of the pilgrims, and as it was evident that flight alone could save the remainder, Thierry escaped by sea. Seven thousand wretched votaries of the cross attempted to surmount the higher difficulties of the land journey to Jerusalem; but the Holy City never opened to their view, and in perishing under Moslem vengeance they thought that the loss of the completion of the pilgrimage was compensated by the glories of martyrdom.

The nobility, the clergy, and people of Antioch received the French king with every demonstration of respect; but no blandishments of persuasion or petulant threats of divorce from his wife Eleanora, could move Louis from his purpose of marching into Palestine. He repaired to the Holy City; entered it in religious procession, while crowds of ecclesiastics and laymen were singing the psalm, “Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord.” His arrival had been preceded by that of the emperor of Germany, the dukes of Saxony and Bavaria, and the ruined German band.

A council was held at Ptolemais, composed of the princes, barons, and prelates of Syria and Palestine, and the new commanders from Europe. The misfortunes of the Edessenes were forgotten, or yielded to higher feelings, for though the recapture of the principality of the Courtenais was the great object of the crusade, yet there were Moslem cities in Syria far more dangerous to Jerusalem than the remote city of Edessa. The decree for a march to Damascus was passed, and the emperor of Germany and the kings of France and Jerusalem brought their troops into the field; but the best disciplined parts of the army were the knights of the Temple and St. John. Eager to relieve Damascus from the yoke under which she had groaned for nearly five centuries, the champions of Christianity soon arrived under her walls. Numerous and of long continuance were the engagements between the Latins and the Syrians. The city was apparently in the power of the crusaders, and the people abandoned themselves to despair. But instead of taking possession of Damascus the Latins anticipated the event and thought only to whom the prize should be given. Much time was wasted in intrigues, and after sustaining for a short time the sallies of reinforcements, and rejecting in a council of war the advice of some unsubdued spirits for an attack on Askalon, the Christian army raised the siege of Damascus, and retrograded to Jerusalem in sorrow and in shame. Conrad soon returned to Europe with the shattered relics of the German host, and his steps were a year afterwards traced by the French king, the queen, and most of the French lords.

Among the few men whose virtues and abilities spread some rays of moral and intellectual light over the twelfth century was Suger, the abbot of the celebrated religious fraternity of St. Denis, in France. Strongly imbued with the superstition of his time, his fondest wish was for the overthrow of[364] the Moslems. As minister of Louis VII, however, he had exposed to his royal master the embarrassment of the state finances, the fierce and menacing aspect of the crown vassals, and other circumstances of a political nature, to deter him from quitting his dominions. But the spirit of romantic devotion in the heir of Charlemagne could not be quenched, and Louis well consulted the interests of his kingdom in delivering the sceptre to the charge of the abbot of St. Denis. After his return from Palestine, the king ardently wished to recross the seas, and by martial achievements to obliterate the memory of former disasters. When all thoughts of a crusade had apparently died away, France was astonished at the appearance of a martial missionary in the person of him who had opposed the second holy war. The clergy of the East implored Suger to restore the fortunes of the Holy Land, knowing that he possessed more credit in France than all the other princes and prelates, and that his piety equalled his authority. Papal benediction was bestowed upon him, though the pope was at first amazed at the enthusiasm of a man nearly seventy years of age; but his influence was exerted in vain. Angry at the timidity of his countrymen, his own courage rose; he resolved to conduct a small army to Palestine himself, and his reliance on the favour of heaven made him hope that the vassals of St. Denis alone would be more powerful than the congregated myriads of Europe. All aspirations for glory were humbled by a fever; he died at St. Denis, and his successor in the abbacy pursued the usual duties of his station, without superadding those of a martial description.c

THE FALL OF THE KINGDOM OF JERUSALEM

The very question that had proved a stumbling-block to the Germano-Roman world, namely, the right of women to succeed to the throne, also kept the knightly ecclesiastical colony of the kingdom of Jerusalem in perpetual unrest. War broke out between Melusina—who, assuming the management of public affairs at the death of her husband Fulk, gave great power into the hands of her cousin, the constable of Manassa—and her son, King Baldwin III, around whom rallied a number of barons, all ill-disposed to acknowledge the new rule. The feud was fought out by the mother and son near the Holy Sepulchre in 1152, with the result that Melusina was obliged to relinquish all her pretensions.

Hodierna, Melusina’s sister, on the other hand, was given guardianship over her youngest son, after the murder of her husband, Raymond I of Tripolis. The remainder of the countship of Edessa passed to Greece, by reason of a pact which assured to the widowed countess and her children a considerable income; Jocelyn II was taken prisoner by the Turkomans and died in captivity. Raymond of Antioch had also been killed while bravely fighting in 1149, and his widow Constantia now became the object of the liveliest contention. It was at first feared that she would listen to the many proposals made to her by Greeks; but when she finally accepted the French knight, Rainald de Chatillon, a struggle broke out between him and the patriarchs, who had hitherto held the preponderance of power, laming the forces of both sides. Under such circumstances there could be as little thought of establishing one solid supremacy and power in the Orient as of accomplishing a like result in France at the same period.

The wonder was that there had actually risen to prominence on the side of the Abbasids and Seljuks, during the late struggles for the possession of[365] Aleppo, Edessa, and Damascus, a well-consolidated might—that of the atabegs of Mosul, who disposed of a particularly warlike element in the Kurds, with whom their borders were overrun from the north. Nur ad-Din vigorously pursued the policy laid down by his father, Zenki. He was by far the more capable and enlightened of the two; since the days of the Omayyads, so historians tell us, there had been no prince so liberal and law-abiding, and there never reigned one more just. Four times each week he sat in judgment. He made no personal use of the state revenues, looking upon them as a sacred trust placed in his hands to be expended for the public good. He was equally zealous in the conduct of the holy war. All the dust that settled on his shoes and garments during his various battles against unbelievers, he caused to be collected in a sack which was to be placed under his head when he was dead. As already related, he conquered Damascus (1154), which was under the rule of a weak prince who had in vain sought safety on the side of the Christians, and took up his residence in the immediate neighbourhood of that kingdom. He was a brave and worthy representative of the Abbasid caliphate, which he had formerly served in the capacity of Emir al-Omara. At times the Christians rallied for a successful feat of arms, and under the sacred symbol of the cross, which after preliminary worship in the king’s tent they gave into the keeping of the archbishop of Tyre, they even inflicted defeat on Nur ad-Din (1158). Also Baldwin III, who died in 1162 at the age of thirty-three, achieved some fame and several victories. He was brave and circumspect—in every way a fit man for the particular kind of warfare he was obliged to carry on. Still it was not in these battles alone that the real issue lay; the result was determined as much by the weakness of the Fatimites in Egypt as by the strength of the atabegs in Syria.

Neither had the power of the Ismailite doctrines, founded on those in circulation before the beginning of the Fatimite caliphate, suffered any diminution; rather it had recently taken on a new form in the most singular and hideous of all religious sects. Who has not heard of the Assassins and of their leader, the Old Man of the Mountain? Unlike the Sunnite caliphate which had been restored to power by the victories of the great Seljuk sultans, the sect founded by the Persian, Hassan, towards the end of the eleventh century, rose to prominence by reason of teachings based on the extremest Ismailite beliefs, and compounded of fanaticism, sensuality, and blind obedience, which raised up men to be assassins and general instruments of terror. Mainly by the agency of that Ridwan of Aleppo who fought with the crusaders before Antioch, and wavered in allegiance between the Abbasids and the Fatimites, there was planted in northwestern Syria a colony of Assassins which, under the rule of a certain sheikh, Al-Jebel, grew to occupy an important place in history—if such can be said of a purely destructive principle. It was by the Assassins that Raymond of Tripolis was slain. But their dagger struck Moslem as well as Christian, Shiite as well as Sunnite, since a foe of their nature lies outside all partisanship—is in fact beyond the pale of any human ordinance.

That the Fatimite caliphate profited nothing by this latest religious movement is apparent from the symptoms of decay that shortly afterward began to be manifest. The caliphs themselves were given over to a life of luxury and disorder, and vizirs, who bore the title of sultan, were constantly engaged in quarrels with each other, in which right was decided by might alone. The conditions were similar to those which preceded the fall of the Abbasid caliphate in the tenth century. In the year 1163 the sultan[366] and vizir Shawer was deposed and supplanted by his rival Dargham, who enjoyed for some time the fruits of his usurpation. But Shawer eventually returned, and with him the emir and Kurd chieftain, Shirkuh, whom Nur ad-Din, regardless of religious differences, had sent to his assistance. Dargham was murdered and Shawer again assumed the sultanate, but he could not reconcile himself to fulfilling the promise he had made the Kurds, that he would pay over to them one third of the revenues of Egypt. To protect himself more fully against his extortionate allies, he besought assistance of Almeric, king of Jerusalem, brother and successor of Baldwin III.

Inheriting the desire of Baldwin I for ascendency in Egypt, Baldwin III had besieged and taken Askalon in 1153. The garrison had defended itself ably, even to the point of driving back a body of Templars that had penetrated within the walls, and the king had reason to believe that all was lost. But the support of the Jerusalem patriarchs enabled him to press the siege, and a successful sally on the part of the knights of St. John, who with their grand master had been particularly active, finally placed Askalon at his mercy. At this the inhabitants, in despair, having received no reinforcements from either Damascus or Egypt, called upon their military commander to surrender. Without doubt Almeric (1162-1173) was the most important of the later kings of Jerusalem. Like Louis VII he was tireless, despite his corpulence, in the hunt and in war, and took no pleasure in any kind of diversion. In theological questions he often revealed an acuteness that brought his prelates to confusion; with a firm hand he held the troublesome barons in subjection, even giving precedence over them to certain newly arrived Franks—Milo de Plancy, for example.

It could escape no one that there was danger to the kingdom in allowing the Kurds of Nur ad-Din to become firmly established in Egypt. Losing no time in reflection, Almeric took decisive steps at once, and fortune so far favoured him that he succeeded in confining the Kurds within Pelusium (1164); he was obliged to grant them a free withdrawal, however, in consequence of domestic troubles that had befallen Nur ad-Din. A Christian knight addressed Shirkuh, who was striding with uplifted axe behind his followers: “Think you we do not mean to keep our pact with you?” “You dare not break it!” was the reply.

No sooner had they returned home than the Kurds began preparations for a second and greater expedition; Shirkuh incited the Sunnites to wrath against the perfidious caliph in Cairo, and in 1167 he set out for Egypt. Almeric also assembled his forces at the same time, and in Egypt[367] the native populations consolidated with the Pullanes in a formal alliance. That the caliph might be encouraged by the support of their presence, the Christian delegates were conducted into the palace. Scarcely could they repress their admiration and astonishment at the wonders that everywhere met their gaze. When they arrived in a splendid hall that was divided in the middle by a curtain embroidered in gold and pearls, the vizir prostrated himself and went through the form of taking a solemn oath; at the conclusion of this ceremony the curtain was drawn aside and the figure of the caliph was revealed. From his golden chair he extended his right hand to the Christian knights, but the hand was enveloped in a veil. Hugo of Cæsarea objected that in entering upon a pact both sides must act with perfect fairness and good faith; whereupon the caliph uncovered his hand, but with exceeding ill grace, as though his royal dignity had been affronted. To the Christian knights was entrusted the defence of the walls and towers of Cairo.

Compelled to abandon his position opposite Cairo on the left bank of the Nile, Shirkuh withdrew his forces in the direction of Upper Egypt. Almeric pursued him hotly at the head of a mixed band of Frankish and oriental troops, such as were never again brought together in that land until the time of Napoleon. The two armies met in the pass of Babein. Shirkuh was about to cross over to the other side of the river with the intention of fleeing into the regions beyond, when a mameluke of Nur ad-Din overtook him and exclaimed: “What, you who rejoice in all the blessings of Islam are about to fly from the enemy? Do you not know that the atabegs will take from the Kurds all the lands they may find on the other side?” Thus it came about that Shirkuh remained where he was, and taking up his position with a picked band of men on the right flank of the main body of his troops, he overcame the king while the latter was making an attack on the enfeebled centre. So hard was Almeric beset that he could scarcely cut his way back to his own forces. He retained sufficient power, however, to surround and harass Alexandria, which Shirkuh had left in the charge of his nephew, Saladin, the son of Eyyub. Shirkuh was induced to conclude a peace, according to the terms of which both sides, Christians as well as Kurds, were obliged to evacuate Egypt. As the price of this concession Shirkuh received from Shawer fifty thousand pieces of gold, while to the Christians, so Abulfeda tells us, were promised a special magistracy in Cairo and an important yearly revenue.

It is well to contemplate closely these events, as they offer not only the final standpoint from which to judge the kingdom of Jerusalem, but the highest and best from which to take cognisance of the entire Christian world of that time in its relation to Islam. The main fact derived by history is that the establishment of the Franks in the Orient was made possible only by the antagonism that subsisted between the Abbasid and Fatimite dynasties; so long as this antagonism continued the colonial kingdom could be upheld, but let it once subside and the whole structure would fall to the ground. At the period of which we write the Cairo caliphate had sunk into a state of impotency and demoralisation; in order to prevent its falling into the hands of the Mohammedans of Syria the kings of Jerusalem must either take forceful possession of Egypt themselves, or must sustain it in its present show of independence by the most rigid political conjunction. For the first course they were far too weak, as the sequel showed, and as might have been expected from a study of the circumstances by which they were surrounded; but for the second they possessed quite sufficient strength, as was evidenced by[368] the successes of Almeric. Indeed in all respects this was the better course to pursue, since by the exercise of a moderate degree of wisdom affairs would doubtless, even in the natural course of events, so have shaped themselves that to the Christian element would gradually fall a peaceful sovereignty over the whole realm of Egypt. What a position in the world would have been gained to the Latin races by such a solution! Entrance into all the Indian waters would have been open to the Italian sea powers, and it was furthermore to be expected that northern Africa, cut off entirely from the powers of the East, would eventually fall into the hands of the Spaniards or of the Sicilian Normans.

It is not to be denied, however, that mankind at that period was not yet ripe to exercise complete ascendency either over the Orient or over any other considerable portion of the world. The religions of both divisions of humanity permitted not the slightest compromise with unbelievers, and the very factors that had brought about the first amazing successes later acted as a check on the progress of their cause towards complete fulfilment. It seemed to be self-evident that no kind of serious alliance could ever permanently subsist between the crusaders and the caliphs; nay, there was something almost against nature in the thought of Christians defending the towers of Cairo on behalf of infidels in a struggle of Moslem against Moslem. Religious antagonism was stronger in the guardians of the Holy Sepulchre than loyalty and good faith.

Almeric united with Manuel of Byzantium,[52] who had already formed a league with the Lombards and the pope, and allowed himself to be drawn into a joint scheme of conquest in Egypt. This union between Greeks and Latins was the more easily effected inasmuch as the king had married a Greek and the emperor a Syrian princess. The idea of the expedition seems to have emanated from Manuel who, in his all-embracing policy, kept a constant watch on both East and West, in search of undertakings that might promise him success. Influence was brought to bear on Almeric to gain his consent by the grand-master of the knights of St. John; but the Templars were strongly opposed to the project, seeing in it a shameful violation of the peace.

Without waiting for the arrival of the Greek forces, the Christians of Jerusalem opened the war in November, 1168. They took Pelusium, and advanced on Cairo—at a very slow rate of progress, to be sure, as they were awaiting ransom for a son of Shawer, whom they had taken prisoner. The ransom was brought them, but at the same time they learned that the invincible Shirkuh had set out from his desert in their direction. Both Shawer and the caliph had overcome their former repugnance and had[369] addressed an appeal for aid to Nur ad-Din. Thus the supporters of the two caliphs came together in a coalition similar to that formed by the Greeks and Latins. The bravest and hardiest Turkomans composed the troops led by Shirkuh and Saladin. Almeric had courageously advanced into the desert to meet them, but Shirkuh passed him by; it was destined that the Franks should depart from Egypt in dishonour. And now fate hurried events on to the climax. Arrived in Jerusalem Shirkuh and Saladin opened hostilities with the sultan, Shawer, who was accused of having plotted to murder the Turkoman emirs. An opportunity was given Saladin to become possessed of the sultan’s person on the occasion of a visit the latter made to the grave of a Moslem saint. The caliph gave his consent to the captive’s execution, and was further persuaded to appoint Shirkuh his vizir.

On the death of Shirkuh, shortly after, Saladin acceded to the vacant post (1169). He looked upon himself as in truth the chief power under Nur ad-Din, who persistently urged him to overthrow the Fatimite caliphate. But Saladin shrewdly withheld compliance[53] until he had obtained complete possession of the capital and had rid himself of all his enemies, even delaying until the Fatimite Aladid, who was still young, fell sick unto death. He died in 1171 and Saladin, who had meanwhile repulsed an attack by Almeric and a Byzantine fleet from Damietta, and torn from the Franks the harbour of Ailah, on the Red Sea, took possession of the entire treasure of the Fatimites and became master over all Egypt.

A momentary advantage accrued to the Christians from this usurpation, inasmuch as a continuance of friendly relations between the new master of the Nile and his supreme chief, the atabeg in Damascus, was not to be thought of. Saladin immediately sought to cut himself loose from all allegiance to Nur ad-Din. That no hostages might be left in the hands of the atabeg ruler, he caused his entire family to come to him in Egypt, giving to his aged father, Eyyub, the post of guardian of his treasure. Nur ad-Din first conceived suspicions as to his subordinate’s fealty when the latter refused to assist him in conquering certain Frankish settlements that guarded the route from Damascus to Egypt. He was stricken by death, however (1174), in the midst of preparations for an expedition that was to punish the faithless emir. Now Saladin’s plans took on wider expansion, and his aspirations soared to greater heights. Nur ad-Din had left behind him but one minor son, Malik as-Salih, and it was his name that appeared on the coins Saladin at first caused to be struck off. But the Syrians were highly dissatisfied with the rule that had succeeded that of Nur ad-Din, and were inclined to welcome Saladin[370] whenever he should present himself among them. Without drawing sword he entered Damascus in 1174, and Emesa, Hama, and Baalbek also fell into his power. Malik as-Salih was allowed to retain Aleppo on condition that he should withdraw from Damascus. At his death (1181) Saladin gained possession of Aleppo and little by little extended his territory as far as Mesopotamia; eventually the entire heritage of Nur ad-Din fell into his hands.

In this manner there arose in the course of a few years a might that, springing as it did from a union of Egypt and Syria, threatened great danger to the Christians, and even placed in question the further existence of the many Frankish colonies that were scattered about the Orient. The forces at the command of the consolidated power were trained to obey the slightest gesture of a single chief, and were saturated with the doctrines of a single religion. Of lateral religious branches there was no longer any question, save as they still survived in the sect of the Assassins of Lebanon, whose leader, the Old Man of the Mountain, occasionally instigated some fresh disturbance. Saladin himself was one day set upon by three assailants, but his strong arm successfully defended his life. He immediately thereafter started out to exterminate the Assassins, and devastated their entire domains, making his name a terror wherever he went. All Saladin’s prowess and success was the outgrowth of a remarkable personality. Like Zenki and Nur ad-Din, he was a devout Mohammedan; it was even his custom to read the Koran to armies about to rush upon each other in battle. He scrupulously made up for all fasts that he missed, and never failed to say the five prayers through to the end. He drank nothing but water, wore garments of harsh wool, and allowed himself to be summoned before the bar of judgment. He personally instructed his children in the tenets of Islam; but his own close observance of religion did not prevent him from unlawfully usurping power. When fortune favoured him, as on the achievement of some brilliant victory, he delighted in exhibiting a certain careless magnanimity that greatly enhanced the majesty of his bearing. In misfortune he was steadfast and patient, never once turning aside from the aim he had in view. He was brave and crafty, contriving to win for himself supporters even among the ranks of his enemies, and he governed his subjects with justice and moderation. As a ruler he possessed all the qualities necessary to accomplish the building up of a state and its conservation in prosperity and power; and to a far greater degree than had the atabegs he became the hero of reconstructed Islam, the man of fate in the destinies of the kingdom of Jerusalem.

Had the Christians then but known how to make the most of the little time that was left them, all might yet have been well; but it is not to be denied that simultaneously with the rise of the new oriental might occurred the rapid and shameful decay of the Christian administration in the East. The western laws of succession which had been transplanted in full force, and which secured the throne to the direct line of descent whether male or female, dealt the finishing blow to the tottering kingdom. In a community of which the head should be above all a military commander, where the commonweal could be secured only by holding the whole state in constant readiness for war, the rule frequently fell into the hands of feeble, incompetent youths, the whole question of succession was repeatedly and violently reopened by the marriages of female heirs to the throne; and regencies were successively established, disputed, and destroyed. There was no permanent, inflexible power to hold in check the inordinate ambition of the[371] knights, and a general lawlessness prevailed that penetrated to every rank of political and religious life.

Almeric died before Nur ad-Din in 1173. He was succeeded by his thirteen-year-old son, Baldwin IV, who was a victim to the terrible disease of leprosy, and up to the time of his early death in 1185 never really came into possession of the rule. During the first part of his reign Raymond II of Tripolis, son of Hodierna, acted as vicegerent, and in 1175 he concluded a truce with Saladin by which he bound himself not to oppose the latter in any of his struggles for the succession of Nur ad-Din. It was this act that lost for Raymond all his authority in the realm. The knights now looked towards the West for a ruler more to their liking, and Longaspada, marquis of Montferrat, arrived among them in answer to their summons in October, 1176, shortly afterward marrying Sybilla, the eldest sister of the minor king. He had firmly established himself in the respect and confidence of all when his untimely death occurred (1177). His successor was Philip of Flanders and Vermandois, a former adversary of Henry II of England and an adherent of Becket, who was obliged to make this pilgrimage to Jerusalem in expiation of certain violent acts he had committed. There was some reluctance felt at placing the government in the hands of this prince, the general opinion being that only one who was bound by self-interest to the kingdom could effectually serve it. Philip was willing either to assume the authority himself or to relinquish it into the hands of the count of Bethune, provided the latter would cede to him certain possessions in the vicinity. The project had been formed of organising, in alliance with the Greeks, an expedition against Saladin; but Philip proved to be totally inadequate to the command of such an enterprise, and returned home without having performed a single act of moment.

A prince who fulfilled in all respects the requirements of the knights next assumed the vicegerency, Rainald of Chatillon, who had taken part in the siege of Askalon, and was afterwards chosen as husband and the guardian of her son by Constantia, widow of Raymond of Antioch. In this noble were represented all the warlike tendencies of the times. He defeated Saladin in November, 1178, near Askalon, as he had only a short time previously defeated Saladin’s brother, Turan Shah, near Damascus. A breathing space fell to the kingdom after these victories that was utilised to construct near Paneas, on the Jordan, a citadel which was entrusted to the Templars to defend. Near this very place, however, Saladin achieved a victory over the Christians in a battle wherein fell the grand master of the Templars, Odo de St. Amand. On his death Saladin laid siege to the stronghold and carried it by storm. The defeated Templars sought death by remaining behind in the burning citadel, plunging into the waters of the Jordan, or precipitating themselves from the top of a steep cliff.

About this time the bishops of the oriental Latin church began to assume prominence in the Council of Lateran; among them being Archbishop William of Tyre, historian of the kingdom, who in chronicling the defeat of the Templars employed the language of the Bible: “The Lord, their God, departed from them.” The eyes of all were now turned towards the West. Nothing would have so fully met the aspirations of Alexander III as another crusade, entered upon in the spirit that had marked that of Urban II; shortly before his death he even caused a petition to be drawn up urging the advisability of such an undertaking. It was then generally assumed that in case the two great western monarchs, the kings of England and France, should again decide to invade the Orient, they could count on the support[372] and assistance of the emperor Manuel, who had maintained friendly relations with the Christians of Syria while engaging in fresh wars with the Seljuks of Asia Minor. Most reluctantly had he given up the expedition against Egypt, even after Saladin had made himself master of the land; he could not have been induced to do so at all, in fact, had not the knights of Jerusalem been so tardy in rendering aid. Unfortunately for the Christian cause he died in the year 1180; conditions in the West at that time were also unfavourable to the undertaking of any important enterprise, Frederick I being deeply engaged in war with Henry the Lion and in negotiations for a treaty with the Lombards while the sons of Henry II kept France and England in a state of constant turmoil. Thus the kingdom of Jerusalem, being deprived of all hope of outside aid, was thrown completely on its own resources.

Life was not utterly intolerable there, nor was hope definitively abandoned so long as Saladin was kept from entering into possession of the entire inheritance of Nur ad-Din. The knights still gained an occasional victory over him, as in the plain of Belveir and Ferbelet in 1182; and he was compelled to raise the siege of Berytus at the approach of the Christian troops. The daring Rainald de Chatillon even succeeded in his bold attempt to reconquer the harbour of Ailah, on the Mediterranean sea. The Latin fleet proceeded thence to the coast of Arabia, where it threatened Mecca and Medina, but was finally overcome near Haura, and the knights were slain in a battle with the Arab prophet. By this defeat Ailah was again lost to Jerusalem. Brave to the point of foolhardiness as was Rainald de Chatillon in his undertakings against Saladin, and knightly as was the spirit by which he was moved, he failed to achieve any serious result for the cause to which he was devoted.

The affairs of the opposite side now took a decisive turn. In 1181 Malik as-Salih, prince of Aleppo and Nur ad-Din’s son, had died, leaving no kinsman worthy to succeed him. Imad ad-Din had essayed to fill the difficult post of ruler, but was totally incompetent, and when Saladin marched against him in 1183 he surrendered Aleppo without a struggle, and made no attempt to regain any of the fortresses that had already been taken from him. Saladin made his formal entry into Aleppo in June, 1183. He was universally accepted as the bravest and mightiest warrior that had ever fought on the side of Islam, and religious fervour, once more risen to great height among the Mohammedans, further aided to smooth all difficulties from his path.

In contrast to this success disaster followed disaster in the Frankish camp. In 1185 Baldwin IV succumbed to his fatal malady, and was succeeded[373] by his nephew, Baldwin V, the son of Sybilla and of William Longaspada, who was but five years old. As if this misfortune were not enough, Sybilla espoused in second marriage, contrary to the wishes of all her advisers, a certain knight, Guy de Lusignan, of an ancient and noble family of Poitou, whom no one believed capable of successfully defending the kingdom in case of need.[54]

At this juncture Raymond of Tripolis again assumed the vicegerency, and as before held a compact with Saladin to be the only means by which he could preserve authority over the realm. A truce was concluded on the only terms possible—the payment by Raymond of a certain tribute. A fresh disturbance arose when Sybilla gave the crown, which she had claimed for herself on the death of Baldwin V in 1186, over to her husband, Guy de Lusignan. This was done in direct opposition to Raymond, who had planned to usurp the crown himself, and endangered his newly concluded pact with Saladin. While Guy de Lusignan, at the head of the whole body of knighthood which had gone unhesitatingly over to the side of the rightful heiress, was preparing to attack Raymond at Tiberias, the latter appealed for aid to Saladin, who sent him a band of Turkish horsemen. It had come, then, to this, that a master Templar was obliged to fly to Saladin in his distress, and march out, at the head of an army of infidels, to do battle against his fellow Templars of Jerusalem! All bonds of honour and tradition were severed at a single blow. The clergy made itself particularly obnoxious at this crisis, being incited thereto by the patriarch Heraclius of Jerusalem. Thus, eaten up by corruption from within and left by its natural supporters in the West to face alone an enemy that was practically all-powerful, the kingdom that had once given such rich promise for the future was now tottering helplessly to its fall.

Saladin, standing ready to seize the first favourable opportunity, had some show of justice on his side in choosing the present crisis as the most suitable for attack, since Rainald de Chatillon, now in command of certain citadels on the other side of the Jordan, had recently, in flagrant breach of the truce, fallen upon and plundered a passing caravan in which was the mother of the sultan. After in vain demanding indemnity of Rainald, Saladin rallied all his forces for another great sacred war, and at head of countless warriors made forcible irruption into Galilee.

As on many previous occasions the Christian army again assembled near the spring of Saffuria. The grand master of the Templars had contributed an important sum, sent him by Henry II of England, toward the preparations for war, and Count Raymond of Tripolis was present in person. Once[374] more the holy cross of Jerusalem was worshipped by the Christian army on the eve of battle. The very first day’s operations were disastrous, however, as the army, impelled by the knights, hurried to the relief of beleaguered Tiberias. On the evening of July 4th, 1187, after a battle that brought victory to neither side, Saladin’s light horse drove the Christians back to a parched and arid eminence in the neighbourhood of Hittin, named by tradition as the scene of Christ’s sermon on the mount. Here, at the close of a torrid summer day, they were obliged to pass the night in the tortures of thirst. On July 5th Saladin resumed his attack on the enfeebled, exhausted Christians, of whom very few survived the battle that ensued. Count Raymond escaped, thanks to the clemency of the Saracens, who opened their ranks before him and his body of knights, as before one who had once been their friend. King Guy and as many of his followers as had not been slain, together with the holy cross, fell into the hands of Saladin, who this time knew no mercy. All the captured Templars and knights of St. John were put to death, while with his own hand the angry monarch struck down Rainald de Chatillon, the perjured violator of the truce.d

MOSLEM ACCOUNTS OF THE BATTLE OF TIBERIAS

Imad ad-Din, the Moslem historian, who took part in the battle, remarks with astonishment that as long as the Christians kept in the saddle they were unharmed, for they were covered from head to foot with a protecting mail woven of iron rings; but when the horse fell, the rider was lost. “That battle,” adds the writer, “took place on a Saturday. The Christians, like lions at the beginning of the fray, were as scattered lambs at the end. Of many thousands, but a small number survived. The battle-field was covered with the dead and dying. I myself walked over Mount Hittin; it was a horrible spectacle. I saw all that a happy nation had done to a miserable people. I saw the condition of their leader—who could describe it? I saw severed heads; dull, dead eyes; dust-covered bodies, twisted limbs; severed arms; crushed bones; gashed and bloody necks; broken thighs; feet no longer joined to the leg; bodies in two pieces; torn lips and split foreheads. On seeing their faces strewn over the ground and covered with blood and wounds, I recalled these words of the Koran: “The infidel shall say ‘What am I but dust!’ What sweet odour is exhaled from this victory!”

After these reflections, which show well the Arab taste, the writer presents another picture: “The tent ropes,” he says, “did not suffice to bind the prisoners. I saw thirty or forty men bound by the same rope; I saw one or two hundred of them placed together and guarded by a single man. These warriors, who formerly exhibited extraordinary prowess and enjoyed might and power, now with lowered brows and naked bodies were indeed a miserable sight. Counts and Christian lords had become the prey of the hunter, the knights that of the lion. Those who had humiliated others were humbled in their turn; the free man was in irons. Those who accused the truth of falsehood and treated the Koran as imposture had fallen into the hands of the true believers.”

After the battle Saladin retired to his tent and caused King Guy and the principal prisoners to be brought before him. It was his will that the king be seated at his side; and as the prince was suffering from thirst he had melted snow brought to him. The king, after drinking, offered the cup to[375] Rainald, but Saladin cried: “It is not I who have asked that wretched man to drink; I am in no way bound to him.” In fact, according to Imad ad-Din’s statement, it was the custom with the Arabs never to kill a prisoner to whom drink or food had been offered. Now Saladin had on two occasions vowed to kill Rainald did the lord of Karak ever fall into his hands—the first, when the knight planned to attack Mecca and Medina; the second, when he captured a caravan in times of peace. The sultan turned to Rainald and in terrible tones reproached him with these two deeds; then rushed upon him with uplifted sword. Following his example the emirs threw themselves upon Rainald and severed head from body. The trunk rolled to the feet of the king, who at the sight trembled in great fear; but Saladin hastened to reassure him and promised to respect his life.

Imad ad-Din relates later that what had most angered Saladin against Rainald was that on the occasion of the above-mentioned seizure of the Moslem caravan he called in jest to his captives to invoke Mohammed to see whether the prophet would come to their assistance, and that before killing him the sultan said to him: “Well, how does it seem to thee? Have I not sufficiently avenged Mohammed for thy outrages?” Finally, adds Imad ad-Din, he proposed to Rainald to become a Mohammedan; the latter refused, saying that he preferred to die. Imad ad-Din relates on his own side that when Saladin reproached Rainald with his perfidies and bad faith, the lord replied by interpreter that such was the custom of princes and that he in this respect had but followed the beaten path.

Finally the sultan had the king brought to Damascus, the captive lords with him. With regard to the Templars and Hospitallers, Ibn al-Atir relates that the sultan collected all he had in one place and cut off their heads. He ordered also all those in his army who had any belonging to these religious orders in their hands to put them to death; then judging that the soldiers would not be sufficiently generous to make this sacrifice, he offered fifty pieces of gold for each Templar or Hospitaller surrendered to him. Two hundred of these warriors who were brought to him were at once decapitated. What led the sultan to these extreme measures was that the Templars and Hospitallers made war by profession upon Islam and were its most cruel enemies. Thus Abul-Faraj in his Syrian Chronicle puts on this occasion these words into Saladin’s mouth: “Since killing when it can be turned to the good of their religion seems to them so sweet a thing, let us kill them in their turn.” Saladin sent also to his lieutenant in Damascus ordering to be put to death all the knights held in that city, whether they were his own property or that of others; and this was done.

We read in Imad ad-Din, an eye-witness, that during the massacre of the knights Saladin looked on with smiling countenance and that the victims were sunk in hopeless despair. The Moslem army was drawn up in battle array, the emirs in two rows. Some of the executioners performed their duty, adds the author, with a degree of skill that brought deserved praises; some, however, refused to act and left it to their companions. Before beheading, a proposition was made to the prisoners to embrace Islamism but the opportunity was taken by a very small number.

Such is the manner in which the Arabian chroniclers describe the battle of Tiberias. The compiler of The Two Gardens gives several letters written on that occasion. We read in one of them, sent to Baghdad, that of the forty-five thousand men composing the Christian army scarcely one thousand survived, and since one poor Mohammedan soldier, having taken a prisoner, exchanged him for a pair of sandals, posterity may know that the[376] number of prisoners was so great that they were sold for footgear. Imad ad-Din says in another place that all Islam rejoiced in this victory which was but the prelude to the conquest of Jerusalem and the source of greater triumphs.e

THE FALL OF JERUSALEM

A panic terror now overspread the land, and under its resistless impulse all hastened to place themselves in subjection to the conqueror. Even the most strongly fortified coast towns fell one after the other; Tyre, Tripolis, and Antioch alone upheld their independence. Askalon demanded as the price of its surrender the release of the captive king. Jerusalem held out in its own defence a few days longer; but what could the few knights that remained avail against an enemy so mighty? On the 2nd of October, 1187, Saladin took formal possession of the Christian capital, to shouts of “Allah akbar!” instead of the “Christ victorious!” that had been heard in former times.d

Jerusalem became the refuge for such of the Christians as had escaped the swords or the chains of the Turks. One hundred thousand people are said to have been in the place; but so few were the soldiers, and so feeble was the government of the queen, that the Holy City was no object of terror. Saladin declared his unwillingness to stain with human blood a spot which even the Turks held in reverence, as having been sanctified by the presence of many of God’s messengers. He offered the people, on condition of the surrender of the city, money and settlements in Syria. Prudence suggested the acceptance of this offer, but, clinging to that feeling of superstition which had given birth to the holy wars, the Christians declared that they would not resign to the infidels the place where the Saviour had died. Saladin was indignant at this rejection of his kindness, and swore to enter the place sword in hand, and retaliate the dreadful carnage which the Franks had made in the days of Godfrey de Bouillon. The people cast their eyes on Balean of Ibelin as their commander. The veteran organised the forces, and put arms into the hands of the citizens.

During fourteen days there were various engagements; but the Christians, though brave to desperation, could never destroy the military engines of the Moslems. At the end of fourteen days the Latins discovered that the walls near the gate of St. Stephen’s were undermined. From that moment the defence of the city was abandoned; the clergy prayed for the miraculous protection of heaven, the soldiers threw down their arms and crowded into the churches. The consternation was augmented by the discovery of a correspondence between some Greeks that were in the place and the Moslems. The Latins then recollected the proffered clemency of Saladin, and a deputation of them implored a renewal of it. But he urged the force of the oath which he had taken, and that it was ridiculous to capitulate for a fallen town. “But,” said he, “if you will surrender the city to me, I will behave to you with mercy, and allow you to redeem the inhabitants.”

After some deliberation, the Christians resolved to trust the generosity of the conqueror. Saladin stipulated that the military and nobles should be escorted to Tyre, and that the Latin population should become slaves, if they were not ransomed at the rate of ten crowns of gold for a man, five for a woman, and one for a child. After four days had been consumed by the miserable inhabitants in weeping over and embracing the Holy Sepulchre and other sacred places, the Latins left the city and passed through[377] the enemy’s camp. Children of all ages clung round their mothers, and the strength of the fathers was used in bearing away some little portion of their household furniture. In solemn procession the clergy, the queen, and her retinue of ladies followed. Saladin advanced to meet them, and his heart melted with compassion, when they approached him in the attitude and with the air of suppliants. The softened warrior uttered some words of pity, and the women, encouraged by his sympathising tenderness, declared that one word of his would remove their distress.

It is the generous remark of an enemy that Saladin was in nothing a barbarian but in name. With courteous clemency he released all the prisoners whom the women requested, and loaded them with presents. This action, worthy of a gentle and Christian knight, was not the consequence of a transient feeling of humanity; for when he entered the city of Jerusalem, and heard of the tender care with which the military friars of St. John treated the sick, he allowed ten of the order to remain in their hospital till they could complete their work of humanity.

The infidels were once more established in Jerusalem. The great cross was taken down from the church of the sepulchre, and for two days dragged through the mire of the streets. The bells of the churches were melted, and the floors and walls of the mosque of Omar were purified with Damascene rose-water. Prayers and thanksgivings were offered to heaven for the victory; all individual merit was forgotten, and the conquest of Jerusalem was attributed to the bounty of God, and his desire for the universal influence of Islamism. Askalon, Laodicea, Gabala, Sidon, Nazareth, Bethlehem—all those places and their territories fell when their great support was gone, and Tyre was almost the only town of consequence which remained to the Christians.

Saladin attacked it with all his efforts, but the spirit of freedom triumphed over the thirst of conquest, and the Moslems were necessitated to raise the siege. Some time after the capitulation of Askalon, Guy de Lusignan, the grand master of the Templars, and others obtained their liberty; and the husband of Sybilla solemnly renounced to Saladin his title to the kingdom of Jerusalem. The unprincipled Guy took the road for Tyre, and announced his resolve to enter the city as sovereign lord.

After the fall of Jerusalem, Saladin carried his conquering army into the principality of Antioch. Five and twenty towns submitted, and Antioch itself became tributary to the Moslems. The victories of Saladin and the loss of Jerusalem were melancholy contrasts to those hopes of the triumphs of Christianity over Islamism which the Council of Clermont had held out to Europe. In the eighty-eight years that the crusaders possessed the Holy City, peace seldom dwelt about her walls; surrounded by numerous hostile nations, she was in a continual siege, and as great a number of her wars were undertaken for the maintenance of her existence as for the purposes of conquest. In the time of Godfrey de Bouillon, Asia was in a state of more than usual imbecility. The Arabian and Tatarian storms were spent, the caliphs were pontiffs rather than sovereign princes, and the great empire of their predecessors was dismembered and scattered.

But states which are formed by arms, not by policy, are as quick in their rise as rapid in their decay, and ruin and disorder are the scenes of ambition. The passions and abilities of the enterprising lords of Syria raised several powerful governments; the hostile aspect of the Moslems increased in terror when the imperial and royal crowns of Germany and France were broken; and the crescent triumphed over the cross when Saladin united and led the[378] Moslem nations to the conquest of Jerusalem. In the strength of body, and personal and military prowess, the Turks and the Franks were equal; but the Turks were in multitudes, the Franks were few; and as the twelfth century was an age of war rather than of policy, the Latins did not by intellectual superiority raise themselves above their enemies. The Christians scrupled not to break treaties[55] with the Moslems; they never attempted to conciliate the foe, or to live in terms of large and liberal intercourse. Except in the case of Egypt, they allowed the Saracenian nations to unite, without making any endeavour to break their force; and they were too proud and too ignorant to win any members to their cause from the great confederacy of atabegs. Conciliation could only be the result of weakness; a tender pitying forbearance of error was held a criminal indifference by armed saints. The Moslem contempt of infidels was not more sincere than was the hatred which the Christians felt for the supposed enemies of God.c

FOOTNOTES

---

[379]

CHAPTER IV. THE THIRD CRUSADE

Europe rang with invectives against the holy Bernard, when the thousands of men whom his eloquence and miracles had roused to arms perished in the rocks of Cilicia. A general or a statesman would have pointed out errors in the policy or conduct of the crusaders; but the preacher sheltered himself under the usual defence of impostors, and declared that the sins of the people had merited divine punishment, and that the men of his day resembled in morals the Hebrews of old, who perished in the journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. This language was justly felt to be cruel and insulting; it did not exculpate the saint in the opinion of the world, and the nations of the West were not again disposed to make religious wars the common concern of Christendom. In the third council of the Lateran, which met twenty years after the return to Europe of Louis and Conrad, the policy of King Almeric had been applauded; Egypt was more dreaded than Syria, and the possession of Damietta was held out as the object to which all the efforts of the Christians should tend.[56] The clergy called on the world to arm, but the recollection of misery was too fresh, and the decrees of the council were heard of with sullenness and discontent. Louis, however, always cherished the hope of returning to the Holy Land, and of reviving his faded glory; and at length he found his wishes met by a brother sovereign. Since virtue was his policy as well as his duty, Henry II in the height of his disputes with Thomas à Becket had professed great sanctity;[380] and following the example of the French king, he and his barons commanded that for one year a tax of two-pence, and for four subsequent years a tax of a penny in the pound should be levied on the movables of the people of England. Among the deeds of virtue which washed from Henry the guilt of Becket’s murder was the supporting of two hundred knights Templar in Palestine for a year, and an agreement with the pope to go and fight the infidels in Asia, or in Spain, for thrice that time if his holiness should require it. In the year 1177, Henry and Louis agreed to travel together to the Holy Land. But the English monarch was prudent and fond of peace, and the illness and subsequent death of the French king terminated the project.

The count of Tripolis, while regent of Jerusalem, endeavoured to strengthen his kingdom by new draughts of men from Europe. The importance of the embassy which he sent to the West was apparent from the dignity of the legates, for they were the patriarch of Jerusalem and the grand masters of the Templars and Hospitallers.

While fanaticism was rekindling the torch of religious war, news arrived in the West of the fall of Jerusalem into the hands of the infidels. The event was felt as a calamity from one end of Europe to the other. Nothing could exceed the terror which seized the court of Rome. In the moment of weakness and humiliation, the cardinals acknowledged the dignity and the force of virtue. They resolved to take no bribes in the administration of justice, to abstain from all luxury of living and splendour of dress, to go to Jerusalem with the scrip and staff of simple pilgrims, and never to ride on horseback while the ground of their Saviour was trodden under the feet of the pagans. Pope Urban III died about this period; and his death, like every direful event of the time, was attributed to grief at the intelligence of the Saracenian victories. William, archbishop of Tyre, our great guide in history, was one of the messengers of the news; and his friend, Gregory VIII, successor of Urban, not only endeavoured to deprecate the wrath of heaven by ordaining fasting and prayer throughout Christendom, but issued a bull for a new crusade, with the usual privileges to the crusaders.

The emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, summoned a council at Mainz for the purpose of considering the general propriety of a new crusade. Prelates and barons were unanimous in the wish for it, and William of Tyre, and Henry, bishop of Albano, legates of the papacy, arrived at the assembly in time to confirm and approve its holy resolve. The emperor, and his son the duke of Swabia, the dukes of Austria and Moravia, and sixty-eight temporal and spiritual lords, were fired with the same enthusiasm.

At the solicitation of the archbishop of Tyre, Philip Augustus, king of France, and Henry II, king of England, met at a place between Trie and Gisors, in Normandy, February, 1188, in order to deliberate on the political state of the times. The prelate of the eastern Latin church appeared, and pleaded the cause of religion before the two monarchs. So pathetic was his description of the miseries of the Latins in Syria, so touching were his reflections on those who engaged in petty national wars, when even the stones of the temple called on all people to avenge the cause of God, that Philip and Henry wept, embraced, and vowed to go together to the Holy Land. They received the cross from the hands of the archbishop. The count of Flanders entered into their intentions. They agreed that the French crusaders should wear red crosses, the English should be indicated by white ones, and the Flemish by green.

[381]

THE SALADIN TITHE

One opinion and one feeling influenced every breast; and, by universal consent, a tax similar everywhere in name and in nature was imposed on those who would not be crossed. This imposition was called the Saladin tithe; it was to last for one year; and it extended both to movable and unmovable property. Persons who actually assumed the cross were not only exempted, but were even allowed to take the fiscal part of their tenants’ property. If the collectors of the tithe were dissatisfied with what a man offered to pay, they were authorised to appoint four or six men of his parish to make an assessment. The crusaders, too, might mortgage their land for three years, and the mortgagee should receive the rents even to the prejudice of former creditors. The English council forbade the pilgrims from sensual pleasures,[57] from all manner of gaming, and from the luxury of dressing in ermine and sables. Henry wrote to the king of Hungary and the emperor of Constantinople requesting a safe passage for his troops. The request was granted.

Though ships continually sailed from England and France, bearing martial pilgrims to the Holy Land, the ambition and restlessness of Philip Augustus, and of Prince Richard, diverted the government and the great body of the people from the salvation of Palestine. The ignominious peace which England was compelled to make with France, and his mental agony at the rebellion and ingratitude of his sons, brought on the death of the English monarch (July, 1189). The love of military honour inflamed the French king, and the bold, ardent, and valiant Richard Cœur de Lion had more of the warlike spirit than of the religious feelings of the age. None of the principles which originally caused the Crusades influenced the actions of either.

So eager was Richard to equip a large military force, that he sold the crown lands, and offices of trust and dignity were no longer to be acquired by desert or favour. The king of Scotland obtained for ten thousand marks Richard’s renunciation of the fortresses of Roxburgh and Berwick, and of the claims of England on the allegiance of Scotland. Richard crossed the channel in December, and soon after Christmas met his brother sovereign. The monarchs renewed their protestations of perpetual friendship, and swore that in case of necessity they would defend each others’ territories with all the warmth of self-interest. If either of the princes should die during the Crusade, the survivor was to use his men and money for the accomplishment of the great design. The period of departure was deferred from Easter to the ensuing midsummer. During his stay in Normandy, Richard made some singular laws for regulating the conduct of the pilgrims in their passage by sea. Murder was to be punished by casting into the water the deceased person, with the murderer tied to him. He that drew his sword in anger should lose his hand. If a man gave another a blow, he was to be thrice immersed; an ounce of silver was the penalty for using opprobrious language. A thief was to have boiling pitch and feathers put upon his head, and was to be set on shore at the first opportunity.

Philip Augustus received the staff and scrip at St. Denis, and Richard at Tours (June, 1190). They joined their forces at Vézelay; the number was computed at one hundred thousand soldiers, and the march to Lyons was[382] conducted in union and with harmony. At that city the monarchs parted; the lord of France pursued the Genoese road; his noble compeer that of Marseilles, and Sicily was named as the rendezvous.

BARBAROSSA’S CRUSADE AND DEATH

The heroic Frederick Barbarossa was among the first of those whose grief rose into indignation after the fall of Jerusalem. In his letters to the sacrilegious Saladin, he demanded restitution of the city, and threatened him in the event of non-compliance to pour into Asia all the military force of the German states. But the triumphant infidel replied that he would oppose his Turkomans, his Bedouins, and Syrians to the German hordes. Tyre, Tripolis, and Antioch, he continued, were the only places which at that time belonged to the Christians, and if those cities were resigned to him, he would restore the true cross, and permit the people of the West to visit Jerusalem as pilgrims. Germany was indignant at this haughty reply; all the powers took up arms against the man who had defied them; but in prudent remembrance of the disorders and calamities which popular impatience had occasioned in the First and Second Crusades, an imperial edict was issued, that no one should go who could not furnish his own viaticum for a twelvemonth. The consecrated standards of the German princes were surrounded by innumerable hosts of crusaders, drawn out of every class of life, from honourable knighthood down to the meanest vassalage. Their emperor conducted them from Ratisbon, their rendezvous, through the friendly Hungarian states; but when he reached the territories of the great lord of the East, he had to encounter the hostility of a violent yet timid foe.

The emperor Isaac Angelus displayed both enmity and cowardice. He did not deny the Germans the liberty to purchase provisions, but in his communications with Frederick he carefully avoided giving him imperial titles; and the Greek governors were perplexed by one day receiving orders to preserve the fortifications of their towns, and at another time by commands for their destruction, lest they should become stations of the Germans. Barbarossa marched with prudence and humanity. In his indignation at the haughtiness and duplicity of Isaac, he generally spared the people, and passed the Hellespont without having deigned to enter the imperial city. He entered the territories of the Mussulmans in triumph, and not only defeated the Turks in a general engagement, but took Iconium. The sultan then repented of his perfidy, and with the independent emirs of Asia Minor, deprecated the further vengeance of the Germans. They continued their march with more honour and dignity[383] than had ever accompanied the early crusaders, but they were deprived by death of their venerable hero. It was in the spring of the year that they passed the Isaurian mountains, from which issues the small river of the Calycadnus. In this stream Frederick bathed, but his aged frame could not sustain the shock.[58] His son, the duke of Swabia, was a brave and experienced general, yet the death of the emperor so much revived the courage of the Saracens, that the course of the Christians was continually harassed. Saladin had been compelled to withdraw most of his soldiers from Antioch, and the Germans had little difficulty in renewing a Christian government in that city.

In the autumn of 1190, the duke of Swabia arrived at Acre, and importance was given to the German force by the formation of a Teutonic order of knighthood. The Vatican confirmed the establishment; Pope Celestine III gave it the rule of St. Augustine for its general law, and accorded to it the privileges which distinguished the other military fraternities. The service of the poor and sick, and the defence of the holy places, were the great objects which the pope commanded them to regard; and their domestic economy was to be preserved by chastity and equal participation of property. They were divided into three classes, knights, priests, and serving brothers. All the members were to be Germans, and those of the first class could only be men of noble birth and extraction. The order of the Teutonic knights of the house of St. Mary in Jerusalem was their title, and their dress was a white mantle with a black cross, embroidered with gold.

THE SIEGE OF ACRE OR PTOLEMAIS (1189-1191 A.D.)

While the kings of England and France were marshalling their hosts for a foreign war, the Christians in the Holy Land slowly recovered from their panic, and joined Lusignan. Greeks, Latins, Syrians, Templars, and Hospitallers, emerged from their places of secrecy, burning for revenge on the infidel spoliators. Acre had opened its gates to the conqueror a few days after the battle of Tiberias, and that city, by reason of its situation and magnitude, was worthy the bravest efforts of its former lords. The sea washed its fortifications on the north and west; a noble pier defended the port from the storms and the enemy; and the city on the land side was fortified by double walls, ditches, and towers.b

GEOFFREY DE VINSAUF’S ACCOUNT OF ACRE

If a ten-years’ war made Troy celebrated; if the triumph of the Christians made Antioch more illustrious, Acre will certainly obtain eternal fame, as a city for which the whole world contended. In the form of a triangle, it is narrow on the western side, while it extends in a wider range towards the east, and full a third part of it is washed by the ocean on the south and west. The port, which is not so convenient as it should be, often deceives and proves fatal to the vessels which winter there; for the rock which lies[384] over against the shore, to which it runs parallel, is too short to protect them from the fury of the storm. And because this rock appeared a suitable place for washing away the entrails, the ancients used it as a place for offering up sacrifices, and on account of the flies which followed the sacrificial flesh, the tower which stands above it was called the Tower of Flies.

There is also a tower called the Cursed, situated on the wall which surrounds the city; and if we are to credit common report, it received its name because it is said that the pieces of silver for which Judas betrayed his Lord, were made there. The city, then named Ptolemais, was formerly situate upon Mount Turon, which is close to the city, whence, by an error of antiquity, some call Acre Ptolemais. There is a hill called the Mosque, near Mount Turon, where the ancients say is the sepulchre of Memnon; but by whose kind offices he was brought thither, we have learned neither by writing nor by hearsay. The river which flows by the city is named Belus, and although its bed is narrow, and not deep, Solinus has rendered it celebrated by numbering it amongst the wonders of the world as being enriched with glassy sand. For there was a certain sandy foss, the sand of which supplied materials for making glass; these, if taken out, were altogether useless; but, if let in, from the secret virtue of the place assumed a glassy nature.

Not far from the river is pointed out a low rock near the city, at which it is said that the three divisions of the world, Asia, Europe, and Africa meet; and though it contains separately the other parts of the world, the place itself, dependent on none, is distinct from and independent of all three. Mount Carmel rises aloft on the southern side of the city, where Elijah the Tishbite is known to have had a habitation of modest cost, as his cave still testifies; but although we are often wont in a description to wander away to the pleasant parts of the circuit, we must at present overlook the attractions of the surrounding places, while we turn our attention to the course of the war.g

When Richard and Philip Augustus reached the Holy Land, the siege of Acre had lasted twenty-two months. The most patient attention would be exhausted by a minute detail of the operations of that period, and a liberal curiosity will be satisfied by a notice of the chief and characteristic circumstances.

So perfect was the self-security of Saladin, that he did not attempt to overwhelm the foe; and when he at length found the necessity of personally attempting the relief of his city, the force of the king of Jerusalem was appallingly numerous. The people of France and England could not wait the tardy march of their organised armies; they answered with impatience the signals of distress which Palestine hung out; indeed every country of Europe poured forth its population with disorderly rapidity, and Lusignan was at one time the commander of one hundred thousand soldiers. The Christians were encamped on the plain to the south of Acre, and the general station of Saladin was near the town and mountain of Kharuba, still further to the south. Among the bravest of the Christian lords were the count of Champagne, the duke of Gelderland, the landgraf of Thuringia, and James d’Avesnes. Many of the clergy wore the casque and the cuirass; the archbishops of Pisa and Ravenna, the bishops of Salisbury, Beauvais, Cambray, Acre, and Bethlehem, deserved the honour of ecclesiastical knighthood; and on one occasion the valour of Baldwin, archbishop of Canterbury, saved the camp. The Christians plied the battering-rams and mangonels against the walls, and they only ceased from their labour when Saladin called them to battle on the plain.

[385]

The engagements were as sanguinary and obstinate as any which had marked the holy wars. If the Latins at any time prevailed, they speedily lost their advantages, by abandoning themselves to plunder, and allowing the vigilant enemy to collect his broken battalions. When the Saracens conquered, the Christians kept within the shelter of their fortified camp,[59] and did not again take the field till pressed to action by some new bands of crusaders. The conflicts between the Moslems and Christians were by sea as well as by land; but the naval forces were so equally balanced, that the Latins could not finally prevent the Egyptians from succouring Acre, and Europe kept up its communications with the camp. In the last year of the siege the deaths by famine and pestilence exceeded the destruction which former battles had occasioned. Both armies were wasted by a swift decay, for the presence of such numbers had exhausted the Mussulman as well as the Christian neighbourhood. At the siege of Acre, as well as at the old siege of Antioch, the morals of the holy warriors were as depraved as their condition was miserable. Yet an appearance of holiness pervaded the camp. Religious exercises were performed, and vice was reprehended. The crusaders were seemingly devout, but in reality were dissolute,[60] and compromised for personal excesses by pharisaical scrupulosity and uncharitableness.

Conrad, marquis of Tyre, had joined, and afterwards left his friends, and to his departure all the miseries of the Christians from famine were attributed. But his own principality was his most important charge, and he could not furnish provisions for his people and for the whole of the army at the same time. Disease reached and destroyed princes as well as plebeians; and when Queen Sybilla and her two young children died, Guy de Lusignan lost his principal political support. New competitors appeared for the visionary kingdom. Isabel, the sister of Sybilla, had been married at the early age of eight years to Humphry lord of Thoron; but when the warm passions of youth succeeded the indifference of infancy, the gallantry and knightly accomplishments of Conrad, marquis of Tyre, gained her affections. In the Middle Ages consanguinity or some canonical impediment was always discovered, when disgust or ambition urged the dissolution of the marriage contract; and when the will is resolved the mind is not scrupulous in its choice of arguments of justification. The church terminated the union of Humphry and Isabel, and the day after the proclamation of the divorce the bishop of Beauvais married the amorous fair one to the marquis of Tyre. As husband of the princess, Conrad claimed the honours of respect which were due to the king of Jerusalem; Humphry was too prudent to contend for an empty distinction, but Lusignan, who had once enjoyed the crown would not forego the hope of recovering it. The Christian cause was scandalised and injured by these divisions among the chiefs, but the candidates for the pageant sceptre were obliged to submit to the general opinion of the army, and reserve the decision of their claims for the judgment of the French and English monarchs.

[386]

RICHARD’S VOYAGE

Richard’s fleet had not arrived at Marseilles at the appointed time; and so great was his impatience that after waiting for it only eight days he hired some galleys and put to sea. He went to Genoa, and conferred with the French king, whose illness had kept him in that city. He then made a brief stay at Pisa, and shortly afterwards an accident which happened to his vessel compelled him to enter the Tiber.

He made some stay in Naples, and then travelled on horseback to Salerno, where he resolved to wait till he should hear of the arrival of his navy in the Mediterranean. The English fleet had been dispersed off Portugal by a violent storm, but the ships finally reached Lisbon, and circumstances enabled them to pay their obligation of gratitude. The Moors of Spain and Africa were menacing Portugal, five hundred English soldiers joined the king and marched to Santarem. Their warlike aspect awed the Saracens, and the fortunate death at this juncture of the Moorish commander broke the union of the enemy, and the country was saved. The English fleet coasted Portugal, and the southern part of Spain, and arrived at Marseilles. It then set sail for Messina, and reached that place a few days before the arrival of Philip and the French.

Richard left Salerno on the 13th of September, and on the 21st reached Mileto. He then pursued his journey, accompanied only by one knight. He assembled all the English ships, and entered the harbour of Messina with so much splendour and such clangour of horns and trumpets that the Sicilians and French were astonished and alarmed. Tancred, the illegitimate son of Roger, duke of Apulia, was at that period the king of the island.

Among the precautions which Tancred took for the establishing of his authority was the imprisonment of the widow of William the Good, his immediate predecessor. She was the sister of Richard, king of England, but on the arrival of that monarch in Sicily, the usurper restored her to freedom. But her dowry was still withheld, and her brother was resolved to avenge her wrongs. In all his measures he was violent and unjust. He placed her in a fortress which he seized from the Sicilians, and drove out the religious inhabitants of a monastery in order that it might contain his stores. Those circumstances and the dissoluteness of his people were the occasion of much altercation between the natives and the strangers. Philip Augustus had favoured the Sicilians’ cause, and the English monarch, therefore, regarded him as an enemy, and planted his standard on the quarters of the French. The mediation of the barons prevented a war between Philip and Richard, and the latter showed his goodwill to his royal companion by delivering Messina to the soldiers of the military orders till Tancred should equitably settle the claims of his sister. Peace was then concluded. Richard[387] renounced all claims on Sicily. Messina was given to the French king, and Richard encamped without the walls. Various regulations were made for intercourse between the different nations during the winter months. Merchants were not to purchase bread or corn in the army for the purpose of re-sale, and the profits on their general transactions were restricted to one denarius in ten. Gaming was permitted to the knights and clergy, to the exclusion of the rest of the army. No individual, however, was to lose more than twenty shillings in one day or night. For some time there was a frequent interchange of good offices between the French and English. Richard gave Philip several ships, and was so prodigal of his money among the soldiers that it was commonly said he was more bountiful in a month than his father had been in a year. But the disputes at Messina had rankled in the mind of Philip, and contemporary English historians have charged him with offering his assistance to Tancred for the expulsion of Richard.

THE FRENCH SAIL TO ACRE

In the month of March, 1191, Philip left Sicily and sailed to Acre. His appearance was regarded as a divine blessing; in the moment of elation the attacks were renewed; but orders were soon given for suspending them till the arrival of Richard, and it is more rational to think that the improbability of success without him was Philip’s motive, and not the specious reason that as the cause was common, the victory should be common also. Before his departure from Sicily, Richard avowed that he would lead a life of virtue, and with all humility submitted his back to the scourges of his clergy. He was detained for a short time on account of the expected arrival of his mother Eleanor with the princess Berengaria of Navarre, to whom he had been affianced, long before his treaty with Philip gave him liberty of marriage.

About a fortnight after the departure of his rival, the English monarch set sail. In the absence of numerical statements concerning the strength of his army, we can conjecture that it was formidable from the fact that his soldiers, horses, and stores filled two hundred ships of various sizes. A storm dispersed his fleet, and he heard at Rhodes that two of his vessels had been stranded on the shores of Cyprus, and that the people of the island had plundered and imprisoned such of the crews as had survived shipwreck. The vessel which carried the dowager queen of Sicily had been refused entrance into port. The English therefore landed on the shores of Cyprus; the archers as usual preceded to clear the way; their barbed arrows fell like showers of rain on the meadows, and supported by the heavily armed soldiers they drove the emperor and his Greeks into the interior of the island. The ruler of Cyprus was of the race of Comnenus, but he had changed his government into a kingdom. Isaac was taken; the king of England became lord of Cyprus; he taxed the people to the dreadful amount of the half of their movables, and then accorded to them the rights they had enjoyed under the dominion of the Byzantine emperors.

Richard reposed himself from the toil of conquest by celebrating his marriage with Berengaria. But in a few weeks he roused himself to arms. His fleet left Cyprus; a large troop ship[61] of Saladin crossed his way; the[388] light galleys surrounded and attacked her, but the lofty sides of the Turk could not be mounted. “I will crucify all my soldiers if she should escape,” exclaimed Richard. His men, more in dread of their sovereign’s wrath than the swords of the foe, impelled the sharp beaks of their vessels against the enemy; some of the soldiers dived into the sea, and seized the rudder; and others came to close combat with the Saracens. In order to make the capture an unprofitable one, the emir commanded his troops to cut through the sides of their ship till the waters should rush in. They then leaped on the decks of the English galleys. But the sanguinary and ungenerous Richard killed or cast overboard his defenceless enemies, or, with an avarice equally detestable, saved the commanders for the sake of their ransom.

Shouts of warm and gratulatory acclamations saluted the English on their arrival at Acre. The brilliant scene before them was calculated to excite all the animating feelings of warriors. The martial youth of Europe were assembled on the plain in all the pride and pomp of chivalry. The splendid tents, the gorgeous ensigns, the glittering weapons, the armorial cognisances, displayed the varieties of individual fancy and national peculiarities. On the eminences in the distance the thick embattled squadrons of the sultan were encamped. The mameluke Tatar was armed with his bow; the people of the higher Egypt with their flails and scourges; and the Bedouins with their spears and small round shields. The brazen drum sounded the note of war; and the black banner of Saladin was raised in proud defiance of the crimson standard of the cross.

DISSENSION BETWEEN THE FRENCH AND ENGLISH KINGS

The joy with which the French regarded the English was soon changed for the bitter feelings of military envy and national hatred. The religious objects of the war appeared to be forgotten. The Genoese and Templars sided with Philip; and the Pisans and Hospitallers with Richard. The king of France prepared his soldiers and their battering engines for a vigorous and general assault on the walls of Acre; and murmured revenge when his martial competitor declined co-operation on the ground of illness. The choicest part of the French troops marched to the walls, eager to shame the English.

But high as was the valour of the assailants, their numbers were not adequate; and they were repulsed in every point. When Saladin, however, attempted to carry destruction into the army and camp of his baffled foes, he was driven back with loss. The French reappeared as assailants; but once again displayed their imprudent spirit. In sickness and in convalescence Richard was carried to his military engines on a mattress, and was so active in making and using his petrariæ, that he soon destroyed half of one of the Turkish towers. He preserved his machines from the Greek fire of the city; and he rewarded his balistarii for every stone which they removed from the walls. The ditch was filled up; the tower was completely levelled; and the English heroes, particularly the earl of Leicester and the bishop of Salisbury, prepared to enter the breach. The conflict was close and sanguinary. The Pisans came to the assistance of the English, but the fury of the Turks was irresistible and the walls were cleared of the enemy.

The failure of the ambitious attempts of each of the monarchs at the capture of Acre without the aid of his rival, evinced the necessity of their[389] co-operation.[62] A reconciliation in consequence was effected between Richard and Philip: and they determined that one should attack the walls, while the other guarded the camp from the approaches of Saladin. But Acre had suffered so dreadfully from a two years’ siege, that the inhabitants were reduced to the melancholy necessity of resolving to desist from defence. Saladin endeavoured to infuse his own invincible spirit into the minds of his people, and revived for a moment their languid courage, by directing their hopes to succour from Egypt. The expected aid from Cairo did not arrive; and the citizens wrung from Saladin his permission for them to capitulate. Their safety was accordingly purchased by their agreeing to deliver unto the two kings the city itself, and five hundred Christian prisoners who were in it. The true cross was to be resigned, and one thousand other captives, and two hundred knights selected by the allies from those who were in the hands of Saladin; and unless the Mussulmans paid to Richard and Philip the sum of two hundred thousand pieces of gold within forty days, the inhabitants of Acre should be at the mercy of the conquerors.

These conditions were assented to, and, before the city changed its lords, a proclamation was made in the French and English camps that no one should injure or insult such of the Turks as quitted the place. The Christians entered Acre; the banners of the two kings floated on the ramparts; but precedence seems to have been given to Richard, for he and his wife and sister inhabited the royal palace, while Philip occupied the house of the Templars. They could not refuse the justice of their soldiers’ claim, founded on the principle that those who had shared the labours should divide the reward; but payment was so long deferred, that many persons were forced by poverty to sell their military equipments, and return to Europe. The kings were divided in opinion respecting the title to the sovereignty over Palestine. The English monarch was persuaded to espouse the cause of the weak and miserable Lusignan. The disputes were sometimes heard of during the siege; but after the capture they raged with violence. Negotiations however were entered into, and the agreement reached that Lusignan should be styled king of Jerusalem, and lord of Joppa and Askalon; yet that if Conrad should be the survivor, he and his heirs were to have perpetual sovereignty. The English monarch afterwards generously surrendered the isle of Cyprus to Lusignan.

[390]

A few weeks after the capitulation of Acre, and before the time had elapsed for the performance of all the conditions of the treaty, Philip Augustus expressed his wish of returning to Europe. The duke of Burgundy, and the largest portion of the French army, it was stipulated, were to remain in Syria under the command of Richard. Philip Augustus went to Tyre, gave to the marquis of that city his moiety, both of Acre and of the Turkish prisoners, and then set sail for Europe.b

REVIEW OF THE SIEGE

Such was the confusion of this famous siege, which lasted nearly three years, and in which the crusaders shed more blood and exhibited more bravery than ought to have sufficed for the subjugation of the whole of Asia. More than a hundred skirmishes and nine great battles were fought before the walls of the city; several flourishing armies came to recruit armies nearly annihilated, and were in their turn replaced by fresh armies. The bravest nobility of Europe perished in this siege, swept away by the sword or disease. Among the illustrious victims of this war, history points out Philip, count of Flanders, Guy de Chatillon, Bernard de St. Vallery, Vautrier de Mory, Raoul de Fougères, Eudes de Gonesse, Renaud de Maguy, Geoffroi d’Aumale, viscount de Châtellerault, Josselin de Montmorency, and Raoul de Marle; the archbishops of Besançon and Canterbury; with many other ecclesiastics and knights whose piety and exploits were the admiration of Europe.

In this war both parties were animated by religion; each side boasted of its miracles, its saints, and its prophets. Bishops and imams equally promised the soldiers remission of their sins and the crown of martyrdom. Whilst the king of Jerusalem caused the Book of the Evangelists to be borne before him, Saladin would often pause on the field of battle to offer up a prayer or read a chapter from the Koran. The Franks and the Saracens mutually accused each other of ignorance of the true God and of outraging him by their ceremonies. The Christians rushed upon their enemies crying, “It is the will of God! It is the will of God!” and the Saracens answered by their war-cry, “Islam! Islam!”

Fanaticism frequently augmented the fury of slaughter. The Mussulmans from the heights of their towers insulted the religious ceremonies of the Christians. They raised crosses on their ramparts, beat them with rods, covered them with dust, mud, and filth, and broke them into a thousand pieces before the eyes of the besiegers. At this spectacle the Christians swore to avenge their outraged worship, and menaced the Saracens with the destruction of every Mohammedan pulpit. In the heat of this religious animosity, the Mussulmans often massacred disarmed captives; and in more than one battle they burned their Christian prisoners in the very field of conflict. The crusaders but too closely imitated the barbarity of their enemies; funeral piles lighted up by fanatical rage were often extinguished in rivers of blood.

The Mussulman and Christian warriors provoked each other during single combats, and were as lavish of abuse as the heroes of Homer. Heroines often appeared in the mêlée, and disputed the prize of strength and courage with the bravest of the Saracens. Children came from the city to fight with the children of the Christians in the presence of the two armies. But sometimes the furies of war gave place to the amenities of peace, and Franks[391] and Saracens would for a moment forget the hatred that had led them to take up arms. During the course of the siege several tournaments were held in the plain of Acre, to which the Mussulmans were invited. The champions of the two parties harangued each other before entering the lists; the conqueror was borne in triumph, and the conquered ransomed like a prisoner of war. In these warlike festivities, which brought the two nations together, the Franks often danced to the sound of Arabian instruments, and their minstrels afterwards played or sang to the dancing of the Saracens.

Most of the Mussulman emirs, after the example of Saladin, affected an austere simplicity in their vestments and manners. An Arabian author compares the sultan, in his court, surrounded by his sons and brothers, to the star of night which sheds a sombre light amidst the other stars. The principal leaders of the crusade did not entertain the same love of simplicity, but endeavoured to excel each other in splendour and magnificence. As in the First Crusade, the princes and barons were followed into Asia by their hunting and fishing appointments, and the luxuries of their palaces and castles. When Philip Augustus arrived before Acre, all eyes were for a moment turned upon the falcons he had brought with him. One of these having escaped from the hands of his keeper, perched upon the ramparts of the city, and the whole Christian army was excited by endeavours to recapture the fugitive bird. As it was caught by the Mussulmans, and carried to Saladin, Philip sent an ambassador to the sultan to recover it, offering a sum of gold that would have been quite sufficient for the ransom of many Christian warriors.

The misery which so often visited the crusaders, did not at all prevent a great number of them from indulging in excesses of license and debauchery. All the vices of Europe and Asia were met together on one spot. If an Arabian author may be believed, at the very moment in which the Franks were a prey to famine and contagious diseases, a troop of three hundred women from Cyprus and the neighbouring islands arrived in the camp. These three hundred women, whose presence in the Christian army was a scandal in the eyes of the Saracens, prostituted themselves among the soldiers of the cross, and stood in no need of employing the enchantments of the Armida of Tasso to corrupt them.

Nevertheless, the clergy were unremitting in their exhortations to the pilgrims to lead them back to the morals of the Gospel. Churches, surmounted by wooden steeples, were erected in the camp, in which the faithful were every day called together. Not unfrequently the Saracens took advantage of the moment at which the soldiers left their entrenchments unguarded to attend mass, and made flying but annoying incursions. Amidst general corruption, the siege of Acre presented many subjects of edification. In the camp, or in the field of battle, charity hovered constantly around the Christian soldier, to soothe his misery, to watch his sick pallet, or dress his wounds. During the siege the warriors from the north were in the greatest distress, and could gain little assistance from other nations. Some pilgrims from Lübeck and Bremen came to their aid, formed tents of the sails of their vessels to shelter their poor countrymen, and ministered to their wants and tended their diseases. Forty German nobles took part in this generous enterprise, and their association was the origin of the hospitable and military order of the Teutonic knights.

When the crusaders entered Acre, they shared the sovereignty of it amongst them, each nation taking possession of one of the quarters of the city, which had soon as many masters as it had had enemies. The king of[392] Jerusalem was the only leader that obtained nothing in the division of the first reconquered place of his kingdom.

The capitulation remained unexecuted; Saladin, under various pretexts, deferring the completion of the conditions. Richard, irritated by a delay which appeared to him a breach of faith, revenged himself upon the prisoners that were in his hands. Without pity for disarmed enemies, or for the Christians he exposed to sanguinary reprisals, he massacred five thousand Mussulmans before the city they had so valiantly defended, and within sight of Saladin, who shared the disgrace of this barbarity by thus abandoning his bravest and most faithful warriors.[63]

This action, which excited the regret of the whole Christian army, sufficiently exposed the character of Richard, and showed what was to be dreaded from his violence; a barbarous and implacable enemy could not become a generous rival. On the day of the surrender of Acre, he committed a gross outrage upon Leopold, duke of Austria, by ordering the standard of that prince, which had been planted on one of the towers, to be cast into the ditch. Leopold dissembled his resentment, but swore to avenge this insult whenever he should find an opportunity.c

THE CRUSADERS MOVE ON JERUSALEM

It was with difficulty that the soldiers would leave the pleasures of Acre. A historian tells us that the wine in the city had already changed the complexion of the gravest Christian knights, and, for the preservation of discipline, women were prohibited from marching with the army. The largesses of Richard to the duke of Austria, the count of Champagne, and others, kept them from following Philip to Europe, and Plantagenet was at the head of nearly thirty thousand French, German, and English soldiers. These holy warriors left Acre and marched in a southerly direction, generally within sight of their ships, which coasted along the shores, bearing forage and provisions, and military necessaries. Clouds of Turks overhung and burst on the advancing army; the Red Cross knights in the van, and the military friars in the rear, frequently broke the violence of the storm; but the safety of the crusaders was principally owing to the indissoluble firmness of their columns, and their resolute forbearance.[64]

Near Azotus a general engagement could no longer be avoided by Richard. The right of his line was commanded by that heroic and hardy champion of the cross, James d’Avesnes. The duke of Burgundy, a man of doubtful virtue, headed the left; and Plantagenet himself was the stay and bulwark of the centre. The hosts of Syria and Egypt, led by Saladin, made a general and impetuous charge on their foe. The right wing of the Christians was repulsed; the left drove back the Saracens, but it was drawn by the enemy far from the other divisions of the army. Richard hastened with a select[393] band to the aid of the duke of Burgundy, and Saladin, in his endeavour to strengthen his right wing, removed the weight of hostility from James d’Avesnes. No deep impression had been made on the English lines. The personal bravery of Richard achieved wonders; his countenance, his gestures, his invocations to St. George, seconded the ardour of his troops, and the Turks were driven back with great slaughter to Azotus. The loss of the Christians, though not numerous, was severe, for James d’Avesnes perished, and his death was justly regretted by the king as the loss of a great pillar of the Christian cause.

The progress of Cœur de Lion was no longer molested, and he quickly arrived at Joppa. That city was now without fortifications, for when the tide of victory turned from the Mussulmans at Azotus, Saladin commanded the dismantling of all his fortresses in Palestine. It was policy to keep his enemies perpetually in the field, and to exhaust them by ceaseless skirmishes and engagements. As the road to Askalon was open, Richard wished to press his advantages; but the spirit of faction renewed its baneful influence, and the French barons insisted on the necessity of restoring the works of Joppa. Their opinion was in unfortunate accordance with the inclinations of an army already attenuated by incessant marching, and who thought with regret on the pleasures which had been for a while familiarised and endeared to them at Acre. It was resolved, therefore, that Joppa should be re-fortified. Plantagenet, alive to every duty of a general, urged the completion of the works. The soldiers, however, gradually sunk into that state of luxury and idleness, from which they had been with such difficulty recovered by Richard. The Mussulmans roused themselves from the distress and panic of their late defeat at Azotus; they began to collect in the vicinity of Joppa, and their military appearance awoke the English and French from their disgraceful sleep of licentiousness.

Vinsaufg tells how Richard, as ardent in pleasure as in war, enjoyed the amusement of falconry, heedless of the enemy. On one occasion the royal party would have paid dearly for their temerity, if a Provençal gentleman, named William de Pratelles, had not cried aloud, “I am the king”; and[394] by this noble lie the attention of the Saracens was drawn upon himself, while the real sovereign escaped. Shortly afterwards a body of Templars fell into an ambuscade of the Turks. Richard sent the earl of Leicester to the aid of the brave but exhausted knights, and promised to follow straight. Before he could buckle on his coat of steel, he heard that the enemy had triumphed. Despising all personal solicitude, and generously declaring he should not deserve the name of king if he abandoned those whom he had vowed to succour, he flew to the place of combat, plunged into the thickest of the fight, and his impetuosity received its usual reward of success.

The fortifications of Joppa were at length restored, a vigorous renewal of the war was determined on, and Plantagenet declared to the Saracens that the only way of averting his wrath would be to surrender to him the kingdom of Jerusalem, as it existed in the reign of Baldwin the leper. Saladin did not reject this proposal with disdain, but made a modification of the terms, in offering to yield Palestine from the Jordan to the sea. The negotiation lasted for some time. Richard was deceived and cajoled by the presents and blandishments of Saphedin [Saif ad-Din], who was the brother of Saladin, and the Christians were ashamed that their leader should be so friendly with an infidel. The barons soon saw, and compelled their royal lord to see, the artifice of the Turks, who resumed their attacks, and the negotiation was broken off. But the Templars, Hospitallers, and Pisans, dissuaded the king from attacking Jerusalem, on the argument that even if it should be taken they would immediately have to fight with the Turks in the neighbourhood. Richard commanded a retreat, and the army fell back upon Ramula, and then continued its retrogression to Askalon, a city of high consequence in the judgment of the Latins, because it was the link between the Turks in Jerusalem and the Turks in Egypt.

Until the return of the spring, all commerce between Askalon and other countries was cut off, and the army endured therefore the hardships of famine in addition to the usual severities of the climate. The impatient duke of Burgundy deserted the standard of Richard; some of the French soldiers went to Acre and Joppa; and others found a welcome reception at the court of the marquis of Tyre. But discontent gave place for a while to better feelings; and, at the solicitation of Plantagenet, most of the deserters returned to their duty. But Conrad disdained an answer to the royal summons. The walls of Askalon were soon repaired, for the proudest nobles and the most dignified clergy worked like the meanest of the people. The duke of Austria was the only distinguished man who was wrapped in haughty selfishness, and who could say that he was neither a carpenter nor a mason. Before indeed the works were completed, Richard lost the aid of his French allies, who, more mercenary than chivalric, retired to Acre, because the royal coffers were exhausted, and the king could not give them their stipulated pay. Commercial jealousy, as well as military envy, obstructed the Crusades. The Genoese and Pisans made Acre the theatre of their animosities; and an appearance of dignity and disinterestedness was given to their feuds, when they fought in the name and for the interests of their respective friends, Conrad and Guy. The marquis of Tyre joined his troops to the Genoese, and the civil war would have spread through all the Christian powers, if Plantagenet had not marched from Askalon to Acre. Conrad prudently retraced his steps, and by the address of the English king the breach between the republicans was closed. Richard endeavoured to conciliate the marquis; but the young nobleman aspired to independence and sovereign power, drew seven hundred French soldiers from Askalon to Tyre, and allied[395] himself with Saladin. When Richard had retired from Jerusalem, and his army became broken, Saladin had dismissed many of his troops to their families and homes; but when he heard of the defection of Conrad, he thought that the moment of active hostility was arrived, and he accordingly spread his standard, and summoned his hosts.

Richard was cool and undismayed at the military port of his enemy, but political disturbances in England demanded the presence of the monarch, and he was compelled to yield to his necessities, and solicit his generous foe to terminate the war. He declared that he required only the possession of the sacred city, and of the true cross. But the Mussulman replied that Jerusalem was as dear to the Moslem as to the Christian world, and that he would never be guilty of conniving at idolatry by permitting the worship of a piece of wood. Thwarted by the religious principles of his enemies, Richard endeavoured to win upon their softer affections. He proposed a consolidation of the Christian and Mohammedan interests, the establishment of a government at Jerusalem, partly European and partly Asiatic; and these schemes of policy were to be carried into effect by the marriage of Saphedin with the widow of William king of Sicily. The Mussulman princes would have acceded to these terms; but the marriage was thought to be so scandalous to religion, that the imams and the priests raised a storm of clamour, and Richard and Saladin, powerful as they were, submitted to popular opinion.[65]

The necessity of Richard’s return to England grew stronger, and the only cause of his delay was the choice of a military commander of the Christians. The imbecile Guy had but few partisans, and the public voice was in favour of the valiant Conrad; Richard generously overlooked the circumstance, that the prince of Tyre was his enemy, and the friend of Saladin, and consented to the public wish. But while preparations were making for the coronation, Conrad was slain by two of the Assassins. In the first moments of indignation, the French declared that Richard had instigated the murderers. They demanded from the widow of Conrad the resignation of Tyre, but she was too politic to encounter the anger of the king. Count Henry of Champagne appeared in the midst of the tumult; he took the throne upon the invitation of the people, and following the approved precedent, he secured himself from opposition by marrying the widow of Conrad. Richard confirmed the election of the people, and the civil war was closed. The duke of Burgundy and the count of Champagne joined Richard.

Disregarding the calls from England, the king led his English and Normans to the fortress of Darum, reduced it, and gave it to the French, whose preparations for the attack had been rendered needless by the superior activity of their allies. Some new messengers from England brought fresh accounts of the increasing power of Prince John, and the treachery of Philip Augustus. The army continued its march towards Jerusalem, and encamped in the valley of Hebron. The generals and soldiers vowed that they would not quit Palestine without having redeemed the sepulchre. Everything wore the face of[396] joy when this resolution was adopted; Richard participated in the feeling, and although he thought that his presence in England would be the only means of restoring affairs there, yet he professed to the duke of Burgundy, and the count of Champagne, that no solicitation from Europe should prevail with him to leave the allies until after the following Easter. Hymns and thanksgivings testified the popular joy at this resolution.

The nearer the approach of the Christians the greater was the terror of the Mussulmans in Jerusalem; many of them prepared to leave the city, and even Saladin was alarmed for its safety. The crusaders were at Bethlehem; the French nobility in the council were as clamorous as the people without to press forward; but the mind of Richard vacillated, and he avowed his doubts of the policy of the measure, as his force was not adequate to a siege, and to the keeping up of communications with its stores on the coast. He proposed that they should march to Berytus, to Cairo, or Damascus; but as the barons of Syria, the Templars, and Hospitallers, had a perfect knowledge of Palestine, he thought that their decision should regulate the proceedings of the army.

THE ENTERPRISE ABANDONED

A council of twenty was accordingly appointed from the military orders, the lords of the Holy Land, and also the French knights. They learned that the Turks had destroyed all the cisterns, which were within two miles of the city; they felt that the heats of summer had begun; and for these reasons it was decided that the siege of Jerusalem should be deferred, and that the army should march to some other conquest. As a general, Richard was fully aware of the impolicy of advancing against the sacred city, yet he was unable to suppress his bitter feelings of mortification at a decision which would probably blast the proud hopes that he had indulged of redeeming the sepulchre. A friend led him to a hill which commanded a view of Jerusalem; but, covering his face with a shield, he declared that he was not worthy to behold a city which he could not conquer. The French soldiers uttered invectives and complaints against the decision of the council; Cœur de Lion offered them provisions, ships, and money, if they would obey its decree, and march to Cairo; and although they acquiesced, yet as they were not zealous, Richard remained in inactivity and indecision.

Active hostility against the Saracens was abandoned by the Christians for the fiercer employment of civil rancour and dissensions; and if a retreat had not been commanded, the army would have been totally destroyed by Saladin. Richard could preserve but little order and discipline among the soldiers. Some retired to Joppa, but Acre was the rendezvous of most of the army.

By the quickest marches Saladin reached Joppa, and so vigorous was his siege of it that in a few days one of the gates was broken down, and such of the people as could not defend themselves in the great tower, or escape by sea, were destroyed. Before the morning, however, the brave Plantagenet reached Joppa. Abandoning the hope of rescuing the Holy Land from infidel subjection, he was on the point of quitting Acre and of returning to Europe, when the precipitancy of his Moslem rival opened again all his visions of glory and conquest. The French refused to march; but the Templars and Hospitallers, the Pisans and Genoese, the earl of Leicester and the other English nobles, vowed to save their friends. Richard and some of his troops went by sea to Joppa; other soldiers took the land course, but were badly distressed by those impediments which Saladin, in anticipation[397] of their approach, cast in their way. Plantagenet was the first who leaped on shore, and the most active with his deadly sword.b

There have been few feats of arms more renowned than this all-day fight of Richard, and the old chronicler, Geoffrey de Vinsauf, has written of it in such strain of enthusiasm that we cannot forbear quoting the splendid pictures, whose hyperbole is its own explanation and excuse.a

VINSAUF’S ACCOUNT OF RICHARD AT JOPPA

The king hearing of the danger to which the besieged were exposed and pitying their condition interrupted the messengers.

“As God lives,” said he, “I will be with them, and give them all the assistance in my power!” The words were hardly out of his mouth, before a proclamation was made that the army should be got ready. But the French would not vouchsafe even to honour the king with an answer, exclaiming proudly that they should never again march under his command; and in this they were not disappointed, for they never again marched under anybody’s command, for in a short time they all miserably perished. Meanwhile, however, the soldiers of all nations, whose hearts God had touched, and the sufferings of their fellow-creatures excited to compassion, hastened to set out with the king; namely, the Templars, the Hospitallers, and several other valiant knights, all of whom marched by land to Cæsarea; but the noble king trusting for his safety to his own valour, embarked on board his fleet of galleys, which were equipped with everything that could be necessary. A contrary wind arose, which detained the king’s ships three days at Caiphas, where they had put in.

The king, vexed at this delay, exclaimed aloud, “O Lord God, why dost thou detain us here? consider, I pray thee, the urgency of the case, and the devoutness of our wishes.” No sooner had he prayed thus than God caused a favourable wind to spring up, which wafted his fleet before it into the harbour of Joppa, in the midst of the night of Friday immediately preceding the Saturday on which they had agreed to surrender, and all of them would have been given over to destruction. They fled up the fortress as far as they were able, and there awaited the stroke of martyrdom, shedding tears, and supplicating the mercy of the Almighty who at length was appeased, and deigned to listen to their petition; their deliverer was already come, his fleet was riding in the harbour, and his soldiers were eager to land for their rescue!

The Turks, discovering the arrival of the king’s fleet, sallied down to the seaside with sword and shield, and sent forth showers of arrows: the shore was so thronged with their multitude that there was hardly a foot of ground to spare. Neither did they confine themselves to acting on the defensive, for they shot their arrows at the crews of the ships, and the cavalry spurred their horses into the sea to prevent the king’s men from landing. The king, gathering his ships together, consulted with his officers what was the best step to take.

“Shall we,” said he, “push on against this rabble multitude who occupy the shore, or shall we value our lives more than the lives of those poor fellows who are exposed to destruction for want of our assistance?” Some of them replied that further attempts were useless, for it was by no means certain that anyone remained alive to be saved, and how could they land in the face of so large a multitude?

[398]

The king looked around thoughtfully, and at that moment saw a priest plunge into the water and swim toward the royal galley. When he was received on board, he addressed the king with palpitating heart and spirits almost failing him. “Most noble king, the remnant of our people, waiting for your arrival, are exposed like sheep to be slain, unless the divine grace shall bring you to their rescue.” “Are any of them still alive, then?” asked the king, “and if so, where are they?” “There are still some of them alive,” said the priest, “and hemmed in and at the last extremity in front of yonder tower.” “Please God, then,” replied the king, “by whose guidance we have come, we will die with our brave brothers in arms, and a curse light on him who hesitates.”

The word was forthwith given, the galleys were pushed to land; the king dashed forward into the waves with his thighs unprotected by armour, and up to his middle in the water; he soon gained firm footing on the dry strand; behind him followed Geoffrey du Bois and Peter de Pratelles, and in the rear came all the others rushing through the waves. The Turks stood to defend the shore, which was covered with their numerous troops. The king, with an arbalest which he held in his hand, drove them back right and left; his companions pressed upon the recoiling enemy, whose courage quailed when they saw it was the king, and they no longer dared to meet him. The king brandished his fierce sword, which allowed them no time to resist, but they yielded before his fiery blows and were driven in confusion with blood and havoc by the king’s men until the shore was entirely cleared of them.

The king then, by a winding stair, which he had remarked in the house of the Templars, was the first to enter the town, where he found more than three thousand of the Turks turning over everything in the houses, and carrying away the spoil. The brave king had no sooner entered the town than he caused his banners to be hoisted on an eminence, that they might be seen by the Christians in the tower, who, taking courage at the sight, rushed forth in arms from the tower to meet the king, and at the report thereof the Turks were thrown into confusion. The king, meanwhile, with brandished sword, still pursued and slaughtered the enemy, who were thus enclosed between the two bodies of the Christians, and filled the streets with their slain. All were slain, except such as took to flight in time; and thus those who had before been victorious were now defeated and received condign punishment, whilst the king still continued the pursuit, showing no mercy to the enemies of Christ’s cross, whom God had given into his hands; for there never was a man on earth who so abominated cowardice as he.

But the king had only three horses with him, and what were three among so many? If we examine the deeds of the ancients, and all the records left us by former historians, we shall find that there never was a man who so distinguished himself in battle as King Richard did this day. When the Turks leaving the town saw his banners floating in the air, a cry was raised on right and left as he sallied forth upon them, and no hail-storm or tempest ever so densely concealed the sky, as it was then darkened by the flying arrows of the Turks. Saladin, hearing of the king’s arrival, and of his brilliant contest with the Turks, of whom he had slain all who opposed him, was seized with sudden fear, and like that timid animal, the hare, put spurs to his horse and fled from before his face. The king, with his men, still continued the pursuit, slaying and destroying, whilst his arbalesters made such havoc of the horses that for two miles the traces of their flight were visible. He now therefore pitched his tent in the same place where those[399] of Saladin had been, and thus by the divine grace so small a body of men had defeated this large army of the Turks. It was then given out among the Turks what a reproach it was to them, and lasting scandal, that so large an army and so many thousands of the Turks had been defeated by so small an army, and that Joppa had been recovered from them by force of arms. In this manner they murmured to one another at what had taken place, and trembled with confusion.

Meanwhile a certain depraved set of men among the Saracens, called Menelones of Aleppo and Cordivi, an active race, met together to consult what should be done in the existing state of things. They spoke of the scandal which lay against them, that so small an army, without horses, had driven them out of Joppa, and they reproached themselves with cowardice and shameful laziness, and arrogantly made a compact among themselves that they would seize King Richard in his tent, and bring him before Saladin, from whom they would receive a most munificent reward. But now, by the providence of God, who had decreed that his holy champion should not be seized whilst asleep by the infidels, a certain Genoese was led by the divine impulse to go out early in the morning into the fields, where he was alarmed at the noise of men and horses advancing, and returned speedily, but just had time to see helmets reflecting back the light which now fell upon them. He immediately rushed with speed into the camp, calling out “To arms! to arms!” The king was awakened by the noise, and leaping startled from his bed, put on his impenetrable coat of mail, and summoned his men to the rescue.

God of all virtues! lives there a man who would not be shaken by such a sudden alarm? The enemy rushed unawares, armed against unarmed, many against few, for our men had no time to arm, or even to dress themselves. The king himself therefore, and many others with him, on the urgency of the moment, proceeded without their cuishes to the fight, some even without their breeches, and they armed themselves in the best manner they could, though they were going to fight the whole day. Whilst our men were thus arming in haste, the Turks drew near, and the king mounted his horse with only ten other knights. These alone had horses, and some even of those they had were base and impotent horses unused to arms; the common men were skilfully drawn out in ranks and troops, with each a captain to command them. Oh, who could fully relate the terrible attacks of the infidels? The Turks at first rushed on with horrid yells, hurling their javelins and shooting their arrows. The king ran along the ranks and exhorted every man to be firm and not to flinch. The Turks came on like a whirlwind, again and again, making the appearance of an attack, that our men might be induced to give way, and when they were close up, they turned their horses off in another direction. The king and his knights, who were on horseback, perceiving this, put spurs to their horses and charged into the middle of the enemy, upsetting them right and left, and piercing a large number through the body with their lances; at last they pulled up their horses, because they found that they had penetrated entirely through the Turkish lines.

The king now looking about him, saw the noble earl of Leicester fallen from his horse, and fighting bravely on foot. No sooner did he see this than he rushed to his rescue, snatched him out of the hands of the enemy, and replaced him on his horse. What a terrible combat was then waged! A multitude of Turks advanced, and used every exertion to destroy our small army; vexed at our success, they rushed towards the royal standard of a lion, for they would rather have slain the king than a thousand others.[400] In the midst of the mêlée the king saw Ralph de Mauleon dragged off prisoner by the Turks, and spurring his horse to speed, in a moment released him from their hands, and restored him to the army; for the king was a very giant in the battle, and was everywhere in the field—now here, now there, wherever the attacks of the Turks raged the hottest. So bravely did he fight, that there was no one, however gallant, that would not readily and deservedly yield to him the pre-eminence.

On that day he performed the most gallant deeds on the furious army of the Turks, and slew numbers with his sword, which shone like lightning; some of them were cloven in two from their helmet to their teeth, whilst others lost their heads, arms, and other members, which were lopped off at a single blow. While the king was thus labouring with incredible exertions in the fight, a Turk advanced towards him, mounted on a foaming steed. He had been sent by Saphedin of Archadia, brother to Saladin, a liberal and munificent man, if he had not rejected the Christian faith. This man now sent to the king, as a token of his well-known honourable character, two noble horses, requesting him earnestly to accept them, and make use of them, and if he returned safe and sound out of that battle, to remember the gift and recompense it in any manner he pleased. The king readily received the present, and afterwards nobly recompensed the giver. Such is bravery, cognisable even in an enemy; since a Turk, who was our bitter foe, thus honoured the king for his distinguished valour.

The king, especially at such a moment of need, protested that he would have taken any number of horses equally good from anyone, even more a foe than Saphedin, so necessary were they to him at that moment. Fierce now raged the fight, when such numbers attacked so few; the whole earth was covered with the javelins and arrows of the unbelievers; they threw them several at a time against our men, of whom many were wounded. Thus the weight of the battle fell heavier upon us than before, and the galley-men withdrew in the galleys which brought them, and so, in their anxiety to be safe, they sacrificed their character for bravery. Meanwhile a shout was raised by the Turks, as they strove who should first occupy the town, hoping to slay those of our men whom they should find within.

The king, hearing the clamour, taking with him only two knights and two cross-bow men, met three Turks, nobly caparisoned, in one of the principal streets. Rushing bravely upon them, he slew the riders in his own royal fashion, and made booty of two horses. The rest of the Turks who were found in the town were put to the rout in spite of their resistance, and dispersing in different directions, sought to make their escape even where there was no regular road. The king also commanded the parts of the walls which were broken down to be made good, and placed sentinels to keep watch lest the town should be again attacked. These matters settled, the king went down to the shore, where many of our men had taken refuge on board the galleys. These the king exhorted by the most cogent arguments to return to the battle and share with the rest whatever might befall them. Leaving five men as guards on board each galley, the king led back the rest to assist his hard-pressed army; and he no sooner arrived, than with all his fury he fell upon the thickest ranks of the enemy, driving them back and routing them, so that even those who were at a distance and untouched by him, were overwhelmed by the throng of the troops as they retreated.

Never was there such an attack made by an individual. He pierced into the middle of the hostile army, and performed the deeds of a brave and distinguished warrior. The Turks at once closed upon him and tried to[401] overwhelm him. In the meantime our men, losing sight of the king, were fearful lest he should have been slain, and when one of them proposed that they should advance to find him, our lines could hardly contain themselves. But if by any chance the disposition of our troops had been broken, without doubt they would all have been destroyed. What however was to be thought of the king who was hemmed in by the enemy, a single man opposed to so many thousands?

The hand of the writer faints to tell it, and the mind of the reader to hear it. Who ever heard of such a man? His bravery was ever of the highest order, no adverse storm could sink it; his valour was ever blooming. Why then do we speak of the valour of Antæus, who regained his strength every time he touched his mother earth, for Antæus perished when he was lifted up from earth in the long wrestling match. The body of Achilles also, who slew Hector, was invulnerable, because he was dipped in the Stygian waves; yet Achilles was mortally wounded in the very part by which he was held when they dipped him. Likewise Alexander, the Macedonian, who was stimulated by ambition to subjugate the whole world, undertook a most difficult enterprise, and with a handful of choice soldiers fought many celebrated battles, but the chief part of his valour consisted in the excellence of his soldiers. In the same manner, the brave Judas Maccabæus, of whose wars all the world discoursed, performed many wonderful deeds worthy forever to be remembered, but when he was abandoned by his soldiers in the midst of a battle, with thousands of enemies to oppose him, he was slain, together with his brothers.

But King Richard, inured to battle from his tenderest years, and to whom even famous Roland could not be considered equal, remained invincible even in the midst of the enemy, and his body, as if it were made of brass, was impenetrable to any kind of weapon. In his right hand he brandished his sword, which in its rapid descent broke the ranks on either side of him. Such was his energy amid that host of Turks that, fearing nothing, he destroyed all around him, mowing men down with his sword as reapers mow down the corn with their sickles. Who could describe his deeds? Whoever felt one of his blows, had no need of a second. Such was the energy of his courage, that it seemed to rejoice at having found an occasion to display itself. The sword wielded by his powerful hand, cut down men and horses alike, cleaving them to the middle.

The Turks were terror-struck at the sight, and giving way on all sides, scarcely dared to shoot at him from a distance with their arrows. The king now returned safe and unhurt to his friends, and encouraged them more[402] than ever with the hope of victory. How were their minds raised from despair when they saw him coming safe out of the enemy’s ranks! They knew not what had happened to him, but they knew that without him all the hopes of the Christian army would be in vain. The king’s person was stuck all over with javelins, like a deer pierced by the hunters, and the trappings of his horse were thickly covered with arrows. Thus, like a brave soldier, he returned from the contest, and a bitter contest it was, for it had lasted from the morning sun to the setting sun. It may seem indeed wonderful and even incredible that so small a body of men endured so long a conflict; but by God’s mercy we cannot doubt the truth of it, for in that battle only one or two of our men were slain. But the number of the Turkish horses which lay dead on the fields is said to have exceeded fifteen hundred; and of the Turks themselves more than seven hundred were killed, and yet they did not carry back King Richard, as they had boasted, as a present to Saladin; but, on the contrary, he and his brave followers performed so many deeds of valour in the sight of the Turks, that the enemy themselves shuddered to behold them. In the meantime, our men having by God’s grace escaped destruction, the Turkish army returned to Saladin, who is said to have ridiculed them by asking where Melek Richard was, for they had promised to bring him a prisoner? “Which of you,” continued he, “first seized him, and where is he? Why is he not produced?” To whom one of the Turks that came from the farthest countries of the earth replied; “In truth, my lord, Melek Richard, about whom you ask, is not here; we have never heard since the beginning of the world that there ever was such a knight so brave and so experienced in arms. In every deed at arms, he is ever the foremost; in deeds, he is without a rival, the first to advance and the last to retreat; we did our best to seize him, but in vain, for no one can escape from his sword; his attack is dreadful; to engage with him is fatal, and his deeds are beyond human nature.”

From the toil and exertion of the battle, King Richard and several others who had exerted themselves the most, fell ill, not only from the fatigue of the battle, but the smell of the corpses, which so corrupted the neighbourhood, that they all nearly died.g

PEACE BETWEEN THE KINGS

Richard now wished for peace, and Saladin, exhausted by wars, submitted to necessity. They exchanged expressions of esteem, and as the former avowed his contempt of the vulgar obligation of oaths, they only grasped each other’s hands in pledge of fidelity. A truce was agreed upon for three years and eight months; the fort of Askalon was to be destroyed; but Joppa and Tyre, with the country between them, were to be surrendered to the Christians. The people of the West were also at liberty to make their pilgrimages to Jerusalem, exempt from the taxes which the Saracenian princes had in former times imposed.

The French soldiers at Acre prepared to return to Europe; but wished first to behold the sepulchre which was so dear and sacred to the Christians. But Richard was indignant at the audacity of men who claimed the benefit of a treaty which no efforts of their own had procured. They had lost the laurel of holy warriors, and they deserved not to bear the pilgrim’s palm. The rest of the army visited the hallowed places, and Saladin, alive to every honourable obligation, prevented his subjects from injuring the persons and[403] insulting the feelings of the devout palmers. In a familiar conversation with the bishop of Salisbury Saladin expressed his admiration of the bravery of Plantagenet, but thought that the skill of the general did not equal the valour of the knight. The courteous prelate complimented the Mussulman by replying that there were not two such warriors in the world as the English and the Syrian monarchs. Often have we had occasion to observe the generosity of Saladin in the moment of victory. At the solicitation of the bishop he allowed establishments of Latin priests in the Holy Sepulchre, and in the churches of Bethlehem and Nazareth. He had pity, too, on the different barons whom his conquests had dispossessed. He gave to the lord of Sajetta a handsome town near Tyre; to Belian of Ibelin a castle, four miles from Acre; and he restored Caiphas, Cæsarea, and Azotus to their respective lords. Count Henry of Champagne became master of Joppa.

The loss of many thousand soldiers on the plains of Acre, and the bravery and conduct of the English monarch, had prevented some of the anticipated issues of the battle of Tiberias; Palestine did not become a Mussulman colony; and so much of the sea coast was in the hands of the Christians, and so enfeebled were the enemy, that fresh hostilities could safely be commenced whenever Europe should again pour forth her religious fanatics, and military adventurers. Richard gained more honour in Palestine than any of the emperors of Germany and kings of France who had sought renown in foreign war; and although these distant ages may censure his conduct as unprofitable to his country, yet his actions were in unison with that spirit of the times which looked upon valour as more important than empire, and esteemed achievements in battle more highly than the consequences of victory. In the month of October, Richard, with his queen, the English soldiers, and pilgrims, set sail for England. But storms of violence, uncommon even for the boisterous season of autumn, soon scattered the fleet. Many of the vessels were wrecked on hostile shores, and the warriors of England, now penniless, naked, and famished, were led into Saracen prisons. Other ships fortunately reached friendly ports, and in time returned to Britain.b

[404]

END AND REVIEW OF THE THIRD CRUSADE

Thus finished this Third Crusade, in which all the western powers in arms obtained no greater advantages than the taking of Ptolemais and the demolition of Askalon; in it Germany lost, without glory, one of the greatest of its emperors and the finest of its armies. If we may believe Arabian authors, six hundred thousand crusaders appeared before Ptolemais, and scarcely one hundred thousand of these warriors saw their native country again. Europe had the greater reason to deplore the losses of this war, from the fact of her armies having been so much better composed than in preceding expeditions; criminals, adventurers, and vagabonds had been strictly excluded from the ranks. All that the West could boast of the most noble and illustrious of its warriors had taken up arms.

The crusaders that contended with Saladin were better armed and better disciplined than any that preceded them in Palestine; the foot-soldiers employed the cross-bow, which had been neglected or prohibited in the Second Crusade. Their cuirasses, and their bucklers covered with thick leather, defied the arrows of the Saracens; and on the field of battle, soldiers were often seen bristling with arrows and darts, whom the Arabs compared to porcupines, still keeping their ranks and fighting bravely. The Saracens had likewise made some progress in the art of war, and began to resume the use of the lance, which they did not employ when the first crusaders arrived in Syria. The Mussulman armies were not confused multitudes; they remained longer under their banners, and fought with less disorder. The Kurds and Turks surpassed the Franks in the art of attacking and defending cities and castles. The Mussulmans had, besides, more than one advantage over the crusaders: they made war upon their own territories and in their own climate; they were under the command of one single leader, who communicated the same spirit to all, and only presented to them one cause to defend.

In this crusade the Franks appeared to be more polished than they had been till that time. Great monarchs making war against each other without ceasing to give evidences of mutual esteem and generous feeling, was a new spectacle for the world. Subjects followed the example of their princes, and lost beneath the tent much of their barbarism. The crusaders were sometimes admitted to the table of Saladin, and emirs received at that of Richard. By thus mingling together, Saracens and Christians might make a happy exchange of usages, manners, knowledge, and even virtues. The Christians, rather more enlightened than during the first Crusades, stood in less need of excitement from the visions of fanaticism. The passion for glory was for them almost as powerful a principle as religious enthusiasm. Chivalry also made great progress in this crusade; it was held in such honour, and the title of knight was so glorious, even in the eyes of the infidels, that Saladin did not disdain to be decorated with it.

In this crusade, in which so many knights rendered themselves illustrious, two men acquired an immortal glory, one by a useless bravery and qualities more brilliant than solid, the other by real successes and virtues that might have served as models to Christians. The name of Richard remained during a century the terror of the East, and the Saracens and Turks celebrated him in their proverbs a long time after the Crusades. He cultivated letters and merited a place among the troubadours; but the arts did not at all soften his character; it was his ferocity as well as his courage that procured him the surname of Cœur de Lion. Carried away by the[405] inconstancy of his inclinations, he often changed his projects, his affections, and his principles of action; he sometimes braved religion, and very often devoted himself to its service. Sometimes incredulous, as often superstitious; measureless in his hatred as in his friendship, he was extravagant in everything, and only showed himself constant in his love for war. The passions which animated him scarcely ever permitted his ambition to have an aim or a determinate object. His imprudence, his presumption, and the unsteadiness of his plans, made him lose the fruits of his exploits. In a word, the hero of this crusade is more calculated to excite surprise than to create esteem, and appears to belong less to history than to the romances of chivalry.

With less rashness and bravery than Richard, Saladin possessed a more firm character, one far better calculated to carry on a religious war. He paid more attention to the results of his enterprises; more master of himself, he was more fit to command others. When mounting the throne of the atabegs, Saladin obeyed rather his destiny than his inclinations; but when once firmly seated, he was governed by only two passions—that of reigning, and that of securing the triumph of the Koran. On all other subjects he was moderate, and when a kingdom or the glory of the prophet was not in question, the son of Eyyub was admired as the most just and mild of Mussulmans. We may add that the stern devotion[66] and ardent fanaticism that made him take up arms against the Christians, only rendered him cruel and barbarous in one single instance. He displayed the virtues of peace amidst the horrors of war. “From the bosom of camps,” says an oriental poet, “he covered the nations with the wings of his justice, and poured upon his cities the plenteous showers of his liberality.” The Mussulmans, always governed by fear, were astonished that a sovereign could inspire them with so much love, and followed him with joy to battle. His generosity, his clemency, and particularly his respect for an oath, were often the subjects of admiration to the Christians, whom he rendered so miserable by his victories, and of whose power in Asia he had completed the overthrow.

The Third Crusade, which was so glorious for Saladin, was not entirely without advantages for Europe. Many crusaders, on the way to Palestine, stopped in Spain, and by their victories over the Moors, prepared the deliverance of the kingdoms situated beyond the Pyrenees. A great number of Germans, as in the Second Crusade, prevailed upon by the solicitations of the pope, made war upon the barbarous inhabitants of the shores of the Baltic, and thus, by useful exploits, extended the limits of the Christian republic in the West. As in this war the greater part of the crusaders went to Palestine by sea, the art of navigation made a sensible advance; the maritime nations of Europe acquired an accession of prosperity, their fleets became more formidable, and they were able, with glory, to dispute the empire of the sea with the Saracens.

In several states of Europe, commerce, and the spirit of the holy wars contributed to the enfranchisement of the lower classes. Many serfs, upon becoming free, took up arms. It was not one of the least interesting spectacles of this crusade, to see the standards of several cities of France and Germany floating in the Christian army amongst the banners of lords and barons. This crusade was particularly beneficial to France, from which it banished both civil and foreign wars. By prolonging the absence of the[406] great vassals and the enemies of the kingdom, it weakened their power, and gave Philip Augustus authority to levy imposts, even upon the clergy. It afforded him an opportunity of surrounding his throne with a faithful guard, to keep up regular armies, and prepare, though at a distance, that victory of Bouvines which proved so fatal to the enemies of France.

A long captivity awaited Richard on his return to Europe. The vessel in which he embarked was shipwrecked on the coast of Italy, and fearing to pass through France, he took the route of Germany, concealed under the habit of a simple pilgrim. His liberality betrayed the monarch, and as he had enemies everywhere, he was seized by the soldiers of the duke of Austria. Leopold had not sufficient generosity to forget the outrages received from Richard at the siege of Ptolemais, and detained him prisoner.[67] The duke of Austria did not dare to detain his redoubtable captive in his own hands, and gave him up to the emperor of Germany. Henry VI, who had likewise insults to revenge, was rejoiced to get Richard in his power, and kept him in chains, as if he had made him a prisoner in the field of battle. The hero of the crusade, who had filled the world with his renown, was cast into a dark dungeon, and remained a long time a victim to the vengeance of his enemies—and they were Christian princes. He was brought before the German diet, assembled at Worms, where he was accused of all the crimes that hatred and envy could invent. But the spectacle of a king in chains was so affecting, that no one durst condemn Richard, and when he offered his justification, the bishops and nobles melted into tears, and besought Henry to treat him with less injustice and rigour.

Queen Eleanor implored all the powers of Europe for the release of her son. The complaints and tears of a mother touched the heart of Celestine, who had recently ascended the chair of St. Peter. The pope several times demanded the liberty of the king of England, and even excommunicated the duke of Austria and the emperor; but the thunders of the church had so often been launched against the thrones of Germany, that they no longer inspired fear. Henry braved the anathemas of the holy see; the captivity of Richard lasted another year; and he only obtained his liberty after engaging to pay a considerable ransom. His kingdom, which he had ruined at his departure for the Holy Land, exhausted itself to hasten his return; and England gave up even her sacred vases to break the chains of her monarch. He was received with enthusiasm by the English; his adventures, which drew tears, obliterated the remembrance of his cruelties, and Europe only recollected his exploits and his misfortunes.c

[407]

DEATH OF SALADIN; ARAB EULOGIES

In the year 589 (1193 A.D.), after the departure of the king of England, Saladin having no longer anything to fear from the Christians, resolved to pass some time at Damascus. This was always a favourite place of sojourn, and he hoped there to recover his health, for he was feeling severely the strain of so arduous a war. His plan, after resting a while in Damascus, was to go to Egypt, which he had not visited for ten years. He left Jerusalem and paid visits en route to Nablus, Tiberias, and other scenes of his recent conquests. At Berytus, Bohemond, prince of Antioch, came to pay allegiance. What most touched the sultan was that Bohemond came of his own accord, without distrust, without escort, without even having requested a safe conduct. As evidence of his satisfaction the sultan gave him a splendid welcome, and granted him several fiefs contiguous to his own principality. The lords who came with him also received presents. Saladin finally arrived in Damascus amid the acclamations of the populace. Great was the rejoicing, and poets exercised their art for the occasion. The sultan immediately took in hand the welfare of the inhabitants and reformed several abuses. In the meanwhile he betook himself with his brother Malik Adil to the pleasures of the chase. He was away a fortnight; his health seemed restored, and already he began to believe himself beyond all danger, when suddenly he fell ill of a bilious fever of which he died on the thirteenth day, March 5, 1193. Boha ad-Din, who at the time of Saladin’s death was in the city, relates that grief was universal. “That day,” he says, “was the most terrible that had ever dawned on Islam. The castle of Damascus, the city, the whole universe was struck with a sorrow that God alone could measure.”

Saladin was born at Tekrit, on the Tigris, and died at the age of fifty-seven lunar years, after having reigned twenty-four years over Egypt and nineteen over Syria. Arabian historians represent him as a most generous prince, who would ever willingly deprive himself of the necessaries of life. Boha ad-Din avows that finally his steward felt obliged, unknown to him, to put aside money in order to meet future emergencies; at his death they found in his treasury forty-seven silver pieces and one of gold. “This,” adds Boha ad-Din, “was all that remained of the revenues of Egypt, Arabia, Syria, and a part of Mesopotamia.”

It always happened that when Saladin took possession of a new province he performed deeds of great generosity in order to win over the people. When he entered Damascus after the death of Nur ad-Din, he did not take for himself any of this prince’s treasures, but distributed everything among the emirs. “Saladin,” says Abulfeda, “had gentle manners, he bore contradiction easily, and showed great indulgence to those who served him. If anything wounded his feelings he did not exhibit it. He was reserved in speech; and his example inspired the same thing in others. No one dared attack his neighbour’s honour in the sultan’s presence.

“He never could see an orphan without being moved. If one of its parents were still alive he gave it into this parent’s keeping, but himself provided for the child’s maintenance and kept watch over its education. Whenever he met an aged person he wept tenderly and bestowed some token of generosity. Such was his manner of life until God called him to his merciful bosom.”

Saladin was not insensible to domestic affection. He loved to spend his time with his family, surrounded by his children, and taking part in their[408] sports. He was sincerely devoted to his religion and brought up his children in the same way. Boha ad-Din has preserved for us the sultan’s speech, a short time before his death, on the occasion of the departure of his son Dhahir to the post of governor of Aleppo. “O my son,” the sultan said, “I recommend to thee the fear of God, source of all goodness. Do what God asks, and thou shalt find in that thy salvation. Hold always the sight of blood in horror. Take care not to shed or stain thyself with it, for the mark is never washed away. Look to the well-being of thy subjects and inform thyself as to their needs. Thou art for them God’s minister as well as mine. Take care to please the emirs, the great men of the land, and the people of high estate. It is by my righteous ways that I have reached this degree of power. Bear no malice towards anyone whoever he may be, for we are all mortal. Be attentive to thy duty to others, for in giving them satisfaction thou obtainest the forgiveness of God better than looking to thy own account with him, for repentance to cure all; for the Lord is good and merciful.”

He loved to read the Koran and he had the book read to his servitors and all those around him. Noticing one day a little child reading the Koran to his father, he was touched to tears by the sight and gave money and land to both father and son. He admitted unreservedly all that religion teaches, and hated philosophers and heretics. He once imprisoned and put to death at Aleppo a young man named Sahraverdi, who mocked at and insulted religion.

Boha ad-Din relates again: “Saladin was a great lover of justice; not only was he strict on its being given, but he dispensed it himself as far as his affairs would admit. He heard cases twice a week, Mondays and Thursdays, assisted by cadis and people of the law. Great and small, everyone found the door open. He did the same on his journeys as in his capital, receiving all petitions presented to him, and rejecting no demands. When a case demanded a great amount of attention he examined it at leisure, sometimes in the day, sometimes at night, and judged it as God prompted him. Never was his sense of justice invoked in vain; it was the same for the princes of his family as for his other subjects, for he made exception of no one.”

There would be no end were one to transcribe all that the Arab chroniclers, particularly Boha ad-Din, relate concerning Saladin’s justice and piety. The latter is especially devoted to bringing out these virtues of his hero, and purposely omits to speak of the vices that stained them. In the whole course of his reign Saladin encountered no great opposition except on the part of the Christians, and especially those of the West. So he had come to believe in no enemies but the Franks. These he treated as enemies of God, and called the war they brought upon him, “the holy war.”

“When God shall have put into my hands the other Christian cities,” he told Boha ad-Din,f “I shall share my states with my children, leave them my last instructions, and bidding them farewell, embark upon that sea to subdue the western isles and lands. I shall never lay down my arms while there remains a single infidel upon the earth, at least if from here to there I am not stopped by death.”

Thus Saladin’s ambitions reached as far as the conquest of France, Italy, and the other Christian countries. And lest one should believe the words reported by Boha ad-Din to be a vain threat, we find the same idea in the sultan’s reply to a letter from the emperor Barbarossa. What is more singular is that the hate of Saladin was directed towards the Christians only as a body of nations. Once in his power, he looked at them through different[409] eyes. Thus we can explain the magnificent and even exaggerated eulogies of certain contemporary Christian and especially Italian writers, eulogies which perhaps no Mohammedan writer has exceeded. For example, there is the following passage in the Arab history of the patriarchs of Alexandria, whose author was one of the Coptic Christians:

“Saladin in all the surrenders he had from the Franks was faithful to his word. When a town capitulated he left the inhabitants their liberty, with their wives, their children, and their belongings. As to their Mohammedan captives, Saladin offered to buy them back, and mentioned a sum greater than their value. If the Franks refused this he let them keep their prisoners, saying, ‘I don’t want to interfere with your captives; only treat them well, as I treat your people.’ Whenever his policy would permit it Saladin sought to please everybody. ‘I much prefer,’ he said, speaking of the Christians, ‘that they should remain contented and happy.’”

Saladin’s two most glorious achievements in the eye of the majority of the Mohammedan historians were the taking of Jerusalem and Palestine from the Christians, and the destruction of the Fatimite caliphate in Egypt. To these relate most of the titles and phrases in which they refer to him and which may be found on many monuments of the period. “With Saladin,” says Imad ad-Din, his secretary, “the great men perished, with him disappeared people of true worth; good deeds diminished, and bad ones increased; life became difficult, and earth was covered with shadows; the century had its phœnix to deplore, and Islam lost its support.”k

FOOTNOTES

---

[410]

CHAPTER V. THE FOURTH TO THE SIXTH CRUSADES

Wars and rebellions had filled all the thoughts of Saladin, and he had established no principles of succession. Three of his numerous progeny became sovereigns of Aleppo, Damascus, and Egypt; others had smaller possessions, and the emirs and atabegs of Syria again struggled for independence. The soldiers of the late sultan rallied round his brother Saphedin [Saif ad-Din] whose wisdom and valour were familiar to them. Both by stratagem and liberal policy he reared a large fabric of empire in Syria, and he was the most powerful of all the Moslem princes, when the time for the expiration of the peace arrived. The Saracenic power was, however, palsied for a while by a dreadful famine in Egypt, and the Latins in Palestine suffered also from the miserable state of this general granary.

The knights of St. John cast their regards towards Europe, and particularly to England, for succour, and entreated that new armies would march to Palestine, and destroy the exhausted Moslems.

POPE CELESTINE III PROMOTES A CRUSADE (1195 A.D.)

Two years before this favourable moment, the daring and ambitious pope Celestine III had again sounded the trumpet of war. France had not revived from its losses in the Third Crusade, and Philip Augustus heard the appeal with indifference. Many of the people of England enrolled their names as holy warriors, obtained spiritual absolution, and then abandoned their pious resolves. The pope hurled his thunders against those who[411] deserted their profession, except for some legitimate cause; but all thoughts of a crusade gradually died away in England, for the king was too much occupied in political concerns to encourage it. But wild schemes of war were occasionally in his mind, and the early writers have ascribed to his dauntless spirit the vast design of conquering Egypt and, after having gained the Holy Land, of possessing himself of the throne of Constantinople.

Designs equally ambitious were entertained by the emperor Henry, the enemy of Plantagenet. Seconded by imperial influence, the clergy successfully preached the crusade through all the German states. The emperor declared that he would provide a passage for both rich and poor who wished to go. But, though influenced, he was not absorbed by the love of barren glory, and when the possession of Sicily seemed an easy achievement, he postponed the gathering of laurels in Palestine till he had added a great state to his empire in Europe. Tancred, prince of Sicily, had lately died, and Henry, in right of his wife Constanza, put in his claims. This defection from the holy war was declared to be in accordance with the opinions of his wisest princes and lords, and it did not quench the spirit of fanaticism and romance.

THE FOURTH (OR GERMAN) CRUSADE (1195-1198 A.D.)

From the north to the south of Germany the frenzy of crusading had spread, and it had infected the bishops of Bremen, Würzburg, Passau, and Ratisbon; the dukes of Saxony, Brabant, Bavaria, and the son of the duke of Austria; the marquis of Brandenburg and Moravia; the landgraf of Thuringia; the count Palatine, and the counts of Habsburg and Schwembourg. The son of Henry duke of Limburg and the archbishop of Mainz led the vanguard of the holy warriors; and in the passage through Hungary they were joined by Margaret, sister of the French king and queen of Hungary, who, as one mode of consolation for the loss of her husband, had vowed to pass the remainder of her life in the pains of pilgrimage. Though the time of peace, as settled by the treaty between Richard and Saladin, had expired, yet the Christians and Mussulmans continued to live in amity. When the new champions of the cross arrived at Acre, no remonstrances of the Latins against fresh wars, no suggestions that all new crusaders ought to be obedient to the discretion of the residents in the Holy Land could abate the furious desire of the Germans for hostility.

Their aggressions were quickly returned by the Mussulmans, civil feuds were hushed, and Saphedin again headed the veteran forces of Syria and of Egypt. The important city of Joppa was taken by him before the Christian army from Acre could relieve it. The care and expense of Richard were dissipated in a moment; the fortifications were destroyed, and several thousands of the people of Joppa were put to the sword. In these unhappy moments another portion of the German force, under the command of the dukes of the lower Lorraine and Saxony, arrived at Acre. They had made the voyage from the northern ports of Germany, and in their route had chastised the Moors of Portugal. Confident in their strength, the united forces of Europe and Palestine, led by the duke of Saxony, directed their march towards the city of Berytus; but Saphedin, ever observant of events, quitted the vicinity of Joppa, and overtook his foes between Tyre and Sidon. The close columns of the duke of Saxony’s army were impenetrable to his vigorous and continual attacks. The victory of the Christians appeared to be decisive, the enemy’s force was scattered, and so extensive[412] was the panic that the Saracens abandoned Laodicea, Gabala, Joppa, Sidon, and Berytus. Nine thousand prisoners were redeemed without ransom; and the statement that there were three years’ provisions for the inhabitants of Berytus in the storehouses of that town shows the importance of the day of Sidon. The exultation of the crusaders was still further advanced by the arrival of a third body of friends, headed by Conrad, bishop of Hidelsheim and chancellor of the German Empire. By the usual process of ambitious princes Henry had subjugated Sicily; and now, devoted to the conquest of the Holy Land, he sent his third army as his immediate precursors.

It seemed that the hour was now at hand when Europe would receive the reward of her invincible heroism. All the sea coast of Palestine was already in the possession of the Christians: and even they who had generally most desponded were now elevated with the conviction that the cross must ere long surmount the walls of Jerusalem. But in their march from Tyre towards the Holy City they made a fatal halt at the fortress of Thoron. The lofty and solid pile of stones withstood the attacks of the common engines of violence. But by a month’s labour of some Saxon miners the rock itself which supported the fortress was pierced through; and the battlements tottered to their foundation. The Saracens were now at the feet of the Christians suing for clemency. A free passage into the Moslem territories was all that they asked, and the fort might then be at the disposal of the crusaders. After much time had been passed in balancing considerations of revenge or mercy, a treaty founded on these terms was signed; but although just principles of war prevailed with the majority, yet the smaller party, who breathed nothing but slaughter, impressed their menaces so deeply on the minds of the Saracens that the latter vowed to submit to the last extremity, rather than confide in the agreements and oaths of champions of the cross.

They gained resolution from despair; they met their foes in the passages which had been mined in the rocks; and in every encounter the Moslem scimitar reeked with Christian blood. Factious contentions disordered the Latin council; insubordination and vice raged in the camp; and, to crown their miseries, the crusaders heard that the infidel world had recovered from its defeat at Sidon, and that the sultans of Egypt and Syria were concentrating their levies. Daunted at the rumour of their march, the German princes deserted their posts in the middle of the night, and fled to Tyre. In the morning their flight was discovered by the soldiers, and horror and despair seized every breast. The camp was deserted by those who had strength to move; the feeble left their property, the cowardly their arms behind them. The road to Tyre was filled with soldiers and baggage in indiscriminate confusion; but so exhausted was the state of the Mussulmans in Thoron, that the Christians were not molested in their retreat by any accidents except those which their own imprudence and precipitation occasioned (1197).

When the fragments of the army were collected, and the soldiers were at a distance from danger, everyone reproached the other as the cause of the late disgraceful event. The Germans accused the Latins of cowardice; and the barons of the Holy Land declared that they would not submit to the domineering pride of the Germans. All the quarrels were conducted in scriptural language. Treachery was the crime of which each party accused the other; for the case of Judas was in the minds of all. Conrad and his soldiers went to Joppa, and resolved to repair its fortifications and to await the moment for revenge on the Latins of Syria. Saphedin marched against them,[413] and the Germans did not decline the combat. Victory was on the side of the Christians; but it was bought by the death of many brave warriors, particularly of the duke of Saxony, and of the son of the duke of Austria. But the Germans did not profit by this success, for news arrived from Europe that the great support of the Crusade, Henry VI, was dead. The archbishop of Mainz, and all those princes who had an interest in the election of a German sovereign, deserted the Holy Land. The queen of Hungary was the only individual of consequence whose fanaticism was stronger than worldly considerations. The remnants, and they were more than twenty thousand, of this once powerful host fortified themselves in Joppa. But a new storm arose in the Turkish states. It swept over Berytus and the land of the Christians; and, on the 11th of November, while the Germans were celebrating the feast of St. Martin, the Moslems entered the city of Joppa and slew every individual whom they found.

Old Fullerf says, “At this time, the spring-tide of their mirth so drowned their souls that the Turks, coming in upon them, cut every one of their throats to the number of twenty thousand; and quickly they were stabbed with the sword that were cup-shot before. A day which the Dutch (the Germans) may well write in their calendars in red letters dyed with their own blood, when the camp was their shambles, the Turks their butchers, and themselves the Martinmasse beeves, from which the beastly drunkards differ but a little.”

About the time of the massacre at Joppa, Henry, count of Champagne, the acknowledged king of Jerusalem, died. The grand master of the Hospitallers represented to Isabella the propriety of her marriage with Almeric de Lusignan, king of Cyprus, who had lately succeeded his brother Guy. It was thought that Acre and its vicinity could not remain in the hands of the Latins unless they were governed by a king, and that, in every circumstance, Cyprus, as a place of succour and retreat, would be a valuable ally to Jerusalem. With equal truth it might have been argued that, if there were a powerful king in Palestine, faction, the great foe of the state, could not raise its head. Familiarised to the joys of royalty and love, the widowed queen embraced with rapture new prospects of happiness, and in her eyes Almeric was as estimable as she had found her divorced husband Humphry, or her deceased lords Conrad and Henry. The union was approved of by the clergy and barons, it was celebrated at Acre, and Almeric and Isabella were proclaimed king and queen of Cyprus and Jerusalem.

THE FIFTH CRUSADE (1201-1204 A.D.)

The Third and Fourth Crusades were created by the ordinary influence of papal power and royal authority; but the Fifth sprang from genuine fanaticism. At the close of the twelfth century a hero arose in France, worthy of companionship with Bernard. Fulk, of the town of Neuilly, near Paris, was distinguished by the vehemence and ability of his preaching, and as in early life he had drank deeply of the cup of pleasure he was well qualified to describe the different states of the sinner and the saint. He did not involve himself in the speculative absurdities of the day, but declaimed against the prevailing vices of usury and prostitution. For two years he preached without success, but after that time “heaven lent its aid to the efforts of the preacher, in order that his words, like arrows from a powerful bow, might penetrate the depraved hearts of men.” Accordingly, miracles[414] attested celestial approbation, and his sermons were received as oracles. With the extension of his fame his wishes for religious good increased, and his soul was inflamed with the desire of accomplishing the great aim of Christendom. He accordingly assumed the cross, and war with the infidels became the copious matter of his sermons.c

The Fifth Crusade was an individual enterprise. Since the failure of the Third, Jerusalem was forgotten and wars between kings and Christian peoples took the place of the pious expeditions. England, Germany, and France, once united for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre, were now armed one against the other. The emperor Otto IV was excommunicated; Philip Augustus had been, John was to be. All these excommunicants gave little thought to the Holy Land. The great pope Innocent III wanted to bring it back to their minds and caused a new crusade to be preached, promising the remission of all sins to those who served God for one year. Fulk the curé was the pope’s mouthpiece. He visited a tournament that was being held in Champagne, and his burning words made all the princes and knights assembled there assume the cross. This time, as on the first, the kings held aloof, and the people did also. Knighthood alone took part, and rather to show strength of arms than any deep piety, for the affair was nothing more, or little more, than a plundering expedition. Baldwin IX, count of Flanders, and Boniface II, count of Montferrat, were at its head. And it had been previously proved that the sea route was much preferable to the land, the crusaders sought ships at Venice.

That city was even then the Queen of the Adriatic. Driven by Attila’s invasion to the lagoons, the people from the mainland had prospered in that most remarkable situation in the world. None of the invasions that passed over Italy had reached them. Their trade had extended, and the islands and shores of Istria and Illyria recognised their superiority. When the crusaders appeared, the Venetians encouraged them not only through piety but the spirit of gain as well. The Mohammedans and Greeks were their rivals in the eastern Mediterranean and they found this a good opportunity to dispossess them. The interested services rendered the crusaders in 1130 had brought the Venetians the privilege of opening in each town of the new kingdom of Jerusalem a quarter exclusively their own, and at the same time they took possession of the Greek islands of Rhodes, Samos, Scio, Mytilene, and Andros. In 1173 Venice had made its dogeship elective, and established with its grand council that aristocratic government which kept its power through many ages.

Such was Venice when the crusaders put in an appearance. Geoffrey de Villehardouin,g seneschal to the court of Champagne, himself narrates the mission in which he took part. It was a curious sight—that of the feudal lords obliged, kneeling and in tears, to beg the people humbly for ships. “We will grant them; we will grant them,” replied the sovereign people. City of merchants and seamen, Venice could not but sell such a service, and demanded 85,000 marks or 20,230 kilograms of silver, which to-day would be equal to about £161,840 or $809,200, but in those days was worth[415] much more. The knights could not produce such a sum, and in place of cash the Venetians offered to take in payment a hostile city if the crusaders would capture it for them. They had already taken from the Greeks the principal cities of the Dalmatian coast—Spalato, Ragusa, and Sebenico. One alone remained to prevent their complete dominion over the Adriatic—Zara, still occupied by the king of Hungary. In vain did Innocent III thunder against this detour from the crusade; the Venetians got Zara and Doge Dandolo, ninety years old, assumed the cross (1202).

The little account settled, they could go; but whither? The set-backs of the last Crusades showed that it was necessary to have some point of support in order to operate successfully in Palestine, and this point must be either Egypt or the Greek Empire. The Venetians persuaded their allies that the keys of Jerusalem were either at Cairo or Constantinople. There was some truth in this idea, but there was much more commercial interest. The possession of Cairo would give the Venetians the route to India; that of Constantinople would assure them the commerce of the Black Sea and the whole Grecian archipelago. The crusaders decided on Constantinople, whither a young Greek prince, Alexius, offered to lead them provided they would re-establish on the throne his father Isaac Angelus who had been deposed (1203).

The account of the assault on Constantinople, given more fully in the history of the Byzantine Empire, may be briefly sketched here. When the French came in sight of Constantinople, saw its high walls, its innumerable churches whose gilded domes glistened in the sun, and their glances wandered, as Villehardouin says, “over the length and breadth of the city, sovereign of all others, there was none so brave whose heart did not tremble, and each one looked at the arms which he would soon need.” Along the shore there was lined up a magnificent army of sixty thousand men. The crusaders counted on a terrible battle. Barges brought them fully armed to the shore. Before even touching the strand “the knights jumped into the water up to their waists, fully armed, the lance men, the sword bearers, the good archers, and the good sergeants, and the good cross-bowmen. And the Greeks made much pretext to stop them. And when the crusaders came with lowered lances, the Greeks turned their backs and fled, leaving them the shore. And know that nothing more glorious ever took place.” The 18th of July (1203) the city was carried by assault; the old emperor was brought from his cell and put back on the throne. Alexius had made the crusaders the most glowing promises; to keep them he imposed new taxes and so angered the weakened people that they strangled their emperor, set up another, Mourzoufle, and shut the city’s gates. The crusaders attacked at once. Three days sufficed to get them in again (March, 1204); this time they put it to the sack. One whole quarter, a square league of territory, was burned. And what works of art perished! Four hundred thousand marks were collected in a church for distribution.[68]

Then they divided the empire up. Baldwin IV, count of Flanders, was elected emperor of Romania. He won against his opponents, Dandolo and Boniface of Montferrat. The Venetians did not like the idea of seeing their doge on the imperial throne. They took (which pleased them better) a portion of Constantinople with the shore of the Bosporus and the Propontis,[416] and a majority of the Archipelago islands, Candia, etc., and dubbed themselves lords of a quarter and a half of the Eastern Empire. The marquis of Montferrat was elected king of Macedonia; Villehardouin, marshal of Romania, and his nephew, prince of Romania. The count of Blois received the Asiatic provinces. There were dukes of Athens and Naxos, counts of Cephalonia, and lords of Thebes and of Corinth. A new France, with all its feudal customs, arose at the eastern end of Europe. Members of the Comnenus family, however, managed to keep several portions which they divided into principalities—Trebizond, Napoli of Argolis, Epirus and Nicæa. But the crusaders were too few to hold their conquest long. In 1261 this Latin Empire fell to pieces. But, up to the end of the Middle Ages and the conquests of the Turks, there still subsisted in certain parts of Greece remnants of the feudal principalities so strangely established by the French in the ancient land of Miltiades and Leonidas.b

The establishment of the Latins in Constantinople was the important though unlooked-for issue of the Fifth Crusade; but their dominion lasted only fifty-seven years. The history of that period forms a part of the annals of the Lower Empire, and not of the holy wars. But we may remark, generally, that in a very few years fortune ceased to smile on the conquerors. Their arrogant and encroaching temper awakened the jealousy of the king of Bulgaria. The fierce mountaineers, who had so often insulted the majesty of the Roman Empire, now redeemed themselves from the sin of rebellion, by ceaseless war on the usurpers of their former master’s throne. The change of the Greek ritual into the service of the Latin church, was a subject of perpetual murmur and discontent. The feudal code of the kingdom of Jerusalem was violently imposed on the people, in utter contempt of their manners and opinions. The Greeks, too, were not admitted into any places of confidence in the government, and the nobility gradually retired from Constantinople, and associated themselves with the princes of the deposed royal family. Several of those princes formed states out of the ruins of the empire, and Manuel Palæologus, the emperor of Nicæa, descendant of Lascaris, son-in-law of the usurper Alexius, had the glory of recovering the throne of the Cæsars, and of finally expelling the usurpers from Constantinople. On the Asiatic side of the Bosporus the Latins never had much power.

The jealousy which Genoa entertained of her great rival, Venice, was one of the most active causes of the fall of the Latin Empire. In the eleventh and twelfth centuries, commercial concessions had often purchased for Constantinople the military and naval aid of the sovereign of the Adriatic; and at the time of the Fifth Crusade, the empire appeared to acknowledge the equality of the republic. The imperial throne gained the friendship of other Italian princes, and the Pisans as well as the Venetians had almost unlimited commerce with the Grecian states. Each of these allies had its church and its exchange in Constantinople; its consuls decided the causes of their respective citizens, and both nations enjoyed the rare and blessed privilege of exemption from payment of public taxes. In the middle of the twelfth century, Genoa had obtained commercial immunities; but it does not appear that they were so extensive as those which had been acceded to the Venetians and Pisans. When the crusaders captured Constantinople, the commerce of the Black Sea was open to the Venetians, a commerce, which before that event had only been slightly enjoyed by the Italians. The Genoese, alarmed at the maritime progress of the Venetians, took up arms against them; fortune befriended the inferior power, and in the year 1215[417] a treaty was concluded, whereby the Genoese were confirmed in the commercial privileges which they had enjoyed under the Greek emperor. But the political situation of the Venetians continued a great source of superiority, and their rivals incited and assisted the Greeks to throw off the Latin yoke, and recapture Byzantium.c

RESULTS OF THE FIFTH CRUSADE

An old empire which moulders away, a new empire ready to sink into ruins—such are the pictures that this crusade presents to us; never did any epoch offer greater exploits for admiration, or greater troubles for commiseration. The Greeks, a degenerate nation, honoured their misfortunes by no virtue; they had neither sufficient courage to prevent the reverses of war, nor sufficient resignation to support them. When reduced to despair, they showed some little valour; but that valour was imprudent and blind; it precipitated them into new calamities, and procured them masters much more barbarous than those whose yoke they were so eager to shake off. They had no leader able to govern or guide them; no sentiment of patriotism strong enough to rally them; deplorable example of a nation left to itself, which has lost its morals, and has no confidence in its laws or its government! The Franks had just the same advantages over their enemies that the barbarians of the north had over the Romans of the Lower Empire. In this terrible conflict, simplicity of manners, the energy of a new people for civilisation, the ardour for pillage, and the pride of victory, were sure to prevail over the love of luxury, habits formed amidst corruption, and vanity which attaches importance to the most frivolous things, and only preserves a gaudy resemblance of true grandeur.

This spirit of conquest, which appeared so general among the knights, might favour the expedition to Constantinople; but it was injurious to the holy war, by turning the crusaders aside from the essential object of the crusade. The heroes of this war did nothing for the deliverance of Jerusalem, of which they constantly spoke in their letters to the pope. The conquest of Byzantium, very far from being, as the knights believed, the road to the land of Christ, was but a new obstacle to the taking of the Holy City; their imprudent exploits placed the Christian colonies in greater peril, and only ended in completely subverting, without replacing it, a power which might have served as a barrier against the Saracens. To recapitulate in a few words our opinion of the events and consequences of this crusade, we must say that the spirit of chivalry and the spirit of conquest at first gave birth to wonders, but that they did not suffice to maintain the crusaders in their possessions. The crusaders evinced a profound contempt for the Greeks, whose alliance and support they ought to have been anxious to seek; they wished to reform manners and alter opinions, a much more difficult task than the conquest of an empire, and only met with enemies in a country that might have furnished them with useful allies.

We may add that the policy of the holy see, which at first undertook to divert the Latin warriors from the expedition to Constantinople, became, in the end, one of the greatest obstacles to the preservation of their conquests. The counts and barons, who reproached themselves with having failed in obedience to the sovereign pontiff, at length followed scrupulously his instructions to procure by their arms the submission of the Greek church, the only condition on which the holy father would pardon a war commenced[418] in opposition to his commands. To obtain his forgiveness and approbation, they employed violence against schism and heresy, and lost their conquest by endeavouring to justify it in the eyes of the sovereign pontiff. The pope himself did not obtain that which he so ardently desired. The union of the Greek and Roman churches could not possibly be effected amidst the terrors of victory and the evils of war; the arms of the conquerors had less power than the anathemas of the church, to bring back the Greeks to the worship of the Latins. Violence only served to irritate men’s minds, and consummated the rupture, instead of putting an end to it. The remembrance of persecutions and outrages, a reciprocal contempt, an implacable hatred arose and became implanted between the two creeds, and separated them forever.

History cannot affirm that this crusade made great progress in the civilisation of Europe. The Greeks had preserved the jurisprudence of Justinian; the empire possessed wise regulations upon the levying of imposts and the administration of the public revenues; but the Latins disdained these monuments of human wisdom and of the experience of many ages; they coveted nothing the Greeks possessed but their territories and their wealth. Most of the knights took a pride in their ignorance, and amongst the spoils of Constantinople, attached no value to the ingenious productions of Greece. Amidst the conflagrations that consumed the mansions and palaces of the capital, they beheld with indifference large and valuable libraries given up to the flames. We may add that the necessity for both conquerors and conquered of intercommunication must have contributed to the spreading of the Latin language among the Greeks, and that of the Greeks among the Latins.

The crusaders likewise profited by several useful inventions, and transmitted them to their compatriots; and the fields and gardens of Italy and France were enriched by some plants till that time unknown in the West. Boniface sent into his marquisate some seeds of maize, which had never before been cultivated in Italy; a public document, which still exists, attests the gratitude of the people of Montferrat. The magistrates received the innocent fruits of victory with great solemnity, and, upon their altars, called down a blessing upon a production of Greece, that would one day constitute the wealth of the plains of Italy.

Flanders, Champagne, and most of the provinces of France, which had sent their bravest warriors to the crusade, fruitlessly lavished their population and their treasures upon the conquest of Byzantium. We may say that these intrepid fighters gained nothing by this wonderful war, but the glory of having given, for a moment, masters to Constantinople, and lords to Greece. And yet these distant conquests, and this new empire, which drew from France its turbulent and ambitious princes, must have been favourable to the French monarchy. Philip Augustus must have been pleased by the absence of the great vassals of the crown, and had reason to learn with joy that the count of Flanders, a troublesome neighbour, and a not very submissive vassal, had obtained an empire in the East. The French monarchy thus derived some advantage from this crusade; but the republic of Venice profited much more by it. This republic, which scarcely possessed a population of two hundred thousand souls, and had not the power to make its authority respected on the continent, in the first place, made use of the arms of the crusaders, to subdue cities, of which, without their assistance, she could never have made herself mistress. By the conquest of Constantinople, she enlarged her credit and her commerce in the East, and brought under her laws some of the richest possessions of the Greek emperors. She increased the reputation of her navy, and raised herself above all the[419] maritime nations of Europe. The Venetians never neglected the interests or glory of their own country, whilst the French knights scarcely ever fought for any object but personal glory and their own ambition. Of her new possessions in the East, Venice only retained such as she judged necessary to the prosperity of her commerce, or the maintenance of her marine.d

THE CHILDREN’S CRUSADE (1212 A.D.)

Some of the best witnesses for the history of the Middle Ages affirm that, seduced by the preaching of fanatics, the children of France and Germany, about the year 1212, thought themselves authorised by heaven to attempt the rescue of the Sepulchre, and ran about the country, crying, “Lord Jesus Christ, restore thy cross to us.” Boys and girls stole from their homes, “no bolts, no bars, no fear of fathers or love of mothers, could hold them back,” and the number of youthful converts was thirty thousand. They were organised by some fanatical wretches, one of whom was taken and hanged at Cologne. The children drove down France, crossed the Alps, and those who survived thirst, hunger, and heat, presented themselves at the gates of the seaports of Italy and the south of France. Many were driven back to their homes; but seven large ships full of them went from Marseilles; two of the vessels were wrecked on the isle of St. Peter, the rest of the ships went to Bougie and Alexandria, and the masters sold the children to slavery. These singular events are mentioned by four contemporary writers. (1) Alberic, monk of Trois Fontaines, in his chronicle. (2) Godfrey of St. Pantaleon, in his annals. The editor cites in his margin a Belgic chronicle as a testimony. (3) Sicard, bishop of Cremona. (4) M. Paris. Roger Bacon, who flourished in the middle of the thirteenth century, thus speaks of the Crusade of Children: “Forsan vidistis aut audistis pro certo quod pueri de regno Franciæ semel occurrebant in infinita multitudine post quondam malignum hominem, ita quod nec a patribus, nec a matribus, nec amicis poterant detineri, et positi sunt in navibus et Saracenis redditi, et non sunt adhuc 64 anni.” Honest Fuller says: “This crusade was done by the instinct of the devil, who, as it were, desired a cordial of children’s blood, to comfort his weak stomach, long cloyed with murdering of men.”c

This expedition beyond the seas, undertaken about 1212, and composed entirely of children, if not one of the most striking events of the Crusades,[420] certainly appears not one of the least extraordinary. Whoever is acquainted with the taste of the Middle Ages for the marvellous, and has only read the incomplete account of the modern historians of the Crusades, is at first tempted to range this expedition among fabulous adventures; and to procure it any credit, it is necessary to produce evidences worthy of our confidence.

With regard to the date, contemporary historians all place this crusade under the year 1212, or 1213 at the latest. It is only by an error very easy to be reconciled, that others advance it twelve years, or put it back ten. As to the places that witnessed the birth and growth of such an enterprise, it appears that the crusaders belonged to two nations, and formed two troops, which followed different routes; one, leaving Germany, traversed Saxony and the Alps and arrived on the shores of the Adriatic Sea; France furnished the others, who, after collecting in the environs of Paris, crossed Burgundy, and arrived at Marseilles, the place of embarkation. Prestiges, fanaticism, the announcement of prodigies, were all employed to rouse the youth of these countries and put them in motion. It was reported, according to Vincent de Beauvais, that the Old Man of the Mountain, who was accustomed to educate arsacides from the tenderest age, detained two clerks captives, and would only grant them their liberty upon condition that they brought him back some young boys from France. The opinion then was, that these children, deceived by false visions, and seduced by the promises of these two clerks, marked themselves with the sign of the cross.

The promoter of the crusade in Germany was a certain Nicholas, a German by nation. “This multitude of children,” says Bezarre, “were persuaded by the help of a false revelation, that the drought would be so great that year that the abysses of the sea would be dry; and they went to Genoa, with the intention of passing over to Jerusalem, across the arid bed of the Mediterranean.” The composition of these troops corresponded with the means employed to seduce them. There were children of all ages and conditions, and of both sexes; some of them were not more than twelve years old; they set out from villages and towns, without leaders, without guides, without provisions, and with empty purses. It was in vain their parents or friends thought to dissuade them by showing them the folly of such an expedition; the captivity to which they condemned them redoubled their ardour; breaking through doors, or opening themselves passages through walls, they succeeded in escaping, and went to rejoin their respective bands. If they were questioned upon the object of their voyage, they answered that they were going to visit the holy places. Although a pilgrimage commenced under such auspices, and stained with all sorts of excesses, must have been an object of scandal rather than of edification, there were people senseless enough to see in it an act of the all-powerful God; men and women quitted their houses and their lands to join these vagabond troops, believing they pursued the way of salvation; others furnished them with money and food, thinking they aided souls inspired by God, and guided by sentiments of divine piety. The pope, when informed of their proceedings, exclaimed, with a groan: “These children reproach us with being buried in sleep, whilst they are flying to the defence of the Holy Land.” If some few of the clergy, endowed with a little foresight, openly blamed this expedition, their censures were at once attributed to motives of avarice and incredulity; and, in order to avoid public contempt, wisdom and prudence were condemned to silence.

The event, however, proved that all which man undertakes without employing the balance of reason and earnest reflection, does not come to[421] a fortunate issue; “for soon,” says Bishop Sicard, “this multitude entirely disappeared: quasi evanuit universa.” But we must carefully distinguish between the fate of the German and that of the French crusaders, although a part of the latter directed their course towards Italy. It required nothing beyond wearing the cross to be admitted into the crusade; if the watchful care of princes and prelates in expeditions directed by ecclesiastical and secular power could not succeed in excluding from them men of bad morals, what sort of people must have been mixed with a host got together without the least care, and under the eye of no superior intelligence, the greater part of whom fled, like the prodigal son, from the paternal dwelling, in order to give themselves up, without restraint, to their vicious inclinations? The account of Godfrey the Monk, therefore, does not at all astonish us when he says that thieves insinuated themselves among the German pilgrims, and disappeared after having plundered them of their baggage and the gifts the faithful had bestowed upon them. One of these thieves, being recognised at Cologne, ended his days on the rack.

To this first misfortune a crowd of evils quickly succeeded, the necessary result of the want of foresight of the crusaders. The fatigue of a long journey, heat, disease, and want, swept away a great number of them. Of those who arrived in Italy, some, dispersing themselves over the country, and plundered by the inhabitants, were reduced to servitude; others, to the amount of seven thousand, presented themselves before Genoa. At first the senate gave them permission to remain six or seven days in the city; but reflecting afterwards upon the folly of the expedition, fearing that such a multitude would produce famine, and, above all, apprehending that Frederick, who was then in a state of rebellion against the holy see and at war with Genoa, might take advantage of the circumstance to excite a tumult, they ordered the crusaders to depart from the city. Some, finding their error, turned back towards their own country again; and these crusaders, who had been seen advancing in numerous troops, and singing animating songs, returned singly, robbed of everything, walking barefooted, undergoing the pangs of hunger, and subjected to the scoffs and derision of the population of the cities and countries they passed through; it is not to be wondered at, that in such circumstances many young girls lost the chastity which had been their ornament in their homes.

The crusaders from France experienced a nearly similar fate; a very slender portion of them returned; the rest either perished in the waves or became an object of speculation for two Marseilles merchants. Hugh Ferrers and William Porcus, so were they named, carried on a trade with the Saracens, of which the sale of young boys formed a considerable branch. No opportunity for an advantageous speculation could be more favourable; they offered to transport to the East all the pilgrims who arrived at Marseilles, without any kind of charge for the voyage; assigning piety as the motive for this act of generosity. This proposition was joyfully accepted; and seven vessels, laden with these pilgrims, set sail for the coast of Syria. At the end of two days, when the ships were off the Isle of St. Peter, near the Rock of the Recluse, a violent tempest arose, and the sea swallowed up two of them, with all the passengers on board. The other five arrived at Bougie and Alexandria, and the young crusaders were all sold to the Saracens or to slave-merchants. The caliph bought forty of them, all of whom were in orders, and caused them to be brought up with great care in a place set apart for the purpose; twelve of the others perished as martyrs, being unwilling to renounce their religion. None of the clerks purchased by the[422] caliph, according to the account of one of them who afterwards obtained his liberty, embraced the worship of Mohammed; all faithful to the religion of their fathers, practised it constantly in tears in slavery. Hugh and William, having at a later period formed the project of assassinating Frederick, were discovered, and perished in an ignominious manner, with three Saracens, their accomplices, receiving, in this miserable end, the wages due to their treachery.

Pope Gregory IX afterwards caused a church to be built in the island of St. Peter, in honour of those who were shipwrecked, and instituted twelve canonships to provide for the duties of it. In the time of Alberic the spot was still pointed out where the bodies cast up by the waves were buried. As for the crusaders who survived so many calamities, and remained in Europe, with the exception of some old and infirm persons, the pope would not release them from their vows; they were obliged either to perform the pilgrimage at a maturer age, or to redeem it by alms.

Such was the issue of this crusade, so justly designated by two chronicles, expeditio nugatoria, expeditio derisoria.

Two facts strike us as extraordinary in this account; the condition attached by the Old Man of the Mountain to the liberty of the clerk of whom Vincent de Beauvais speaks, and the trade in children carried on by the merchants of Marseilles. Upon the first point we can offer nothing but the opinion received among the nations of the West. It was generally believed in the thirteenth century, that the Old Man of the Mountain kept up a connection with Christian Europe; several princes were even accused of having had recourse to the daggers of his Assassins to get rid of their enemies. Frederick received ambassadors from him in Sicily. Roger Bacon complains bitterly of the fascinations secretly employed by the Saracens to seduce the young servants of Christ; the name of Assassins had already passed into the vulgar tongue in the thirteenth century, and was the object of general terror. In spite, then, of the opinion of some critics, a more extended examination is necessary, before we reject the account of Vincent de Beauvais. As to the trade in young boys, that is not at all a new fact; many traces of it are found much anterior to this period. The Greeks and Venetians practised it openly enough. Pope Zacharias repurchased, in 748, many Christian slaves, who had been taken away from Rome by Venetian merchants; the people of Verdun, as witnessed by Liutprand, were about to sell to the Arabs of Spain some young boys they had mutilated, and who were to serve as guards to the women of seraglios. Besides, the fate of the young crusaders who embarked at Marseilles, and found degradation and slavery instead of the sacred soil promised to their blind zeal, is attested by two contemporary writers, worthy of perfect confidence: Thomas de Champré and Roger Bacon.e

THE SIXTH CRUSADE (1217-1229 A.D.)

The successful heroism of the French adventurers before Constantinople alarmed the Mussulmans, and Saphedin had gladly concluded a treaty for six years’ peace with the Christians. Palestine soon again became the theatre of ambition and of glory. Almeric and his wife died, and Mary, the daughter of Isabella and Conrad of Tyre, was the new ideal queen of Jerusalem, while Hugh de Lusignan, son of Almeric by his first wife, was proclaimed king of Cyprus. Hugh had married the princess Alice, half sister of the young queen, and daughter of Henry count of Champagne, and[423] Isabella. There was not at that time any nobleman of rule or influence in Palestine capable of governing the state; and the ecclesiastical and civil potentates resolved that Philip Augustus of France should provide a husband for Mary. Philip Augustus fixed his eyes on Jean de Brienne, son of the count of Brienne in Champagne. Though the sovereignty over Jerusalem was titular, yet the command of the Christian army in Palestine, and the possession of a young queen so desirable as the ambassadors painted the daughter of Almeric, were circumstances so flattering to the imagination of an aspiring cavalier, that Jean de Brienne received the gift with joy; and the deputies were dismissed with the promise that in two years he would join them in Palestine with a powerful band. The truce of six years was on the point of expiring, and Saphedin offered to renew it, and to resign to the regency any ten castles or towns they might select, to be retained by them in perpetuity if the Saracens broke their faith. The knights of St. John, and those of the Teutonic order, argued strenuously for the acceptance of this offer; but the spirit of party was always the enemy of Palestine, and the Templars and clergy declared for war.

At the appointed time Jean de Brienne arrived at Acre; the next day he received the hand of Mary, and shortly afterward was crowned, and received the oaths of allegiance of the barons. Only three hundred knights had participated in his hopes of restoring the fortunes of the Holy Land, for the enthusiasm and love of glory of the western chivalry were diverted into new channels. England and Germany were torn by internal disturbances, the court of France was watching the turn of events, and Pope Innocent employed the penitents in putting an end to the heresy of the Albigenses. The destroyers of heretics and of infidels were alike praiseworthy; and a crusade into the south of France was less dangerous than a voyage to Syria. From these various causes the Mussulmans in Asia were forgotten or disregarded.[69] As peace had been refused, Saphedin marched an army to the country round Tripolis. The king displayed his valour in many a fierce encounter; and though he never conquered his foes, yet he broke the impression of the enemy, and saved his states from utter annihilation. He foresaw the approaching ruin of the holy cause; every day the Saracens made some acquisition; and the Latin barons, by every opportunity, and for every pretext, returned to Europe. He wrote, therefore, to the pope that the kingdom of Jerusalem consisted only[424] of two or three towns, and that the civil wars between the sons of Saladin alone suspended its fate.

Every project of ambition which the daring genius of Gregory VII had formed was embraced by the ardent spirit of Innocent III. In raising a fabric of ecclesiastical policy on the ruins of gospel liberty, the importance of guiding the military arm of Europe was not lost sight of. The commands of the Vatican were hurled upon every part of Europe, calling men to exterminate infidelity. The protection of St. Peter was promised to the families and fortunes of the pilgrims. They who had bound themselves to pay usury were released from their oaths; and secular power should compel the Jews to remit their claims. The indulgences were revoked which had been granted to those who quitted their homes in order to exterminate heresy in Provence, and infidelity in Spain.

Among those who most loudly and successfully pleaded the cause of religion was Robert de Courçon; a man inferior in talents and consideration to St. Bernard, but whose fanaticism was as fervent as that of Peter and Fulk. By parentage and birth he was an Englishman; but he had been educated in the university of Paris, and in that famous seat of learning had lived as a friend with a fellow student, who afterwards sat in the papal chair, under the title of Pope Innocent III. The associate of his holiness was promoted to various dignities in the church; his talents for business were employed by Innocent in clerical embassies, and his abilities as a public orator were matured under the care of Fulk de Neuilly. He was the papal legate in France, and after having appeased the foreign and internal distractions of that kingdom, he quitted Paris in 1215, descended by the way of Burgundy to the southern provinces, left no quarter of the south unvisited; and then, after having traversed with speed and success the western provinces, the saint-errant returned to the capital. Twenty years before he had preached the same theme to the same people, as the humble assistant of Fulk. Clad in the Roman purple, and armed with the authority of the vicar of Jesus Christ, the cardinal gave every possible dignity to the office of missionary. But his prudence kept not pace with his zeal, for, like Peter the Hermit, he admitted everyone to take the cross. Women, children, the old, the blind, the lame, the lepers, all were enrolled in the sacred militia. The multitude of the crusaders was innumerable, and the voluntary offerings of money which was put into the charitable boxes in the churches were immense. Philip Augustus contributed the fortieth part of his revenues; and it is singular that this money was to be employed for purposes of the holy war, agreeably to the directions of the kings and barons of France and England. But the alms of the people of France were not applied exclusively to sacred purposes. Robert de Courçon was openly convicted of peculation, and his papal friend was obliged to remit his own dignity, and intercede with the French prelates, in order to save the legate from punishment.

The pope, treading in the steps of his predecessors, convoked a general council for the purpose of chastising vice, condemning heresy, and of inducing the princes and people to undertake the sacred expedition. In the month of November, 1215, the religious and political authorities assembled in the church of the Lateran, and the greatness of their number, and their exalted rank, testify the zealous preaching of the pope’s legates. All the clergy (except those who were crusaders) were for three years to contribute the twentieth part of their ecclesiastical revenues; tournaments during the three years of the crusade were forbidden, lest the representation of war should draw men’s attention from war itself. Civil dissensions were to be[425] suspended, and peace was to reign in the Christian world during all the time of the holy contest.

The necessity of extirpating heresy, and quelling rebellion in the south of France, was the pretence of the French king for not embracing the crusade. The emperor Frederick II remained to establish his authority in Apulia and Sicily, and to advance the favourite project of himself and family, and of making Italy the seat of the empire of the West.[70] The Hungarians who had been the scourge of the first crusaders, took the lead on this occasion. Their king, Andrew, incited by the example of his mother Margaret, the wish of his father, and certain political considerations, made a vow to march to Jerusalem. The dukes of Austria and Bavaria, and indeed all the ecclesiastical and secular potentates of lower Germany, joined their forces to those of the monarch. The united army marched to Spalato. The ships of Venice, and other ports of the Adriatic, transported them to Cyprus; and after having enjoyed for a while the pleasures of an island consecrated to Venus, the holy warriors sailed for and arrived at Acre, in company with fresh crowds of crusaders from Marseilles, Genoa, and Brundusium. The Mussulman powers were astonished at, and unprovided for this sudden and large reinforcement of the Latins. The sons of Saphedin were the lords of Syria, while Saphedin himself, retired from the constant toils of royalty, was contented with the respect of the army and people in times of difficulty and danger. The Saracens pressed to the country about Nablus, but not in sufficient numbers to meet the new crusaders, who ravaged the country and slew thousands of their foes. But they did not confine their cruelties to the infidels. The soil of Palestine, in the year in which the present crusaders landed, had been less productive than in most seasons; the soldiers had carried thither no provisions, and when not engaged in distant excursions into the enemy’s territories, they took the shorter course of robbing the private and religious houses of the Latins and Syrians.

Pious exercises, however, re-established order. The ecclesiastical chief of the Latin Christians led the army in religious procession across the river of Kishon, to the valley of Jezreel. They bathed in the Jordan, made their pilgrimage to the Lake of Gennesaret, observed with devout awe the scenes of various miracles performed by Christ, and returned to Acre. But they soon repaired their wasted strength, and trod with holy reverence the road to the scene of the transfiguration. The ascent to Mount Tabor, however, was difficult; and the summit was defended by a strongly garrisoned tower.[426] Attached as much to pilgrimages as to war, the crusaders went in holy order to Tyre and Sidon; but the inclemency of the season drove them into disorder, and the Saracens made dreadful havoc on their divided parties. The Christians separated for the remainder of the winter. The kings of Cyprus and Hungary repaired to Tripolis; and if the people were grieved at the death of the former of these princes, their feelings were quickly changed into indignation against the latter. Neither the entreaties nor the threats of the clergy could persuade the unstable Andrew to remain in Palestine. Taking with him most of his soldiers and stores, he traversed Armenia and the Greek Empire, and at last returned to his kingdom, which had been so deeply exhausted by this expensive expedition, that it did not for years recover its pristine strength.

The king of Jerusalem, the duke of Austria, and the master of the Hospitallers, took up a strong position on the plains of Cæsarea. The Templars, the Teutonic knights, and Walter d’Avesnes, occupied Mount Carmel, and their station was defended by a tower which the Templars had formerly erected, for the defence and protection of the Jerusalem pilgrims. In the spring of the following year they were joined by new and zealous crusaders from the north of Germany. Cologne had been the rendezvous, and nearly three hundred vessels sailed from the Rhine. Many of the ships were wrecked by the violence of the autumnal winds, and the remainder anchored off the Portuguese shore. By the aid of the Germans, the queen of Portugal took Alcacer from the Moors. Conscience and valour would be equally satisfied by the slaughter of Saracens, in whatever country they might be. As soon as the Cologne reinforcements arrived, the chiefs assembled in council, and it was agreed that siege should be laid to Damietta, which was looked upon as the key of Egypt. A voyage of a few days brought the Christian army within sight of Damietta. The catapults and ballistæ shook the walls of the citadel to their foundations, and the garrison was happy in surrendering to the discretion of the besiegers.

Before the joy of the Christians had subsided, news arrived of the death of Saphedin. The power of his house had lately been strengthened by the death of the sultan of Mosul, the last great supporter of the name of the atabegs. But Saphedin did not live to complete the addition of all Mosul to his empire of Damascus and Egypt. The brother of Saladin has been variously represented, according to the different feelings with which he was regarded. But the crusaders had such a limited knowledge of oriental affairs, that their invectives cannot be opposed to the reputation which he acquired for virtue and ability. His second son, Coradin, the prince of Syria and Palestine, did not proclaim the death of his father till he had secured himself in the possession of the royal coffers. Discord and rebellion were universal throughout Egypt, when the news arrived of the death of Saphedin; and his son Kamil, lord of that country, was compelled to fly into Arabia for protection from his mutinous people.

After the surrender of the castle of Damietta, the acquisition of the city appeared so easy an achievement, that the besieging army sunk into inertness and dissoluteness. The sultan of Syria had anticipated the fall of Damietta, the sultan of Egypt despaired of its defence, and no wisdom could calculate the magnitude of the effects which its capture might produce. Prudence suggested the policy of negotiation, and the Latins were therefore offered the piece of the true cross, the city of Jerusalem, and all the prisoners in Syria and Egypt. The Mussulmans were to rebuild the walls of the sacred city. Of the whole kingdom of Palestine they only proposed to[427] retain the castles of Karak and Montreal, as necessary for the safe passage of the Meccan pilgrims and merchants. The evacuation of Egypt was the equivalent expected from the Christians for these important concessions.

All the legitimate consequences of the Crusades were at the command of the soldiers of the cross. The king, the French, the earl of Chester, and the Teutonic knights hailed with joy the prospect of the termination of the war. But the legate, the bishops, the Italians, the Templars, and Hospitallers were deaf to counsels of moderation. They contended that no faith could be reposed upon the promises of infidels, unless peace was made at the point of a victorious sword. The siege had already lasted seventeen months, and it would be disgraceful to fly from the fair prospect of success. Unhappily for the general interests of the Christian cause, the mild suggestions of policy were disregarded amidst the clamours of thoughtless valour. Hostilities were recommenced. The besiegers interrupted all communication between the Egyptian army and the garrison of Damietta. Resistance was fruitless, but the Mussulmans were too brave and too proud to surrender. The legate and the king assaulted the walls, and soon entered the city, with the same ruthless feelings as had maddened the early crusaders, when they first leaped on the battlements of Jerusalem.

But revenge sought its victims in vain. Damietta was one vast charnel-house. Of a population, which at the beginning of the siege consisted of more than seventy thousand souls, three thousand only were the relics. The conquerors marched through a pestilential vapour. The streets, the mosques, and the houses were strewn with dead bodies. From scenes of death the Christians turned to plunder. Damietta was as rich a city as any in Islam, and the terrible anathemas of the legate could not prevent self-appropriation of spoil. Dominion over the place was given to the king of Jerusalem. The splendid mosque was converted into a Christian church, and dedicated to the Virgin and all the apostles. But the soldiers were soon compelled to return to the camp, for pestilence was in the city. Life and liberty were granted to the surviving Mussulmans, on their performing the horrid and melancholy task of cleansing the city from the remains of their relations and friends.

So great was the terror which the loss of Damietta spread among the Mussulmans, that the fortress of Tanis surrendered. By this acquisition, the way into Palestine was open. But instead of urging their advantages, the army passed the winter in luxury and in discord, and in the spring more than half of the soldiers returned to Europe. The power of the legate was supreme, and the king of Jerusalem retired in disgust to Acre. The duke of Bavaria, and many knights from Germany and Italy, arrived, as soon as the weather would permit the passage; but they disdained to submit to the command of a bishop, and Pelagius was compelled to solicit with humility the return of the king. Jean de Brienne repaired to Damietta, and a council was held on the subject of hostile operations. The conquest of Egypt was resolved upon, and the army marched by the eastern side of the Fatimite branch of the Nile, till their progress was arrested by the canal of Ashmun. On the southern side of that canal the Mussulman forces were posted. Every sultan of Syria had sent assistance to their brother in the faith, and the allied troops under Kamil could cope with the Latins in the field.

The sultan, however, would not trust his kingdom to the caprice of fortune. He offered peace to the Christians on nearly the same terms as those which had been proposed previously to the last assault on Damietta. The[428] legate refused with indignation these noble offers; but instead of crossing the canal and giving the enemy battle, he remained for more than a month inactive on his post expecting the unconditional surrender of the sultan. During this time the Nile had rapidly increased in height. The Mussulmans opened the sluices and inundated their enemy’s camp. The Christians could neither advance nor retreat; and, to use the humble simile of a Templar, they were enclosed like a fish in a net. When the overflowings of the Nile had swept away all the tents and baggage, Pelagius sent an embassy to the Mussulman camp, imploring a safe return to Acre, and offering to surrender Damietta and Tanis to the Mussulmans. The distress of the Christian army was mitigated by the humanity of Kamil. The king of Jerusalem was one of the hostages, and in an interview with the sultan, he wept for the miserable state of his army. “Why do you weep?” inquired the sultan. “I have reason to weep,” replied the king, “for the people whom God has given into my charge, are perishing in the midst of the waters, or dying of hunger.” The sultan shed tears of pity, and opened the Egyptian granaries for their relief. When, after eight months’ possession by the Latins, Damietta was delivered into the power of the Mussulmans, the hostages were exchanged, and the Christian army retreated to the seacoast, through the road by which they had advanced in full confidence of victory. The barons of Syria, and the military orders, retired to Acre; and the volunteers returned to Europe.

The pope cast all the odium on the emperor Frederick, a man who had thrice sworn to redeem the Holy Land, and had compromised with his conscience by merely sending soldiers and provisions. Frederick despised the thunders of the Vatican; but although he was not awed by force, he could not resist papal artifice. Honorius soothed his irritated mind, and received him again as a faithful son of the church. Hermann von Salza, master of the Teutonic order, returned to Europe, and gave the emperor the hope of being the redeemer of Palestine. Yolande, the daughter of the king of Jerusalem, could easily be obtained in marriage, and her father would cede his rights, which he was wearied of endeavouring to convert into an actual and firm dominion. The emperor and the pope approved of this project. Frederick accepted from the king of Jerusalem a renunciation of all his claims to the Holy Land, as the dowry of Yolande; and he pledged his honour to the pope, the cardinals, and the masters of the Hospitallers and Teutonic knights, that he would within two years travel with a powerful army into the East, and re-establish the throne of Godfrey de Bouillon. For the succeeding five years, rebellions in Italy, and the insurrections of the Saracens in Sicily, detained the emperor from his purpose. Honorius did not live to witness the event of his exertions, but his successor, Gregory IX, was equally furious in the cause.

At the time appointed for the sailing of the expedition, Brundusium and its vicinity were crowded with soldiers. But the heats of summer destroyed the health of the people of the north; thousands died, and of those who endeavoured to return to their homes, the greatest part perished through poverty or disease. Although the emperor did not escape the common illness, yet he embarked at Brundusium. But after sailing for three days, additional infirmity compelled him to return. Gregory inherited the papal virtues of violence and ambition; he pronounced a sentence of excommunication against the emperor, for declining to combat the enemy of God.[71]

[429]

The thunders of the Vatican rolled again and again over the head of the emperor, but the author of them suffered more than the object. The emperor sent troops into the papal territories, who ravaged the march of Ancona, and the patrimony of St. Peter. Such of the Hospitallers and Templars (the firm friends of the pope) as had estates in the imperial dominions in Italy, were plundered and dispossessed.[72] The emperor heavily taxed his subjects, both churchmen and laity, for the expenses of the holy war. In defiance of Gregory’s warnings against his entering on the crusade, till he should be relieved from the censures of the church, Frederick embarked at Brundusium in August, 1228, and arrived shortly afterwards at Acre. The joy of the Christians at the arrival of the emperor was soon checked by letters which the patriarch received from the pope, prohibiting the faithful from obeying a rebellious son of the church. The Teutonic knights feared no clerical censures; and at their head, and of some other soldiers, the emperor quitted Acre, went to Joppa, and repaired the fortifications of that important city. He then made further advances towards Jerusalem.

While matters were in this state, news was brought to the emperor of an effectual method which the pope had taken of preventing him from continuing the war in Palestine with the enemies of Christ. The pope’s troops, of whom Jean de Brienne (the father-in-law of Frederick) was one of the chief commanders, burned the imperial towns in Italy, imprisoned, tortured, and robbed the people. The duke of Spalato, the emperor’s lieutenant, had been unable successfully to resist, though the imperial army had been but little impaired by Frederick’s foreign expedition. These circumstances made the emperor anxious to return to Europe; a treaty was immediately signed. For ten years the Christians and Mussulmans were to live upon terms of brotherhood. Jerusalem, Joppa, Bethlehem, Nazareth, and their appendages, were restored to the Christians. The Holy Sepulchre likewise was given to them; and the people of both religions might offer up their prayers in the place of devotion, which the former class called the temple of Solomon, and the latter named the mosque of Omar. The address of Frederick more effectually promoted the object of the holy wars than the heroic frenzy of Richard; many of the disasters consequent on the battle of Tiberias were wiped away, and the serious and habitual hopes of Europe, for a permanent settlement in Asia, seemed to be realised. But the barons of the Holy Land, breathing interminable war, and secretly envying superior genius, avowed indignation that a Christian sovereign should accept the friendship of the infidels. The patriarch and clergy hated an excommunicated prince; a man too who had given licence to the Saracens to adore their God in a Christian temple. With some appearance of reason, however, they contended that the treaty was not binding on the Mussulmans while the approbation of the sultan of Damascus was withheld. But, despising the blood-thirstiness of the barons, and the cruel bigotry of the priests, Frederick asserted his royal prerogatives; and, as he had acquired some of the old possessions of the Bouillon family, he avowed his intention of having the crown placed upon his head in the Holy City agreeably to constitutional forms.

[430]

Some persons, discontented with the conditions of the treaty, wished to betray him into the hands of the sultan of Egypt. The guilt of this treachery lies between the Hospitallers and the Templars. Kamil read the letter which conveyed to him the news, exclaimed to his associates, “See the fidelity of these Christian dogs”; and despatched a friend to Frederick with the paper which he had received. The emperor repaired to Jerusalem; but no hosannas welcomed his approach. By the command of the patriarch no religious ceremonies were performed in the churches during his stay. Even the German prelates preferred their spiritual to their temporal allegiance; and the emperor, accompanied only by his courtiers and the Teutonic knights, went to the church of the sepulchre. He boldly took the crown from the altar, and placed it on his own head, and Hermann von Salza pronounced a laudatory oration. Orders were then given for the restoration of the city’s walls, and the emperor returned to Acre. In that city too there was every demonstration of sorrow at his appearance. Mass was performed in secret; the churches were deprived of their ornaments; the bells were not rung, and the dead were interred without any religious ceremony. But by some well-measured acts of severity, a semblance of respect was at length shown to the emperor; and he then returned to Europe, leaving the priests and people to thank Heaven for his departure.

Few parts of the Crusades are more difficult to understand, and to reduce into a clear and intelligible form, than the expedition of Frederick. He was vilified by the Templars and Hospitallers, and other friends of the pope; and their narratives of events are more numerous than those of the imperial party. He gained more for the Christians than any prince had acquired since the first establishment of the kingdom; and if the pope had not hated him worse than his holiness hated the Saracens, and thereby caused his return to Europe, there is every probability that after the death of the sultan of Damascus, the emperor would have brought matters to an issue completely triumphant. Gregory IX and his clergy had the effrontery to tell the world that Frederick had left the sepulchre of Christ in the hands of the infidels. But the fact was that it was given to the Christians. The temple of Solomon indeed, or rather the mosque of Omar, was left in the hands of the Mussulmans; a right of visiting it, however, being allowed to the Christians.c

FOOTNOTES

---

[431]

CHAPTER VI. THE LAST CRUSADES

The council of Spoleto decreed that fresh levies should be sent into Asia on the expiration of the truce with Kamil. The Franciscans and Dominicans were the bearers of the resolutions to the princes and people of Christendom. But it was soon apparent that the recovery of the Holy Land was not the paramount consideration in the mind of Gregory IX, for the preaching of the crusade once more became the means of filling the papal coffers. By the different engines of persuasion and compulsion, the missionaries gained numberless converts, and then allowed the unwilling, and compelled the wealthy crusaders to give the church great largesses in exchange for the[432] vow. The once humble friars grew so rich by these exactions, that their pride and magnificence were detestable in the eyes of the people. These disgraceful scenes were acted in England for two years; but the indignation of society at the avarice of the pope was so strong, that the preaching ceased. Some of the English nobility were inflamed by the love of warlike praise, and took the cross with no intention of submitting to a pecuniary commutation. The earl of Chester, and also Richard, earl of Cornwall, brother to King Henry II, prepared to measure lances with the Saracens.

RICHARD OF CORNWALL’S CRUSADE (THE SEVENTH)

The desire of crusading was influenced by events in Palestine. A truce between the sultan of Aleppo and the Templars expired with the life of the Mussulman prince; and when his successor renewed the war with them, they sustained so severe a defeat, that every commandery in Europe sent them succours; and even the Hospitallers resolved to avenge the death of their rivals. Three hundred knights and a considerable body of stipendiaries went from London.

The spirit of crusading burned in France, particularly in the middle and southern provinces; and many barons assembled at Lyons in order to concert the means of giving effect to their common desire. But a legate of the pope interrupted their councils with announcing the commands of his master for the dissolving of the assembly, and the return of the members to their homes. The barons remonstrated against this versatility of opinion in an infallible guide. The nuncio was contumeliously dismissed. Most of the nobility pressed forwards to Marseilles, and hoisted sail for the Holy Land. Indignant at their contempt of his wishes, the emperor prohibited the governors of Apulia and other countries from affording aid to the crusaders. This measure prevented many parties of cavaliers from pursuing the voyage; but it did not impede those fanatical and romantic warriors, the king of Navarre, the duke of Burgundy, and the counts of Bar and Brittany, from continuing their course to Acre.

News of the warlike preparations of Europe had been communicated to the sultan of Egypt; and the first moment when the faith of treaties opposed not a hostile course, he drove the Latins out of Jerusalem, and overthrew the tower of David, which, until that time, had always been regarded as sacred by all classes of religionists. After this capture Kamil died; various princes of Syria and Egypt asserted their pretensions to the vacant throne; but the military spirit was too active among the Mussulmans, to allow the Christians rationally to hope that they should eventually profit by these dissensions. The war began by a successful irruption of the count of Brittany into the Damascene territories. But in the vicinity of Gaza three hundred Frenchmen, who wished to imitate the glory of the cavaliers of Brittany, were defeated by a smaller number of Turks.

The pope renewed his endeavours to persuade the English to commute their piety for gold, but his ministers, the Franciscans and Dominicans, were treated only with contempt; and in the spring of the year 1240, Richard, earl of Cornwall, William Longespee or Longsword, Theodore, the prior of the Hospitallers, and many others of the nobility, embarked at Dover. The arrival of Richard and the other barons at Acre, took place shortly after the signature of the discordant treaties between the Templars and the emir of Karak, and the Hospitallers with the sultan of Egypt. The English were[433] astonished to find that the king of Navarre and the count of Brittany had fled from the plains of Syria, when they received intelligence of the departure of reinforcements from Europe. The emir of Karak, too, could not fulfil his treaty, or even restore to the Templars the prisoners which had been made in the battle of Gaza. Richard marched to Joppa, but as the sultan of Egypt (then at war with the sultan of Damascus) sent to offer him terms of peace, he prudently seized the benefits of negotiation. With the consent of the duke of Burgundy, the master of the Hospitallers, and other lords of high degree, he accepted a renunciation of Jerusalem, Berytus, Nazareth, Bethlehem, Mount Tabor, and most of the Holy Land. An exchange of prisoners was to cement the union. The great object of the crusaders seemed now to be accomplished. Palestine belonged to the Christians. Richard returned to Europe, and was received in every town as the deliverer of the Holy Sepulchre. From neglect or inability he had not induced the Templars to consent to his completion of the hopes of the West; and in spleen and revenge the cavaliers renewed those unfraternal altercations with other knights which had hastened the ruin of the kingdom in the time of Saladin (1241).

The Hospitallers opened their treasury for the re-edification of the walls of Jerusalem. The patriarch and clergy entered the sacred city, and reconsecrated the churches. For two years Christianity was the only religion administered in Jerusalem, and the faithful began to exult in the apparent permanent downfall of infidelity, when a new enemy arose more dreadful than even the Mussulmans.

THE TATAR CREVASSE

The great Tatarian princes, Jenghiz Khan and his successors, had obliterated the vast empire of Khwarizm; and the expelled and defeated Tatars fled to the south. The storm rolled on towards Egypt, the Khwarizmians demanded a settlement; the sultan was the only Moslem prince who entered into treaties with those barbarians; and he advised them to fix themselves in Palestine. He sent one of his principal emirs, and a large body of troops as their guides and coadjutors, and at the head of twenty thousand horse, Barbacan, the Khwarizmian general entered the Holy Land. The Christians in Jerusalem heard with dismay that the Tatarian tempest had reached their territories. It was evident from the ruined state of the walls that Jerusalem was no longer tenable. The cavaliers, and many of the inhabitants, abandoned the sacred city.

The Khwarizmians entered it, spared neither lives nor property, and violated both Christian and Mussulman sanctuaries. In the wantonness of cruelty they disinterred the departed great, and made a cremation of venerable remains. The insulting fanatics of savageness murdered priests round the altars, exclaiming while they stabbed the holy men, “Let us pour their blood on the place where they poured out wine in commemoration of their crucified God.” As crafty as ferocious, they planted a banner of the cross upon the walls, and, deceived by this joyful appearance, several thousands of the fugitives returned to the city, but only to partake of the miserable doom of their friends.

The repeated solicitations of the Templars at length brought four thousand soldiers from their Syrian allies. The united Christian and Mussulman forces were so far inferior to the Tatars, that policy required a course of measures perfectly defensive. But the fury of the patriarch precipitated[434] the army into the gulf of destruction. The awful conflict raged for two days. The soldiers of Damascus and Emesa were soon slain, or scattered. The loss of every part of the army was great, almost beyond example. Only sixteen Hospitallers, thirty-three Templars, and three Teutonic cavaliers remained alive and free. These soldiers fled to Acre, and that city became the refuge of the Christians. After having razed the fortifications of Askalon, and the castle of Tiberias, the Khwarizmians and Egyptians encamped on the plains of Acre, devastated the country, and slew or led into captivity all straggling Franks.

A united force of Khwarizmians and mamelukes conquered Damascus, and Europe heard with dismay that the Mussulman power was again consolidating. But the members soon were separated, for the sultan of Egypt, faithless as cruel, denied his allies a permanent settlement on the shores of the Nile. The soldiers of fortune flew to the banner of the Damascene prince, and assisted him in his efforts to recover his capital. But the cause of the mamelukes was felt as the common interest of the Moslem world, and all Syria, as well as all Egypt, was in arms in order to exterminate the northern barbarians. In a general engagement the Khwarizmians were defeated and scattered. Barbacan was slain, and southern Asia recovered from its panic and distress.

THE CRUSADE OF ST. LOUIS (THE EIGHTH)

The superstition of a French king, and the successes of the savage Khwarizmians, gave birth to the Eighth Crusade. Pope Innocent IV convoked a general council at Lyons; the Bishop of Berytus described the effects of the Tatarian storm, and left his ecclesiastical brethren to conclude, whether one effort should not be made for a restoration of things to the state in which Richard, earl of Cornwall, had left them. It was accordingly resolved that a crusade should be preached throughout Christendom, and that for four years peace and seriousness should reign over Europe. Such of the faithful as did not expose their persons in the holy cause were to give the subsidiary aid of treasure; and the contribution to be made by the cardinals was fixed at a tenth, and that of the other ecclesiastics at a twentieth part of their yearly revenues.

The pope wrote to Henry III, king of England, urging him to press on his subjects the necessity of punishing the Khwarizmians. But the spirit of crusading raged more strongly in France than in any other country of the West; and it revived in all its fierceness of piety and chivalry in Louis IX. Agreeably to the temper of the times, he had vowed, whilst afflicted by a severe illness, that in case of recovery he would travel to the Holy Land. In the delirium of his fever, he had beheld an engagement between the Christians and the Saracens; the infidels were victorious, and the brave king of a valiant nation fancied it his duty to avenge the defeat. The victories of the Khwarizmians were a realisation of part of his dream, and his preparations[435] had anticipated the decrees of the Lyonese council. This vow was made about the year 1244, according to Nangis and Chronicle of St. Denis, cited in Du Cange’s notes. From the moment of his resolving to go to the Holy Land, St. Louis quitted all pomp of dress; he exchanged his purple for black, a royal for a religious habit. During the crusade he abstained from wearing scarlet, vair, or ermine. The example of the monarch gave efficacy to the laws regarding simplicity of dress, and the lord of Joinville assures us, that, during the whole time he was attending the king on his crusade, he never once saw an embroidered coat of arms. The French barons, however, when resident in Damietta, were less rigid in morality than in dress. The cross was likewise taken by the three royal brothers, the counts of Artois, Poitiers, and Anjou, by the duke of Burgundy, the countess of Flanders, and her two sons, the count of St. Paul, and many other knights.

Sentiments of respect for the king of France were not felt in his country alone; the people of England revered his name, and avowedly in imitation of his example, the bishop of Salisbury, William Longespee, Walter de Lucy, and many other English nobles and gentlemen were crossed. William Longespee was, or feigned himself, poor, and went to Rome to solicit the aid of the pope. He returned to England, and extorted more than a thousand marks from the religious, while the less scrupulous or more powerful earl of Cornwall was insatiable in his avarice, and gained from one archdeacon alone, six hundred pounds. Political circumstances detained St. Louis in France for three years; but the money and troops which he sent to the Holy Land invigorated the hopes of the Latin Christians. The ranks of the military orders were recruited by hired troops and regular knights from the different stations in Europe.

On the 12th of June, 1248, Louis, attended by his three brothers, went to the abbey of St. Denis, and received from the pope’s legate the oriflamme, the alms’ purse, and pilgrim’s staff. He sailed from France at the end of August, and arrived in September at Cyprus, the appointed rendezvous for his barons and their vassals. The king remained eight months in Cyprus, employed in organising his troops, in works of piety, and particularly in healing the breaches in charity between the military orders. The Venetians and other people assisted the French with provisions; on one occasion the supplies of the emperor Frederick preserved the army, and the grateful king implored the pope to absolve a man who had been benevolent to the soldiers of the church. The ambassadors of a Tatarian prince appeared before Louis, offering their master’s aid to root the Saracens and pagans out of the Holy Land. The king sent a magnificent present to his ally, in order to bribe him to become a Christian. Two black monks, who understood the Arabic language, were charged with the missionary office, and their eloquence and embroidered representation of some of the mysteries of Christianity were to effect the conversion of the Scythian savage and his court. In the spring of the year 1249, the soldiers of Louis were mustered, and his ships prepared for sea; fifty thousand men formed his military force, and eighteen hundred was the number of his transports, palendars, and store ships. They set sail for Egypt; a storm separated the fleet, and the royal division, in which were nearly three thousand knights and their men-at-arms, arrived off Damietta.

The shores were lined by the sultan’s troops, who astonished the French by the clangour of trumpets and brazen drums. The heralds of the king of France instantly went to the sultan, Nejm ad-Din (a son of Kamil), near Ashmun, and spared no language of exaggeration in describing the power of their master. The only way to avoid the tempest was to receive priests[436] who would teach the Christian religion to the people of Egypt:[73] otherwise he would pursue them everywhere, and God should decide to whom the country should be given. The sultan replied that he also knew the use of arms, and like the French, inherited valour. The cause of the Mussulmans was that of justice; and the Koran declared, that they who made war unjustly should perish.

Some of the knights wished to dissuade the king from landing, till the appearance of their brethren in arms; but on the second day after their arrival, Louis commanded the disembarkation; he himself leaped into the water; his shield was suspended from his neck, his helmet was on his head, and his lance on his wrist. His soldiers followed him to the shore; and the Saracens, panic-struck at their boldness and determination, made but a slight show of defence, and fled into the interior of the country. Although Damietta was better prepared for a siege than in those days when it had sustained an attack of eighteen months’ duration, yet the garrison sought safety in the fleetness of their horses. They were received at Cairo with the indignation which their cowardice merited; and the sultan (who had repaired thither from Ashmun) strangled fifty of the chiefs. The people of Damietta loaded themselves with their most valuable effects, set fire to the part of the city in which their merchandise and plunder were collected, and then took flight for Cairo. Louis fixed his residence in the city; a Christian government was established; and the clergy, agreeably to old custom, purified the mosques. According to ancient usage, one-third part of the spoil should have been allotted to the general-in-chief, and the remaining portions had been usually divided among the pilgrims; but, at the suggestion of the patriarch of Jerusalem, Louis ordered that the corn and provisions should form a magazine for the common benefit of the army; and he retained to himself the rest of the movable booty.

Neither the religious character of the war, nor the importance of preserving military discipline, had any effect on the conduct of the holy warriors. So general was the immorality, that the king could not stop the foul and noxious torrent. The hope of the reward of a piece of gold for an enemy’s head, inspirited the Mussulmans to many enterprises of difficulty and danger; but Louis prevented at length their incursions into his camp, for he surrounded it with deep ditches, and his cross-bowmen galled the approaching parties of Mussulman cavalry. The French looked with impatience for the count of Poitiers and the arrière-ban of France, the remainder of the force which had sailed from Cyprus, and had been driven to Acre in the tempest. In October 1249 the count of Poitiers reached Egypt. The French also were joined by two hundred English knights.

THE BATTLE OF MANSURA

At the close of November, the army commenced its march to the capital of Egypt. Until their approach to the vicinity of Mansura, they overcame the open and insidious enmity of the Saracens. Soon after his departure[437] from Damietta, the king accepted the proffered aid of five hundred horsemen of the sultan, and commanded his army to respect their guides. Vainly thinking that this order was inflexible to circumstances, the Saracens attacked the Templars, who formed the van of the army. But the valiant knights rallied round their grand master, and invoking God to aid them in this perilous conjuncture, they rushed upon and destroyed their treacherous foes. Fakhr ad-Din, the Egyptian emir, and his army were encamped on the opposite side of the Ashmun canal, which the French in vain endeavoured to cross. They commenced a causeway over the canal; but the Saracens ruined in a day the work of a month; and even crossed the Nile by one of the passages which were familiar to them and gave battle to the enemy.b

It is so hard for the layman to get a true idea of the chaos and disintegrated nature of a battle, that a realistic account of how St. Louis fought the Saracens is well worth quoting, especially from the pen of the lord of Joinville whose sword was busy in these very scenes.a

DE JOINVILLE’S ACCOUNT OF THE BATTLE OF MANSURA

A Bedouin had lately come to say that if we would give him five hundred golden besants, he would show a safe ford, which might easily be crossed on horseback. The day appointed for this purpose was Shrove-Tuesday, which, when arrived, we all mounted our horses, and armed at all points, followed the Bedouin to the ford. On our way thither, some advanced too near the banks of the river, which being soft and slippery, they and their horses fell in and were drowned. The king seeing it, pointed it out to the rest, that they might be more careful and avoid similar danger. Among those that were drowned was that valiant knight Sir John d’Orleans, who bore the banner of the army. When we came to the ford, we saw on the opposite bank full three hundred Saracen cavalry ready to defend this passage. We entered the river, and our horses found a tolerable ford with firm footing, so that by ascending the stream we found an easy shore, and through God’s mercy we all crossed over with safety. The Saracens, observing us thus cross, fled away with the utmost despatch.

Before we set out, the king had ordered that the Templars should form the van, and the count d’Artois his brother should command the second division of the army; but the moment the count d’Artois had passed the ford with all his people, and saw the Saracens flying, they stuck spurs into their horses and galloped after them; for which those who formed the van were much angered at the count d’Artois, who could not make any answer, on account of Sir Foucquault du Melle, who held the bridle of his horse; and Sir Foucquault, being deaf, heard nothing the Templars were saying to the count d’Artois, but kept bawling out, “Forward, forward!” When the Templars perceived this, they thought they should be dishonoured if they allowed the count d’Artois thus to take the lead, and with one accord they spurred their horses to their fastest speed, pursuing the Saracens through the town of Mansura, as far as the plains before Babylon; but on their return the Turks shot at them plenty of arrows and other artillery, as they[438] repassed through the narrow streets of the town. The count d’Artois and the lord de Coucy, of the name of Raoul, were there slain, and as many as three hundred other[74] knights. The Templars lost, as their chief informed me, full fourteen score men at arms and horses. My knights, as well as myself, noticing on our left a large body of Turks who were arming, instantly charged them; and when we were advanced into the midst of them, I perceived a sturdy Saracen mounting his horse, which was held by one of his esquires by the bridle, and while he was putting his hand on the saddle to mount, I gave him such a thrust with my spear, which I pushed as far as I was able, that he fell down dead. The esquire, seeing his lord dead, abandoned master and horse; but, watching my motions, on my return struck me with his lance such a blow between the shoulders as drove me on my horse’s neck, and held me there so tightly that I could not draw my sword, which was girthed round me. I was forced to draw another sword which was at the pommel of my saddle, and it was high time; but, when he saw I had my sword in my hand, he withdrew his lance which I had seized and ran from me.

It chanced that I and my knights had traversed the army of the Saracens, and saw here and there different parties of them, to the amount of about six thousand, who, abandoning their quarters, had advanced into the plain. On perceiving that we were separated from the main body, they boldly attacked us, and slew Sir Hugues de Trichatel, lord d’Escoflans, who bore the banner of our company. They also made prisoner Sir Raoul de Wanon, of our company, whom they had struck to the ground. As they were carrying him off, my knights and myself knew him, and instantly hastened, with great courage, to assist him, and deliver him from their hands. In returning from this engagement the Turks gave me such heavy blows, that my horse, not being able to withstand them, fell on his knees, and threw me to the ground over his head. I very shortly replaced my shield on my breast, and grasped my spear, during which time the lord Errart d’Esmeray, whose soul may God pardon! advanced towards me, for he had also been struck down by the enemy; and we retreated together towards an old ruined house to wait for the king, who was coming, and I found means to recover my horse. As we were going to this house, a large body of Turks came galloping towards us, but passed on to a party of ours whom they saw hard by; as they passed, they struck me to the ground, with my shield over my neck, and galloped over me, thinking I was dead; and indeed I was nearly so. When they were gone, my companion Sir Errart came and raised me up, and we went to the walls of the ruined house. Thither also had retired Sir Hugues d’Escosse, Sir Ferreys de Loppei, Sir Regnault de Menoncourt, and several others; and there also the Turks came to attack us, more bravely than ever, on all sides. Some of them entered within the walls, and were a long time fighting with us at spear’s length, during which my knights gave me my horse, which they held, lest he should run away, and at the same time so vigorously defended us against the Turks, that they were greatly praised by several able persons who witnessed their prowess.

Sir Hugues d’Escosse was desperately hurt by three great wounds in the face and elsewhere. Sir Raoul and Sir Ferreys were also badly wounded in their shoulders, so that the blood spouted out just like to a tun of wine when tapped. Sir Errart d’Esmeray was so severely wounded in the face by[439] a sword, the stroke of which cut off his nose, that it hung down over his mouth. In this severe distress, I called to my mind St. James, and said, “Good Lord St. James, succour me, I beseech thee; and come to my aid in this time of need.” I had scarcely ended my prayer, when Sir Errart said to me, “Sir, if I did not think you might suppose it was done to abandon you and save myself, I would go to my lord of Anjou, whom I see on the plain, and beg he would hasten to your help.” “Sir Errart,” I replied, “you will do me great honour and pleasure, if you will go and seek succour to save our lives; for your own also is in great peril”; and I said truly, for he died of the wound he had received. All were of my opinion that he should seek for assistance; and I then quitting hold of the rein of his bridle, he galloped towards the count d’Anjou, to request he would support us in the danger we were in. There was a great lord with him who wished to detain him, but the good prince would not attend to what he urged, but, spurring his horse, galloped towards us followed by his men. The Saracens, observing them coming, left us; but when on their arrival they saw the Saracens carrying away their prisoner, Sir Raoul de Wanon, badly wounded, they hastened to recover him, and brought him back in a most pitiful state. Shortly after, I saw the king arrive with all his attendants, and with a terrible noise of trumpets, clarions, and horns. He halted on an eminence, with his men at arms, for something he had to say; and I assure you I never saw so handsome a man under arms. He was taller than any of his troop by the shoulders; and his helmet, which was gilded, was handsomely placed on his head; and he bore a German sword in his hand. Soon after he had halted, many of his knights were observed intermixed with the Turks; their companions instantly rushed into the battle among them; and you must know, that in this engagement were performed, on both sides, the most gallant deeds that were ever done in this expedition to the Holy Land; for none made use of the bow, cross-bow, or other artillery. But the conflict consisted of blows given to each other by battle-axes, swords, butts of spears, all mixed together. From all I saw, my knights and myself, all wounded as we were, were very impatient to join the battle with the others. Shortly after, one of my esquires, who had once fled from my banner, came to me, and brought me one of my Flemish war-horses; I was soon mounted, and rode by the side of the king, whom I found attended by that discreet man, Sir John de Valeri. Sir John seeing the king desirous to enter into the midst of the battle, advised him to make for the riverside on the right, in order that in case there should be any danger, he might have support from the duke of Burgundy and his army, which had been left behind to guard the camp; and likewise that his men might be refreshed and have wherewith to quench their thirst; for the weather was at this moment exceedingly hot.

As this was doing, Sir Humbert de Beaujeu, constable of France, came up, and told the king that his brother, the count d’Artois, was much pressed in a house at Mansura, where, however, he defended himself gallantly, but[440] that he would need speedy assistance; and entreated the king to go to his aid. The king replied, “Constable, spur forward, and I will follow you close.” All of us now galloped straight to Mansura, and were in the midst of the Turkish army, when we were instantly separated from each other by the greater power of the Saracens and Turks. Shortly after, a serjeant at mace of the constable, with whom I was, came to him, and said the king was surrounded by the Turks, and his person in imminent danger. You may suppose our astonishment and fears, for there were between us and where the king was full one thousand or twelve hundred Turks, and we were only six persons in all. I said to the constable, that since it was impossible for us to make our way through such a crowd of Turks, it would be much better to wheel round and get on the other side of them. This we instantly did. There was a deep ditch on the road we took between the Saracens and us; and, had they noticed us, they must have slain us all; but they were solely occupied with the king, and the larger bodies; perhaps also they might have taken us for some of their friends. As we thus gained the river, following its course downward between it and the road, we observed that the king had ascended it, and that the Turks were sending fresh troops after him. Both armies now met on the banks, and the event was miserably unfortunate; for the weaker part of our army thought to cross over to the division of the duke of Burgundy, but that was impossible from their horses being worn down, and the extreme heat of the weather. As we descended the river, we saw it covered with lances, pikes, shields, men, and horses, unable to save themselves from death. When we perceived the miserable state of our army, I advised the constable to remain on this side of the river to guard a small bridge that was hard by; “for if we leave it,” added I, “the enemy may come and attack the king on this side; and if our men be assaulted in two places, they must be discomfited.”

There then we halted; and you may believe me when I say, that the good king performed that day the most gallant deeds that ever I saw in any battle. It was said, that had it not been for his personal exertions, the whole army would have been destroyed; but I believe that the great courage he naturally possessed was that day doubled by the power of God, for he forced himself wherever he saw his men in any distress, and gave such blows with battle-axe and sword, it was wonderful to behold. The lord de Courtenai and Sir John de Salenai one day told me, that at this engagement six Turks caught hold of the bridle of the king’s horse, and were leading him away; but this virtuous prince exerted himself with such bravery in fighting the six Turks, that he alone freed himself from them; and that many, seeing how valiantly he defended himself, and the great courage he displayed, took greater courage themselves, and abandoning the passage they were guarding, hastened to support the king. After some little time, the count Peter of Brittany came to us who were guarding the small bridge from Mansura, having had a most furious skirmish. He was so badly wounded in the face that the blood came out of his mouth, as if it had been full of water, and he vomited it forth. The count was mounted on a short, thick, but strong horse, and his reins and the pommel of his saddle were cut and destroyed, so that he was forced to hold himself by his two hands round the horse’s neck for fear the Turks, who were close behind him, should make him fall off. He did not, however, seem much afraid of them, for he frequently turned round, and gave them many abusive words by way of mockery.

In our front were two of the king’s heralds; the name of one was Guillaume de Bron, and that of the other John de Gaymaches; against whom the[441] Turks led a rabble of peasants of the country, who pelted them with clods of earth and large stones. At last, they brought a villainous Turk, who thrice flung Greek fires at them; and by one of them was the tabard of Guillaume de Bron set on fire; but he soon threw it off, and good need had he, for if it had set fire to his clothes, he must have been burned. We were also covered with these showers of stones and arrows which the Turks discharged at the two heralds. I luckily found near me a gaubison of coarse cloth which had belonged to a Saracen, and turning the slit part inward, I made a sort of shield, which was of much service to me; for I was only wounded by their shots in five places, whereas my horse was hurt in fifteen. Soon after, as God willed it, one of my vassals of Joinville brought me a banner with my arms, and a long knife of war, which I was in want of; and then, when these Turkish villains, who were on foot, pressed on the heralds, we made a charge on them and put them instantly to flight. Thus when the good count de Soissons and myself were returned to our post on the bridge, after chasing away these peasants, he rallied me, saying, “Seneschal, let us allow this rabble to bawl and bray; and, by the Cresse Dieu,” his usual oath, “you and I will talk over this day’s adventures in the chambers of our ladies.”

It happened that towards evening, about sunset, the constable, Sir Humbert de Beaujeu, brought us the king’s cross-bows that were on foot; and they drew up in one front, while we horsemen dismounted under shelter of the cross-bows. The Saracens observing this immediately took to flight, and left us in peace. The constable told me that we had behaved well in thus guarding the bridge; and bade me go boldly to the king, and not quit him until he should be dismounted in his pavilion. I went to the king, and at the same moment Sir John de Valeri joined, and requested of him, in the name of the lord de Chastillon, that the said lord might command the rear guard, which the king very willingly granted. The king then took the road to return to his pavilion, and raised the helmet from his head, on which I gave him my iron skull-cap, which was much lighter, that he might have more air. Thus as we were riding together, Father Henry, prior of the hospital of Ronnay, who had crossed the river, came to him and kissed his hand, fully armed, and asked if he had heard any news of his brother the count d’Artois. “Yes,” replied the king, “I have heard all”; that is to say, that he knew well he was now in paradise. The prior, thinking to comfort him for the death of his brother, continued, “Sire, no king of France has ever reaped such honour as you have done; for with great intrepidity have you and your army crossed a dangerous river to combat your enemies; and have been so very successful that you have put them to flight and gained the field, together with their warlike engines, with which they had wonderfully annoyed you, and concluded the affair by taking possession this day of their camp and quarters.” The good king replied that God should be adored for all the good he had granted him; and then heavy tears began to fall down his cheeks, which many great persons noticing, were oppressed with anguish and compassion on seeing him thus weep, praising the name of God who had enabled him to win the victory.f

RESULTS OF MANSURA

The count of Artois had rallied his forces in the town. The Egyptian chief invested Mansura; and, with ability equal to his spirit, placed a body of troops in such a station as to intercept the communication between the[442] count and the king. The soldiers in Mansura engaged the French. The inhabitants partook of the perils of the day, and poured upon their enemy, with deadly effect, burning coals, boiling water, and stones. The count did not survive to witness all the dreadful issues of his rashness. William Longespee and a numerous band of gallant men also perished. The grand master of St. John fell into the enemy’s hands; and the master of the Templars was happy in escaping with the loss of an eye. On the side of the enemy Fakhr ad-Din was slain; but his station was quickly filled by a chief of equal bravery and conduct. The king and his army had crossed the ford, and prevented the total rout of the Christians. The valiant master of the Templars was slain in this renewed engagement. Egyptian and Christian annalists have claimed the honour and rewards of victory for their respective sides; but in truth the result of the battle appears to have been indecisive.

The Saracens, however, cut off all communications between St. Louis and Damietta. Famine and disease appeared in the Christian camp, and the French described the latter of those evils as having sprung from a pestilential air emitted from the dead bodies of their friends and foes, and from eating eel pouts which had fed on corpses in the river.b “From this poisonous diet,” says De Joinville, “and from the bad air of a country where it scarcely ever rains, the whole army was infected by a shocking disorder, which dried up the flesh on one’s legs to the bone, and our skins became tanned as black as the ground, or like an old boot that has long lain behind a coffer. In addition to this miserable disorder, those afflicted by it had another sore complaint in the mouth, from eating eel pouts that rotted the gums. Very few escaped death that were attacked, and the surest symptoms of its being fatal was a bleeding at the nose. The barbers were obliged to cut away large pieces of flesh from the gums to enable the patient to eat. It was pitiful to hear the cries and groans of those on whom the operation was performed; they seemed like to the cries of women in labour, and I cannot express the great concern all felt who heard them.”f

ST. LOUIS A PRISONER

Negotiations for peace were opened between the contending powers, and the exchange of the lordship of Jerusalem for that of Damietta formed the basis of the treaty. The king offered either of his brothers as a hostage for the delivery of Damietta to the Egyptians; but the sultan objected, and all hopes of peace were abandoned, because the Christians would not consent to the delivery of their king as the hostage. The miserable condition of the French army forbade all thoughts of victory, and called for a retreat to Damietta.

The retreat was ordered; but those who attempted it by the river were taken by the enemy, and the fate of such as proceeded by land was equally disastrous. While they were occupied in constructing a bridge over the canal, the Mussulmans entered the camp, and murdered the sick. The valiant Louis, though oppressed with the general calamity of disease, sustained boldly, with Sir Godfrey de Sergines, the shock of the enemy, and threw himself into the midst of them, resolved to perish in defending his troops. The brave Sergines, who never left him, succeeded at last in drawing him from the foe, and conducted him to a village, where he sank into insensibility and helplessness.[75]

[443]

In that state the Mussulmans made him prisoner. Charles count of Anjou, Alphonsus of Poitiers, and indeed all the nobility fell into the enemy’s hands. The sultan clothed the king and the nobles with robes of honour, and treated them with kindness and generosity. But many of the unfortunate men who were ill, and therefore useless, were killed by their new masters in defiance of the command of Saladin, and the general usage of oriental nations not to put to death anyone to whom they had given bread and salt. Other prisoners saved their lives by renouncing their religion; the Saracenic commander indulged the fanaticism of his people by allowing the converts to be received, though he well remembered the sage remark of Saladin, that a Christian was never known to make a good Moslem, nor a good Saracen a Christian.[76] So great were the calamities of the French in this attempted retreat, that twenty thousand were made captives, and seven thousand were slain or drowned.b The last battles and disasters of St. Louis made, it may well be believed, a vivid impression on the Saracens. We may quote the account of Makrisi, a Moslem historian.a

MOSLEM ACCOUNT OF ST. LOUIS’ CAPTURE

The day of Bairam (January 6th, 1250) a great lord and relative to the king of France was made prisoner. Not a day passed without skirmishes on both sides, and with alternate success. The Mussulmans were particularly anxious to make prisoners, to gain information as to the state of the enemy’s army, and used all sorts of stratagems for this purpose. A soldier from Cairo bethought himself of putting his head withinside of a watermelon, the interior of which he had scooped out, and of thus swimming towards the French camp; a Christian soldier, not suspecting the trick, leaped into the Nile to seize the melon; but the Egyptian was a stout swimmer, and catching hold of him, dragged him to his general. On Wednesday, the 7th day of the moon Shawwal (January 13th, 1250), the Mussulmans captured a large boat, in which were a hundred soldiers, commanded by an officer of distinction. On Thursday, the 15th of the same moon, the French marched out of their camp, and their cavalry began to move. The troops were ordered to file off, when a slight skirmish took place, and the French left on the field forty cavaliers with their horses.

Some traitors having shown the ford over the canal of Ashmun to the French, fourteen hundred cavaliers crossed it and fell unexpectedly on the camp of the Mussulmans, on a Tuesday, the 15th day of the moon Dhul-Kadeh (February 15th), having at their head the brother of the king of France. The emir Fakhr ad-Din was at the time in the bath; he instantly quitted it with precipitation and mounted a horse without a saddle or bridle, followed only by some slaves. The enemy attacked him on all sides, and his slaves like cowards, abandoned him when in the midst of the French; it was in vain he attempted to defend himself; he fell pierced with wounds. The French, after the death of Fakhr ad-Din, retreated to Jédilé; but their whole cavalry advanced to Mansura, and, having forced one of the gates, entered the town; the Mussulmans fled to the right and left. The king of France had already penetrated as far as the sultan’s palace, and victory seemed ready to declare for him, when the Baharite slaves, led by Bibars, advanced and[444] snatched it from his hands; their charge was so furious that the French were obliged to retreat. The French infantry, during this time, had advanced to cross the bridge; had they been able to join their cavalry, the defeat of the Egyptian army, and the loss of the town of Mansura, would have been inevitable.

Night separated the combatants, when the French retreated in disorder to Jédilé, after leaving fifteen hundred of their men on the field. They surrounded their camp with a ditch and wall, but their army was divided into two corps; the least considerable body was encamped on the branch of the Ashmun, and the larger on the great branch of the Nile that runs to Damietta. A pigeon had been let loose to fly to Cairo the instant the French had surprised the camp of Fakhr ad-Din, having a note under its wing, to inform the inhabitants of this misfortune. The melancholy event had created a general consternation in the town, which the runaways had augmented, and the gates of Cairo were kept open all the night to receive them. A second pigeon bearing the news of the victory over the French, had restored tranquillity to the capital. Joy succeeded sorrow; and each congratulated the other on this happy turn of affairs, and public rejoicings were made.

Boats sent from Damietta brought all sorts of provisions to the French camp, and kept it abundantly supplied. Turan Shah caused many boats to be built which, when taken to pieces, he placed on the backs of camels, and had them thus carried to the canal of Méhalé, when they were put together again, launched on the canal, and filled with troops for an ambuscade. As soon as the French fleet of boats appeared at the mouth of the canal of Méhalé, the Mussulmans quitted their hiding-place and attacked them. While the two fleets were engaged, other boats left Mansura filled with soldiers, and fell on the rear of the French. It was in vain they sought to escape by flight; a thousand Christians were killed or made prisoners. In this defeat fifty-two of their boats laden with provisions were taken, and their communication with Damietta by the navigation of the Nile was cut off, so that within a short time the whole army suffered the most terrible famine. The Mussulmans surrounded them on all sides, and they could neither advance nor retreat.

On the first of the moon Dhul-hija (March 7th), the French surprised seven boats; but the troops on board had the good fortune to escape. In spite of the superiority of the Egyptians on the Nile, they attempted to bring up another convoy from Damietta, but they lost it; thirty-two of their boats were taken and carried to Mansura, on the ninth of the same moon. This new loss filled the measure of their woes, and caused them to propose a truce and send ambassadors to treat of it with the sultan. The emir Zain ad-Din[445] and the kadi Bedr ad-Din were ordered to meet and confer with them, when the French offered to surrender Damietta, on condition that Jerusalem, and some other places in Syria, should be given in exchange for it. This proposal was rejected, and the conference broken up.

On Friday, the 27th of the moon Dhul-hija (April 2nd), the French set fire to all their machines of war and timber for building, and rendered almost all their boats unfit for use. During the night of Tuesday, the third day of the moon Muharrem (April 7th), in the year of the Hegira 648, the whole of the French army decamped, and took the road to Damietta. Some boats which they had reserved fell down the Nile at the same time. The Mussulmans having, at break of day of the Wednesday, perceived the retreat of the French, pursued and attacked them.

The heat of the combat was at Fariskur. The French were defeated and put to flight; ten thousand of their men fell on the field of battle, some say thirty thousand. Upwards of one hundred thousand horsemen, infantry, tradespeople, and others were made slaves. The booty was immense in horses, mules, tents, and other riches. There were but one hundred slain on the side of the Mussulmans. The Baharite slaves, under the command of Bibars al-Bundukdari, performed in this battle signal acts of valour. The king of France had retired, with a few of his lords, to a small hillock, and surrendered himself, under promise of his life being spared, to the eunuch Jemal ad-Din Mahsun as-Salih; he was bound with a chain, and in this state conducted to Mansura, where he was confined in the house of Ibrahim ben Lokman, secretary to the sultan, and under the guard of the eunuch Salih. The king’s brother was made prisoner at the same time, and carried to the same house. The sultan provided for their subsistence.

The number of slaves was so great, it was embarrassing, and the sultan gave orders to Saif ad-Din Jusuf ben Tardi to put them to death. Every night this cruel minister of the vengeance of his master had from three to four hundred of the prisoners brought from their places of confinement, and after he had caused them to be beheaded, their bodies were thrown into the Nile; in this manner perished one hundred thousand of the French.

The sultan departed from Mansura, and went to Fariskur, where he had pitched a most magnificent tent. He had also built a tower of wood over the Nile; and, being freed from a disagreeable war, he there gave himself up to all sorts of debauchery. The victory he had just gained was so brilliant that he was eager to make all who were subjected to him acquainted with it. He wrote with his own hand a letter, in the following terms, to the emir Jemal ad-Din ben Jagmur, governor of Damascus: “Thanks be given to the All-powerful, who has changed our grief to joy; it is to Him alone we owe the victory. The favours He has condescended to shower upon us are innumerable, but this last is most precious. You will announce to the people of Damascus, or, rather, to all Mussulmans, that God has enabled us to gain a complete victory over the Christians at the moment they had conspired our ruin. On Monday, the first day of this year, we opened our treasury and distributed riches and arms to our faithful soldiers. We had called to our succour the Arabian tribes, and a numberless multitude of soldiers ranged themselves under our standards. On the night between Tuesday and Wednesday our enemies abandoned their camp, with all their baggage, and marched towards Damietta; in spite of the obscurity of the night, we pursued them, and thirty thousand of them were left dead on the field, not including those who precipitated themselves into the Nile. We have, besides, slain our very numerous prisoners, and thrown their bodies into the same[446] river. Their king had retreated to Minieh; he has implored our clemency, and we have granted him his life, and paid him all the honours due to his rank. We have regained Damietta.”

The sultan, with this letter, sent the king’s cap, which had fallen in the combat; it was of scarlet, lined with a fine fur. The governor of Damascus put the king’s cap on his own head when he read to the public the sultan’s letter. A poet made these verses on the occasion: “The cap of the French was whiter than paper; our sabres have dyed it with the blood of the enemy, and have changed its colour.”g

As ransom for the noble prisoners the sultan offered to accept some of the baronial castles in Palestine, or those which belonged to the Templars and Hospitallers. But the king and his peers replied that the liege lord, the emperor of Germany, would never consent that a pagan or Tatar should hold any fief of him; and that no cession of the property of the knights could be made, for the governors of their castles swore on their investiture that they would never surrender their charge for the deliverance of any man. The king was even threatened with torture, but as the Mussulmans saw in him no symptoms of fear on which they could work, they proposed to make a pecuniary ransom. Louis offered to pay ten thousand golden besants, which were equal to five hundred thousand livres, for the deliverance of his army, and that as the royal dignity could not be estimated by a vulgar scale, he would for his own freedom surrender the city of Damietta. The sultan was liberal in the fulness of his joy at such a completion of his victories, and remitted a fifth part of the pecuniary ransom.[77] Peace was to continue for ten years between the Mussulmans and the Christians, and the Franks were to be restored to those privileges in the kingdom of Jerusalem which they enjoyed before the landing of Louis at Damietta. The repose which succeeded the treaty was interrupted by the murder of the sultan; but after a few acts of hostility the successful emirs, and their mamelukes, renewed with a few changes the condition of amity. One moiety of the ransom was to be discharged before the king left the river, and the other on his arrival at Acre. The sick at Damietta, with the stores and baggage, were to be retained by the sultan till the last portion of the ransom should be paid.

Damietta was accordingly surrendered. But the mamelukes were more savage and unprincipled than any preceding enemies of the Latin name. They burned all the military engines, murdered the sick, and some of the most ferocious thirsted for the blood of the Christian potentates. The counsels of justice prevailed, and the Christians were relieved from their fears that the treaty would not be acted upon. The counts of Flanders and Brittany, the count of Soissons, and others embarked for France. The royal treasure at Damietta could not furnish the stipulated portion of the ransom. The new grand master of the Templars opposed the institutes of his order to the king’s request for a loan of the funds of the society, and contended that he could not divert them from their regular and appointed purposes. But state necessity trampled over mere statutable forms, and the chest of the Templars was seized by the royal officers. The king’s person was redeemed, and the French went to Acre.

The expedition of St. Louis into Egypt resembles in many respects the war in Egypt thirty years before. In both cases the Christian armies were encamped near the entrance of the Ashmun canal; they could not advance, and the surrender of Damietta was the price of safety.

[447]

Many of Louis’ council were astonished at his resolution to remain in Palestine while political affairs were calling him to his duty to France. They were divided in their patriotism and their allegiance. The sultan of Damascus, a relative of the murdered Egyptian lord, solicited the aid of Louis to revenge the murder, and stimulated his virtue by the promise that in the event of victory he would deliver to the Christians the city of Jerusalem. The king replied that he would send to the mamelukes at Damietta, to know whether they would repair their violations of the treaty, and that, in case of their refusal, he would assist the sultan of Damascus. On intelligence of this negotiation, the people of Damietta restored to the king all the knights and common soldiers whom they had detained in prison. Louis wisely profited by circumstances, and declared that he would not enter upon a truce with the Egyptians, until they had absolved him from the payment of the remaining moiety of the ransom, and restored to him the heads of those Christians on the walls of Cairo, who had fallen in the battle near Mansura, and such Christian children as they had forced to become Mussulmans. The emirs and mamelukes complied with these terms, and, on condition of the alliance of the French king, they engaged to deliver up to him Jerusalem itself. The military force of Louis did not much exceed four thousand men. The king’s two brothers returned to Europe; and, in order to retain a respectable army, Louis was obliged to be liberal of his treasure. Louis remained a year at Cæsarea, and rebuilt its houses and repaired its fortifications. Joppa was the next object of his care. The war between the Egyptians and Syrians raged with dreadful violence. By the mediation of the caliph, the Mussulmans made peace; Egypt and Jerusalem were to belong to the mamelukes; and the countries beyond the Jordan to the sultan of Syria. But the united infidels did not pursue their schemes of destruction with that vigour and ability which had distinguished the fierce and dreadful movements of Nur ad-Din and Saladin. They might have swept the feeble and exhausted Christians from the shores of Palestine; but they merely ravaged the country round Acre, and then proceeded to Sajecte, in whose strong castle were Louis and most of the army. The blood and property of the citizens satisfied the Moslems, who departed without trying the valour of the French in garrison.

Perpetual disappointment gradually desiccated the spring of hope, and the king turned his mind to France. His friends marked his change of purpose, and news from Europe of the death of his royal mother, the regent of his kingdom, made him openly proclaim his resolution to return. The patriarch and barons of Palestine offered him their humble thanks and praise for the great good and honour he had conferred on the Holy Land; and, shortly after Easter, he embarked for the West. Louis IX gathered no new laurels in his transmarine expedition. All that was great and chivalric in France had been spread out in martial array, and had met with little else than discomfiture and defeat. In the course of Louis’ stay at Joppa, the sultan of Damascus sent him permission to visit Jerusalem. The king ardently desired to behold the sacred places, and was slow in allowing considerations of policy to conquer selfish feelings. The reason which dissuaded him from the journey, was, that if he should perform a pilgrimage to Jerusalem without delivering it from the enemies of God, every subsequent crusading monarch would think a similar proceeding sufficient, and would not consider himself obliged to perform more than what the king of France had done. St. Louis was also reminded that Richard Cœur de Lion refused to behold Jerusalem as a pilgrim.

[448]

THE CHRISTIANS QUARREL AMONG THEMSELVES

All the blood which had been shed, and all the treasure which France had lavished for the crusade of St. Louis, did not long preserve the Christians in Palestine from the hostilities of the Mussulmans, and, as no new succours arrived from Europe, the barons and knights were compelled, in some cases, to keep within the shelter of their fortresses, and at other times to make disadvantageous treaties with their foe. Although it was evident that nothing but unanimity in the holy warriors could preserve the remnants of the kingdom of Godfrey de Bouillon from annihilation, yet the Christians wasted their strength in party collisions, instead of watching the politics of the Saracenian courts, and gathering those branches of power which their enemies, in their ambitious feuds, continually broke from the tree of Islamism. The haughty republicans of Italy would never enter into any common bond of union, and the Venetians, the Pisans, and the Genoese had frequent hostile encounters, respecting the possession of churches to which each nation asserted her claims. The two great military orders only forgot their mutual jealousies when in the field they were opposed to the Moslems, but in every interval of peace, the knights, incapable of any exertions or thoughts but those which war inspired, gratified their arrogance and restlessness in disputes touching military prowess and precedency. As reason did not give birth to these altercations, she did not control the decision.

The jealousy and rancour of the Hospitallers and Red Cross knights were frequently aggravated by irregular skirmishes, and at length the kindred squadrons met in a general engagement. Victory sat on the helms of the cavaliers of St. John; few prisoners were taken, and scarcely a Templar escaped alive. But new companions from Europe gradually filled the places of the deceased brethren. New occasions demanded all their valour and skill, and civil discord was lost amidst the more honourable war with the real enemies of the state.

A blood-stained revolution in Egypt had placed the mameluke chief Bibars, or Bundukdari, on the throne of that country; he was well disposed to lead his savage mamelukes against the Christians, and his ferocity did not want the excitement which the military orders gave it, of refusing, contrary to treaty, to deliver to him some Mohammedan prisoners. His soldiers, as savage as the Khwarizmians, demolished the churches of Nazareth, and the[449] fortress and church on Mount Tabor. They made their way to the gates of Acre with fire and sword, and such of the Christians as were immediately slain were not so much objects of compassion as the prisoners on whom the Turks inflicted every description of torture, in order to force a change of religion. Though Acre itself was saved for a few years, yet Cæsarea did not escape the wide-spreading calamities. Through these dreadful scenes the military orders fought with their usual heroism, and in the sieges of the strong fortresses of Azotus and Saffuria, the spirit of devotion which they manifested to their cause had never been equalled. The small force of ninety Hospitallers held possession of the former of these places. The number gradually diminished on each renewed assault, and when the Turks mounted the breach, they trampled on the bodies of the last of the knights.

After ravaging the neighbourhood of Acre, Tyre, and Tripolis, the Egyptians laid siege to the fortress of Saffuria. The fall of that place was inevitable, and the prior of the Templars therefore agreed to capitulate, and, on the surrender being made, the knights and garrison, altogether amounting to six hundred men, were to be conducted to the next Christian town. The sultan was invested with lordship over the fortress, but he violated the conditions of the surrender, and left the knights only a few hours to determine on the alternative of death or conversion to Islam. The prior and two Franciscan monks were earnest in fixing the faith of the religious cavaliers, and, at the appointed time for the declaration of their choice, they unanimously avowed their determination to die rather than incur the dishonour of apostacy. The decree for the slaughter of the Templars was pronounced and executed; and the three preachers of martyrdom were flayed alive.

HISTORY OF ANTIOCH (1206-1268 A.D.)

Before we continue our review of the calamities of Palestine, a retrospect must be taken of a principality whose fate was closely connected with that of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem. Bohemond IV continued to be the reputed lord of Antioch, from the year 1206 till the time of his death in 1233. But for many years during this interval he did not exercise any royal authority, for he was a tyrant, and was both hated by the people and excommunicated by the clergy. His nephew Rupin, the right heir, was aided by the papal legate, who was present at the great siege of Damietta, in the year 1218, and made several attempts to recover his thrones of Antioch and Tripolis; but he died some years before Bohemond, in a prison at Tarsus, into which he had been cast by Constantius, nominal regent of Antioch, and guardian of Isabella, daughter and successor of Livon, king of Armenia. From Bohemond IV and his first wife Plaisance, daughter of the lord of Gabala, Bohemond V descended. To him succeeded Bohemond VI. It does not appear that the family of the Bohemonds were entire masters of the principality and county from the year 1233 till their absorption in the Egyptian power. It is certain that Bohemond V was reigning over Antioch and Tripolis in 1244, when he became tributary to the Khwarizmians; and that in 1253 Bohemond VI was made a knight by St. Louis, and was considered lawful prince of Antioch, though he was a minor, and under his mother’s tutelage. But it is equally certain that at times, from 1233 to 1288, Frederick and Conrad, a son and grandson of the emperor Frederick II, had possession of all or part of the states of Antioch and Tripolis.

[450]

RAVAGES OF BIBARS

We may now resume the thread of the general history. Joppa and the castle of Beaufort were the mameluke conquests which succeeded in point of time to those of Azotus and Saffuria.

The tempest at length burst upon the state of Antioch; and the city of that principality yielded without even the formality of a siege (1268). The reproach of treachery is alternately cast upon the patriarch and the inhabitants; and heavy is the disgrace of causing an event which occasioned the destruction of forty thousand, and the captivity of one hundred thousand Christians. Bibars ravaged the country round Tyre; but being equally religious and cruel, he gave the Franks a respite by pilgrimising to the holy places in Arabia. He soon, however, resumed his fell purpose of exterminating the Christians; Laodicea and many other places submitted to him; and the knights of St. John gained immortal honour by their brave, though fruitless, defence of the fortress of Karak, between Arca and Tortosa. The prince of Tripolis preserved his title by the sacrifice of half of his territory. Acre was saved in consequence of the reported succour of the king of Cyprus. Bibars returned to Cairo, hastily fitted out a fleet for the conquest of the island, which was without the presence of its monarch. But his ships were lost in a tempest; Cairo was overwhelmed with sorrow, and none of his efforts could re-establish affairs.

SECOND CRUSADE AND DEATH OF LOUIS IX

Before the news of the capture of Antioch reached Europe, the people of the West had contemplated a new crusade. St. Louis thought that his first expedition to the Holy Land brought more shame on France than good on the Christian cause; and he feared that his own personal fame had withered. The pope encouraged his inclinations for a new attempt. England was at that time in a state of repose, and her martial youth were impatient of indolence. Prince Edward, with the earls of Warwick and Pembroke, received the holy ensign. The assumption of the cross by the heir of the English throne spread great joy throughout France. He was invited to Paris; the co-operation of the English and French was determined upon; and Louis lent his youthful ally thirty thousand marks on the security of the customs of Bordeaux. The prelates and clergy of England agreed to contribute a tenth of their revenue for three years; and by a parliamentary ordinance, a twentieth part was taken from the corn and movables which the laity possessed at Michaelmas. A crusade had for many years been popular in England. During the first expedition of St. Louis, and soon after the departure of William Longsword, Henry III engaged to fight under the sacred banners. But he was slow in preparing to go to the Holy Land; and the public murmured the suspicion that he had only assumed the cross as a pretence for collecting money. It was found that five hundred knights had been crossed; and the number of inferior people could not be counted. The holy warriors resolved to commence their voyage at midsummer; but the king had anticipated all their proceedings; and he declared that if they dared to march without him the thunders of the Vatican should be hurled against them. Some people submitted to, and others clamoured at this menace of papal interference; and the religious ardour of the most enthusiastic was cooled by the king’s delays, and the news of the disastrous events in Egypt. The pope and[451] king were deaf to the reproaches of the French nation that indifference to Christianity could be the only motive for obstructing the pious wishes of the English people.[78] The king’s poverty was ever the alleged cause of his remissness; and two years after his dissolution of the association of English knights, he endeavoured to extort money from the clergy on the pretence of a journey to Syria. But they resisted his demands; and reproached him with his avarice and violation of oaths.

Anticipating the laurel of victory, or the crown of martyrdom, St. Louis spread his sails for the Holy Land in 1270. Sixty thousand soldiers were animated by their monarch’s feelings of religious and military ardour; and we may remark among the leaders the lords of Flanders, Champagne, and Brittany. The fleet was driven into Sardinia; and at that place a great change was made in the plan of operations. The king of Tunis had formerly sent ambassadors to Louis, and expressed a wish to embrace the only true religion. Northern Africa had formerly paid a pecuniary tribute to the sovereign of the Two Sicilies; and Charles of Anjou, the reigning monarch, concealing his selfishness under the garb of piety and justice, strongly urged his brother to restore the rights of Christendom. The soldiers too, now more greedy of plunder and revenge than zealous in bigotry, entreated to be led to Tunis. The subjugation of the Mussulmans in Africa was declared to be a necessary preliminary to successes in Palestine; the French soon reached the first object of their hopes; and the camp and town of Carthage were the earliest rewards of victory. But every sanguine expectation was damped when a pestilential disease spread its ravages through the Christian ranks.

The great stay of the Crusades fell August, 1270. During his illness Louis ceased not to praise God, and supplicate for the people whom he had brought with him. He became speechless; he then gesticulated what he could not utter; he perpetually made signs of the cross, stretched himself on the floor, which was covered with ashes; and in the final struggle of nature he turned his eyes to heaven, and exclaimed, “I will enter thy house, I will worship in thy sanctuary.”

PRINCE EDWARD LEAVES ENGLAND

Before this calamitous event Prince Edward, Edmund Crouchback, earl of Lancaster, four earls, four barons, and the English division, had not only arrived in Africa, but had left it for Sicily, in despair that their French compeers would ever march to Palestine. The winter season was passed by Prince Edward in military exercises, and in the various occupations of chivalry, and in the following spring he turned his prow up the Mediterranean and arrived at Acre.

The whole of the forces of Edward did not exceed one thousand men. But the prowess of the Plantagenets was dreaded by the Mussulmans; and[452] they feared that another Cœur de Lion was come to scourge them. The sultan of Egypt departed from the vicinity of Acre, which he had devastated with fire and sword. All the Latins in Palestine crowded round the banner of the English prince; and he took the field at the head of seven thousand men. The city of Nazareth was redeemed; and he surprised and defeated a large Turkish force. Edward was brave and provident, and owed his success as much to his skill as to his courage. But he was not less cruel than any preceding hero of the holy wars; and he gave a dreadful earnest of that savage implacability which Scotland afterwards so often rued. The barbarities which stained the entry of the Christians into Jerusalem, two centuries before, were repeated in a smaller theatre of cruelty in Nazareth.

But the march of victory was closed, for the English soldiers were parched by the rays of a Syrian sun, and their leader was extended on the bed of sickness. The governor of Joppa was the apparent friend of Edward, but the sultan’s threat of degradation, if further commerce were held with an infidel, changed courtesy into malignity. He hired an assassin who, as the bearer of letters, was admitted into the chamber of his intended victim. After receiving two or three wounds, the vigorous prince threw the villain on the floor and stabbed him to the heart. The dagger had been steeped in poison, and for some hours Edward’s fate was involved in danger. The fairy hand of fiction has ascribed his convalescence to his queen.[79]

After the English prince had been fourteen months in Acre, the sultan of Egypt offered peace, for wars with the Moslem powers engrossed his military strength. Edward gladly seized this occasion of leaving the Holy Land, for his force was too small for the achievement of great actions, and his father had implored his return to England. The hostile commanders signed accordingly a treaty for a ten years’ suspension of arms; the lords of Syria disarrayed their warlike front, and the English soldiers quitted Palestine for their native country (July, 1272).

VAIN EFFORTS OF GREGORY X

At the time when Palestine began to breathe from the horrors of war, hope once more raised her head in consequence of the election to the chair of St. Peter falling upon Theobald, archdeacon of Liège. The choice of the cardinals was made known to him while he was in Palestine. He impatiently transported himself to Italy, and so ardent was his zeal that his endeavours for a crusade even preceded his introduction to the pontificate. The trumpet of war again was heard among the nations. The blast was however only faintly echoed. The republics of Pisa, Genoa, and Venice, and the city of Marseilles, agreed to furnish a few galleys and twenty-five thousand marks of silver were obtained from Philip the Hardy on mortgage of the Templars’ estates in France. The masters of the military friars and Red Cross knights went to Rome, and convinced their papal friend that these succours would be too inconsiderable to enable the Christians to drive infidels out of Palestine.

[453]

Again was the Christian world assembled, and the council of Lyons (May 1274) decreed the obligation of a new crusade. But Pope Gregory died within two years after the sitting of the Lyonese council, and all thoughts of a crusade were dropped when the life of its great promoter closed.

Palestine however was at peace. Hugh III, king of Cyprus, a lineal descendant of the princess Alice, had been crowned king of Jerusalem at Tyre, a short time before the death of Conradin, the last unhappy descendant of that house of Germany, of which three emperors had supported and adorned holy wars. The Templars befriended Charles of Anjou, but the Hospitallers, with more virtue than was generally shown, declared that they could not fight against any Christian prince, and contended that the claims for succession to the kingdom ought to be deferred till the kingdom itself should be recovered. In the fourth year of the peace which the valiant prince Edward had gained for Palestine, the mameluke chief and king Bundukdari, died.

In the reign of Kalaun, the third sultan in succession to him who had torn so many cities from the Christians, the war was renewed (1280), and after a few years of dreadful preparation the living cloud of war burst upon the Christians. Margat was captured; but so brave had been the resistance of the knights that it procured them a safe and honourable retreat to the neighbouring town of Tortosa (1287), and the sultan, dreading even the possibility of future opposition, razed the fortress.

PROGRESS OF THE MAMELUKES

With rapid and certain steps the power of the Latins approached its fatal termination. The city of Tripolis, that last remaining satellite of the kingdom of Jerusalem, was taken in 1289; its houses were burned, its works dismantled, and its people murdered or retained in slavery. Acre once more became the principal possession of the Christians. The sultan concluded a treaty of peace with Henry II of Cyprus, who had driven away the lieutenants and soldiers of Charles, and had been acknowledged king of Jerusalem.

The grand-master crossed the Mediterranean in order to infuse his martial spirit into the people of the West. Pope Nicholas IV heard with coldness the dismal tale. He declined to open the treasury of St. Peter for the advancement of the Christian cause, and he gave his noble friend only fifteen hundred men—the offscourings of Italy. Circular letters were sent to the different European potentates, but the light which once shone upon the holy cause had waned; cavaliers no longer thronged round the cross, and the grand-master was compelled to return to Palestine, accompanied only by his Italian banditti. When they arrived at Acre, the city was in the greatest state of turbulence. Within its walls were crowded the wretched remains of those kingdoms and principalities which had been won by the blood of the West. Every distinct people occupied a particular division, and, in the assertion of individual privileges, general interests were forgotten.

The sultan died before his preparations of vengeance were completed; but his son Khalil was not less anxious than his father to exterminate the infidel miscreants. In April, 1291, nearly two hundred thousand mameluke Tatars of Egypt marched into Palestine, and encamped before Acre, exactly on the same ground upon which a century before assembled Europe had stood. To avoid the dreadful consequences of war, a large part of the population[454] embarked in the numerous vessels which at that time rode at anchor in the harbour, and the defence of the place was left to the care of about twelve thousand soldiers. The garrison was speedily reinforced by a few hundred men, headed by Henry II of Cyprus, who boasted the ideal title of king of Jerusalem. But the Christians beheld their towers yielding to the mines and battering-rams. The pusillanimous monarch, seizing a few ships, sailed to Cyprus. With the morn, the mamelukes renewed the attack. Most of the German cavaliers died upon the breach; the others slowly left the walls, and the firmness of their little phalanx checked the foe. The Hospitallers chased back the mamelukes, and even forced them headlong into the ditch. But the sultan was prodigal of blood. His battalions marched to the breach, and in a few hours the entry into the city was repeatedly lost and won by the Christians and infidels.

Under the cover of a few cross-bowmen, the knights of St. John, seven only were the remnant, embarked, and left forever the scene of their virtue and their valour. Their brethren in arms, the Templars, were equally brave, and their fate was equally disastrous. Their resistance was so firm, that the sultan was compelled to promise them a free and honourable departure. But the insults of some low Saracenian people irritated the cavaliers; the sword again was drawn, and such of the Templars as survived the conflict, fled into the interior country. The unarmed population of Acre hurried to the coast; but the elements co-operated with the devastating spirit of the Turks, and the tempestuous waves refused shelter to the fugitives. While gnashing with despair, the people beheld their town in flames. The ruthless hand of death fell upon them, and the sea shore of Palestine again drank torrents of Christian blood.

TOTAL LOSS OF THE HOLY LAND

Tyre, Berytus, and other towns, were awed into submission. The Turks swept all Palestine, and murdered or imprisoned all the Christians who could not fly to Cyprus. The memory of the Templars is embalmed, for the last struggle for the Holy Land was made by the Red Cross knights. Such as escaped from Acre went to Sis, in Armenia. A Mussulman general drove them to the island of Tortosa, whence they escaped to Cyprus, and the cry of religious war no longer rung through Palestine.

The loss of the Holy Land did not fill Europe with those feelings of grief and indignation which the fall of Jerusalem, an hundred years before, had occasioned. The flame of fanaticism had slowly burned out. During the thirteenth century, the territorial possessions of the Christians in Palestine gradually diminished; the expeditions and reinforcements were in consequence less vigorous, for, both politically and personally, the people of the West declined in their interest in respect of the affairs of the East. Pope Nicholas IV endeavoured to revive holy undertakings; but the kings of Europe were deaf or disobedient. As Genoa was allied to the Grecian emperor, Venice sought the friendship of the Mussulmans. The mamelukes gave their Christian brothers a church, an exchange, and a magazine in Alexandria; and the Venetians carried on the lucrative but disgraceful trade of furnishing the Egyptian market with male and female slaves from Georgia and Circassia.

There was some pretence for the preaching of a crusade by Pope Boniface VIII in the year 1300. Kazan, the Mongol sultan of Persia, resolved to exterminate the mamelukes of Egypt. He allied himself with the kings of[455] Georgia, Armenia, and Cyprus. In 1299 the fortunes of war smiled on the allies; but still the success not being so great as what he had expected, Kazan sent to the pope, soliciting the more powerful alliance of the princes of the West, and agreeing that when Palestine was recovered, it should be retained by the Christians. The project, though warmly patronised by the pope, proved abortive. In the interim, the tide of victory flowed in favour of the Egyptians. Kazan died about the year 1303.

From the commencement, till past the middle of the fourteenth century, the popes repeatedly sounded the charge; but the West in most cases disregarded the summons of its ghostly instructor; and it was evident that, although the papal rulers could fan, they could not create the sacred flame. At the time when the loss of the Holy Land became known in Europe, the people had not recovered from the astonishment and terror with which the victories of Jenghiz Khan and his successors had filled the West. Part of Russia, the whole of Poland, Silesia, Moravia, Hungary and all the countries to the eastward of the Adriatic Sea, fell a prey to barbaric desolation. Several of the popes attempted in vain to soften the ferocity of these new foes; but the papal legates were dismissed with the tremendous command, for Rome herself to submit her neck to the Mongol yoke.

Though Europe in general felt that in the fall of Acre all was lost, yet despair did not immediately complete his triumph, for chivalry and policy sometimes endeavoured to revive the religious spark. If Pope John XXII had not been too open in the display of his avarice, and too prodigal in the commutation of vows for money, the knights of Germany would once more have fought under the glorious ensign of the cross. A threatened invasion from England (1328 A.D.) deterred Philip de Valois from leaving his country for Palestine, and a large body of crusaders was dispersed when (1364 A.D.) John Le Bon of France died, on whom the pope intended to have conferred the title of commander of the new crusaders. The politic Henry IV[80] of England wished to “busy giddy minds with foreign quarrels,” in order to divert his people from looking too nearly into his state, and to retain their newly sworn allegiance. Both his maritime and military preparations were considerable; but the hand of nature stopped him and it was his fate to succumb to death, before he could attempt to commence his new religious career.

[456]

FATE OF THE MILITARY ORDERS

Such were the last appearances of that martial frenzy which so long agitated Europe; and here the history of the holy wars would naturally close, if curiosity did not suggest an inquiry into some of those military and religious orders which arose from the spirit of pilgrimages and crusades, and whose existence forms one of the most prominent characteristics of the Middle Ages. The knights of the Teutonic order were fixed in their conquest of Prussia, some years before the loss of the Holy Land. Their love of war was not extinguished; they carried both the sword and the Gospel into Pomerania; and the eastern part of that country was definitively ceded to the order by a treaty of peace in the year 1343. The town of Dantzic, the capital of the new conquest, was considerably aggrandised under the dominion of the knights, and became one of the principal places of commerce on the Baltic. Pressed forward again by religion and ambition, they made war on the infidel Lithuanians, but it was not till the beginning of the fifteenth century, and after rivers of blood had flowed, that the pagans lost their independence, and relinquished their national superstition. But the oppressive government of the knights; their intestine divisions; their heavy imposts, the unhappy result of wars continually reviving, encouraged the nobility of Prussia and Pomerania to confederate, and to seek the protection of the kings of Poland. The torch of war was rekindled, the knights were defeated, and by the peace of Thorn in 1466 all Pomerania, and indeed all the country which is generally called Polish Prussia, was ceded to Poland. The order was allowed to preserve the west of Prussia by the tenure of feudal service to the kings of Poland.

The Teutonic knights thus lost Prussia; their name appears on few occasions in the history of Europe, and the order became only a “cheap defence of nations.” Pope Innocent VIII in the year 1490 endeavoured to suppress the order of the Knights of St. Lazarus. In Italy, perhaps he succeeded, but not in any other country. The bull was resisted by the knights of France and till the reign of Henry IV they were independent and elected their own grand-masters.

KNIGHTS OF ST. JOHN

After the loss of Acre, the knights of St. John and the Temple, from every preceptory and commandery in Europe, flocked to Cyprus, impatient for glory and revenge. The military friars soon quitted their settlements in Cyprus. The grand-master of the Hospitallers gained the friendship and the purse of Pope Clement V, and drew a flattering picture of Christian prosperity, if the cavaliers of St. John could set up their banners in some island in the Mediterranean. Rhodes was fixed upon. Fifteen years subsequently to the loss of Acre, a new crusade was published, and the volunteers were invited to repair to Brundusium. The king of Sicily and the republic of Genoa furnished transports. The grand-master headed the army, but it was not until after they had sailed, that the crusaders knew the object of the armament. Rhodes was at that time in the power, partly of the Greeks and partly of the Saracens. The soldiers landed; many battles were fought, and the army of the invaders was at last reduced to the military friars. Their chief hired new soldiers, recommenced his attacks, and the whole island submitted to his authority (1310). The subsequent history of the knights of St. John is interwoven with the general history of Europe.

[457]

THE TEMPLARS IN FRANCE

While the military friars were planning the acquisition of an equivalent to their loss in Palestine, most of the Red Cross knights gradually left Cyprus, returned to their different commanderies, and lived in security and indolence. But circumstances soon made the Templars repent that they had not, like the Hospitallers, attempted a renewal of hostilities with the infidels. Philip the Fair, king of France, acquainted Pope Clement V, that the order of the knights Templar had been accused of heresy and various other crimes against religion and morals. Some members had charged their fraternity with the different abominations of treachery, murder, idolatry, and Islamism. Philip the Fair took the bold step of imprisoning all the knights Templar whom his officers could discover in France, and of sequestering their property. Clement then circulated a bull throughout Christendom, by which instrument of papal authority, nuncios and the resident clergy were commanded to inquire into the conduct of the knights. His holiness says that, pressed by public clamour and by the declarations of the king, the barons, the clergy, and laity of France, he had examined seventy-two members of the order, and had found them all guilty, though in various degrees, of irreligion and immorality. Such of the knights as yielded to blandishments and threats were pardoned, but the torture was applied to those who denied the charges, and thirty-six knights in Paris heroically braved the horrors of the rack, and maintained the innocence of the order, till death closed their sufferings and their virtue. Others confessed in the midst of corporeal agony, and afterwards recanted their confessions. The knights Templar were accused of renouncing, at the time of their matriculation, God, Jesus Christ, the Virgin, and all the saints. It was said that the brethren used often to spit and trample on the cross, in proof of their contempt of Christ, who was crucified for his own crimes and not for the sins of the world. Out of their disdain of God and his Son, they adored a cat, and certain wooden and golden idols. The master could absolve brethren from sins. On the assurance that the king would destroy the order, whether the result of the examinations were favourable or hostile to its continuance, many knights had yielded to pain and hopelessness, stayed the hand of the executioner, confessed every crime, upon their confessing of which, royal pardon and protection were proffered. The court condemned to perpetual imprisonment those from whom no confession of guilt had been extorted. But such as had retracted their forced avowals were declared to be relapsed heretics; they were delivered over to the secular power, and condemned to the fire (May 11th, 1310). The number in the last-mentioned class of the proscribed was fifty-four. All the historians who have spoken of the event, whatever opinion they might have entertained on the general question, friends or enemies, natives or strangers, have unanimously attested the virtuous courage, the noble intrepidity, and the religious resignation, which these martyrs of heroism displayed. Arrived at the place of punishment, they beheld with firmness and placidity the piles of wood, and the torches already lighted in the hands of the executioners. In vain a messenger of the king promised pardon and liberty to those who did not persist in their retractations; in vain their surrounding friends endeavoured to touch their hearts by prayers and tears. Invoking God, the Virgin, and all the saints, they sung the hymn of death; triumphing over the most cruel tortures, they believed themselves already in the heavens, and died in the midst of their songs.

[458]

IN OTHER COUNTRIES

By royal command, the sheriffs of the different counties of England and Wales seized the estates, and imprisoned the persons of the Templars. The cavaliers were more than a year and a half in prison. At the end of that time a papal bull was received in England; and the archbishop of Canterbury appointed courts at London, York, and Lincoln, for the trial of the Templars, July, 1311. The charges were the same in substance as those which had been preferred against the order in France. Forty-seven of the knights who had been incarcerated in the Tower were examined upon oath before the bishop of London, some inferior clergy, and the representatives of the pope. William de la Moore, the grand prior of England, was as earnest as de Molay had been in defence of the French Templars.

Four knights made a general confession of crimes, when they were told that the pope had authorised a full pardon to those who acknowledged their iniquities; but that if they persisted in heresy, they should be considered and punished as heretics. Thirteen newly admitted knights swore that they were not acquainted with the secrets of the order, but that they were prepared to renounce all the erroneous opinions in which it was possible the minds of men could be stained. William de la Moore, the grand prior, was the only man whom no fear of imprisonment or dread of ecclesiastical punishment could induce to deny his first avowal of the innocence of the order. He was requested to make a general confession; but he replied that he was not guilty of heresy, and would never abjure crimes which he had not committed.

In Ireland about thirty Templars, in Scotland only two, were confined and examined. In Lincoln the number somewhat exceeded twenty. There were twenty-three in York. The general charges of apostasy and idolatry were not proved in any case. However, all the knights made a general confession of the offence of heresy, and avowed they could not cleanse themselves from the crimes mentioned in the bull. The clergy pardoned them, and received them again into the bosom of the church. They were then sent into confinement in various monasteries until the decision of a general council should be declared.

The fate of the Templars in other parts of the world remains to be told. In Germany the innocence of the order was proved before the archbishops of Mainz and Trèves, at councils held in their respective dioceses. In Italy the pope had a little more success. Several Templars at Florence confessed every species of abomination. Much blood was shed in Lombardy, Tuscany, Sicily, Naples, and Provence, whenever the knights would not be guilty of self-condemnation. In those parts of Spain where the conduct of the Templars was inquired into, the result was an acquittal. Their military front was powerful, and the ministers of papal vengeance did not dare to apply the torture.

COUNCIL AT VIENNE

Four years after the first seizure of the Templars in France a council was held at Vienne in Dauphiné, for the purpose of making some general decision on the case of the order, October, 1311. The pope headed three hundred bishops, and an untold number of inferior clergy. All men who desired to defend the order were promised security and freedom. Nine cavaliers presented themselves before the assembly in the character of representatives of fifteen hundred of their brethren, who were living at Lyons, and in the[459] secret fastnesses of Savoy and Switzerland. Clement immediately violated his promise of protection, and threw the nine knights into prison. He then called upon the council for its opinion, whether in consequence of the confessions of the Templars the society ought not to be dissolved? With the disgraceful exception of one Italian prelate, and three French archbishops, the whole body of churchmen declared that so illustrious an order as that of the Red Cross knights ought not to be suppressed, until the grand-master and the nine knights had been heard in its defence. The pope disregarded the opinion of the majority; and tried in vain for six months to make a change.

THE ORDER SUPPRESSED

The king of France arrived at Vienne, and sanctioned by his presence, the pope declared that he should exercise the plenitude of papal authority. He accordingly dissolved the order provisionally and not absolutely, and reserved to himself the disposition of the persons and estates of the Templars. When the subject of the distribution of the knights’ Templar estates was debated in the council, the pope declared that they ought to be bestowed upon the Hospitallers, because the original purpose of the order was the subjugation of infidels, a purpose which the knights of Rhodes were earnestly pursuing.

The decree of confiscation was executed throughout Christendom. The Templars were robbed, but the Hospitallers did not enjoy the whole of the plunder. Philip the Fair, and his successor Louis le Hutin, retained nearly three hundred thousand livres [£12,000 or $60,000] for what they chose to term the expenses of the prosecution. The landed estates were slowly and unwillingly resigned, for the monarchs enjoyed the rents till the commissioners of the knights of Rhodes established their rights. In Germany the Teutonic knights assisted the Hospitallers in plundering those who had formerly been their brethren in arms in Palestine. Dinis, king of Portugal, preserved the order of the Red Cross knights, by changing their title from the soldiers of the Temple to that of the soldiers of Christ. Edward of England gave to different laymen much of the forfeited property. Numbers of the nobility too as heirs of the original donors seized many of the Templars’ estates. Indeed, so great was the injustice done to the Hospitallers, that Pope John XXII censured both the clergy and laity, for their disobedience to the decree of the council at Vienne.

The last circumstance which attended the fate of the Templars was the condemnation of the grand-master, Jacques de Molay.[81] With his dying lips he bore testimony to the virtue of the order; and his mental sufferings on account of his former want of firmness appeared to be greater than his mere corporeal pain. The brother of the prince of Dauphiné met with the same unhappy but honourable end as that of his friend Jacques de Molay. The two priors seem to have died in prison.b

THE CRUSADES IN THE WEST

Having completed the survey of the vain efforts for the Holy Land, it will be well to glance at the contests springing up elsewhere on the same fanatic belief that orthodoxy was a matter of life and death.a

[460]

Though the Crusades met with failure in the East, in the West they achieved their purpose; that is, certain expeditions were highly successful; for example that of the Teutonic knights and sword-bearers into Prussia and the neighbouring regions, where they founded a new state; also Simon de Montfort’s war against the Albigenses which destroyed an ancient civilisation; and the struggle between the Spaniards and the Moors, as a result of which the latter were forced to surrender the peninsula over to Christianity and the civilisation of Europe.

It will be observed that the scene of action of the European Crusades was the two extremities of the continent; around the mouths of the Niemen the pagans of the Baltic were to be converted, and in the country washed by the Tagus, the Moslems of Spain.

THE TEUTONIC CRUSADE

In the interval between the First and Second Crusades some citizens of Bremen and Lübeck had journeyed to the Holy Land and there founded a hospital for their compatriots, which was exclusively under the management of Germans. In Palestine all benevolent institutions were obliged to assume the form of military organisations; thus the Hospitallers, or officials in charge of the hospitals, became the knights of St. John, and the inmates of the temple of Solomon, the knights Templar. The German hospitallers also became transformed into an armed religious body that was called the Teutonic order. Like both the others, this order soon acquired vast properties in Europe, especially in Germany, and the emperor Frederick II raised its grand-master to the rank of prince of the realm. In 1230 a Polish prince made use of their zeal and arms, which could no longer be employed in the Holy Land, by despatching them on a mission to subjugate and convert the Prussians, a people who have since become so closely identified with the Germans settled in the country as to be no longer distinguishable from them. It was this idolatrous people, established between the Niemen and the Vistula, whose language, history, and religion have now completely disappeared, that gave its name to one of the largest and most prosperous states of modern Europe.

The Teutonic order took up its station first at Kulm, whence it proceeded to conquer the Prussians by the use of the means employed by Charlemagne against the Saxons; that is, by destroying one portion of the population and then building fortresses to contain the rest. It was this purpose that Königsberg and Marienburg were intended to serve.

Several years earlier a prelate of Livonia had founded the order of the Brothers of the Sword, known still as the knights of Christ, and the body of the sword-bearers, which subdued Livonia and Esthonia. Disputes with the bishops of Riga caused these organisations to unite in 1237 with the Teutonic order, whose forces were thus doubled. Marienburg became the capital of the order in 1309, and its grand-masters, who reigned over Prussia, Esthonia, Livonia, and Courland, caused these countries to hold communion with the rest of Europe, and planted in them the germs of civilisation. They remain to-day the richest and most progressive of the Russian provinces. As late as the fifteenth century the Teutonic knights retained the preponderance of power in northern Europe, all the countries between the lower Vistula and Lake Peipus being subject to them except Samogitia, a Lithuanian province which separated the original possessions of the two orders.

[461]

THE ATTACK ON THE ALBIGENSES

The crusade directed by Simon de Montfort against the populations of the south of France was at first most disastrous in its effects. During all the time that Christian warriors were being sent out to do battle with miscreants at the opposite end of the Mediterranean Sea, many infidels were awaiting conversion in the very heart of Europe. Not the Jews, who had furnished the first cause for the Crusades in the fury with which they inspired their early persecutors, but the mixed populations in the south of France, composed of Iberians, Gauls, Romans, Goths, and Moors, whose religious beliefs were far removed from orthodoxy. Just what name to give to their heresy it is hard to decide; even contemporaries were at a loss in this respect since they called the people simply Albigenses, from the town Albi, which was their common centre. One thing only is certain—that in 1167 a council was held near Toulouse, presided over by Nicetas, a Greek from Constantinople, at which many oriental ideas were adopted; it has also been asserted that ecclesiastics were treated with scorn in every part of the land, and even St. Bernard himself was received there with derision. From this centre of heresy missionaries were sent out in every direction, and already unseemly doctrines were making themselves known in Flanders, Germany, England, and even in Italy, while recently bands of marauders had spread out in the direction of Auvergne, pillaging churches and profaning sacred objects.

Among the rich and brilliant cities of the south the most important was Toulouse, where resided Count Raymond VI, one of the greatest nobles of the south. Another prominent house was that of Barcelona, which had lately obtained rule over Aragon and possessed Roussillon and Provence; there were further the proud and adventurous nobles of the Pyrenees, who lived free and independent lives, and owed not the least allegiance to either church or king.

The south of France had long been separated from the north. Having other customs and speaking a different tongue, it had made serious efforts under Dagobert, Charles Martel, Pepin, Charlemagne, Charles the Bald, and Hugh Capet, to constitute itself an independent state. Increase in commerce had brought ease to its citizens and affluence to its nobles, and the two classes united in peace and harmony to discharge municipal duties, thus assuring the peace of the whole community. But in those wealthy cities and brilliant courts, made gay by the songs of troubadours, religious doctrines were accorded scant attention, and heresy leaked in from every side.

The all-powerful Innocent III resolved to stamp out this hotbed of impiety that threatened to spread contagion far and wide. He began by organising the Inquisition, which was to seek out and judge heretics, and countless victims were immolated without in any way lessening the number of unbelievers, the rack and the stake being but indifferent demonstrators of the truth. The pope next sent to Raymond VI his legate, the monk Peter of Castelnau, with the demand that the heretics be immediately expulsed. But the heretics formed the main body of the population, and Castelnau accomplished nothing. Raymond was excommunicated and threatened with eternal fires, and the legate was murdered during his passage back over the Rhone (1208).

“Anathema on the count of Toulouse,” cried the pope, “and remission of sins to all who will take up arms against these pestilent inhabitants of Provence! Forward, soldiers of Christ! let the heretics be wiped out, and colonies of Catholics spring up where their cities now stand!”

[462]

The doctrine of extermination was preached by all the organs of the pope: and the duke of Burgundy, the counts of Nevers, Auxerre, Geneva, the bishops of Rheims, Sens, Rouen, Autun, with many Germans and inhabitants of Lorraine, massed forces, and set out on the crusade. Three armies made irruption into the south of France, headed by Simon de Montfort, a feudal lord of the environs of Paris, ambitious, fanatical, and cruel. The count of Toulouse was not immediately attacked, the pope hoping to weaken his resistance by appearing ready to extend a pardon, and hostilities were all directed against the viscount of Béziers. When the latter’s town was taken, the victors, not being able to distinguish the heretics, hesitated whom to strike. “Kill all,” said the legate, “God will easily recognise his own.” Thirty thousand are said to have perished. Carcassonne also succumbed, and the knights of the Ile de France divided up the country under Simon de Montfort, who was made suzerain over all.

Raymond hoped to be spared, now that so sanguinary a sacrifice had been offered up on the altar of orthodoxy, and Innocent himself was inclined to clemency, but the legates were without pity; they would extend mercy to the count only on condition that he should cause all his subjects to don the garb of penitents, degrade his nobles to the state of villeins, discharge his hired troops, raze his castles to the ground, and himself start on a crusade.

The count laughed at these proposals, and again the legates gave the signal for attack. There flocked to the banner of Simon de Montfort a multitude from the north, rejoicing that the highly profitable campaign in the south was not yet at an end. Raymond VI was vanquished at Castelnaudry, and the victors divided up his domains among themselves: to the prelates fell the bishoprics, and to the soldiers the fiefs. The defeated noble had no resource but to seek the protection of Pedro II, king of Aragon, who at once advanced to the rescue, and was joined by all the petty nobles of the Pyrenees, being looked upon by them as their chief.

The battle of Muret, in which the king perished, decided the fate of the south of France (1213). Two years afterward the Council of Lateran ratified the dispossession of Raymond and of most of the other nobles; the legates of the holy see offered their fiefs to the powerful barons who had participated in the crusade; but all save Simon de Montfort refused to accept gifts bought at the price of so much bloodshed. A harsh measure was passed, forbidding widows of heretics who possessed noble fiefs to marry any but Frenchmen during the next ten years. In the grasp of hands so ruthless the civilisation of southern France perished, and all gaiety and poesy disappeared. Innocent III, meanwhile, began to be troubled, fearing to have committed a great iniquity. “Give me back my lands,” the count de Foix said to him, “or I shall claim all of you—property, rights, and heritage, on the Day of Judgment.” “I acknowledge,” answered the pope, “that great wrong has been done you; but it was not done by my order, and I owe no thanks to those who are responsible.”

In their extremity the people of Languedoc bethought themselves of the king of France. Montpellier gave itself up to him, and Philip Augustus sent his son Louis to plant the national standard in the south of France. Louis returned thither at the death of Simon de Montfort, who was killed before Toulouse—whither Raymond VII, son of the old count, had also returned; and Montfort’s successor, Amaury, offered to cede to the king his father’s conquered possessions, which he could no longer defend against the reprobation of the people. Philip, at that time on the brink of the grave, refused the offer, but five years later it was accepted.

[463]

WESTERN ASSAULTS ON THE ARABS

Before, during, and after the great Crusades which had the Orient for their scene of action and all the peoples of Europe for their personages, there was being carried on in the West another and smaller undertaking of a similar nature, which won nothing like the renown attending the greater expeditions, but which displayed a tenacity of purpose that kept it in operation during at least eight centuries. When Charles Martel and Pepin le Bref expelled the Arabs from France they simply drove them to the other side of the Pyrenees, seeming to look upon that strong mountain barrier as the confine of Europe and Christianity. Spain was a country to be sacrificed, to be delivered over with Africa to the Moslem races by which it had been invaded. Spain had been Christian, however, before the invasion, and the mass of the people remained so after, by no means all having been subjected. Outside the conquered districts there remained a point where the sacred thought of independence could find safe harbour, and this point was gradually to expand until it formed the nucleus of a new Christian domination.

The weakening of the power of the Cordovan caliphate in its northern provinces, as a result of the revolt of the Beni Hassan in 864, was singularly favourable to the development of the small Christian states. The tenth century, however, did not continue to bring uninterrupted good fortune to the Christian states. While discords were beginning to creep in among their own number, the caliphate was restored by Abd ar-Rahman III, and the adroit Al-Mansur under Hisham II. The terrible defeat suffered by the Christians at Simancas in 940, the overthrow of Sancho the Great by the count of Castile who declared himself independent, and the subsequent reinstatement of Sancho by Abd ar-Rahman, reveal the kingdom of Leon as having fallen into a state of demoralisation so deep that even its enemies had power to dispose of the throne. Al-Mansur also weighed upon the Christians with a ruthless hand. In 997 he found himself master of all the lands the Christians had conquered south of the Douro and the Ebro. When he came to be defeated himself, however, at Calatanazar, near the source of the Douro, his chagrin was so great that he allowed himself to die by starvation, and in him perished the mainstay of the caliphate (998).

We have seen at another point in this history that during the eleventh century the Spanish Arabs fell into complete dissolution; the Christian states, on the other hand, grew into closer and closer union by means of frequent intermarriages and increased trade relations. This process of unification and internal adjustment, as well as the necessity of closing all the gaps left open by the sword of Al-Mansur, held in check the holy war for a period of nearly a century. At the end of that time it was resumed with greater brilliancy and success than before.

Not alone by reason of the fortunate alliances he was able to make did Sancho II merit the title of Great; greatness was to be achieved in Spain mainly by warring upon infidels, and many were the engagements during which the Moors were made to feel the might of his sword. Not content to rest here, he carried his victorious arms, in the intervals of preparing the substitution of the Christian dynasty of Aznar for that of Pelayo, into the heart of the Moslem country to the very walls of Cordova.

At Sancho’s death Spain was divided into four kingdoms. But Alfonso VI reunited Castile and Leon in 1072, and resumed in Spain the holy war which had been made extremely popular in Europe by the preparations for the First Crusade. The news of the Christian reverses in Jerusalem, and[464] also the growing influence of the holy see, had a powerful effect on Spain. It was the desire of Gregory VII to bring under his domination the Spanish Christian states which had hitherto enjoyed complete religious independence, and in case of their failure to yield it was feared that some day he would arm all Christianity against them.

Always characterised by boundless presumption, Gregory VII demanded of Alfonso VI that he pay him tribute, on the pretext that all lands taken from the infidels were by right the property of the church. Alfonso refused. Then Gregory fell back on another point, the adoption by the Spanish Christians of the Roman instead of the Gothic or Muzarabic ritual to which they had been used. Eventually Alfonso adopted the Roman ritual. Henceforth complete communion was held with Rome by the Spanish people which eventually became the most pronouncedly Catholic, if not always the most submissive to the holy see, of all the races of the earth.

Ferdinand I had profited by the divisions existing among the petty Arab sovereigns to wrest from them many of their possessions. He took Viseu, Lamego, Coimbra, and made the king of Toledo pay him tribute. In 1085 Alfonso VI was even more successful, gaining possession of the entire kingdom. Toledo, formerly the capital and metropolis of the Goths, became once more an important centre; and its restoration marks the fourth stage of the progress of the Christians from the Asturias, where they began their onward march, to the heart of the peninsula, where they were to take up a firm position behind the barrier of the Tagus.

Five years later the Capetian, Henri de Bourgogne, great-grandson of Robert king of France, who had distinguished himself at the conquest of Toledo, took at the mouth of the Douro, Porto Cale, which Alfonso raised to importance by making it the countship of Portugal. Simultaneously with this the famous Cid, Rodrigo de Bivar, the hero of Spanish chivalry and romance, achieved victory after victory along the coast of the Mediterranean, the most important of which was the conquest of Valencia (1094). Finally in 1118 Alfonso I, king of Aragon, won for himself a capital after the manner of the king of Castile, by taking possession of Saragossa, where a Moslem dynasty had long been in power. Thus the Christian invasion, divided like an army into three columns, was steadily advancing across the peninsula, one column in the centre, one in the east and one in the west.

In the centre progress was suddenly arrested, and was later checked along all the lines by unforeseen obstacles which the Christians were unable to surmount until after the lapse of nearly a century. Two new Moslem hordes poured in upon the land, surprising the Spanish conquerors in the midst of their belief that the sources of these invading tides had long since been exhausted. The Almoravids, and after them the Almohads, swarmed out of Africa and revived in the Moslem provinces of Spain the ancient faith of Islam. The names of these two sects signify, respectively, “close alliance with the faith,” and “Unitarians.” The Almoravids steadily increased their power and the extent of their dominion. At the death of the Cid (1099) they retook Valencia, gained possession of the Balearic Isles, and in 1108 won, in a battle as sanguinary and hard-fought as that of Zallaka, a signal victory over Alfonso VI. The Christians asked themselves in alarm if Spain, but half reconquered, was about to be wrested from them again.

As the result showed, their fears were groundless. Toledo, repeatedly besieged, defended itself with victorious energy; and the little earldom of Portugal not only successfully resisted attack, but itself took several towns and drove the invaders back whence they had come.

[465]

The invasion of the Almohads was similar in its effects to that of the Almoravids, which it immediately succeeded. The leader, Abdul-Mumin, began hostilities by laying siege to Fez, which he took in 1146; the same year he led his followers into Spain. As before, it was Castile that had to bear the heaviest shock of the invasion, and at the battle of Alarcon (1195) Alfonso VIII was badly defeated. Portugal, on the other hand, maintained its superiority and placed a decided check upon the invaders at Santerem (1184). The advancement made by Aragon and Portugal caused the thirteenth century to open gloriously for Spain in its struggles against the Moslems. It had, moreover, been given a second powerful instrument with which to achieve victory in the four military bodies organised in the twelfth century expressly for the Spanish Crusade, without prejudice to the great Holy Land crusaders who also took part—the orders of Alcantara, of Calatrava, and of St. James in Castile, and of Evora in Portugal.

In the year 1210 the news was spread throughout all Christendom that four hundred thousand Almohads had crossed the Strait of Gibraltar. Though deeply engaged in the war against the Albigenses, Pope Innocent III could not contemplate the danger thus announced without calling upon all Europe to succour Spain. Public prayers were ordered and indulgence promised to all who would volunteer to fight in the peninsula. The five Christian kings of Leon and Castile, temporarily separated at the time, joined their forces and marched against Muhammed, the fanatical leader of the Almohads. The encounter took place at Alacab, on the plateau of the Sierra Morena, according to the Arabs; at Las Navas de Tolosa, according to the Christians. After an obstinately contested battle the flight of the Andalusians decided the day in favour of the Christians. Muhammed, who had stationed himself on a height amid the serried ranks of his African guard, holding the Koran in one hand and his sword in the other, looked on in undisturbed passivity while his followers suffered the most terrible defeat. “God alone,” he said, “is just and powerful, the demon is without truth or greatness.” Muhammed was at last compelled to take flight on a swift courser of the desert, which carried him far from his enemies. This battle was decisive in the struggles between the Christians and the infidels. The Almoravids and Almohads once definitely repulsed, there rose up in Africa no more defenders of the Moslem faith sufficiently powerful to restore its dominion in Spain.

During the whole of the thirteenth century the Christians reaped the fruits of their victory, which was rendered the more complete by the anarchy that prevailed among all ranks of the Almohads. Cordova (1236), Seville (1266), and many other places fell into the hands of the king of Castile, while James I, king of Aragon, brought the Balearic Isles under subjection, and at the head of eighty thousand French and Spanish troops retook Valencia (1238). Portugal reached its limit of expansion when in 1270 it united the provinces of Algarve, and the outlines it then assumed have never since been changed. The Moors now possessed only the little kingdom of Granada, that was hemmed in on all sides by the sea and the domains of the king of Castile. Yet even in this confined space, their numbers swelled by the refugees that fled to them from the cities captured by the Christians, they contrived to maintain a power that staved off their ultimate downfall for a period of two hundred years. Save to repel certain incursions on the part of the Merinids of Maghreb which never seriously endangered their conquered possessions, the Christians had now no military operations to carry on; hence the crusade in Spain was practically suspended until a later date, 1492.

[466]

COMPARISON OF THE TWO CRUSADES

The crusade to Jerusalem had undoubtedly brought forth general results to civilisation, but its particular aim had not been accomplished. It founded no important institutions in the Orient; it did not even succeed in delivering the Holy Sepulchre, and millions of men had left their bones along its route. The crusade in Spain, on the other hand, while it bore no consequences to the social conditions of Europe in the Middle Ages, changed the whole face of Spain and reacted powerfully upon the Europe of modern times. It took the peninsula away from the Moors and gave it to the Christians; it brought into being the little kingdom of Portugal which, carrying on a crusade of its own beyond seas, discovered the Cape of Good Hope; and it made great states of Aragon and Castile, whose kings were inspired with European ambitions by their victories in Spain, and whose inhabitants gained, in the eight centuries of warfare, military customs and knowledge which made of them the condottieri of Charles V and Philip II, not the peaceful and industrious heirs of the commerce and brilliant civilisation of the Moors.

There was still another point. What was the cause of this difference between the two crusades? Jerusalem, situated far from the centre of Catholic denomination, remained in the hands of the Moslems, by whom it was surrounded, for precisely the same reason that Toledo, situated at the limit of their zone of occupation, escaped them to become the possession of the nearby Christians. The whole matter was simply a question of distance. Palestine bordered on the territory of Mecca, as Spain lay in full view of Rome. Geographical relationship is a powerful factor, even in matters that seem to come the least under its influence—the theories and doctrines of religion.e

FOOTNOTES

---

[467]

CHAPTER VII. CONSEQUENCES OF THE CRUSADES

No religious wars have ever been so long, so sanguinary, and so destructive as the Crusades. Countless hosts of holy warriors fell the victims of their own vindictive enthusiasm and military ardour. Fierceness and intolerance were the strongest features in the character of the dark ages, and it is, perhaps, not so much in the conduct, as in the object, of the Crusades, that anything distinct and peculiar can be marked. It was not for the conversion of people, nor the propagation of opinions, but for the redemption of the sepulchre of Christ, and the destruction of the enemies of God, that the crimson standard was unfurled. The western world did not cast itself into Asia from any view of expediency, or in consequence of any abstract theoretical principle of a right of hostility; men did not arm themselves from any conviction that the co-existence of Christendom and Islamism was compatible with the doctrines of the Koran, or that the countries of the West would be precipitated into the gulf of destruction, if Asia Minor were not torn from the Seljuk Turks, and restored to the emperor of Constantinople. But the flame of war spread from one end of Europe to the other, for the deliverance of the Holy Land from a state which was called pollution; and the floodgates of fanaticism were unlocked for the savage and iniquitous purpose of extermination. But popular madness would not listen to the calls of generous policy and lofty ambition. The wish for the redemption of the Holy Land was the feeling which influenced both Godfrey de Bouillon and St. Louis, the first and last great champions of the cross; it was that wild desire which moved Europe for two centuries, and without it the Crusades would never have been undertaken.

The question of the justice of the holy wars is one of easy solution. The crusaders were not called upon by heaven to carry on hostilities against the Mussulmans. Palestine did not, of right, belong to the Christians in consequence of any gift of God; and it was evident, from the fact of the destruction of the second temple, that there was no longer any peculiar[468] sanctity in the ground of Jerusalem. There is no command in the Scriptures for Christians to build the walls of the Holy City, and no promise of an earthly Canaan as the reward of virtue. If the Christians had been animated by the conviction that war with all the world was the vital principle of the Mohammedan religion, then also a right of hostility would have been raised.

As Lord Bacon said in his War with Spain: “Forasmuch as it is a fundamental law in the Turkish empire, that they may, without any other provocation, make war upon Christendom for the propagation of their law; so that there lieth upon Christians a perpetual fear of war, hanging over their heads, from them; and therefore, they may at all times, as they think good, be upon the preventive.” But before they could have been justified on this last-mentioned argument, proof was necessary that the danger was imminent, and that time and circumstances had not reduced the principle to a mere dry, inoperative letter of the law. In the first hundred and fifty years of Mohammedan history, the Mussulmans made continued and successful attacks on the Christians; and the invasion of France by the Spanish and African Moors, seemed to endanger Christendom as a world independent of and not tributary to the Saracens. In all that long period the people of the West might have instituted crusades on principles of self-defence. But as they had acquiesced for ages in the existence of Islam, they could not afterwards draw the sword, except for the purpose of preventing or repelling new aggressions. No dangers hung over Christendom at the time when the Crusades commenced.

MORAL EFFECTS

On principles of morals and politics the holy wars cannot be justified. Yet war became a sacred duty, and obligatory on every class of mankind. The fair face of religion was besmeared with blood, and heavenly attraction was changed for demoniacal repulsiveness. The Crusades encouraged the most horrible violences of fanaticism. They were the precedent for the military contentions of the church with the Prussians and Albigenses; and as the execrable Inquisition arose out of the spirit of clerical dragooning, the wars in Palestine brought a frightful calamity on the world. Universal dominion was the ambition of the Roman pontiffs; and the iniquity of the means was in dreadful accordance with the audacity of the project. The pastors of the church used anathemas, excommunications, interdicts, and every weapon in the storehouse of spiritual artillery; and when the world was in arms for the purpose of destroying infidels, it was natural that the soldiers of God should turn aside and chastise other foes to the true religion. Crusades with idolaters and erring Christians were considered as virtuous and as necessary as crusades with Saracens; the south of France was saturated with heretical blood; and those booted apostles, the Teutonic knights, converted, sword in hand, the Prussians and Lithuanians from idolatry to Christianity.

The sword of religious persecution was not directed against Turks and heretics only. The reader remembers the sanguinary enormities that disgraced the opening of the First Crusade. Not only was this instance of persecution of the Jews the earliest one upon record in the annals of the West since the fall of the Roman Empire, but it is also true that that wretched people met with most of their dreadful calamities during the time of the holy wars. It is highly probable that the hatred which the Christians felt against them was embittered by that fierce and mistaken zeal for religion which gave birth to the Crusades; and as the chief object of those Crusades[469] was the recovery of the sepulchre at Jerusalem, it was natural that the Christian belligerents should behold with equal detestation the nation which had crucified the Saviour and the nation which continued to profane his tomb. This conjecture is much confirmed by the circumstance, that the prevailing prejudice in the Middle Ages against the Jews was that they often crucified Christian children in mockery of the great sacrifice. If it be objected to this reasoning that the crusading Cœur de Lion befriended the Jews, we reply that the crusading king Edward I expelled them from England.

The penalties which the church inflicted on its members, as the temporal punishments of sin, might have been unwarranted by Scripture, and were doubtless often awarded by cruelty and caprice. But the practice of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving, was in itself salubrious to the individual, and beneficial to society. It softened pride; it subdued the sensual passions; it diffused charity. Instead of these blessings, the slaughter of human beings was made the propitiation of offence; and the Christian virtues of self-denial and benevolence were considered an absurd and antiquated fashion. As the discipline of the church had been broken in upon for one purpose, it could be violated for another. The repentant sinner who could not take the cross himself, might contribute to the charge of the holy expedition. When offences were once commuted for money, the religious application of the price of pardon soon ceased to be necessary. Absolutions from penance became a matter of traffic, and holy virtues were discountenanced. For this reason, and for many others, the Crusades conferred no benefits on morals. The evils of a life free from domestic restraints, formed a strong argument against pilgrimages in very early ages of the church, and it does not appear that when the wanderers became soldiers their morals improved. The vices of the military colonists in Palestine are the burden of many a page of the crusading annalists. Something must be detracted from those representations in consequence of their authors’ prejudice that the vices of the Christians in the Holy Land effected the ruin of the kingdom. Yet enough remains to show that the tone of morals was not at a higher pitch in Palestine than in Europe. The decrees of the council at Nablus (Shechem or Neapolis) prove that a difference of religion, although a barrier against the dearest charities of life, was no impediment to a vicious sensual intercourse between the Franks and the Moslems. The Latins lived in a constant course of plunder on their Mussulman neighbours, and therefore on their return to Europe could not spread around them any rays of virtue.[82]

POLITICAL EFFECTS

As the Crusades were carried on for holy objects, not for civil or national ends, their connection with politics could only have been collateral and indirect. The spirit of crusading, composed as it was of superstition and military ardour, was hostile to the advancement of knowledge and liberty; and consequently no improvement in the civil condition of the kingdoms of the West could have been the legitimate issue of the principles of the holy wars. The pope was the only monarch who mixed politics with his piety. The other[470] princes seem to have been influenced by the spirit of religion or of chivalry; and it was only in the attempts again to disorder the intellect of Europe, that we find one monarch, Henry IV of England, acting the part of a crafty politician.

Great changes in the political aspect of Europe were coeval with but were not occasioned by the holy wars. The power of the French crown was much higher at the end of the thirteenth, than it had been at the same period of the eleventh century; but the influence of the imperial throne was materially depressed. These opposite effects could never have been the simple results of the same cause; namely, the loss of the flower of the western aristocracy in Palestine.

The causes of the depression of imperial authority were the aggrandisement of the nobles (a natural effect of the feudal system); the improvident grants of lands which the Swabian family made to the clergy; the contests between the popes and emperors respecting their different jurisdictions, and, above all the rest, the destructive wars which the emperors waged in the north of Italy for the reannexation of that country to the throne of the descendants of the imperial house of Charlemagne.

The political changes in England cannot with justice be attributed to the Crusades. Until the days of Richard I holy wars had not become a general or a national concern. The monarchy stood the same at the close of his reign as at its commencement; and the only favourable issue of Cœur de Lion’s armament was an increase of military reputation. His renunciation of feudal sovereignty over Scotland had no influence on politics. Edward I pressed his claim, although Richard had deprived him of his strongest support. The pusillanimous John assumed the cross; but that circumstance did not occur until after he had surrendered his crown to the papal see, and until the barons had formed a confederacy against him. His assumption of the cross neither retarded nor accelerated the progress of English liberty. The pope was not linked to him by stronger ties than those which had formerly bound them; and the barons were not deceived by the religious hypocrisy of the king. The transmarine expeditions of the earls of Cornwall and Salisbury, and of Prince Edward in the reign of Henry III, were the ebullitions of religious and military ardour, but did not affect the general course of events.

The great political circumstance of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, which was important above all others to civil liberty, was the appearance of free and corporate towns. But the Crusades neither produced their establishment nor affected their history. After various vicissitudes of fortune, the battle of Legnano, and the Peace of Constance, established the independence of the towns in the north of Italy. The Crusades did not[471] contribute to these events; for the two sacred expeditions which had taken place were as disastrous to peasants as to princes, and drained Europe of all ranks of society. Consequently it was not from the holy wars that the people gained their liberties. We find that so ill regulated was the liberty of the towns alluded to, that anarchy soon succeeded. Men of personal importance and wealth aspired to sovereign honours; an overwhelming aristocracy extinguished freedom, and at the end of the thirteenth century there were as many princes in Tuscany and Lombardy as there had been free towns at the end of the twelfth.

It is only in the maritime cities of Italy that any indisputable influence of the Crusades can be marked. Trade with the Christian states in Palestine, and the furnishing of transports to the pilgrims, increased the wealth of the commercial cities. The capture of Constantinople by the French and Venetians was important in its issues. Venice regained maritime ascendency; but it was soon taken from her by the Genoese, who aided the Greeks to recover their capital. Genoa then became a leading power in the Mediterranean, and she subdued Pisa. The rapid increase of the wealth and power of Venice and Genoa, and the eventual destruction of Pisa seem, then, to form the principal circumstances in commercial history which the Crusades were instrumental in producing. But how insignificant were these events, both locally and generally, both in their relation to Italy and to the general history of Europe, when compared with the discovery of a maritime passage to India!

A view of the heroic ages of Christianity, in regard to their grand and general results, is a useful and important, though a melancholy employment. The Crusades retarded the march of civilisation, thickened the clouds of ignorance and superstition; and encouraged intolerance, cruelty, and fierceness. Religion lost its mildness and charity; and war its mitigating qualities of honour and courtesy. Such were the bitter fruits of the holy wars!c

INFLUENCE UPON COMMERCE

Trade with the East, at that time, embraced many more articles of commerce than at the present day. Sugar and several other commodities sought for as luxuries or used as medicine, which now come entirely from the new world, were brought from Egypt or the Indies. Europeans looked to Asia for precious gems, especially emeralds, whose worth equalled that of diamonds, until the discovery of the rich mines in the mountains of America. Pearls were then to be found only on the shores of oriental seas. The Crusades gave the peoples of Europe a taste for delicacies and Asiatic ornaments, which several of them had never before known. Vanity and enervation made precious stones, silks, perfumes, and all the products less useful than pleasant which nature has sown in profusion throughout the Orient, necessary to them.

Accustomed by their intercourse with the Orientals to the burning savour of spices, soon they were not able to get along without them. They could not prepare famous dishes without plentiful use of spice; wines even were perfumed with them. Romancers of the era of the Crusades sang the praises, on nearly every page, of cinnamon, musk, clove, and ginger. Did these writers praise some exquisite odour, it was with spices they compared it. Did their fertile imagination build some superb palace, the magic home of the most powerful genii, they surrounded it with an odoriferous forest, planted with spice-bearing trees. Several Italian towns, especially the[472] republics of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa, got from this, almost entirely, not only the benefits of a commerce which embraced so many sought-for commodities, but the other advantages of a sea-trade abandoned to the Franks, by the Greeks and Arabs.

ENRICHMENT OF CITIES

Venice, who nourished amid her waters an enormous population, seems through her natural environment to have been peopled only with merchants and followers of the sea. The Crusades helped the proud city to the accomplishment of her brilliant destiny, to make the Orient tremble at her fleets, to enrich the Occident by her industry, and to command respect through many ages for her military power. Genoa, less happily situated, and less rich than Venice, was, however, powerful enough to have aroused the Sea-Republic’s jealousy. Pisa had pushed herself too late into rivalry with Genoa, and the destruction of her harbour was the work of implacable Genoese hatred. Florence, never free from the throes of civil discord, obtained nevertheless great wealth from her commerce, which she generously consecrated to the culture of the fine arts.

The Crusades, therefore, enriched the great cities in giving the opportunity to extend their trade, and also to raise to exorbitant prices charges for their ships. The hardships and dangers which were inseparable from the overland route made it less and less frequented after the first expeditions. Crowds of pilgrims made their way to the ports, and several Italian republics amassed, in the transportation of human freight, a degree of wealth comparable for that time to that which the merchandise of the new world had since brought to the most flourishing cities of modern days.

COLONISATION

The establishment of colonies in the East gave more substantial foundation to Italy’s prosperity. Several cities, whose own interest was a constant stimulus, and whose industry grew with success, founded trading colonies in Egypt, Africa, throughout the kingdom of Jerusalem; at Tyre, where the Pisans had formed a celebrated commercial group; at Antioch, at Acre, stronghold of the Christians; at several other places which the Crusades had opened to them; and as a result the principal cause of the decline of Venice and other powerful Italian cities was not alone the discovery of the Cape of Good Hope, but to some extent the conquests which made Selim I master of Egypt.

Before the days of the holy wars, some of the Italian towns already possessed trading stations in the Greek Empire, but Constantinople having fallen into the hands of the Latins, the active spirit of the Italians was no longer disturbed by the defiant policy of the Eastern emperors. The Genoese founded the colony of Kaffa, which became very prosperous; the Venetians and Pisans multiplied their warehouses in many places. The subjects of the doge, always mindful of their commerce, demanded the islands of the archipelago, in dividing with the French the territory wrested from the Eastern Empire; but at the moment of taking possession of their share they feared to weaken themselves by occupying territory so remote and widely separated. In the end, however, they could not bring themselves to let go a maritime country so well adapted to trade, and the senate invited by[473] proclamation the rich citizens to take possession of these isles, promising to give in fief those they succeeded in making subject to themselves. Thus it happened that the descendants of the Greeks once so jealous of their political independence saw, so to speak, their freedom at the auction block in the public squares of Venice.

And thus it was that the Crusades ruined the Greeks and the Arabs, and that traffic between the East and the West had to pass almost exclusively through the hands of the Italians, then called Lombards, active, sharp merchants and pitiless usurers, who have left their names as a monument to their thrift, upon the commercial streets of many a great town; those localities where the money lender, furnishing more often a passing aid to extravagance than real assistance to misery, exhibits his insatiable greed. They tried, in the twelfth century, to create merchant tribunals in several towns, to decide commercial disputes and make treaties with strangers—the first separation of commercial jurisprudence from common law. We shall be forgiven doubtless for not entering into any minute description of the Italian commercial establishments in Greece and Asia; it has been sufficient to note the turn given by the Crusades to trade in general.

The flourishing condition to which Venice, Genoa, and Pisa in the south of Europe were raised by trade with the East was almost equalled in the north by that of the Hanseatic towns. Necessary commodities for use at sea, all the products of colder climes, offered to the Teutonic Hansa large and assured profits. As the Lombards brought into parts of Germany where money was scarce the products of the south and east, there sprang up an exchange of merchandise for merchandise. The Hanseatic League apparently came into existence about the beginning of the thirteenth century, and it is not hard to believe that the commercial activity stimulated by the Crusades favoured the formation of the powerful federation which breathed nothing but the love of gain, and which bartered for all the wealth of the south with all the product of the north.

In infusing into trade a new activity, the Crusades necessarily perfected the art of navigation. We may well admit that the sea held less of terror for one who confronted it to perform a religious duty, and insensibly this fear-inspiring element became less regarded as the inevitable tomb of all who confided to it their life or fortune. Moreover vessels ceased to be guided by blind instinct or the insufficient experience of pilots. The compass, whose origin it is so difficult to establish (and indeed the instrument may not have been invented before the time of the First Crusade), was in general use on the ships that plied the Mediterranean. We must admire the fortunate but rash industry of the Italians who overcame the caprices and fury of the waves. These navigators gained experience more and more in constantly transporting pilgrims, and proved that it was not impossible to sail the seas in winter. Venice surpassed the whole world in the brilliance of her maritime glory. She well deserved that a pope of this period, zealous to show his gratitude to his defenders, presented the doge, with solemn ceremony, the wedding ring which was for long ages the unique emblem of the republic’s naval power.

Other fleets than those of Italy found their way to the Holy Land. One might see on the Southern Sea vessels carrying those pirates and adventurers which set out every year in great numbers from the countries in the north, the Flemings, the Dutch, the Swedes, the Danes often rendered considerable assistance to the Christians in the East. Norwegians fought under King Baldwin at the taking of Sidon; the Flemings rescued Lisbon from the[474] Saracens. These northern people came in high-decked massive ships, while the vessels in use on the Mediterranean were very light and shallow affairs; a difference in structure which could not be noticed without a comparison of advantages and disadvantages.

From the Crusades may be dated the establishment of the French navy. Philip Augustus, on his return from the Holy Land, organised a national fleet; before this the French fleets were composed of foreign vessels hired for a certain time. The title of “admiral,” of which the name and idea was borrowed from the Greeks or the Arabs, came into constant use about the time of the Second Crusade, whereas the rank was never bestowed in former days except at the commencement of a war, and went out of use at its close.

Very soon the ocean and the Mediterranean were covered with vessels manned by prudent and intrepid sailors. The great overland route from Antwerp to Genoa, which was expensive, slow, and difficult, was thenceforth given up.

Naval architecture learned a lesson from several abuses which the Crusades momentarily had introduced into the art. Ships of excessive capacity, too weak, and of faulty proportions had been hastily built in order to accommodate the crowd of pilgrims. Seamen who wished their voyages to be more lucrative and passengers desirous of travelling in companies began to adopt these ungainly vessels. However, this departure from the principles of shipbuilding caused the loss of many fleets and brought about a fortunate innovation in naval architecture. Experience taught that a single mast was not sufficient in a vessel of great size, and we may trace to this period the custom of furnishing several masts to a single ship—a custom whose antiquity is well proven, but whose origin is somewhat shadowed in doubt.

An increase in the number of sails must of necessity follow the adoption of more than one mast; ships were no longer stopped in their course for lack of a directly favourable wind,—by trimming the sails with skill the seaman progressed nearly always towards his destination. The art of sailing for a certain point with the wind nearly dead ahead must certainly be counted as one of the most ingenious and important discoveries ever made.

INFLUENCE ON INDUSTRY

The same causes which gave a new activity to commerce served to develop powerfully every resource of industry. At the time of the first Crusades there were no manufactories of silken stuffs but those of the Greeks, a species of industry they had taken from the Persians, but which they themselves were soon forced to give over to Sicily. Then artisans leaving the island taught the Italians the art of making silk. The industry occupied principally the members of the religious order of the Humilies, who invented, it is said, cloth of gold and of silver.

[475]

In the cities of the Orient the Saracens, also, had manufactures of goods, and from them the crusaders bought textile fabrics of camels’ hair. These industries and those of the Greeks, whether the latter was transported to Palermo or remained in the Eastern Empire, were able to serve as models or as incentive, in Europe, to many establishments where wool was worked. There were some famous glass manufactories at Tyre. The sand which covers the environs of that town has the property of giving a high degree of transparence to the vitrified matter from which beautiful shapes were fashioned. These productions excited probably the emulation of Venice who drew great profit from her glassware, particularly in the fifteenth century when the use of metal vessels was abandoned for that of glass. Here are some particulars about inventions, the only ones we have been able to gather. Mills, whose motive power is wind, were invented in Asia Minor where running water is very scarce. It has been supposed that the crusaders introduced them into Europe in the twelfth century—a conjecture which would seem to be confirmed by the application of parts of windmills on a great number of old armorial bearings, but which certain other evidence does not permit us to adopt. Several writers have also presumed that the crusaders spread a knowledge of the invention of paper, which they had derived from the Greeks, throughout Europe.

The Arabs excelled at metal working and they knew how to chase and encrust it. They invented the art of “damascening,” which gave to steel the brilliance and splendour of gold and silver. Antiquaries have observed that since the Crusades the stamping of coins and the imprint of seals seem less incorrect and some attribute this improvement to lessons learned from the Arabs. The crusaders, however indignant at the profanation of the Temple of Jerusalem, could not but admire the ornamentation of precious metals by which the columns and walls had been artistically treated in honour of Mohammed. They brought away with them more than five hundred silver vessels consecrated to the service of the false prophet. The process of enamelling metals and the use in painting of solid, bright colours may have been brought to perfection by the sight of these Arabian works of art. They also brought back from the Orient a quantity of rubies, hyacinths, emeralds, sapphires, and diamonds, and they found out how to set them in gold and silver, so as to give an undying charm through the taste of their mounting and their setting.

THE MASONS ORGANISE

The Crusades contributed indirectly to the progress of art in that they caused religious orders and devout establishments to be multiplied. The number of sacred edifices which rose up at that time throughout Europe is truly prodigious. Nobles and even those who had little piety were ambitious for the title of “founder of a church.” While they may have wrecked temples in one place, it was often their pleasure to build them in others.

One extraordinary circumstance greatly favoured this eagerness to erect edifices devoted to the religious cult. In France, in Italy especially, it had been common rumour that the world was nearing its end and it was thought unnecessary, in this event, to repair churches, and even more useless to build new ones. But when the predicted period arrived and there were no signs of the final catastrophe, alarm diminished, and ashamed to have been misled by pusillanimous fear, people were anxious to make amends for the neglect[476] of altars and sacred places of which they had been guilty. They were not satisfied to pay their debt to religion by rebuilding unsafe churches, but those of whose stability there was no question were torn down on the specious pretext that they were not sufficiently magnificent. To accomplish their aims a society was formed composed of men of every degree, noble and humble, who made themselves in their devotion into carpenters and masons; they offered their services in every direction, hauling carts like beasts of burden or binding themselves to certain religious devotions. The cathedral of Chartres is a monument of the labour of these pious workmen. These strange ideas having been developed towards the end of the eleventh century, the Crusades found in men’s minds a passion for this sort of construction, and they added to the general enthusiasm.

GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE

Several monuments of architecture which still excite our admiration are the fruit of the artistic impulse received from contact with people more devoted to its culture and from the growing fervour of devotion. The sight of Greek and Arab monuments introduced into the West a new taste by which that Syrian, Arab, or Saracen type of architecture, improperly called Gothic, was brought to its highest degree of perfection. Delicately pointed ogive arches replaced the low and ugly openings which timid builders were afraid to raise higher and which presented but narrow outlooks to view. Architects were judged skilful as they were able to astonish by the boldness and daring of their own work. As in the mosques, they loaded upon light and graceful columns enormous masses which seemed upheld by the support of an invisible arm. They cut stones into a thousand different and often most fanciful forms, and set into them painted glass whose brilliant colours were admirably brought out by the rays of the sun. And as if they foresaw the indifference of posterity to their work, they gave it a solidity which has enabled it to go for great lengths of time without care and restoration.

At that time appeared the most magnificent offsprings of Gothic architecture. Then was built the leaning tower of Pisa, which has become a marvel through the injury of time. A Greek architect built at Venice the church of St. Mark, strongly impressed with the degenerate taste of the Greeks. A German conceived the plan of the tower of Strasburg, whose delicate structure seems unable to hold it so high in the air. Suger did not disdain to study architecture; he restored his own abbey church and left an account of his labours. The foundations of Amiens, masterpiece of bold and delicate construction, were laid. La Sainte Chapelle at Paris, less vast but equally delicate in style, was the finest work of the favourite architect whom St. Louis took with him to Asia. We should go on at too great a length were we to enumerate all the superb edifices built in the glorious age of Gothic architecture. Barbaric, perhaps, in ornamentation, these artists have never been equalled in principle, in general design, stone-cutting, in knowledge of arching, and in the majesty of their edifices as a whole.

SCULPTURE AND PAINTING

Sculpture made these temples alive with a host of statues. It has preserved for us the images of many famous men, whose portraits, drawn from nature, we often regret not to know.

[477]

Painting was cultivated with greater zeal. Cimabue developed his happy faculties at Florence according to the teaching of some artists from Constantinople. He was the first to show what wonders one could expect from an almost forgotten art, and it is right that he should be placed at the head of all the painters that have appeared since his time.

From what has been said it is certain that the Crusades helped to infuse into the West a taste for painting, sculpture, and architecture. The spirit of conquest has always awakened that of the fine arts. Though artists may flee from the clash of arms, their souls, inspired by the commotion of great warlike movements and the general emulation of courage and valour, exhibit at such time a noble ambition for glory. The aspect of the theatre of desolation and carnage, swept by the conqueror’s tread, kindles often the sacred fire, which is extinguished in times of peace and tranquillity, and marvellous productions, conceived and matured in deep thought, quickly follow the imperfect and hastily finished sketch. Nations also wish to celebrate, by public monuments, triumphs watered with their blood and tears. For this reason painters display on heroes’ heads the wings of victory, are lavish with palm and crown, and place on every side the emblems of fame. Cities become filled with superb buildings, and public squares peopled with folk of bronze and marble who seem to live and breathe.e

HERDER’S OPINION OF THE CRUSADES

It has been customary to ascribe so many beneficial effects to the Crusades, that, conformably to this opinion, our quarter of the globe must require a similar fever, to agitate and excite its forces, once in every five or six centuries; but a closer inspection will show that most of these effects proceeded not from the Crusades, at least not from them alone; and that among the various impulses Europe then received, they were at most accelerating shocks, acting upon the whole in collateral or oblique directions, with which the minds of Europeans might well have dispensed. Indeed it is a mere phantom of the brain to frame one prime source of events out of seven distinct expeditions, undertaken in a period of two centuries, by different nations, and from various motives, solely because they bore one common name.

Trade the Europeans had already opened with the Arabian states, before the Crusades: and they were at liberty to have profited by it, and extended it, in a far more honourable way than by predatory campaigns. By these, indeed, carriers, bankers, and purveyors were gainers: but all their gain accrued from the Christians, against whose property they were in fact the crusaders. What was torn from the Greek Empire was a disgraceful traders’ booty, serving, by extremely enfeebling this empire, to render Constantinople an easier prey at a future period to the Turkish hordes, who were continually pressing more closely upon it. The Venetian Lion of St. Mark prepared the way, by the Fourth Crusade, for the Turks to enter Europe and spread themselves so widely in it. The Genoese, it is true, assisted one branch of the Greek emperors to re-ascend the throne: but it was the throne of a weakened, broken empire, which fell an easy prey to the Turks; then both the Venetians and Genoese lost their best possessions, and finally almost all their trade, in the Mediterranean and Euxine seas.

Chivalry arose not from the Crusades, but the Crusades from chivalry: the flower of French and Norman knighthood appeared in Palestine in the first campaign. The Crusades, indeed, contributed rather to rob chivalry[478] of its proper honours, and to convert real armed knights into mere armorial ones. For in Palestine many assumed the crested helmet, which in Europe they durst not have borne: they brought home with them armorial devices and nobility, which they transmitted to their families, and thus introduced a new class, the nobility of the herald’s office, and in time also nobility by letters patent. As the number of the ancient dynasties, the true equestrian nobility, lessened, these new men sought to obtain possessions and hereditary prerogatives, like them: they carefully enumerated their ancestors, acquired dignities and privileges, and in a few generations assumed the title of ancient nobility; though they had not the slightest pretensions to rank with those dynasties which were princes to them. Every man that bore arms in Palestine might become a knight: the first Crusades were years of general jubilee for Europe. These new nobles in right of military service were soon of great use to growing monarchy, which cunningly knew how to avail itself of them against such of the superior vassals as still remained. Thus passion balances passion, and one appearance counteracts another: and at length the nobility of the camp and the court totally obliterated the ancient chivalry.

The arts and sciences, too, were nowise promoted by the proper crusaders. The disorderly troops that first flocked to Palestine had not the least notion of them; and were not likely to acquire them in the suburbs of Constantinople, or from the Turks and mamelukes in Asia. In the succeeding campaigns we need not reflect on the short time the armies passed there, and the wretched circumstances under which this time was often spent merely on the confines of the country, to dissipate the splendid dream of great discoveries imported thence. The pendulum clock, which the emperor Frederick II received as a present from Kamil, did not introduce gnomonics into Europe; the Grecian palaces, which the crusaders admired in Constantinople, did not improve the style of European architecture. Some crusaders, particularly Frederick I and II, laboured to promote the progress of knowledge: but Frederick I did this ere he beheld Asia; and the short visit paid that country by Frederick II served only as a fresh stimulus to urge him forward in that course of government which he had long before chosen. Not one of the spiritual orders of knighthood introduced any new knowledge into Europe, or contributed to its cultivation.

All that can be said in favour of the Crusades, therefore, is confined to a few occasions, on which they co-operated with causes already existing, and involuntarily promoted them.

(1) As multitudes of wealthy vassals and knights repaired to the Holy Land in the first campaigns, and many of them never returned, their estates were of course sold or swallowed up by others. By this they profited who could, the liege lord, the church, the cities already established, each after his own manner: this promoted and accelerated the course of things, tending to confirm the regal power by the erection of a middle class, but was by no means its commencement.

(2) Men became acquainted with countries, people, religions, and constitutions of which they were before ignorant; their narrow sphere of vision was enlarged; they acquired new ideas, new impulses. Attention was drawn to things which would otherwise have been neglected; what had long existed in Europe was employed to better purpose; and as the world was found to be wider than had been supposed, curiosity was excited after a knowledge of its remotest parts. The mighty conquests made by Jenghiz Khan in the north and east of Asia attracted men’s eyes chiefly towards Tatary; whither Marco Polo the Venetian, Rubruquis (Guillaume de Rubrouck), the[479] Frenchman, and John de Plano Carpino (Giovanni Piano Carpini), an Italian, travelled with very different views: the first, for the purpose of trade; the second, to satisfy royal curiosity; the third, sent by the pope, to make converts of the people. These travels, of course, have no connection with the Crusades, before and after which they were undertaken. The Levant itself is less known to us from these expeditions, than might have been expected: the accounts the Orientals give of it, even in the period when Syria swarmed with Christians, are still indispensable to us.

(3) Finally, in this holy theatre Europeans became better acquainted with one another, though not in a manner much to be prized. With this more intimate acquaintance kings and princes for the most part brought home an implacable enmity: in particular the wars between England and France derived from them fresh fuel. The unfortunate experiment, that a Christian republic could and might contend in unison against infidels, formed a precedent for similar wars in Europe, which have since extended to other quarters of the globe. At the same time it cannot be denied that, while the neighbouring powers of Europe obtained a closer inspection of their mutual weaknesses and strength, some obscure hints were given for a more comprehensive policy, and a new system of relationship in peace and war. Everyone was desirous of wealth, trade, conveniences, and luxuries; as an uncultivated mind is prone to admire these in strangers, and envy them in the hands of another. Few, who returned from the East, could be satisfied with European manners; even their heroism left much behind, awkwardly imitated Asia in the West, or longed for fresh travels and adventures. For the actual and permanent good produced by any event is always proportionate to its consonancy with reason.

Unfortunate would it have been for Europe if, at the time its military swarms were contending for the Holy Sepulchre in a corner of Syria, the arms of Jenghiz Khan had been sooner and more powerfully turned toward the West. Then probably our quarter of the globe would have been the prey of the Mongols, like Poland and Russia; and its nations might have dislodged, with the pilgrim’s staff in their hands, to tell their beads round the object of their contention.b

GIBBON ON THE RESULTS OF THE CRUSADES

As soon as the arms of the Franks were withdrawn, the impression, though not the memory, was erased in the Mohammedan realms of Egypt and Syria. The faithful disciples of the prophet were never tempted by a profane desire to study the laws or language of the idolaters; nor did the simplicity of their primitive manners receive the slightest alteration from their intercourse in peace and war with the unknown strangers of the West. The Greeks, who thought themselves proud, but who were only vain, showed a disposition somewhat less inflexible. In the efforts for the recovery of their empire, they emulated the valour, discipline, and tactics of their antagonists. The modern literature of the West they might justly despise; but its free spirit would instruct them in the rights of man; and some institutions of public and private life were adopted from the French. The correspondence of Constantinople and Italy diffused the knowledge of the Latin tongue; and several of the fathers and classics were at length honoured with a Greek version. But the national and religious prejudices of the Orientals were inflamed by persecution; and the reign of the Latins confirmed the separation of the two churches.

[480]

If we compare, at the era of the Crusades, the Latins of Europe with the Greeks and Arabians, their respective degrees of knowledge, industry, and art, our rude ancestors must be content with the third rank in the scale of nations. Their successive improvement and present superiority may be ascribed to a peculiar energy of character, to an active and imitative spirit, unknown to their more polished rivals, who at that time were in a stationary or retrograde state. With such a disposition, the Latins should have derived the most early and essential benefits from a series of events which opened to their eyes the prospect of the world, and introduced them to a long and frequent intercourse with the more cultivated regions of the East. Yet in a reign of sixty years the Latins of Constantinople disdained the speech and learning of their subjects; and the manuscripts were the only treasures which the natives might enjoy without rapine or envy. Aristotle was indeed the oracle of the Western universities, but it was a barbarous Aristotle; and, instead of ascending to the fountain head, his Latin votaries humbly accepted a corrupt and remote version from the Jews and Moors of Andalusia.

The principle of the Crusades was a savage fanaticism; and the most important effects were analogous to the cause. Each pilgrim was ambitious to return with his sacred spoils, the relics of Greece and Palestine; and each relic was preceded and followed by a train of miracles and visions. The belief of the Catholics was corrupted by new legends, their practice by new superstitions; and the establishment of the Inquisition, the mendicant orders of monks and friars, the last abuse of indulgences, and the final progress of idolatry flowed from the baleful fountain of the holy war. The active spirit of the Latins preyed on the vitals of their reason and religion; and if the ninth and tenth centuries were the times of darkness, the thirteenth and fourteenth were the age of absurdity and fable.

The lives and labours of millions, which were buried in the East, would have been more profitably employed in the improvement of their native country; the accumulated stock of industry and wealth would have overflowed in navigation and trade; and the Latins would have been enriched and enlightened by a pure and friendly correspondence with the climates of the East.

In one respect we can indeed perceive the accidental operation of the Crusades, not so much in producing a benefit as in removing an evil. The larger portion of the inhabitants of Europe was chained to the soil, without freedom, or property, or knowledge; and the two orders of ecclesiastics and nobles, whose numbers were comparatively small, alone deserved the name of citizens and men. Among the cause that undermined that Gothic edifice, a conspicuous place must be allowed to the Crusades. The estates of the barons were dissipated, and their race was often extinguished, in these costly and perilous expeditions. Their poverty extorted from their pride those charters of freedom which unlocked the fetters of the slave, secured the farm of the peasant and the shop of the artificer, and gradually restored a substance and a soul to the most numerous and useful part of the community. The conflagration, which destroyed the tall and barren trees of the forest, gave air and scope to the vegetation of the smaller and nutritive plants of the soil.d

FOOTNOTES

---

[481]

APPENDIX. FEUDALISM

To the average mind the term Middle Ages is a synonym for chaos. And, compared with the periods before and after, it is indeed chaos. But, in a sense, all human history is “without form,” even if not “void,” and the comparative simplicity which we see in certain periods is arrived at chiefly by a process of the cancellation of numberless confusing details and the concentration of the attention on certain large and picturesque personages or movements which were actually far from holding such stark and eminent importance in the eyes of contemporaries.

Thus in the case of Alexander’s conquest of that little segment of space which he called “the world,” to the contemporary Athenian, Alexander was almost a myth lost in the wilderness of the East as in a fog. The Athenian found his immediate troubles and triumphs in his own family, in his shop, in his deme. To myriads of other peoples, however, Alexander’s very existence was unknown; and splendid intrigues, superb politics, lofty feats of statecraft and of warfare were taking place far from the orbit of Alexander. These deeds were never chronicled, or the chronicles are lost, or perhaps only waiting discovery. Consequently we are ignorant of these confusing histories, and sum up in the exclusive phrase “Alexandrian epoch” a vast web of what were chaos, did we but know more of it.

But still, taking history as we have it, the Middle Ages torment and bewilder us with the variety and seeming unimportance of their events. They are called the Dark Ages, though, upon a closer look, they deserve the name no more than the Night herself with all her revelation of the stars which the Day absorbs in the one central splendour of the sun.

Let the name of Dark Ages stand, however, though it must not be forgotten that human history at least dreamed and walked in this apparent sleep. There is no lack of chronicle and no lack of action. Nor, in spite of the common idea, was there lack of progress. The barbarians had come down in avalanches of stolid clay upon the gardens of civilisation. During[482] the seeming idleness the seeds were at work and ideals were busily thrusting upward till of a sudden they burst forth in that springtime known as the Renaissance.

The history of each major country is given, in this work, its own chronicle, but for the better comprehension of the forces that were making possible the Renaissance and driving mankind to cry aloud for a betterment of conditions, it will be useful to set apart for brief consideration certain special phases and forces of Middle Age life. It will make it the easier to comprehend that life was by no means without the ferment of progress during that period which we so arbitrarily cleave out of history and put aside as the Middle Age.

Throughout the various histories of modern nations will be found a discussion of the multiform phases of feudalism. It is desirable, however, to give it some isolated discussion, though necessarily brief. A guide might be found in the words of Bryce, whose definition of feudalism also makes a good beginning; and in the words of the philosopher Hegel:a

BRYCE AND HEGEL ON FEUDALISM

“This is not the place for tracing the origin of feudality on Roman soil, nor for showing how, by a sort of contagion, it spread into Germany, how it struck firm root in the period of comparative quiet under Pepin and Charles, how from the hands of the latter it took the impress which determined its ultimate form, how the weakness of his successors allowed it to triumph everywhere. Still less would it be possible here to examine its social and moral influence. Politically it might be defined as the system which made the owner of a piece of land, whether large or small, the sovereign of those who dwelt thereon; an annexation of personal to territorial authority more familiar to eastern despotism than to the free races of primitive Europe. On this principle were founded, and by it are explained, feudal law and justice, feudal finance, feudal legislation, each tenant holding towards his lord the position which his own tenants held towards himself. And it is just because the relation was so uniform, the principle so comprehensive, the ruling class so firmly bound to its support, that feudalism has been able to lay upon society that grasp which the struggles of more than twenty generations have scarcely shaken off.”b

The three steps by which feudalism was reached are thus broadly summed up by Hegel:

“While the first period of the German world ends brilliantly with a mighty empire, the second is commenced by the reaction resulting from the antithesis occasioned by that infinite falsehood which rules the destinies of the Middle Ages and constitutes their life and spirit. This reaction is, first, that of the particular nationalities against the universal sovereignty of the Frankish Empire, manifesting itself in the splitting up of that great empire. The second reaction is that of individuals against legal authority and the executive power—against subordination, and the military and judicial arrangements of the constitution. This produced the isolation and therefore defencelessness of individuals. The universality of the power of the state disappeared through this reaction; individuals sought protection with the powerful, and the latter became oppressors. Thus was gradually introduced a condition of universal independence, and this protecting relation was then systematised into the feudal system.”c

[483]

COMMENCEMENT OF THE FEUDAL RÉGIME

The true heirs of Charlemagne were not the kings of France, nor those of Germany and Italy, at first, but rather the feudal lords. Not only had the empire been dismembered after the deposition of Charles the Fat, but its composing kingdoms and even its great fiefs as well. Dukes and counts had been quite as powerless as kings against the Northmen, Saxons, and Hungarians, and quite as unable to maintain the vast domains under their control. Populations whose leaders did not know how to bring them together for concerted action had acquired, little by little, the habit of depending upon themselves alone.

After having fled for a long time at the approach of the heathen to the woods among the wild beasts, some stout-hearted people had turned their heads and refused to abandon all their possessions without an attempt at defence. Here and there in mountain gorges, at river fords, on the hill overlooking the plain, entrenchments and walls were raised where the brave and the strong held out. An edict of 853 directed the counts and vassals of the king to repair their old castles and to build new ones. The country was soon covered with fortresses against which invaders flung themselves in vain. A few reverses quickly taught these bold adventurers prudence. They no longer dared to venture so far, to where these strongholds had sprung up from the ground on all sides, and the new invasion meeting with fresh obstacles and difficulties came to an end in the following century. It was not until afterwards that the masters of these castles became the terror of the countryside they had once helped to save.

Feudalism, so oppressive in its age of decline, had therefore its time of lawful and just existence. All power is raised up by its virtues and falls by its abuse.

But what was the new régime? We have seen the matter of acquiring and holding property become more uniform among barbarian nations, by the settlement of heredity upon lands ceded by the king, and the law’s sanction given to another kind of usurpation—the heredity of the royal offices. It was generally the owners of freehold property or of royal lands who became the holders of these offices, which brought about the union of sovereignty and proprietorship in the same hands. This is essentially what constitutes feudalism.

In the absolute monarchy of the Roman Empire public offices in all degrees of the hierarchy were bestowed directly by the ruler, and their disposition remained always in his power, so that he could take them back[484] when and under what condition he pleased. Furthermore the public official held neither the land of the province he governed nor the control of any particular piece of property that he might happen to own as a private citizen. He was bound therefore, as landlord, by the civil law applicable to the whole empire, and as governor, to the voluntary will of his sovereign. In the feudal régime it was exactly the opposite. The lord who enfeoffed, that is, conceded by title of sub-fief some portion of his own fief, gave up entirely to the grantee or vassal the property and its control, and it could not be taken back unless the vassal failed to perform some part of the agreement made at the time of receiving the investiture.

One lord might obtain land from another and thus become his vassal. The former had to go to the latter, and between the two there took place the ceremony known as homage. Kneeling before his future lord, with their hands together, the future vassal proclaimed loudly that he would be the other’s homme, or man, that is to say, that he would be attached and devoted to him, defend him with his own life, somewhat as the ancient leudes of Germany did towards their warrior chiefs. After this profession, which is homage in the original sense of the word, he took an oath of fidelity or faith to the lord, promising to fulfil the new duties required of him under the new title of homme of the lord. When he had contracted this double tie, the lord no longer feared to confide his land to a man so strongly bound to him, and gave it to him by investiture or seizin, accompanied with symbolic emblems—a sod of grass, a stone, or some other object according to the custom of the fief. “It is the custom,” says Otto von Freising,e “to deliver up kingdoms by the sword, and provinces by the standard.” This three-part ceremony of homage once completed, the reciprocal obligations began.

RECIPROCAL OBLIGATIONS OF VASSAL AND LORD

There were in the first place the moral obligations of the vassal towards his lord, such as keeping his secrets, revealing the machinations of his enemies, to give one’s horse to him in battle if he be unseated, to take his place in captivity, to respect and to cause his honour to be respected, to assist him with good counsel, etc. The material obligations, the services due from the vassal, were of several kinds.

(1) Military service. This was the very basis of the feudal relation and the principle of that state of society which does not contain permanent and organised armies. The vassal on the requisition of his lord was bound to follow him, either alone, or to bring such and such a number of men according to the importance of his fief. The duration of this service also was dependent on the same thing—it might be sixty, forty, or only twenty days—a system which did not permit of distant expeditions and could be employed only in neighbourhood or private wars. There were some fiefs where military service held only within the feudal domain, or could be called on only for purposes of defence.

(2) The “fiance,” or obligation to serve the lord in his court of justice. As under the feudal régime the lord replaced the states general, and was invested with the functions of public power, it was necessary in order to exercise these to hold at his command the forces disseminated through the hands of his vassals. War was one of these functions; justice was another.

The lord summonsed his men to court, and they had to attend, either to serve him with their advice or to take part in the judging of disputes[485] brought before him, and they thus bound themselves to assistance in carrying out the judgments their own mouths had proclaimed.

(3) The “aids,” some legal and compulsory, others courteous and voluntary. Legal aids were usually demanded under three conditions—when the lord was a prisoner and required to pay a ransom, when he knighted his eldest son, and when he gave his eldest daughter in marriage. This aid took the place of the public imposts of ancient and modern legislatures, but as may be seen was of a totally different character. It was not, in fact, periodic or exacted in a regular manner for public needs; it had the appearance of a voluntary gift under certain peculiar circumstances. An annual tax would have seemed an affront to the vassals.

To these services must be added certain feudal rights by which the lord, in virtue of his sovereignty, intervened in any important change the ceded fief might undergo. Some of these were for him a new source of revenue. These rights were the relief, a sum of money due from every major individual who entered into possession of a fief by right of succession, and more particularly if that succession did not take place in line of direct descent; the right to the alienation tax, which he who sold or alienated his fief in any fashion must pay; the right of disinheritance and confiscation by which the fief reverted to the lord when the vassal died without heirs or when he had forfeited his fief or deserved for any reason to be deprived of it; the right of guardianship, by virtue of which the lord, during the minority of his vassal, undertook his tutelage and the administration of his fief, and enjoyed its revenue; the marriage right, that is to say, the right of the overlord to provide a husband for the heiress of a fief, and oblige her to choose from the suitors he presents.

The vassal who fulfilled his obligations fully and conscientiously was as nearly as possible master of his own fief. He could in turn enfeoff the whole or part of his domain, and become in turn the sovereign lord of vassals of a lower rank, or vavasseurs, holding towards him the same obligations as he to his own lord. Such was the fabric of the hierarchy.

If the vassal had his obligations, the lord also had his. He could not take back a fief arbitrarily or without a legitimate reason from his vassal. He must protect him if he were attacked, see that he received justice, etc.

Let us note that the feudal system in developing itself made a fief of everything. Every concession—for hunting in the forests, for ferrying across rivers, for acting as guides on the roads, for escorting merchants, for running communal ovens in the towns—every useful employment, in fact, conceded in return for fidelity and homage, became a fief.

Lords multiplied concessions of this kind in order to multiply the number of men owing them military service. But the fief itself, to which the rights of justice were attached, remained in general undivided and was handed down according to the laws of primogeniture.

FEUDAL JUSTICE

The obligation of the vassals to attend the courts of their lord has made it clear that the principle of feudal justice was trial by one’s peers, a principle which was entirely in the customs and even the institutions of the Germanic peoples, where freedmen were tried by an assembly of freedmen.

They called peers (pares, equals), vassals of the same lord settled around him on his domain, and holding fiefs of the same rank. The king himself[486] had his peers who were those holding their estates directly from him, not only as feudal lord but as king. Each had the right to be judged by his peers before his lord. If the peers refused him justice or the vassal believed that it had been unfairly rendered, he made a complaint “in default of right,” and brought the matter to the attention of his lord’s suzerain. It was to this higher tribunal that it was necessary always to bring disputes which arose between a lord and his vassal.

But this right of appeal did not entirely satisfy the spirit of independence which animated this warlike society. The lords preserved with jealous care another right of appeal—that which is addressed to the power of arms; they preferred to obtain justice for themselves rather than receive it from the hands of others. So thoroughly was the custom enrooted in their manners that the king regulated the formalities which preceded this species of warfare and had for their object the warning of the party to be attacked and the giving of an opportunity to place himself in a state of defence. After all, our international wars proceed from the same principle and are no better. The lords waged their wars with their little armies as we with our greater ones. Only hostilities had a more individual character since the states were much smaller.i

Besides the Fehde or right of private warfare—an old Germanic custom—there was the “trial by combat,” which must not be confused with it. The true “judicial combat,” in which champions fight for a cause, or for the settlement of a quarrel, is a product of the Middle Ages, when faith in God was as strong as faith in the strength of the human arm. This custom became so universal a method of settlement of difficult questions that it was even used by Alfonso, the great Spanish lawgiver, to decide upon the introduction of new laws concerning inheritance. This much at least may be said in favour of it, that it was less of an evil than the torture which tended to supplant it in judicial proceedings in the later Middle Ages.a

Justice was not the prerogative of all the lords to the same extent. It was distinguished in France by three degrees, high, low, and middle justice. The first alone gave the right of life and death. In general it may be said it was the largest and most important fiefs that had powers of justice to the greatest extent. Still it was possible for a simple vavasseur to possess the functions of “high justice,” and in some places the lord who could dispense but “low justice” could punish with death the robber caught at his crime. Within these variable limits the lord alone dispensed justice on his fief, and when, later on, royalty usurped the right, there was a revolution.

To complete the enumeration of rights inherent in the sovereignty of the lords it is necessary to mention two: first, that of recognising throughout the whole extent of the fief no higher legislative power. We find in the last collection of laws made in the ninth century by Charles the Simple the final manifestation of law-bearing public power. After that, there were no laws, civil or political, to be applied generally, but only local customs, isolated, independent, and differing one from the other, in fact possessing a territorial character in distinction from those of the barbaric nations, which were entirely personal.

Second, the right to coin money, which was always a sign of lordship. Before Charlemagne it seems that some private individuals, who doubtless possessed the privilege, coined money. After him this was one of the prerogatives of the lords, and at the advent of Hugh Capet there were no less than 150 who exercised this right.

Every political régime may be characterised by the place where the exercise of power is bestowed. Ancient republics had their agora and fora.[487] The great monarchy of Louis XIV had its palace of Versailles. The feudal lords had their castles. They were, as a usual thing, enormous edifices, situated on high places, massive, round, or square, without architecture or ornamentation, the walls pierced by a few loopholes for the discharge of arrows. There was a single entrance giving on a great moat which could only be passed by a drawbridge. The castle was crowned with parapets and battlements, from which rocks, molten pitch, and lead could be thrown down on the heads of too venturesome assailants at the foot of the walls. To-day the gaping gray masses are but nests for crows, crumbled and eaten away by time. Seen from afar they quite eclipse the small and light habitation of modern days—these monuments at once of legitimate defence and oppression. But they could have been nothing less than they were to provide shelter from the northern incursions and the feudal wars. Everyone sought refuge in them. Those who had not the right to live within the castle, who were neither lords nor warriors, settled around its great walls, under their powerful protection. This was the nucleus of many towns.

ECCLESIASTICAL FEUDALISM

Even the clergy had their place in this system. The bishop, formerly “defender of the city,” had often become its count, by traditional usurpation or by express royal concession when the king had united the county and the bishopric, the temporal and the spiritual authority. This made the bishop sovereign of all the lords of his diocese.

Besides her tithes the church possessed, through the donation of the faithful, immense wealth, and in order to protect this from the brigandage of the times she had recourse to secular arms. She chose laymen, men of courage and wisdom, to whom she confided her property that they might defend it, if necessary at the point of the sword. But these attorneys of the monasteries and churches did as the counts of the king—made their functions hereditary, and took for themselves the wealth entrusted to their care. They condescended, however, to regard themselves as the vassals of those whom they had despoiled, and to swear faith and homage under ordinary conditions of natural right and personal service.

Abbés and bishops in consequence became suzerains, temporal lords having numerous vassals ready to take up arms for their cause, courts of justice—in fact all the prerogatives exercised by the great landlords. There were bishops, dukes, and bishop-counts, vassals themselves of greater lords and especially of the king, from whom they received the investiture of the property attached to their churches, or, as it was called, their temporal domain.

This ecclesiastical feudalism was so extensive, so powerful, that in France and England it possessed during the Middle Ages more than a fifth of all the land; in Germany nearly a third. For there was this difference between the church and king, that the latter, a conquest once made, received nothing more, but on the contrary constantly gave away until it came to pass that he possessed nothing but the town of Laon; while the church, if she did lose some of her land (a difficult thing since she had excommunication to defend it with), was acquiring more every day, since few of the faithful died without leaving her something. And so it was that she constantly got more and never or very rarely gave anything up, and then only when it was wrested from her by force.i

[488]

The manner in which the church often lost her property in feudal times is described by Carl Spannagel:

THE CHURCH AND THE FEUDAL ARMY

The bishops and abbots as land proprietors went into the battle-field at the head of their contingents. They often wore armour under their priestly garments, and they did not shrink from actual fighting in action. The care for souls (if such an expression can be used with regard to a priestly dignitary of the Middle Ages) which even in peace made but a slight demand upon them, must have nearly vanished under such circumstances in the field. The account of Bishop Daniel of Prague attending to the wounded and administering them spiritual comfort has a modern foreign tone about it. Only special royal permission could exempt the bishops and their respective abbots from appearing at the head of their men.

But the king did not make such frequent demands upon the participation of the spiritual dignitaries in campaigns as we are inclined to think. This idea arose from the command of Otto II in 981, which demanded the personal command of their contingents of seven bishops and the seven abbots, whilst twelve bishops and three abbots are told only to send their loricati to the emperor. Substitutes for the bishops and abbots in this case would be priests or vassals of rank of their diocese, or abbotship.

It is worthy of note that the immunity, the purport of which had so increased in extent since the Carlovingian time, exercised no influence on the military obligations of the churches to which it was addressed. In most of the immunity documents military duty is not touched upon, so it was considered something quite independent. In some it is expressly mentioned that no index publicus should exercise the arrière-ban over the particular cloister, but this made no change in the obligation of the abbots themselves. On the contrary, in a privilege of Otto I for the bishopric of Worms, the sentence from a document of Louis the Pious is retained which commands that the military followers of the men of the church are only to be called upon in the interest of the kingdom. The transfer of their service to the princes was of greater import to the military obligations of the church than the immunity.

Such transfers, however, only refer to monasteries and not also to bishoprics. There were two different kinds of exemption—either the king gives the cloister in question to a lord of his kingdom as a favour or as his property, so that (forever or for a time) it ceases to be a royal cloister, or he takes away a part of its landed property and makes it over to lay princes who thenceforward undertake the military duties hitherto pertaining to the cloister. By this means the cloister remains royal, only it is exempt from military obligations. A third possibility was added to these two. Very often the great lords did not wait for the king’s initiative to enrich themselves with church property, but they seized it on their own account and obtained possession of the longed-for cloister by any means.

With such measures by force there was certainly no legal adoption of the obligation which the cloister owed the kingdom. But there is no doubt that the property thus gained was taken into account in the valuation of the service due to the kingdom by the new owner. The documental protection of the king generally proved most inefficient against such seizures. In more ancient times, particularly under the later Carlovingians, we find taxations of abbotships. The cases became rarer later on without quite disappearing.[489] The kingdom evidently did not depend upon increasing the power of the princes which was continually developing by such means, so that the seizures of the princes increased with the feudal system.d

SERFS AND VILLEINS

In the eleventh century, Carlovingian Europe was divided into a multitude of fiefs which formed each its own state, having its own life, laws, customs, and its almost perfectly independent lay or ecclesiastical chief.

We have described the community of the lords, but they were not the only feudal community. That was the fighting and war-making community, the community that ruled, judged, punished, and oppressed. Below this was the community that worked, by which the other lived, got its clothes, its arms, its castles, and its bread—the community of serfs, or rather craftsmen (gens potestatis). We must not now look for free men, for they have disappeared. Some have raised themselves and become the fortunate lords; others have been pushed back into the lower regions of society and have become serfs and villeins. That class of simple freemen which had been nearly swept away in the invasion of the Roman Empire had been engulfed a second time. There were no longer any freehold owners, or so few that their mention is not worth while.

But the villeins were a numerous lot. The chief, the noble, had not only vassals but subjects residing on that portion of his estate that he never enfeoffed. And these were the serfs, properly called, men of the soil who were entirely at their lord’s disposal. “The lord,” says Beaumanoir,f “can take from them all that they have, put them in prison, rightly or wrongly, and as often as he pleases, and has no account to give of them except to God.”

In spite of this the condition of the serf was better than that of the slave of ancient times. The progress which slavery had made at the fall of the Roman Empire was not entirely lost in the wreckage of invasion, but appeared again in feudal society. The freeman of antiquity had been harder towards his slave than was the barbarian in whom the leaven of Christianity had produced some effect. The serf was recognised as a man having a family, sharing the common ancestry of his lord, and made in the image of God. Serfs finally entered the church, and sometimes mounted higher than the most powerful lords.

Above the serfs were the inalienables (mainmortables), “more kindly treated,” continues the old jurist of Beauvais,f “since the lord, if they did no wrong, could ask nothing of them except their dues and rents and the debts which they were accustomed to pay for their servitude.” But the inalienable could not marry without the consent of his lord, and if he took a free wife, or one outside the seigneury, there was a fine at the pleasure of the lord. This was the right of “formarriage” (a tax for marriage out of rank or condition), and the issue of such a marriage was divided between the lords of the husband and of the wife. If there was but one child, it went to the lord of the mother. At an inalienable’s death all his property went to his lord. For these people there was no way of escape from the hand that bent them to the furrow. Wherever they went the right of succession was attached to their persons and their purse. The lord inherited on every hand from his serfs.

In a higher degree still were to be found the free tenants known as villeins, peasants, or commoners. Their condition was less precarious. They had[490] preserved the freedom the serf did not possess, and had hung on to it at the sacrifice of an annual tax, a statute duty, and the rent of the land which the landlord had ceded them and which they could transmit with all their other property to their children. But while the beneficiary holdings or fiefs were under the protection of a public and well-defined law, the land of the villeins was under the absolute jurisdiction of the landlord and protected only by private agreements. This is why the villeins, and especially those in the country, where it was not necessary to oversee them as strictly as those in the large towns, were often under the heel of absolute dominion.

One reads in ancient documents about the lords: “They are masters of heaven and earth; they have jurisdiction above and beneath the ground, over necks and heads, over the water, winds, and fields.” The villeins could not escape their jurisdiction, for the feudal law said, “Between thee, lord, and thee, villein, there is no judge but God.” “We recognise from our gracious lords,” runs another formula, “both ban and convocation; the high forest, the bird in the air, the fish in the stream, the beast in the bush, as far as our sovereign lord, or the servants of his grace, can hold his own. For this our gracious lord will take under his shelter and protection the widow and orphan as well as the peasant.” Thus were all rights given over to the lord, but in exchange he protected the weak. Such is the principle of feudal society towards its subjects. Royalty no longer filled the office for which it was instituted; bishops, counts, barons, and other powers were called upon for the protection which could no longer be expected from the nominal head of the state.

Everything belonged to the lord; but since there was no industry or commerce, no luxury by which one alone could consume in a few moments the fruit of the labour of many, the exactions of this lord were not at first oppressive, and for the villeins these exactions were as systematically determined as are to-day the rights of the landlord over his farmer-tenants. Only in the Middle Ages was there always the element of arbitrariness and violence which modern law does not allow. The villeins’ tax was paid either in natural produce, as provisions, corn, cattle, and fowl, products of the soil and the farm; or in work, or manual labour, as statute labour in the fields and vineyards of the lord, in the building of his castle, or digging ditches, in the repair of roads; or the making of furniture, utensils, horseshoes, ploughshares, carts, etc. In towns and wherever money was scarce, the lord did not make the mistake, it must be understood, of demanding his dues in coin, or of imposing arbitrary taxes. But let us go back to the times themselves and listen to the words of a scribe: “The lord who demands unjust rights of his villein, does so at the peril of his soul.” If the fear of heaven did not suffice, here were the commoners coming to the rescue, and the king’s officials were not far behind.

There were some strange compensations to enliven the sad life of the feudal lord, shut up the whole year within the sombre walls of his castle. At Bologna, in Italy, the tenantry of the Benedictines of St. Procule paid as a tax the steam from a boiled capon. Every year each man brought his capon between two plates to the abbot, uncovered it, and, the steam having all been given off, was quits, and took his capon back with him. Elsewhere the peasants brought solemnly before their lord, in a carriage drawn by four horses, a little bird, or perhaps a may-bush decorated with ribbons. The man who owned a monkey was quits, according to an ordinance of St. Louis, when he had caused the monkey to perform before the lord’s tax-gatherer; the jongleur had to pay with one song. The lords themselves did not refuse,[491] sometimes, to play a rôle in these folk comedies. The markgraf of Jülich, whenever he made a solemn entry, was mounted on a one-eyed horse, with wooden saddle, and bridle of bark from the linden, and wearing two spires of hawthorn, and carrying a white stick. When the abbé of Figeac came into town the lord of Monbrun received him in a most grotesque costume with one leg bare.

Feudalism, bored with itself, laughed sometimes with the poor people, as did also the church when she authorised the celebration in the basilicas of the feast of the Asses. The powerful and the fortunate, in this age so sad and so stern, where misery was everywhere and security nowhere, owed much to their villeins and peasants for giving them some moments of forgetfulness and pleasure.

ANARCHY AND VIOLENCE; FRIGHTFUL CONDITION OF THE PEASANTS AND SOME HAPPY RESULTS THEREFROM

They were in truth hard times for the poor people, these Middle Ages, when in spite of all the formulæ and other conventions, the noble did not believe in anything but the right of the sword. In theory the principles of the feudal relation were very beautiful; in practise they nearly brought matters to a state of anarchy, for its judicial institutions were too defective to prevent the tie of vassalage from being constantly broken. Here lay the cause of the interminable wars which broke out in all parts of feudal Europe, and which were the great affliction of that epoch. Everyone could have recourse to his sword in a proven wrong or a sentence he deemed unjust, and a state of war was chronic in that society. Every hill became a fortress; every plain a field of battle.

Shut up in strong castles, covered with mail, and surrounded by armed men, the feudal lords, “the tyrants,” as a monk of the eleventh century calls them, lived but to fight, and knew no other mode of enrichment than pillage. There was no more commerce—the roads were no longer safe; no more industry, for the lords, masters of the towns, levied upon the burghers as soon as some little sign of wealth would appear. The most different customs were established everywhere, since there was no longer any general legislation, each noble having sole law-making power on his own fief.[83] Everywhere, likewise, there was the deepest ignorance except perhaps in the heart of some of the monasteries; and the clergy, guardians of moral law, were compelled not to forbid violence, but to regulate it by the “Truce of God” [Treuga Dei], which forbade killing and robbing from Wednesday evening to Monday morning.

On whom fell all the burden of these feudal wars? They were not very murderous for the nobles wrapped in steel, but they were so for the peasant with scarcely any defensive armour. At Brenneville, where the kings of France and England fought, nine hundred knights took part, and only three were left on the battle-field. At Bouvines, Philip Augustus was thrown from his horse and remained some time helpless amidst the foot-soldiers of the enemy. They vainly sought some opening in his armour through which to pass a dagger blade, and they dealt heavy blows which could not break his cuirass. His knights took their time about rescuing and replacing him in the saddle. After which he threw himself with them into the midst of[492] that rabble where their long lances and heavy axes did not deliver a single blow in vain. The sovereign captured, another calamity; his ransom must be paid. But who paid for the cottage and the burned fields of the poor peasant—who stanched his wounds, who provided for his widow and orphans?

Two contemporary writers, historians of the Crusades, paint thus these direful times: “Before the Christians left for the countries beyond the sea,” says Guibert de Nogent, “the kingdom of France was in the throes of constant trouble and hostilities. One heard nothing but of brigandage on the public roads. Fires were innumerable, and war was inflicted on every hand for no other reason than insatiable cupidity. In short, grasping men respected no right of property and gave themselves up to pillage with unrestrained boldness.”

And William, archbishop of Tyre,h says: “There was no security for property. Were a man regarded as rich, this was sufficient excuse for throwing him into prison, keeping him in irons, and putting him to cruel torture. Sword-girded brigands infested the roads, lay in ambush, and spared neither strangers nor men devoted to the service of God. Cities and fortified towns were not safe from such crimes. Cut-throats made the streets and squares dangerous for the wealthy man.” In the seventy years between 970 and 1040 there were forty of famine and pestilence.

However, the onward march of civilisation can never be so completely suspended that these centuries were absolutely sterile for the progress of humanity. In the church thought awakened, and in lay society poetry made its appearance. There was even some progress in morals, at least among the ruling classes. In the isolation in which each one lived, exposed to all sorts of perils, the soul fortified itself to meet them. The feeling of the dignity of man, which despotism managed to smother, was revived; and the society which spilled blood with such deplorable facility showed often a moral elevation which is to be found only in this age. The low vices and cowardice of the decadent Romans or enslaved peoples were unknown to them, and the Middle Ages have bequeathed to modern times the sentiment of honour. The feudal nobility knew how to die, which is the first condition of knowing how to get the most out of life.

Another beneficial consequence was the reorganisation of the family. In ancient cities the head of the family lived outside his house, in the fields or in the forum. He scarcely knew his wife and children, yet had over them the right of life and death. In primitive times the custom of polygamy and the facility for divorce prevented the family from establishing itself on any better basis. In feudal society men lived in isolation, and the head of the family was brought into close touch with it. When wars gave him leisure in his castle, perched like an eagle’s nest on the mountain top, he had nothing to occupy his life and his heart but his wife and children. The church, which brought rough soldiers to the feet of a virgin and made them for the sake of the mother of Christ respect female virtue, softened the temper of the warrior and prepared him to come under the spell of the finer feelings and more delicate sentiments with which nature had endowed the other sex.

Woman assumed, then, her place in the family and in society which the Mosaic law had once given her. Things went even further—she became the object of a cult which created new sentiments, which the poetry of troubadours and minstrels seized upon and which chivalry expressed in action. As in the beautiful legend of St. Christopher, the strong was conquered by the weak, the giant by the little child.

[493]

This is seen in an institution of the times. Robert d’Arbrissel founded near Saumur at Fontevrault, about the year 1100, an abbey which soon became famous, and which opened its gates to recluses of both sexes. The women were cloistered, and spent their time in prayer. The men worked in the fields, drained the marshes, cleared the land, and remained the perpetual servants of the women. The abbey was governed by an abbess, “because,” says the bull of confirmation, “Jesus Christ in dying gave his best beloved disciple to his mother for a son.”

Outside the family, the state was doubtless badly organised. It is necessary to call attention, in spite of all contradictory facts, to the political theory which this society represents. If the serf had no rights, the vassals had them, and well-defined ones too. The feudal tie was formed on conditions well known and accepted by him in advance; new conditions could not be placed upon him except by his own agreement. From these come those grand and strong maxims of common law which, in spite of a thousand violations, have come down to us—no tax can be imposed without the consent of the contributants; no law is valid unless accepted by those who must obey it; no sentence is legal unless declared by the peers of the accused. These are the laws of feudalism which the states general of 1789 buried under the débris of absolute monarchy; and in guarantee of these rights the vassal had the power of breaking the tie of vassalage by giving up his fief or of responding by war to a denial of justice from his lord. This right of armed resistance, which St. Louis himself recognised, led, it is true, to anarchy; it weakened the social structure, but it strengthened the individual. But it is with the individual that we must commence. Before intelligently building up the state, it is necessary to elevate the individual and the family; this double work was the task of the Middle Ages.

The church worked with energy to establish the sanctity of marriage, even for the serf; in preaching the equality of all men before God, which was a threat to the great inequalities of this world; by proclaiming by[494] the principle of election that she reserved for herself at the very pinnacle of hierarchy the rights of the intellect, in contradistinction to the feudal world which recognised but the right of blood; and in crowning with the triple crown and seating in the chair of St. Peter, where they had one foot on the neck of kings, a serf like Adrian II and the son of a poor carpenter, like Gregory VII.

GEOGRAPHIC OUTLINES OF THE KINGDOM OF GERMANY

Such were the principles that ruled in all the countries comprised within the limits of Charlemagne’s empire, that is to say, almost the whole of the Germanic peoples, France, Germany, Italy, and the north of Spain. The political geography of the countries formed itself after the fashion of its feudal organisations. As the fundamental axiom of feudalism expressed itself, “No territory without its lord,” there did not exist throughout the land a domain so small that it was not incorporated in some degree in the hierarchy. Of all these superimposed suzerainties, the royal was the only one whose limits served to determine the extent of the realms already formed but still very vaguely outlined.i

The difference between feudalism and the politics both of antiquity and of modern times lies, according to Paul von Roth,j chiefly in the absence of a state power. There was no proper monarchy; public offices are hereditary or belong to an estate. The impossibility of the permanence of feudalism is shown, he says, most clearly in the feudal army by which even feudal justice suffered. Von Roth draws a vivid comparison between France and Germany at the end of the tenth century: France is much the more feudal and anarchic under the powerless Hugh Capet; Germany is more centralised under monarchic power. He compares them again three centuries later: France is a consolidated monarchy; Germany weak with a lasting weakness. The cause he finds above all is this—that the French kings had vigorously and in every way worked for the uprooting of the feudal system.a

THE TRANSITION FROM FEUDALISM TO MONARCHY

The moral phenomena above mentioned, tending in the direction of a general principle, were partly of a subjective, partly of a speculative order. But we must now give particular attention to the practical political movements of the period. The advance which that period witnessed presents a negative aspect, in so far as it involves the termination of the sway of individual caprice and of the isolation of power. Its affirmative aspect is the rise of a supreme authority whose dominion embraces all—a political power properly so called, whose subjects enjoy an equality of rights, and in which the will of the individual is subordinated to that common interest which underlies the whole.

This is the advance from feudalism to monarchy. The principle of feudal sovereignty is the outward force of individuals—princes, liege lords; it is a force destitute of intrinsic right. The subjects of such a constitution are vassals of a superior prince or seigneur, towards whom they have stipulated duties to perform; but whether they perform these duties or not depends upon the seigneur’s being able to induce them so to do, by force of character or by grant of favours. Conversely, the recognition of those feudal claims themselves[495] was extorted by violence in the first instance; and the fulfilment of the corresponding duties could be secured only by the constant exercise of the power which was the sole basis of the claims in question. The monarchical principle also implies a supreme authority, but it is an authority over persons possessing no independent power to support their individual caprice, where we have no longer caprice opposed to caprice; for the supremacy implied in monarchy is essentially a power emanating from a political body, and is pledged to the furtherance of that equitable purpose on which the constitution of a state is based.

Feudal sovereignty is a polyarchy—we see nothing but lords and serfs; in monarchy, on the contrary, there is one lord and no serf, for servitude is abrogated by it, and in it right and law are recognised; it is the source of real freedom. Thus in monarchy the caprice of individuals is kept under, and a common gubernatorial interest established. But since this monarchy is developed from feudalism, it bears in the first instance the stamp of the system from which it sprang. Individuals quit their isolated capacity and become members of estates (or orders of the realm) and corporations; the vassals are powerful only by combination as an order; in contraposition to them the cities constitute powers in virtue of their communal existence. Thus the authority of the sovereign ceases to be mere arbitrary sway. The consent of the estates and corporations is essential to its maintenance; and if the prince wishes to have it, he must will what is reasonable.

We now see a constitution embracing various orders, while feudal rule knows no such orders. We observe the transition from feudalism to monarchy taking place in three ways: (1) Sometimes the lord paramount gains a mastery over his independent vassals, by subjugating their individual power, thus making himself sole ruler. (2) Sometimes the princes free themselves from the feudal relation altogether, and become the territorial lords of certain states; or lastly (3) the lord paramount unites the particular lordships that own him as their superior with his own particular suzerainty in a more peaceful way, and thus becomes master of the whole.

These processes do not indeed present themselves in history in that pure and abstract form in which they are exhibited here; often we find more modes than one appearing contemporaneously, but one or the other always predominates. The cardinal consideration is that the basis and essential condition of such a political formation is to be looked for in the particular nationalities in which it had its birth. Europe presents particular nations, constituting a unity in their very nature, and having the absolute tendency to form a state. All did not succeed in attaining this political unity; we have now to consider them severally in relation to the change thus introduced. First, as regards the Roman Empire, the connection between Germany and Italy naturally results from the idea of that empire: the secular dominion united with the spiritual was to constitute one whole; but this state of things was rather the object of constant struggle than one actually attained. In Germany and Italy the transition from the feudal condition to monarchy involved the entire abrogation of the former; the vassals became independent monarchs.

PROGRESS IN GERMANY

Germany had always embraced a great variety of stocks—Swabians, Bavarians, Franks, Thuringians, Saxons, Burgundians; to these must be added the Slavs of Bohemia, Germanised Slavs in Mecklenburg, in Brandenburg,[496] and in a part of Saxony and Austria; so that no such combination as took place in France was possible. Italy presented a similar state of things. The Lombards had established themselves there, while the Greeks still possessed the exarchate and lower Italy; the Normans too established a kingdom of their own in lower Italy, and the Saracens maintained their ground for a time in Sicily. When the rule of the house of Hohenstaufen was terminated, barbarism got the upper hand throughout Germany; the country being broken up into several sovereignties, in which a forceful despotism prevailed. It was the maxim of the electoral princes to raise only weak princes to the imperial throne; they even sold the imperial dignity to foreigners. Thus the unity of the state was virtually annulled.

A number of centres of power were formed, each of which was a predatory state; the legal constitution recognised by feudalism was dissolved, and gave place to undisguised violence and plunder; and powerful princes made themselves lords of the country. After the interregnum the count of Habsburg was elected emperor, and the house of Habsburg continued to fill the imperial throne with but little interruption. These emperors were obliged to create a force of their own, as the princes would not grant them an adequate power attached to the empire. But that state of absolute anarchy was at last put an end to by associations having general aims in view. In the cities themselves we see associations of a minor order; but now confederations of cities were formed with a common interest in the suppression of predatory violence. Of this kind was the Hanseatic League in the north, the Rhenish League consisting of cities lying along the Rhine, and the Swabian League. The aim of all these confederations was resistance to the feudal lords; and even princes united with the cities, with a view to the subversion of the feudal condition and the restoration of a peaceful state of things throughout the country.

What the state of society was under feudal sovereignty is evident from the notorious association formed for executing criminal justice; it was a private tribunal, which, under the name of the Vehmgericht, held secret sittings; its chief seat was the northwest of Germany. A peculiar peasant association was also formed. In Germany the peasants were bondmen; many of them took refuge in the towns, or settled down as freemen in the neighbourhood of the towns (Pfahlbürger); but in Switzerland a peasant fraternity was established. The peasants of Uri, Schwyz, and Unterwalden were under imperial governors; for the Swiss governments were not the[497] property of private possessors, but were official appointments of the empire. These the sovereigns of the Habsburg line wished to secure to their own house. The peasants, with club and iron-studded mace (Morgenstern), returned victorious from a contest with the haughty steel-clad nobles, armed with spear and sword, and practised in the chivalric encounters of the tournament.

INFLUENCE OF GUNPOWDER

Another invention also tended to deprive the nobility of the ascendency which they owed to their accoutrements—that of gunpowder. Humanity needed it, and it made its appearance forthwith. It was one of the chief instruments in freeing the world from the dominion of physical force and placing the various orders of society on a level. With the distinction between the weapons they used, vanished also that between lords and serfs. And before gunpowder, fortified places were no longer impregnable, so that strongholds and castles now lost their importance. We may indeed be led to lament the decay or the depreciation of the practical value of personal valour—the bravest, the noblest may be shot down by a cowardly wretch at safe distance in an obscure lurking-place; but, on the other hand, gunpowder has made a rational, considerate bravery, spiritual valour, the essential to martial success.

Only through this instrumentality could that superior order of valour be called forth—that valour in which the heat of personal feeling has no share; for the discharge of firearms is directed against a body of men—an abstract enemy, not individual combatants. The warrior goes to meet deadly peril calmly, sacrificing himself for the commonweal; and the valour of civilised nations is characterised by the very fact that it does not rely on the strong arm alone, but places its confidence essentially in the intelligence, the generalship, the character of its commanders, and, as was the case among the ancients, in a firm combination and unity of spirit on the part of the forces they command.

MONARCHISM IN ITALY

In Italy, as already noticed, we behold the same spectacle as in Germany—the attainment of an independent position by isolated centres of power. In that country, warfare in the hands of the condottieri became a regular[498] business. The towns were obliged to attend to their trading concerns, and therefore employed mercenary troops, whose leaders often became feudal lords; Francis Sforza even made himself duke of Milan. In Florence, the Medici, a family of merchants, rose to power. On the other hand, the larger cities of Italy reduced under their sway several smaller ones and many feudal chiefs. A papal territory was likewise formed. There, also, a very large number of feudal lords had made themselves independent; by degrees they all became subject to the one sovereignty of the pope.

How thoroughly equitable in the view of social morality such a subjugation was, is evident from Machiavelli’s celebrated work The Prince. This book has often been thrown aside in disgust, as replete with the maxims of the most revolting tyranny; but nothing worse can be urged against it than that the writer, having the profound consciousness of the necessity for the formation of a state, has here exhibited the principles on which alone states could be founded in the circumstances of the times. The chiefs who asserted an isolated independence, and the power they arrogated, must be entirely subdued; and though we cannot reconcile with our idea of freedom the means which he proposes as the only efficient ones, and regards as perfectly justifiable—inasmuch as they involve the most reckless violence, all kinds of deception, assassination, and so forth—we must nevertheless confess that the feudal nobility, whose power was to be subdued, were assailable in no other way, since an indomitable contempt for principle and an utter depravity of morals were thoroughly engrained in them.

IN FRANCE

In France we find the converse of that which occurred in Germany and Italy. For many centuries the kings of France possessed only a very small domain, so that many of their vassals were more powerful than themselves; but it was a great advantage to the royal dignity in France that the principle of hereditary monarchy was firmly established there. The consideration it enjoyed was increased by the circumstance that the corporations and cities had their rights and privileges confirmed by the king, and that the appeals to the supreme feudal tribunal—the court of peers, consisting of twelve members enjoying that dignity—became increasingly frequent. The king’s influence was extended by his affording that protection which only the throne could give. But that which essentially secured respect for royalty, even among the powerful vassals, was the increasing personal power of the sovereign. In various ways, by inheritance, by marriage, by force of arms, etc., the kings had come into possession of many earldoms (Grafschaften) and several duchies. The dukes of Normandy had, however, become kings of England; and thus a formidable power confronted France, whose interior lay open to it by way of Normandy. Besides this there were powerful duchies still remaining; nevertheless, the king was not a mere feudal suzerain (Lehnsherr) like the German emperors, but had become a territorial possessor (Landesherr); he had a number of barons and cities under him, that were subject to his immediate jurisdiction; and Louis IX succeeded in rendering appeals to the royal tribunal common throughout his kingdom.

The towns attained a position of greater importance in the state. For when the king needed money, and all his usual resources, such as taxes and forced contributions of all kinds, were exhausted, he made application to the[499] towns and entered into separate negotiations with them. It was Philip the Fair who, in the year 1302, first convoked the deputies of the towns as a third estate, in conjunction with the clergy and the barons. All indeed that they were in the first instance concerned with was the authority of the sovereign as the power that had convoked them, and the raising of taxes as the object of their convocation; the states nevertheless secured an importance and weight in the kingdom, and as a natural result, an influence on legislation also.

A fact which is particularly remarkable is the proclamation issued by the kings of France, giving permission to the bondsmen on the crown lands to purchase their freedom at a moderate price. In the way we have indicated the kings of France very soon attained great power; while the flourishing state of the poetic art in the hands of the troubadours, and the growth of the scholastic theology, whose especial centre was Paris, gave France a culture superior to that of the other European states, and which secured the respect of foreign nations.

IN ENGLAND

William the Conqueror, duke of Normandy, introduced the feudal system into England, and divided the kingdom into fiefs, which he granted almost exclusively to his Norman followers. He himself retained considerable crown possessions; the vassals were under obligation to perform service in the field, and to aid in administering justice; the king was the guardian of all vassals under age; they could not marry without his consent. Only by degrees did the barons and the towns attain a position of importance. It was especially in the disputes and struggles for the throne that they acquired considerable weight.

When the oppressive rule and fiscal exactions of the kings became intolerable, contentions and even war ensued; the barons compelled King John to swear to Magna Charta, the basis of English liberty, i.e., more particularly of the privileges of the nobility. Among the liberties thus secured, that which concerns the administration of justice was the chief; no Englishman was to be deprived of personal freedom, property, or life without the judicial verdict of his peers. Everyone, moreover, was to be entitled to the free disposition of his property. Further, the king was to impose no taxes without the consent of the archbishops, bishops, earls, and barons. The towns, also, favoured by the kings in opposition to the barons, soon elevated themselves into a third estate and to representation in the commons’ house of parliament. Yet the king was always very powerful, if he possessed strength of character: his crown estates procured for him due consideration; in later times, however, these were gradually alienated, given away, so that the king was reduced to apply for subsidies to the parliament.

We shall not pursue the minute and specifically historic details that concern the incorporation of principalities with states, or the dissensions and contests that accompanied such incorporations. We have only to add that the kings, when by weakening the feudal constitution they had attained a higher degree of power, began to use that power against each other in the undisguised interest of their own dominion. Thus France and England carried on wars with each other for a century. The kings were always endeavouring to make foreign conquests; the towns, which had the largest share of the burdens and expenses of such wars, were opposed to them, and in order to placate them the kings granted them important privileges.

[500]

THE PAPACY AND FEUDALISM

The popes endeavoured to make the disturbed state of society, to which each of these changes gave rise, an occasion for the intervention of their authority; but the interest of the growth of states was too firmly established to allow them to make their own interest of absolute authority valid against it. Princes and peoples were indifferent to papal clamour urging them to new crusades. The emperor Louis set to work to deduce from Aristotle, the Bible, and the Roman law a refutation of the assumptions of the papal see; and the electors declared at the diet held at Rense in 1338, and afterwards still more decidedly at the imperial diet held at Frankfort, that they would defend the liberties and hereditary rights of the empire, and that to make the choice of a Roman emperor or king valid, no papal confirmation was needed. So, at an earlier date, 1302, on occasion of a contest between Pope Boniface and Philip the Fair, the assembly of the states convoked by the latter had offered opposition to the pope. For states and communities had arrived at the consciousness of independent moral worth.

Various causes had united to weaken the papal authority; the great schism of the church, which led men to doubt the pope’s infallibility, gave occasion to the decisions of the councils of Constance and Bâle, which assumed an authority superior to that of the pope, and therefore deposed and appointed popes. The numerous attempts directed against the ecclesiastical system confirmed the necessity of a reformation. Arnold of Brescia, Wycliffe, and Huss met with sympathy in contending against the dogma of the papal vicegerency of Christ, and the gross abuses that disgraced the hierarchy. These attempts were, however, only partial in their scope. On the one hand the time was not yet ripe for a more comprehensive onslaught; on the other hand the assailants in question did not strike at the heart of the matter, but (especially the two latter) attacked the teaching of the church chiefly with the weapons of erudition, and consequently failed to excite a deep interest among the people at large.

HEGEL ON THE RISE OF MANKIND THROUGH FEUDALISM

But the ecclesiastical principle had a more dangerous foe in the incipient formation of political organisations than in the antagonists above referred to. A common object, an aim intrinsically possessed of perfect moral validity, presented itself to secularity in the formation of states; and to this aim of community the will, the desire, the caprice of the individual submitted itself. The hardness characteristic of the self-seeking quality of “heart,” maintaining its position of isolation—the knotty heart of oak underlying the national temperament of the Germans—was broken down and mellowed by the terrible discipline of the Middle Ages.

The two iron rods which were the instruments of this discipline were the church and serfdom. The church drove the “heart” (Gemüth) to desperation—made spirit pass through the severest bondage, so that the soul was no longer its own; but it did not degrade it to Hindu torpor, for Christianity is an intrinsically spiritual principle and, as such, has a boundless elasticity. In the same way serfdom, which made a man’s body not his own but the property of another, dragged humanity through all the barbarism of slavery and unbridled desire, and the latter was destroyed by its own violence.

[501]

It was not so much from slavery as through slavery that humanity was emancipated. For barbarism, lust, injustice constitute evil: man, bound fast in its fetters, is unfit for morality and religiousness; and it is from this intemperate and ungovernable state of volition that the discipline in question emancipated him. The church fought the battle with the violence of rude sensuality in a temper equally wild and terroristic with that of its antagonist; it prostrated the latter by dint of the terrors of hell, and held it in perpetual subjection, in order to break down the spirit of barbarism and to tame it into repose.

Theology declares that every man has this struggle to pass through, since he is by nature evil, and only by passing through a state of mental laceration arrives at the certainty of reconciliation. But granting this, it must on the other hand be maintained that the form of the contest is very much altered when the conditions of its commencement are different, and when that reconciliation has had an actual realisation. The path of torturous discipline is in that case dispensed with (it does indeed make its appearance at a later date, but in quite a different form), for the waking up of consciousness finds man surrounded by the elements of a moral state of society. The phase of negation is, indeed, a necessary element in human development, but it has now assumed the tranquil form of education, so that all the terrible characteristics of that inward struggle vanish.c

FOOTNOTES

---

[502]

BRIEF REFERENCE-LIST OF AUTHORITIES BY CHAPTERS

[The letter a is reserved for Editorial Matter.]

Chapter I. Origin of the Crusades

b J. F. Michaud, History of the Crusades.

c Charles Mills, History of the Crusades.

Chapter II. The First Crusade

b E. Gibbon, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

c Fr. Wilken, Geschichte der Kreuzzüge.

d J. F. Michaud, Bibliothèque des Croisades (including many Arab accounts).

e Victor Duruy, Histoire du Moyen Age.

Chapter III. The Second Crusade

b E. Gibbon, op. cit.

c Charles Mills, History of the Crusades.

d L. von Ranke, Weltgeschichte.

e “Imad ad-Din” and others in Michaud’s Bibliothèque des Croisades.

Chapter IV. The Third Crusade

b Charles Mills, op. cit.

c J. F. Michaud, op. cit.

d “Imad ad-Din” quoted in Michaud’s Bibliothèque des Croisades.

e Richard Devizes, Chronicle Concerning the Deeds of King Richard the First, King of England.

f Boha ad-Din, Life of Saladin.

g Geoffrey de Vinsauf, Itinerary of Richard I and others to the Holy Land.

h Roger of Hoveden, Historia post Bedam.

i Thomas Fuller, Holy War.

j Abulfeda, History of the Human Race.

k J. F. Michaud, Bibliothèque des Croisades.

Chapter V. The Fourth to the Sixth Crusades

b V. Duruy, op. cit.

c Charles Mills, op. cit.

d J. F. Michaud, op. cit.

e A. Jourdain, A Letter to Michaud on the Children’s Crusade.

f Fuller, op. cit.

g Geoffrey de Villehardouin, Conquête de Constantinople.

Chapter VI. The Last Crusades

b C. Mills, op. cit.

c Matthew of Paris, Historia Major.

d Fuller, op. cit.

e V. Duruy, op. cit.

f John de Joinville, Memoirs of Louis IX.

g Makrizi, The Book of Paths for the Knowledge of Kings.

Chapter VII. Consequences of the Crusades

b J. G. von Herder, Philosophy of the History of Man.

c C. Mills, op. cit.

d E. Gibbon, op. cit.

e Choiseul d’Aillecourt, De l’influence des Croisades.

Appendix. Feudalism

b James Bryce, The Holy Roman Empire.

c G. W. F. Hegel, Philosophy of History.

d Carl Spannagel, Zur Geschichte des Deutschen Heerwesens vom X bis zum XII Jahrhundert.

e Otto von Freising, Chronik.

f Philippe de Beaumanoir, Coutumes de Beauvaisis.

g Guibert de Nogent, Gesta Dei per Francos.

h William of Tyre, Historia belli sacri.

i V. Duruy, Histoire du Moyen Age.

j Paul von Roth, Feudalität und Unterthanenverband.

---

[503]

BOOK II. THE PAPACY

INTRODUCTION
HISTORY IN OUTLINE OF THE PAPACY

---

[519]

CHAPTER I. ORIGIN AND RISE OF THE PAPACY

Like almost all the great works of nature and of human power in the material world and in the world of man, the papacy grew up in silence and obscurity. The names of the earlier bishops of Rome are known only by barren lists, by spurious decrees and epistles inscribed, centuries later, with their names; by their collision with the teachers of heretical opinions, almost all of whom found their way to Rome; by martyrdoms ascribed with the same lavish reverence to those who lived under the mildest of the Roman emperors, as well as those under the most merciless persecutors. Yet the mythic or imaginative spirit of early Christianity has either respected, or was not tempted to indulge its creative fertility by the primitive annals of Rome. After the embellishment, if not the invention, of St. Peter’s pontificate, his conflict with Simon Magus in the presence of the emperor, and the circumstance of his martyrdom, it was content with raising the successive bishops to the rank of martyrs without any peculiar richness or fullness of legend.

The dimness and obscurity which veiled the growing church, no doubt threw its modest concealment over the person of the bishop. He was but one man, with no recognised function, in the vast and tumultuous population. He had his unmarked dwelling, perhaps in the distant Transteverine region, or in the then lowly and unfrequented Vatican. By the vulgar, he was beheld as a Jew, or as belonging to one of those countless eastern religions, which, from the commencement of the empire, had been flowing, each with its strange rites and mysteries, into Rome. The emperor, the imperial family, the court favourites, the military commanders, the consulars, the senators, the patricians by birth, wealth, or favour, the pontiffs, the great lawyers, even those who ministered to the public pleasures, the distinguished mimes or gladiators, when they appeared in the streets, commanded more public[520] attention than the Christian bishop, except when sought out for persecution by some politic or fanatic emperor. Slowly, and at long intervals, did the bishop of Rome emerge to dangerous eminence.

Christianity itself might seem, even from the first, to have disdained obscurity—to have sprung up or to have been forced into terrible notoriety in the Neronian persecution and the subsequent martyrdom of one at least, according to the vulgar tradition, of its two great apostles. What caprice of cruelty directed the attention of Nero to the Christians, and made him suppose them victims important enough to glut the popular indignation at the burning of Rome, it is impossible to determine. The cause and extent of the Domitian persecution is equally obscure. The son of Vespasian was not likely to be merciful to any connected with the fanatic Jews. Its known victims were of the imperial family, against whom some crime was necessary, and an accusation of Christianity served the end.

At the commencement of the second century, under Trajan, persecution against the Christians is raging in the East. That, however, was a local or rather Asiatic persecution, arising out of the vigilant and not groundless apprehension of the sullen and brooding preparation for insurrection among the whole Jewish race (with whom Roman terror and hatred still confounded the Christians), which broke out in the bloody massacres of Cyrene and Cyprus, and in the final rebellion during the reign of Hadrian, under Barchochebas (Bar Koziba). But while Ignatius, bishop of Antioch, is carried to Rome to suffer martyrdom, the Roman community is in peace, and not without influence. Ignatius entreats his Roman brethren not to interfere with injurious kindness between himself and his glorious death.

The wealth of the Roman community, and their lavish Christian use of their wealth, by contributing to the wants of foreign churches, at all periods, especially in times of danger and disaster (an ancient usage which lasted till the time of Eusebius), testifies at once to their flourishing condition, to their constant communication with more distant parts of the empire, and thus incidentally, perhaps, to the class, the middle or mercantile class, which formed the greater part of the believers.

But the history of Latin Christianity has not begun. For some considerable (it cannot but be an undefinable) part of the first three centuries, the church of Rome, and most, if not all the churches of the West, were, if we may so speak, Greek religious colonies. Their language was Greek, their organisation Greek, their writers Greek, their Scriptures Greek; and many vestiges and traditions show that their ritual, their liturgy, was Greek. Through Greek the communication of the churches of Rome and of the West was constantly kept up with the East; and through Greek every heresiarch, or his disciples, having found his way to Rome, propagated with more or less success his peculiar doctrines. Pope Leo I (440-461) was the first celebrated Latin preacher, and his brief and emphatic sermons read like the first essays of a rude and untried eloquence, rather than the finished compositions which would imply a long study and cultivation of pulpit oratory. Compare them with Chrysostom.

Africa, not Rome, gave birth to Latin Christianity. Tertullian was the first Latin writer, at least the first who commanded the public ear; and there is strong ground for supposing that, since Tertullian quotes the sacred writings perpetually and copiously, the earliest of those many Latin versions, noticed by Augustine, and on which Jerome grounded his Vulgate, were African. Cyprian kept up the tradition of ecclesiastical Latin. Arnobius, too, was an African.

[521]

Thus the Roman church was but one of the confederation of Greek religious republics, founded by Christianity. As of apostolic origin, still more as the church of the capital of the world, it was, of course, of paramount dignity and importance. It is difficult to exaggerate the height at which Rome, before the foundation of Constantinople, stood above the other cities of the earth; the centre of commerce, the centre of affairs, the centre of empire. The Christians, like the rest of mankind, were constantly ebbing and flowing out of Rome and into Rome. The church of the capital could not but assume something of the dignity of the capital; it was constantly receiving, as it were, the homage of all the foreign Christians, who, from interest, business, ambition, curiosity, either visited or took up their residence in the Eternal City.

But if Rome, or the church of Rome, was thus the centre of the more peaceful influences of Christianity, and of the hopes and fears of the Christian world, it was no less inevitably the chosen battle-field of her civil wars; and Christianity has ever more faithfully recorded her dissensions than her conquests. In Rome every feud which distracted the infant community reached its height; nowhere do the judaising tenets seem to have been more obstinate, or to have held so long and stubborn a conflict with more full and genuine Christianity. In Rome every heresy, almost every heresiarch, found welcome reception. All new opinions, all attempts to harmonise Christianity with the tenets of the Greek philosophers, with the oriental religions, the cosmogonies, the theophanies, and mysteries of the East, were boldly agitated, either by the authors of the gnostic systems or by their disciples. Valentinus the Alexandrian was himself in Rome, so also was Marcion of Sinope. The Phrygian Montanus, with his prophetesses, Priscilla and Maximilla, if not present, had their sect, a powerful sect, in Rome and in Africa. In Rome their convert, for a time at least, was the pope; in Africa, Tertullian. Somewhat later, the precursors of the great Trinitarian controversy came from all quarters. Praxeas, an Asiatic; Theodotus, a Byzantine; Artemon, an Asiatic; Noetus, a Smyrniote, at least his disciples the deacon Epigenes and Cleomenes, taught at Rome. Sabellius, from Ptolemais in Cyrene, appeared in person; his opinions took their full development in Rome. Not only do all these controversies betray the inexhaustible fertility of the Greek or eastern imagination, not only were they all drawn from Greek or oriental doctrines, but they must have been still agitated, discussed, ramified into their parts and divisions, through the versatile and subtile Greek. They were all strangers and foreigners; not one of all these systems originated in Rome, in Italy, or in Africa. On all these opinions the bishop of Rome was almost compelled to sit in judgment; he must receive or reject, authorise or condemn; he was a proselyte, whom it would be the ambition of all to gain.

Thus, down to the conversion of Constantine, the biography of the Roman bishops, and the history of the Roman episcopate, are one; the acts and peculiar character of the pontiffs, the influence and fortunes of the see, excepting in the doubtful and occasional gleams of light which have brought out Victor, Zephyrinus, Calixtus, Cornelius, Stephen, into more distinct personality, are involved in a dim and vague twilight. On the establishment of Christianity, as the religion if not of the empire, of the emperor, the bishop of Rome rises at once to the rank of a great accredited functionary; the bishops gradually, though still slowly, assume the life of individual character. The bishop is the first Christian in the first city of the world, and that city is legally Christian. The supreme pontificate of heathenism might still[522] linger from ancient usage among the numerous titles of the emperor; but so long as Constantine was in Rome, the bishop of Rome, the head of the emperor’s religion, became in public estimation the equal, in authority and influence immeasurably the superior, to all of sacerdotal rank. The schisms and factions of Christianity now become affairs of state. As long as Rome is the imperial residence, an appeal to the emperor is an appeal to the bishop of Rome. It was the slow and imperceptible accumulation of wealth, the unmarked ascent to power and sovereignty, which enabled the papacy to endure for centuries.

The obscurity of the bishops of Rome was not in this alone their strength. The earlier pontiffs (Clement is hardly an exception) were men who of themselves commanded no great authority, and awoke no jealousy. Rome had no Origen, no Athanasius, no Ambrose, no Augustine, no Jerome. The power of the hierarchy was established by other master-minds; by the Carthaginian Cyprian, by the Italian Ambrose, the prelate of political weight as well as of austere piety, by the eloquent Chrysostom. The names of none of the popes, down to Leo and Gregory the Great, appear among the distinguished writers of Christendom. This more cautious and retired dignity was no less favourable to their earlier power, than to their later claim of infallibility. If more stirring and ambitious men, they might have betrayed to the civil power the secret of their aspiring hopes; if they had been voluminous writers, in the more speculative times, before the Christian creed had assumed its definite and coherent form, it might have been more difficult to assert their unimpeachable orthodoxy.

The removal of the seat of empire to Constantinople consummated the separation of Greek and Latin Christianity; one took the dominion of the East, the other of the West. Greek Christianity has now another centre in the new capital; and the new capital has entered into those close relations with the great cities of the East, which had before belonged exclusively to Rome. Alexandria has become the granary of Constantinople; her Christianity and her commerce, instead of floating along the Mediterranean to Italy, pour up the Ægean to the city on the Bosporus. The Syrian capitals, Antioch, Jerusalem, the cities of Asia Minor and Bithynia, Ephesus, Nicæa, Nicomedia, own another mistress. The tide of Greek trade has ebbed away from the West, and found a nearer mart; political and religious ambition and adventure crowd to the new eastern court. That court becomes the chosen scene of Christian controversy; the emperor is the proselyte to gain whom contending parties employ argument, influence, intrigue.

That which was begun by the foundation of Constantinople, was completed by the partition of the empire between the sons of Constantine. There are now two Roman worlds, a Greek, and a Latin. In one respect, Rome lost in dignity, she was no longer the sole metropolis of the empire; the East no longer treated her with the deference of a subject. On the other hand, she was the uncontested, unrivalled head of her own hemisphere; she had no rival in those provinces, which yet held her allegiance, either as to civil or religious supremacy. The separation of the empire was not more complete between the sons of Constantine or Theodosius, than between Greek and Latin Christianity.b

The advance of Christianity involved an emancipation of religion from all political elements, and this was inevitably followed by the establishment of a distinct ecclesiastical body, with a constitution peculiar to itself. In this separation of the church from the state consists, perhaps, the most important and most effectually influential peculiarity of Christian times.[523] The spiritual and temporal powers may come into close contact—they may remain in the most intimate communion; but a perfect coalition can only take place occasionally, and for short periods of time. In their reciprocal relations and position with regard to each other, has since then been involved one of the most important questions presented by all history.

It was nevertheless imperative on the ecclesiastical body to form their constitution on the model of that of the empire; and accordingly the hierarchy of the bishops, metropolitan patriarchs, was formed in close correspondence with the degradations of the civil power. No long time had elapsed before the bishops of Rome acquired the supremacy. It is, indeed, a vain pretence to assert that this supremacy was universally acknowledged by East and West, even in the first century, or, indeed, at any time; but it is equally certain that they quickly gained a pre-eminence, raising them far above all other ecclesiastical dignitaries. Many causes concurred to secure them this position; for if the relative importance of each provincial capital secured to its bishop a corresponding weight and dignity, how much more certainly would this result take place as regarded the ancient capital of the empire—that city whence the whole had derived its name? Rome was, besides, one of the most illustrious seats of the apostles; here had the greater number of the martyrs shed their blood. The bishops of Rome had displayed the most undaunted firmness throughout the different persecutions, and had sometimes been scarcely installed in their sacred office before they followed their predecessor in the path of that martyrdom by which his seat had been vacated. In addition to all this, the emperors now found it advisable to favour the advancement of a great patriarchal authority. In a law that became decisive for the predominance of Rome as well as of Christianity, Theodosius the Great commands that all nations claiming the protection of his grace should receive the faith as propounded by St. Peter to the Romans. Valentinian also forbade the bishops, whether of Gaul or of other provinces, to depart from the received customs of the church without the sanction of that venerable man, the pope of the Holy City. Thenceforth the power of the Roman bishops advanced beneath the protection of the emperor himself. But in this political[524] connection lay also a restrictive force; had there been but one emperor, a universal primacy might also have established itself; but this was prevented by the partition of the empire. The emperors of the East were too eagerly tenacious of their ecclesiastical rights to make it possible that they should promote the extension of power desired by the western patriarchs in their dominions. In this respect also the constitution of the church presents the closest resemblance to that of the empire.

THE PAPACY IN CONNECTION WITH THE FRANKISH EMPIRE

Scarcely was this great change completed, the Christian religion established, and the church founded, when new events of great importance took place; the Roman Empire, so long conquering and paramount, was now to see itself assailed by its neighbours; in its turn it was invaded and overcome.

Amidst the general convulsion that ensued, Christianity itself received a violent shock. In their terror, the Romans bethought themselves once more of the Etruscan mysteries, the Athenians hoped to be saved by Achilles and Minerva, the Carthaginians offered prayers to the genius Cœlestis; but these were only temporary waverings, for even whilst the empire was shattered in the western provinces, the church remained firm and undisturbed throughout all. But she fell, as was inevitable, into many embarrassments, and found herself in an entirely altered condition. A pagan people took possession of Britain; Arian kings seized the greater part of the remaining West; while the Lombards, long attached to Arianism, and as neighbours most dangerous and hostile, established a powerful sovereignty before the very gates of Rome.

The Roman bishops meanwhile, beset on all sides, exerted themselves with all the prudence and pertinacity which have remained their peculiar attributes to regain the mastery—at least in their ancient patriarchal diocese; but a new and still heavier calamity now assailed them. The Arabs—not conquerors merely, as were the Germans, but men inspired even to fanaticism by an arrogant and dogmatising creed, in direct opposition to the Christian faith—now poured themselves over the West as they had previously done over the East. After repeated attacks, they gained possession of Africa; one battle made them masters of Spain, their general Musa boasting that he would march into Italy by the passes of the Pyrenees and across the Alps, and cause the name of Mohammed to be proclaimed from the Vatican.

This position was all the more perilous for the western portion of Roman Christendom, from the fact that the iconoclastic dissensions were at that time raging with the most deadly animosity on both sides. The emperor of Constantinople had adopted the opposite party to that favoured by the pope of Rome; nay, the life of the latter was more than once in danger from the emperor’s machinations. The Lombards did not fail to perceive the advantages derivable to themselves from these dissensions; their king Aistulf took possession of provinces that till then had always acknowledged the dominion of the emperor, and again advancing towards Rome, he summoned that city also to surrender, demanding payment of tribute with vehement threats.

The Roman see was at this moment in no condition to help itself, even against the Lombards, still less could it hope to contend with the Arabs, who were beginning to extend their sovereignty over the Mediterranean, and were threatening all Christendom with a war of extermination.

[525]

But now the faith was no longer confined within the limits of the Roman Empire. Christianity, in accordance with its original destiny, had long overpassed these limits; more especially had it taken deep root among the German tribes of the West; nay, a Christian power had already arisen among these tribes, and towards this the pope had but to stretch forth his hands, when he was sure to find the most effectual succour and earnest allies against all his enemies.

Among all the Germanic nations, the Franks alone had become Catholic from their first rise in the provinces of the Roman Empire. This acknowledgment of the Roman see had secured important advantages to the Frankish nation. In the Catholic subjects of their Arian enemies, the western Goths and Burgundians, the Franks found natural allies. We read so much of the miracles by which Clovis was favoured—how St. Martin showed him the ford over the Vienne by means of a hind, how St. Hilary preceded his armies in a column of fire—that we shall not greatly err if we conclude these legends to shadow forth the material succours afforded by the natives to those who shared their creed, and for whom, according to Gregory of Tours,i they desired victory “with eager inclination.” But this attachment to Catholicism, thus confirmed from the beginning by consequences so important, was afterwards renewed and powerfully strengthened by a very peculiar influence arising from a totally different quarter.

It chanced that certain Anglo-Saxons, being exposed for sale in the slave market of Rome, attracted the attention of Pope Gregory the Great; he at once resolved that Christianity should be preached to the nation whence these beautiful captives had been taken. Never, perhaps, was resolution adopted by any pope whence results more important ensued; together with the doctrines of Christianity, a veneration for Rome and for the holy see, such as had never before existed in any nation, found place among the Germanic Britons. The Anglo-Saxons began to make pilgrimages to Rome; they sent their youth thither to be educated, and King Offa established the tax called “St. Peter’s penny” for the relief of pilgrims and the education of the clergy. The higher orders proceeded to Rome, in the hope that, dying there, a more ready acceptance would be accorded to them by the saints in heaven. The Anglo-Saxons appear to have transferred to Rome and the Christian saints the old Teutonic superstition, by which the gods were described as nearer to some spots of earth than to others, and more readily to be propitiated in places thus favoured.

But besides all this, results of higher importance still ensued when the Anglo-Saxons transplanted their modes of thought to the mainland, and imbued the whole empire of the Franks with their own opinion. Boniface (originally Winfrid or Winfrith), the apostle of the Germans, was an Anglo-Saxon; this missionary, largely sharing in the veneration professed by his nation for St. Peter and his successors, had from the beginning voluntarily pledged himself to abide faithfully by all the regulations of the Roman see; to this promise he most religiously adhered. On all the German churches founded by him was imposed an extraordinary obligation to obedience. Every bishop was required expressly to promise that his whole life should be passed in unlimited obedience to the Romish church, to St. Peter and his representative. Nor did he confine this rule to the Germans only. The Gallican bishops had hitherto maintained a certain independence of Rome; Boniface, who had more than once presided in their synods, availed himself of these occasions to impress his own views on this western portion of the Frankish church; thenceforward the Gallic archbishops received their[526] pallium from Rome, and thus did the devoted submission of the Anglo-Saxons extend itself over the whole realm of the Franks.

The empire had now become the central point for all the German tribes of the West. The fact that the reigning family, the Merovingian race, had brought about its own destruction by its murderous atrocities had not affected the strength of the empire. Another family, that of Pepin of Heristal, had risen to supreme power—men of great energy, exalted force of character, and indomitable vigour. While other realms were sinking together into one common ruin, and the world seemed about to become the prey of the Moslem, it was this race, the house of Pepin of Heristal, afterwards called the Carlovingian, by which the first and effectual resistance was offered to the Mohammedan conquerors.

The religious development then in progress was also equally favoured by the house of Pepin; we find it early maintaining the best understanding with Rome, and it was under the special protection of Charles Martel and Pepin le Bref that Boniface proceeded in his apostolic labours. Let us consider the temporal condition of the papal power. On the one side the East Roman Empire, weakened, fallen into ruin, incapable of supporting Christendom against Islamism, or of defending its own domains in Italy against the Lombards, yet continuing to claim supremacy even in spiritual affairs. On the other hand, we have the German nations full of the most vigorous life; victorious over the Moslem, attached with all the fresh ardour and trusting enthusiasm of youth to that authority of whose protecting and restricting influences they still felt the need, and filled with an unlimited and most freely rendered devotion.

Already Gregory II perceived the advantages he had gained; full of a proud self-consciousness, he writes thus to that iconoclast emperor, Leo the Isaurian: “All the lands of the West have their eyes directed towards our humility; by them are we considered as a God upon earth.” His successors became ever more and more impressed with the conviction that it was needful to separate themselves from a power (that of the Roman Empire) by which many duties were imposed on them, but which could offer them no protection in return. They could not safely permit a succession to the mere name and empire to fetter them, but turned themselves rather towards those from whom help and aid might also be expected. Thus they entered into strict alliance with those great captains of the West, the Frankish monarchs; this became closer and closer from year to year, procured important advantages to both parties, and eventually exercised the most active influence on the destinies of the world.c

With the division of the empire in the year 395, the question of the Roman precedence of Constantinople was left for a time in abeyance; but in the West the authority of the bishop of Rome became more and more firmly established. In the following century the general conditions under which he was called upon to act became so materially modified as to constitute a new period in the history of our subject.

The characters of the men who filled the papal chair during this century, most of them of exemplary life, some of commanding genius, would alone suffice to constitute it a memorable era. “Upon the mind of Innocent I,” says Milman,b “seems first distinctly to have dawned the vast conception of Rome’s universal ecclesiastical supremacy.” Innocent I (402-417) seems indeed to have been the first of the popes who ventured to repudiate those political conceptions which threatened to circumscribe the extending influence of his office. Innocent was succeeded by Zosimus (417-418) and[527] Boniface (418-422). The former, whose pontificate lasted only twenty-one months, exhibits a noteworthy exception to the traditions of his see, in the disposition he at one time showed to temporise with Pelagianism, and even to set aside in its favour the decrees of his predecessor. The pontificate of Boniface is notable as having been preceded by a contested election which afforded the emperor Honorius an opportunity for the exercise of his intervention, thereby establishing a precedent for imperial interference on like occasions. At the instance of Boniface himself, Honorius enacted an ordinance designed to avert the scandals incident to such contests. By the new provisions, all canvassing for the vacant chair was strictly prohibited; in the event of a disputed election both candidates were to be deemed ineligible. The successor of Boniface was Celestine I (422-432). The evidence afforded by the events of his pontificate is somewhat conflicting in character. On the one hand, we find the churches of Africa putting forward their latest recorded protest against the Roman pretensions, adducing the sixth canon of the Council of Nicæa in support of their protest; on the other hand, the success with which Celestine intervened in Illyricum, and again in connection with the sees of Narbonne and Vienne, proves that the papal jurisdiction was being accepted with increasing deference in other parts of the empire.

Barbaric invasion, although resulting in the overthrow of many of the institutions of civilisation, and in widespread suffering and social deterioration, served but to enhance the influence and importance of the Roman see. The apparent fulfilment of prophecy, pagan as well as Christian, when the city was taken and sacked by Alaric (410), seemed to complete the effacement of the temporal power in Rome. Neither the western emperors nor the Gothic conquerors held their court in the ancient capital, where the pope was now at once the most important and conspicuous authority. In the African provinces, the demoralisation occasioned by the fierce controversies and dissensions concerning Pelagianism and Donatism compelled the Catholic communities to exchange their former attitude of haughty independence for one of suppliant appeal, and to solicit the intervention and counsel which they had before rejected. Such was the aspect of affairs in the West when Leo the Great (440-461), by some regarded as the true founder of the mediæval popedom, succeeded to the primacy. A citizen of Rome by birth, he exemplified in his own character many of the ancient Roman virtues—a tenacious adherence to tradition in matters of religious belief, an indomitable resolution in the assertion of the prerogatives of his office, and the austere practice of the recognised duties of social life. This rigid maintenance of orthodoxy had been instilled into him (or at least confirmed) by the exhortations of Augustine, with whom he had become personally acquainted when on a mission to the African province; and before his election to the papal office the celebrated Cassian had conceived so high an opinion of his virtues and abilities as to dedicate to him his treatise on the Incarnation. Regarded, indeed, simply as the able antagonist of the Manichæan and Eutychian heresies, and as the first author of the collect, Leo would fill no unimportant place in the annals of Latin Christendom; but his influence on church history in other respects is of a far deeper and more potent kind. In none was it followed by more important results than by the success with which he established the theory that all bishops who, in questions of importance, demurred to the decision of their metropolitan should be entitled to appeal to Rome. He obtained the recognition of this principle not only in Illyricum, as his predecessor Innocent had done, but also in Gaul; and the[528] circumstances under which he did so in the latter province constitute the whole proceedings a memorable episode in church history.

The chief obstacle to the recognition of the supremacy of the Roman pontiff was now to be found in the revival of Arianism, which, professed alike by the Goth and the Vandal, represented the dominant faith in the chief cities of northern Italy, as well as in Africa, Spain, and southern Gaul. But the rivalry thus generated only increased the disposition of the Catholic party to exalt the prerogatives of their head, and the attitude of Rome towards other churches continued to be more and more one of unquestionable superiority. In the year 483 Pope Felix II (or III)[84] ventured upon an unprecedented measure in citing Acacius, the patriarch of Constantinople, to Rome, to answer certain allegations preferred against him by John, patriarch of Alexandria, whom he designated as “frater et coepiscopus noster” (Thiel,j Epistolæ, p. 239). On Acacius’ refusing to recognise the legality of the letter of citation, he was excommunicated by Felix. The successor of Felix, Gelasius I (492-496), refused to notify, as was customary, his election to the patriarch of Constantinople, and by his refusal implicitly put forward a fresh assumption, viz., that communion with Rome implied subjection to Rome. Throughout the pontificate of Gelasius the primacy of the Roman see was the burden of his numerous letters to other churches, and he appears also to have been the first of the pontiffs to enunciate the view that the authority which he represented was not controllable by the canons of synods, whether past or present. In Italy these assumptions were unhesitatingly accepted. The Palmary synod, as it was termed, convened in Rome during the pontificate of Symmachus (498-514), formally disavowed its own right to sit in judgment on his administrative acts. Ennodius, bishop of Pavia, (circa 510), declared that the Roman pontiff was to be judged by God alone, and was not amenable to any earthly potentate or tribunal. It is thus evident that the doctrine of papal infallibility, though not yet formulated, was already virtually recognised.

During the Gothic rule in Italy (493-553), its representatives manifested the utmost tolerance in relation to religious questions, and showed little disposition to impose any restraints on the policy of the popes, although each monarch, by virtue of his title of “king of the Romans,” claimed the right to veto any election to the papal chair. In the year 483, when Odoacer sent his first lieutenant, Basilius, from Ravenna to Rome, the latter was invested with the titles eminentissimus and sublimis. The pope accordingly appeared as politically the subject of his Arian overlord. The advantage thus gained by the temporal power appears to have been the result of its intervention, which Simplicius (468-483) had himself solicited, in the elections to the papal office, and one of the principal acts of the Palmary synod (above referred to) was to repudiate the chief measures of Basilius, which had been especially directed against the abuses that prevailed on such occasions, and more particularly against bribery by alienation of the church lands. The assertion of this authority on the part of the civil power was declared by the synod to be irregular and uncanonical, and was accordingly set aside as not binding on the church. The fierce contests and shameless bribery which now accompanied almost every election were felt, however, to be so grave a scandal that the synod itself deemed it expedient to adopt the ordinance issued by Basilius, and to issue it as one of its own enactments. In order more effectually to guard against such abuses, Boniface II, in the year 530, obtained from a[529] synod specially convened for the purpose the power of appointing his own successor, and nominated one Vigilius—the same who ten years later actually succeeded to the office. But a second synod, having decided that such a concession was contrary to the traditions of episcopal succession, annulled the grant, and Boniface himself committed the former decree to the flames. At his death, however, the recurrence of the old abuses in a yet more flagrant form induced the senate to obtain from the court of Ravenna a measure[530] of reform of a more comprehensive character, and designed to check not only the simoniacal practices within the church itself, but also the extortion of the court officials.

In the year 526 Dionysius Exiguus, a monk in Rome, undertook the labour of preparing a new collection of the canons of the councils, and, finding his production favourably received, proceeded also to compile a like collection of the papal letters or decretals, from the earliest extant down to those of Anastasius II in his own day. The letters of the popes were thus placed on a level with the rescripts of the emperors, and in conjunction with the canons formed the basis of the canon law, which afterwards assumed such importance in connection with the history of the church. The negative value of the collection formed by Dionysius may be said, however, almost to equal that of its actual contents; for, from the simple fact that it does not contain those yet earlier decretals subsequently put forth by the pseudo-Isidorus, it affords the most convincing disproof of their genuineness.

The substitution of the rule of the Greek emperors for that of the Gothic monarchs was inimical in almost every respect to the independence and reputation of the popedom. For a short interval before Justinian landed in Italy, Agapetus (535-536), appearing as the emissary of Theodotus to the Eastern court, assumed a bearing which inspired the emperor himself with respect, and his influence was sufficiently potent to procure the deposition of one patriarch of the Eastern capital and to decide the election of another. But, after Belisarius entered Rome and the city had been reduced to subjection, the pontiff was seen to be the mere vassal of the emperor, and not only of the emperor but of the courtesan on the imperial throne. The deposition of Silverius (536-540), and his mysterious fate at Pandataria, together with the elevation of Vigilius (540-555), the nominee of the abandoned Theodora and her pliant slave, completed the degradation of the Roman see. Each successive pope was now little more than a puppet which moved at the pleasure of the Eastern court, and the apocrisiarius or deputy whom he maintained at that court was generally (as in the case of Pelagius I, Gregory I, Sabinian, Boniface III, Martin) his own successor—an honour purchased, it can hardly be doubted, by systematic compliance with the imperial wishes. In the career and fate of Vigilius the papal office was dishonoured as it had never been before, at once by the signal unworthiness of its bearer and by the indignities heaped upon him by the savage malice of his foes. So sinister, indeed, had become the relations between the Roman bishop and the eastern court that Pelagius I (555-560) is said to have besought Narses to send him to prison rather than to Constantinople.

In the year 568 the Lombards invaded Italy. Like the Goths they became converts to Arianism; but they were also far less civilised, and looked with little respect on Roman institutions and Roman habits of thought, while their arrogance, faithlessness, and cruelty gained for them the special detestation of the Roman see. Their conquests did not extend over all Italy. Ravenna and the Pentapolis, Venice, Rome, and its duchy (as the surrounding district was then termed), Naples, Calabria, and Sicily, remained subject to the empire. In the peninsula the pope was, after the exarch of Ravenna, the most powerful potentate, and the presence of a common foe caused the relations between himself and the empire to assume a more amicable character. The emperor, indeed, continued to control the elections and to enforce the payment of tribute for the territory protected by the imperial arms; but on the other hand the pontiff exercised a definite authority with the Roman duchy and claimed to have a voice in the appointment of[531] the civil officers who administered the local government. From the time of Constantine the Great the church had possessed the right of acquiring landed property by bequests, and the Roman see had thus become greatly enriched. Some of its possessions lay far beyond the confines of Italy.f

GREGORY THE GREAT (590-604 A.D.)

The papal monarchy thus rose insensibly upon the episcopal aristocracy. From the first, the word of the successor of St. Peter as bishop of the Eternal City had a high degree of authority. The title of “pope,” attributed in theory to every bishop, was finally reserved for him of Rome alone, a change already manifest under Leo the Great, but not completely brought about until the time of Gregory VII. The bishop of Rome had possessed since the days of the Roman Empire valuable property in the capital and throughout Italy. He had even acquired some across the Alps, for example, in the province of Arles, where he charged the bishop of that city with administering it. Besides this he occupied in Rome itself, that is to say in the most famous city in the world, that great estate which had been assigned to the bishops by the municipal régime in the last days of the empire.

St. Leo (440-461) gave much prestige to his office by the great rôle he played in public affairs and his successful intercession with Attila. He obtained from Valentinian III a decree in which the emperor invited “the entire church to recognise its head in order that peace might forever be preserved”; and at the same period we see him restoring a Gallican bishop to the see from which he had been driven, and transferring the metropolitan seat from Arles to Vienne.

Under the Ostrogoths the church of Rome, treated elsewhere with leniency, could make no progress. But when their power had fallen (553) and Rome came once more under the authority of the emperor of Constantinople, the great distance of her new master opened up a brighter future. The Lombard invasion brought into the church’s territory a large number of refugees, and the Roman population recovered some of its old energy in the double hatred for barbarians and Arians. As for the exarch whom the eastern emperor had charged with the government of his Italian provinces and invested with direct authority over the dukes and military counts of Naples, Rome, Genoa, etc., this official could scarcely make his authority felt in the western half of Italy, relegated as he was to Ravenna, and separated from Rome by the Lombard dominion which included Spoleto.

It was at this juncture favourable, though dangerous in some respects, that Gregory I appeared (590-604). Descended from the noble Anicia family, Gregory added to distinction of birth every advantage of body and mind. While under thirty he was prefect of Rome, but at the end of several months he abandoned honours and thoughts of worldly things, and sought the retirement of the cloister. But his reputation did not permit him the obscurity he desired. Sent to Constantinople about 570 as secretary and later as apocrisiary (a sort of grand almoner) by Pope Pelagius II, he rendered valuable service to the holy see in its relations with the empire and in its struggles with the Lombards. In 590 the clergy, the senate, and the people raised him with one voice to the supreme pontificate, as successor to Pelagius; but as all elections had to be confirmed by the emperor at Constantinople, Gregory wrote in supplication that his might not be sanctioned. The letter was intercepted, and Maurice’s orders of ratification soon arrived. Gregory hid; he was discovered and brought back to Rome.

[532]

Pope in spite of himself, he used all his talent and power to fortify the papacy,[85] propagate Christianity, and improve the discipline and organisation of the church. Although he pleaded that the episcopacy, and especially his own, “was the office of a shepherd of souls and not of a temporal prince,” he did not neglect the temporal power of the holy see. It happened, since the emperor was so little in touch with Italian affairs, that the soldiers charged with defending Rome against the Lombards had received no pay. Gregory paid them, took upon himself the work of defence, and armed the clerics. When Agilulf, whose aggression had provoked these preparations, was compelled to withdraw, Gregory treated with him in the name of Rome, in spite of protests from the exarch.

Feeling thus strengthened in his position, he undertook to propagate Christianity and orthodoxy both within and without the limits of the ancient Roman Empire. Within its boundaries there were still some pagans in Sicily, Sardinia, even at Terracina (Tarracina) at the very gates of Rome, and doubtless also in some parts of Gaul, since there exists a decree of Childebert’s dated 554, with the title For the Abolition of the Remainder of Idolatry. There were Arians very close to Rome, the Lombards. By the intervention of Queen Theudelinda, Gregory succeeded in having the heir to the Lombard throne, Adalwald, raised in Catholicism. Since 587 the Visigoths in Spain under Recared had been converted.

As for Great Britain, it was still entirely pagan, and Gregory sent thither the monk Augustine and forty Roman missionaries (596). They landed on the island of Thanet, and going from there sought Ethelbert, king of Kent, who permitted them to preach their doctrines at Canterbury. From this point Christianity spread rapidly towards the north and west, until by 627 it was firmly established in Northumberland. St. Augustine, archbishop of Canterbury, had been named primate of England by Gregory the Great, with whom he kept up a constant correspondence that is still in existence.

Ireland, “the isle of saints,” had already been converted, and now monks were leaving it to win over the barbarians. At this period St. Columban, the monk who denounced Brunehild’s crimes with such boldness, set out to preach the Gospel to the mountaineers of Helvetia, and founded in their midst abbeys surrounded by fertile fields. After him St. Rupert travelled far into Bavaria and established the diocese of Salzburg.

[533]

Thus Christianity spread its spirit of proselytism, and St. Gregory fostered it greatly by the mild precepts he inculcated in his missionaries, and the skill with which he facilitated the transition from pagan to Catholic. He wrote to St. Augustine: “You must take care not to destroy the pagans’ temples, but only their idols; use holy water in washing out the edifice, build altars and deposit relics in them. If their temples are well built, so much the better; for it is important that these same ones pass from the cult of demons to that of the true God. When the nation sees its ancient places of worship remain, it will be more disposed to visit them through habit and to worship the true God.”

At home Gregory laboured with success to co-ordinate the powers of the church, in making recognised above everything that of the holy see. We find him bestowing the title of vicar of the Gauls upon the bishop of Arles, to correspond with Augustine archbishop of Canterbury, with the archbishop of Seville for Spain, and him of Thessalonica for Greece; and finally sending secret legates to Constantinople. In his pastoral which he wrote on the occasion of his election, and which became a general regulation throughout the West, he prescribed the bishops their duties according to the decision of several councils. To bind the hierarchy together he sought to prevent the encroachments of one bishop upon another. “I have given you Britain to direct spiritually,” he wrote to the ambitious Augustine, “and not Gaul.” He favoured the monasteries, looked with vigilance after their discipline, and reformed church singing, substituting for the Ambrosian chant, “which,” according to a contemporary, “was like the distant sound of a chariot rolling over the stones,” that Gregorian chant which bears his own name.d

The darkest stain on the name of Gregory is his cruel and unchristian triumph in the fall of the emperor Maurice—his base and adulatory praise of Phocas, the most odious and sanguinary tyrant who had ever seized the throne of Constantinople. It is the worst homage to religion to vindicate or even to excuse the crimes of religious men; and the apologetic palliation, or even the extenuation of their misdeeds rarely succeeds in removing, often strengthens, the unfavourable impression.

Gregory was spared the pain and shame of witnessing the utter falsehood of his pious vaticinations as to the glorious and holy reign of Phocas. In the second year of the tyrant’s reign he closed the thirteen important years of his pontificate. The ungrateful Romans paid but tardy honours to his memory. His death (March 10th, 604) was followed by a famine, which the starving multitude attributed to his wasteful dilapidation of the patrimony of the church—that patrimony which had been so carefully administered and so religiously devoted to their use. Nothing can give a baser notion of their degradation than their actions. They proceeded to wreak their vengeance on the library of Gregory, and were only deterred from their barbarous ravages by the interposition of Peter the faithful archdeacon. Peter had been interlocutor of Gregory in the wild legends contained in the Dialogues.k The archdeacon now assured the populace of Rome that he had often seen the Holy Ghost in the visible shape of a dove hovering over the head of Gregory as he wrote. Gregory’s successor therefore hesitated, and demanded that Peter should confirm his pious fiction or fancy by an oath. He ascended the pulpit, but before he had concluded his solemn oath he fell dead. That which to a hostile audience might have been a manifest judgment against perjury, was received as a divine testimony to his truth. The Roman church has constantly permitted Gregory to be represented with the Holy Ghost, as a dove, floating over his head.

[534]

The historian of Christianity is arrested by certain characters and certain epochs, which stand as landmarks between the close of one age of religion and the commencement of another. Such a character is Gregory the Great; such an epoch his pontificate, the termination of the sixth century. Gregory, not from his station alone, but by the acknowledgment of the admiring world, was intellectually, as well as spiritually, the great model of his age. He was proficient in all the arts and sciences cultivated at that time; the vast volumes of his writings show his indefatigable powers; their popularity and their authority, his ability to clothe those thoughts and those reasonings in language which would awaken and command the general mind.

His epoch was that of the final Christianisation of the world, not in outward worship alone, not in its establishment as the imperial religion, the rise of the church upon the ruin of the temple, and the recognition of the hierarchy as an indispensable rank in the social system, but in its full possession of the whole mind of man, in letters, arts as far as arts were cultivated, habits, usages, modes of thought, and in popular superstition.

Not only was heathenism, but, excepting in the laws and municipal institutions, Romanity itself absolutely extinct. The reign of Theodoric had been an attempt to fuse together Roman, Teutonic, and Christian usages. Cassiodorus, though half a monk, aspired to be a Roman statesman, Boethius to be a heathen philosopher. The influence of the Roman schools of rhetoric is betrayed even in the writers of Gaul, such as Sidonius Apollinaris; there is an attempt to preserve some lingering cadence of Roman poetry in the Christian versifiers of that age. At the close of the sixth century all this has expired; ecclesiastical Latin is the only language of letters, or rather letters themselves are become purely ecclesiastical. The fable of Gregory’s destruction of the Palatine library is now rejected as injurious to his fame; but probably the Palatine library, if it existed, would have been so utterly neglected that Gregory would hardly have condescended to fear its influence. His aversion to such studies is not that of dread or hatred, but of religious contempt; profane letters are a disgrace to a Christian bishop; the truly religious spirit would loathe them of itself.

What, then, was this Christianity by which Gregory ruled the world? Not merely the speculative and dogmatic theology, but the popular, vital, active Christianity, which was working in the heart of man; the dominant motive of his actions, as far as they were affected by religion; the principal element of his hopes and fears as regards the invisible world and that future life which had now become part of his conscious belief.

Christian Mythology

The history of Christianity cannot be understood without pausing at stated periods to survey the progress and development of this Christian mythology, which, gradually growing up and springing as it did from natural and universal instincts, took a more perfect and systematic form, and at length, at the height of the Middle Ages, was as much a part of Latin Christianity as the primal truths of the Gospel. This growth, which had long before begun, had reached a kind of adolescence in the age of Gregory, to expand into full maturity during succeeding ages. Already the creeds of the church formed but a small portion of Christian belief. The highest and most speculative questions of theology, especially in Alexandria and Constantinople, had become watchwords of strife and faction, had stirred the[535] passions of the lowest orders; the two natures, or the single or double will in Christ, had agitated the workshop of the artisan and the seats in the circus. Christ assumed gradually more and more of the awfulness, the immateriality, the incomprehensibleness, of the Deity, and men sought out beings more akin to themselves, more open, it might seem, to human sympathies. Believers delighted in those ceremonials to which they might have recourse with less timidity; the shrines and the relics of martyrs might deign to receive the homage of those who were too profane to tread the holier ground. Already the worship of these lower objects of homage begins to intercept that to the higher; the popular mind is filling with images either not suggested at all, or suggested but very dimly by the sacred writings; legends of saints are supplanting, or rivalling at least, in their general respect and attention, the narratives of the Bible.

Of all these forms of worship, the most captivating, and captivating to the most amiable weaknesses of the human mind, was the devotion to the Virgin Mary. The worship of the Virgin had first arisen in the East; and this worship, already more than initiate, contributed, no doubt, to the passionate violence with which the Nestorian controversy was agitated, while that controversy, with its favourable issue to those who might seem most zealous for the Virgin’s glory, gave a strong impulse to the worship. The denial of the title “the mother of God,” by Nestorius, was that which sounded most offensive to the general ear; it was the intelligible odious point in his heresy. The worship of the Virgin now appears in the East as an integral part of Christianity. Among Justinian’s splendid edifices arose many churches dedicated to the mother of God. The feast of the Annunciation is already celebrated under Justin and Justinian. Heraclius has images of the Virgin on his masts when he sails to Constantinople to overthrow Phocas. Before the end of the century the Virgin is become the tutelar deity of Constantinople, which is saved by her intercession from the Saracens.

WORSHIP OF THE VIRGIN

In the time of Gregory the worship of the Virgin had not assumed that rank in Latin Christianity to which it rose in later centuries, though that second great impulse towards this worship, the unbounded admiration of virginity, had full possession of his monastic mind. With Gregory celibacy was the perfection of human nature; he looked with abhorrence on the contamination of the holy sacerdotal character, even in its lowest degree, by any sexual connection. No subdeacon, after a certain period, was to be admitted without a vow of chastity; no married subdeacon to be promoted to a higher rank. In one of his expositions he sadly relates the fall of one of his aunts, a consecrated virgin; she had been guilty of the sin of marriage. Of all his grievances against the exarch of Ravenna, none seems more worthy of complaint than that he had encouraged certain nuns to throw off their religious habits and to marry. Gregory does not seem to have waged this war against nature, however his sentiments were congenial with those of his age, with his wonted success.[86] His letters are full of appeals to sovereigns and to bishops to repress the incontinence of the clergy; even monasteries were not absolutely safe.

[536]

ANGELS AND DEVILS

It was not around the monastery alone, the centre of this preternatural agency, that the ordinary providence of God gave place to a perpetual interposition of miraculous power. Every Christian was environed with a world of invisible beings, who were constantly putting off their spiritual nature and assuming forms, uttering tones, distilling odours, apprehensible by the soul of man, or taking absolute and conscious possession of his inward being. A distinction was drawn between the pure, spiritual, illimitable, incomprehensible nature of the Godhead, and the thin and subtile but bodily forms of angels and archangels. These were perceptible to the human senses, wore the human form, spoke with human language; their substance was the thin air, the impalpable fire; it resembled the souls of men, but yet, whenever they pleased, it was visible, performed the functions of life, communicated not with the mind and soul only but with the eye and ear of man.

The hearing and the sight of religious terror were far more quick and sensitive. The angelic visitations were but rare and occasional; the more active demons were ever on the watch, seizing and making every opportunity of beguiling their easy victims. They were everywhere present, and everywhere betraying their presence. They ventured into the holiest places; they were hardly awed by the most devout saints; but, at the same time there was no being too humble, to whose seduction they would not condescend—nothing in ordinary life so trivial and insignificant but that they would stoop to employ it for their evil purposes. They were without the man, terrifying him with mysterious sounds and unaccountable sights. They were within him, compelling all his faculties to do their bidding, another indwelling will besides his own, compelling his reluctant soul to perform their service. Every passion, every vice, had its especial demon; lust, impiety, blasphemy, vainglory, pride were not the man himself, but a foreign power working within him. The slightest act, sometimes no act at all, surrendered the soul to the irresistible indwelling agent. In Gregory’s Dialoguesk a woman eats a lettuce without making the sign of the cross; she is possessed by a devil, who had been swallowed in the unexorcised lettuce. Another woman is possessed for admitting her husband’s embraces the night before the dedication of an oratory.

MARTYRS AND RELICS

Happily there existed, and existed almost at the command of the clergy, a counterworking power to this fatal diabolic influence, in the perpetual presence of the saints, more especially in hallowed places, and about their own relics. These relics were the treasure with which the clergy, above all the bishops of Rome, who possessed those of St. Peter and St. Paul with countless others, ruled the mind; for by these they controlled and kept in awe, they repaired the evils wrought by this whole world of evil spirits. Happy were the churches, monasteries, whose foundations were hallowed and secured by these sacred talismans. To doubt their presence in these dedicated shrines, in the scenes of their martyrdom, obstinately to require the satisfaction of the senses as to their presence, was an impious want of faith; belief, in proportion to the doubtfulness of the miracle, was the more meritorious. Kings and queens bowed in awe before the possessors and dispensers of these wonder-working treasures.

[537]

Relics had now attained a self-defensive power; profane hands which touched them withered; and men who endeavoured to remove them were struck dead. Such was the declaration of Gregory himself, to one who had petitioned for the head or some part of the body of St. Paul. It was an awful thing even to approach to worship them. Men who had merely touched the bones of St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. Lawrence, though with the pious design of changing their position or placing the scattered bones together, had fallen dead, in one case to the number of ten. The utmost that the church of Rome could bestow would be a cloth which had been permitted to touch them; and even such cloths had been known to bleed. If, indeed, the chains of St. Paul would yield any of their precious iron to the file, which they often refused to do, this, he writes, he would transmit to the empress; and he consoles her for the smallness of the gift by the miraculous power which it will inherently possess.

Gregory doled out such gifts with pious parsimony. A nail which contained the minutest filings from the chains of St. Peter was an inestimable present to a patrician, or an ex-consul, or a barbaric king. Sometimes they were inserted in a small cross; in one instance with fragments of the gridiron on which St. Lawrence was roasted. One of the golden nails of the chains of St. Peter had tempted the avarice of a profane, no doubt a heathen or Arian, Lombard; he took out his knife to sever it off; the awe-struck knife sprang up and cut his sacrilegious throat. The Lombard king Authari and his attendants were witnesses of the miracle, and stood in terror, not daring to lift the fearful nail from the ground. A Catholic was fortunately found, by whom the nail permitted itself to be touched; and this peerless gift, so avouched, Gregory sends to a distinguished civil officer.

SANCTITY OF THE CLERGY

That sanctity which thus dwelt in the relics of the saints, was naturally gathered, as far as possible, around their own persons by the clergy, hallowed as they were and set apart by their ordination from the common race of man; and if the hierarchy had only wielded this power for self-protection, if they had but arrayed themselves in this defensive awe against the insults and cruelties of barbarians, such as the Lombards are described, it would be stern censure which would condemn even manifest imposture. We might excuse the embellishment, even the invention of the noble story of the bishop Sanctulus, who offered his life for that of a captive deacon, before whom the Lombard executioner, when he lifted up his sword to behead him, felt his arm stiffen, and could not move it till he had solemnly sworn never to raise that sword against the life of a Christian. But this conservative respect for the sanctity of their order darkens too frequently into pride and inhumanity; the awful inviolability of their persons becomes a jealous resentment against even unintentional irreverence. A demoniac accused the holy bishop Fortunatus of refusing him the rights of hospitality; a poor peasant receives the possessed into his house, and is punished for this inferential disrespect to the bishop by seeing his child cast into the fire and burned before his eyes. A poor fellow with a monkey and cymbals is struck dead for unintentionally interrupting a bishop Boniface in prayer.

The sacred edifices, the churches, especially, approachable to all, were yet approachable not without profound awe; in them met everything which could deepen that awe; within were the relics of the tutelar saint, the[538] mysteries, and the presence of the Redeemer, of God himself; beneath were the remains of the faithful dead.

Burial in churches had now begun; it was a special privilege. Gregory dwells on the advantage of being thus constantly suggested to the prayers of friends and relatives for the repose of the soul. But that which was a blessing to the holy was but more perilous to the unabsolved and the wicked. The sacred soil refused to receive them; the martyrs appeared and commanded the fetid corpses to be cast out of their precincts. They were seized by devils, who did not fear to carry off their own even from those holy places. But oblations were still effective after death. The consecrated host has begun to possess in itself wonder-working powers. A child is cast forth from his grave, and is only persuaded to rest in quiet by a piece of the consecrated bread being placed upon his breast. Two noble women, who had been excommunicated for talking scandal, were nevertheless buried in the church; but every time the mass was offered, their spirits were seen to rise from their tombs and glide out of the church. It was only after an oblation had been “immolated” for them that they slept in peace.

STATE AFTER DEATH

The mystery of the state after death began to cease to be a mystery. The subtile and invisible soul gradually materialised itself to the keen sight of the devout. A hermit declared that he had seen Theodoric, the Ostrogothic king, at the instant of death, with loose garments and sandals, led between Symmachus the patrician and John the pope, and plunged into the burning crater of Lipari. Benedict, while waking, beheld a bright and dazzling light, in which he distinctly saw the soul of Germanus, bishop of Capua, ascend to heaven in an orb of fire, borne by angels.

Hell was by no means the inexorable dwelling which restored not its inhabitants. Men were transported thither for a short time, and returned to reveal its secrets to the shuddering world. Gregory’s fourth book is entirely filled with legends of departing and of departed spirits, several of which revisit the light of day. On the locality of hell Gregory is modest, and declines to make any peremptory decision. On purgatory, too, he is dubious, though his final conclusion appears to be that there is a purgatorial fire which may purify the soul from very slight sins. Some centuries must elapse before those awful realms have formed themselves into that dreary and regular topography which Dante partly created out of his own sublime imagination, partly combined from all the accumulated legends.

The most singular of these earlier journeys into the future world are the adventures of a certain Stephen, the first part of which Gregory declares he had heard more than once from his own mouth, and which he relates, apparently intending to be implicitly believed. Stephen had to all appearance died in Constantinople, but, as the embalmer could not be found, he was left unburied the whole night. During that time he went down into hell, where he saw many things which he had not before believed. But when he came before the Judge, the Judge said, “I did not send for this man, but for Stephen the smith.” Gregory’s friend Stephen was too happy to get back, and on his return found his neighbour Stephen the smith dead. But Stephen learned not wisdom from his escape. He died of the plague in Rome, and with him appeared to die a soldier, who returned to reveal more of these fearful secrets of the other world, and the fate of Stephen. The soldier[539] passed a bridge, beneath it flowed a river, from which rose vapours, dark, dismal, and noisome. Beyond the bridge (the imagination could but go back to the old Elysian fields) spread beautiful, flowery, and fragrant meadows, peopled by spirits clothed in white. In these were many mansions, vast and full of light. Above all rose a palace of golden bricks; to whom it belonged he could not read. On the bridge he recognised Stephen, whose foot slipped as he endeavoured to pass. His lower limbs were immediately seized by frightful forms, who strove to drag him to the fetid dwellings below. But white and beautiful beings caught his arms, and there was a long struggle. The soldier did not see the issue of the conflict.

Such were among the stories avouched by the highest ecclesiastical authority, and commended it might seem by the uninquiring faith of the ruling intellect of his age—such among the first elements of that universal popular religion which was the Christianity of ages. This religion gradually moulded together all which arose out of the natural instincts of man, the undying reminiscences of all the older religions, the Jewish, the pagan, and the Teutonic, with the few and indistinct glimpses of the invisible world and the future state of being in the New Testament, into a vast system, more sublime perhaps for its indefiniteness, which, being necessary in that condition of mankind, could not but grow up out of the kindled imagination and religious faith of Christendom. And such religion the historian who should presume to condemn as a vast plan of fraud, or a philosopher who should venture to disdain as a fabric of folly only deserving to be forgotten, would be equally unjust, equally blind to its real uses, assuredly ignorant of its importance and its significance in the history of man. For on this, the popular Christianity, turns the whole history of man for centuries.

It is at once the cause and the consequence of the sacerdotal dominion over mankind; the groundwork of authority at which the world trembled; which founded and overthrew kingdoms, bound together or set in antagonistic array nations, classes, ranks, orders of society. Of this, the parent, when the time arrived, of poetry, of art, the Christian historian must watch the growth and mark the gradations by which it gathered into itself the whole activity of the human mind, and quickened that activity till at length the mind outgrew that which had been so long almost its sole occupation. It endured till faith, with the schoolmen, led into the fathomless depths of metaphysics, began to aspire after higher truths; with the reformers, attempting to refine religion to its primary spiritual simplicity, gradually dropped, or left but to the humblest and most ignorant, at least to the more imaginative and less practical part of mankind, this even yet prolific legendary Christianity, which had been the accessory and supplementary Bible, the authoritative and accepted, though often unwritten, Gospel of centuries.b

GREGORY’S SUCCESSORS

Gregory left the papal chair far more securely settled on the lofty eminence where it had been placed than it was when he ascended it. But Sabinian, who succeeded him, expressed little gratitude for the service he had thus performed; indignant at finding the treasury exhausted of its gold, he accused him of having ruined the see by his liberality; and would have proceeded, but for the menaces of both the clergy and the people, publicly to burn his writings. He did not live long after this attempt; and his sudden death was ascribed to a blow on the head inflicted by the angry[540] shade of the departed saint. A truer cause, however, may be found, perhaps, in the fact that he had made himself hated by the populace, by withdrawing the accustomed alms, that he might heal, as he pretended, the injuries inflicted by the liberality of Gregory; a mode of proceeding so little relished by his flock, that, whatever share they might have in his death, they conveyed his breathless body with contempt out of the city.

It was during the pontificate of Boniface III, who resided as Gregory’s legate at the court of Constantinople, and owed his elevation to the emperor, that the Roman pontiff was first dignified with the much-disputed title of universal bishop. For this honour Boniface was indebted to the enmity existing between Phocas and the patriarch of his imperial city. He lived to enjoy his triumph only a few months; and several of his successors seem to have contented themselves with the duties of their station, without entering into direct collision with any rival in authority. It is, however, a singular circumstance, that to the attempts of Boniface IV, who obtained the papal dignity immediately after the pontiff just named, to bring back the separatists from Rome to her communion, a resistance was made by the celebrated Irish apostle Columbanus, breathing much of the freedom and intelligence of later days.

Honorius, who succeeded to the papacy after the two unimportant pontificates of Deusdedit (Deodatus or Adeodatus I) and Boniface V, made a vain attempt to influence the Lombards to restore their king, Adalwald (Adalvaldus), whom they had deposed as a madman, and elected in his place an Arian named Ariwald (Ariovaldus). But the most conspicuous circumstance in his career was his agreement with Sergius, the patriarch of Constantinople, in establishing the celebrated edict by which it was intended to put an end to the monothelite controversy,[87] and render the renewal of it a crime against the laws of the empire. Yet Honorius, in the Sixth General Council, was solemnly anathematised, and classed with the known and most violent supporters of the monothelite heresy.

The death of this pontiff was followed by the pillage of the palace of the Lateran—an outrage which had its origin with the emperor, and was committed by his own officers. Severinus was then placed in the papal chair, but his pontificate was not marked by any important event. The same observation applies to those of his successors, John IV and Theodore. Theodore was succeeded by Martin I, the earliest act of whose pontificate was the calling of a council to condemn the principles of the monothelites, and the late acts of the emperors. The assembly held its first session October 5th, 649; in the fifth and last, which was held on the 31st of October, twenty articles were drawn up against the heresy in question, and its authors, Theodorus, Cyrus, Sergius, Pyrrhus, and Paul, together with all such as should embrace their opinions, were formally anathematised.

The Roman pontiff was by this proceeding brought into immediate collision with the emperor; and the power of the greatest potentate of the church was thus measured with that of the highest in the state. In this respect the issue of the controversy deserves particular note. Martin was a zealous and active churchman, learned and conscientious, strongly impressed with a sense of the importance of unity, and disposed to exercise the authority he possessed to the utmost in its favour. No sooner had the council given its decision, than he despatched letters to all orders of the clergy, acquainting them with the event and with the acts it had passed.[541] But the information which the emperor Constans received of these proceedings filled him with the most violent indignation; and he at once resolved to punish the contempt with which his edict, and that of his predecessor, had been treated. He communicated his wishes to Calliopas, exarch of Italy, who soon after made the pontiff a prisoner and conveyed him to the island of Naxos. For three months he was kept nearly continually on board a ship, and carried from one place to the other, without being allowed even the commonest necessaries of life. At Naxos he remained twelve months in captivity; and was then taken to Constantinople, being exposed, during his passage thither, to a treatment which would have been cruel to a condemned malefactor. On his arrival, fresh indignities and barbarities awaited him. He was cast into a miserable prison, in which he lay apparently forgotten for more than three months, and when carried before the tribunal of justice was examined like a common criminal. The part he had taken in the late events, so far as they strictly pertained to religion, was not considered even by his fiercest opponents as involving a guilt sufficient to justify their severities. He was, therefore, arraigned as an enemy of the state. Twenty witnesses, of whom the greater part were soldiers, and who are said to have been bribed for the occasion, appeared as his accusers.

This mockery of a trial being concluded, the pontiff was carried to an open terrace, where, exposed at once to the gaze of the emperor and the populace, the base servants of the court insulted him in so gross a manner that even the multitude pitied his fate. His outward mantle having been torn off, the officers took him, and stripping off the best of his habits, left only his tunic remaining, which they next rent down on each side, from top to bottom. An iron collar was then fastened round his neck, and he was led from the palace through the midst of the city, chained to one of the keepers of the prison, and preceded by another bearing the sword with which he was to be executed. As they dragged him along, his lacerated feet stained the pavement with blood; and he presented an appearance of humiliation and misery which might well humble the spirits of the haughtiest churchmen of either Rome or Constantinople. But his sufferings did not terminate here. Instead of being executed he was sent into the Chersonesus where he lingered through four months of the severest hardship, then expired. He was succeeded as pope by Eugenius, indebted for his elevation to the influence of the imperial court and his too ready tolerance of its reigning errors. He was consequently regarded at Rome with equal suspicion and dislike. Vitalian, the successor of Eugenius, had the merit of being a strict disciplinarian, and of sending Theodore to England as archbishop of Canterbury. At his death, Adeodatus (Deodatus II) was elected. It was in the pontificate of his successor Domnus that the church of Ravenna became permanently incorporated with that of Rome.

Agatho, the next pope, was not less conspicuous for the devoutness of his character; and the story which is told of his curing by a kiss some leprous person whom he accidentally met, indicates not merely the growing superstition of the age, but the influence which the pontiff’s piety had made upon the minds of the people. At his request it was that the emperor Constantine Pogonatus assembled the Sixth General Council; and it is somewhat singular to find that one of the main objects which his legates laboured at obtaining was a reduction of the sum usually paid by the newly elected pontiff into the imperial treasury. For this indulgence, Agatho willingly confirmed the ancient law, that no pope should be ordained till his election had been formally recognised and confirmed at Constantinople. The harmony which[542] thus existed between the emperor and Agatho was happily continued through the pontificate of Leo II, in whose favour the monarch decreed that the new archbishop of Ravenna should receive his ordination at the hands of the pope. He possessed sufficient interest at the court of the emperor to obtain the important privilege for the Roman pontiffs, of being confirmed in their authority by the exarch of Ravenna, instead of having to make the long and difficult journey to Constantinople.

The pontificate of John V was as unimportant as it was short; he was succeeded by Conon. Next, Sergius occupied the papal chair to the beginning of the eighth century; but, at the commencement of his pontificate, he saw himself opposed by two powerful rivals, and the palace of the Lateran was for some time besieged with open force by the partisans of these pretenders to the papacy. The contest was continued for a considerable period. Sergius, though supported by imperial influence, had to endure a seven years’ exile before he could possess himself of the dignity; and on his refusal to recognise the canons of the council in trullo,[88] was assailed by Justinian II with all the weapons of imperial authority. The conflict was thus renewed, which had so long disturbed the peace of Christendom; and another starting-point given, from which the two great candidates for universal and unlimited power were to begin the race. It is evident that the pontiff had not yet acquired strength sufficient to oppose his rival with certainty of success. At the council of Toledo, held in the year 688, the archbishop of that city obtained a resolution in favour of his opinions, which not simply established his creed in opposition to that of the pontiff, but was couched in terms of haughty defiance and rebuke. The contest, therefore, was as yet unattended by palpable prognostics of the final triumph of the papacy.

The troubles which the church had suffered from the continual motions of half-barbarian hordes were many and severe, but they produced an equivalent advantage. Amid all the struggles to which churchmen were urged by ambition, they displayed, as a body, some of the noblest instances of[543] charity, of care for the poor and distressed, which the world had seen. Pressed by the frequent prospect of immediate ruin, they simultaneously acquired the virtues of resignation and the skill of politicians. It was to them the people owed their preservation when threatened on the one side by foreign enemies, and on the other by the tyranny of their rulers; and till they themselves became oppressors, popular liberty found its best champions among the heads of the church. But when the progress of Christianity itself is considered—that is, the very interests for which the church, with all its attendant powers, was called into existence—doubt and dissatisfaction are almost the invariable result of the inquiry. In Rome, piety was shocked by the open contests which repeatedly took place by candidates for the papal dignity, and by the little less disgraceful plots with which the contending parties prepared for the onset. The provinces, perpetually appealed to on the subject of obedience to the supreme pontiff, saw their own pastors at one time yielding with submissive complacence to his decrees, at another resisting them both openly and in secret.

Sergius was succeeded by John VI (701), in whose pontificate Campania was invaded by the Lombards, under Gisulf, duke of Benevento. His successor, John VII (705), is noted only for having been guilty of the weakness of returning the canons of the council in trullo to the emperor Justinian, without a single alteration. In his pontificate, moreover, the king of the Lombards restored the lands of which he had despoiled the church, and the deed which contained the grant was written in letters of gold. Sisinius was the next pontiff; but he died a few days after his election, and left the see to Constantine, a native of Syria, who retained it about seven years. He was summoned by Justinian to the capital of the East; but the object which the emperor had in view is unknown, and the only result of his journey seems to have been the restoration of Felix, the archbishop of Ravenna, to his diocese and honours. That unfortunate prelate had made an effort to recover the independence possessed by the former bishops of his see; but, though aided by the warlike masters of the district, his attempt failed; and the emperor sending a body of troops from Sicily, the walls of Ravenna were beaten down, and Felix, loaded with chains, was carried a prisoner to Constantinople. There he had to endure the punishment inflicted on the basest criminals. His eyes were put out, and he was banished to the inhospitable shores of Pontus—a punishment, it is said, which was regarded at Rome as the infliction of divine justice.

Notwithstanding the want of positive evidence as to the express object of Constantine’s journey, it is usually believed to have been occasioned by the emperor’s unceasing anxiety to secure the co-operation of the Roman hierarchy in the establishment of the late decrees. It is also argued, and with seeming reason, that his attendance on the imperial commands is a proof of the still unavoidable subjection which the pontiffs had to endure; while his failing to oppose the canons so objectionable to his church affords a similar proof of his weakness and his fears.

Gregory II, by whom he was succeeded (715), pursued a bolder line of conduct.[89] The part which he took in opposition to Leo the Isaurian has been already stated; and his determined attack on the Lombards, who made themselves masters of one of the Neapolitan fortresses, indicated the spirit which, in later times, placed Christian prelates at the head of mail-clad armies. Gregory was in all respects the firm defender and zealous advocate[544] of papal authority. At one moment engaged in open hostilities with the emperor, he was at another employed in directing the labours of missionaries and founding monasteries. Germany, at his direction, was traversed by the ardent and pious Boniface; and in Italy the rule of St. Benedict became, under his patronage, the universal canon of monastic institutions.

The pontificate of Gregory II lasted sixteen years, and he was succeeded by a priest of the same name, whom the people elected by some sudden impulse, while engaged in the obsequies of the former. Gregory III (731-741) carried the principles which had actuated his predecessor to a far greater extent. Unable to withdraw the emperor Leo, either by persuasion or threats, from the vigorous persecution of iconoclasm, he proceeded to the daring measure of excommunicating the sovereign, and then made known to the celebrated Charles Martel his readiness to proclaim him consul of Rome, on condition that he would enable him to support his separation from the dominion of the empire. Leo resented the conduct of the pontiff, by depriving him of part of his revenues and rejecting his legates. But the step which Gregory had taken led directly to the establishment of the papacy on the basis of temporal power and grandeur. A new career, new motives to exertion, were opened to the politicians of the church; and it was no longer with rival prelates the bishops of Rome were to contend, but with states and princes. The prizes for which they were henceforth to strive were to be tributary crowns and sceptres—the triumphs they were to celebrate, not those of truth over heresy, but of arbitrary superstition over the free-will, the natural sentiments, and the evangelical knowledge of Christian nations.g

That reign of terror known as the struggle of the iconoclasts has been alluded to already in the history of the Byzantine Empire. It may also be summed up here with its consequences.

DRAPER ON THE ORIGIN OF ICONOCLASM

Three causes gave rise to iconoclasm, or the revolt against image-worship; first, the remonstrances and derision of the Mohammedans; second, the good sense of a great sovereign, Leo the Isaurian, who had risen by his merit from obscurity, and had become the founder of a new dynasty at Constantinople; third, the detected inability of these miracle-working idols and fetiches to protect their worshippers or themselves against an unbelieving enemy. Moreover, an impression was gradually making its way among the more intelligent classes that religion ought to free itself from such superstitions. So important were the consequences of Leo’s actions, that some have been disposed to assign to his reign the first attempt at making policy depend on theology; and to this period they therefore refer the commencement of the Byzantine Empire. Through one hundred and twenty years, six emperors devoted themselves to this reformation. But it was premature. They were overpowered by the populace and the monks, by the bishops of Rome, and by a superstitious and wicked woman.

It had been a favourite argument against the pagans how little their gods could do for them when the hour of calamity came, when their statues and images were insulted and destroyed; and hence how vain was such worship, how imbecile such gods. When Africa and Asia, full of relics and crosses, pictures and images, fell before the Mohammedans, those conquerors retaliated the same logic with no little effect. There was hardly one of the fallen[545] towns that had not some idol for its protector. Remembering the stern objurgations of the prophet against this deadly sin, prohibited at once by the commandment of God and repudiated by the reason of man, the Saracen caliphs had ordered all the Syrian images to be destroyed. Amid the derision of the Arab soldiery and the tears of the terror-stricken worshippers, these orders were remorselessly carried into effect, except in some cases where the temptation of an enormous ransom induced the avengers of the unity of God to swerve from their duty. Thus the piece of linen cloth on which it was feigned that our Saviour had impressed his countenance, and which was the palladium of Edessa, was carried off by the victors at the capture of that town, and subsequently sold to Constantinople at the profitable price of twelve thousand pounds of silver. This picture, and also some other celebrated ones, it was said, possessed the property of multiplying themselves by contact with other surfaces, as in modern times we multiply photographs. Such were the celebrated images “made without hands.”

It was currently asserted that the immediate origin of iconoclasm was due to the caliph Yazid, who had completed the destruction of the Syrian images, and to two Jews, who stimulated Leo the Isaurian to his task. However that may be, Leo published an edict (726 A.D.), prohibiting the worship of images. This was followed by another directing their destruction, and the whitewashing of the walls of churches ornamented with them. Hereupon the clergy and the monks rebelled; the emperor was denounced as a Mohammedan and a Jew. He ordered that a statue of the Saviour in that part of the city called Chalcopratia should be removed, and a riot was the consequence. One of his officers mounted the ladder and struck the idol with an axe upon its face; it was an incident like that enacted centuries before in the temple of Serapis at Alexandria. The sacred image, which had often arrested the course of nature and worked many miracles, was now found to be unable to protect or to avenge its own honour. A rabble of women interfered in its behalf; they threw down the ladder and killed the officer; nor was the riot ended until the troops were called in and a great massacre perpetrated. The monks spread the sedition in all parts of the empire; they even attempted to proclaim a new emperor. Leo was everywhere denounced as a Mohammedan infidel, an enemy of the mother of God; but with inflexible resolution he persisted in his determination as long as he lived.h

MILMAN ON ICONOCLASM

Iconoclasm was an attempt by the Eastern emperor to change by his own arbitrary command the religion of his subjects. No religious revolution has ever been successful which has commenced with the government. Such revolutions have ever begun in the middle or lower orders of society, struck on some responsive chord of sympathy in the general feeling, supplied some religious want, stirred some religious energy, and shaken the inert strength of the established faith by some stronger counter emotion.

Whatever the motives of the emperor Leo the Isaurian (and on this subject, as in all the religious controversies where the writings of the unsuccessful party were carefully suppressed or perished through neglect, authentic history is almost silent), whether he was actuated by a rude aversion to what perhaps can hardly yet be called the fine arts with which Christianity was associating itself, or by a spiritual disdain and impatience of the degrading superstition into which the religion of the Gospel had so long been[546] degenerating, the attempt was as politically unwise and unseasonable as the means employed were despotic and altogether unequal to the end. The time was passed, if it had ever been, when an imperial edict could change, or even much affect, the actual prevailing religion of the empire. For this was no speculative article of belief, no question of high metaphysical theology, but a total change in the universal popular worship, in the spirit and in the essence, if not of the daily ritual, of countless observances and habitual practices of devotion. It swept away from almost all the churches of the empire objects hallowed by devotion, and supposed to be endowed with miraculous agency; objects of hope and fear, of gratitude and immemorial veneration. It not merely invaded the public church, and left its naked walls without any of the old remembrancers of faith and piety; it reached the private sanctuary of prayer. No one could escape the proscription; learned or unlearned, priest or peasant, monk or soldier, clergyman or layman, man, woman, and even child were involved in the strife. Something to which their religious attachments clung, to which their religious passions were wedded, might at any time be forcibly rent away, insulted, trampled under foot; that which had been their pride and delight could only now be furtively visited, and under the fear of detection.

Nor was it possible for this controversy to vent itself in polemic writings. Here actual, personal, furious collision of man and man, of faction and faction, of armed troops against armed troops, was inevitable. The contending parties did not assail each other with mutual anathemas, which they might despise, or excommunication and counter excommunication, the validity of which might be questioned by either party. On one side it was a sacred obligation to destroy, to mutilate, to dash to pieces, to deface the objects on which the other had so long gazed with intense devotion, and which he might think it an equally sacred obligation to defend at the sacrifice of life. It was not a controversy, it was a feud; not a polemic strife, but actual war declared by one part of Christendom against the other. It was well perhaps for Christendom that the parties were not more equally balanced; that, right or wrong, one party in that division of the Christian world, where total change would have been almost extermination, obtained a slow but complete triumph.b

Milman then goes on to plead eloquently for the encouragement of the fine arts by the church which produced a Raphael and a Michelangelo, as the Greek religion produced and employed its Phidias and Praxiteles. He then proceeds to describe the ferocity of the dissension.a

THE WAR OF ICONOCLASM

A formidable insurrection broke out in Greece and in the Ægean islands. A fleet was armed, a new emperor, one Cosmas, proclaimed, and Constantinople menaced by the rebels. The fleet, however, was scattered and destroyed by ships which discharged the Greek fire; the insurrection was suppressed, the leaders either fell or were executed, along with the usurper. The monks here and throughout the empire, the champions of this as of every other superstition, were the instigators to rebellion. Few monasteries were without some wonder-working image; the edict struck at once at their influence, their interest, their pride, their most profound religious feelings.

But the more eminent clergy were likewise at first almost unanimous in their condemnation of the emperor. Constantine, bishop of Nacolia, indeed,[547] is branded as his adviser. Another bishop, Theodosius, son of Apsimarus, metropolitan of Ephesus, is named as entering into the war against images. But almost for the first time the bishops of the two Romes, Germanus of Constantinople and Pope Gregory II, were united in one common cause. Leo attempted to win Germanus to his views, but the aged patriarch (he was now ninety-five years old) calmly but resolutely resisted the arguments, the promises, the menaces of the emperor.

But the conduct of Gregory II, as leading to more important results, demands more rigid scrutiny. The Byzantine historians represent him as proceeding, at the first intimation of the hostility of the emperor to image-worship, to an act of direct revolt, as prohibiting the payment of tribute by the Italian province. This was beyond the power, probably beyond the courage, of Gregory. The great results of the final separation of the West from the inefficient and inglorious sovereignty of the East might excuse or palliate, if he had foreseen them, the disloyalty of Pope Gregory to Leo. But it would be to estimate his political and religious sagacity too highly to endow him with this gift of ambitious prophecy, to suppose him anticipating the full development of Latin Christianity when it should become independent of the East.

Like most ordinary minds, and if we are to judge by his letters Gregory’s was a very ordinary mind, he was merely governed by the circumstances and passions of his time without the least foreknowledge of the result of his actions. The letter of Pope Gregory to the emperor (729 A.D.) is arrogant without dignity, dogmatic without persuasiveness; in the stronger part of the argument far inferior, both in skill and ingenuity, to that of the aged Germanus, or the writer who guided his pen. The strange mistakes in the history of the Old Testament, the still stranger interpretations of the New, the loose legends which are advanced as history, give a very low opinion of the knowledge of the times.

When Gregory addressed this and a second letter to the emperor Leo, the tumult in Constantinople, the first public act of rebellion against iconoclasm, had taken place; but the aged bishop Germanus was not yet degraded from his see. Germanus, with better temper and more skilful argument, had defended the images of the East. Before his death (731), he was deposed or compelled to retire from his see. He died most probably in peace; his[548] extreme age may well account for his death. His personal ill treatment by the emperor is the legend of a later age to exalt him into a martyr.

But these two powerful prelates were not the only champions of their cause whose writings made a strong impression on their age. It is singular that the most admired defender of images in the East was a subject not of the emperor but of the Mohammedan sultan. John of Damascus was famed as the most learned man in the East, and it may show either the tolerance, the ignorance, or the contempt of the Mohammedans for these Christian controversies, that writings which became celebrated all over the East should issue from one of their capital cities, Damascus.

In the West, all power, almost all pretension to power, excepting over Sicily and Calabria, expired with Leo;[90] and this independence partly arose out of and was immeasurably strengthened by the faithful adherence of the West to image-worship.

CONSTANTINE COPRONYMUS (741-775 A.D.)

Leo was succeeded by his son Constantine. The name by which this emperor was known is a perpetual testimony to the hatred of a large part of his subjects. Even in his infancy he was believed to have shown a natural aversion to holy things, and in his baptism to have defiled the font. Constantine Copronymus sounded to Greek ears as a constant taunt against his filthy and sacrilegious character.

The accession of Constantine (741), although he had already been acknowledged for twenty years with his father as joint emperor, met formidable resistance. The contest for the throne was a strife between the two religious parties which divided the empire. During the absence of Constantine, on an expedition against the Saracens, a sudden and dangerous insurrection placed his brother-in-law, Artavasdes, on the throne. Constantinople was gained to the party of the usurper by treachery. The city was induced to submit to Artavasdes only by a rumour, industriously propagated and generally believed, of the death of Constantine. The emperor on one occasion had been in danger of surprise, and escaped by the swiftness of his horses.

In the capital, as throughout Greece and the European part of the empire, the triumph of Artavasdes was followed by the restoration of the images. Anastasius, the dastard patriarch of Constantinople, as he had been the slave of Leo, now became the slave of the usurper, and worshipped images with the same zeal with which he had destroyed them. He had been the principal actor in the deception of the people by the forged letters which announced the death of Constantine. He plunged with more desperate recklessness into the party of Artavasdes. The monks, and all over whom they had influence, took up the cause of the usurper; but the mass of the people, from royal respect for the memory of Leo, or from their confidence in the vigorous character of Constantine and attachment to the legitimate succession, from indifference or aversion to image-worship, still wavered, and submitted rather than clamorously rejoiced in the coronation of Artavasdes.

But Constantine Copronymus with the religious opinions inherited the courage, the military abilities, and the popularity with the army which had distinguished his father Leo. After some vicissitudes, a battle took place near Ancyra, fought with all the ferocity of civil and religious war. After[549] an obstinate resistance, and after having suffered all the horrors of famine, Constantinople was taken. Artavasdes was punished by the loss of his eyes.

Constantine was a soldier, doubtless of a fierce temper; the blinding and mutilation of many, the beheading a few of his enemies, the abandonment of the houses of the citizens to the plunder of his troops, was the natural course of Byzantine revolution; and these cruelties have no doubt lost nothing in the dark representations of the emperor’s enemies, the only historians of the times. But they suffered as rebels in arms against their sovereign, not as image-worshippers. The fate of the patriarch Anastasius was the most extraordinary. His eyes were put out, he was led upon an ass, with his face to the tail, through the city; and after all this mutilation and insult, for which, considering his tergiversation and impudent mendacity, it is difficult to feel much compassion, he was reinstated in the patriarchal dignity. The clergy in the East had never been arrayed in the personal sanctity which, in ordinary occasions, they possessed in the West; but could Constantine have any other object in this act than the degradation of the whole order in public estimation?

THIRD COUNCIL OF CONSTANTINOPLE (746 A.D.)

For ten years Constantine refrained from any stronger measures against image worship. In the tenth year of Constantine rumours spread abroad of secret councils held for the total destruction of images. Either the emperor must have prepared the public mind for this great change with consummate address, or reverence for images must have been less deeply rooted in the East than in the West, otherwise it can scarcely be supposed that so large a number of the clergy as appeared at the Third Council of Constantinople (746) would have slavishly assented to the strong measures of the emperor. Three hundred and forty-eight bishops formed this synod.

Part of the proceedings of this assembly have been preserved in the records of the rival council, the second held in Nicæa. The passages are cited in the original words, followed by a confutation, sanctioned apparently by the Nicene bishops. The Council of Constantinople proscribes the lawless and blasphemous art of painting. The fathers of Constantinople assume, as boldly as the brethren of Nicæa their sanctity, that all images are the invention of the devil; that they are idols in the same sense as those of the heathen. Nor do they hesitate to impute community of sentiment with the worst heretics to their opponents. They thought that they held the image-worshippers in an inextricable dilemma. If the painters represented only the humanity of Christ, they were Nestorians; if they attempted to mingle it with the divinity, they were Eutychians, circumscribing the infinite and confounding the two substances. It was impiety to represent Christ without his divinity, Arianism to undeify him, despoil him of his godhead.

The Council of Nicæa admits the perfect unanimity of the Council of Constantinople. These 348 bishops concurred in pronouncing their anathema against all who should represent the incarnate Word by material form or colours, who should not restrict themselves to the pure spiritual conception of the Christ, as he is seated, superior in brightness to the sun, on the right hand of the Father; against all who should confound the two natures of Christ in one human image, or who should separate the manhood from the Godhead in the second person of the indivisible Trinity; against all who should not implore the intercession of the Virgin in pure faith, as above all visible and invisible things; against all who should set up the deaf and[550] lifeless images of saints, and who do not rather paint the living likenesses of their virtues in their own hearts. All images, whether statues or paintings, were to be forcibly removed from the churches; everyone who henceforth should set up an image, if a bishop or priest, was to be degraded; if a layman, excommunicated. They proceed to curse by name the principal asserters of image-worship. “Anathema against the double-minded Germanus, the worshipper of wood! Anathema against George (of Cyprus), the falsifier of the traditions of the fathers! Anathema against Mansar (they called by this unchristian-sounding name the famous John of Damascus), the Saracen in heart, the traitor to the empire—Mansar the teacher of impiety, the false interpreter of Holy Scripture!”

Thus was image-worship proscribed by a council, in numbers at least of weight, in the severest and most comprehensive terms. The work of demolition was committed to the imperial officers; only with strict injunctions, not perhaps always obeyed, to respect the vessels, the priestly vestments, and other furniture of the churches, and the cross, the naked cross without any image. The crucifix was of a later period.

THE WAR ON MONASTERIES

But if the emperor had overawed, or bought, or compelled the seemingly willing assent of so large a body of the eastern clergy, the formidable monks were still in obstinate implacable opposition to his will. It was now fanaticism encountering fanaticism. Everywhere the monks preached resistance to the imperial decree, and enough has been seen of their turbulent and intractable conduct to make us conclude that their language at least would keep no bounds. Stephen, the great martyr of this controversy, had lived as a hermit in a cave near Sinope for thirty years.

The emperor sent the patriarch to persuade him to subscribe the decrees of the Council of Constantinople. The patriarch’s eloquence was vain. The emperor either allowed or compelled the aged monk to retire to the wild rock of Proconnesus, where, to consummate his sanctity, he took his stand upon a pillar. His followers assembled in crowds about him, and built their cells around the pillar of the saint. But the zeal of Stephen would not be confined within that narrow sphere. He returned to the city, and in bold defiance of the imperial orders denounced the iconoclasts. He was seized, cast into prison, and there treated with unusual harshness. But even there the zeal of his followers found access. Constantine exclaimed, in a paroxysm of careless anger, “Am I or this monk the emperor of the world?” The word of the emperor was enough for some of his obsequious courtiers; they rushed, broke open the prison, dragged out the old man along the streets with every wanton cruelty, and cast his body at last into the common grave of the public malefactors.

The emperor took now a sterner and more desperate resolution. He determined to root out monkery itself. The monks were driven from their cloisters, which were given up to profane and secular uses. Consecrated virgins were forced to marry; monks were compelled, each holding the hand of a woman, doubtless not of the purest character, to walk round the Hippodrome among the jeers and insults of the populace. Throughout the whole empire they were exposed to the lawless persecutions of the imperial officers. Their zeal or their obstinacy was chastised by scourgings, imprisonments, mutilations, and even death. The monasteries were plundered, and by no[551] scrupulous or reverent hands; churches are said to have been despoiled of all their sacred treasures, the holy books burned, feasts and revels profaned the most hallowed sanctuaries.

Multitudes fled to the neighbouring kingdoms of the less merciless barbarians; many found refuge in the West, especially in Rome. The prefect of Thrace was the most obsequious agent of his master’s tyranny. The patriarch himself was accused of having used disrespectful language towards the emperor. Already he had been required to acquit himself of imputing Nestorianism to his master; now his accusers swore on the cross that they had heard him hold conference with one of the conspirators. Constantine ordered the imperial seal to be affixed on the palace of the patriarch, and sent him into banishment.

For some new offence, real or supposed, the exiled patriarch was brought back to the capital, scourged so cruelly that he could not walk, and then carried in a litter, and exposed in the great church before all the people assembled to hear the public recital of the charges made against him, and to behold his degradation. At each charge the secretary of his successor smote him on the face. He was then set up in the pulpit, and while Nicetas read the sentence of excommunication, another bishop stripped him of his metropolitan pall, and calling him by the opprobrious name Scotiopsis, “face of darkness,” led him backwards out of the church. The next day his head, beard, eyebrows were shaved; and as we have already said, he was put upon an ass, and paraded through the circus (his own nephew, a hideous, deformed youth, leading the ass), while the populace jeered, shouted, spat upon him. He was then thrown down, trodden on, and in that state lay till the games were over. Some days after the emperor sent to demand a formal declaration of the orthodoxy of his own faith and of the authority of the council. The poor wretch acknowledged both in the amplest manner; as a reward he was beheaded, while still in a state of excommunication, and his remains treated with the utmost ignominy.

This odious scene, blackened it may be by the sectarian hatred of the later annalists, all of whom abhorred iconoclasm, has been related at length, in order to contrast more fully the position of the bishop of Rome. This was the second patriarch of Constantinople who had been thus barbarously treated, and seemingly without the sympathy of the people; and now, in violation of all canonical discipline, the imperial will had raised a eunuch to the patriarchate. What wonder that pontiffs like Gregory II and Gregory III should think themselves justified in throwing off the yoke of such a government, and look with hope to the sovereignty of the less barbarous barbarians of the north—barbarians who, at least, had more reverence for the dignity of the sacerdotal character.

If the Byzantine historians, all image-worshippers, have not greatly exaggerated the cruelties of their implacable enemy Constantine Copronymus, they have assuredly not done justice to his nobler qualities, his valour, incessant activity, military skill, and general administration of the sinking empire, which he maintained unviolated by any of its formidable enemies, and with imposing armies, during a reign of thirty-five years, not including the twenty preceding during which he ruled as the colleague of his father Leo. Constantine died, during a campaign against the Bulgarians, of a fever which, in the charitable judgment of his adversaries, gave him a foretaste of the pains of hell. His dying lips ordered prayers and hymns offered to the Virgin, for whom he had always professed the most profound veneration, utterly inconsistent, his enemies supposed, with his hostility to her sacred images.

[552]

HELENA AND IRENE

A female had been the principal mover in the great change of Christianity from a purely spiritual worship to that paganising form of religion which grew up with such rapidity in the succeeding centuries; a female was the restorer of images in the East, which have since, with but slight interruption, maintained their sanctity. The first, Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great, was a blameless and devout woman, who used the legitimate influence of her station, munificence, and authority over her imperial son, to give that splendour which to her piety appeared becoming to the new religion; to communicate to the world all those excitements of symbols, relics, and sacred memorials which she found so powerful in kindling her own devotion. The second, the empress Irene, wife to the son and heir of Constantine Copronymus, an ambitious, intriguing, haughty princess, never lost sight of political power in the height of her religious zeal, and was at length guilty of the most atrocious crime against God and womanhood.

Irene, during the reign of her husband Leo, surnamed the Khazar, did not openly betray her inclination to the image-worship which she had solemnly forsworn under her father-in-law Constantine. On his death (780) she at once seized the government in the name of her son Constantine, who was but ten years old. Her creature, Patriarch Tarasius, summoned a council on image-worship.

The council met in Constantinople (785), but with the army and a large part of the populace of Constantinople image-worship had lost its power. The soldiery, attached to the memory and tenets of Constantine Copronymus, broke into the assembly, and dispersed the affrighted monks and bishops.

SECOND COUNCIL OF NICÆA (787 A.D.)

Nicæa was chosen for the session of the council, no doubt on account of the reverence which attached to that city, hallowed by the sittings of the first great council of Christendom. Decrees issued from Nicæa would possess peculiar force and authority; this smaller city, too, could be occupied by troops on whom the empress could depend, and in the meantime Irene managed to disband the more unruly soldiery. Thus, while the Bulgarians menaced one frontier and the Saracens another, she sacrificed the safety of the empire, by the dissolution of her best army, to the success of her religious designs.

The council met at Nicæa. The number of ecclesiastics is variously stated from 330 to 387. Among these were at least 130 monks or abbots, besides many bishops, who had been expelled as monks from their sees, and were now restored. They repudiated the so-called Council of Constantinople, as a synod of fools and madmen, who had dared to violate the established discipline of the church and impiously reviled the holy images. They showered their anathemas on all the acts, on all the words, on all the persons engaged in that unhallowed assembly.

The fathers of Nicæa impaired a doubtful cause by the monstrous fables which they adduced, the preposterous arguments which they used, their unmeasured invectives against their antagonists. With one voice they broke out into a long acclamation: “We all believe, we all assent, we all subscribe. This is the faith of the apostles, this is the faith of the church, this is the faith of the orthodox, this is the faith of all the world. We, who adore[553] the Trinity, worship images. Whoever does not the like, anathema upon him! Anathema on all who call images idols! Anathema on all who communicate with them who do not worship images!”

Among the acclamations and the anathemas which closed the Second Council of Nicæa, echoed loud salutations and prayers for the peace and blessedness of the new Constantine and the new Helena. A few years passed and that Constantine was blinded, if not put to death, by his unnatural mother, whom religious faction had raised into a model of Christian virtue and devotion.

The controversy slept during the reign of Nicephorus, and that of Michael, surnamed Rhangabé. The monks throughout this period seem to form an independent power (a power no doubt arising out of and maintained by their championship of image-worship), and to dictate to the emperor, and even to the church. On the other hand, among the soldiery are heard some deep but suppressed murmurs of attachment to the memory of Constantine Copronymus. Leo the Armenian ascended the throne.

As Irene had promoted Tarasius, so Leo raised an officer of his household, Theodotus Cassiteras, to the patriarchal throne. Image-worship was again proscribed by an imperial edict. The worshippers are said to have been ruthlessly persecuted; and Leo, according to the phraseology of the day, is accused of showing all the blood-thirstiness without the generosity of the lion. Yet no violent popular tumult took place; nor does the conspiracy which afterwards cut short the days of Leo the Armenian appear to have been connected with the strife of religious factions. Whatever hopes the clergy, at least the image-worshippers, or the monks, might have conceived at the murder of Leo, which they scrupled not to allege as a sign of the divine disfavour towards the iconoclasts, were disappointed on the accession of Michael the Stammerer. He favoured the Jews in the exaction of tribute (perhaps he was guilty of the sin of treating them with justice), he fasted on the Jewish Sabbath, he doubted the resurrection of the dead, and the personality of the devil, as unauthorised by the religion of Moses. Image-worship he treated with contemptuous impartiality. In a great public assembly (assembled for the purpose), he proclaimed the worship of images a matter altogether indifferent.

Theophilus could not but perceive the failure, and disdained to imitate his father’s temporising policy, who endeavoured to tolerate the monks, while he discouraged image-worship. He avowed his determination to extirpate both at once. Leo the Armenian and Michael the Stammerer had attempted to restrict the honours paid to images; Theophilus prohibited the making of new ones, and ordered that in every church they should be effaced, and the walls covered with pictures of birds and beasts. The sacred vessels, adorned with figures, were profaned by unhallowed hands, sold in the public markets, and melted for their metal. The prisons were full of painters, of monks and ecclesiastics of all orders. The monks, driven from their convents, fled to desert places; some perished of cold and hunger, some threw off the proscribed dress, yet retained the sacred character and habits; others seized the opportunity of returning to the pleasures as to the dress of the world.

The history of iconoclasm has a remarkable uniformity: another female in power, another restoration of images. After the death of Theophilus his widow Theodora administered the empire in the name of her youthful son Michael, called afterwards the Drunkard. Theodora, like her own mother Theoctista, had always worshipped images in private. No sooner was Theophilus dead than the monks, no doubt in the secret of Theodora’s concealed attachment to images, poured into Constantinople from all quarters.[554] She now ventured to send an officer of the palace to command the patriarch, Joannes the Grammarian, either to recant his iconoclastic opinions, or to withdraw from Constantinople. The patriarch is accused of a paltry artifice. He opened a vein in the region of his stomach, and showed himself wounded and bleeding to the people. The rumour spread that the empress had attempted to assassinate the patriarch. But the fraud was detected, exposed, acknowledged. The abashed patriarch withdrew, unpitied and despised, into the suburbs (842). Methodius was raised to the dignity of the patriarchate. The worshippers of images were in triumph.

But Theodora, still tenderly attached to the memory of her husband, demanded, as the price of her inestimable services in the restoration of images, absolution for the sin of his iconoclasm and his persecution of the image-worshippers.

All was now easy; the fanaticism of iconoclasm was exhausted or rebuked. A solemn festival was appointed for the restoration of images. The whole clergy of Constantinople, and all who could flock in from the neighbourhood, met in and before the palace of the archbishop, and marched in procession with crosses, torches, and incense, to the church of St. Sophia. There they were met by the empress and her infant son Michael, Feb. 19th, 842. They made the circuit of the church, with their burning torches, paying homage to every image and picture, which had been carefully restored, never again to be effaced till the days of later, more terrible iconoclasts, the Ottoman Turks.

The Greek church from that time has celebrated the anniversary of this festival with loyal fidelity. The successors of Methodius, particularly the learned Photius, were only zealous to consummate the work of his predecessors, and images have formed part of the recognised religious worship of the Eastern world.b

FOOTNOTES

---

[555]

CHAPTER II. “THE NIGHT OF THE PAPACY”—CHARLEMAGNE TO OTTO THE GREAT

From the East, powerless to render help, from an empire crumbling away beneath the weight of its own greatness, Gregory III therefore turned away, and fixed his gaze on the youthful greatness of a transalpine nation—the Franks—brave, adventurous, full of promise, successful in warfare, and destined to rise to future power. With Charles Martel, mayor of the palace, and virtual ruler of the Frankish realm, Gregory II had already opened communications. To Charles Martel, his successor Gregory III again appealed, when, after eight years of doubtful peace, he suddenly found himself involved in an open war with the Lombards. His appeal is truly touching: “His tears are falling night and day for the destitute state of the church; the Lombard king and his son are ravaging the last remains of the property of the church, which no longer suffices for the sustenance of the poor, or to provide lights for the daily service; they have invaded the territory of Rome and seized all his farms; his only hope is in the timely succour of the Frankish king.” The appeal was rendered still stronger by the presents that accompanied it—the mystic keys of the sepulchre of St. Peter, and filings of his chains, which no Christian could resist. The title of patrician and consul of Rome was offered; and Gregory, as might be expected after such presents, received a courteous answer and an embassy was despatched to the imperial city.

It is impossible to say what might have been the result of the negotiations between the pope and the ambassadors had they been continued. They were, however, interrupted by the death of both the potentates; of Charles Martel in October, of Gregory III in November of the very same[556] year. Nevertheless these negotiations were the prelude to subsequent negotiations which Pepin le Bref, the son of Charles Martel, carried on with Pope Zacharias (Zachary), the successor of Gregory III; and this time the negotiations led to most important results.

INDEPENDENCE OF THE ROMAN BISHOPS

At the election of Zacharias, the customary form of obtaining the consent of the exarch was discarded, and discarded to be never afterwards revived. Henceforth the popes may be considered as independent of the Eastern Empire; henceforth begins their connection with the West; henceforth they hold no longer an exclusive ecclesiastical position, but the papacy has become a political dukedom. After the Sixth General Council, they had claimed the title of “universal priest,” and vindicated that claim by soon afterwards reducing to submission the last of the great archbishops of the West. After the appeal to Charles Martel and the independent election of Zacharias, they aspired to political sovereignty.b

THE APPEAL TO THE FRANKS

Zacharias, convinced of the advantage which Rome might derive from intimate union with the rising power of the Franks, watched with careful attention over the interests of the mayors of the palace; and it was at his suggestion that the nation at length conferred on those powerful functionaries the titles as well as the privileges of royalty. The Lombard princes regarded him with corresponding reverence. Liutprand, whose reign lasted above thirty years, was distinguished for his devout observance of the maxims of the church. The charity of the pontiff was equal to his talents, and the slaves which Venice offered to the Moors were purchased by his agents and set free.

Stephen II,[91] who next occupied the pontifical chair, had to endure, from the very commencement of his career, the troubles and dangers of domestic wars. Aistulf, the new king of the Lombards, inherited the spirit of his earliest predecessors, and it only required the appearance of a leader like Aistulf to put an end forever to the rule of the Greeks in Italy. But the Lombard monarch was not contented with the acquisition of Ravenna. He assailed the duchy of Rome and the lands of the church, nor could Stephen, either by the most solemn expostulations, or the offers which he made of money, induce the conqueror to withdraw his troops. In this situation, and when the Lombards had demanded as the price of their safety a tribute which the citizens of Rome felt it would be impossible to pay, the pontiff sent messengers to Constantinople requesting aid of the emperor; but his entreaties were disregarded. He turned his eyes towards France, where Pepin, the father of the heroic Charlemagne, was now at the head of a nation as warlike as the Lombards, and as disposed to ally itself with Rome as the invaders were to effect its ruin.

[557]

Ambassadors were sent to Rome to treat with the Lombards for Stephen’s safe passage into France, a negotiation which could scarcely fail in the hands of the powerful sovereign by whom it was undertaken. The pontiff was speedily on his way to the new protector of the church. He appeared with all his attendants before the monarch, clad in sackcloth and ashes, and falling at his knees he implored him, by the mercy of God and the merits of St. Peter and St. Paul, to deliver Rome from the devastation of the Lombards. Pepin in reply promised to grant the pontiff’s request, and speedily fulfilled his promise by compelling the enemy to retreat and shut himself up in the single town of Pavia. Aistulf, thus pressed, agreed to the terms proposed by his conqueror, and the French army was withdrawn. But scarcely had they left the district when he returned to the attack with renewed vigour, laid waste the country round Rome with fire and sword, and at length encamped before the gates of the city itself. The pontiff again sent a strong appeal to his protector. He dictated his letter in the name of the apostle Peter, closely imitating his epistles, and speaking in a language which implied that he was possessed of an authority to anoint or dethrone kings, and to perform the offices, not of a messenger, of a teacher sent from God, which is the highest characteristic of an apostle, but of a delegated minister of his power and justice.

The French monarch was moved to render the pontiff immediate succour, and Aistulf was quickly deprived of the fruits of his numerous campaigns. It now became a question to whom the district from which the Lombard was driven ought of right to belong; and, before this point could be decided, the envoy of the Greek emperor appeared, to claim for his master the restoration of the territory which he had so completely abandoned to its fate. But Pepin was both too politic and too conscious of his power to listen to such demands; and sending his chief counsellor, the abbot Fulrade (Folrad), to perform the investiture, he granted to Stephen, and to his successors forever, the undivided sovereignty of the conquered territory.

Thus commenced the temporal dominion of the bishops of Rome—an event which marks a distinct period in the history of the papacy, but the importance of which we cannot but think has been somewhat overrated. The power by which the pontiffs acquired their vast empire in the minds of men, owed little or none of its vigour to the influence they possessed as princes; it went on increasing till it reached the very boundaries of civilisation, while their little seigniory remained confined within the narrowest limits; and it declined, and became almost nominal, while their rights as sovereigns continued to be acknowledged by all the states of Europe. In point of wealth it plainly admits of being questioned whether they could gain any advantage from an acquisition which obliged them to keep an army in their pay; to support a countless train of emissaries and envoys; and to engage in all the expensive arts of diplomacy with the monarchs of countries whose treasures were perpetually supplied by the labours and the commerce of their people.

As little was their new dominion advantageous to their dignity. The pontiff was the first among the spiritual rulers of mankind, the lowest almost of temporal princes. As the head of the church, he was rendered venerable by all the associations and by many of the highest sanctions of religion; as the successor of the exarchs of Ravenna, he was the dependent of every prince who had an army at his command, and was but an item in the catalogue of petty rulers, who were counted as make-weights in the balance of power. In whatever designs he undertook as the supremely[558] endowed minister of God, he could appeal to the hearts and consciences of men; could shake the confidence of the mightiest, and bring into alliance the most contrary elements of society to effect his purpose; whatever attempts he had to make in his temporal capacity required to be supported by the pettiest inventions of secret policy, by contrivances and deceits which, in time, rendered the proceedings of the court of Rome proverbial as examples of cunning and duplicity.

Stephen died, after a short but eventful pontificate of five years, and was succeeded by his brother Paul (756 A.D.). The Greeks still continued to proclaim their pretensions to the sovereignty of Italy; nor dared the Roman pontiff, vain as were their claims, at once throw off the appearance of allegiance. The Lombards, on the other hand, showed themselves little inclined to preserve the treaty which had been formed with the church. A tumult, equally dangerous to the state and to the respectability of the pontificate, followed the death of Paul. Totona, a nobleman of wealth and influence, formed the design of elevating his brother Constantine to the vacant chair, and Constantine kept possession of his usurped authority nearly a year. A strong effort was then made by the great body of the clergy and the people to recover their invaded right of election. The pontiff was seized, and deprived of his eyes. A new pope ascended the throne.

Stephen III enjoyed his honours about four years, and then left them to be possessed by Adrian I. The Lombards still pressed close upon the boundaries of Rome. It was at this period, moreover, that the controversy with the iconoclasts approached its highest degree of virulence; and Adrian had to employ all the prudence of which he was master to meet the dangers in which it involved him. The measures pursued by the empress Irene were as unfavourable to his views as they were in themselves violent and unjust. The iconoclasts were as odious to him as to her; they were as opposed to the system which it was his object to establish, as they were to her usurpations and tyranny. While he expressed his doubts, therefore, as to the propriety of the new patriarch’s consecration, and showed considerable backwardness in recognising the Second Council of Nicæa, he attempted no vigorous resistance to the invasion of those rules which were violated in her proceedings. The establishment of image-worship promised effects more favourable to his general interests than the assumption of authority by Tiresias, and his patroness was offensive to his immediate feelings. But the church was now to receive the support of a prince whose character and circumstances were equally calculated to mark him for her champion.c

CHARLEMAGNE AND THE POPE

Einhardl (Eginhard), the biographer of Charlemagne, informs us that the strictest friendship subsisted between that monarch and Pope Adrian I. In the still extant correspondence between them, we find the freest communication of opinion and feeling both upon political and ecclesiastical affairs. In exact conformity with the policy of his predecessors, Adrian regarded the Frankish monarch as the covenanted protector of the holy see and its possessions, and in that capacity bound to recover for her every debt the pope might see fit to claim as her “righteous due.” Thus when Leo, archbishop of Ravenna, refused to relinquish his metropolitan rights over certain districts alleged to form part of the donation of Charlemagne, the pope expressed his anxiety for the presence and support of his friend and protector. Adrian,[559] moreover, suspected the royal missi, or commissioners, of collusion with the vassal dukes of Benevento and Spoleto, to the injury of the holy see; and, whether from authentic information or with a view to alarm his correspondent for the safety of his Italian conquests, he magnified the transactions complained of into a criminal conspiracy against the crown. He told the king that the outbreak was actually fixed to take place in the month of March then next following (776 A.D.); that Adelchis (Adalgis), the son of Desiderius, the captive king of the Lombards, was to appear on the coast with a Greek fleet; that Rome was to be assailed both by sea and land, the churches were to be plundered, the pope was to be carried into captivity, and the Lombard dynasty to be reinstated.

Other motives were not wanting to induce Charlemagne to pay a second military visit to his newly acquired dominions in Italy. It had become necessary to take immediate steps for the dissolution of a long-suspected plot between his disaffected subject, Duke Tassilo of Bavaria, and the partisans of the late dynasty. In the winter, therefore, of the year 776, he crossed the Alps at the head of a numerous army; the duke of Friuli, who appears to have taken a principal part in the conspiracy, was expelled from his duchy; and in a short time the presence of the conqueror appears to have dispelled all apprehensions of further danger either to church or state. The pope professed himself satisfied with the result, and returned thanks for the protection afforded with great apparent warmth and cordiality.

THE DONATION FROM CONSTANTINE

Yet all had not, it seems, been done for the satisfaction of the papal claims. Another and a different title to an almost imperial power is brought to light. Now, for the first time after the lapse of four centuries and a half, it is discovered that all which Pepin or Charlemagne had conferred on the church of Rome was an insignificant instalment of that more extensive dominion originally granted to the chair of Peter by “the pious emperor Constantine.”

The expressions used by the pope to denote the extent of this supposed donation are not free from uncertainty and ambiguity. The endowment of “supreme power over all the region of the West,” alleged to have been granted by Constantine the Great, must have comprehended much more than the territories conveyed by the deeds of Pepin and Charlemagne. It is therefore insinuated that, though those princes had dealt liberally by the church, they would, notwithstanding, not have done their whole duty until they should have given possession of all that had been comprised in the original deed of gift. Charlemagne, it seems, was to consider himself as the mere executor of his predecessor Constantine the Great; and in that character it is obvious he must stand in a position of far less observance than as the spontaneous patron and benefactor.

The fictitious donation was presented to him as absolute in its terms; therefore as at once discharging the estate conveyed in the execution of its provisions from all dues, duties, and conditions whatsoever, claimable by the hand through which it passed to the rightful owner. It was significantly hinted that his past services were held by the pope to merge in his obligations for the future; that he should think less of the benefits he had conferred than of the duties he might rightfully be called upon to perform; and that, as long as a single item of the infinite debt entailed upon him by his[560] great testator remained unpaid, he must consider himself as debtor to God and St. Peter for the whole.

It would be hardly fair to presume that the impudent forgery, afterwards known by the title of the Donation of Constantine, had as yet found its appropriate niche in the archives of the Lateran, or that it was included among the documents which the pope instructed his envoys to produce to Charlemagne. But among the multitude of eager searchers, the thing wanted is generally near enough at hand for the purposes of the less scrupulous among the number. In the reign of Pope Adrian I the desire for territorial acquisition had been stimulated by success to a degree of intensity scarcely paralleled in the history of secular ambition. In such a disposition, a feather-light tradition might stand as good ground for the most extravagant claims; and the fabrication of the outward proof of what was already registered in men’s minds as accredited fact, might appear as a mere venial condescension to the natural adhesion of mankind to the usual and customary modes of proof.

The transient visit of Charlemagne to Italy in the year 776 appears for the moment to have dissipated the apprehensions of the pope. Four years later an interval of peace on his Saxon frontier and the temporary submission of his turbulent vassal Tassilo of Bavaria left Charlemagne at leisure to disentangle by his presence the ravelled state of Italian affairs. He was probably anxious to acquaint himself personally with the causes of the existing disorders, as well as to obtain an explanation of the interruption in the harmony of his correspondence with the pope, whom he sincerely honoured and was well disposed to support. The critical state, however, of the coasts and frontiers, as depicted to him by Adrian, appears to have made no serious impression. No military preparations were thought necessary; and in the[561] winter of the year 780, Charlemagne, accompanied by his consort Hildegard, his two infant sons Carloman and Louis, and escorted by no other force than his ordinary household troops and followers, crossed the Alps into Italy. The annalists of the age describe the expedition as a visit of devotion.

CHARLEMAGNE’S THIRD AND FOURTH ENTRANCES INTO ITALY

In the spring of the year 781 Charlemagne arrived for the third time in Rome, where he celebrated the great festival of Easter. Pope Adrian upon this occasion conferred the right of baptism on the two young princes, changing the name of the elder from that of Carloman to Pepin, in honour of his grandfather; and at the same moment he crowned the elder “king of the Lombards,” and the younger (Louis) king of Aquitaine. The honour was accepted, probably solicited, by the king without any misgiving as to the inferences that might thereafter be drawn from this or past condescendencies of the like character. Charlemagne never scrupled to make use of church or pontiff for the accomplishment of his political purposes; and he now called upon Adrian to support the remonstrances he thought it necessary to address to his nephew Tassilo by the aid of his spiritual authority.

Charlemagne could not but acknowledge that he had been greatly indebted to the exertions of the churchmen for the pacification of his Saxon acquisitions; and in requital of this co-operation he was not inclined to deny to his spiritual allies an important share in the profits of victory. But the consciousness of present power shut out any sinister view to the future. The church was, after all, in his hands no more than an instrument for the accomplishment of his purposes; that she should ever become his mistress was remote from his contemplation; and it is not to be wondered at that he should have identified her interests with those of his government in that spirit of gratitude which might in the sequel be made to wear an aspect of homage very conducive to the progress of hierarchical pretension.

Both parties were in the main inclined to regard each other as the means and instruments for the promotion of their separate interests. But the absence of any real reciprocity in the terms of compact could not but very soon become apparent. No temporal benefit could be conferred by the pope commensurate with the sacrifices the monarch was incessantly called upon to make to the insatiate craving of the holy see for those substantial augmentations, that costly support, that burdensome protection, to which he was held to have pledged himself. Such an understanding could last no longer than while either or both parties were actuated rather by religious than by merely selfish motives. The views of Pope Adrian had nothing of a properly religious character in them; his correspondence is but an echo of the one shrill cry for “more.” “Give, grant, endow, restore, and the blessed Peter shall surely send you victory and prosperity.” This is the burden of the papal addresses from the birth to the consummation of the alliance. A certain coincidence of interests, supported upon the religious and loyal character of Charlemagne, had hitherto cemented the union; but, though the result might be overlooked, it is clear that as soon as those interests should diverge or cease to exist, there remained nothing behind to prevent them from falling into irreconcilable opposition. Even within this period of apparent concord and cordiality some symptoms of such a divergency may be detected.

In the year 786 Charlemagne paid a fourth visit to Rome; and after performing the customary devotional exercises at the principal shrines and[562] churches, he applied himself to the task of reducing the refractory duke of Benevento to obedience. An accommodation was easily accomplished; Charlemagne accepted the renewed oaths of allegiance of the duke and his vassals, and carried away with him Grimwald (Grimoald), the second son of Arichis (Arighis), as a pledge for the future obedience of the duke and his subjects. No notice was taken of the papal claim upon the territory of Benevento; and Pope Adrian once more saw his royal patron depart without obtaining the object nearest to his heart. During the remainder of his pontificate we trace no further attempt on the part of the pope to realise his favourite project of aggrandisement. The momentary coolness which had followed the defeat of the Calabrian Greeks produced no real estrangement between him and his great patron; and Adrian died (795) in the full enjoyment of the confidence and esteem of Charlemagne.

THE REALM OF THE POPES

At the close of the reign of Charlemagne the possessions of the church of Rome may thus be identified with existing geographical divisions: (1) In virtue of right, or pretension of right, originating prior to the donation of Pepin, the pontiffs exercised temporal jurisdiction over the city and duchy of Rome as it had existed under the Byzantine supremacy, comprehending, as nearly as may now be ascertained, the modern district emphatically known by the name of the “Patrimony Proper,” together with the greatest portion if not the whole of the Campagna di Roma as far south as Terracina. (2) By the donations of Pepin and Charlemagne the church of Rome had reduced into possession the city and exarchate of Ravenna, comprising the modern legations of Bologna, Romagna, Urbino, and Ferrara, with the duchies of Parma and Modena and a portion of the Venetian terra-firma on the mouths of the Po.

But these extensive tracts of country were regarded by the popes as but a portion of their claim under the treaties of Pontyon and Quierzy and the donation of Charlemagne. That claim extended over the islands of Corsica and Sardinia, the entire duchies of Benevento and Spoleto, and all the remaining dependencies of the Byzantines in southern Italy, including both Calabrias and the adjacent island of Sicily; thus constituting in the aggregate nearly the whole of Italy south of the river Po, ranging thence along the eastern declivity of the Apennines as far as the southernmost confine of the modern grand duchy of Tuscany, and thence expanding over the breadth of the peninsula to the extreme coasts, embracing all the greater adjoining islands and the territory of Istria on the northeastern shores of the Adriatic Sea. Pope Adrian I died on the 26th of December in the year 795, after the unusually long pontificate of twenty-three years and upwards. When Charlemagne heard of his demise, we are told that he wept for him as for a brother.

On the occasion of Charlemagne’s first visit to Rome (774), Pope Adrian conferred upon him the title and dignity of patrician, or official advocate and protector of the holy see. When shortly after the death of that pontiff in the year 795, Leo, archpriest of the church of St. Susanna, was elected to the vacant chair by the title of Leo III, the new pope hastened to renew the patent of the patriciate, as if it were an office expiring with the life of the grantor. As matters stood at this moment between him and the king, it is safest to conclude that the pope desired that the royal patrician should regard himself as captain-general of the church, and that he should in that capacity be entitled to the military services of its subjects, when called on by the church[563] to interfere for the protection of her temporal rights. But the act of Pope Leo III, which placed his subjects under military obligation to a stranger, was calculated to engender grave misunderstandings. The feudal principle, now rapidly unfolding itself in the European polity, drew no distinction between civil and military subjection; and the oath of the Romans to the protector might be easily confounded with that of subject to sovereign.

The constitutional or political powers exercised at this period by the pontiffs within the city and territory of the church are very obscurely indicated in the documents of the age. From what we discern on the surface of history, no very well-defined relation subsisted between the so-called “republic of Rome” and the spiritual ruler. The bond which connected them, as far as, at this distance of time and with such defective information, we can discern, was the recognised participation of the richer and more powerful families in all the offices of government and the dignities and emoluments of ecclesiastical promotion. But by such an arrangement it is obvious that every just limit between spiritual and temporal interests must be speedily obliterated; the result was verified in the unutterable corruptions of the tenth and eleventh centuries. Even at this point of time, and for a long series of years past, many symptoms of a vicious and demoralising relation between the constituents of the Roman state are apparent.

In the fifth year of the pontificate of Leo III two relatives of Pope Adrian I, Paschal the primicerius and Campulus the sacellarius of the holy see, conspired to depose the reigning pontiff. After suffering some personal injuries at the hands of his rebellious subjects, Leo was expelled from the city; and he resolved to solicit redress in person at the court of Charlemagne, who was at that moment sojourning at Paderborn, within the confines of the vanquished Saxons. The king received the suppliant pontiff with the highest honours, and listened to his complaints with the profoundest attention. Of the special subjects of the conference we are not informed; but in the autumn of the year 799 Leo returned to Rome under an escort sufficiently strong to insure his personal safety. In the interim, the faction opposed to him had lost ground, and he was received by the citizens with unusual tokens of joy and affection.

Pope Leo was, as it appears, accompanied to Rome by two German prelates, Hildebrand archbishop of Cologne, and Arno archbishop of Salzburg, as missi dominici, or royal commissioners, charged to make due inquisition into the offences imputed to the pope by his adversaries. The prelates are said to have examined the evidence on both sides with great care and minuteness, and at the close of it to have come to the conclusion that nothing criminal had been established against the pope; upon which decision his rebellious accusers were taken into custody and carried away to France.

THE TRIAL OF THE POPE AND THE CROWNING OF CHARLEMAGNE

Within the twelvemonth of the reinstatement of the pope, Charlemagne held a great diet of the realm at Mainz. “There,” says the annalist,m “he assembled his great nobles, his bishops, and his abbots all; and having reported to them that there was now peace in all his borders, he called to their minds the evils which the Romans had done to the apostolic Leo; and he set his face to go into the parts of Rome, and thither he accordingly proceeded.” This simple notice of the annalist of Moissac is the only passage in any original chronicle in which a motive for this fifth expedition of[564] Charlemagne to Rome is assigned. The king arrived at the gates of the city on the 24th of November, 800, and was received by the pontiff under the porch of St. Peter’s church, outside the walls, with all due devotion and honour. Seven days afterwards a solemn assembly of the citizens was convoked, at which the king acquainted them with the cause of his visit.

His next proceeding is not very intelligible. He assembled, we are told, a solemn synod, still in the basilica of St. Peter, to inquire into the crimes imputed to the pope; but whether the old or fresh inculpations is not said. On this occasion the king and the pope sat beside each other, surrounded by the nobility, the bishops, and the abbots of France and Italy. The spiritual lords alone were seated; the inferior priests and the laity of all ranks remained standing. Proclamation was then made for the accusers to come forward and make their complaint; but no one answered to the call. It is not apparent why this formality should have been observed at all, inasmuch as the clergy had unanimously declared themselves incompetent to sit in judgment upon a pontiff of the holy see. The pope, however, intimated his intention to purge himself of all the offences laid to his charge in the form established in like cases by his predecessors. On the following day, therefore, he in full synod took the books of the Gospels in his hands, and upon them he solemnly protested his innocence; whereupon “the prelates and all the clergy burst simultaneously into a hymn of thanksgiving, devoutly praising God, the holy Virgin, St. Peter, and all the saints.”

Within the first month of the residence of Charlemagne in Rome nothing took place indicative of any ulterior purpose. During all that time the king had appeared to be absorbed in regulating the political affairs of the church and city. But on Christmas Day of the year 800, while he and the pope devoutly knelt together at the altar of St. Peter’s church, engaged in the preliminary prayer before mass, the pontiff, as if moved by a sudden impulse of inspiration, placed upon his head an elaborately wrought and very costly imperial crown. At the same time the people, as if prepared for the incident, simultaneously and as with one voice exclaimed, “Long life to Charles, augustus, the great and peace-giving emperor of the Romans, whom the hand of God hath crowned!” The salutation was twice repeated; after which, according to imperial custom, he was enthroned and anointed with holy oil, and worshipped by the pope. “Whereby,” says the annalist,m “he was unanimously constituted emperor; and dropping the title of patrician, he was thenceforth called ‘imperator augustus.’”

Whether the crown was placed on his head with or without his consent, the mode of conferring it was intended to imply that the king was a passive party, that he accepted it as a boon or gift at the hands of the pope without claim or pretence of right on his own part. The material crown itself was of papal procurement and fabrication; the act of coronation was that of the pontiff; he gave the crown, the Roman people ratified the act and proclaimed the emperor. The transaction bears the character of a joint act, in which Leo and the Romans performed the part of spontaneous electors and sovereign depositaries of imperial power. The adoration was a simple ceremony of recognition; it was unaccompanied with any new oath of allegiance; the rights of the new emperor still resting upon the oath of obedience to him as patrician. Ultimately the participation of the people was no doubt considered as wholly accessory to the papal decision; and the pope might well hold himself out to the world as the sole depositary and dispenser of imperial authority. Upon this ground, indeed, the papacy cast anchor, and for all future ages held on with amazing pertinacity and success.

[565]

On the other hand, Charlemagne and his subjects did not concern themselves with any curious inquiry into the origin of the powers which the imperial crown brought along with it. Yet, in conformity with their general notion of government, they believed that Rome and her pontiff had taken upon them the relation of subjects to the emperor whom they had crowned and anointed. It is certain that Charlemagne regarded himself as the sovereign of Rome, if not of the pope; he was emperor in his own right as fully as if he had placed the crown upon his own head. In conformity with the opinion and practice of his age, he grounded that right upon possession. In the mind of the warrior there was no place for any other derivation of title; and Charlemagne and his successors took as little distinction between the possession and the sovereignty of Rome and its appurtenant territories as they did in the case of his newly acquired dominions in Germany, Lombardy, or Spain.

A few days after the coronation of Charlemagne, he directed the persons implicated in the plot of the preceding year against the life and government of the pope to be brought before him for judgment; and, as supreme judge, he condemned them to the death of traitors. This exercise of supreme criminal judicature indicates at least the assumption of a power understood in that age to be a distinguishing attribute of sovereign authority. The condemned criminals were indeed respited at the intercession of the pope, and their punishment was commuted for exile; but nothing occurred to indicate any jealous feeling on the part of the pontiff; and throughout the winter of the year 801 Charlemagne continued to exercise every prerogative of imperial power in Rome with as free a hand as when he set up his migratory throne upon the banks of the Seine, the Rhine, or the Elbe.

In the year 806 he executed a provisional settlement of the succession to his vast dominions among his then surviving sons. During the whole course of his life Charlemagne was anxious to invest his more important acts with the sanction of religion. The settlement of 806, though provisional only, was solemnly enacted and sworn to by his sons and the estates of the realm assembled in diet at Thionville; and was soon afterwards sent by the hand of the emperor’s secretary to Rome for the approval and signature of the pope—a step which lay open to a construction probably far beyond the intent of Charlemagne.d

PAPAL AMBITION AFTER CHARLEMAGNE

Almost immediately after Charlemagne’s death, Leo assumed to himself a degree of authority which could not be exercised without equal injury to the state and to the sacerdotal character. Stephen IV, his successor, took the oath of allegiance, together with the whole of the people, as soon as he ascended the pontifical throne; and announced to the monarch, Louis the Pious, that he would attend him at whatever place he should appoint. But the Christian meekness of the pontiff was exceeded by that of the sovereign, who, on receiving his visit at Rheims, prostrated himself three times at his feet. There is evidence, however, to prove that it still required a man of equally powerful and ambitious mind to take full advantage of the means of aggrandisement afforded by the present position of the church. During the short reigns of several successive popes, we see the power of the emperor distinctly at work, and his right acknowledged, in the management of ecclesiastical affairs.

[566]

In the year 824, and under the pontificate of Eugenius I, Louis sent his son Lothair to Rome, to inquire into the truth of the complaints made by the citizens against their sacerdotal chiefs; and when Gregory IV visited France, for the purpose of effecting a reconciliation between Louis and his son, the bishops of France, whom he appears to have threatened with his censures, proudly dared him to a trial of his power, by informing him that if he did aught against the canons, he should himself be excommunicated or deposed. The pernicious counsel of one of his advisers taught him to answer this intimation by fresh assertions of authority, and he dared to commence the practice, which subsequently proved such a fruitful source of disorder and scandal in Christendom, of declaring the sovereign deposed because of his quarrel with the ruler of the Roman church. The emperor Lothair was sufficiently tenacious of his authority to issue especial orders, on the election of Sergius II without his being consulted, that for the future no candidate for the papal throne should be consecrated till he had given his assent to the election.

In the midst of these events, the victorious Saracens were pursuing their conquests over the most fertile provinces of Europe, Asia, and Africa. While Calabria was overrun by one division of the Saracens, Rome itself was threatened by another. In vain did the terrified Romans look to the descendants of Charlemagne for help; in vain did they proffer again their broken allegiance to the emperor of the East. Neither the one nor the other was in a condition to render the required assistance, and the city appeared doomed to destruction.[567] The venerable churches of St. Peter and St. Paul, which inspired a feeling of devotion by their antiquity, and of wonder by the magnificence of their shrines, were situated a short distance from the walls; and the unfortunate citizens witnessed from the ramparts the spoliation of these, the most sacred of their temples, without the means of making a single effort for their defence. But the rage produced by this spectacle, combined with the terror with which the entrance of the enemy into the city was contemplated, roused them to attempt some measure of resistance. The death of Sergius just at this juncture greatly contributed to promote their success. In electing Leo IV to the vacant office, they provided themselves with a skilful counsellor and an energetic leader. The invader, after various assaults, was obliged to retreat, in order to make the conquest of places less skilfully defended.

The death of Leo was succeeded by much confusion, and in this period of excitement and difficulty, the vacant chair was said to have been ascended by a woman, the celebrated papess Joan.c

THE MYTH OF THE WOMAN POPE

Joan was the name given to a female pope, now regarded as a fictitious personage, who under the title of John VII or VIII was said, according to the most general accounts, to have occupied the papal chair between the pontificate of Leo IV and Benedict III, although various other dates are given. Tradition represents her as of English descent, but born in Ingelheim or Mainz. By some her original name is given as Gilberta, by others as Agnes. She was credited with having fallen in love with a young Benedictine monk, and with having on that account assumed the male monastic habit and lived for some time in the monastery of Fulda. Her lover, it is affirmed, died while they were pursuing their studies together at Athens, and after his death she went to Rome, where, according to the most approved version of the story, she became a very successful professor. So high indeed became her reputation for piety and learning that the cardinals with one consent elected the supposed young monk the successor of Pope Leo IV. In this position she comported herself so as to entirely justify their choice, until the catastrophe of giving birth to a male child during a procession to the Lateran palace suddenly and irrevocably blasted her reputation. She is said to have died in childbirth or to have been stoned to death.

The story of the pontificate of Joan was received as fact from the thirteenth to the fifteenth century, but it has been discredited by later researches. The circumstantial evidence around which it clung, and which may have aided in suggesting it, was the observance of a circuit by the papal processions so as to avoid passing through a certain street (a statue at one time standing in that street, said to represent a woman and child, with a monumental stone near it having a peculiar inscription), and the use of a pierced seat at the enthronement of the popes. Of these facts other and more credible explanations have, however, been given, although there is no sufficient evidence to demonstrate beyond dispute the manner in which the story originated. According to Dr. Döllinger,e the tradition finds no support in the original text either of Marianus Scotus,n Sigebert of Gemblours,o or Otto of Freysing.p She is first mentioned by Stephen de Bourbon,q who died in 1261, and who took his information probably from the chronicle of the Dominican Jean de Mailly, no copy of which is now known to be in existence.[568] The story is not found in any of the original manuscripts of Martinus Polus,r and according to Döllinger was interpolated in that chronicle some time between 1278 and 1312. He attributes the propagation of the myth chiefly to its insertion in Martinus Polus, from which it was copied into the Flores Temporum, a chronicle founded on Martinus, and its real originators he supposes to have been the Dominicans and Minorites, who had a grudge against the papacy on account of the persecutions they were experiencing at the hands of Benedict VIII. So rapidly did the tradition spread that in 1400 a bust of the papess was placed in the cathedral of Siena along with other popes, having the inscription, “John VIII, a woman from England.” The statue occupied this position till the beginning of the seventeenth century.f

The eight years of Leo’s papacy were chiefly occupied in strengthening, in restoring the plundered and desecrated churches of the two apostles, and adorning Rome. The succession to Leo IV was contested between Benedict III, who commanded the suffrages of the clergy and people, and Anastasius, who, at the head of an armed faction, seized the Lateran, stripped Benedict of his pontifical robes, and awaited the confirmation of his violent usurpation by the imperial legates, whose influence he thought that he had secured. But these commissioners, after strict investigation, decided in favour of Benedict. Anastasius was expelled with disgrace from the Lateran, his rival consecrated in the presence of the emperor’s representatives. Anastasius, with unwonted mercy, was only degraded to lay communion. The pontificate of Benedict III is memorable chiefly for the commencement of the long strife between Ignatius and Photius for the see of Constantinople. This strife ended in the permanent schism between the Eastern and Western churches.

Nicholas I, the successor of Benedict, was chosen rather by the favour of the emperor Louis and his nobles than that of the clergy (858). He has been thought worthy to share the appellation of the Great with Leo I, with Gregory I, with Hildebrand, and with Innocent III. At least three great events signalised the pontificate of Nicholas I—the strife of Photius with Ignatius for the archiepiscopal throne of Constantinople; the prohibition of the divorce of King Lothair from his queen Theutberga; and the humiliation of the great prelates on the Rhine, the successful assertion of the papal supremacy even over Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims. In the first two of these momentous questions, the contest about the see of Constantinople, and that of Lothair, king of Lorraine, with his wife Theutberga, Nicholas took his stand on the great eternal principles of justice, humanity, and sound morals. These were no questions of abstruse and subtle theology nor the assertion of dubious rights. In both cases the pope was the protector of the feeble and the oppressed, the victims of calumny and of cruelty. The bishop of Constantinople, unjustly deposed, persecuted, exiled, treated with the worst inhumanity, implored the judgment of the head of western Christendom. A queen, not only deserted by a weak and cruel husband, but wickedly and falsely criminated by a council of bishops, obtained a hearing at the court of Rome; her innocence was vindicated, her accusers punished, the king himself compelled to bow before the majesty of justice, made more venerable by religion. If in both cases the language of Nicholas was haughty and imperious, it was justified to the ears of men by the goodness of his cause. The lofty supremacy which he asserted over the see of Byzantium awoke no jealousy, being exerted in behalf of a blameless and injured prelate. If he treated the royal dignity of France with contempt, it had already become[569] contemptible in the eyes of mankind; if he annulled by his own authority the decree of a national council, composed of the most distinguished prelates of Gaul, that council had already been condemned by all who had natural sympathies with justice and with innocence. Yet, though in both cases Nicholas displayed equal ability and resolution in the cause of right, the event of the two affairs was very different. The dispute concerning the patriarchate of Constantinople ended in the estrangement, the alienation, the final schism between the East and West. It was the last time that the pope was permitted authoritatively to interfere in the ecclesiastical affairs of the East. The excommunication of the Greek by the Latin church was the final act of separation. In the West Nicholas established a precedent for control even over the private morals of princes. The vices of kings, especially those of France, became the stronghold of papal influence; injured queens and subjects knew to what quarter they might recur for justice or for revenge. And on this occasion the pope brought not only the impotent king, but the powerful clergy of Lorraine, beneath his feet. The great bishops of Cologne and of Trèves were reduced to abject humiliation.

RIVALRY OF NICHOLAS AND PHOTIUS

The contention for the patriarchate of Constantinople was, strictly speaking, no religious controversy—it was the result of political intrigue and personal animosity. Ignatius, who became the patriarch, was of imperial descent. In the revolution which dethroned his father, Michael Rhangabé, he had taken refuge, under the cowl of a monk, from the jealousy of Leo the Armenian. Photius was chosen as his successor. Rival councils met, and the two patriarchs were alternately excommunicated by the adverse spiritual factions.

Photius was the first to determine on an appeal to Rome. The pope, he thought, would hardly resist the acknowledgment of his superiority, with the tempting promise of the total extirpation of the hated iconoclasts. Not merely did the pope address two lofty and condemnatory letters to the emperor and to Photius, but a third also to “the faithful in the East,” at the close of which he made known to the three Eastern patriarchs his steadfast resolution to maintain the cause of Ignatius, to refuse the recognition of the usurper Photius. The restoration of Ignatius was commanded even in more imperious language, and under more awful sanctions. “We, by the power committed to us by our Lord through St. Peter, restore our brother Ignatius to his former station, to his see, to his dignity as patriarch, and to all the honours of his office. Whoever, after the promulgation of this decree, shall presume to disturb him in the exercise of his office, separate from his communion, or dare to judge him anew, without the consent of the apostolic see, if a clerk, shall share the eternal punishment of the traitor Judas; if a layman, he has incurred the malediction of Canaan; he is excommunicate, and will suffer the same fearful sentence from the eternal Judge.”

Never had the power of the clergy or the supremacy of Rome been asserted so distinctly, so inflexibly. The privileges of Rome were eternal, immutable, anterior to, derived from no synod or council, but granted directly by God himself; they might be assailed, but not transferred; torn off for a time, but not plucked up by the roots. An appeal was open to Rome from all the world, from her authority lay no appeal. The emperor and Constantinople paid no regard to these terrible anathemas of the pope.

[570]

SYNOD AT CONSTANTINOPLE

In the year 867 Photius had summoned a council at Constantinople; the obsequious prelates listened to the arraignment, and joined in the counter excommunication of Pope Nicholas. Photius drew up eight articles inculpating in one the faith, in the rest the departure, of the see of Rome from ancient and canonical discipline. Among the dreadful acts of heresy and schism which were to divide forever the churches of the East and West were: (1) the observance of Saturday as a fast; (2) the permission to eat milk or cheese during Lent; (4) the restriction of the chrism to the bishops; (6) the promotion of deacons at once to the episcopal dignity; (7) the consecration of a lamb, according to the hated Jewish usage; (8) the shaving of their beards by the clergy. The fifth only of the articles objected to by Photius, the procession of the Holy Ghost from the Father and the Son, was an error so awful as to deserve a thousand anathemas. The third, condemning the enforced celibacy of the clergy, was alone of high moral or religious importance. “From this usage we see in the West,” says Photius, “so many children who know not their fathers.” These, however, were but the pretexts for division. The cause lay deeper, in the total denial of the papal supremacy by the Greeks; their unequivocal assertion that with the empire that supremacy had passed to Constantinople.

The decree of the council boasted the signature of the emperor (obtained, it was said, in an hour of drunkenness); of Basil the Macedonian, averred (most improbably) to have been forged; of the three eastern patriarchs; of the senate and the great officers; of abbots and bishops to the number of nearly one thousand. But the episcopal messenger who was to bear to Rome this defiance of the church of Constantinople and the counter-excommunication of the pope, had proceeded but a short way on his journey when he was stopped by the orders of the new emperor. A revolution in the palace was a revolution in the church of Constantinople. The first act of Basil the Macedonian was to depose Photius. Photius is said to have refused the communion to the murderer Basil. From this time a succession of changes agitated the empire; Photius rose or fell at each successive change.

Leo the Philosopher, the son of Basil, once more ignominiously expelled him from his throne. Yet, though accused of treason, Photius was acquitted and withdrew into honoured retirement. He did not live to witness or profit by another revolution. Though the schism of thirty years, properly speaking, expired in his person, and again a kind of approximation to Rome took place, yet the links were broken which united the two churches. The articles of difference, from which neither would depart, had been defined and hardened into rigid dogmas. During the dark times of the papacy which followed the disruption, even the intercourse became more and more precarious. The popes of the next century were too busy in defending their territories or their lives to regard the affairs of the East. The darkness which gathered round both churches shrouded them from each other’s sight.

Nicholas the Great had not lived to triumph even in the first fall of Photius. In the West his success was more complete; he had the full enjoyment of conscious power exercised in a righteous cause. Not merely did he behold one of Charlemagne’s successors prostrate at his feet, obliged to abandon to papal censure and to degradation even his high ecclesiastical partisans, but in succession the greatest prelates of the West, the archbishop of Ravenna, the archbishops of Cologne and Trèves, and even Hincmar, the archbishop[571] of Rheims, who seemed to rule despotically over the church and kingdom of France, were forced to bow before his vigorous supremacy.

The matrimonial cause which for many years distracted part of France, on which council after council met, and on which the great prelates of Lorraine came into direct collision with the pope, and were reduced to complete and unpitied humiliation under his authority, was that of King Lothair and his queen Theutberga, as elsewhere described. He threatened the king with immediate excommunication if he did not dismiss the concubine Waldrada, and receive his repudiated queen. He then betook himself to Attigny, the residence of Charles the Bald. He peremptorily commanded the restoration of the bishop Rothrad, who had been canonically, as it was asserted, deposed by Hincmar his metropolitan, and was now irregularly, without inquiry or examination, replaced by the arbitrary mandate of the pope. Hincmar murmured and obeyed; the trembling king acquiesced in the papal decree.

But Nicholas did not live to enjoy his perfect triumph; he died in November, 867 A.D.—a pontiff who, if he advanced no absolutely unexampled pretensions to supremacy in behalf of the Roman see, yet, by the favourable juncture and auspicious circumstances which he seized to assert and maintain that authority, did more than all his predecessors to strengthen and confirm it. During all his conflicts in the West with the royal and with the episcopal power, the moral and religious sympathies of mankind could not but be on his side. If his language was occasionally more violent, even contemptuous, than became the moderation which, up to this time, had mitigated the papal decrees, he might plead lofty and righteous indignation; if he interfered with domestic relations, it was in defence of the innocent and defenceless, and in vindication of the sanctity of marriage; if he treated kings with scorn, it was because they had become contemptible for their weakness or their vices; if he interfered with episcopal or metropolitan jurisdiction, the inferior clergy, even bishops, would be pleased to have a remote, and possibly disinterested tribunal, to which they might appeal from prelates, chosen only from aristocratic connections, barbarians in occupation and in ferocity; if he was inexorable to transgressors, it was to those of the highest order, prelates who had lent themselves to injustice and iniquity, and had defied his power; if he annulled councils, those councils had already been condemned for their injustice, had deserved the reproachful appellation with which they were branded by the pope, with all who had any innate or unperverted sentiment of justice and purity. Hence the presumptuous usurpation even of divine power, so long as it was thus beneficently used, awed, confounded all, and offended few. Men took no alarm at the arrogance which befriended them against the oppressor and the tyrant.

But this vast moral advancement of the popedom was not all which the Roman see owes to Nicholas I; she owes the questionable boon of the recognition of the False Decretals as the law of the church.

THE FALSE DECRETALS

Nicholas I not only saw during his pontificate the famous False Decretals take their place in the jurisprudence of Latin Christendom; if he did not promulgate, he assumed them as authentic documents; he gave them the weight of the papal sanction; and with their aid prostrated at his feet the one great transalpine prelate who could still maintain the independence of the Teutonic church, Hincmar archbishop of Rheims.

[572]

Up to this period the decretals, the letters or edicts of the bishops of Rome, according to the authorised or common collection of Dionysius, commenced with Pope Siricius, towards the close of the fourth century. To the collection of Dionysius was added that of the authentic councils, which bore the name of Isidore of Seville. On a sudden was promulgated, unannounced, without preparation, not absolutely unquestioned, but apparently overawing at once all doubt, a new code, which to the former authentic documents added fifty-nine letters and decrees of the twenty oldest popes from Clement to Melchiades (Miltiades), and the donation of Constantine; and in the third part, among the decrees of the popes and of the councils from Silvester to Gregory II, thirty-nine false decrees, and the acts of several unauthentic councils. In this vast manual of sacerdotal Christianity the popes appear from the first the parents, guardians, legislators of the faith throughout the world. The False Decretals do not merely assert the supremacy of the popes—the dignity and privileges of the bishop of Rome—they comprehend the whole dogmatic system and discipline of the church, the whole hierarchy from the highest to the lowest degree, their sanctity, and immunities, their persecutions, their disputes, their right of appeal to Rome.

But for the too manifest design, the aggrandisement of the see of Rome and the aggrandisement of the whole clergy in subordination to the see of Rome; but for the monstrous ignorance of history, which betrays itself in glaring anachronisms, and in the utter confusion of the order of events and the lives of distinguished men—the former awakening keen and jealous suspicion, the latter making the detection of the spuriousness of the whole easy, clear, irrefragable—the False Decretals might still have maintained their place in ecclesiastical history. They are now given up by all; not a voice is raised in their favour; the utmost that is done by those who cannot suppress all regret at their explosion, is to palliate the guilt of the forger, to call in question or to weaken the influence which they had in their own day, and throughout the later history of Christianity.

The author or authors of this most audacious and elaborate of pious frauds are unknown; the date and place of its compilation are driven into such narrow limits that they may be determined within a few years, and within a very circumscribed region. The False Decretals came not from Rome; the time of their arrival at Rome, after they were known beyond the Alps, appears almost certain. In one year Nicholas I is apparently ignorant of their existence, the next he speaks of them with full knowledge. They contain words manifestly used at the Council of Paris (829 A.D.), consequently are of later date; they were known to the Levite Benedict of Metz, who composed a supplement to the collection of capitularies by Adgesil, between 840-847 A.D. The city of Metz is designated with nearly equal certainty as the place in which, if not actually composed, they were first promulgated as the canon law of Christendom.

The state of affairs in the divided and distracted empire might seem almost to call for, almost to justify, this desperate effort to strengthen the ecclesiastical power. All the lower clergy, including some of the bishops, were groaning, just at this time, under heavy oppression. By the constitution of Charlemagne, which survived under Louis the Pious, and, so long as the empire maintained its unity, asserted the independence of the transalpine hierarchy of all but the temporal sovereign, the clergy were under strict subordination to the bishop, the bishop to the metropolitan, the metropolitan only to the emperor. Conflicting popes, or popes in conflict with Italian enemies, or with their own subjects, had reduced the papacy to vassalage[573] under the empire. Conflicting kings, on the division of the realm of Charlemagne, had not yet, but were soon about to submit the empire to the Roman supremacy. All at present was anarchy. The Germans and the French were drawing asunder into separate rival nations; the sons of Louis were waging an endless, implacable strife. Almost every year, less than every decade of years, beheld a new partition of the empire; kingdoms rose and fell, took new boundaries, acknowledged new sovereigns; no government was strong enough to maintain the law; might was the only law.

The hierarchy, if not the whole clergy, had taken the lead in the disruption of the unity of the empire; they had abased the throne of Louis; they were for a short disastrous period now the victims of that abasement. Their wealth was their danger. They had become secular princes, they had become nobles, they had become vast landed proprietors. But during the civil wars it was not the persuasive voice, but the strong arm, which had authority; the mitre must bow before the helmet, the crosier before the sword. Not only the domains, the persons of the clergy had lost their sanctity. The persecution and oppression of the church and the clergy had reached a height unknown in former times.

It might occur to the most religious that for the sake of religion; it might occur to those to whom the dignity and interest of the sacerdotal order were their religion, that some effort must be made to reinvest the clergy in their imperilled sanctity. There must be some appeal against this secular, this ecclesiastical tyranny; and whither should appeal be? It could not be to the Scriptures, to the Gospel. It must be to ancient and venerable tradition, to the unrepealed, irrepealable law of the church; to remote and awful Rome. Rome must be proclaimed in an unusual, more emphatic manner, the eternal, immemorial court of appeal. The tradition must not rest on the comparatively recent names of Leo the Great, of Innocent the Great, of Siricius, or the right of appeal depend on the decree of the Council of Sardica. It must come down from the successors of St. Peter himself in unbroken succession. The whole clergy must have a perpetual, indefeasible sanctity of the same antiquity. So may the idea of this, to us it seems, monstrous fiction have dawned upon its author; himself may have implicitly believed that he asserted no prerogative for Rome which Rome herself had not claimed, which he did not think to be her right. It is even now asserted, perhaps can hardly be disproved, that the False Decretals advanced no pretensions in favour of the see of Rome which had not been heard before in some vague and indefinite, but not therefore less significant, language. The boldness of the act was in the[574] new authority in which it arrayed these pretensions. The new code was enshrined, as it were, in a framework of deeply religious thought and language; it was introduced under the venerated name of Isidore of Seville; it was thus attached to the authentic work of Isidore, which had long enjoyed undisputed authority. Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims, as the most powerful, so, perhaps, the most learned transalpine ecclesiastic, who might at once have exposed the fiction, which he could hardly but know to be a fiction, co-operated more than anyone else to establish its authority. So long as he supposed it to advance or confirm his own power, he suppressed all intrusive doubts; he discovered too late that it was a trap (a mousetrap is his own undignified word) to catch unwary metropolitans. Hincmar was caught, beyond all hope of escape. In the appeal of Rothrad, bishop of Soissons, against Hincmar, metropolitan of Rheims, Pope Nicholas I at first alleges no word of the new decretals in favour of his right of appeal; he seemingly knows no older authority than that of Innocent, Leo, Siricius, and the Council of Sardica. The next year not merely is he fully master of the pseudo-Isidorian documents, but he taunts Hincmar with now calling in question, when it makes against him, authority which he was ready to acknowledge in confirmation of his own power. Hincmar is forced to the humiliation of submission. Rothrad, deposed by Hincmar, deposed by the Council of Senlis, is reinstated in his see.

This immediate, if somewhat cautious, adoption of the fiction, unquestionably not the forgery, by Pope Nicholas, appears less capable of charitable palliation than the original invention. Nor did the successors of Nicholas betray any greater scruple in strengthening themselves by this welcome, and therefore only unsuspicious aid. It is impossible to deny that, at least by citing without reserve or hesitation, the Roman pontiffs gave their deliberate sanction to this great historic fraud.

Nor must be overlooked, perhaps, the more important result of the acceptance of the pseudo-Isidorian statutes as the universal, immemorial, irrepealable law of Christendom. It established the great principle which Nicholas I had before announced, of the sole legislative power of the pope. Every one of these papal epistles was a canon of the church; every future bull therefore rested on the same irrefragable authority, commanded the same implicit obedience. The papacy became a legislative as well as an administrative authority. Infallibility was the next inevitable step, if infallibility was not already in the power asserted to have been bestowed by the Lord on St. Peter, by St. Peter handed down in unbroken descent, and in a plenitude which could not be restricted or limited, to his successors.

ADRIAN II

Nicholas was succeeded (November, 867) by Adrian II, a rigid and lofty churchman, who, though his policy at first appeared doubtful, resolutely maintained, but not with equal judgment and success, the principles of his predecessor. Adrian (he was now seventy-five years old) had been married before he became a priest. At the intercession of the emperor Louis, he took off the ban of excommunication from Waldrada, and restored her to the communion of the church. By this lenity he might seem to lure King Lothair to the last act of submission. The king of Lorraine arrived in Italy. The pope seemed to yield to the influence of Louis and the empress Ingelberga; at least he accepted the munificent presents of the king.

[575]

From Monte Cassino, where they first met, Lothair followed the pope to Rome. There, instead of being received as a king, and as one reconciled with the see of Rome, when he entered the church all was silent and vacant; not one of the clergy appeared; he retired to a neighbouring chamber, which was not even swept for his reception. The next day was Sunday, and he hoped to hear the mass chanted before him. The pope refused him this honour. He dined, however, the next day with the pope, and an interchange of presents took place. At length Adrian consented to admit him to the communion.

Pope Adrian seized the occasion of the contest for the kingdom of Lothair to advance still more daring and unprecedented pretensions. But the world was not yet ripe for this broad and naked assertion of secular power by the pope, his claim to interfere in the disposal of kingdoms. Directly he left the strong ground of moral and religious authority, from which his predecessor Nicholas had commanded the world, he encountered insurmountable resistance. With all that remained of just and generous sympathy on their side popes might intermeddle in the domestic relations of kings; they were not permitted as yet to touch the question of royal succession or inheritance. The royal and the episcopal power had quailed before Nicholas; the fulminations of Adrian were treated with contempt or indifference: and Hincmar of Rheims in this quarrel with Adrian regained that independence and ascendency which had been obscured by his temporary submission to Nicholas.

Nicholas I and Adrian II thus, with different success, imperiously dictating to sovereigns, ruling or attempting to rule the higher clergy in foreign countries with a despotic sway, mingling in the political revolutions of Europe, awarding crowns, and adjudging kingly inheritances, might seem the immediate ancestors of Gregory VII, of Innocent III, of Boniface VIII. But the papacy had to undergo a period of gloom and degradation, even of guilt, before it emerged again to its height of power.

The pontificate of John VIII (872) is the turning-point in this gradual, but rapid and almost total change; among its causes were the extinction of the imperial branch of the Carlovingian race and the frequent transference of the empire from one line of sovereigns to another; with the growth of the formidable dukes and counts in Italy, which overshadowed the papal power and reduced the pope himself to the slave or the victim of one of the contending factions. The pope was elected, deposed, imprisoned, murdered. In the wild turbulence of the times not merely the reverence but the sanctity of his character disappeared. He sank to the common level of mortals; and the head of Christendom was as fierce and licentious as the petty princes who surrounded him, out of whose stock he sprang, and whose habits he did not break off when raised to the papal throne.

John VIII, however, still stood on the vantage ground occupied by Nicholas I and Adrian II. He was a Roman by birth. He signalised his pontificate by an act even more imposing than those of his predecessors, the nomination to the empire, which his language represented rather as a grant from the papal authority than as an hereditary dignity; it was a direct gift from heaven, conveyed at the will of the pope. Already there appear indications of a French and German interest contending for the papal influence which grows into more and more decided faction, till the Carlovingian empire is united, soon to be dissolved forever, in the person of Charles the Fat. John VIII adopted the dangerous policy of a partial adherence to France. But the historians are almost unanimous as to the price which[576] Charles was compelled to pay for his imperial crown. He bought the pope, he bought the senators of Rome; he bought, if we might venture to take the words to the letter, St. Peter himself.

The imperial reign of Charles the Bald was short and inglorious. The whole pontificate of John VIII was a long, if at times interrupted, agony of apprehension lest Rome should fall into the hands of the unbeliever. The reign of the late emperor Louis had been almost a continual warfare against the Mohammedans, who had now obtained a firm footing in southern Italy. He had successfully repelled their progress, but at the death of Louis Rome was again in danger of becoming a Mohammedan city. The pope wrote letter after letter in the most urgent and feeling language to Charles the Bald soon after he had invested him with the empire. “If all the trees in the forest,” such is the style of the pope, “were turned into tongues, they could not describe the ravages of these impious pagans; the devout people of God are destroyed by a continual slaughter; he who escapes the fire and the sword is carried as a captive into exile. Cities, castles, and villages are utterly wasted, and without an inhabitant. The bishops are wandering about in beggary, or fly to Rome as the only place of refuge.”

Yet, if possible, even more formidable than the infidels were the petty Christian princes of Italy. “The canker-worm eats what the locust has left.” In many parts of Italy had gradually arisen independent dukedoms; and none of these appear to have felt any religious respect for the pope, some not for Christianity. On the vacancy after the death of Pope Nicholas, Lambert of Spoleto had occupied and pillaged Rome, respecting neither monastery nor church, and carrying off a great number of young females of the highest rank. Adelchis, the duke of Benevento, had dared to seize in that city the sacred person of the emperor Louis. He was only permitted to leave the city after he had taken a solemn oath to Adelchis—an oath in which his wife, his daughter, and all his attendants were compelled to join—that he would neither in his own person nor by any other revenge this act of insolent rebellion. No sooner, however, had Louis reached Ravenna in safety than he sent to the pope to absolve him from his oath. Adrian II, then pope, began to assert that dangerous privilege of absolution from solemn and recorded oaths.

The bishop-duke of Spoleto did not scruple to return to the unhallowed policy of his brother. He entered into a new league with the Saracens, gave them quarters, and actually uniting his troops with theirs, defeated the forces of Benevento, Capua, and Salerno, and opened a free passage for their incursions to the gates of Rome.

The imperial crown was again vacant, and claimed by the conflicting houses of France and Germany. But Carloman, son of Ludwig of Germany, had been acknowledged as king of Italy. Probably as partisans of the German, and to compel the pope to abandon the interest of the French line, to which he adhered with unshaken fidelity, Lambert, duke of Spoleto, that antichrist, as the pope described him, with his adulterous sister, Richildis, and his accomplice, the treacherous Adalbert, count of Tuscany, at the head of an irresistible force, entered Rome, seized and confined the pope, and endeavoured to starve him into concession, and compelled the clergy and the Romans to take an oath of allegiance to Carloman, as king of Italy. For thirty days the religious services were interrupted; not a single lamp burned on the altars.

No sooner had they retired than the pope caused all the sacred treasures to be conveyed from St. Peter’s to the Lateran, covered the altar of St. Peter[577] with sackcloth, closed the doors, and refused to permit the pilgrims from distant lands to approach the shrine. He then fled to Ostia, and embarked for France.

When he reached the shores of Provence, John VIII felt himself in another world. Instead of turbulent and lawless enemies (such were the counts and dukes of Italy) whose rapacity or animosity paid no respect to sacred things, and treated the pope like an ordinary mortal, the whole kingdom of France might seem to throw itself humbly at his feet. No pope was more prodigal of excommunication than John VIII. Of his letters (above three hundred) it is remarkable how large a proportion threaten, inflict, or at least allude to this last exercise of sacerdotal power.

The indefatigable pope returned over the Alps by the Mont Cenis, to Turin and Pavia; but of all whom he had so commandingly exhorted, and so earnestly implored to march for his protection against the Saracens, and no doubt against his Italian enemies, none obeyed but Duke Boson of Provence. The Saracens, in the meantime, courted by all parties, impartially plundered all, made or broke alliances with the same facility with the Christians, while the poor monks, even of St. Benedict’s own foundation, lived in perpetual fear of spoliation. The last days of John VIII were occupied in writing more and more urgent letters for aid to Charles the Fat, in warfare, or providing means of war against his Saracen and Christian foes, or dealing excommunications on all sides; yet facing with gallant resolution the foes of his person and his power. This violent pope is said (but by one writer only) to have come to a violent end; his brains were beaten out with a mallet by some enemy, covetous of his wealth and ambitious of the papal crown.

The short pontificate of Marinus (Marinus I or Martin II) was followed by the still shorter rule of Adrian III, which lasted but fourteen months. That of Stephen V, though not of longer duration, witnessed events of far more importance to the papacy, to Italy, and to Christendom. On the death of Charles the Fat, the ill-cemented edifice of the Carlovingian Empire, the discordant materials of which had reunited, not by natural affinity but almost by the force of accident, dissolved again and forever. The legitimate race of Charlemagne expired in the person of his unworthy descendant, whose name, derived from mere physical bulk, contrasted with the mental greatness, the commanding qualities of military, administrative, and even intellectual superiority which had blended with the name of the first Charles the appellation of the Great.

POPE FORMOSUS

The death of Stephen, September, 891, and the election of Formosus to the papacy, changed the aspect of affairs, and betrayed the hostilities still rankling at Rome. By the election of Formosus was violated the ordinary canonical rule against the translation of bishops from one see to another (Formosus was bishop of Porto), which was still held in some respect. There were yet stronger objections to the election of a bishop who had been excommunicated by a former pontiff, excommunicated as an accomplice in a conspiracy to murder the pope. The excommunicated Formosus had been compelled to take an oath never to resume his episcopal functions, never to return to Rome, and never to presume but to lay communion. The successor of John had granted absolution from these penalties, from this oath.

This election must have been a desperate measure of an unscrupulous faction. Nor was Formosus chosen without a fierce and violent struggle.

[578]

The suffrages of a party among the clergy and people had already fallen upon Sergius. He was actually at the altar preparing for the solemn ceremony of inauguration, when he was torn away by the stronger faction. Formosus, chosen, as his partisans declared, for his superior learning and knowledge of the Scripture, was then invested in the papal dignity.

When Pope Formosus died, May 23rd, 896, the election fell to Boniface VII. The new pontiff laboured under the imputation of having been twice deposed for his profligate and scandalous life, first from the subdiaconate, afterwards from the priesthood. Boniface died of the gout fifteen days after his elevation. The Italian party hastened to the election of Stephen VI.

Probably the German governor had withdrawn before Stephen and his faction proceeded to wreak their vengeance on the lifeless remains of Formosus. Fierce political animosity took the form of ecclesiastical solemnity. The body was disinterred, dressed in the papal habiliments, and, before a council assembled for the purpose, addressed in these words: “Wherefore wert thou, being bishop of Porto, tempted by ambition to usurp the Catholic see of Rome?” The deacon who had been assigned as counsel for the dead maintained a prudent silence. The sacred vestments were then stripped from the body, three of the fingers cut off, the body cast into the Tiber. All who had been ordained by Formosus were reordained by Stephen. Such, however, were the vicissitudes of popular feeling in Rome, that some years after a miracle was said to have asserted the innocence of Formosus. His body was found by fishermen in the Tiber, and carried back for burial in the church of St. Peter. As the coffin passed, all the images in the church reverentially bowed their heads.

The pontificate of Stephen soon came to an end. A new revolution revenged the disinterment of the insulted prelate. And now the fierceness of political rather than religious faction had utterly destroyed all reverence for the sacred person of the pope. Stephen was thrown into prison by his enemies, and strangled. The convenient charge of usurpation, always brought against the popes whom their adversaries dethroned or put to death, may have reconciled their minds to the impious deed, but it is difficult to discover in what respect the title of Pope Stephen VI was defective.

Pope now succeeded pope with such rapidity as to awaken the inevitable suspicion, either that those were chosen who were likely to make a speedy vacancy, or they received but a fatal gift in the pontificate of Rome. Romanus and Theodore II survived their promotion each only a few months. The[579] latter, by his restoration of Formosus to the rights of Christian burial, and by his reversal of the acts of Stephen VI, may be presumed to have belonged to that faction. The next election was contested with all the strength and violence of the adverse parties. John IX was successful; his competitor Sergius, according to some accounts formerly the discomfited competitor of Formosus, and his bitter and implacable enemy, fled to the powerful protection of the marquis of Tuscany. Sergius was excommunicated, with several other priests and inferior clergy, as accessory to the insults against the body of Formosus. Sergius laughed to scorn the thunders of his rival, so long as he was under the protection of the powerful house of Tuscany. With John IX, who died July, 901, closed the ninth century of Christianity; the tenth, in Italy at least the iron age, had already darkened upon Rome; the pontificate had been won by crime and vacated by murder.

This iron age, as it has been called, opened with the pontificate of Benedict IV (900-903), the successor of John IX. The only act recorded of Benedict IV was the coronation of the unfortunate Louis of Provence, the competitor of Berengar for the empire. Louis, according to imperial usage, set up his tribunal and adjudged causes at Rome. On the death of Benedict, the prudent precautions established by John IX to introduce some regularity and control over the anarchy of an election by a clergy rent into factions by a lawless nobility, and still more lawless people, during this utter helplessness and the abeyance, or the strife for the empire between rival princes, fell into utter neglect or impotency. The papacy became the prize of the most active, daring, and violent. Leo V won the prize; before two months he was ejected and thrown into prison by Christopher, one of his own presbyters and chaplains. The same year, or early in the next, Christopher was in his turn ignominiously driven from Rome.

It was under the protection of the powerful Tuscan prince Berengar that the exiled Sergius, at the head of a strong force of Tuscan soldiers, appeared in Rome, deposed Christopher, who had just deposed Leo V, and took possession of the papal throne. Sergius had been seven years an exile in Tuscany; for seven years he ruled as supreme but not undisputed pontiff. This pope has been loaded with every vice and every enormity which can blacken the character of man. Yet as to his reign there is almost total obscurity. The only certain act which has transpired is his restoration of the Lateran palace, which had fallen into ruins; an act which indicates a period of comparative peace and orderly administration, with the command of a large revenue. In these violent times Sergius probably scrupled at no violence; but if he drove a pope from the throne of St. Peter, that pope had just before deposed his patron, and with great cruelty.

THEODORA IN POWER

But during the papacy of Sergius rose into power the infamous Theodora, with her daughters Marozia and Theodora, the prostitutes who, in the strong language of historians, disposed for many years the papal tiara, and not content with disgracing by their own licentious lives the chief city of Christendom, actually placed their profligate paramours or base-born sons in the chair of St. Peter. The influence obtained by Theodora and her daughters, if it shows not the criminal connivance of Pope Sergius, or a still more disgraceful connection with which he was charged by the scandal of the times, proves at least the utter degradation of the papal power in Rome.[580] It had not only lost all commanding authority, but could not even maintain outward decency. Theodora was born of a noble and wealthy senatorial family, on whom she has entailed an infamous immortality. The women of Rome seem at successive periods seized with a kind of Roman ambition to surpass their sex by the greatness of their virtues and of their vices. These females were to the Paulas and Eustochiums of the younger and severer age of Roman Christianity, what the Julias and Messallinas of the empire were to the Volumnias and Cornelias of the republic.

It must be acknowledged that if the stern language of Tacitus and Juvenal may have darkened the vices of the queens and daughters of the cæsars, the bishop of Cremona,s our chief authority on the enormities of Theodora and her daughters, wants the moral dignity, while he is liable to the same suspicion as those great writers. Throughout the lives of the pontiffs themselves we have to balance between the malignant license of satire and the unmeaning phrases of adulatory panegyric. On the other hand it is difficult to decide which is more utterly unchristian—the profound hatred which could invent or accredit such stories; the utter dissoluteness which made them easily believed; or the actual truth of such charges.

Liutprands relates that John, afterwards the tenth pope of that name, being employed in Rome on some ecclesiastical matters by the archbishop of Ravenna, was the paramour of Theodora, who not only allowed but compelled him to her embraces. John was first appointed to the see of Bologna; but the archbishopric of Ravenna, the second ecclesiastical dignity in Italy, falling vacant before he had been consecrated, he was advanced by the same dominant influence to that see. But Theodora bore with impatience the separation of two hundred miles from her lover. Anastasius III had succeeded Sergius (911) and occupied the papacy for rather more than two years; after him Lando for six months (913). On the death of Lando (914) by a more flagrant violation of the canonical rule than that charged against the dead body of Formosus, John was translated from the archiepiscopate of Ravenna to the see of Rome. But Theodora, if she indeed possessed this dictatorial power, and the clergy and people of Rome, if they yielded to her dictation, may have been actuated by nobler and better motives than her gratification of a lustful passion, if not by motives purely Christian. For however the archbishop of Ravenna might be no example of piety or holiness as the spiritual head of Christendom, he appears to have been highly qualified for the secular part of his office. He was a man of ability and daring, eminently wanted at this juncture to save Rome from becoming the prey of Mohammedan conquest, organising a powerful confederacy of neighbouring dukes to accomplish this purpose.

He placed himself at the head of the army, and for the first time the successor of St. Peter, the vicar of the Prince of peace, rode forth in his array to battle. And if success, as it doubtless was, might be interpreted as a manifestation of divine approval, the total discomfiture of the Saracens and the destruction of the troublesome fortress on the Garigliano seemed to sanction this new and unseemly character assumed by the pope. Even the apostles sanctioned or secured by their presence the triumph of the warlike pope.

For fourteen years (914-928), obscure as regards Rome and the pontificate, this powerful prelate occupied the see of Rome. If he gained it (a doubtful charge) by the vices and influence of the mother Theodora, he lost it, together with his life, by the no less flagrant vices and more monstrous power of the daughter Marozia.

[581]

THE INFAMOUS MAROZIA

Theodora disappears; and Pope John X is found engaged in a fierce contest for the mastery of Rome with Marozia and her lover or husband, the marquis Alberic, by whom she had a son of the same name, afterwards tyrant of the city. The vigorous and martial pontiff succeeds in expelling Alberic from the city; Alberic probably met his death soon after (925). It is said that he was murdered by the Romans in revenge for some secret alliance entered into with the Hungarians, who were then wasting Italy, and had reached the very frontiers of Calabria.

The death of her husband increased rather than weakened the power of Marozia. Her personal charms, and her unscrupulous use of them, are said to have multiplied to an infinite extent her adherents. Her paramours made a strong party. The empire was vacant. There was no potentate to whom the pope could appeal. Marozia seized the castle of St. Angelo, and with this precious dowry, which commanded Rome, she sought to confirm her power by some splendid alliance. Guido, the duke of Tuscany, the son of Adalbert the marquis, did not disdain the nuptials with a profligate woman who brought Rome as her marriage portion.

John X was left to contest alone the government of Rome with Marozia and her Tuscan husband. Neither Rome nor the mistress of Rome regarded the real services rendered by John X to Christendom and to Italy. The former lover, as public scandal averred, of her mother, the saviour of Rome from the Saracens, was surprised in the Lateran palace by this daring woman. His brother Peter, as it appears, his great support in the contest for the government of Rome, and therefore the object of peculiar hatred to Guido and Marozia, was killed before his face. The pope was thrown into prison, where some months after he died (929) either of anguish and despair, or by more summary means. It was rumoured that he was smothered with a pillow. No means were too violent for Marozia to employ even against a pope.

Marozia did not venture at once to place her son on the papal throne. A Leo VI was pope for some months; a Stephen VII for two years and one month. That son may as yet have been too young even for this shameless woman to advance him to the highest ecclesiastical dignity; her husband Guido may have had some lingering respect for the sacred office, some struggling feelings of decency. But at the death of Stephen, Marozia again ruled alone in Rome; her husband Guido was dead, and her son was pope. John XI (according to the rumours of the time, of which Liutprand,s a follower of Hugo of Provence, may be accepted as a faithful reporter) was the offspring of Marozia by the pope Sergius; more trustworthy authorities make him the lawful son of her husband Alberic. But the obsequious clergy and people acquiesced without resistance in the commands of their patrician mistress; the son of Marozia is successor of St. Peter.

But the aspiring Marozia, not content with having been the wife of a marquis, the wife of the wealthy and powerful duke of Tuscany, perhaps the mistress of one, certainly the mother of another pope, looked still higher in her lustful ambition; she must wed a monarch. She sent to offer herself and the city of Rome to the new king of Italy, Hugo of Provence, who was not scrupulous in his amours, lawful or unlawful. Through policy or through passion he was always ready to form or to break these tender connections. The cautious Marozia would not allow his army to enter the city, but received her royal bridegroom in the castle of St. Angelo. There was celebrated this unhallowed marriage.

[582]

REBELLION OF ROME

But though the Romans would brook the dominion of a Roman woman, they would not endure that of a foreigner. The coarse vices, the gluttony of the soldiers of Hugo offended the fastidious Italians. The insolence of Hugo himself provoked a rebellion. The nobles were called upon to perform menial offices, usual probably in the half feudal transalpine courts but alien to Italian manners. Alberic, the son of Marozia, was commanded to hold the water in which King Hugo washed his hands. Performing his office awkwardly or reluctantly, he spilled the water, and received a blow on the face from the king. Already may Alberic have been jealous of the promotion of his brother to the popedom, and have resented this devotion of his mother to her new foreign connections. He was a youth of daring; he organised a conspiracy among the nobles of Rome; he appealed to the old Roman pride: “Shall these Burgundians, of old the slaves of Rome, tyrannise over Romans?” At the tolling of the bell the whole people flocked to his banner, and attacked the castle of St. Angelo before Hugo could admit his own troops. Alberic remained master of the castle, of his mother, and of the pope. These two he cast into prison, defied the king of Italy, who made an ignominious retreat, and from that time remained master of Rome.

For four years Pope John XI lingered in fact a prisoner, at least without any share in the government of Rome, only permitted to perform his spiritual functions. Alberic ruled undisturbed. King Hugo attempted to bribe him to the surrender of Rome, by the offer of his daughter in marriage; the more crafty Alberic married the daughter, and retained possession of Rome. After the death of John a succession of popes, appointed, no doubt, by the sole will of Alberic, Leo VII, Stephen IX, Marinus II (or Martin III) Agapetus II, pass over the throne of the popedom, with hardly a sign of their power in Rome, no indication of their dignity, still less of their sanctity. They are still Popes beyond the Alps. Nor was the supreme pontiff alone depressed in these turbulent times. The great ecclesiastics are mingled in most of the treacherous and bloody transactions of the period. Individual energy gave the bishops of the city great power, but as they acted with as little restraint, so these prelates were treated with as little reverence as secular princes.

During the whole reign of Hugo of Provence, notwithstanding the open or treacherous assaults of that king, Alberic, whether as an armed tyrant commanding Rome from the castle of St. Angelo, or as the head of a republic and recognised by the voice of the Roman people, had maintained his authority. He had ruled for twenty-two years; he bequeathed that authority, on his death (953), to his son Octavian.

[583]

POPE JOHN XII

Octavian, though only nineteen years old, aspired to unite, in his own person, the civil and spiritual supremacy. He was already in holy orders; two years after the death of his father Alberic, the pope Agapetus II died; and Octavian, by the voluntary or enforced suffrages of the clergy and the people, was elected pope. He was the first of the Roman pontiffs who changed, or rather took a second ecclesiastical name; the civil government seems to have been conducted in that of Octavian; the church was administered under that of John XII.

In the meantime had arisen in Germany a monarch more powerful than had appeared in Europe since the death of Charlemagne, Otto (Otho) the Great. Otto made some disposition for a visit to Rome to receive the imperial crown from the hands of the pope Agapetus. All Italy looked for the coming of the new Charlemagne. On his appearance resistance vanished. Berengar and Adalbert shut themselves up in their strongest fortresses. It was a triumphal procession to Pavia—to Rome. At Pavia Otto the Great was crowned king of Italy, at Rome the pope anointed him as emperor (962). Thenceforth the king of Germany claimed to be Western emperor. Otto swore to protect the church of Rome against all her enemies, to maintain her rights and privileges, to restore her lands and possessions, when he should have recovered them, and to make no change in the government of Rome without the sanction of the pope. John XII and the Roman people took the oath of allegiance to the emperor; they swore more particularly to abandon all connection with Berengar and his son. The oath was taken on the body of St. Peter.

Yet no sooner had the emperor returned to Pavia, than the perfidious John, finding that he had unwarily introduced a master instead of an obsequious ally, began to enter into correspondence with Adalbert, who, driven from every Italian city, had found refuge with the Saracens. Rumours of this treason reached the emperor. The noble German would not believe the monstrous perfidy; he sent some trustworthy officers to inquire into the truth; they returned with a fearful list of crimes, of license, and cruelty, with which the son of Alberic, who seems entirely to have sunk the character of pope in that of the young, warlike, secular prince, was charged by the unanimous voice of Rome. In July, 963, Otto marched upon the capital; the pontiff had reckoned on the cordial support of the people; they recoiled; the pope and Adalbert fled together from Rome.

TRIAL OF THE POPE

The emperor summoned an ecclesiastical council; it was attended by the archbishops of Aquileia (by deputy), of Milan, of Ravenna, and Hamburg; by two German and two French metropolitans; by a great number of bishops and presbyters from Lombardy, Tuscany, and all parts of Italy. The whole militia of Rome assembled as a guard to the council round the church of St. Peter. The proceedings of the council mark the times. Inquiry was made why the pope was not present. A general cry of astonishment broke forth from the clergy and the people: “The very Iberians, Babylonians, and Indians have heard the monstrous crimes of the pope. He is not a wolf who condescends to sheep’s clothing; his cruelty, his diabolical dealings are open, avowed, disdain concealment.” The calmer[584] justice of the emperor demanded specific charges. The cardinal presbyter rose and declared that he had seen Pope John celebrate mass without himself communicating. Another, that he had ordained a bishop in a stable; that he had taken bribes for the consecration of bishops, and had ordained a bishop of Todi who was but ten years old. “For his sacrileges, all eyes might behold them;” they alluded, probably, to the dilapidation of the churches, which were open to the weather, and so much out of repair that the worshippers could not assemble from fear lest the roofs should fall on their heads.

Darker charges followed, mingled with less heinous, in strange confusion, charges of adultery, incest, with the names of the females, one his father’s concubines, another a widow and her niece; he had made the Lateran palace a brothel; he had been guilty of hunting; charges of cruelty, the blinding of one dignified ecclesiastic, the castrating another, both had died under the operation; he had let loose fire and sword, and appeared himself constantly armed with sword, lance, helmet, and breast-plate. Both ecclesiastics and laymen accused him of drinking wine for the love of the devil; of invoking, when gambling, heathen deities, the devils Jove and Venus. He had perpetually neglected matins and vespers, and never signed himself with the sign of the cross.

The emperor could speak only German; he commanded the bishop of Cremona to address the assembly in Latin. Liutprand warned the council, he adjured them by the blessed Virgin and by St. Peter, not to bring vague accusations, nor such as could not be supported by accredited testimony, against the holy father. Bishops, deacons, clergy, and people with one voice replied, “If we do not prove these and more crimes against the pope, may St. Peter, who holds the keys of heaven, close the gates against us; may we be stricken with anathema, and may the anathema be ratified at the day of judgment!” They appealed to the whole army of Otto, whether they had not seen the pope in full armour on the other side of the Tiber; but for the river he had been taken in that attire.

Letters were sent summoning the pope to answer to these accusations; accusations some of them so obscene that they would have been thought immodest if made against stage-players. If the pope dreaded any assault from the enraged multitude, the emperor answered for the security of his person. The pope’s reply was brief, contemptuous: “John, the servant of God, to all the bishops. We hear that you design to elect a new pope; if you do, in the name of Almighty God, I excommunicate you; and forbid you to confer orders or to celebrate mass!”

Thrice was Pope John cited before the council. Messengers were sent to Tivoli; the answer was, “The pope was gone out to shoot.” Unprecedented evils demand unprecedented remedies. The emperor was urged to expel this new Judas from the seat of the apostle, and to sanction a new election. Leo, the chief secretary of the Roman see, was unanimously chosen, though a layman, in the room of the apostate John XII.

But the army of Otto, a feudal army, and bound to do service for a limited period, began to diminish; part had been injudiciously dispersed on distant enterprises; the Romans, as usual, soon grew weary of a foreign, a German yoke. The emissaries of Pope John watched the opportunity; a furious insurrection of the people broke out against the emperor and his pope. The valour of Otto, who forced the barricades of the bridge over the Tiber, subdued the rebellion (964). He took a terrible revenge. The supplications of Leo with difficulty arrested the carnage. Otto soon after left[585] Rome, and marched towards Camerino (Camerinum) and Spoleto in pursuit of King Adalbert. The king Berengar and his wife Willa were taken in the castle of St. Leo, and sent into Germany.

Hardly, however, had Otto left the city when a new rebellion, organised by the patrician females of Rome, rose on the defenceless Leo, and opened the gates of the city to John. Leo with difficulty escaped to the camp of Otto. The remorseless John re-entered the city, resumed his pontifical state, seized and mutilated the leaders of the imperial party; of one he cut off the right hand, of another the tongue, the nose, and two fingers; in this plight they appeared in the imperial camp. An obsequious synod reversed the decrees of that which had deposed John. The Roman people had now embraced the cause of the son of Alberic with more resolute zeal; for the emperor was compelled to delay till he could reassemble a force powerful enough to undertake the siege of the city. Ere this, however, his own vices had delivered Rome from her champion or her tyrant, Christendom from her worst pontiff. While he was pursuing his amours in a distant part of the city, Pope John XII was struck dead (May 14th, 964), by the hand of God, as the more religious supposed; others, by a more natural cause, the poniard of an injured husband.

But it was a Roman or Italian, perhaps a republican feeling which had latterly attached the citizens to the son of Alberic, not personal love or respect for his pontifical character. They boldly proceeded at once, without regard to the emperor, to the election of a new pope, Benedict V. Otto soon appeared before the walls; he summoned the city, and ordered every Roman who attempted to escape to be mutilated. The republic was forced to surrender. Benedict, the new pope, was brought before the emperor. The cardinal archdeacon, who had adhered to the cause of Leo, demanded by what right he had presumed to usurp the pontifical robes during the life-time of Leo, the lawful pope. “If I have sinned,” said the humbled prelate, “have mercy upon me.” The emperor is said to have wept. Benedict threw himself before the feet of Otto, drew off the sacred pallium, and delivered up his crosier to Leo. Leo broke it, and showed it to the people. Benedict was degraded to the order of deacon and sent into banishment in Germany. He died at Hamburg.

The grateful, or vassal pope, in a council, recognises the full right of the emperor Otto and his successors in the kingdom of Italy, as Adrian that of Charlemagne, to elect his own successors to the empire and to approve the pope. This right was to belong forever to the king of the Roman Empire, and to none else.

Early in the next year the emperor Otto recrossed the Alps. Leo VIII died March, 965, and a deputation from Rome followed the emperor to Germany to solicit the reinstatement of the exiled Benedict to the popedom. But Benedict was dead also. The bishop of Narni (John XIII), with the approbation or by the command of the emperor, was elected to the papacy.

Scarcely had John XIII assumed the pontificate than the barons and the people began to murmur against the haughtiness of the new pontiff. They expelled him from the city with one consent. The prefect Rotfred, not without personal insult to the pope, assumed the government of Rome; for ten months John XIII was an exile from his see, at first a prisoner, afterwards in freedom. From his retreat in Campania he wrote with urgent entreaty to the emperor. Otto made the cause of John his own; for the third time he descended the Alps; the terror of his approach appalled the popular faction. In a counter insurrection in favour of the pope, Rotfred[586] the prefect was killed, and the gates opened to the pontiff; he was received with hymns of joy and gratulation. At Christmas Otto entered Rome; and the emperor and the pope wreaked a terrible vengeance at that holy season on the rebellious city. The proud Roman titles seemed but worthy of derision to the German emperor and his vassal pope. The body of the prefect who had expelled John from the city was dug up out of his grave and torn to pieces. The consuls escaped with banishment beyond the Alps; but the twelve tribunes were hanged; the actual prefect was set upon an ass, with a wine-bag on his head, led through the streets, scourged, and thrown into prison. All Europe, hardened as it was to acts of inhumanity, shuddered at these atrocities.

The rebellion was crushed for a time; during the five remaining years of John’s pontificate the presence of Otto overawed the refractory Romans. He ruled in peace. At his death the undisturbed vacancy of the see for three months implies the humble consultation of Otto’s wishes (he had now returned to Germany) on the appointment of his successor.

The choice fell on Benedict VI, as usual of Roman birth (January 19th, 973). The factions of Rome now utterly baffle conjecture as to their motives, as to the passions, not the principles, which actuated their leaders. Twice (the second time after an interval of ten years, during which he was absent from Rome), the same man, a cardinal deacon, seizes and murders two popes; sets himself up as supreme pontiff; but though with power to commit these enormities, he cannot maintain on either occasion his ill-won tiara.

The formidable Otto the Great died the year of the accession of Benedict VI (December 25th, 967). Otto II, whose character was as yet unknown, had succeeded to the imperial throne; he had been already the colleague of his father in the empire. He had been crowned at Rome by Pope John XIII.

The year after the accession of Otto II, on a sudden, Boniface, surnamed Francone, described as the son of Ferruccio, a name doubtless well known to his contemporaries, seized the unsuspecting pope Benedict and cast him into a dungeon (July, 974), where shortly after he was strangled. Boniface assumed the papacy, but he had miscalculated the strength of his faction; in one month he was forced to fly the city. Yet he fled not with so much haste but that he carried off all the treasures, even the sacred vessels from the church of St. Peter. He found his way to Constantinople, where he might seem to have been forgotten in his retreat. The peaceful succession of Benedict VII, the nephew or grandson of the famous Alberic, may lead to the conclusion that the faction of that family still survived, and was opposed to that of Boniface. The first act of Benedict, as might be expected, was the assembling a council for the excommunication of the murderer and anti-pope Boniface. This is the first and last important act in the barren annals of[587] Pope Benedict VII. Under the protection of the emperor Otto II, or by the strength of his Roman faction, he retained peaceful possession of the see for nine years, an unusual period of quiet. He was succeeded, no doubt through the influence of the emperor, by John XIV, who was no Roman, but bishop of Pavia. But in the year of John’s accession (983), Otto II was preparing a great armament to avenge a terrible defeat by the Saracens. He had hardly fled from the conquering Saracens, and made his escape from a Greek ship by leaping into the sea and swimming ashore. He now threatened with all the forces of the realm to bridge the Straits of Messina, and reunite Sicily to the empire of the West. In the midst of his preparations he died at Rome.

The fugitive Boniface Francone had kept up his correspondence with Rome; he might presume on the unpopularity of a pontiff, if not of German birth, imposed by foreign influence, and now deprived of his all-powerful protector. With the same suddenness as before, he reappeared in Rome, seized the pope, imprisoned him in the castle of St. Angelo, of which important fortress he had become master, and there put him to death by starvation or by poison (August 20th, 984). He exposed the body to the view of the people, who dared not murmur. He seated himself, as it seems, unresisted, in the papal chair. The holy see was speedily delivered from this murderous usurper. He died suddenly. The people revenged themselves for their own base acquiescence in his usurpation by cowardly insults on his dead body; it was dragged through the streets, and at length buried, either by the compassion or the attachment (for Boniface must have had a powerful faction in Rome) of certain ecclesiastics. These bloody revolutions could not but destroy all reverence for their ecclesiastical rulers in the people of Rome.g

CHARLES KINGSLEY ON TEMPORAL POWER

A united Italy suited the views of the popes then no more than it does now. Not only did they conceive of Rome as still the centre of the western world, but more, their stock in trade was at Rome. The chains of St. Peter, the sepulchres of St. Peter and St. Paul, the catacombs filled with the bones of innumerable martyrs—these were their stock in trade. By giving these, selling these, working miracles with these, calling pilgrims from all parts of Christendom to visit these in situ, they kept up their power and their wealth.

Having obtained what they wanted from Pepin and Charlemagne, it was still their interest to pursue the same policy; to compound for their own independence, as they did with Charlemagne and his successors, by defending the pretences of foreign kings to the sovereignty of the rest of Italy. This has been their policy for centuries. It is their policy still; and that policy has been the curse of Italy. This fatal gift of the patrimony of St. Peter—as Dante saw, as Machiavelli saw, as all clear-sighted Italians have seen—has kept her divided, torn by civil wars, conquered and reconquered by foreign invaders. Unable, as a celibate ecclesiastic, to form his dominions into a strong hereditary kingdom; unable as the hierophant of a priestly caste to unite his people in the bonds of national life; unable, as Borgia tried to do, to conquer the rest of Italy for himself, and form it into a kingdom large enough to have weight in the balance of power, the pope was forced, again and again, to keep himself on his throne by intriguing with foreign princes, and calling in foreign arms; and the bane of Italy, from the time of[588] Stephen III to that of Pius IX, was the temporal power of the pope. But on the popes, also, the Nemesis came. In building their power on the Roman relics, on the fable that Rome was the patrimony of Peter, they had built on a lie; and that lie avenged itself.

Having committed themselves to the false position of being petty kings of a petty kingdom, they had to endure continual treachery and tyranny from their foreign allies—to see not merely Italy, but Rome itself, insulted and even sacked by faithful Catholics, and to become more and more, as the centuries rolled on, the tools of those very kings whom they had wished to make their tools.

True, they defended themselves long, and with astonishing skill and courage. Their sources of power were two, the moral and the thaumaturgic, and they used them both; but when the former failed, the latter became useless. As long as their moral power was real; as long as they and their clergy were on the whole, in spite of enormous faults, the best men in Europe, so long the people believed in them, and in their thaumaturgic relics likewise. But they became by no means the best men in Europe. Then they began to think that after all it was more easy to work the material than the moral power—easier to work the bones than to work righteousness. They were deceived. Behold! when the righteousness was gone, the bones refused to work. People began to question the virtue of the bones, and to ask, “We can believe that the bones may have worked miracles for good men, but for bad men? We will examine whether they work any miracles at all.” And then, behold, it came out that the bones did not work miracles, and that possibly they were not saints’ bones at all; and then the storm came; and the lie, as all lies do, punished itself. That salt had lost its savour. They who had been the light of Europe, became its darkness; they who had been first, became last; a warning to mankind until the end of time, that on truth and virtue depends the only abiding strength.h

FOOTNOTES

---

[589]

CHAPTER III. THE HIGH NOON OF THE PAPACY

During the minority of Otto III the Tuscan party exercised undisputed sway in Rome, without any check from without. No sooner was Otto II dead than Boniface VII reappeared from exile, and having seized his rival John XIV, and put him to death by starvation, for two years occupied unresisted the papal chair. Nevertheless Boniface VII was not a friend of the Tuscan party. By the people his dead body was treated with insults. Boniface’s successor, John XV, not proving as pliant as Crescentius the consul desired, was driven from Rome and reduced to the necessity of again appealing to the imperial authority. He was permitted to return.b

At his death, Otto III obliged the clergy and the people to elect his nephew Bruno, a German, and only twenty years of age. But the chief control of the city was at present in the hands of the senator Crescentius (Cencius), a man whom the emperor could not fail to view with feelings of fear and jealousy. On visiting Rome, therefore, for the purpose of receiving consecration, he undertook measures for his expulsion; but was prevented from putting them in practice by the persuasions of his nephew, who had assumed the appellation of Gregory V. The clemency of the pontiff was ill rewarded. Crescentius, on the departure of the emperor, drove him from the city and bestowed the pontifical dignity on a Greek, who took the name of John XVI. Gregory in the meantime fled into Lombardy; and, having summoned the several bishops to meet him at Pavia, he there excommunicated both Crescentius and John, his sentence, it is said, being supported by nearly all Italy, Germany, and France. The emperor, on his part, lost no time in proceeding to the capital, where his appearance struck instant terror into the hearts of the guilty Romans. John was apprehended when on the point of leaving the city; and the officers of the emperor, dreading lest their master should show any forbearance towards the culprit, immediately tore out his tongue and his eyes. Crescentius suffered the gentler punishment of decapitation; and Gregory, thus freed from his enemies, retained the papal dignity till the year 999. He was succeeded by Gerbert, archbishop of Ravenna, whom Otto caused to be elected in gratitude for the services he had rendered him as his instructor.c

[590]

THE DREAM OF OTTO III

The emperor was victorious, and exercised undisputed sway in the city of the cæsars. At this moment a grand scheme rose before his mental vision. Rome was to occupy again her ancient place as the seat of empire. An emperor was to sit on the throne of Constantine who would govern like Constantine, and raise the empire once more to the pinnacle of power. A truly apostolic pope was to be appointed, a second Silvester who would reform the clergy and correct the infamous avarice and vice of the Roman church.

On the death of Gregory V that scheme seemed about to be realised. The decree issued by Otto III for the election of his tutor Gerbert, who assumed the name of Silvester II, in allusion to the relations of Constantine and Silvester I, declared Rome to be the capital of the world, the Roman church to be the mother of churches; it described how the dignity of the Roman church had been obscured by her neglectful popes, how the property of the church had been squandered on the dregs of mankind, how the prelates had made everything venal, and so despoiled the very altars of the apostles. It denounced the donations of Constantine and Charles the Bald as void and forgeries; it assumed the power not only of electing, but, by God’s grace, of creating and ordaining the pope, and it granted eight counties for his support. The millennial period of the Christian era was to see all old abuses swept away, and the new régime established. The new age was to begin with a new Constantine and a new Silvester. The year 1000 was to inaugurate the change. But how vain are the schemes of men! The looked-for year came. It found Otto III indeed at Rome, with a palace built on the Aventine, with a regular administrative system for the government of the capital established. It found his tutor, Silvester II, on the chair of St. Peter to second and direct him. Before three years both of them were dead.

The death of Otto put an end to all attempts at reform. For none but Otto in that lawless age rose above his surroundings, to project a new era of improvement. None but his tutor, Silvester II, could sympathise with his projects. When, comet-like, these two luminaries had darted across the heaven and disappeared, the darkness of night grew thicker than before.b

With the disappearance of these two eminent men the popedom relapsed into its former degradation. The feudal nobility—that very “refuse” which, to use the expression of a contemporary writer, it had been Otto’s mission “to sweep from the capital”—regained their ascendency, and the popes became as completely the instruments of their will as they had once been of that of the Eastern emperor. A leading faction among this nobility was that of the counts of Tusculum, and for nearly half a century the popedom was a mere appanage in their family. As if to mark their contempt for the office, they carried the election of Theophylact, the son of Count Alberic, a lad scarcely twelve years of age, to the office. Benedict IX (1033-1045), such was the title given him, soon threw off even the external decencies of his office, and his pontificate was disgraced by every conceivable excess. As he grew to manhood his rule, in conjunction with that of his brother, who was appointed the patrician or prefect of the city, resembled that of two captains of banditti. The scandal attaching to his administration culminated when it was known that, in order to win the hand of a lady for whom he had conceived a passion, he had sold the pontifical office itself to another member of the Tusculan house, John, the arch-presbyter, who took the name of Gregory VI (1045-1046). His brief pontificate was chiefly occupied with[591] endeavours to protect the pilgrims to Rome on their way to the capital from the lawless freebooters (who plundered them of their costly votive offerings as well as of their personal property), and with attempts to recover by main force the alienated possessions of the Roman church. Prior, however, to his purchase of the pontifical office, the citizens of Rome, weary of the tyranny and extortions of Benedict, had assembled of their own accord and elected another pope, John, bishop of Sabina, who took the name of Silvester III (rival pope, 1044-1046).

In the meantime Benedict had been brought back to Rome by his powerful kinsmen, and now reclaimed the sacred office. For a brief period, therefore, there were to be seen three rival popes, each denouncing the other’s pretensions and combating them by armed force. But even in Rome the sense of decency and shame had not become altogether extinguished; and at length a party in the Roman church deputed Peter, their archdeacon, to carry a petition to the emperor Henry III, soliciting his intervention. The emperor, a man of deep religious feeling and lofty character, responded to the appeal. He had long noted, in common with other thoughtful observers, the widespread degeneracy which, taking example by the curia, was growing throughout the church at large, and especially visible in concubinage and simony, alike regarded as mortal sins in the clergy. He forthwith crossed the Alps and assembled a council at Sutri. The claims of the three rival popes were each in turn examined and pronounced invalid, and a German, Suidger (Suidgar or Suger), bishop of Bamberg, was elected to the office as Clement II (1046-1047).

THE GERMAN POPES

The degeneracy of the church at this period would seem to have been in some degree compensated by the reform of the monasteries, and from the great abbey of Cluny in Burgundy there now proceeded a line of German popes who in a great measure restored the dignity and reputation of their office. But, whether from the climate, always ill adapted to the German constitution, or from poison, as the contemporary chronicles not unfrequently suggest, it is certain that their tenure of office was singularly brief. Clement II died before the close of the year of his election. Damasus II, his successor, held the office only twenty-three days. Leo IX, who succeeded, held it for the exceptionally lengthened period of more than five years (1049-1054). This pontiff, although a kinsman and nominee of the emperor, refused to ascend the throne until his election had been ratified by the voice of the clergy and the people, and his administration of the office presented the greatest possible contrast to that of Benedict IX or Sergius III.

In more than one respect it constitutes a crisis in the history of the popedom. In conjunction with his faithful friend and adviser, the great Hildebrand, he projected schemes of fundamental church reform, in which the suppression of simony and of married life (or concubinage, as it was styled by its denouncers) on the part of the clergy formed the leading features. In the year 1049, at three great synods successively convened at Rome, Rheims, and Mainz, new canons condemnatory of the prevailing abuses were enacted, and the principles of monasticism more distinctly asserted in contravention of those traditional among the secular clergy. Leo’s pontificate closed, however, ingloriously.

In an evil hour he ventured to oppose the occupation by the Normans, whose encroachments on Italy were just commencing. His ill-disciplined[592] forces were no match for the Norman bands, composed of the best warriors of the age. He was himself made prisoner, detained for nearly a twelvemonth in captivity, and eventually released only to die, a few days after, of grief and humiliation. But, although his own career terminated thus ignominiously, the services rendered by Leo to the cause of Roman Catholicism were great and permanent; and of his different measures none contributed more effectually to the stability of his see than the formation of the college of cardinals.

THE COLLEGE OF CARDINALS

The title of “cardinal” was not originally restricted to dignitaries connected with the church of Rome, but it had hitherto been a canonical requirement that all who attained to this dignity should have passed through the successive lower ecclesiastical grades in connection with one and the same foundation; the cardinals attached to the Roman church had consequently been all Italians, educated for the most part in the capital, having but little experience of the world beyond its walls, and incapable of estimating church questions in the light of the necessities and feelings of Christendom at large. By the change which he introduced, Leo summoned the leaders of the party of reform within the newly constituted college of cardinals, and thus attached to his office a body of able advisers with wider views and less narrow sympathies. By their aid the administration of the pontifical duties was rendered at once more easy and more effective.

The pontiff himself was liberated from his bondage to the capital, and, even when driven from Rome, could still watch over the interests of both his see and the entire church in all their extended relations; and the popedom must now be looked upon as entering upon another stage in its history—that of almost uninterrupted progress to the pinnacle of power. According to Anselmo of Lucca, it was during the pontificate of Leo, at the synod of Rheims above referred to, that the title of “apostolic bishop” (apostolicus) was first declared to belong to the pope of Rome exclusively.

The short pontificate of Nicholas II (1059-1061) is memorable chiefly for the fundamental change then introduced in the method of electing to the papal office. By a decree of the Second Lateran Council (1059), the nomination to the office was vested solely in the cardinal bishops—the lower clergy, the citizens, and the emperor retaining simply the right of intimating or withholding their assent. It was likewise enacted that the nominee should always be one of the Roman clergy, unless indeed no eligible person could be found among their number. At the same time the direst anathemas were decreed against all who should venture to infringe this enactment either in the letter or the spirit.

The preponderance thus secured to the ultramontane party and to Italian interests must be regarded as materially affecting the whole subsequent history of the popedom. The manner in which it struck at the imperial influence was soon made apparent in the choice of Nicholas’ successor, the line of German popes being broken through by the election of Anselm, bishop of Lucca (the uncle of the historian), who ascended the pontifical throne as Alexander II (1061-1073) without having received the sanction of the emperor. His election was forthwith challenged by the latter, and for the space of two years the Roman state was distracted by a civil war, Honorius II being supported as a rival candidate by the imperial arms, while Alexander maintained his position only with the support of the Norman levies. The respective[593] merits of their claims were considered at a council convened at Mantua, and the decision was given in favour of Alexander. Cadalous, such was the name of his rival, did not acknowledge the justice of the sentence, but he retired into obscurity; and the remainder of Alexander’s pontificate, though troubled by the disputes respecting a married clergy, was free from actual warfare. In these much vexed questions of church discipline Alexander, who had been mainly indebted for his election to Hildebrand, the archdeacon of the Roman church, was guided entirely by that able churchman’s advice, and in 1073 Hildebrand himself succeeded to the office as Gregory VII (1073-1085).d

MILMAN ON THE MISSION OF THE PAPACY

Hildebrand was now pope; the great contest for the dominion over the human mind, the strife between the temporal and spiritual power, which had been carried on for some centuries as a desultory and intermitting warfare, was now to be waged boldly, openly, implacably, to the subjugation of one or of the other. Sacerdotal, or rather papal Christianity, had not yet fulfilled its mission, for, the papal control withdrawn, the sacerdotal rule would have lost its unity, and with its unity its authority must have dissolved away. Without the clergy, not working here and there with irregular and uncombined excitement on the religious feelings of man, awakening in one quarter a vigorous enthusiasm, while in other parts of Europe men were left to fall back into some new Christian heathenism, or into an inert habitual Christianity of form; without the whole order labouring on a fixed and determined system, through creeds sanctified by ancient reverence and a ceremonial guarded by rigid usage; without this vast uniform, hierarchical influence, where, in those ages of anarchy and ignorance, of brute force and dormant intelligence, had been Christianity itself? And looking only to its temporal condition, what had the world been without Christianity?

The papacy has still the more splendid part of its destiny to accomplish. It has shown vital power enough to recover from its seemingly irrecoverable degradation. It might have been supposed that a moral and religious deprivation so profound, would utterly have destroyed that reverence of opinion which was the one groundwork of the papal power. The veil had been raised; and Italy at least, if not Europe, had seen within it, not a reflex of divine majesty and holiness, but an idol not only hideous to the pure moral sentiment, but contemptible for its weakness. If centuries of sanctity had planted deeply in the heart of man his veneration for the successor of St. Peter, it would have been paralysed (the world might expect) and extinguished by more than a century of odious and unchristian vices. A spiritual succession must be broken and interrupted by such unspiritual inheritors. Could the head of Christendom, living in the most unchristian wickedness, perpetuate his descent, and hand down the patrimony of power and authority, with nothing of that piety and goodness which was at least one of his titles to that transcendent power?

But that idea or that opinion would not have endured for centuries, had it not possessed strength enough to reconcile its believers to contradictions and inconsistencies. With all the Teutonic part of Latin Christendom, the belief in the supremacy of the pope was coeval with their Christianity; it was an article of their original creed as much as the redemption; their apostles were commissioned by the pope; to him they humbly looked for instruction and encouragement, even almost for permission to advance upon[594] their sacred adventure. Augustine, Boniface, Ebbo, Anskar, had been papal missionaries. If the faith of Italy was shaken by too familiar a view of that which the Germans contemplated with more remote and indistinct veneration, the national pride, in Rome especially, accepted the spiritual as a compensation for the loss of the temporal supremacy; it had ceased to be the centre of the imperial, it would not endure not to be that of ecclesiastical dominion. The jealousy of a pope elected, or even born, elsewhere than in Italy, showed the vitality of that belief in the papacy, which was belied by so many acts of violence towards individual popes.

The religious minds would be chiefly offended by the incongruity between the lives and the station of the pope; but to them it would be a part of religion to suppress any rebellious doubts. Their souls were deeply impressed with the paramount necessity of the unity of the church; to them the papacy was of divine appointment, the pope the successor of St. Peter; all secret questioning of this integral part of their implanted faith was sin. However then they might bow down in shame and sorrow at the inscrutable decrees of heaven, in allowing its vicegerent thus to depart from his original brightness, yet they would veil their faces in awe, and await in trembling patience the solution of that mystery. In the Christian mind in general, or rather the mind within the world of Christendom, the separation between Christian faith and Christian morality was almost complete. Christianity was a mere unreasoning assent to certain dogmatic truths, an unreasoning obedience to certain ceremonial observances.

Controversy was almost dead. In the former century, the predestinarian doctrines of Gottschalk, in general so acceptable to the popular ear, had been entirely suppressed by the sacerdotal authority. The tenets of Berengar concerning the presence of Christ in the Sacrament, had been restrained, and were to be once more restrained, by the same strong hand; and Berengar’s logic was beyond his age. The Manichæan doctrines of the Paulicians and kindred sects were doubtless spreading to a great extent among the lower orders, but as yet in secrecy, breaking out now in one place, now in another, yet everywhere beheld with abhorrence, creating no wide alarm, threatening no dangerous disunion. In all the vulgar of Christendom (and that vulgar comprehended all orders, all ranks) the moral sentiment, as more obtuse, would be less shocked by that incongruity which grieved and oppressed the more religious. The great body of Christians in the West would no more have thought of discussing the character of the pope than the attributes of God. He was to them the apostle, the vicegerent of God, enveloped in the same kind of awful mystery. They feared the thunders of the Lateran as those of heaven; and were no[595] more capable of sound discrimination as to the limits, grounds, and nature of that authority than as to the causes of the destructive fire from the clouds. Their general belief in the judgment to come was not more deeply rooted than in the right of the clergy, more especially the head of the clergy, to anticipate, to declare, or to ratify their doom.

The German line of pontiffs had done much to reinvest the papacy in its ancient sanctity. The Italian Alexander II had been at least a blameless pontiff, and now every qualification which could array the pope in imposing majesty, in what bordered on divine worship, seemed to meet in Gregory VII. His life verified the splendid panegyric with which he had been presented by Cardinal Hugo to the Roman people. He had the austerest virtue, the most simple piety, the fame of vast theologic knowledge, the tried ability to rule men, intrepidity which seemed to delight in confronting the most powerful; a stern singleness of purpose, which, under its name of churchmanship, gave his partisans unlimited reliance on his firmness and resolution, and yet a subtle policy which bordered upon craft. To them his faults were virtues; his imperiousness the due assertion of his dignity; his unbounded ambition zeal in God’s cause; no haughtiness could be above that which became his station. The terror by which he ruled (he was so powerful that he could dispense with love), as it was the attribute of the divinity now exclusively worshipped by man, so was it that which became the representative of God on earth.

The first, the avowed object of Gregory’s pontificate, was the absolute independence of the clergy, of the pope, of the great prelates throughout Latin Christendom, down to the lowest functionary, whose person was to become sacred; that independence under which lurked the undisguised pretension to superiority. His remote and somewhat more indistinct vision was the foundation of a vast spiritual autocracy in the person of the pope, who was to rule mankind by the consentient but subordinate authority of the clergy throughout the world. For this end the clergy were to become still more completely a separate, inviolable caste; their property equally sacred with their persons. Each in his separate sphere, the pope above all and comprehending all, was to be sovereign arbiter of all disputes; to hold in his hands the supreme mediation in questions of war and peace; to adjudge contested successions to kingdoms; to be a great feudal lord, to whom other kings became beneficiaries. His own arms were to be chiefly spiritual, but the temporal power was to be always ready to execute the ecclesiastical behest against the ungodly rebels who might revolt from its authority; nor did the churchman refuse altogether to sanction the employment of secular weapons, to employ armies in his own name, or even to permit the use of arms to the priesthood.

For this complete isolation of the hierarchy into a peculiar and inviolable caste was first necessary the reformation of the clergy in two most important preliminary matters; the absolute extirpation of the two evils, which the more rigid churchmen had been denouncing for centuries, to the suppression of which Hildebrand had devoted so much of his active energies. The war against simony and the concubinage of the clergy (for under this ill-sounding name was condemned all connection, however legalised, with the female sex), must first be carried to a triumphant issue, before the church could assume its full and uncontested domination.[92]

[596]

Simony

Like his predecessors, like all the more high-minded churchmen, Hildebrand refused to see that simony was the inevitable consequence of the inordinate wealth of the clergy. It was a wild moral paradox to attempt to reconcile enormous temporal possessions and enormous temporal power with the extinction of all temporal motives for obtaining, all temptations to the misuse of these all-envied treasures. In the feudal system, which had been so long growing up throughout western Europe, bishops had become, in every respect, the equals of the secular nobles. In every city the bishop, if not the very first of men, was on a level with the first; without the city he was lord of the amplest domains. Archbishops almost equalled kings; for who would not have coveted the station and authority of a Hincmar, archbishop of Rheims, rather than the sovereignty of the feeble Carlovingian monarch?

Charlemagne himself had set the example of advancing his natural sons to high ecclesiastical dignities. His feebler descendants, even the more pious, submitted to the same course from choice or necessity. The evil worked downwards. The bishop, who had bought his see, indemnified himself by selling the inferior prebends or cures. What was so intrinsically valuable began to have its money-price; it became an object of barter and sale. The layman who purchased holy orders bought usually peace, security of life, comparative ease. Those who aspired to higher dignities soon repaid themselves for the outlay, however large and extortionate. The highest bishops confessed their own guilt; the bishopric of Rome had too often been notoriously bought and sold.

According to the strict law, the clergy could receive everything, alienate nothing. But the frequent and bitter complaints of the violent usurpation, or the fraudulent alienation by the clergy themselves of what had been church property, show that neither party respected this sanctity when it was the interest of both to violate it. While, on the one hand, the clergy extorted from the dying prince or noble some important grant, immunity, or possession, the despoiled heir would scruple at no means of resuming his alienated rights or property. The careless, the profligate, the venal, the warlike bishop or abbot, would find means, if he found advantage, to elude the law; to surrender gradually and imperceptibly; to lease out the land so as to annihilate its value to the church; to grant in perpetuity for trifling compensations or for valueless service the coveted estate; and so to relax the inexorable grasp of the church. His own pomp and expenditure would reduce the ecclesiastic to the wants and subterfuges of debtors and of bankrupts; and so the estates would, directly or circuitously, return either to the original or to some new owner.

Celibacy of the Clergy

With this universal simony was connected, more closely than may at first appear, the other great vice of the age, as it was esteemed by Hildebrand and his school, the marriage of the clergy. The celibacy of the clergy was necessary to their existence, at the present period, as a separate caste. Hereditary succession and the degeneracy of the order were inseparable. Great as were the evils inevitable from the dominion of the priesthood, if it had become in any degree the privilege of certain families, that evil would have been enormously aggravated, the compensating advantages annulled. Family[597] affections and interests would have been constantly struggling against those of the church. One universal nepotism, a nepotism not of kindred but of parentage, would have preyed upon the vital energies of the order. Every irreligious occupant would either have endeavoured to alienate to his lay descendants the property of the church, or bred up his still more degenerate descendants in the certainty of succession to their patrimonial benefice.

Celibacy may be maintained for a time by mutual control and awe; by severe discipline; by a strong corporate spirit in a monastic community. But in a low state of morals as to sexual intercourse, in an order recruited from all classes of society, not filled by men of tried and matured religion; in an order crowded by aspirants after its wealth, power, comparative ease, privileges, immunities, public estimation; in an order superior to, or dictating public opinion (if public opinion made itself heard); in a permanent order, in which the degeneracy of one age would go on increasing in the next, till it produced some stern reaction; in an order comparatively idle, without social duties or intellectual pursuits; in an order not secluded in the desert, but officially brought into the closest and most confidential relations as instructors and advisers of the other sex, it was impossible to maintain real celibacy; and the practical alternative lay between secret marriage, concubinage without the form of marriage, or a looser and more corrupting intercourse between the sexes.

Throughout Latin Christendom, throughout the whole spiritual realm of Hildebrand, he could not but know there had been long a deep murmured, if not an avowed doubt, as to the authority of the prohibitions against the marriage of the clergy; where the dogmatic authority of the papal canons was not called in question, there was a bold resistance or a tacit infringement of the law. Italy has been seen in actual, if uncombined, rebellion from Calabria to the Alps. The whole clergy of the kingdom of Naples has appeared, under Nicholas II, from the highest to the lowest, openly living with their lawful wives. The married clergy were still, if for the present cowed, a powerful faction throughout Italy; they were awaiting their time of vengeance. The memory of the married pope, Adrian II, was but recent.

In Germany the power and influence of the married clergy will make itself felt, if less openly proclaimed, as a bond of alliance with the emperor and the Lombard prelates. The French councils denounce the crime as frequent, notorious. Among the Anglo-Saxon clergy before Dunstan, marriage was rather the rule, celibacy the exception.

GREGORY’S SYNOD AT ROME

Almost the first public act of Gregory VII was a declaration of implacable war against these his two mortal enemies, simony and the marriage of the clergy. He was no infant Hercules; but the mature ecclesiastical Hercules would begin his career by strangling these two serpents—the brood, as he esteemed them, and parents of all evil. The decree of the synod held in Rome (March 9th, 10th, 1074) in the eleventh month of his pontificate is not extant, but in its inexorable provisions it went beyond the sternest of his predecessors. It absolutely invalidated all sacraments performed by simoniacal or married priests; baptism was no regenerating rite; it might almost seem that the eucharistic bread and wine in their unhallowed hands refused to be transubstantiated into the body and blood of Christ. The communicants guilty of perseverance at least in the sin shared in the[598] sacerdotal guilt. Even the priesthood was startled at this new and awful doctrine, that the efficacy of the sacraments depended on their own sinlessness. Gregory, in his headstrong zeal, was promulgating a doctrine used afterwards by Wycliffe and his followers with such tremendous energy. And this was a fearless, democratical provocation to the people; for it left to notoriety, to public fame, to fix on anyone the brand of the hidden sin of simony, or (it might be the calumnious) charge of concubinage; and so abandoned the holy priesthood to the judgment of the multitude.[93]

But the extirpation of these two internal enemies to the dignity and the power of the sacerdotal order was far below the holy ambition of Gregory; this was but clearing the ground for the stately fabric of his theocracy. If, for his own purposes, he had at first assumed some moderation in his intercourse with the empire, over the rest of Latin Christendom he took at once the tone and language of a sovereign. We must rapidly survey, before we follow him into his great war with the empire, Gregory VII asserting his autocracy over the rest of Latin Christendom.

His letters to Philip I, king of France, are in the haughtiest, most criminatory terms: “No king has reached such a height of detestable guilt in oppressing the churches of his kingdom as Philip of France.” He puts the king to the test; his immediate admission of a bishop of Mâcon, elected by the clergy and people, without payment to the crown. Either let the king repudiate this base traffic of simony, and allow fit persons to be promoted to bishoprics, or the Franks, unless apostates from Christianity, will be struck with the sword of excommunication, and refuse any longer to obey him.

Hildebrand’s predecessor (and Alexander II did no momentous act without the counsel of Hildebrand) had given a direct sanction to the Norman conquest of England. Hildebrand may have felt some admiration, even awe, of the congenial mind of the conqueror. He advances the claim to Peter’s pence over the kingdom. William admits this claim; it was among the stipulations, it was the price which the pope had imposed for his assent to the conquest. But to the demand of fealty, the conqueror returns an answer of haughty brevity: “I have not sworn, nor will I swear fealty which was never sworn by any of my predecessors to yours.” And William maintained his Teutonic independence—created bishops and abbots at his will, was absolute lord over his ecclesiastical as over his feudal liegemen.

To the kings of Spain, in one of his earliest letters, Pope Gregory boldly asserts that the whole realm of Spain is not only within the spiritual jurisdiction of the holy see, but her property. No part of Latin Christendom was so remote or so barbarous as to escape his vigilant determination to bring it under his vast ecclesiastical unity. While yet a deacon he had corresponded with Sweyn, king of Denmark; on him he bestows much grave and excellent advice. In a letter to Olaf, king of Norway, he dissuades him solemnly from assisting the rebellious brothers of the Danish king. Between the duke of Poland and the king of the Russians he interposes his mediation. The son of the Russian had come to Rome to receive his kingdom from the hands of St. Peter. The kingdom of Hungary, as that of Spain, he treats as a fief of the papacy; he rebukes the king Solomon for daring to hold it as a benefice of the king of the Germans. He watches over Bohemia; his legates take under their care the estates of the church; he summons the archbishop[599] of Prague to Rome. Even Africa is not beyond the care of Hildebrand. The clergy and people of Carthage are urged to adhere to their archbishop—not to dread the arms of the Saracens, though that once flourishing Christian province, the land of Cyprian and Augustine, is so utterly reduced that three bishops cannot be found to proceed to a legitimate consecration.

But the empire was the one worthy, one formidable antagonist to Hildebrand’s universal theocracy, whose prostration would lay the world beneath his feet. The empire must acknowledge itself as a grant from the papacy, as a grant revocable for certain offences against the ecclesiastical rights and immunities; it must humbly acquiesce in the uncontrolled prerogative of the cardinals to elect the pope; abandon all the imperial claims on the investiture of the prelates and other clergy with their benefices; release the whole mass of church property from all feudal demands, whether of service or of fealty; submit patiently to rebuke; admit the pope to dictate on questions of war and peace, and all internal government where he might detect, or suppose that he detected, oppression. This was the condition to which the words and acts of Gregory aspired to reduce the heirs of Charlemagne, the successors of the western cæsars.

As a Christian, as a member of the church, the emperor was confessedly subordinate to the pope, the acknowledged head and ruler of the church. As a subject of the empire, the pope owed temporal allegiance to the emperor. The authority of each depended on loose and flexible tradition, on variable and contradictory precedents, on titles of uncertain signification; each could ascend to a time when they were not dependent upon each other. The emperor boasted himself the successor to the whole autocracy of the cæsars, to Augustus, Constantine, Charlemagne: the pope to that of St. Peter, or of Christ himself.e But all-powerful as was the pope abroad, in Italy his authority was restricted. Even in Rome the prefect Cencius dared to lay hands on Gregory VII, to tear him from the sanctuary of a church during a riot, and afterwards held him some time a prisoner. At Milan the citizens expelled Herlembald and his tool Atto, who exercised actual tyranny in the city under pretext of carrying out the pope’s reforms, and demanded an archbishop of Henry IV, who sent them a noble from Castiglione. This was the commencement of the struggle between sacerdotal and imperial power that culminated in one of the greatest and most stirring dramas of all history.

Events began auspiciously for Gregory, many points of support being promised him in Germany. Feudal rebellions had kept that country in a state of agitation during the minority of Henry IV, who was but six years old when his father died in 1056. The regency and even the person of the young king had been wrested from the empress Agnes by the dukes of Saxony and Bavaria. Once arrived at man’s estate, Henry IV set about[600] suppressing the revolt that had, as usual, arisen among the Saxons. An important victory won in Thuringia seemed to promise him a continuance of success, when suddenly the voice of the pope thundered down upon him, ordering him, with unexampled audacity, to suspend all warlike operations, and to leave to the holy see the right of decision in his quarrel with the Saxons; furthermore, to abandon all pretensions to ecclesiastical investiture, under pain of excommunication. To this the legates joined the summons to appear at Rome to answer certain personal charges that had been brought against him. Henry IV replied to this furious attack with equal vigour, and in the synod of Worms, composed of eighteen prelates, his partisans, he caused sentence of deposition solemnly to be pronounced against Gregory VII (1076).

This decree, instead of alarming the pope, but excited him to fresh aggression. No sooner was he delivered by a popular movement from the hands of his enemy, Cencius, the Roman prefect, than he began once more to thunder forth denunciations; he hurled a bull of excommunication at the emperor, in which he proclaimed him a rebel to the holy see, and declared his vassals free from all allegiance to him. This bull was mercilessly put into execution by the Saxons and Swabians, all enemies of the house of Franconia. At their head was Rudolf of Swabia and the Italian, Welf, of the house of Este, whom Henry himself had created duke of Bavaria. They convoked a diet at Tribur, suspended the functions of the emperor and menaced him with deposition if he did not win absolution from the curse of Rome. Henry acceded humbly, and promised to assemble a general diet at Augsburg, which he begged the pope to attend for the purpose of absolving him. Alive, however, to the danger of allowing his enemies to come together in a body, he resolved to anticipate the action of the proposed diet and went himself to Italy to implore pardon of the pope.

The price Gregory set upon this absolution was such as no other monarch ever had to pay. The pope was inhabiting at the time the château of Canossa, in the domains of the celebrated countess Matilda, a devout adherent of the holy see and the most powerful sovereign in Italy, since she included among her possessions the marquisates of Tuscany and Spoleto, Parma, Piacenza, and several points in Lombardy, the Marches, etc. Henry IV came to this castle to solicit an audience, but was compelled to wait barefooted in the snow three days before he was received. At last on the fourth day he was admitted and given absolution. Gregory, however, too adroit to lay down arms at once, refused to decide the question relative to the German crown, and deferred all consideration of it to a special diet, thereby reserving to himself a means of throwing Henry into fresh embarrassment. Could the king do other than tremble before a man who was the acknowledged representative of divinity on earth, and who believed himself so secure in the favour of heaven that, taking half of a “host,” he adjured God upon it to annihilate him instantly if he were guilty of the crimes imputed to him? When he presented the second half of the “host” to the king, asking him to swear a similar oath, Henry shrank back affrighted (1077).

By this timely bowing of the head Henry IV avoided the blow that was about to be aimed at him by a coalition of his enemies; the moment of danger once passed, he straightened up like a bow relieved from tension. Indeed he had no alternative save definitively to relinquish his hopes of the crown or again to risk all upon a single chance, since the German rebels had undertaken to answer the question left open by Gregory, and had appointed to the throne Rudolf of Swabia, who had purchased the protection of the[601] legates by promising to abjure investiture (1077), and had been solemnly acknowledged by the pope.

Having gathered around himself a body of partisans, Henry IV began to wage war with success. The battle of Wolksheim, in which Rudolf was slain by the hand of Godfrey de Bouillon, duke of Lower Lorraine, who carried the imperial standard, made him master of Germany (1080). He determined to repeat this success in Italy, where a victory won by his son had already paved the way; and the countess Matilda was stripped of a part of her possessions, Rome was taken, and the archbishop of Ravenna was appointed pope under the name of Clement III. Gregory himself would have fallen into the hands of the man he had so deeply outraged, had not Robert Guiscard and his Normans, faithful allies of the holy see, come to his rescue. He died among them (1085) with the words: “For no other reason than that I have loved justice and pursued iniquity, I must die in exile.”

Up to the final moment he appeared to believe that universal dominance was an inalienable right of the holy see, and his idea was certainly not devoid of logic.

Gregory’s death came too soon; had he lived a few years longer he would have seen his enemy expire in a condition far more miserable than that in which he had been placed at Canossa. Urban II, made pope in 1088, found his main support in the Normans, and conferred upon Roger, duke of Sicily, the title of king. He revealed the papacy in all its grandeur on the occasion of the First Crusade, and revived most of Gregory’s old judgments against the emperor. After a transitory triumph Henry IV was successively attacked by his two sons, whom the church had armed against him, and after having been stripped of all the imperial insignia, was made prisoner by his younger son. In vain he invoked the succour of the king of France, who had been his “most faithful friend”; all help was refused him, and he was reduced to soliciting the post of under-choir-master in a church, “having a considerable knowledge of music.” He died in 1106 at Liège in the depths of poverty, calling down the “vengeance of God upon the parricide”; and his body remained five years without sepulture.

It was, however, this very parricidal son Henry V who at last put a stop to the quarrels resulting from the vexed question of investitures. The decision was retarded some time by the opening of the succession of Countess Matilda, who had bequeathed all her estates to the holy see. Henry laid claim to the entire inheritance, to the fiefs as sovereign of the empire, to the allodial lands as the countess’ nearest heir, and succeeded in entering upon possession of them all. As can readily be believed, this was a cause for fresh dissension in the future. The opening dispute being provisorily settled, the two sides, recognising that a struggle would but weaken them while it confirmed the independence of the feudal lords and of the Italian middle classes, resolved to close the matter by an equitable and, as nearly as possible, an equal division of the rights under dispute. The Concordat of Worms (1122) was couched in the following terms: “I agree,” said Pope Calixtus II to the emperor, “that the elections of the bishops and abbots of the Teutonic kingdom shall take place without violence or simony in your presence, so that in case any difference shall arise you can give your sanction and protection to the side having greater holiness, according to the judgment of the metropolitan and the co-provincials. The elect shall receive from you the prerogatives of his office, and, except that duty that he owes the Roman church, shall render you obedience in all things.”

[602]

“I remit to the pope,” said the king, “all right to confer investiture by ring and cross, and in the churches of my kingdom and my empire, I authorise canonical elections and free consecration.” This wise compromise, which vested the temporal and spiritual power respectively in the temporal and spiritual rulers, was accompanied by words of reconciliation. But the design of Gregory VII was not yet fulfilled; the tie of vassalage that united the clergy to the prince was by no means severed, and church remained a part of the state in its main portion at least, if not in its outlying members.

The house of Franconia became extinct with Henry V (1125) after having, by a provisory issue, dissolved the rivalry that existed between the papacy and the empire. The reign of Lothair II, successor of Henry V, was like an interlude between two acts of a drama; during the pause the stage was cleared and reset for the scene that was to follow.f

BRYCE ON THE CONSEQUENCES OF THE CONCORDAT

The Concordat of Worms was in form a compromise designed to spare either party the humiliation of defeat. Yet the papacy remained master of the field. The emperor retained but one-half of those rights of investiture which had formerly been his. At any moment his sceptre might be shivered in his hand by the bolt of anathema, and a host of enemies spring up from every convent and cathedral.

Two other results of this great conflict ought not to pass unnoticed. The emperor was alienated from the church at the most unfortunate of all moments, the end of the Crusades. The religious feeling which the Crusades evoked turned wholly against the opponent of ecclesiastical claims and was made to work the will of the holy see. A century and a half later the pope did not scruple to preach a crusade against the emperor himself.

Again, it was now the first seeds were sown of that fear and hatred wherewith the German people never thenceforth ceased to regard the encroaching Romish court. Branded by the church and forsaken by the nobles, Henry IV retained the affections of the faithful burghers of Worms and Liège. It soon became a test of Teutonic patriotism to resist Italian priestcraft.g

RIVAL CLAIMANTS

On the death of Paschal (1118), the bishops of Porto, Ostia, and others elected John of Gaeta, who was chancellor of Rome, to the vacant chair. But his elevation was strongly opposed by the emperor’s minister, Cenzio Frangipani, who, following him to the church where the investiture was to take place, seized him by the throat, and after exposing him to every species of violence from his attendants, dragged him by the hair of the head to his house, and there left him chained, to await the orders of the emperor. He subsequently made his escape to his native place, of which he was made bishop; and Henry, in the meanwhile, raised Maurice Bourdin, by the name of Gregory VIII, to the throne.

Gelasius, as John of Gaeta was called, attempted to recover his dignity, but finding that he could not remain in Italy with safety, fled to Provence, where he died the following year. The anti-pope Gregory, though the way was now open for his accession to the throne, gained no advantage by the death of his rival. Guido, archbishop of Ravenna, a man of considerable[603] powers of mind and vast influence, ascended the papal chair as Calixtus II.[94] The contest which he was obliged to carry on with Gregory ended completely in his favour; and the defeated pretender died, after suffering innumerable miseries,[95] in a monastery. Calixtus himself died shortly after (1124); and his successor, Honorius II, passed a reign of five years in fruitless contention with Roger of Sicily, by whom his troops were entirely defeated. Innocent II and Anacletus II both pretended to the dignity at his death; and the former, before he could establish his sole claim to the prize, had to spend several years as an exile in France.

We pass over the obscure pontificates of his immediate successors. But in 1145, Bernard, abbot of St. Anastasius at Rome, and a favourite disciple of the celebrated saint of the same name, was elected to the see as Eugenius III. But whatever were the virtues of Eugenius, or the credit due to him from his intimacy with a man so full of wisdom and holiness as St. Bernard, the factious spirit which had long prevailed at Rome broke out into new excesses at the period of his elevation. Urged on by the popular eloquence of Arnold of Brescia, they were suddenly inflamed with the desire of restoring the institutions and government of the ancient capital; but the tumult which was commenced with this pretence soon carried its authors to the commission of every species of violence; and the dazzling vision of Rome, restored to its consular dignity, was lost in the clouds and thick darkness which rose from the destruction of some of its finest buildings. Eugenius, by a timely exertion of energy, quelled these disorders; and his return to Rome was attended with all the marks of a triumph. The signs, however, of sedition were still too manifest on the faces of the Romans to allow of his remaining secure among them, and he retired for some time into France. He came back to Italy about the year 1153, and died almost immediately after, at his residence in the town of Tibur.

ADRIAN IV versus BARBAROSSA

The successor of Eugenius was Adrian IV, by birth an Englishman,[96] and strongly characterised by all the ruling passions of the dignified clergy of this age.[97] Frederick Barbarossa had, in the meanwhile, ascended the imperial throne, and his pride and ambition were fitting though dangerous companions for the haughtiness of Adrian. It was not long before an opportunity was afforded these two distinguished men to try the strength of their resolution and principles. Frederick, having been crowned king of the Lombards, hastened towards Rome; but before he arrived at the gate of the city he was met by three cardinals, who acquainted him that the pontiff could not hold any conference with a prince from whom he had as yet received no[604] assurance of obedience and of fidelity to the church. The monarch readily accorded the required professions of allegiance; and a chevalier appointed for the purpose swore solemnly in his name, and on the holy relics, the cross and the Gospel, that he would preserve in safety the life, the liberty, and honour of both the pope and the cardinals. Adrian then intimated his readiness to crown him emperor, and was conducted with great pomp towards the sovereign’s tent.

But here a new cause of contention arose. Frederick had too high a sense of his imperial dignity to manifest any servile complaisance for papal pride. Instead, therefore, of hastening, as some other princes had done, to perform the part of an esquire to the pontiff, he quietly awaited him in his pavilion; which so offended Adrian, that he positively refused to grant him the kiss of peace, till he should perform the humiliating ceremonies to which the pride of churchmen and the pusillanimity of princes had given a species of legitimacy. A whole day was expended in disputing whether the emperor should continue the practice or not. But Adrian was inflexible; and the following morning the haughty Frederick in the presence of his army, purchased the kiss of peace by standing like a menial at the side of the pope’s horse, till he descended and freed him from his degrading situation.

A powerful faction at Rome hailed with joy the approach of Frederick. The desire of limiting the despotism of the pope, and the expectation of drawing large sums as a largess from the imperial treasury, appear to have exercised an almost equal influence on their minds at this time. In their address to Frederick the deputies of this party assumed the station of men who had an unconquered country to present as a free-will offering to the valour and noble qualities of the prince they sought. They had, however, greatly mistaken the ideas of the emperor on the state of Italy. Frederick told them, and with a sternness which presaged a coming storm, that their country had been long and often conquered; that he was truly and lawfully their master. He took possession forthwith of the church of St. Peter (1155), and Adrian placed the imperial crown on the head of the sovereign with far greater willingness than he would have done, had he not seen that his agreement with the prince was now essential to his safety and to the preservation of the church. The populace, finding themselves set at nought by both the pope and the emperor, rose in a mass, and several of the German soldiers fell slaughtered in the aisles of St. Peter. But their death was amply revenged; the emperor attacked the Romans on all sides, and near one thousand citizens paid with their lives the forfeit of their licentiousness or their indiscretion.

Restless and ambitious minds, like those of Adrian and Frederick Barbarossa, could not remain long at peace, when the power and privileges they possessed in their dependence upon each other were so ill defined. The first cause of dispute, after the pacification above related, was a letter which Adrian wrote to the emperor, accusing him of ingratitude for the benefits he had enjoyed through his ministration.

Adrian found it necessary to appease the anger which both Frederick and his subjects expressed at these instances of assumption, and tranquillity was for a brief space restored. But scarcely had the angry feelings generated in the late dispute subsided, when the pontiff again manifested his inclination to oppose the views of the emperor by refusing to confirm the archbishop of Ravenna, whom Frederick had elevated to that station, in his appointment. The fierceness with which the pontiff spoke and wrote on this occasion, threatened Christendom with a rupture as injurious to its[605] peace as that between the unfortunate Henry and Gregory VII. But Frederick’s firmness was unshaken; and a barrier was thus erected against the attempts of the pope, which, intended only as a protection to particular rights, did, in reality, afford support to the universal principles of civil government. To Adrian’s threat that he would deprive him of his crown, he replied that he held his crown, not from him but from his own royal predecessors. “In the days of Constantine,” he asked, “had St. Silvester anything to do with the royal dignity? Yet this was the prince to whom the church was indebted for its peace and its liberty: and all that you enjoy as pope, whence comes it but from the emperors? Render unto God that which is God’s, and to Cæsar the things that are Cæsar’s. Our churches and our cities are shut against your cardinals; because they are not preachers but robbers, they are not peacemakers but plunderers; we see that instead of coming to preach the Gospel and promote peace, their whole desire and endeavour is to amass gold and silver. When we find that they are what the church would have them, we will refuse them nothing good for their support. It is horrible that pride, that monster so detestable, should be able to steal even into the chair of St. Peter.”c

ADRIAN’S FIRMNESS

Peace became more hopeless. As a last resource, six cardinals on the part of the pope, and six German bishops on that of the emperor, were appointed to frame a treaty. But the pope demanded the re-establishment of the compact made with his predecessor Eugenius. The imperial bishops reproached the pope with his own violation of that treaty by his alliance with the king of Sicily; the Germans unanimously rejected the demands of the pope: and now the emperor received with favour a deputation from the senate and people of Rome. These ambassadors of the republican party had watched; had been present at the rupture of the negotiations. The pope, with the embers of Arnold’s rebellions mouldering under his feet; with the emperor at the head of all Germany, the prelates as well as the princes; with no ally but the doubtful, often perfidious Norman, stood unshaken; betrayed no misgivings. He threatened the emperor with a public excommunication.

Did the bold sagacity of Adrian foresee the heroic resolution with which Milan and her confederate Lombard cities would many years afterwards, and after some dire reverses and long oppression, resist the power of Barbarossa? Did he calculate with prophetic foresight the strength of Lombard republican freedom? Did he anticipate the field of Legnano, when the whole force of the Teutonic empire was broken before the carroccio of[606] Milan? Already was the secret treaty framed with Milan, Brescia, and Crema. These cities bound themselves not to make peace with the emperor without the consent of the pope and his Catholic successor. Adrian was preparing for the last act of defiance, the open declaration of war, the excommunication of the emperor, which he was pledged to pronounce after the signature of the treaty with the republics, when his death put an end to this strange conflict, where each antagonist was allied with a republican party in the heart of his adversary’s dominions. Adrian IV died at Anagni; his remains were brought to Rome, and interred with the highest honours, and with the general respect if not the grief of the city, in the church of St. Peter. Even the ambassadors of Frederick were present at the funeral. So ended the poor English scholar, at open war with perhaps the mightiest sovereign who had reigned in transalpine Europe since Charlemagne.e

TWO RIVAL POPES

The death of Adrian saved the church from the danger which had threatened it during the government of that fierce and overbearing pontiff. But, while delivered from one set of evils, it was surrounded by others little less calculated to injure its interests. The cardinals, having assembled to elect a new pope, chose by a large majority of their body Rolando, a cardinal, and chancellor of the Roman church. Their vote, however, was opposed by Cardinal Octavian, who had expected to be nominated by his colleagues to the vacant dignity; and when Rolando, who assumed the name of Alexander III, was invested with the pontifical cope, he rudely and sacrilegiously pulled it from his shoulders, and, but for the interference of the persons present, would have put it on himself. As he was disappointed in this, he obtained, by signal, a cope of the same kind, which he suddenly threw over his shoulders, placing, in his haste, the hind part before. Loud laughter followed this mistake; but Octavian felt no shame at the mingled ridicule and rebuke with which he was assailed. Going forth from the assembly, which he awed into silence by a band of armed men, he exercised, under the name of Victor IV, the part of sovereign pontiff; and for some days kept Alexander in close confinement.

The emperor Frederick did not look with indifference on these occurrences. A division in the church was equivalent to a great increase in his own power; and he warmly espoused the cause of Octavian, chiefly, as it appears, because he was the head of a faction. He at last, however, summoned a council to consider the question between the rival popes. The council assembled at Pavia, and Octavian was declared pope by the fifty bishops, the numerous abbots, and other dignitaries, of whom the meeting was composed. But Alexander was supported by the whole of that powerful party which contended for the doctrine of papal supremacy; and despising the decree of deposition passed against him at Pavia, he excommunicated the emperor for the part he had taken, and absolved his subjects from their oath of allegiance. Victor, on the other hand, was recognised as lawful pope, not only in Germany, but in England and France; by the monarchs of which countries he was received at Couci on the Loire, with all the pomp and ceremony which had been demanded for his successors by the haughty Adrian.

He died in the year 1164; but the schism was continued by the immediate election of Paschal III, who retained the semblance of authority about[607] three years. Alexander, on the death of Victor, had ventured to return to Rome, which he did not dare to attempt during the life-time of that ecclesiastic. A pestilence, which swept off the flower of Frederick’s army, saved the pope from ruin; and the emperor, obliged as he was to make his escape into Germany as he best might, at length expressed his willingness to heal the schism which he had created in the church. Peace was accordingly restored, and Alexander returned.

On the death of Alexander, Ubaldo, bishop of Ostia, was elected without opposition, and assumed the name of Lucius III (1181-1185), and it has been noted, that at his election the cardinals first appropriated the right of choosing the supreme pontiff without the interference of the people, or of the other orders of the clergy. Popular indignation was loudly expressed. Obliged to seek safety by flight, he called upon the great European states to furnish him with supplies for the support of his rights against the disaffected citizens. His claims were allowed, and the riches of England and other countries were poured freely into his treasury. With these he made head against the insurgents; but such was the fierceness with which they resisted him, that they tore out the eyes of the clergy whom they met beyond the walls of the city; and obliged him to fix his residence at Verona, where he died in 1185. Urban III, Gregory VIII, and Clement III, passed their brief pontificates at a distance from Rome. The last-named pope, however, made peace with the senate and the people; and his successor, Celestine III, was enabled, by the strength of his position, to exercise the most important of his assumed privileges without interruption. Henry VI, who at one time received from his hands[98] the imperial crown, was at another punished by him with the ban of excommunication.c On his death he was succeeded by Innocent III.

INNOCENT III

Under Innocent III, the papal power rose to its utmost height.[99] The thirteenth century is nearly commensurate with this supremacy of the pope. Innocent III at its commencement calmly exercised as his right, and handed down strengthened and almost irresistible to his successors, that which, at its close, Boniface asserted with repulsive and ill-timed arrogance, endangered, undermined, and shook to its base.

The essential inherent supremacy of the spiritual over the temporal power, as of the soul over the body, as of eternity over time, as of Christ over Cæsar, as of God over man, was now an integral part of Christianity. Ideas obtain authority and dominion, not altogether from their intrinsic truth, but rather from their constant asseveration, especially when they fall in with the common hopes and fears, the wants and necessities of human nature. The mass of mankind have neither leisure nor ability to examine them; they fatigue, and so compel the world into their acceptance; more particularly if it is the duty, the passion, and the interest of one great associated body to perpetuate them, while it is neither the peculiar function, nor the manifest advantage of any large class or order to refute them.

The unity of the vast Christian republic was an imposing conception,[608] which, even now that history has shown its hopeless impossibility, still infatuates lofty minds; its impossibility, since it demands for its head not merely that infallibility in doctrine so boldly claimed in later times, but absolute impeccability, in every one of its possessors; more than impeccability, an all-commanding, indefeasible, unquestionable majesty of virtue, holiness, and wisdom. Without this it is a baseless tyranny, a senseless usurpation. In those days it struck in with the whole feudal system, which was one of strict gradation and subordination; to the hierarchy of church and state was equally wanting the crown, the sovereign liege lord.

When this idea was first promulgated in all its naked sternness by Gregory VII, it had come into collision with other ideas rooted with almost equal depth in the mind of man, that especially of the illimitable Cæsarian power, which though transferred to a German emperor, was still a powerful tradition, and derived great weight from its descent from Charlemagne. The humiliation of the emperor was degradation; it brought contempt on the office, scarcely redeemed by the abilities, successes, or even virtues of new sovereigns; the humiliation of the pope was a noble suffering in the cause of God and truth, the depression of patient holiness under worldly violence. In every schism the pope who maintained the loftiest churchmanship had eventually gained the superiority which the imperialising popes had sunk into impotence, obscurity, ignominy.

THE INFLUENCE OF THE CRUSADES ON PAPAL POWER

The Crusades, as elsewhere described, had made the pope not merely the spiritual, but in some sort the military suzerain of Europe; he had the power of summoning all Christendom to his banner; the raising the cross, the standard of the pope, was throughout Europe a general and compulsory levy, the Heerbann of all who bore arms, of all who could follow an army. That which was a noble act of devotion had become a duty; not to assume the cross was sin and impiety. The Crusades thus became a kind of forlorn hope upon which all the more dangerous and refractory of the temporal sovereigns might be employed, so as to waste their strength, if not lose their lives, by the accidents of the journey, or by the sword of the Mohammedan. If they resisted, the fearful excommunication hung over them, and was ratified by the fears and by the wavering allegiance of their subjects. If they obeyed and returned, as most of them did, with shame and defeat, they returned shorn of their power, lowered in the public estimation, and perhaps still pursued, on account of their ill success, with the inexorable interdict. It was thus by trammelling their adversaries with vows which they could not decline, and from which they could not extricate themselves; by thus consuming their wealth and resources on this wild and remote warfare, that the popes, who themselves decently eluded, or were prevented by age or alleged occupations from embarkation in these adventurous expeditions, broke and wasted away the power and influence of the emperors.

The Crusades, too, had now made the western world tributary to the popedom; the vast subventions raised for the Holy Land were to a certain extent at the disposal of the pope. The taxation of the clergy on his authority could not be refused for such an object; a tenth of all the exorbitant wealth of the hierarchy passed through his hands. An immense financial system grew up; papal collectors were in every land, papal bankers in every capital to transmit these subsidies.

[609]

But after all none of these accessory and, in some degree, fortuitous aids, could have raised the papal authority to its commanding height,[100] had it not possessed more sublime and more lawful claims to the reverence of mankind. It was still an assertion of eternal principles of justice, righteousness, and humanity. However it might trample on all justice, sacrifice righteousness to its own interests, plunge Europe in desolating wars, perpetuate strife in states, set sons in arms against their fathers, fathers against sons, it was still proclaiming a higher ultimate end. The papal language, the language of the clergy, was still ostentatiously, profoundly religious; it professed, even if itself did not always respect, even though it tampered with, the awful sense of retribution before an all-knowing, all-righteous God. In his highest pride, the pope was still the servant of the servants of God; in all his cruelty he boasted of his kindness to the transgressor; every contumacious emperor was a disobedient son; the excommunication was the voice of a parent, who affected at least reluctance to chastise.

If this great idea was ever to be realised of a Christian republic with a pope at its head—and that a pope of a high Christian character (in some respects, in all perhaps but one, in tolerance and gentleness almost impossible in his days, and the want of which, far from impairing, confirmed his strength)—none could bring more lofty, more various qualifications for its accomplishment, none could fall on more favourable times than Innocent III. Innocent was Giovanni Lothario Conti, an Italian of noble birth, but not of a family inextricably involved in the petty quarrels and interests of the princedoms of Romagna. He was of the Conti,[101] who derived their name in some remote time from their dignity. The elevation of his uncle to the pontificate as Clement III paved the way to his rapid rise. He was elevated in his twenty-ninth year to the cardinalate under the title vacated by his uncle.

Celestine on his death-bed had endeavoured to nominate his successor; he had offered to resign the papacy if the cardinals would elect John of Colonna. But, even if consistent with right and with usage, the words of dying sovereigns rarely take effect. Of twenty-eight cardinals, five only were absent; of the rest the unanimous vote fell on the youngest of their body, on the cardinal (Giovanni) Lothario. Lothario was only thirty-seven years old, almost an unprecedented age for a pope.[102] The cardinals who proclaimed him saluted him by the name of Innocent, in testimony of his blameless life. In his inauguration sermon broke forth the character of the man; the unmeasured assertion of his dignity, protestations of humility[610] which have a sound of pride. “Ye see what manner of servant that is whom the Lord hath set over his people; no other than the vicegerent of Christ, the successor of Peter. He stands in the midst between God and man; below God, above man; less than God, more than man. He judges all, is judged by none, for it is written, ‘I will judge.’ But he whom the pre-eminence of dignity exalts is lowered by his office of a servant, that so humility may be exalted, and pride abased; for God is against the high-minded, and to the lowly he shows mercy; and he who exalteth himself shall be abased. Every valley shall be lifted up, every hill and mountain laid low!”

The letters in which he announced his election to the king of France, and to the other realms of Christendom, blend a decent but exaggerated humility with the consciousness of power; Innocent’s confidence in himself transpires through his confidence in the divine protection.

The state of Christendom might have tempted a less ambitious prelate to extend and consolidate his supremacy. Wherever Innocent cast his eyes over Christendom and beyond the limits of Christendom, appeared disorder, contested thrones, sovereigns oppressing their subjects, subjects in arms against their sovereigns, the ruin of the Christian cause. In Italy the crown of Naples on the brows of an infant; the fairest provinces under the galling yoke of fierce German adventurers; the Lombard republics, Guelf or Ghibelline, at war within their walls, at war or in implacable animosity against each other; the empire, distracted by rival claimants for the throne, one vast scene of battle, intrigue, almost of anarchy; the tyrannical and dissolute Philip Augustus king of France, before long the tyrannical and feeble John of England.

The Byzantine Empire is tottering to its fall; the kingdom of Jerusalem confined almost to the city of Acre. Every realm seems to demand, or at least to invite, the interposition, the mediation, of the head of Christendom; in every land one party at least, or one portion of society, would welcome his interference in the last resort for refuge or for protection.

Nor did Innocent shrink from that which might have crushed a less energetic spirit to despair; from the Jordan to the Atlantic, from the Mediterranean to beyond the Baltic, his influence is felt and confessed; his vast correspondence shows at once the inexhaustible activity of his mind; he is involved simultaneously or successively in the vital interests of every kingdom in the western world.e

THE AUTOCRACY OF INNOCENT III

In order to secure Sicily for her son, the empress Constantia, pressed hard by parties, was obliged to accept the papal investment under the new conditions prescribed by the pontiff. After Constantia’s death (the 27th of November, 1198) Innocent ruled over all Sicily in the character of guardian. Still further the disputed imperial election, by which Germany was divided between Philip, duke of Swabia, and Otto, duke of Saxony, encouraged the pope to a larger extension of his power. Immediately after his accession, Innocent had already taken the oath of fealty to the imperial præfectus urbis; now he dislodged the vassals of the empire from the territory of Matilda, and established in Tuscany a civic league.

After he had thus consolidated his power in Italy, he commenced an energetic interference in German politics; for he forthwith claimed the[611] right to decide on a disputed imperial election. He must naturally have been inclined rather to the Guelf than to the Hohenstaufen candidate, so maintaining his pretensions he actually decided (1201) in favour of Otto IV. However, he was resisted with great energy by Philip’s party, and the flame of discord only burned so much the brighter in Germany. As Philip continued to gain more decisive advantages over his enemy, Innocent began negotiations with him, which seemed fraught with danger to Otto. Meanwhile Philip was murdered by Otto of Wittelsbach in Bamberg (1208). Otto IV was then universally recognised as emperor, and after he had satisfied the pope’s demands in all points he was crowned by him. But so soon as Otto had reached this goal of his wishes, he began again to vindicate the imperial rights in Italy, and to overthrow the pope’s new creations, without suffering himself to be turned from his path by the sentence of excommunication and dethronement which the deluded Innocent pronounced against him in November, 1210. Now he himself encouraged the canvass of the only surviving Hohenstaufen. Frederick appeared in Germany in 1212, and, upheld as he was by the pope and the king of France, he quickly won most of all ranks to his side. On the 25th of July, 1215, he received the German king’s crown at Aachen, and Otto down to his death (1218) had to content himself with his ancestral territories in Brunswick.

UNIVERSAL SWAY OF THE POPE

On every side, the thunder of Rome broke over the heads of princes. A certain Swero is excommunicated for usurping the crown of Norway. A legate, in passing through Hungary, is detained by the king: Innocent writes in tolerably mild terms to this potentate, but fails not to intimate that he might be compelled to prevent his son’s accession to the throne. The king of Leon had married his cousin, a princess of Castile. Innocent subjects the kingdom to an interdict. When the clergy of Leon petition him to remove it, because when they ceased to perform their functions the laity paid no tithes and listened to heretical teachers when orthodox mouths were mute, he consented that divine service with closed doors, but not the rites of burial, might be performed. The king at length gave way, and sent back his wife.

But a more illustrious victory of the same kind was obtained over Philip Augustus, who, having repudiated Ingeborg of Denmark, had contracted another marriage. The conduct of the king, though not without the usual excuse of those times, nearness of blood, was justly condemned; and Innocent did not hesitate to visit his sins upon the people by a general interdict. This, after a short demur from some bishops, was enforced throughout France; the dead lay unburied, and the living were cut off from the offices of religion, till Philip, thus subdued, took back his divorced wife. The submission of such a prince, not feebly superstitious, like his predecessor Robert, nor vexed with seditions, like the emperor Henry IV, but brave, firm, and victorious, is perhaps the proudest trophy on the scutcheon of Rome.

Compared with this, the subsequent triumph of Innocent over the pusillanimous John seems cheaply gained, though the surrender of a powerful kingdom into the vassalage of the pope may strike us as a proof of stupendous baseness on one side and audacity on the other.

A disputed election furnished Innocent with an opportunity of thrusting forward the cardinal Stephen Langton into the archbishopric of Canterbury[612] against the king’s will. When John resisted with anger, the pope laid England under an interdict, in 1208, and afterwards excommunicated the king; the latter sought by reckless cruelty to avenge himself on the clergy, and by severe oppression to make sure of his vassals. At last Innocent deposed him from his kingdom, and handed it over to the king of France. But while he was arming himself for the conquest, John, unable to trust his vassals, yielded in all points, and even received his kingdom in fee from the pope under circumstances of the greatest humiliation. Now was England yielded up to the discretion of an arbitrary pope and a contemptible king; this united the prelates and the barons to wrest Magna Charta from the king in 1215. In vain the pope with spiritual and the king with temporal weapons strove to effect its repeal; John’s death, however, in 1216, quickly put an end to internal discord.

Still greater prospects seemed to open themselves before the pope in Constantinople. Although the enthusiasm for crusades was already much diminished, nevertheless Innocent had succeeded, by unwearied efforts, in collecting a new army at Venice in 1202. The crafty doge, Enrico Dandolo, notwithstanding all papal admonitions, had first made use of the army for the reconquest of Zara (Jadera); it was then induced by the magnificent promises of a Greek prince, Alexius, to undertake an expedition against Constantinople; and when the reinstated emperor Isaac Angelus was unable to fulfil these promises, Constantinople was conquered, and a Latin empire established there, by the exaltation of Baldwin, count of Flanders, to the throne. Thus the church of Constantinople seemed now to be brought into subjection to the Roman see. However, even now, no one doubted the precariousness of this acquisition. For the new empire already contained the germ of dissolution; on the other hand it completely foiled the powerful enterprise in behalf of Palestine.

In the latter year of his life Innocent devoted especial attention to the Holy Land: King Frederick took the cross even at his coronation; and at the Lateran council of the year 1215, one of the most brilliant which had ever been held, the accomplishment of another crusade was one of the chief ends in view. The enthusiasm for the Holy Land was indeed by no means extinct; but in Germany the continuance of the twofold reign of Frederick and Otto led to many unfavourable opinions of the Roman see, which necessarily obstructed its readiness to undertake a fresh crusade.k

MILMAN’S ESTIMATE OF INNOCENT III

In the full vigour of his manhood died Innocent III, 1216. He, of all the popes, had advanced the most exorbitant pretensions, and those pretensions had been received by an age most disposed to accept them with humble deference. The high and blameless, in some respects wise and gentle, character of Innocent might seem to approach more nearly than any one of the whole succession of Roman bishops to the ideal height of a supreme pontiff; in him, if ever, might appear to be realised the churchman’s highest conception of the vicar of Christ.

Gregory VII and Boniface VIII, the first and the last of the aggressive popes, and the aged Gregory IX, had no doubt more rugged warfare to encounter, fiercer and more unscrupulous enemies to subdue. But in all these there was a personal sternness, a contemptuous haughtiness; theirs was a worldly majesty. The pride of Innocent was calmer, more self-possessed;[613] his dignity was less disturbed by degrading collisions with rude adversaries; he died on his unshaken throne, in the plenitude of his seemingly unquestioned power. Yet if we pause and contemplate, as we cannot but pause and contemplate, the issue of this highest, in a certain sense noblest and most religious contest for the papal ascendency over the world of man, there is an inevitable conviction of the unreality of that papal power. With all the grandeur of his views, with all the persevering energy of his measures, throughout Innocent’s reign, everywhere we behold failure, everywhere immediate discomfiture, or transitory success which paved the way for future disaster. The higher the throne of the pope the more manifestly were its foundations undermined, unsound, unenduring.

Even Rome does not always maintain her peaceful subservience. Her obedience is interrupted, precarious; that of transient awe, not of deep attachment, or rooted reverence. In the empire it is impossible not to burden the memory of Innocent with the miseries of the long civil war. Otto without the aid of the pope could not have maintained the contest for a year; with all the pope’s aid he had sunk into contempt, almost insignificance; he was about to be abandoned, if not actually abandoned, by the pope himself. The casual blow of the assassin alone prevented the complete triumph of Philip. Already he had extorted his absolution; Innocent was compelled to yield, and could not yield without loss of dignity. The triumph of Otto leads to as fierce, and more perilous resistance to the papal power than could have been expected from the haughtiness of the Hohenstaufen. The pope has an irresistible enemy in Italy itself. Innocent is compelled to abandon the great object of the papal policy, the breaking the line of succession in the house of Swabia, and to assist in the elevation of a Swabian emperor. He must yield to the union of the crown of Sicily with that of Germany, and so bequeath to his successors the obstinate and perilous strife with Frederick II.

In France, Philip Augustus is forced to seem, yet only seem, to submit; the miseries of his unhappy wife are but aggravated by the papal protection. The death of Agnes of Méran, rather than Innocent’s authority, heals the strife. The sons of the proscribed concubine succeed to the throne of France.

In England the barons refuse to desert John when under the interdict of the pope; when the pope becomes the king’s ally, resenting the cession of[614] the realm, they withdraw their allegiance. Even in Stephen Langton, who owes his promotion to the pope, the Englishman prevails over the ecclesiastic; the Great Charter is extorted from the king when under the express protection of the holy see, and maintained resolutely against the papal sentence of abrogation; and in the Great Charter is laid the first stone of the religious as well as the civil liberties of the land.

Venice, in the crusade, deludes, defies, baffles the pope. The crusaders become her army, besiege, fight, conquer for her interests. In vain the pope protests, threatens, anathematises; Venice calmly proceeds in the subjugation of Zara. To the astonishment, the indignation of the pope, the crusaders’ banners wave not over Jerusalem, but over Constantinople. But for her own wisdom, Venice might have given an emperor to the capital of the East; she secures the patriarchate almost in defiance of the pope; only when she has entirely gained her ends does she submit to the petty and unregarded vengeance of the pope.

Even in the Albigensian war the success was indeed complete; heresy was crushed, but by means of which Innocent disapproved in his heart. He had let loose a terrible force, which he could neither arrest nor control. The pope can do everything but show mercy or moderation. He could not shake off, the papacy has never shaken off, the burden of its complicity in the remorseless carnage perpetrated by the crusaders in Languedoc, in the crimes and cruelties of Simon de Montfort. A dark and ineffaceable stain of fraud and dissimulation too has gathered around the fame of Innocent himself.[103] Heresy was quenched in blood; but the earth sooner or later gives out the terrible cry of blood for vengeance against murderers and oppressors.

The great religious event of this pontificate, the foundation of the Mendicant orders, that which perhaps perpetuated, or at least immeasurably strengthened, the papal power for two centuries, was extorted from the reluctant pope. Both St. Dominic and St. Francis were coldly received, almost contemptuously repelled. It was not till either his own more mature deliberation or wiser counsel, which took the form of divine admonition, prevented this fatal error and prophetically revealed the secret of their strength and of their irresistible influence throughout Christendom, that Innocent awoke to wisdom. He then bequeathed these two great standing armies to the papacy; armies maintained without cost, sworn, more than sworn, bound by the unbroken chains of their own zeal and devotion to unquestioning, unhesitating service throughout Christendom, speaking all languages. They were colonies of religious militia, natives of every land, yet under foreign control and guidance. Their whole power, importance, perhaps possessions rested on their fidelity to the see of Rome, that fidelity guaranteed by the charter of their existence. Well might they appear so great as they are seen by the eye of Dante, like the cherubim and seraphim in paradise.e

FREDERICK II AT WAR WITH THE PAPACY

Honorius III, previously called Cencio Savelli, who succeeded Innocent, 1216, and governed the Roman church more than ten years, did not perform so many deeds worthy of being recorded; yet he was very careful that the[615] Romish power should receive no diminution. Pursuing this course, he had a grievous falling out with the emperor Frederick II, a magnanimous prince, whom he himself had crowned at Rome in the year 1220. Frederick, imitating his grandfather, laboured to establish and enlarge the authority of the emperors in Italy, to depress the minor states and republics of Lombardy, and to diminish the immense wealth and power of the pontiffs and the bishops; and to accomplish these objects, he continually deferred the crusade, which he had promised with an oath. Honorius, on the other hand, continually urged Frederick to enter on his expedition to Palestine; yet he secretly encouraged, animated, and supported the cities and republics that resisted the emperor, and raised various impediments to the latter’s increasing power. Still, this hostility did not, at present, break out in open war.

But under Gregory IX—whose former name was Ugolino, and who was elevated from the bishopric of Ostia to the pontificate, 1227, an old man, but still bold and resolute—the fire, which had been long burning in secret, burst into a flame.[104] In the year 1227 the pontiff excommunicated the emperor, who still deferred his expedition to Palestine; but without proceeding in due form of ecclesiastical law, and without regarding the emperor’s excuse of ill health. In the year 1228 the emperor sailed with his fleet to Palestine; but instead of waging war as he was bound to do, he made a truce with Saladin on recovering Jerusalem. While he was absent the pontiff raised war against him in Apulia, and endeavoured to excite all Europe to oppose him. Therefore Frederick hastened back, in the year 1229, and after vanquishing his enemies, made his peace with the pontiff in the year 1230. But this peace could not be durable, as Frederick would not submit to the control of the pontiff. Therefore, as the emperor continued to press heavily on the republics of Lombardy, which were friendly to the pontiff, and transferred Sardinia, which the pontiff claimed as part of the patrimony of the church, to his son Enzio; and wished to withdraw Rome itself from the power of the pontiff; and did other things very offensive to Gregory—the pontiff, in the year 1239, again laid him under anathemas; and accused him to all the sovereigns of Europe of many crimes and enormities, and particularly of speaking contemptuously of the Christian religion.

The emperor, on the other hand, avenged the injuries that he received, both by written publications and by his military operations in Italy, in which he was for the most part successful; and thus he defended his reputation, and also brought the pontiff into perplexity and difficulty. To rescue himself, in some measure, in the year 1240 Gregory summoned a general council to meet at Rome, intending to hurl the emperor from his throne by the united suffrages of the assembled fathers. But Frederick, in the year 1241, captured the Genoese fleet, which was carrying a great part of the fathers to the council at Rome, and seizing as well their treasures as themselves, he cast them into prison. Broken down by these calamities, and by others of no less magnitude, Gregory shortly after sank into the grave.

The successor of Gregory, Goffredo Castiglione of Milan, who assumed the name of Celestine IV, died before his consecration; and after a long interregnum, in the year 1243, Senibaldi, a Genoese, descended from the counts Fieschi, succeeded under the pontifical name of Innocent IV, a man inferior to none of his predecessors in arrogance and insolence of temper. Between him and Frederick there were at first negotiations for peace; but the terms insisted on by the pontiff were deemed too harsh by the emperor.[616] Hence Innocent, feeling himself unsafe in any part of Italy, in 1244 removed from Genoa to Lyons in France; and the next year assembled a council there, in the presence of which, but without its approbation (whatever the Roman writers may affirm to the contrary), he declared Frederick unworthy of the imperial throne.

This most unrighteous decision of the pontiff had such influence upon the German princes, who were infected with the superstition of the times, that they elected first Henry, landgraf of Thuringia, and on his death William, count of Holland, to the imperial throne. Frederick continued the war vigorously and courageously in Italy, and with various successes, until a dysentery terminated his life in Apulia, on the 13th of December, 1250. On the death of his foe, Innocent returned to Italy in the year 1251. From this time especially (though their origin was much earlier) the two noted factions of Guelfs and Ghibellines, of which the former sided with the pontiffs and the latter with the emperors, most unhappily rent asunder and devastated all Italy.

Alexander IV, whose name as count of Segni and bishop of Ostia was Rinaldo, became pontiff on the death of Innocent (1254) and reigned six years and six months. Excepting some efforts to put down a grandson of Frederick II, called Conradin, and to quiet the perpetual commotions of Italy, he busied himself more in regulating the internal affairs of the church than in national concerns. The mendicant friars, Dominicans and Franciscans, are under especial obligations to him. Urban IV, before his election to the pontificate in 1261, was James, patriarch of Jerusalem, a man born of obscure parentage at Troyes. He distinguished himself more by instituting the festival of the Body of Christ than by any other achievement. He indeed formed many projects: but he executed few of them, being prevented by death, in the year 1264, after a short reign of three years. Not much longer was the reign of Clement IV, a Frenchman and bishop of Sabina, under the name of Guido Fulcodi (Guy Foulques), who was created pontiff in the year 1265. Yet he is better known on several accounts, but especially for conferring the kingdom of Naples on Charles of Anjou, brother to Louis IX, the king of France. Charles is well known to have beheaded Conradin, the only surviving grandson of Frederick II, after conquering him in battle, and this, if not by the counsel, at least with the consent of the pontiff.[105]

On the death of Clement IV[106] there were vehement contests among the cardinals, respecting the election of a new pontiff; which continued till the third year, when, at last, 1271, Teobaldo of Piacenza, archdeacon of Liège, was chosen, and assumed the name of Gregory X. He had been called from Palestine, where he had resided; and having witnessed the depressed state of the Christians in the Holy Land, nothing more engaged his thoughts than sending them succour.

COUNCIL AT LYONS

Accordingly, as soon as he was consecrated, he appointed a council to be held at Lyons in France, and attended it in person in the month of May, 1274. The principal subjects discussed were the re-establishment of the[617] Christian dominion in the East, and the reunion of the Greek and Latin churches. This has commonly been reckoned the fourteenth general council, and is particularly noticeable for the new regulations it established for the election of Roman pontiffs, and the celebrated provision which is still in force requiring the cardinal electors to be shut up in conclave. Neither did the pontiff, though of a milder disposition than many others, hesitate to repeat and inculcate that odious maxim of Gregory VII, that the pontiff is supreme lord of the world, and especially of the Roman Empire. For in the year 1271 he sent a menacing letter to the princes of Germany, admonishing them to elect an emperor, and without regarding the wishes or the claims of Alfonso, king of Castile; otherwise he would appoint a head of the empire himself. Accordingly, the princes assembled, and elected Rudolf I, of the house of Habsburg.

Gregory X died in the year 1276, and his three immediate successors were all chosen and died in the same year. Innocent V, previously Pietro di Tarantaisia, was a Dominican monk, and bishop of Ostia. Adrian V was a Genoese, named Ottoboni, and cardinal of St. Adrian. John XXI, previously Pedro, bishop of Tusculum, was a native of Portugal. The next pontiff, who came to the chair in 1277, reigned longer. He was Giovanni Gaetano, of the family of Ursini, a Roman, and cardinal of St. Nicholas, who assumed the title of Nicholas III. He greatly enlarged what is called the patrimony of St. Peter; and, as his actions show, had formed other great projects, which he would undoubtedly have accomplished, as he was a man of energy and enterprise, had he not prematurely died in the year 1280.

His successor, Martin IV, elected by the cardinals in 1281, was a French nobleman, Simon de Brion, a man of equal boldness and energy of character with Nicholas. For he excommunicated Michael Palæologus, the Greek emperor, because he had violated the compact of union with the Latins, which was settled at the Council of Lyons. Pedro of Aragon he deprived of his kingdoms and of all his property, because he had seized upon Sicily; and he bestowed them gratuitously on Charles, son to the king of France. He was projecting many other things, consonant with the views of the pontiffs, when he was suddenly overtaken by death in 1285. His plans were prosecuted by his successor, Giacomo Savelli, who was elected in 1285 and took the name of Honorius IV. But a distressing disease in his joints, of which he died in 1287, prevented him from attempting anything further. Nicholas IV, previously Girolamo d’Ascoli, bishop of Palestrina, who attained to the pontifical chair in 1288, and died in 1292, was able to attend to the affairs both of the church and of the nations with more diligence and care. Hence he is represented in history sometimes as the arbiter in the disputes of sovereign princes, sometimes as the strenuous asserter of the rights and prerogatives of the church, and again as the assiduous promoter of missionary labours among the Tatars and other nations of the East. But nothing lay nearer his heart than the restoration of the dominion of the Christians in Palestine, where their cause was nearly ruined. In this he laboured strenuously indeed, but in vain; for death intercepted all his projects.

After his death the church was without a head till the third year, the cardinals disagreeing exceedingly among themselves. At length, on the 5th of July, 1294, they unanimously chose an aged man, greatly venerated for his sanctity—Pietro, surnamed di Murrhone, from a mountain in which he led a solitary and very austere life; he assumed the pontifical name of Celestine V. But as the austerity of his life tacitly censured the corrupt morals of the Romish court, and especially of the cardinals, and as he showed very[618] plainly that he was more solicitous to advance the holiness of the church than its worldly grandeur, he was soon considered as unworthy of the office which he had reluctantly assumed. Hence some of the cardinals, and especially Benedict Cajetan, persuaded him very easily to abdicate the chair, in the fourth month of his pontificate. He died, 1296, in the castle of Fumone, where his successor detained him a captive, lest he should make some disturbance. But afterwards Clement V enrolled him in the calendar of the saints. To him the sect of Benedictine monks who were called, after him, Celestines, owed its origin; a sect still existing in Italy and France, though now nearly extinct, and differing from the other Benedictines by their more rigid rules of life.

ACCESSION OF BONIFACE VIII

He was succeeded in 1294 by Benedict, Cardinal Cajetan, by whose persuasions he had been chiefly led to resign the pontificate, and who now assumed the name of Boniface VIII. This was a man formed to produce disturbance both in church and state, and eager for confirming and enlarging the power of the pontiffs, to the highest degree of rashness. From his first entrance on the office he arrogated to himself sovereign power over all things sacred and secular; overawed kings and states by his fulminations; decided important controversies at his will; enlarged the code of canon law by new accessions, namely, by the sixth book of Decretals; made war, among others, particularly on the noble family of Colonna, which had opposed his election—in a word, he seemed to be another Gregory VII at the head of the church. At the close of the century, he established the year of jubilee, which is still solemnised at Rome.

That the governors of the church, as well of highest rank as of inferior, were addicted to all those vices which are the most unbecoming to men in their stations, is testified most abundantly. As for the Greek and oriental clergy, many of whom lived under oppressive governments, we shall say nothing; although their faults are sufficiently manifest. But of the faults of the Latins silence would be the less proper, in proportion to the certainty that from this source the whole community was involved in the greatest calamities. All the honest and good men of that age ardently wished for a reformation of the church, both in its head and in its members, as they themselves expressed it. But to so desirable an event there were still many obstacles. First, the power of the pontiffs was so confirmed by its long continuance that it seemed to be immovably established. In the next place, extravagant superstition held the minds of the majority of the people in abject slavery. And lastly, the ignorance and barbarism of the times quickly extinguished the sparks of truth that appeared from time to time. Yet the dominion of the Roman pontiffs, impregnable and durable as it seemed to be, was gradually undermined and weakened in this century, partly by the rash insolence of the pontiffs themselves and partly by the occurrence of certain unexpected events.

PHILIP THE FAIR OVERPOWERS THE PAPACY

The commencement of this important change must be referred to the contest between Boniface VIII, who governed the Latin church at the beginning of this century, and Philip the Fair, king of France. This high-minded[619] sovereign first taught the Europeans what the emperors had in vain attempted—that the Roman bishops could be vanquished, and be laid under restraint. In a very haughty letter addressed to Philip, Boniface maintained that all kings and persons whatever, and the king of France as well as others, by divine command, owed perfect obedience to the Roman pontiff, and this not merely in religious matters, but likewise in secular and human affairs. The king replied with extreme bitterness. The pontiff repeated his former assertions with greater arrogance, and published the celebrated bull called Unam sanctam; in which he asserted that Jesus Christ had granted a twofold power or sword to his church, a spiritual and a temporal; that the whole human race was subjected to the pontiff; and that all who dissented from this doctrine were heretics, and could not expect to be saved. The king, on the contrary, in an assembly of his nobles, in 1303, through the famous lawyer, Guillaume de Nogaret, publicly accused the pontiff of heresy, simony, dishonesty, and other enormities; and urged the calling of a general council to depose from his office a pontiff so very wicked. The pontiff, in return, excommunicated the king and all his adherents the same year.

Soon after receiving this sentence, Philip again, in an assembly of the states of his kingdom, entered a formal complaint against the pontiff, by men of the highest reputation and influence; and appealed to the decision of a future general council of the church. He then despatched Guillaume de Nogaret, with some others, into Italy, to rouse the people to insurrection, and to bring the pontiff prisoner to Lyons, where he wished the council to be held. Nogaret, who was a resolute and energetic man, having drawn over to his interest the Colonna family, which was at variance with the pontiff, raised a small force, suddenly attacked Boniface, who was living securely at Anagni, made him prisoner, wounded him, and, among other severe indignities, struck him on the head with his iron gauntlet. The people of Anagni, indeed, rescued the pontiff from the hands of his furious enemy; but he died shortly after, at Rome, in the month of October, from rage and anguish of mind.

Benedict XI, previously Nicolo of Trevigio, the successor of Boniface, profiting by his example, restored the king of France and his kingdom to their former honours and privileges, without even being solicited; but he was unwilling to absolve from his crime Nogaret, who had so grievously offended against the pontifical dignity. This daring man, therefore, prosecuted strenuously the suit commenced against Boniface in the Romish court; and, in the name of the king, demanded that a mark of infamy should be set upon the deceased pontiff.

Benedict XI died in the year 1304; and Philip, by his secret machinations, caused Bertrand d’Agoust, a Frenchman, and archbishop of Bordeaux, to be created pontiff at Rome, on the 5th of June, 1305. For the contest of the king against the pontiffs was not yet wholly settled, Nogaret not being absolved, and it might easily break out again. Besides, the king thirsted for revenge, and designed to extort from the court of Rome a condemnation of Boniface; he also meditated the destruction of the Templars, and other matters of great importance which he could hardly expect from an Italian pontiff. He therefore wished to have a French pontiff, whom he could control according to his pleasure, and who would be in a degree dependent on him. The new pontiff, who took the name of Clement V, remained in France, as the king wished, and transferred the pontifical court to Avignon, where it continued for seventy years. This period the Italians call the Babylonian Captivity.n

[620]

HALLAM ON THE CLIMAX OF PAPAL POWER

The noonday of papal dominion extends from the pontificate of Innocent III inclusively to that of Boniface VIII; or, in other words, through the thirteenth century. Rome inspired during this age all the terror of her ancient name. She was once more the mistress of the world, and kings were her vassals. In her long contention with the house of Swabia, she finally triumphed. After his deposition by the Council of Lyons, the affairs of Frederick II went rapidly into decay. With every allowance for the enmity of the Lombards and the jealousies of Germany, it must be confessed, that his proscription by Innocent IV and Alexander IV was the main cause of the ruin of his family.

This general supremacy effected by the Roman church over mankind in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, derived material support from the promulgation of the canon law. By means of her new jurisprudence Rome acquired in every country a powerful body of advocates who, though many of them were laymen, would, with the usual bigotry of lawyers, defend every pretension or abuse, to which their received standard of authority gave sanction.

Next to the canon law, we should reckon the institution of the mendicant orders among those circumstances which principally contributed to the aggrandisement of Rome. By the acquisition, and in some respects the enjoyment, or at least ostentation of immense riches, the ancient monastic orders had forfeited much of the public esteem. No means appeared so efficacious to counteract this effect as the institution of religious societies, strictly debarred from the insidious temptations of wealth. These new preachers were received with astonishing approbation by the laity, whose religious zeal usually depends a good deal upon their opinion of sincerity and disinterestedness in their pastors. And the progress of the Dominican and Franciscan friars in the thirteenth century bears a remarkable analogy to that of the English Methodists. Aware of the powerful support they might receive in turn, the pontiffs of the thirteenth century accumulated benefits upon the disciples of Francis and Dominic. They were exempted from episcopal authority; they were permitted to preach or hear confessions without leave of the ordinary, to accept of legacies, and to inter in their churches. It was naturally to be expected that the objects of such extensive favours would repay their benefactors by a more than usual obsequiousness and alacrity in their service. Accordingly, the Dominicans and Franciscans vied with each other in magnifying the papal supremacy.

We should not overlook, among the causes that contributed to the dominion of the popes, their prerogative of dispensing with ecclesiastical ordinances. The most remarkable exercise of this was as to the canonical impediments of matrimony. Such strictness as is prescribed by the Christian religion with respect to divorce was very unpalatable to the barbarous nations. They in fact paid it little regard; under the Merovingian dynasty, even private men put away their wives at pleasure. In many capitularies of Charlemagne, we find evidence of the prevailing license of repudiation and even polygamy. The principles which the church inculcated were in appearance the very reverse of this laxity; yet they led indirectly to the same effect. Marriages were forbidden, not merely within the limits which nature, or those inveterate associations which we call nature, have rendered sacred, but as far as the seventh degree of collateral consanguinity, computed from a common ancestor. Not only was affinity, or relationship by marriage,[621] put upon the same footing as that by blood; but a fantastical connection, called spiritual affinity, was invented in order to prohibit marriage between a sponsor and godchild. A union, however innocently contracted, between parties thus circumstanced, might at any time be dissolved, and their subsequent cohabitation forbidden. Innocent III laid down as a maxim that out of the plenitude of his power he might lawfully dispense with the law; and accordingly granted, among other instances of this prerogative, dispensations from impediments of marriage to the emperor Otto IV. Similar indulgences were given by his successors, though they did not become usual for some ages. The Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 removed a great part of the restraint by permitting marriages beyond the fourth degree, or what we call third cousins; and dispensations had been made more easy when it was discovered that they might be converted into a source of profit. They served a more important purpose by rendering it necessary for the princes of Europe, who seldom could marry into one another’s houses without transgressing the canonical limits, to keep on good terms with the court of Rome, which, in several instances that have been mentioned, fulminated its censures against sovereigns who lived without permission in what was considered an incestuous union.

The dispensing power of the popes was exerted in several cases of a temporal nature, particularly in the legitimation of children for purposes even of succession. This Innocent III claimed as an indirect consequence of his right to remove the canonical impediment which bastardy offered to ordination; since it would be monstrous, he says, that one who is legitimate for spiritual functions should continue otherwise in any civil matter. But the most important and mischievous species of dispensations was from the observance of promissory oaths. Two principles are laid down in the Decretals—that an oath disadvantageous to the church is not binding; and that one extorted by force was of slight obligation, and might be annulled by ecclesiastical authority. As the first of these maxims gave the most unlimited privilege to the popes of breaking all faith of treaties which thwarted their interest or passion, a privilege which they continually exercised, so the second was equally convenient to princes, weary of observing engagements towards their subjects or their neighbours.

It must appear to every careful inquirer that the papal authority, though manifesting outwardly more show of strength every year, had been secretly undermined and lost a great deal of its hold upon public opinion, before the accession of Boniface VIII, in 1294, to the pontifical throne. The clergy were rendered sullen by demands of money, invasions of the legal right of patronage, and unreasonable partiality to the mendicant orders; a part of the mendicants themselves had begun to declaim against the corruptions of the papal court; while the laity, subjects alike and sovereigns, looked upon both the head and the members of the hierarchy with jealousy and dislike. Boniface, full of inordinate arrogance and ambition, and not sufficiently sensible of this gradual change in human opinion, endeavoured to strain to a higher pitch the despotic pretensions of former pontiffs. As Gregory VII appears the most usurping of mankind till we read the history of Innocent III, so Innocent III is thrown into shade by the superior audacity of Boniface VIII. But independently of the less favourable dispositions of the public, he wanted the most essential quality for an ambitious pope—reputation for integrity.

The sensible decline of the papacy is to be dated from the pontificate of Boniface VIII, who had strained its authority to a higher pitch than any[622] of his predecessors. There is a spell wrought by uninterrupted good fortune, which captivates men’s understanding, and persuades them, against reasoning and analogy, that violent power is immortal and irresistible. The spell is broken by the first change of success. In tracing the papal empire over mankind, we have no marked and definite crisis of revolution. But slowly, like the retreat of waters or the stealthy pace of old age, that extraordinary power over human opinion has been subsiding for five centuries. As the retrocession of the Roman terminus under Adrian gave the first overt proof of decline in the ambitious energies of that empire, so the tacit submission of the successors of Boniface VIII to the king of France might have been hailed by Europe as a token that their influence was beginning to abate. Imprisoned, insulted, deprived eventually of life by the violence of Philip, a prince excommunicated, and who had gone all lengths in defying and despising the papal jurisdiction, Boniface had every claim to be avenged by the inheritors of the same spiritual dominion. When Benedict XI rescinded the bulls of his predecessor, and admitted Philip the Fair to communion without insisting on any concessions, he acted perhaps prudently, but gave a fatal blow to the temporal authority of Rome.l

FOOTNOTES

---

[623]

CHAPTER IV. FROM EXILE TO SUPREMACY

The period in the papal history has arrived which in the Italian writers is called the Babylonish Captivity; it lasted more than seventy years (from 1305 to 1376). Rome is no longer the metropolis of Christendom; the pope is a French prelate. The successor of St. Peter is not on St. Peter’s throne; he is environed with none of the traditionary majesty or traditionary sanctity of the Eternal City; he has abandoned the holy bodies of the apostles, the churches of the apostles. It is perhaps the most marvellous part of its history that the papacy, having sunk so low, sank no lower; that it recovered from its degradation; that, from a satellite, almost a slave of the king of France, the pontiff ever emerged again to be an independent potentate; and, although the great line of mediæval popes, of Gregory, of Alexander III, and the Innocents, expired in Boniface VIII, he could resume even his modified supremacy. There is no proof so strong of the vitality of the papacy as that it could establish the law that wherever the pope is, there is the throne of St. Peter; that he could cease to be bishop of Rome in all but in name, and then take back again the abdicated bishopric.

Never was revolution more sudden, more total, it might seem more enduring in its consequences. The close of the last century had seen Boniface VIII advancing higher pretensions, if not wielding more actual power than any former pontiff; the acknowledged pacificator of the world, the arbiter between the kings of France and England, claiming and exercising feudal as well as spiritual supremacy over many kingdoms, bestowing crowns as in Hungary, awarding the empire; with millions of pilgrims at the jubilee in Rome, still the centre of Christendom, paying him homage which bordered on adulation and pouring the riches of the world at his feet. The first decade of the new century is not more than half passed; Pope Clement V is a voluntary prisoner, but not the less a prisoner in the realm, or almost within the precincts of France; struggling in vain to escape from the tyranny of his inexorable master, and to break or elude the fetters wound around him by his own solemn engagements. He is almost forced to condemn his predecessor for crimes of which he could hardly believe him guilty;[624] to accept a niggardly, and perhaps never-fulfilled penance from men almost murderers of a pope; to sacrifice, on evidence which he himself manifestly mistrusted, the Templars, one of the great military orders of Christendom, to the hatred or avarice of Philip. The pope, from lord over the freedom of the world, has ceased to be a free agent.b

CLEMENT V

The pontiffs being at a distance, the Ghibelline faction in Italy, which was hostile to the pontiffs, assumed greater boldness than formerly, and not only invaded and laid waste the territories of St. Peter, but also assailed the pontifical authority by their publications. Hence a number of cities revolted from the popes; Rome itself became the parent and fomenter of tumults, cabals, and civil wars; and the laws and decrees sent thither from France were publicly treated with contempt, and not merely by the nobles but also by the common citizens. A great part of Europe followed the example of Italy; and numberless examples show that the people of Europe attributed far less power to the fulminations and decrees issued from France than to those issued from Rome. Various seditions, therefore, were raised in one place and another against the pontiffs, which they were unable to subdue and put down, notwithstanding that the inquisitors were most active in the discharge of their functions.

As the French pontiffs could derive but little revenue from Italy, which was rent into factions, seditious, and devastated, they were obliged to devise new modes of raising money. They, therefore, not only sold indulgences to the people more frequently than formerly, to the great indignation of kings and princes, but they likewise required enormous prices to be paid for their letters or bulls of every kind. In this thing John XXII showed himself peculiarly adroit and shrewd; for though he did not first invent the regulations and fees of the apostolic chancery, yet the Romish writers admit that he enlarged them and reduced them to a more convenient form. He also is said to have imposed that tribute which under the title of annates is customarily paid to the pontiffs; yet the first commencement of it was anterior to that age. Moreover, these French pontiffs, subverting the rights of election, assumed the power of conferring all sacred offices, whether high or low, according to their own pleasure; by which means they raised immense sums of money. Hence, under these pontiffs, those most odious terms reservation, provision, and expectative, rarely used before, were now everywhere heard, and they called forth the bitterest complaints from all the nations of Europe; and these complaints increased immeasurably when some of the pontiffs, John XXII, Clement VI, Gregory XI, publicly announced that they had reserved all churches to themselves, and that they would provide for all without exception, by virtue of the sovereign right which Christ had conferred on the vicars, or in the plenitude of their power. By these and other artifices for filling their treasury and amassing property these indiscreet pontiffs heaped additional odium on the apostolic see, and thus weakened very considerably the papal empire, which began to decline from the time of Boniface.

Clement V was governed all his life by the will and pleasure of Philip the Fair, king of France. Guillaume de Nogaret, the implacable foe of Boniface VIII, though excommunicated, resolutely prosecuted his own cause and that of King Philip against Boniface in the papal court; a transaction which, we believe, is without a parallel. Philip wished to have the body of[625] Boniface disinterred and publicly burned. With great difficulty Clement averted this infamy by his entreaties and advice; but in everything else he had to obey the king. Accordingly he abrogated the laws enacted by Boniface, granted the king five years’ tithes, absolved Nogaret from all crime, after imposing on him a slight penance, which he never performed; restored the inhabitants of Anagni to their former reputable and good standing, and held a general council at Vienne, 1311, that Philip’s pleasure might be gratified in the suppression of the Templars.c

THE FATE OF THE TEMPLARS

The end of Clement himself and of Clement’s master, the king of France, drew near. But the pope and the king must be preceded into the realm of darkness and to the judgment-seat of heaven by other victims. The tragedy of the Templars had not yet drawn to its close.[107] The four great dignitaries of the order, the grand-master De Molay, Guy the commander of Normandy, son of the dauphin of Auvergne, the commander of Aquitaine Godfrey de Gonaville, the great visitor of France Hugues de Peraud, were still pining in the royal dungeons. It was necessary to determine on their fate. The king and the pope were now equally interested in burying the affair forever in silence and oblivion. So long as these men lived uncondemned, undoomed, the order was not extinct. A commission was named. The grand-master and the rest were found guilty, and were to be sentenced to perpetual imprisonment.

Six years of dreary imprisonment had passed over their heads; of their valiant brethren the most valiant had been burned alive, the recreants had purchased their lives by confession; the pope in a full council had condemned and dissolved the order. If a human mind, a mind like that of De Molay, not the most stubborn, could be broken by suffering and humiliation, it must have yielded to this long and crushing imprisonment. The cardinal-archbishop of Albi ascended a raised platform; he read the confessions of the knights, the proceedings of the court; he enlarged on the criminality of the order, on the holy justice of the pope, and the devout, self-sacrificing zeal of the king; he was proceeding to the final, the fatal sentence. At that instant the grand-master advanced; his gesture implored silence; judges and people gazed in awe-struck apprehension.

In a calm, clear voice De Molay spoke: “Before heaven and earth, on the verge of death, where the least falsehood bears like an intolerable weight upon the soul, I protest that we have richly deserved death, not on account of any heresy or sin of which ourselves or our order have been guilty, but because we have yielded, to save our lives, to the seductive words of the pope and of the king; and so by our confessions brought shame and ruin on our blameless, holy, and orthodox brotherhood.”

The cardinals stood confounded; the people could not suppress their profound sympathy. The assembly was hastily broken up; the provost was commanded to conduct the prisoners back to their dungeons: “To-morrow we will hold further council.”

But on the moment that the king heard these things, without a day’s delay, without the least consultation with the ecclesiastical authorities, he ordered them to death as relapsed heretics. On the island in the Seine,[626] where now stands the statue of Henry IV, between the king’s garden on one side and the convent of the Augustinian monks on the other, the two pyres were raised (two out of the four had shrunk back into their ignoble confessions). It was the hour of vespers when these two aged and noble men were led out to be burned. Both, as the smoke rose to their lips, as the fire crept up to their vital parts, continued solemnly to aver the innocence, the Catholic faith of the order. The king himself beheld this hideous spectacle.

The wonder and the pity of the times which immediately followed not only arrayed De Molay in the robes of the martyr, but gave him the terrible language of a prophet. “Clement, iniquitous and cruel judge, I summon thee within forty days to meet me before the throne of the Most High.” According to some accounts this fearful sentence included the king, by whom, if uttered, it might have been heard. The earliest allusion to this awful speech does not contain that striking particularity which, if part of it, would be fatal to its credibility—the precise date of Clement’s death. It was not till the year after that Clement and King Philip passed to their account. The poetic relation of Godfrey de Paris simply states that De Molay declared that God would revenge their death on their unrighteous judges. The rapid fate of these two men during the next year might naturally so appal the popular imagination as to approximate more closely the prophecy and its accomplishment. At all events it betrayed the deep and general feeling of the cruel wrong inflicted on the order; while the unlamented death of the pope, the disastrous close of Philip’s reign, and the crimes of his family seemed as declarations of heaven as to the innocence of their noble victims.

The health of Clement V had been failing for some time. From his court, which he held at Carpentras, he set out in hopes to gain strength from his native air at Bordeaux. He had hardly crossed the Rhone when he was seized with mortal sickness at Roquemaure. The papal treasure was seized by his followers, especially his nephew; his remains were treated with such utter neglect that the torches set fire to the catafalque under which he lay, not in state. His body, covered only with a single sheet, all that his rapacious retinue had left to shroud their forgotten master, was half burned (not, like those of the Templars, on his living body) before alarm was raised. His ashes were borne back to Carpentras and solemnly interred.

Clement left behind him evil fame. He died shamefully rich. To his nephew (nepotism had begun to prevail in its baleful influence) he bequeathed not less than 300,000 golden florins, under the pretext of succour to the Holy Land. He had died still more wealthy but that his wealth was drained by more disgraceful prodigality. It was generally believed that the beautiful Brunisand de Foix, countess of Talleyrand Périgord, was the pope’s mistress; to her he was boundlessly lavish, and her influence was irresistible even in ecclesiastical matters. Rumour ran that her petitions to the lustful pontiff were placed upon her otherwise unveiled bosom. Italian hatred of a transalpine pope, Guelfic hatred of a Ghibelline pope, may have lent a too greedy ear to these disreputable reports; but the large mass of authorities is against the pope; in his favour, hardly more than suspicious silence.b

JOHN XXII TO URBAN V

On the death of Clement, 1314, there were violent contests among the cardinals respecting the election of a successor, the French demanding a French pontiff and the Italians an Italian. After two years the French gained[627] the victory; and in 1316, Jacques d’Euse of Cahors, cardinal of Porto, was made head of the church, and assumed the pontifical name of John XXII. He was not destitute of learning, but was crafty, insolent, weak, imprudent, and avaricious, as even those who honour his memory do not positively deny. He rendered himself notorious by many imprudent and unsuccessful enterprises, but especially by his unfortunate contest with the emperor, Ludwig of Bavaria. There was a contest for the empire of Germany between Ludwig of Bavaria and Frederick of Austria, each being chosen emperor by a part of the electors in the year 1314. John declared that the decision of this controversy belonged to him. But Ludwig, having conquered his rival in battle and taken him prisoner, in the year 1322, assumed the government of the empire, without consulting the pontiff, and refused to submit a cause which had been decided by the sword to another trial before the pontiff.

John was greatly offended at this, and in the year 1324 divested the emperor of all title to the imperial crown. Ludwig, in return, accused the pontiff of corrupting the faith, or of heresy; and appealed to the decision of a council. Exasperated by this and other things, the pontiff, in the year 1327, again divested the emperor of all his authority and power, and laid him under excommunication. In revenge for this injury the emperor, in the year 1328, at Rome, publicly declared John unworthy of the pontificate; and substituted in his place Pietro di Corvara, a Franciscan monk, and one of those who disagreed with the pontiff; and he, assuming the name of Nicholas V, crowned Ludwig emperor. But in the year 1330, this imperial pontiff voluntarily abdicated his office, and surrendered himself into the hands of John, who kept him a prisoner at Avignon till his death. Thus John continued to reign in spite of the emperor, as did the emperor in spite of the pontiff.

On the side of Ludwig stood the whole mass of the Fratricelli, the Beghards (or Beguins) of every description, and the Spirituals, or more rigid among the Franciscans; and these, being scattered over a large part of Europe, and supported by the protection of Ludwig, everywhere assailed John with reproaches and criminations, both orally and in books, and charged him with religious apostasy. The pontiff, however, was not greatly injured by these private attacks; but towards the close of his life he fell under the disapprobation and censure of nearly the whole church. For in the years 1331 and 1332, he taught in some public discourses that departed souls would indeed behold Christ, but would not see the face of God or the divine nature until their reunion with the body at the last day. With this doctrine, Philip VI, the king of France, was highly displeased; the theologians of Paris condemned it in 1333; and both the friends and the foes of the[628] pontiff were opposed to it. For it appeared to them that the pontiff detracted much from the blessedness of departed spirits. To so great opposition John, though naturally pertinacious, had to give way. He therefore first apologised for the doctrine; and afterwards, when near the point of death, 1334, he did not indeed abandon it, but he qualified it by saying that he believed souls in the intermediate state saw the divine essence, as far as the state and condition of the disembodied spirit would permit. But this declaration did not satisfy his adversaries. Hence, after various disputes, his successor Benedict XII terminated the controversy, according to the decision of the Parisian doctors, by declaring the true faith to be that the souls of the blessed, when separate from the body, fully and perfectly behold the divine nature, or God himself. Benedict could do this without impeaching his predecessor; for John, when dying, submitted his opinion to the judgment of the church, lest, perhaps, he should after death be classed among heretics.

On the death of John, 1334, new contests between the French and the Italians, respecting the choice of a pontiff, divided the college of cardinals. But near the close of the year, Jacques de Nouveau called Fournier, a Frenchman, cardinal of St. Prisca, was chosen, and assumed the name of Benedict XII. Historians allow him the praise of being an upright and honest man, no less free from avarice than from the lust of rule. During his reign the controversy with the emperor Ludwig was at rest. For although he did not restore him to church communion, being prevented, as is reported by the king of France, yet he did not attempt anything against him. He saw the existing evils in the church, and some of them, as far as he could, he removed; in particular he laboured to reform by decrees and ordinances the orders of the monks, both mendicant and opulent. But death removed him, when he was contemplating more and greater changes, in 1342. Overlook superstition, which was the common fault of his age, and we shall find nothing to prevent us from declaring this pontiff to have been a right-spirited man.

Of a different spirit was his successor, Clement VI, who was likewise a Frenchman, named Pierre Roger, and cardinal of St. Nereus and St. Achilles. To say nothing of his other deeds, that are little to be commended, he trod in the steps of John XXII by his provisions and reservations of churches, which was evidence of a shameful avarice; further, he conferred the most important spiritual offices on foreigners and Italians, which produced controversies between him and the kings of France and England; and, lastly, he demonstrated the arrogance and pride of his heart, among other things, by renewing the war with Ludwig the Bavarian. For, in the year 1343, he hurled new thunders at the emperor; and finding these to be contemned by Ludwig, in the year 1346, he devoted him again to execration; and persuaded the princes of Germany to elect Charles IV, grandson of Henry VII, for their emperor. A civil war would now have broken out in Germany, had not the death of Ludwig, in 1347, prevented it. Clement followed him to the grave, in 1352, famous for nothing but his zeal for exalting the majesty of the pontiffs, and for adding Avignon, which he bought of Joanna queen of Naples, to St. Peter’s patrimony.

There was more moderation and probity in Innocent VI, or Etienne d’Albert, a Frenchman, previously bishop of Ostia, who governed the church ten years, and died in 1362. He favoured his own relatives too much; but in other respects encouraged the pious and the well-informed, held the monks to their duty, abstained from reserving churches, and did many things worthy of commendation. His successor, Guillaume de Grimoard, abbot of St. Victor,[629] at Marseilles, who assumed the name of Urban V, was also free from great faults, if we except those which are almost inseparable from the office of a pope. Overcome by the entreaties of the Romans, he removed to Rome in the year 1367, but returned again to Avignon in 1370, in order to make peace between the king of England and the king of France, and died there the same year.

He was succeeded by Pierre Roger, a Frenchman of noble birth, under the pontifical name of Gregory XI. He was inferior to his predecessors in virtue, but exceeded them in energy and audacity. Under him great and dangerous commotions disturbed Italy and the city of Rome. The Florentines, especially, waged fierce war with the Romish church, and were successful in it. To restore the tranquillity of Italy, and recover the territories and cities taken from the patrimony of St. Peter, Gregory, in the year 1376, transferred his residence from Avignon to Rome. One Catherine, a virgin of Siena, whom that credulous age took to be a prophetess divinely inspired, came to Avignon, and by her exhortations greatly contributed to this measure. But Gregory soon after repented of his removal; for by their long absence from Italy the authority of the pontiffs was so fallen there that the Romans and the Florentines had no scruple to insult and abuse him in various ways. He therefore purposed to return to Avignon, but was prevented by death, which removed him from among living men in the year 1378.

After the death of Gregory XI, the cardinals being assembled to provide a successor, the Roman people, fearing lest a Frenchman should be elected who would remove to Avignon, demanded, with furious clamours and threats, that an Italian should be placed at the head of the church without delay. The terrified cardinals proclaimed Bartolommeo Prignani, who was a Neapolitan by birth, and archbishop of Bari, to be elected pontiff; and he assumed the name of Urban VI. This new pontiff, by his coarse manners, his injudicious severity, and his intolerable haughtiness, alienated the minds of all from him, but especially the cardinals. These, therefore, withdrew to Fondi, a city in the kingdom of Naples, and there created another pontiff, Robert count of Geneva, who took the name of Clement VII, alleging that Urban was elected only in pretence, in order to quiet the rage of the people of Rome. Which of these was the legitimate and true pontiff still remains uncertain, nor can it be fully ascertained from the records and documents which have been published in great abundance by both parties. Urban continued at Rome; Clement removed to Avignon in France.

Thus the unity of the Latin church, as existing under one head, came to an end at the death of Gregory XI; and that most unhappy disunion ensued, which is usually denominated “the great schism of the West.” For during fifty years the church had two or three heads; and the contemporary pontiffs assailed each other with excommunications, maledictions, and insidious measures. The calamities and distress of those times are indescribable. For besides the perpetual contentions and wars between the pontifical factions, which were ruinous to great numbers, involving them in loss of life or of property, nearly all sense of religion was in many places extinguished, and wickedness daily acquired greater impunity and boldness. The clergy, previously corrupt, now laid aside even the appearance of piety and godliness, while those who called themselves Christ’s vicegerents were at open war with each other; and the conscientious people, who believed that no one could be saved without living in subjection to Christ’s vicegerents, were thrown into the greatest perplexity and anxiety of mind. Yet both the church and the state received very considerable advantages from these great calamities. For[630] the very sinews of pontifical power were cut by these dissensions, and no art could heal them any more; kings, too, and princes, who had before been in a sense the servants of the pontiffs, now became their judges and masters. Moreover, great numbers, possessing some measure of discernment, despising and disregarding pontiffs, fighting for dominion, committed themselves and their salvation to God alone, in full assurance that the church and religion might be safe and continue so, although without any visible head.c

THE GREAT SCHISM OF THE WEST (1378-1417 A.D.)

Clement was immediately recognised as pope in Scotland, Savoy, and Lorraine, afterwards in Castile (1381), Aragon (1387), and Navarre (1390). On the other hand Germany, England, Denmark, Sweden, Poland, and Prussia remained on Urban’s side.

The war between the two popes was not only waged with sentences of excommunication, but in Italy with secular weapons also. Urban declared that Queen Joanna, by her secession from his side, had forfeited the kingdom of Naples, and granted it in fee to Charles, duke of Durazzo. On the other hand Joanna, under Clement’s influence, took Louis, duke of Anjou, at that time regent of France, for her adopted son and successor (1380). Charles meanwhile in a short time made himself master of the whole kingdom, took Joanna prisoner in 1381, and had her put to death, when Louis appeared in Italy at the head of an army (1382). Charles continued to maintain his ascendency, and Louis’ death (1384) would have been decisive as regards Naples in favour of Urban and Charles forever, had not differences forthwith arisen between the two latter, which increased to such a degree, when the headstrong pope went in person to Naples, that Urban pronounced sentence of dethronement and excommunication against Charles, and was consequently besieged by him in the castle of Lucera at Salerno (1385). He escaped to Genoa (September, 1385) without becoming wiser. By the cruel execution of five cardinals he made himself still more hateful. After Charles’ death (1386) by his impolitic refusal to invest his son Ladislaus (or Lancelot) with Naples, he exposed this kingdom afresh to the danger of falling under the dominion of France. The capital city was already conquered for the young Louis of Anjou (1387), and the whole kingdom would have fallen to him and the French pope, had not Urban’s successor, Boniface IX, at the right moment, invested Ladislaus (1390) and rendered him his powerful support. With a view to secure the states of the church against Louis, Boniface granted many towns and castles in fee to powerful nobles, and thus roused afresh in Rome a struggle for independence, which kept him long in banishment from the city. True, Louis was forced to quit Italy altogether (1400), and Ladislaus remained king of Naples. But this restless agitation in Rome increased, and was even supported by Ladislaus, who wished to make himself master of the city.

As the schism lessened the revenues of the popes and increased their expenses, so it caused a fresh aggravation of those church oppressions which were already intolerable. The French pontiff, Clement VII, was obliged indeed to exercise the right of presentation to ecclesiastical offices, to which now also were added the gratiæ exspectativæ, according to the nod of the French court, upon which he was quite dependent; but in return for this the church of France, so long as her grievances were not too loudly expressed, was delivered over as a prey to his extortions. Tithes vacantiæ and annates[631] were now the standing income of the papal cabinet. In addition to these Clement laid claim to the spoils of deceased prelates. His successor, Benedict XIII, wherever it was possible, surpassed him in these systems of impoverishment.

So long as Urban VI lived, the Roman curia was advantageously distinguished in this respect from that of Avignon. His successor, Boniface IX, on the contrary, imitated all the extortions of his rivals in France, but he far surpassed them in the simony which was practised quite publicly by himself and the members of his curia, and was even defended without any sense of shame. Thus at the end of this period both obediences were groaning under the weight of persecution. England alone repeatedly threw off every papal oppression, and in 1404 Hungary also followed her example.

In consequence of these church oppressions, which were the result of the schism, the religious scruples which were entertained with regard to it were strengthened, and earlier steps demanded for its settlement. The university of Paris in particular laboured with unshaken perseverance to bring the schism to a close. After she had long waited in vain for a sound agreement of the two popes betwixt themselves, she at last obtained permission from the court of France to interpose her opinion upon these events (1394). Benedict XIII, notwithstanding his promise made before his election, showed even less inclination than his predecessor to take serious steps to close the schism. To the urgent proposals of a French national synod in 1395 he returned only an evasive answer. The university nevertheless persevered in her endeavour, and at length contrived that Charles VI, king of France, should join with the emperor Wenceslaus in forcing both the popes to resign (1398).

The latter was in very truth too weak to keep his word; moreover he was himself deposed by the secret machinations of his pope Boniface IX (1400). On the other hand, by the decree of a new national synod France withdrew from the obedience of Benedict; Castile followed her example (1398), and this pope was kept a prisoner at Avignon. It was not till after the lapse of many years, and the breach of express engagements, that Benedict succeeded in regaining the church of France to his obedience (1403) by the help of the duke of Orleans, who at that time had won the ascendency at court. It was quickly manifest how little he meant to keep these promises; but as the Italian cardinals imposed similar engagements upon their new pope Innocent VII, on his election in 1404, even only with a view to save appearances, it was necessary to open negotiations. The fruitlessness of this proceeding increased the general discontent; France threatened her pope with a fresh withdrawal of allegiance (national council of January, 1407), when at length both the popes agreed upon a personal interview at Savona in September, 1407. Benedict appeared there in person; however, Gregory XII went only as far as Lucca, and opened fresh negotiations for another place of congress. This public breach of promise roused the Roman cardinals; they forsook their pope Gregory, and renounced their allegiance to him, at the same time that France withdrew from the obedience of Benedict. Benedict indeed escaped the imprisonment with which he was threatened, by flight to Perpignan; but the cardinals of both obediences united at Livorno (Leghorn) and summoned a general council at Pisa in March, 1409, with a view to the termination of the schism.

The schism with its church oppression furnished the impulse, the weakness of the papal see gave the long desired opportunity for an unbiased trial of the existing state of the church; it led men to opinions which had[632] hitherto only been mooted in violent struggles with the popes, and so not without an appearance of passion and party spirit; but now they struck root so deeply, even among the most faithful adherents of the church, that they could never again be entirely suppressed. Many an anxious gaze was turned backwards to the earlier and better ages of the church, in order to discover in its constitution the remedy for the scandals of the present. This was a problem of learning. Its representatives, the universities, particularly that of Paris, were listened to with eager attention, and attained an influence which was formidable even to the popes. This comparison of the present with the earlier ages of the church could not but lead to many convictions unfavourable to the papal see.

True there were but isolated individuals who advanced so far upon this line of thought as to wish the papacy quite removed from the church as the source of all her evils. But even its truest adherents now acknowledged the immoderate extension of papal power, and the monstrous exaggeration of the papal dignity. They discovered in the bent of the papacy to secular power the prime cause of all mischief, and even to the schism, and they wished the times back again when the emperors could convoke synods by their own authority to strangle a schism at its birth. No less general was the discontent expressed against the papal church oppressions, and the wish to remove them by limitations of the papal power. Hitherto only adversaries of the popes, at open war with them, had appealed to a general council as a higher authority, but during the schism circumstances led to a general acknowledgment that such a council must rank above the pope. After the Council of Pisa was summoned to terminate the contest between the two popes, and set a limit to the abuses of papal power, the canonists vied with each other in demonstrating this new opinion so injurious to the papacy, of the superiority of general councils to the pope, and thus the papal system of the last century seemed to be threatened with total overthrow.

RELATION OF THE NATIONAL CHURCHES TO THE STATE

The jealousies betwixt the ecclesiastical and secular tribunals arising from the immoderate extension of ecclesiastical jurisdiction still continued, but they began more and more to result in favour of the latter. In Germany the fundamental principle that secular causes belonged only to secular[633] tribunals had been recognised long before, even by the prelates, who were themselves temporal lords of the land; it was, as a general rule, always maintained, though in individual cases the ecclesiastical tribunals continually overstepped their limits. But during the schism, the emperor Wenceslaus could only execute his decisions in things temporal, against the higher orders of the clergy, by deeds of violence. The cities continued to tax the excessive revenues of the ecclesiastical sovereignty. They either forbade altogether the increase of church property, or decreed that all fresh acquisitions should be alienated again in a year and a day, or required from the new revenues the customary taxes. Now that the parish priests, by their management of people’s wills, provided too well for themselves and for the church, it was determined that wills should only be made before the secular authorities. Paderborn even prohibited the multiplication of masses for souls. Still the popes wished to maintain a good understanding with the cities, and bind them to themselves by means of privileges.

During the schism many concessions were made to the nobles also; thus Boniface IX, in 1399 allowed Albert IV, duke of Austria, the jus primarum precum. The free Swiss by the priests’ law (Pfaffenbrief) in 1370 put an end to the encroachments of the ecclesiastical tribunals. In Italy the operation of the ecclesiastical tribunals, like the condition of the whole country, was very fluctuating. Under Ghibelline lords they were often quite suppressed. In France ecclesiastical jurisdiction had reached its greatest extension; the kings connived at it, because they wished to keep their bishops well inclined to themselves, and knew how to tax any irregularities of the ecclesiastical tribunals. On the other hand the barons were continually at issue with the prelates on this point, and from both sides there were unceasing complaints of usurpation. The remarkable negotiations which were instituted by command of King Philip of Valois with the prelates summoned before parliament (1329), owing to the king’s political aims, failed of their intended result. Immediately afterwards the clergy sought to establish their jurisdiction still firmer by decrees of councils. On the other hand a powerful resistance to these proceedings was being developed in parliament, which was now transforming itself into a standing corporation; this was especially manifest from the time of Charles V. Henceforth ecclesiastical jurisdiction was not only confined to its proper limits, but parliament claimed a certain degree of superintendence over it, and drew to itself the right of decision upon many points, which were at that time universally held to be ecclesiastical.

The earlier encroachments of the popes upon episcopal rights were still further increased by the fact that they now took to themselves entirely the appointment to ecclesiastical offices, and exercised the right of exemption in the highest degree, particularly during the schism. Thus the importance of the bishops in the church was small; they compensated themselves for this by secular honours and worldly enjoyment. The oppression which fell upon them from above they knew how to discharge upon those below, and so the lower orders of the clergy groaned beneath intolerable burdens.

MORAL CONDITION OF THE CLERGY

The moral condition of the clergy could not fail to degenerate still more in this period, in consequence of the manner in which ecclesiastical offices were generally bestowed, the example which the papal court gave, and the[634] method in which the ecclesiastical jurisdiction was administered. In the chapters, where the stalls were for the most part benefices reserved for the nobles, as well as among the parochial clergy, there prevailed a depth of ignorance and an immorality which awakened indignation. The continued struggle of the synods against the dissoluteness of priests remained quite fruitless. The laity were only too glad to secure their wives and daughters from the sacerdotal ravishers, and accordingly favoured, at times even demanded, fixed alliances of their priests with concubines. Thus in many countries concubinage was publicly allowed among the priests, who were supposed to be too sacred for a matrimonial connection. The fines with which these excesses were visited by many synods were quickly changed into a welcome gratuity to the avarice of the bishops. Nevertheless, every attempt of the secular power to check these scandals was resisted by the church as an invasion of her rights.d

THE GREAT COUNCILS OF PISA AND CONSTANCE; JOHN HUSS

The Council of Pisa, which was designed to heal the wounds of the divided church, unexpectedly inflicted upon her a new wound. On the 5th of June it passed a heavy sentence on each of the pontiffs; for it declared them both to be heretical, perjured, contumacious, unworthy of any honour, and no longer members of the church. As the next step, the council created Pietro Philarghi of Candia sovereign pontiff in their place, on the 26th of June; and he assumed the name of Alexander V. But the two pontiffs spurned the decrees of this council, and continued still to perform their functions. Benedict held a council at Perpignan, and Gregory assembled another at Austria, near Aquileia; but fearing the resentments of the Venetians, he went first to Gaeta, where he threw himself upon the protection of Ladislaus, king of Naples, and then fled, in 1412, to Rimini.

The church was thus divided among three pontiffs, who fiercely assailed each other with reciprocal excommunications, reproaches, and maledictions. Alexander V, who was elected in the Council of Pisa, died at Bologna in 1410. The sixteen cardinals, who were present in the city, immediately filled his place with Baltasare Cossa, a Neapolitan, who took the name of John XXIII, a man destitute of principle and of piety. From this war of the pontiffs vast evils arose which afflicted both the church and the state. Hence the emperor Sigismund, the king of France, and other kings and princes of Europe, spared no pains nor expense to restore harmony and bring the church again under one head. From the pontiffs it was found quite impossible to obtain any personal sacrifice for the peace of the church; so that no course remained but to assemble a general council of the whole church, to take cognisance of this great controversy. Such an assembly John XXIII, being prevailed on by the entreaties of Sigismund and hoping that it would favour his cause, appointed to be held at Constance in 1414. In this council were present the pontiff John, the emperor Sigismund, many princes of Germany, and ambassadors from the absent kings and princes of Europe, and from the republics.

The principal object of this great council was to extinguish the discord between the pontiffs; and this business was accomplished successfully. For having established by two solemn decrees, in the fourth and fifth sessions, that a pontiff is subject to a council of the whole church, and having most carefully substantiated the authority of councils, the fathers, on the 29th of[635] May, 1415, removed John XXIII from the pontificate on account of various offences and crimes; for he had pledged himself to the council to resign the pontificate, and yet withdrew himself by flight. Gregory XII voluntarily resigned his pontificate on the 4th of July in the same year, through Carlo Malatesta. And Benedict XIII, on the 26th of July, 1417, was deprived of his rank as a pontiff by a solemn decree of the council. After these transactions, on the 11th of November, 1417, Otto Colonna was elected pontiff by the unanimous suffrages of the cardinals, and assumed the name of Martin V. Benedict XIII, who resided at Perpignan, resisted indeed, and claimed the rights and the dignity of a pontiff till his death, 1423; and after the death of this obstinate man, under the auspices of Alfonso, king of Sicily, Ægidius (Giles) Nuños, a Spaniard, was appointed to succeed him, by only two cardinals. He assumed the name of Clement VIII, and wished to be regarded as the legitimate pontiff; but in the year 1429 he was persuaded to resign the government of the church entirely to Martin V.

The things done in this council for the repression and extirpation of heretics are not equally commendable; some of them, indeed, are quite inexcusable. Before the council sat, great religious commotions had arisen in several countries, but especially in Bohemia. There lived and taught at Prague, with much applause, an eloquent and learned man, by name John Huss, who acted as a professor of theology in the university and as a minister of holy things in the church. Vehemently did he declaim against priestly vices of every kind; which was generally done in that age, and no good man disapproved it. He likewise endeavoured, after the year 1408, to detach the university from acknowledging as pontiff Gregory XII, whom Bohemia had hitherto obeyed. This gave great offence to the archbishop of Prague and to the rest of the clergy, who were devoted partisans of Gregory. Hence arose great hostility between Huss and the archbishop, which the former kept up and increased by his discourses against the Romish court and the vices of the clergy.

To these first causes of hatred against Huss, which might easily have been surmounted, others were added of greater magnitude. First, he took the side of the Realists in philosophy, and, therefore, according to the usage of the age, goaded and pressed the Nominalists to the utmost of his power; yet their number was very considerable in the university of Prague, and their influence was not small. Afterwards, in the year 1408, he brought it about that, in the controversy between the Germans and the Bohemians respecting the number of votes, the decision was in favour of the Bohemians. By the laws of the university it was ordained that in academic discussions the Bohemians should have three votes, and the other three nations but one. The university was then divided into four nations, but the Bavarian, Polish, and Saxon were comprehended under the general name of the German nation. The usage had been that the Germans, who far exceeded the Bohemians in numbers, gave three votes and the Bohemians but one. Huss, therefore, either from partiality to his country or from hatred of the Nominalists, whom the greatest part of the Germans preferred to the Realists, obtained, by means of the vast influence at court which his eloquence gave him, a decree that the Germans should be deprived of the three votes and should be bidden to content themselves with one. This result of a long contest so offended the Germans that a great multitude of them, with the rector of the university, Johann Hofmann, at their head, left the university of Prague and retired to Leipzig, where Frederick the Wise, elector of Saxony, founded a university on their account in the year 1409. This event[636] contributed much to increase the odium against Huss and to work his ruin. The Germans being ejected from Prague, Huss inveighed more freely than before against the vices of the clergy, and also publicly preached and recommended the opinions and the books of John Wycliffe, the Englishman. [See the history of England.] Being accused before John XXIII, in the year 1410, he was excommunicated by that pontiff. Spurning this thunderbolt, he continued, with general applause, first by word of mouth, afterwards in various writings, to lash the sores of the Roman church and of the priest of every degree.

This good man, who was in love with real piety, but perhaps had sometimes too much warmth and not sufficient prudence, being summoned to the Council of Constance, went thither on the faith of a safe-conduct given by the emperor Sigismund, with a view to demonstrate his innocence and prove them liars who talked of him as an apostate from the Roman church. And certainly he had not departed in things of any moment from the religion of his times; but had only inveighed severely against the pontiffs, the court of Rome, the more considerable clergy, and the monks; which in fact had the sanction of his times, and was daily done in the Council of Constance itself. Yet his enemies, who were numerous both in Bohemia and in the council, managed the procedure against him so artfully and successfully that, in violation of the public faith, he was cast into prison; and when he would not, according to the council’s order, confess himself guilty, he was adjudged a heretic, and burned alive, on the 6th day of July, 1415. Full of faith and the love of God, he sustained this punishment with admirable constancy. The same unhappy fate was borne with the same pious fortitude and constancy by Jerome of Prague, the companion of John Huss, who had come to Constance to support and aid his friend. He yielded at first through fear of death to the mandates of the council, and renounced those opinions which the council had condemned in him; but being retained still in prison, he resumed courage, again avowed those opinions, and was, therefore, committed to the flames on the 30th of May, 1416.

Before Huss and Jerome were condemned by the council, John Wycliffe, who was considered, and not altogether without reason, as their teacher, had been pronounced infamous, and condemned by a decree of the fathers. For on the fourth day of May, 1415, the council declared a number of opinions extracted from his writings to be abominable; and ordered all his books to be destroyed, and his bones to be burned. Not long after, on the 14th of June, they passed the famous decree that the sacred supper should be administered to the laity under one kind of bread only, forbidding communion under both kinds. For in the preceding year, 1414, Jacobellus (James) of Mies, incumbent of St. Michael’s church at Prague, by the instigation of a Parisian doctor, Peter of Dresden, had begun to celebrate the communion under both kinds, at Prague; which example many other churches followed. The subject being brought before the council by one of the Bohemian bishops, it considered a remedy to be required even for this heresy. By this decree at Constance, the communion of the laity under one kind obtained the force and authority of law in the Roman church.

In the same year, the council placed among execrable errors, or heresies, an opinion of Jean Petit, a Parisian theologian, that tyrants might be lawfully slain by any private person. The party however, from whom this opinion came was not named, because he was supported by very powerful patrons. John duke of Burgundy employed assassins, in the year 1407, to murder Louis duke of Orleans. A great contest now arose, and Petit, an eloquent[637] and ingenious man, pleaded the cause of John of Burgundy at Paris; and in order to justify his conduct he maintained that it is no sin to destroy a tyrant, without a trial of his cause, by force or fraud, or in any other manner, and even if the persons doing it are bound to him by an oath or covenant. By a tyrant, however, Petit did not understand the sovereign of a nation, but a powerful citizen, who abused his resources to the ruin of his king and country. The university of Paris passed a stern and severe sentence upon the author of so dangerous an opinion. The council, after several consultations, struck at the opinion, without naming its author. The new pontiff, however, Martin V, from fear of the Burgundian power, would not ratify even this mild sentence.

After these and some other transactions the council proceeded avowedly to the subject of a reformation of the church, in its “head and members,” as the language of that age was. For all Europe saw the need of such a reformation, and most ardently wished for it. Nor did the council deny that chiefly for this important object it had been called together. But the cardinals and principal men of the Romish court, for whose interest it was, especially, that the disorders of the church should remain untouched, craftily urged and brought the majority to believe that a business of such magnitude could not be managed advantageously, until after the election of a new pontiff. The new head of the church, however, Martin V, abused his power to elude the design of reformation; and manifested by his commands and edicts that he did not wish the church to be purged and restored to a sound state. The council, accordingly, after deliberating three years and six months, broke up on the 22nd of April, 1418, leaving the matter unaccomplished, and putting off that reformation, which all good men devoutly wished, to a council which should be called five years afterwards.

Martin V, being admonished on the subject, after a long delay appointed this other council to be held at Pavia; and afterwards removed it to Siena, and lastly to Bâle. But at its very commencement, on the 21st February, 1431, he died; and was succeeded, in the month of March, by Gabriel Condolmieri, a Venetian, and bishop of Siena, who took the name of Eugenius IV. He sanctioned all that Martin had decreed about holding the council at Bâle; and accordingly it commenced on the 23rd of July, 1431, under the presidency of Cardinal Julian, as representative of the pontiff. Two objects especially were assigned to this celebrated council: first, a union between the Greeks and the Latins; and secondly, the reformation of the church, both in its “head and its members,” according to the resolution adopted in the Council of Constance. Now that the head, namely the sovereign pontiff, and all[638] the members of the church, that is the bishops, priests, and monks, were in a very unsound state no one doubted. But when the fathers, by the very form of the council, by its mode and order of proceeding, and by its first decrees, showed an intention of performing in earnest what was expected of them, Eugenius IV became uneasy for a corrupt church under such physicians, and twice attempted to dissolve the council. This the fathers most firmly resisted; and they showed by the decrees of the Council of Constance, and by other arguments, that the council was superior in authority to a pontiff. This first contest between the pontiff and the council was brought to a close in the month of November, 1433; for the pontiff silently gave up the point, and in the month of December, by letters sent from Rome, gave the council his approbation.

After this the council prosecuted with energy the business upon which it had entered. The legates of the Roman pontiff were now admitted; but not until they had promised under oath to obey the decrees of the council, and particularly the decrees of the Council of Constance, asserting the dominion and jurisdiction of councils over the pontiffs. These very decrees of Constance, so odious to the pontiffs, were renewed in a public meeting of the fathers on the 26th of June, 1434. And on the 9th of June, 1435, annates, as they were called, were abolished, the pontifical legates in vain opposing it. On the 25th of March, 1436, a profession of faith was read, intended for the pope himself on the day of his election. The number of cardinals was reduced to twenty-four; and expectatives, reservations, and provisions were abolished.

Other things coming on little agreeable to the pontiff, Eugenius concluded that this very audacious and troublesome council must either be removed into Italy or be curbed by another council in opposition to it. Therefore, when these fathers decreed, on May 7th, 1437, that on account of the Greeks the council should be held either at Bâle, or Avignon, or in some city of Savoy, the pontiff, on the contrary, by his legates, decided that the council should be held in Italy. Neither party would revoke its decision. Hence a violent conflict, from this time onward, existed between the pontiff and the council. On the 26th of July, 1437, the council ordered the pontiff to appear before them at Bâle, and give account of his conduct. The pontiff, on the other hand, dissolved the council, and appointed another at Ferrara. But the fathers, with the approbation of the emperor, the king of France, and other princes, continued their deliberations at Bâle; and on the 28th of September of the same year pronounced the pontiff contumacious for not obeying the decree of a council.

On the 10th of January of the next year, 1438, Eugenius IV, in person, opened the council which he had summoned to meet at Ferrara; and in the second session of it excommunicated the fathers assembled at Bâle. The chief business of this council was to negotiate a union between the Greeks and Latins. The Greek emperor himself, Joannes Palæologus, the patriarch of Constantinople, Joseph, and the principal theologians and bishops of the nation had come personally to Italy, in order to facilitate the success of this important negotiation. For the Greeks, now reduced to extremities by the Turks, indulged the hope that if their disagreements with the Roman pontiff were removed the Latins would afford them succour. The business proceeded tardily, and with little success at Ferrara; but afterwards rather better at Florence. For Eugenius in the beginning of the year 1439, on account of the pestilence at Ferrara, had ordered the council to remove to Florence. The fathers at Bâle, provoked by these and other acts of Eugenius, proceeded on the 25th of June, 1439, to deprive him of the pontificate; but[639] this bold procedure of theirs was not approved by the kings and princes of Europe. Eugenius, on the 4th of September, by a very severe bull anathematised the Basilian fathers and rescinded all their acts. Despising these thunders, on the 17th of September, 1439, they elected a new pontiff, Amadeus, duke of Savoy, who then led a retired life at Ripaille on the Leman Lake (Lake of Geneva). He assumed the name of Felix V.

Thus the lamentable schism, which had been extinguished after so much labour and toil at Constance, returned with new and greater misfortunes. For there were not only two pontiffs mutually condemning each other, but likewise, what was worse, two opposing councils, that of Bâle and that of Florence. The greater part of the church, indeed, adhered to Eugenius; but most of the universities, and particularly the first among them, that of Paris, as well as some kingdoms and provinces, chose to follow Felix V. The Council of Bâle continued to deliberate and to pass laws and decrees till the year 1443, notwithstanding all the opposition of Eugenius and his adherents. And although the fathers separated in that year, they nevertheless publicly declared that the council was not at an end, but would assemble again at a proper time, either at Bâle, or Lyons, or Lausanne. The Council of Florence was chiefly occupied in settling the disputes between the Latins and the Greeks. This great business was committed to selected individuals of both parties. The principal one on the part of the Greeks was Bessarion, a very learned man, who was afterwards admitted into the order of cardinals in the Roman church. This man, being gained by the favours bestowed on him by the pontiff, exerted his influence, and the pontiff employed rewards, threats, and promises to induce the other Greeks to accede to the proposed terms of accommodation, and to acknowledge that the Holy Spirit proceeded also from the Son, that departed souls undergo a purgation by fire before they are admitted to the vision of God, that bread which is without leaven may be used in the sacred supper, and lastly, what was most important of all, that the Roman pontiff is the head and the judge of the church universal. One of the Greeks, Mark of Ephesus, could not be persuaded, by entreaties or by bribes, to give his assent. After all, this peace, which was extorted by various artifices, was not stable. For the Greeks, on returning to Constantinople, stated to their fellow-citizens that everything had been carried at Florence by fraud, and they resumed their hostility. The Council of Florence itself put an end to its deliberations on the 26th of April, 1442. There were also negotiations in this council for bringing the Armenians, and the Jacobites, but especially the Abyssinians, into union with the Romish church; which were attended with the same result as those respecting the Greeks.

The author of this new pontifical schism, Eugenius IV, died in the month of February, 1447, and was succeeded in the month of March by Nicholas V, who was previously Tommaso Parentucelli of Sarzana, bishop of Bologna, a man of learning himself and a great patron of learning, and likewise moderate in temper and disposed for peace. Under him, by means of the persevering labours and efforts of the kings and princes of Europe, especially of the king of France, tranquillity was restored to the Latin church. For Felix V, on the 9th of April, 1449, himself resigned the supremacy of the church, and retired to his former quiet at Ripaille; and the Basilian fathers, being assembled on the 16th of April at Lausanne, ratified his voluntary abdication, and by a solemn decree directed the whole church to obey Nicholas only. On the 18th of June Nicholas promulgated this pacification; and, at the same time, confirmed by his sanction the acts and[640] decrees of the Council of Bâle. This Nicholas was particularly distinguished for his love of literature and the arts, which he laudably exerted himself to advance and encourage in Italy, especially by means of the Greeks that came from Constantinople. He died on the 24th of March, 1455, principally from grief, occasioned by the capture of Constantinople by the Turks.c

At this date Milman closes his splendid work on The History of Latin Christianity. It will be profitable to quote his summing up of the point reached by Nicholas V, eight and a half centuries after Gregory the Great.a

MILMAN ON NICHOLAS V AND THE FALL OF CONSTANTINOPLE

The pontificate of Nicholas V is the culminating point of Latin Christianity. The papal power indeed had long reached its zenith. From Innocent III to Boniface VIII it had begun its decline. But Latin Christianity was alike the religion of the popes and of the councils which contested their supremacy. It was as yet no more than a sacerdotal strife whether the pope should maintain an irresponsible autocracy, or be limited and controlled by an ubiquitous, aristocratic senate. The most ardent reformers looked no further than to strengthen the hierarchy. The prelates were determined to emancipate themselves from the usurpations of the pope, as to their elections, their arbitrary taxation by Rome, the undermining of their authority by perpetual appeals; but they had no notion of relaxing in the least the ecclesiastical domination. It was not that Christendom might govern itself, but that themselves might have a more equal share in the government. They were as jealously attached as the pope to the creed of Latin Christianity. The council, not the pope, burned John Huss. Their concessions to the Bohemians were extorted from their fears, not granted by their liberality. The Vulgate was their Bible, the Latin service their exclusive liturgy, the Canon Law their code of jurisprudence.

Latin Christianity had yet to discharge some part of its mission. It had to enlighten the world with letters, to adorn it with arts. It had hospitably to receive (a gift fatal in the end to its own dominion) and to promulgate to mankind the poets, historians, philosophers of Greece. It had to break down its own idols, the schoolmen, and substitute a new idolatry, that of classical literature. It had to perfect Christian art. Already Christian architecture had achieved some of its wonders. The venerable Lateran and St. Paul’s without the Walls, the old St. Peter’s, St. Mark’s at Venice and Pisa, Strasburg and Cologne, Rheims and Bourges, York and Lincoln, stood in their majesty. Christian painting, and even Christian sculpture, were to rise to their untranscended excellence.

The choice of Nicholas V was one of such singular felicity for his time that it cannot be wondered if his admirers looked on it as overruled by the Holy Spirit. “Who would have thought in Florence,” so said Nicholas to his biographer Vespasiano,e “that a priest who rang the bells should become supreme pontiff?” Yet it seems to have been a happy accident. In Nicholas V, in three short years, the pope had become again a great Italian potentate. The pilgrims carried back throughout Europe accounts of the resuscitated majesty of the Roman pontificate, the unsullied personal dignity of the pope, the re-enthronement of religion in the splendid edifices, which were either building or under restoration. Nicholas V was to behold, as it were, the final act of homage to the popedom, from the majesty of the empire. He was to be the last pontiff who was to crown at Rome the successor of[641] Charlemagne; Frederick III the last emperor who was so to receive his crown from the hands of the pope.

Now came that event which, however foreseen by the few wiser prophetic spirits, burst on Europe and on Christendom with the stunning and appalling effect of absolute suddenness—the taking of Constantinople by the Turks. On no two European minds did this disaster work with more profound or more absorbing terror than on Pope Nicholas V and Æneas Sylvius (Enea Silvio Piccolomini); nor could anyone allege more sound reasons for that terror than the pope and the bishop of Siena. Who could estimate better than Æneas, from his intimate knowledge of all the countries of Europe, of Italy, Germany, France, England, the extent of the danger which impended over the Latin world? Never since its earlier outburst might Mohammedanism seem so likely to subjugate if not to swallow up distracted and disunited Christendom, as under the Turks. By sea and land they were equally formidable. If Christendom should resist, on what frontier? All were menaced, all in danger. What city, what kingdom, would arrest the fierce, the perpetual invasion? From this period throughout the affairs of Germany (at Frankfort he preached a crusade) to the end of his legatine power, of his cardinalate, of his papacy, of his life, this was the one absorbing thought, one passion, of Æneas Sylvius. The immediate advance of the victorious Muhammed through Hungary, Dalmatia, to the border, the centre of Italy, was stopped by a single fortress, Belgrade; by a preacher, John Capistrano; by a hero, John Hunyady. But it was not till, above a century later, when Don John of Austria, at Lepanto by sea, and John Sobieski, before Vienna, by land, broke the spell of Mohammedan conquest, that Europe or Christendom might repose in security.

The death of Nicholas V was hastened, it was said, by the taking of Constantinople. Grief, shame, fear, worked on a constitution broken by the gout. But Nicholas V foresaw not that in remote futurity the peaceful, not the warlike, consequences of the fall of Constantinople would be most fatal to the popedom—that what was the glory of Nicholas V would become among the foremost causes of the ruin of mediæval religion; that it would aid in shaking to the base and in severing forever the majestic unity of Latin Christianity.

Nicholas V aspired to make Italy the domicile, Rome the capital, of letters and arts. No sooner was Nicholas pope than he applied himself to the foundation of the Vatican library. Five thousand volumes were speedily collected. The wondering age boasted that no such library had existed since the days of the Ptolemies.

The scholars of Italy flocked to Rome, each to receive his task from the generous pope, who rewarded their labours with ample payment. He seemed determined to enrich the West with all that survived of Grecian literature. The fall of Constantinople, long threatened, had been preceded by the immigration of many learned Greeks. France, Germany, even England, the Byzantine Empire, Greece, had been ransacked by industrious agents for copies of all the Greek authors. No branch of letters was without its interpreters.

To Nicholas V, Italy, or rather Latin Christianity, mainly owes her age of learning, as well as its fatal consequence to Rome and to Latin Christianity, which in his honest ardour he would be the last to foresee. It was the splendid vision of Nicholas V that this revival of letters, which in certain circles became almost a new religion, would not be the bond-slave but the handmaid or willing minister of the old. Latin Christianity was to[642] array itself in all the spoils of the ancient world, and so maintain (there was nothing of policy in his thought) her dominion over the mind of man. But Rome under Nicholas V was not to be the centre of letters alone; she was also to resume her rank as the centre of art, more especially of architectural magnificence. Rome was to be again as of old the lawgiver of civilisation; pilgrims from all parts of the world, from curiosity, for business, or from religion, were to bow down before the confessed supremacy of her splendid works.

The pope was to be a great sovereign prince, but above the sovereign prince he was to be the successor of St. Peter. Rome was to be at once the strong citadel, and the noblest sanctuary in the world, unassailable by her enemies both without and within from her fortifications; commanding the world to awe by the unrivalled majesty of her churches. The Jubilee had poured enormous wealth into the treasury of the pope; his ordinary revenues, both from the papal territory and from Christendom at large, began to flow in with peace and with the revival of his authority. That wealth was all expended with the most liberal magnificence. Already had it dawned upon the mind of Nicholas V that the cathedral of the chief of the apostles ought to rival, or to surpass, all the churches in Christendom in vastness and majesty. It was to be entirely rebuilt from its foundations. Julius II and Leo X did but accomplish the design of Nicholas V.

Thus in Nicholas V closed one great age of the papacy. In Nicholas the sovereign Italian prince and the pontiff met in serene and amicable dignity; he had no temptation to found a princely family. But before long the pontiff was to be lost in the sovereign prince. Nor was it less evident that the exclusive dominion of Latin Christianity was drawing to a close, though nearly a century might elapse before the final secession of Teutonic Christianity, and the great permanent division of Christendom. Each successive pontificate might seem determined to advance, to hasten that still slow but inevitable revolution: the audacious nepotism of Sixtus IV, the wickednesses of Alexander VI, which defy palliation; the wars of Julius II, with the hoary pope at the head of ferocious armies; the political intrigues and disasters of Clement VII.b

POPES TO 1503

Nicholas’ successor, Alfonso Borgia (Borja), a Spaniard, whose pontifical name was Calixtus III, performed nothing great or splendid, if no account be taken of his anxiety to urge Christian princes upon a war against the[643] Turks. He died in the year 1458. Much more celebrated was his successor, Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini, bishop of Siena, who ascended the papal throne in 1458, and took the name of Pius II, a man of superior genius, and renowned both for his achievements and for his various writings and publications.

Yet posterity would have accounted him a much greater man, if he had not been guilty of gross inconsistency. For after strenuously maintaining the rights of councils against the pontiffs, and boldly defending the cause of the Council of Bâle against Eugenius IV, upon being made pontiff, he apostatised from himself; and January 18th, 1460, denied that a council is superior to a pontiff, and severely prohibited appeals to councils; and in the year 1461 obtained from Louis XI, king of France, the abrogation of the pragmatic sanction, which was favourable to councils; and finally, April 26th, 1463, he expressed a public disapproval of all that he had himself written in favour of the Council of Bâle, and decreed that Pius II was to be heard and obeyed, but that Æneas Sylvius was to be condemned. A short time after making this declaration he fell ill and died in the month of July, 1464.

Paul II, previously Pietro Barbo, a Venetian, who was raised to the chair of St. Peter in 1464, and died in 1471, performed some acts not unworthy of commendation, at least according to the views of that age; but he also did many things that are scarcely excusable, if they are so at all, among the least important of which is that he made a jubilee year come once in every twenty-five years, in 1470. Hence his reputation with posterity has remained equivocal.

The subsequent pontiffs, Sixtus IV, previously Francesco Albescola della Rovere, who died in 1484, and Innocent VIII,[108] previously Giovanni Battista Cibo, a Genoese, who died in 1492, were of the middle kind, being distinguished as popes neither for great virtues nor for great faults. Each, fearing for Italy and for all Europe, from the power of the Turks, both prepared himself for a war upon them and very earnestly urged one on the kings of Europe. But each met with such obstacles as disappointed an object so dear to his heart. Nothing else was done by them with much pretension to true greatness.

The pontifical series of this century is closed by Alexander VI, a Spaniard, whose true name was Rodrigo Borgia. He may not improperly be called the Nero of pontiffs. For the villainies, crimes, and enormities recorded of this man are so many and so great as to make it seem clear that he was destitute, we will not say of all religion, but even of decency and shame. Among the things charged upon him, though some may be false and others overstated, by his enemies, yet so many remain which are placed beyond all dispute as are sufficient to render the memory of Alexander execrable in the view of all who have even a moderate share of virtue. A large part of his crimes, however, originated from his excessive partiality for his children; for he had four sons by a concubine, among whom was the notorious Cesare Borgia, infamous for his enormous vices, and likewise one daughter named Lucrezia; and he was intent solely on bringing forward and enriching these, without regarding honesty, reason, or religion.c

[644]

ALEXANDER VI, THE BORGIA

The great object of Alexander through his whole life was to gratify his inclination for pleasure, his ambition, and his love of ease. When at length he had attained to the supreme spiritual dignity, he seemed also to have reached the summit of happiness. Spite of his advanced years, the exultation he felt seemed daily to impart to him a new life. No painful thought was permitted to disturb his repose for a single night. His only care was to seize on all means that might aid him to increase his power, and advance the wealth and dignity of his sons; on no other subject did he ever seriously bestow a thought. This one consideration was at the base of all his political alliances, and of those relations by which the events of the world were at that time so powerfully influenced. How the pope would proceed, in regard to the marriages, endowments, and advance of his children, became a question affecting the politics of all Europe.

The son of Alexander, Cæsar Borgia, followed close on the footsteps of Riario. He began from the same point, and his first undertaking was to drive the widow of Riario from Imola and Forlì. He pressed forward to the completion of his designs with the most daring contempt of consequences; what Riario had only approached, or attempted, Cæsar Borgia carried forward to its utmost results. Let us take a rapid glance at the means by which his purposes were accomplished.

The ecclesiastical states had hitherto been divided by the factions of the Guelfs and Ghibellines, the first represented in Rome by the family of Orsini, the second by the house of Colonna. The popes had usually taken part with one or the other of these factions. Sixtus IV had done so, and his example was followed by Alexander and his son, who at first attached themselves to the Guelf, or Orsini party. This alliance enabled them very soon to gain the mastery of all their enemies. They drove the house of Sforza from Pesaro, that of Malatesta from Rimini, and the family of Manfredi from Faenza. They seized on those powerful, well-fortified cities, and thus commenced the foundation of an extensive lordship. But no sooner had they attained this point, no sooner had they freed themselves from their enemies, than they turned every effort against their friends. And it was in this that the practice of the Borgias differed from that of their predecessors, who had ever remained firmly attached to the party they had chosen; Cæsar, on the contrary, attacked his own confederates, without hesitation or scruple. The duke of Urbino, from whom he had frequently received important aid, was involved, as in a network, by the machinations of Cæsar, and with difficulty saved his life, a persecuted fugitive in his own dominions. Vitelli, Baglioni, and other chiefs of the Orsini faction, resolved to show him that at least they were capable of resistance. But Cæsar Borgia, declaring that “it is permitted to betray those who are the masters of all treasons,” decoyed them into his snares with profoundly calculated cruelty, and mercilessly deprived them of life. Having thus destroyed both parties, he stepped into their place, gathered the inferior nobility, who had been their adherents, around him, and took them into his pay; the territories he had seized on were held in subjection by force of terror and cruelty.

The brightest hopes of Alexander were thus realised—the nobles of the land were annihilated, and his house about to found a great hereditary dominion in Italy. But he had already begun to acquire practical experience of the evil which passions, aroused and unbridled, are capable of producing. With no relative or favourite would Cæsar Borgia endure the[645] participation of his power. His own brother stood in his way; Cæsar caused him to be murdered and thrown into the Tiber. His brother-in-law was assailed and stabbed, by his orders, on the steps of his palace. The wounded man was nursed by his wife and sister, the latter preparing his food with her own hands to secure him from poison; the pope set a guard upon the house to protect his son-in-law from his son. Cæsar laughed these precautions to scorn. “What cannot be done at noonday,” said he, “may be brought about in the evening.” When the prince was on the point of recovery, he burst into his chamber, drove out the wife and sister, called in the common executioner, and caused his unfortunate brother-in-law to be strangled. Towards his father, whose life and station he valued only as means to his own aggrandisement, he displayed not the slightest respect or feeling. He slew Peroto, Alexander’s favourite, while the unhappy man clung to his patron for protection, and was wrapped within the pontifical mantle. The blood of the favourite flowed over the face of the pope.

For a certain time the city of the apostles, and the whole state of the church, were in the hands of Cæsar Borgia. He is described as possessing great personal beauty, and was so strong that in a bull-fight he would strike off the head of the animal at a single blow; of liberal spirit, and not without certain features of greatness, but given up to his passions, and deeply stained with blood. How did Rome tremble at his name! Cæsar required gold, and possessed enemies; every night were the corpses of murdered men found in the streets, yet none dared move; for who but might fear that his own turn would be next? Those whom violence could not reach were taken off by poison. There was but one place on earth where such deeds were possible—that, namely, where unlimited temporal power was united to the highest spiritual authority, where the laws, civil and ecclesiastical, were held in one and the same hand. This place was occupied by Cæsar Borgia. Even depravity may have its perfection. The kindred of the popes have often distinguished themselves in the career of evil, but none attained to the eminence of Cæsar Borgia. He may be called a virtuoso in crime. Was it not in the first and most essential tendencies of Christianity to render such a power impossible? And yet, Christianity itself, and the very position of the supreme head of the church, were made subservient to its existence.

There needed, then, no advent of a Luther, to prove to the world that these things were in direct opposition to the spirit of Christianity. Even at that time men complained that the pope was preparing the way for antichrist, and labouring for the interest of Satan rather than the kingdom of God. We do not follow the history of Alexander in its minute details. He once purposed, as is but too well authenticated,[109] to destroy one of the richest cardinals by poison; but the latter contrived to win over the pope’s chief cook by means of promises, entreaties, and gifts. The confection, prepared for the cardinal, was set before the pontiff himself; and Alexander expired from the effects of that poison which he had destined for another.f

Estimates of Alexander VI

It is the pastime of historians to practise their technic impartially in besmirching the sanctified reputations of the saints of popular belief and in whitewashing the traditional villains. Alexander VI is too historic a[646] monster to escape the efforts of some apologist, and in recent years Dr. Richard Garnettg and Frederick Baron Corvoi have come to his rescue. The former praises his great shrewdness, his learning and vigour, and finds him no worse than his times, which is at best damning with faint praise one who stood for St. Peter on earth. Dr. Garnett after his defence is however compelled to admit the following flaws in the pope’s character:a

“Cardinal Borgia had simply bought up the Sacred College. Although Alexander’s election was without question the most notorious of any for the unscrupulous employment of illegitimate influences, it is difficult to affirm that it was in principle more simoniacal than most of those which had lately preceded it or were soon to follow. Men said that Alexander had bribed the French ministers; probably he had. He had been tortuous, perfidious, temporising under stress of circumstances. Unrestrained by moral scruples, or by any spiritual conception of religion, he was betrayed into gross sensuality of one kind, though in other respects he was temperate and abstemious. In the more respectable guise of family affection it led him to outrage every principle of justice. The general tendency of investigation, which utterly shattering all idle attempts to represent him as the model pope, has been to relieve him of the most odious imputations against his character. There remains the charge of secret poisoning from motives of cupidity, which indeed appear established, or nearly so, only in a single instance, but this may imply others.”

In the same work Henry C. Leah is more severe. “It is no wonder that Rome had become a centre of corruption whence infection was radiated throughout Christendom. In the middle of the fourteenth century Petrarch exhausts his rhetoric in describing the abominations of the papal city of Avignon, where everything was vile; and the return of the curia to Rome transferred to that city the supremacy in wickedness. In 1499 the Venetian ambassador describes it as the sewer of the world, and Machiavelli asserts that through its example all devotion and all religion had perished in Italy. In 1490 it numbered 6000 public women—an enormous proportion for a population not exceeding 100,000. The story is well known, how Cardinal Borgia, who, as vice-chancellor, openly sold pardons for crime, when reproved for this, replied, that God desires not the death of sinners but that they should pay and live. If the diary of Infessuraj is suspect on account of his partisanship, that of Burchard is unimpeachable, and his placid recital of the events passing under his eyes presents to us a society too depraved to take shame at its own wickedness. The public marriage, he says, of the daughters of Innocent VIII and Alexander VI set the fashion for the clergy to have children, and they diligently followed it; for all, from the highest to the lowest, kept concubines, while the monasteries were brothels.”

And John Addington Symonds has been quite as emphatic:

“To describe him as the Genius of Evil, whose sensualities, as unrestrained as Nero’s, were relieved against the background of flames and smoke which Christianity had raised for fleshly sins, is justifiable. An epigram gained currency: ‘Alexander sells the keys, the altars, Christ. Well, he bought them; so he has a right to sell them.’ Having sold the scarlet to the highest bidder, he used to feed his prelate with rich benefices. When he had fattened him sufficiently, he poisoned him, laid hands upon his hoards, and recommenced the game. His traffic in church dignities was carried on upon a grand scale, twelve cardinals’ hats, for example, were put to auction in a single day. This was when he wished to pack the conclave with votes in favour of the cession of Romagna to Cesare Borgia. Carnal sensuality was[647] the besetting vice of this pope throughout his life. His relations to Vanozza Catanei and to Giulia Farnese were open and acknowledged. These two sultanas ruled him during the greater portion of his career, conniving meanwhile at the harem, which, after true oriental fashion, he maintained in the Vatican.”l

JULIUS II

A pope followed who made it his object to assume a position in direct contrast with that of the Borgias; but who pursued the same end, though he took different, and from that very circumstance successful, means for his purpose. Julius II (1503-1513 A.D.) enjoyed the incalculable advantage of finding opportunity for promoting the interests of his family by peaceable means; he obtained for his kindred the inheritance of Urbino. This done, he could devote himself, undisturbed by the importunities of his kindred, to the gratification of that innate love for war and conquest which was indeed the ruling passion of his life. To this he was invited by the circumstances of the times, and the consciousness of his eminent position; but his efforts were all for the church—for the benefit of the papal see. Other popes had laboured to procure principalities for their sons or their nephews; it was the ambition of Julius to extend the dominions of the church. He must, therefore, be regarded as the founder of the papal states.

He found the whole territory in extreme confusion; all who had escaped by flight from the hand of Cæsar had returned—the Orsini, the Colonna, the Vitelli and Baglioni, Varani, Malatesta, and Montefeltri—everywhere throughout the whole land were the different parties in movement; murderous contests took place in the very Borgo of Rome. Pope Julius has been compared with the Neptune of Virgil, when rising from the waves, with peace-inspiring countenance he hushes their storms to repose. By prudence and good management he disembarrassed himself even of Cæsar Borgia, whose castles he seized and of whose dukedom he also gained possession. The lesser barons he kept in order with the more facility from the measures to this effect that had been taken by Cæsar, but he was careful not to give them such cardinals for leaders as might awaken the ancient spirit of insubordination by ambitious enterprise. The more powerful nobles, who refused him obedience, he attacked without further ceremony. His accession to the papal throne sufficed to reduce Baglioni (who had again made himself master of Perugia) within the limits of due subordination. Nor could Bentivoglio offer effectual resistance when required to resign that sumptuous palace which he had erected in Bologna, and whereon he had too hastily inscribed the well-known[648] eulogy of his own good fortune; of this he saw himself deprived in his old age. The two powerful cities of Perugia and Bologna were thus subjected to the immediate authority of the pontifical throne.

But with all this, Julius was yet far from having accomplished the end he had proposed to himself. The coasts of the papal states were in great part occupied by the Venetians; they were by no means disposed to yield possession of them freely, and the pope was greatly their inferior in military power. He could not conceal from himself that his attacking them would be the signal for a commotion throughout Europe. Should he venture to risk this?

Old as Julius now was, worn by the many vicissitudes of good and evil fortune experienced through a long life; by the fatigues of war and exile, and most of all by the consequences of intemperance and licentious excess, he yet knew not what fear or irresolution meant; in the extremity of age, he still retained that grand characteristic of manhood, an indomitable spirit. He felt little respect for the princes of his time, and believed himself capable of mastering them all. He took the field in person, and having stormed Mirandola, he pressed into the city across the frozen ditches and through the breach; the most disastrous reverses could not shake his purpose, but rather seemed to waken new resources within him. He was accordingly successful; not only were his own baronies rescued from the Venetians, but in the fierce contest that ensued, he at length made himself master of Parma, Piacenza, and even Reggio, thus laying the foundation of a power such as no pope had ever possessed before him. From Piacenza to Terracina the whole fair region admitted his authority.

PREVALENCE OF SECULARISM IN THE CHURCH

It was an inevitable consequence that the whole body of the hierarchy should be influenced by the character and tendencies of its chief, that all should lend their best aid to the promotion of his purposes, and be themselves carried forward by the impulse thus given. Not only the supreme dignity of the pontiff, but all other offices of the church, were regarded as mere secular property. The pope nominated cardinals from no better motive than personal favour, the gratification of some potentate, or even, and this was no unfrequent occurrence, for actual payment of money! Could there be any rational expectation that men so appointed would fulfil their spiritual duties? One of the most important offices of the church, the Penitenziaria, was bestowed by Sixtus IV on one of his nephews. This office held a large portion of the power of granting dispensations; its privileges were still further extended by the pope, and in a bull issued for the express purpose of confirming them, he declares all who shall presume to doubt the rectitude of such measures, to be a “stiff-necked people and children of malice.” It followed as a matter of course that the nephew considered his office as a benefice, the proceeds of which he was entitled to increase to the utmost extent possible.

A large amount of worldly power was at this time conferred in most instances, together with the bishoprics; they were held more or less as sinecures according to the degree of influence or court favour possessed by the recipient or his family. The Roman curia thought only of how it might best derive advantage from the vacancies and presentations; Alexander extorted double annates or first-fruits, and levied double, nay triple tithes;[649] there remained few things that had not become matter of purchase. The taxes of the papal chancery rose higher from day to day, and the comptroller, whose duty it was to prevent all abuses in that department, most commonly referred the revision of the imposts to those very men who had fixed their amount. For every indulgence obtained from the datary’s office, a stipulated sum was paid; nearly all the disputes occurring at this period between the several states of Europe and the Roman court arose out of these exactions, which the curia sought by every possible means to increase, while the people of all countries as zealously strove to restrain them.

Principles such as these necessarily acted on all ranks affected by the system based on them, from the highest to the lowest. Many ecclesiastics were found ready to renounce their bishoprics; but they retained the greater part of the revenues, and not unfrequently the presentation to the benefices dependent on them also. Even the laws forbidding the son of a clergyman to procure induction to the living of his father, and enacting that no ecclesiastic should dispose of his office by will, were continually evaded; for as all could obtain permission to appoint whomsoever he might choose as his coadjutor, provided he were liberal of his money, so the benefices of the church became in a manner hereditary. It followed of necessity that the performance of ecclesiastical duties was grievously neglected. In this rapid sketch, we confine ourselves to remarks made by conscientious prelates of the Roman court itself.

In all places incompetent persons were intrusted with the performance of clerical duties; they were appointed without scrutiny or selection. The incumbents of benefices were principally interested in finding substitutes at the lowest possible cost, thus the mendicant friars were frequently chosen as particularly suitable in this respect. These men occupied the bishoprics under the title (previously unheard of in that sense) of suffragans; the cures they held in the capacity of vicars. Already were the mendicant orders in possession of extraordinary privileges, and these had been yet further extended by Sixtus IV, who was himself a Franciscan. They had the right of confessing penitents, administering the Lord’s Supper, and bestowing extreme unction, as also that of burying within the precincts, and even in the habit of the order. All these privileges conferred importance as well as profit, and the mendicant friars enjoyed them in their utmost plenitude; the pope even threatened the disobedient secular clergy, or others, who should molest the orders, more particularly as regarded bequests, with the loss of their respective offices.

The administration of parishes as well as that of bishoprics being now in the hands of the mendicant orders, it is manifest that they must have possessed enormous influence. The higher offices and more important dignities were monopolised, together with their revenues, by the great families and their dependants, shared only with the favourites of courts and of the curia; the actual discharge of the various duties was confided to the mendicant friars who were upheld by the popes. They took active part also in the sale of indulgences, to which so unusual an extension was given at that time, Alexander VI being the first to declare officially that they were capable of releasing souls from purgatory. But the orders also had fallen into the extreme of worldliness. What intrigues were set on foot among them for securing the higher appointments! what eagerness was displayed at elections to be rid of a rival, or of a voter believed unfavourable! The latter were sent out of the way as preachers or as inspectors of remote parishes; against the former, they did not scruple to employ the sword, or the dagger,[650] and many were destroyed by poison. Meanwhile the comforts men seek from religion became mere matter of sale; the mendicant friars, employed at miserably low wages, caught eagerly at all contingent means of making profit.

While the populace had sunk into almost heathen superstition, and expected their salvation from mere ceremonial observances, but half understood, the higher classes were manifesting opinions of a tendency altogether anti-religious. How profoundly astonished must Luther have been, on visiting Italy in his youth! At the very moment when the sacrifice of the mass was completed, did the priests utter blasphemous words in denial of its reality! It was even considered characteristic of good society, in Rome, to call the principles of Christianity in question. “One passes,” says P. Ant. Bandino,m “no longer for a man of cultivation, unless one put forth heterodox opinions regarding the Christian faith.” At court, the ordinances of the Catholic church, and of passages from Holy Scripture, were made subjects of jest—the mysteries of the faith had become matter of derision.

We thus see how all is enchained and connected—how one event calls forth another. The pretensions of temporal princes to ecclesiastical power awaken a secular ambition in the popes, the corruption and decline of religious institutions elicit the development of a new intellectual tendency, till at length the very foundations of the faith become shaken in the public opinion.f

FOOTNOTES

---

[651]

BRIEF REFERENCE-LIST OF AUTHORITIES BY CHAPTERS

[The letter a is reserved for Editorial Matter.]

Chapter I. Origin and Rise of the Papacy

b H. H. Milman, History of Latin Christianity.

c Leopold von Ranke, History of the Popes.

d Victor Duruy, Histoire du Moyen Age.

e O. J. Reichel, The See of Rome in the Middle Ages.

f J. Bass Mullinger, article on “Popedom,” in the Encyclopædia Britannica.

g Henry Stebbing, History of the Christian Church.

h John Wm. Draper, History of the Intellectual Development of Europe.

i Gregory of Tours, Annales Francorum.

j Andreas Thiel, Epistolæ Romanorum Pontificorum.

k Gregory the Great, Letters and Dialogues.

l Edward Gibbon, Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.

Chapter II. “The Night of the Papacy”—Charlemagne to Otto the Great

b O. J. Reichel, op. cit.

c H. Stebbing, op. cit.

d Thomas Greenwood, Cathedra Petri.

e J. J. I. Döllinger, Die Papst Fabel des Mittelalters.

f Article on Pope “Joan,” in the Encyclopædia Britannica.

g H. H. Milman, op. cit.

h Charles Kingsley, The Roman and the Teuton.

i B. Platina, Vitæ Pontificum Romanorum.

j C. Fleury, Histoire Ecclésiastique.

k C. Baronius, Annales Ecclesiastici.

l Einhard, Vita Caroli Magni.

m Chronicles of Moissiac.

n Marianus Scotus, Universal Chronicle from the Creation to the Year 1083.

o Sigebert of Gemblours, Chronique Universelle.

p Otto von Freysing, Chronik.

q Stephen de Bourbon, Chronicle.

r Martinus Polonus, Chronicon de Summis Pontificibus.

s Liutprand, Antapodosis.

Chapter III. The High Noon of the Papacy

b O. J. Reichel, op. cit.

c H. Stebbing, op. cit.

d J. B. Mullinger, op. cit.

e H. H. Milman, op. cit.

f V. Duruy, op. cit.

g James Bryce, The Holy Roman Empire.

h Roger of Hoveden, Historia post Bedam.

i K. F. Eichhorn, Deutsche Staats und Rechtsgeschichte.

j Ciacconius (Chacon), Vitæ Pontificanum.

k J. C. L. Gieseler, Compendium of Ecclesiastical History (translated by J. W. Hull).

l Henry Hallam, The State of Europe during the Middle Ages.

m Innocent III, Epistolarum liber I et ref.

n J. L. von Mosheim, Institutes of Ecclesiastical History (translated from the Latin by James Murdock).

o Anselmo di Lucca, Defensio pro Gregorio VII.

Chapter IV. From Exile to Supremacy

b H. H. Milman, op. cit.

c J. L. von Mosheim, op. cit.

d J. C. L. Gieseler, op. cit.

e Muratori, Annali d’Italia (including Vespasiano’s “Life of Nicholas V”).

f L. von Ranke, op. cit.

g Richard Garnett, on “Rome and the Temporal Power,” in Cambridge Modern History.

h Henry C. Lea, on “The Eve of the Reformation,” in Cambridge Modern History.

i F. B. Corvo, Chronicles of the House of Borgia.

j S. Infessiora, “Diarium” in Eccard’s Corpus Historicum Medii Ævi.

k J. Burcardus, Didrium (edited by L. Thuasne).

l J. Addington Symonds, The Age of the Despots.

m P. A. Bambino, in Carraciolo’s Life of Paul IV.

---

Books

World

Index

Hellenica World - Scientific Library